Warnings/Disclaimers: FMA does not belong to me, no profit was made in the creation of this story.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang
Rating: PG mostly
Summary: "This isn't the best place to do this," Havoc said quietly. "If someone catches me in here, they won't believe any of my excuses."
"This isn't the best place to do this," Havoc said quietly. "If someone catches me in here, they won't believe any of my excuses."
"You never come to library for a book?" Roy asked, more interested in kissing Havoc than inventing a bullshit excuse, especially when he doubted anyone would discover them where they were. The Lieutenant gave snort at his suggestion though. Roy reached into his pocket, withdrew his silver pocket watch, and slipped it into Havoc's pocket. "I sent you to pick up a book for me."
When Havoc snorted again, Roy stopped kissing him and focused a slightly peeved look on his lover. "You're here yourself, why send me too?"
"Well, then use the first excuse," Roy replied. i It isn't too far fetched to believe you would read, Jean/i he added to himself and suddenly scowled. Havoc returned it. Roy didn't want to explore why Havoc seemed to find an excuse to dumb himself down, so he did the best thing to evade a serious discussion. He made a joke. "You do know how to read, Lieutenant?"
"Ouch," Havoc said. He pressed a hand against Roy's shoulder, not hard enough to physically dislodge the Colonel but enough to let Roy know he meant it. Havoc had not wanted banter, Roy supposed, despite starting it. With disappointment, Roy stepped back and looked over Havoc, marveling at his own ability to aggravate that sensitivity that he usually hid so well. He hated when all it took was a stupid, careless jab.
"You know that I can read," Havoc grumbled. So the Lieutenant was becoming i defensive. /i "You know I do my job. I'm not very quick on the uptake sometimes, sure, but I—"
"You aren't slow," Roy interrupted. He still hadn't worked out i what /i Havoc was thinking but he was beginning to understand. "If that's what you mean." And it was, Roy knew, from past claims of being simple. "Why would you think that about yourself, Jean?"
Havoc's eye twitched. "My lunch is almost over," he said as he produced his pack of cigarettes. "I don't want to smoke in the office with Lieutenant Hawkeye breathing down my neck about the smell—"
"You see Jean, that is a very intelligent conclusion," Roy interrupted yet again. "It's an exceptional display of logic. You have figured out a thorough way to keep in Lieutenant Hawkeye's good graces and a way to weasel out of our conversation."
Havoc chuckled humorlessly and began to play with his lighter. Flick, click. Flick, click. The nervous tick didn't last long, stilling again under Roy's palm. Roy understood women, clearly evidenced by his rather impressive previous dating record. He knew that most men, Havoc included, would kill for the insight he had of the fairer sex. However, women and relationships didn't equate. This i relationship /i with Havoc escaped him and Roy found it rather unsettling that, in fact, he did not understand i men. /i
Well, gay men, particularly ones—well, the one—that he was involved with. Havoc didn't come off as complex, no, not from the beginning, precisely why Roy had not bargained for something quite so long term. Havoc even called himself simple, often the only thing he i did /i call himself. Yet he possessed so many hidden talents and adorable surprises—
Yes, adorable, Mustang.
—that Roy knew better than to believe Havoc was stupid.
"Jean," Roy began. "I'm certain that if anyone 'caught' you sneaking about the library, this person would not be surprised if you were looking for a book, for i yourself. /i "
This time, Havoc didn't snort or chuckle or even flick around the cover of his lighter. He didn't do anything to tell Roy what he had mulling around in his skull. It stopped Roy from continuing, though he could have kept praising Havoc's intelligence. For all Roy knew, Havoc could have decided not to believe any of what Roy told him and Roy could not risk making Havoc feel more awkward with more flattery. But really, this secretive, uncooperative, sly side of Havoc grated on his nerves, even if it was a product of the intelligence lurking under the film of smoke that Havoc routinely puffed into the air. And all Roy wanted was a bit of kissing and groping before plowing through more paperwork.
He sighed. "Well, if you're ready to return to the bullpen, after your cigarette, of course, Jean—"
Suddenly, Havoc pressed him against a bookshelf and plundered his mouth. Roy wondered at the severity of the action but still returned the kiss. It definitely meant "Shut up, Roy" if anything ever did. He didn't say anything else for that matter, mostly because he enjoyed having Havoc kiss him like that. Which made him all the more disappointed when Havoc stopped and stared at him with an amused grin. Roy definitely hated when Havoc played with him. Definitely.
"Jean…" Havoc reached up, his fingers ghosting over Roy's cheek to his ear and past his head. Roy turned to see what he was doing.
"So how's this one?" Havoc asked. His fingers ran down the spine of the book and curled over it, pulling it from the shelf to dangle in front of Roy's face.
The Colonel chuckled. "I'm not sure, I've never read it."