Disclaimer: —insert funny, witty, sentence that tells people I don't own FMA—
Summary: Hmm, maybe he was going insane. That would explain it. Yes, that was it, he was insane. He should go home and look up a good institution. Would it be under M for Mad, or I for Insane? "D, for denial." Mustang said, that damnable smirk on his face.
Dedicated to seaweedotter. Ooh, Look, I finished it. XD
Warning: Contains GuyxGuy theme so if you don't like that then I wouldn't suggest reading it. There's nothing BAD but I'm warning you anyway.
Not Now, Not Ever
It had started out innocently enough.
Jean had always had a habit of eating earlier than the rest of the group. Perhaps all the nicotine made him hungry. Perhaps he just liked to eat lunch sooner than the rest of them. Either way, it happened, almost every day. He would beat them to the mess hall, and then beat them out again. He'd be back in the office the same time they'd be leaving for lunch. And while Mustang was taking his walk – for reasons unknown to Jean – and Hawkeye was joining the men for lunch, Jean would have to office to himself to do whatever he wanted with.
He liked to set up practical jokes and surprise Breda.
The only problem was; Breda was catching on. Perhaps he should go after Fury? He was always an easy target. No! He thought in strong resolution. I mustn't back down! I must prank Breda at all costs – apart from costs I won't like. He was chortling to himself, before realizing he was chortling and started sniggering instead, when Hughes entered the office.
Jean didn't hear him.
Maybe that's why Hughes was so good at his job and Jean was always getting snuck up on.
Hughes saw an opportunity, and he took it. He creeped as quietly as he could until he was right behind Jean and whispered softly, quickly in his ear. "What are you doing?" Jean screamed. And not a manly scream either. It was quite a girly scream. Hughes smirked. Ah, life was good. "The one time I need a camera and I don't have one." Jean whirled around, trapped in between Hughes and the desk and by accident – or was it – almost locked lips with the other man.
"Oh, sorry sir." He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and damn was that embarrassing. "Well," he said, clearing his throat slightly, both of his hands leaning on Breda's desk behind him. "That's a little awkward."
"Only if you want it to be." Hughes said. And dammit! Did he just wink?
"Uh, sir?" Havoc questioned tentatively. Hughes stepped back, a twinkle in his eye that caused Jean's suspicions to rise, and said with a strange grin on his face:
"Nothing, Lieutenant, nothing at all." He looked around disinterestedly, as though failing to notice Jean was still bright red. "So, where's Roy?" He asked.
"Th—they're out at lunch at the moment, sir." Then he kicked himself for stuttering. You already screamed like a little pansy, dammit, why are you stuttering and blushing! Argh! He scolded himself inside his head. And why the hell is it important?! It's Hughes for god's sake. You're not trying to impress him…and you're not listening to what he's saying…great.
"…when he gets back that he needs to get off his lazy ass and come visit me in the investigations department. Got it?" He asked, and something in the way he grinned at Jean, his glasses flashing, told Jean that he knew very well he hadn't got it.
"Uh, sure." Jean replied anyway. He'd just tell Mustang to visit Hughes. That's what Hughes wanted, right?
"…you do know what you just agreed to, right?" Hughes asked, with a questioning face.
Dammit! What did I just agree to! Jean thought desperately. "Uh…yes?" He asked, almost flinching. Hughes sighed and laughed.
"Oh when you do that you look just like Elicia. It's so cute!" He walked towards the door. "I'm messing with you Havoc, just tell Roy to come see me."
"Uh…yes, sir." He replied weakly.
Wait…did Hughes just call him cute?
Jean had decided not to tell anyone about his and Hughes near incident, and it seemed Hughes hadn't mentioned it to anyone either. Then again, Mustang had been looking at him with an amused smile for no particular reason lately. Maybe he'd just found out about Jeans' last love escapade. She'd dumped him. Like the rest. Maybe dumping people was fun, Jean thought; he couldn't remember the last time he'd had the chance. Couldn't remember the last time he'd had a relationship that had gone long enough for him to get sick of his flavour of the week.
