Fic - "Sympathy for the Devil"
Title: Sympathy for the Devil
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Roy Mustang, Shou Tucker. Fullmetal Alchemist [first anime series].
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG
Summary: Some men don't handle pressure well.
Warnings: Bodily fluids.
Notes: Takes place immediately after Tucker has presented the chimera that would earn him the rank of State Alchemist. Originally written for the prompt 'Lend' at fma_fic_contest , this became the first in a series called Whiskey and Wine, a collection of fics about the Roy/Shou pairing. It's become a pet project of mine, and this is the fic that started it all! Enjoy.
Roy hasn’t gone far when he hears a faint retching and the unmistakable splatter of vomit hitting the pavement.
Against his better judgment, he tracks the sound to an alley- the nearest shelter. There’s a man doubled over, hand braced against the rough brick, mouth dribbling and eyes watering.
“Excuse me,” Roy ventures, and the man glances up, startled.
His glasses have slid down his nose, slick with sweat, but when he pushes them up and the bright glass shields fall into place over wide blue eyes, Mustang recognizes him.
“Mr. Tucker,” he says. “Are you all right?”
“I just-“ Tucker scrubs at his drooling mouth with his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I was just-“
He looks so shaken and pale. Mustang takes pity on him, gives him an out.
“Of course, the trials can be quite a strain on the nerves.” Then, a generous lie: “I was a wreck after mine.”
“Nerves,” Tucker echoes, nodding vaguely.
Mustang wants to study him, but while most people are blithely unaware of his critical eye, Tucker reacts instantly. The moment Roy focuses his gaze, the other flinches and shies away, as though he felt the stare like a physical blow. Feeling slightly guilty, Roy glances off to the side, politely ignoring the mess on the pavement.
“This was your third year at the trials, wasn’t it?” He shifts the attention away from himself.
“...yes.”
Although Tucker’s glasses are already pushed up on the bridge of his nose, he deftly adjusts them, catching the light so that it momentarily flashes off the glass and gives him a split-second to compose himself- a trick that is surely no accident, but a practiced maneuver. Mustang is impressed by the subtlety of the gesture. He moves closer to Tucker, claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about this time,” he smiles confidently. “The board has never seen anything like it. The craftsmanship in that chimera- I’m quite curious myself as to how you-“
Suddenly, Tucker falls away from under his hand, bent double as another flood of nausea slams into him and he vomits again, the sound of the splash almost swallowing up his pitiful yelp. Mustang can’t help but notice that it’s nothing but ugly yellow bile- the man hasn’t eaten in quite some time. He steps back discreetly to avoid the spreading puddle.
When Tucker finishes, he leans against the unforgiving brick, wheezing and shaking. His eyes and nose are running, and his chin is slick with proof of his weakness. To save him the disgrace, Roy reaches into his jacket and fetches a clean white handkerchief, offering it silently. Tucker checks his face for any hint of trickery, but when he realizes the offer is genuine, he accepts the handkerchief and mops his face gratefully.
“I’ll expect that back from you,” Roy says sternly, “At the dinner to celebrate your new title of State Alchemist.”
Tucker shivers and murmurs, “Yes, I do believe I’ve earned it this time.”
_____end.
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Roy Mustang, Shou Tucker. Fullmetal Alchemist [first anime series].
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG
Summary: Some men don't handle pressure well.
Warnings: Bodily fluids.
Notes: Takes place immediately after Tucker has presented the chimera that would earn him the rank of State Alchemist. Originally written for the prompt 'Lend' at fma_fic_contest , this became the first in a series called Whiskey and Wine, a collection of fics about the Roy/Shou pairing. It's become a pet project of mine, and this is the fic that started it all! Enjoy.
Roy hasn’t gone far when he hears a faint retching and the unmistakable splatter of vomit hitting the pavement.
Against his better judgment, he tracks the sound to an alley- the nearest shelter. There’s a man doubled over, hand braced against the rough brick, mouth dribbling and eyes watering.
“Excuse me,” Roy ventures, and the man glances up, startled.
His glasses have slid down his nose, slick with sweat, but when he pushes them up and the bright glass shields fall into place over wide blue eyes, Mustang recognizes him.
“Mr. Tucker,” he says. “Are you all right?”
“I just-“ Tucker scrubs at his drooling mouth with his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I was just-“
He looks so shaken and pale. Mustang takes pity on him, gives him an out.
“Of course, the trials can be quite a strain on the nerves.” Then, a generous lie: “I was a wreck after mine.”
“Nerves,” Tucker echoes, nodding vaguely.
Mustang wants to study him, but while most people are blithely unaware of his critical eye, Tucker reacts instantly. The moment Roy focuses his gaze, the other flinches and shies away, as though he felt the stare like a physical blow. Feeling slightly guilty, Roy glances off to the side, politely ignoring the mess on the pavement.
“This was your third year at the trials, wasn’t it?” He shifts the attention away from himself.
“...yes.”
Although Tucker’s glasses are already pushed up on the bridge of his nose, he deftly adjusts them, catching the light so that it momentarily flashes off the glass and gives him a split-second to compose himself- a trick that is surely no accident, but a practiced maneuver. Mustang is impressed by the subtlety of the gesture. He moves closer to Tucker, claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about this time,” he smiles confidently. “The board has never seen anything like it. The craftsmanship in that chimera- I’m quite curious myself as to how you-“
Suddenly, Tucker falls away from under his hand, bent double as another flood of nausea slams into him and he vomits again, the sound of the splash almost swallowing up his pitiful yelp. Mustang can’t help but notice that it’s nothing but ugly yellow bile- the man hasn’t eaten in quite some time. He steps back discreetly to avoid the spreading puddle.
When Tucker finishes, he leans against the unforgiving brick, wheezing and shaking. His eyes and nose are running, and his chin is slick with proof of his weakness. To save him the disgrace, Roy reaches into his jacket and fetches a clean white handkerchief, offering it silently. Tucker checks his face for any hint of trickery, but when he realizes the offer is genuine, he accepts the handkerchief and mops his face gratefully.
“I’ll expect that back from you,” Roy says sternly, “At the dinner to celebrate your new title of State Alchemist.”
Tucker shivers and murmurs, “Yes, I do believe I’ve earned it this time.”
_____end.