Fic - "Glance"
Title: Glance
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Roy Mustang, Shou Tucker. Fullmetal Alchemist [first anime].
Word Count: 864
Rating: PG
Summary: The morning after the night before.
Warnings: Slash, implications of saucy business.
Original Notes: A little piece set in my pet universe, in which Roy and Shou have a brief, torrid affair that burns hard and fast, lasting only a few months and ending with a mutual "we must never speak of this again!" Their interaction in canon always seemed to imply that, one way or another, they have a history together. This prompt was just asking for it.
Additional Notes: When the prompt "mismatched pairs" came up at fma_fic_contest, I decided to use the opportunity to post an installment from my series Whiskey and Wine, which chronicles my ongoing love for the Roy/Shou pairing. It's been a while since I posted one of these and it felt nice to share it with people. This pairing will always have a special place in my heart!
Roy wakes abruptly from a deep, dreamless sleep when the mattress shifts underneath him. He half rolls over, groggily searching for the source of the disturbance, and hears the soft hiss of someone grimacing.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
As his eyes adjust to the morning sunlight, he realizes and remembers simultaneously that it’s Tucker, who’s just climbed back into bed and now sits propped up against the headboard. He’s wearing his trousers but seems to have made no other effort to get dressed. He smiles at Roy.
“You look gorgeous.”
Mustang makes a sleepy sound of acknowledgment, rolling all the way over and settling an arm over Shou’s legs, his head resting in his lap.
“Good morning,” he yawns.
After a moment of hesitation, Tucker allows his hand to drift down and rest between Mustang’s shoulder blades. When no effort is made to shrug it off, he begins to stroke him the way one would stroke a cat, starting at the base of his neck and gliding down to the middle of his back. Repeat, repeat, repeat. He places his other hand over Mustang’s forearm and the circuit is complete. The act is quite soothing and Shou’s hands are soft and gentle. Roy closes his eyes and feels himself slipping back towards sleep.
“What’re you doing up?” He mumbles. “‘S’early.”
“I was going to make us some coffee,” Shou chuckles. “But I can’t find my glasses.”
Roy turns onto his back - Tucker’s hand stays on him and ends up on his chest - and gives him a skeptical look. He raises two fingers.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“I’m not blind,” Shou laughs. “I just didn’t think I should go pawing through your pantry with my nose against the jars. I am your guest, after all.”
“Near-sighted?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I don’t mind if you go pawing. You’re not just a guest.”
With a hum of fondness, Tucker pets Mustang’s hair, and Mustang arches into it with something almost like a purr. It’s been some time since he didn’t have to wake up alone. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed this part of the arrangement, these drowsy moments of touching and being touched, when the realities of the day ahead haven’t yet overshadowed the memories of the night before.
“Now you’ve got me thinking about coffee,” he scolds reluctantly. “Come on.”
He finds his boxers and pulls them on, then decides that getting dressed any further is too much of an effort. He gives the floor of the bedroom a preliminary scan.
“I know they’re on the floor somewhere,” he mutters.
“That’s right,” Shou agrees.
They set off side by side, eyes trained downwards. Roy probes at various obstacles with his feet, overturning a discarded newspaper with his toes in the ridiculous hope that the glasses somehow ended up underneath it. Tucker rambles apologetically about how he’s always misplacing them and you’d think he’d have a system for locating them by now.
“I have a friend who wears glasses,” Mustang says. “He claims that he’s never misplaced them once.”
“Then he deserves some kind of medal,” Shou snorts. “Either that or he’s lying.”
“It seems like it’d be pretty difficult to lose track of something you need to see.”
“You’d be surprised,” Tucker insists, then adds almost bashfully, “Besides, I was... distracted.”
From halfway across the apartment, they make eye contact and share matching grins.
Finally, when Roy picks up the shirt that he tossed aside last night, he’s rewarded with a flash of light catching on silver. He reaches down and picks up the spectacles by one of the arms, dangling them in Tucker’s direction.
“Looking for these?”
Shou laughs and accepts the glasses. Roy is almost disappointed when he puts them back on. He hadn’t realized how different he looks without them- his face looked so open, completely different from the face he presents to everyone else. Still, there’s something sexy about seeing him in glasses, trousers, and nothing else. He’s in good shape but usually hides his form under oversized shirts, as if embarrassed by the possibility of looking attractive. Now he has nothing to hide under, and as he becomes aware of Roy’s scrutiny, he scratches the side of his neck and chuckles nervously.
“Ah... were we going to make coffee?”
“Sure,” Roy smiles, enjoying his discomfort.
As they head into the kitchen, Tucker stoops to grab his shirt. Mustang sees him and calls breezily, “I wish you wouldn’t,” not bothering to look back, knowing that when Shou comes timidly into the kitchen behind him that he did as he was told.
“Come here,” Roy instructs as he fills the percolator.
When Tucker approaches him, Mustang reaches behind and guides his arms around his waist, settling them there and then getting back to his task. Shou is initially tense and uncertain, but he gradually relaxes and allows his chin to rest lazily on Mustang’s shoulder. Roy leans back against him as they wait for the coffee to brew.
“Do you want any breakfast?” Roy asks, running his thumbs over the back of Shou’s hands.
“That’s all right,” Tucker says softly. “This is enough.”