Hmm, he should work on that.
Apparently, Lauren didn't think that he was her type and had seemed somewhat sure that she wasn't his type. "I don't think you like me." She had said. And there had been something worth suspicion in her eyes. She thought that maybe they could be friends, and he supposed he was alright with that. That was until he had seen her on Mustang's arm all of five minutes after they'd broken up. Stupid, smug, handsome bastard, stealing all of his girls.
So, because he had been dumped, he'd ritualistically arrived at his place underneath the tree at East City Headquarters. Smoke from his cigarette rose up into his face and he deeply breathed in the smell. "Dumped again, aye Lieutenant?" Jean looked up and was greeted with Hughes' smiling face. "Maybe you're just going for the wrong sort." And there was that look in his eyes, the same one that Lauren had had.
"Wrong sort?" Jean asked incredulously. "I'll go for any woman that'll approach me!" He said and Hughes merely smiled that mysterious smile.
"Maybe that's the problem." He said, and as quickly as he had come, he was leaving again. "Think about what I said, Havoc." He waved, heading back towards HQ. Jean lit another cigarette angrily. What other sort apart from women was there? The smoke dropped from his mouth, and he hastily brushed it off his uniform.
Jean had decided, after the last two strange meetings with the man, that he'd avoid him from now on. But what with the Colonel being Hughes' best friend, it was a rather difficult task to accomplish. He'd begun to think that Hughes was going out of his way to make any excuse to visit the Colonel, as well as going out of his way to harass Jean whenever the chance presented itself.
Once again, Jean was enjoying the free time he had while the others had lunch when Hughes – knowing full well no one else was ever here at this time – entered the office. This time, Jean was prepared. "Mustang's not here." He said promptly, ignoring the higher-ranking officer's presence and continuing to set up his latest devious prank.
"Oh," Hughes said. And Jean knew that he knew that Mustang wasn't here. Then why had he come? Hughes sat down at the desk that Jean was seated next to. "Well, while you're here…" and in a fashion that Jean recognized all too easily, Hughes' hand reached into his pocket and whipped out a photograph. "Look at this photo I took. Isn't Gracia just the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?" he said, and he was looking at Havoc in an almost childish fashion, his hands were on his chin as he leaned his elbows on the desk. Hughes had taken to coming as close to Havoc as possible lately, and Havoc found himself in increasingly awkward situations. This time was no different.
Hughes was waiting patiently for an answer. He chocked. On what, he didn't know; he didn't even have a drink. Can you choke on spit? He wondered idly, because he'd been doing it a lot lately. "Uh…Gracia…well…er…I can't say for sure, can I?" He managed to sputter out awkwardly, and damn his blood for liking his face! "She's…um…attractive, I suppose."
Hughes demeanor changed rapidly. "Are you making a move on my wife?" He asked, in a deadly serious voice and Havoc could've died, right there.
"No! Not at all sir! Never!" He sighed in relief when that seemed to throw Hughes off, but for a second there he thought he'd heard Hughes mutter 'shame' under his breath.
This guy needed serious psychiatric help.
Maybe Hughes had brushed it off that time, but Jean was still rather suspicious. He didn't know if it was just a figment of his imagination or something else, but he was hoping like he'd never hoped before that it was the first one.
…or was he?
"So, Havoc," Mustangs tone didn't hint of the sentence to come, it was a casual conversation starter. "How are you and Hughes doing?"
Jean chocked on his drink. "Ex – excuse me sir?" He asked as Mustang thumped him on the back sympathetically.
"Nothing, Lieutenant, nothing at all." Now those words sounded awfully familiar. Hmm, maybe he was going insane. That would explain it. Yes, that was it, he was insane. He should go home and look up a good institution. Would it be under M for Mad, or I for Insane? "D, for denial." Mustang said and Havoc didn't even bother asking him to repeat it.
"Oh god, I said that out loud didn't I?" He asked, groaning into his hands as the blood rushed to his face once again.
"Yeah," Mustang replied, and there was something evil in his eye that Jean didn't like.
"Do you like guys, Havoc?"
Oh god. What. The. F—
"I mean, as in, more than friends, if you didn't quite understand."
"Well...I understood – that is…wait, what?" Oh god, he was stuttering and blushing. That was manly. Hughes placed a hand on top of Havoc's who, despite himself, didn't move the said hand. He was suddenly grateful that the two of them were alone in the office. Ha! And Breda said his early lunches were stupid! "Uh…sir? Aren't you, ahem, married?" He asked, clearing his throat which was all of a sudden strangely dry.
"Well, Gracia and I are looking to spice up our relationship, y'know, bring something new to the bedroom." Jean didn't think his face could get any redder, and if he hadn't been slightly scared and greatly confused he probably would've glared at Hughes amused face. "What do you say, Jean?" He asked. "Are you up for it?"
And all of a sudden Havoc grew suspicious. "How much did Breda have to pay you to do this? Where is he? I'm going to murder the bastard."
"Breda didn't pay me anything." Hughes replied, the amusement leaking through into his voice.
"It was Mustang then, wasn't it? I don't care how much he burns me I'm going to beat up the bastard anyway. Where's Ed when you need to plot evilly against Mustang?" Hughes sighed.
"Well, if that's how you feel…" he said, standing up and removing his hand, which Havoc had still not moved. Hmm, the absence of the warm flesh on his was surprisingly sudden and missed. "It's a shame." He muttered, half to himself. "You always were an attractive one, that and you have horrible luck with ladies. I thought that might help sway you, but to no avail, hmm?" His eyes stared knowingly down at him.
Jean didn't appreciate the 'unlucky in love' comment. Yet he couldn't help but blush again at the blatant compliment.
He was certain in his decision of refusal. Wasn't he..? Well, if he was asking he couldn't be too certain now could he. But by the time he realised this, Hughes was gone and Fury and Falman had returned from lunch. "Are you all right, sir?" Fury asked, as always in complete innocence. "You're all red." Saying that isn't helping Havoc said in his head sarcastically before realizing…
"Yes! I mean, no." He coughed. And only Fury would've believed that was a real cough. Even Falman raised a skeptical eyebrow in a fashion unlike him. "I think I might take the rest of the day off. Can you report it down for me?" And before he could receive and answer Havoc had grabbed his smokes and left the room in a rush that left the two officers wondering.
Oh god, did he need that cigarette.
He twisted and turned in his bed that night. Restless, for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. By the time he managed to fall asleep at some ridiculous hour in the morning, he had smoked a good 3 quarters of his cigarettes and moved around so much the sheet had half come off his bed. His dreams, however, were much better. The hazy images that he always associated with dreams – yet strangely enough, only after he had woken – drifted through his head.
There was someone he knew. Strong eyes, beautiful face, intelligent eyes that sparkled with a knowledge Jean had yet to acquire. There was a soft, velvety touch on his hand that was familiar, but he didn't know where from. There was a voice, soft yet rough at the same time; in a way that Jean wasn't sure was possible. And there was a kiss. Gentle, and filled with a sense of longing, a sense of want, a sense of passion.
He woke up, suddenly; and found himself twisted in the crumpled bedsheets, breathing heavily. The eyes from his dream haunted him, but not in a bad way. He welcomed the voice that whispered softly in his ear.
He looked down, and groaned.
Dammit! He was going to murder Hughes! Did he not realise how very awkward this was?
"…bloody confusing…" he muttered under his breath. "I'm having a fucking cold shower. Just to spite the bastard." And he dragged himself out of the bed, unsure as to why he wanted to go back to sleep and dream.
When Hughes made the offer again, and once again, Jean declined – and was, for some reason he didn't know, all of a sudden unsure in his decision – Hughes looked at him with a strange knowing look, as though he didn't think it would be long before Jean would give in. "Well, Elicia's at one of her little friends party, so if you change your mind; Gracia and I are going to be home all night."