_______end.
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Roy Mustang, Shou Tucker. Fullmetal Alchemist [first anime].
Word Count: 864
Rating: PG
Summary: The morning after the night before.
Warnings: Slash, implications of saucy business.
Original Notes: A little piece set in my pet universe, in which Roy and Shou have a brief, torrid affair that burns hard and fast, lasting only a few months and ending with a mutual "we must never speak of this again!" Their interaction in canon always seemed to imply that, one way or another, they have a history together. This prompt was just asking for it.
Additional Notes: When the prompt "mismatched pairs" came up at fma_fic_contest, I decided to use the opportunity to post an installment from my series Whiskey and Wine, which chronicles my ongoing love for the Roy/Shou pairing. It's been a while since I posted one of these and it felt nice to share it with people. This pairing will always have a special place in my heart!
Roy wakes abruptly from a deep, dreamless sleep when the mattress shifts underneath him. He half rolls over, groggily searching for the source of the disturbance, and hears the soft hiss of someone grimacing.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
As his eyes adjust to the morning sunlight, he realizes and remembers simultaneously that it’s Tucker, who’s just climbed back into bed and now sits propped up against the headboard. He’s wearing his trousers but seems to have made no other effort to get dressed. He smiles at Roy.
“You look gorgeous.”
Mustang makes a sleepy sound of acknowledgment, rolling all the way over and settling an arm over Shou’s legs, his head resting in his lap.
“Good morning,” he yawns.
After a moment of hesitation, Tucker allows his hand to drift down and rest between Mustang’s shoulder blades. When no effort is made to shrug it off, he begins to stroke him the way one would stroke a cat, starting at the base of his neck and gliding down to the middle of his back. Repeat, repeat, repeat. He places his other hand over Mustang’s forearm and the circuit is complete. The act is quite soothing and Shou’s hands are soft and gentle. Roy closes his eyes and feels himself slipping back towards sleep.
“What’re you doing up?” He mumbles. “‘S’early.”
“I was going to make us some coffee,” Shou chuckles. “But I can’t find my glasses.”
Roy turns onto his back - Tucker’s hand stays on him and ends up on his chest - and gives him a skeptical look. He raises two fingers.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“I’m not blind,” Shou laughs. “I just didn’t think I should go pawing through your pantry with my nose against the jars. I am your guest, after all.”
“Near-sighted?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I don’t mind if you go pawing. You’re not just a guest.”
With a hum of fondness, Tucker pets Mustang’s hair, and Mustang arches into it with something almost like a purr. It’s been some time since he didn’t have to wake up alone. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed this part of the arrangement, these drowsy moments of touching and being touched, when the realities of the day ahead haven’t yet overshadowed the memories of the night before.
“Now you’ve got me thinking about coffee,” he scolds reluctantly. “Come on.”
He finds his boxers and pulls them on, then decides that getting dressed any further is too much of an effort. He gives the floor of the bedroom a preliminary scan.
“I know they’re on the floor somewhere,” he mutters.
“That’s right,” Shou agrees.
They set off side by side, eyes trained downwards. Roy probes at various obstacles with his feet, overturning a discarded newspaper with his toes in the ridiculous hope that the glasses somehow ended up underneath it. Tucker rambles apologetically about how he’s always misplacing them and you’d think he’d have a system for locating them by now.
“I have a friend who wears glasses,” Mustang says. “He claims that he’s never misplaced them once.”
“Then he deserves some kind of medal,” Shou snorts. “Either that or he’s lying.”
“It seems like it’d be pretty difficult to lose track of something you need to see.”
“You’d be surprised,” Tucker insists, then adds almost bashfully, “Besides, I was... distracted.”
From halfway across the apartment, they make eye contact and share matching grins.
Finally, when Roy picks up the shirt that he tossed aside last night, he’s rewarded with a flash of light catching on silver. He reaches down and picks up the spectacles by one of the arms, dangling them in Tucker’s direction.
“Looking for these?”
Shou laughs and accepts the glasses. Roy is almost disappointed when he puts them back on. He hadn’t realized how different he looks without them- his face looked so open, completely different from the face he presents to everyone else. Still, there’s something sexy about seeing him in glasses, trousers, and nothing else. He’s in good shape but usually hides his form under oversized shirts, as if embarrassed by the possibility of looking attractive. Now he has nothing to hide under, and as he becomes aware of Roy’s scrutiny, he scratches the side of his neck and chuckles nervously.
“Ah... were we going to make coffee?”
“Sure,” Roy smiles, enjoying his discomfort.
As they head into the kitchen, Tucker stoops to grab his shirt. Mustang sees him and calls breezily, “I wish you wouldn’t,” not bothering to look back, knowing that when Shou comes timidly into the kitchen behind him that he did as he was told.
“Come here,” Roy instructs as he fills the percolator.
When Tucker approaches him, Mustang reaches behind and guides his arms around his waist, settling them there and then getting back to his task. Shou is initially tense and uncertain, but he gradually relaxes and allows his chin to rest lazily on Mustang’s shoulder. Roy leans back against him as they wait for the coffee to brew.
“Do you want any breakfast?” Roy asks, running his thumbs over the back of Shou’s hands.
“That’s all right,” Tucker says softly. “This is enough.”
_______end.