Jean wasn't going to show up. Oh no. He was going to find a girl, a girl, and go on a date, because he was in a spiteful mood. All he needed now was a girl. But that afternoon, as he chatted up the young woman who sat watching the phones, he found that he was uninterested and wasn't sure he could take an entire evening of this. It wasn't that the girl was boring; at least he didn't think it was; he thought that Hughes was messing with his mind – and he was doing it on purpose. He could've sworn he'd just heard the blasted man's voice. Oh wait, maybe he had.
"— that damn Major Hughes who's down here every spare minute he can manage either talking to his wife and daughter or about them to anyone who'll pick up the phone!" She was complaining, and he genuinely grinned in humor. She smiled back at him. "I suppose I'm not telling you anything you don't know, am I Lieutenant?"
"Afraid not, miss. I know Hughes all too well." He said and she smiled at him.
"Well, actually. I've heard him talking about you lately as well, Lieutenant Havoc." She said, and there was something in the tone of her voice that was unpleasantly familiar. All of a sudden she reminded him of his ex – the one that didn't quite think that he liked her. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his fingers itching for a smoke.
"What has he been saying, if you don't mind."
She smiled. "Not at all, Lieutenant. But I didn't really hear specifics. It was late at night, I was half asleep and my favourite song was on the chatter-box." She waved an arm towards the radio behind her, which was, even as they spoke softly, making noise. "There's not much I can tell you about what he was saying. But…" she said, "sounded like he was planning some night out for you, his wife, and his-self." She said, with a questioning look in her eye.
"We were going to go on a double date," he lied smoothly, realizing after he'd said it that he was supposed to be chatting this girl up, not talking about dating someone else. "But it's difficult when there's two of them and one of me." He said, and thought that he'd covered his mistake well. She smiled shyly and he noticed her hands fidgeting.
"Well, Lieutenant Havoc," she said, somewhat nervously, "tell me how that goes, will you?" She asked, and he flashed her a toothy grin. See, he could be just as smooth and suave as Mustang.
"Sure thing, miss." He said, and saluted somewhat lazily, turning down the hallway. But he had no interest in taking her on a date; double, triple or any other kind, and for once, he didn't find that too strange.
Maybe that's why he felt less strange and awkward than he thought he should when he showed up on the Hughes' doorstep. "Why the hell am I doing this?" He muttered to himself under his breath, trying to pluck up the courage to just knock on the damn door. He could faintly hear music and the lounge room light was on. Ah well, looks like they're busy. I'll come back another time. And he let the door knocker drop from his hand. He hadn't even thought that the knock it had made was loud enough to be heard over the music, but he hadn't even had a chance to descend one step before a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him into the house.
He could smell alcohol. Oh good, he was going to need some. Someone's breath tickled his neck and he was almost afraid to turn around. His face was bright red as a laughing Gracia joined him and – he supposed Hughes – at the door. "Ah, Lieutenant." Hughes breathed in his ear. "You made it." He laughed and let the Lieutenant go.
Havoc coughed slightly. "Ah well, y'see…the thing is…Oh, hello Mrs. Hughes." He said awkwardly.
"Oh you don't need to use any formalities here, Jean." She said, and there was something that didn't fit Gracia's innocent air in her voice. The faint blush on her cheeks told her that they'd both been drinking. That and the wine glasses they clutched. "Just call me Gracia."
"And Maes!" The said man called out, pouring Jean a drink.
"And Maes." She confirmed, looping an arm around Jeans and joining Maes on the lounge, making Jean sit in between them.
Maes grinned at him, and handed him the wine glass, which Jean took readily. He gulped half the glass down. "Now, now, Jean." Maes said, with that same grin. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. We promise to make this night interesting. You can drink as much as you want; you're not going to forget." And as he moved forward quickly and pressed his lips to Jeans – almost hesitantly, giving Jean a chance to pull away, a chance Jean decided that he didn't want to take – Jean began to think that maybe he wasn't going to forget this night.
Not now, not ever.
I can't write anything smut. XD So forgive me for the lack of an ending that has closure.