Prompt 233, Take Me Home, "One Cigarette"
Author: Goldfishlover73
Word Count: 993
Rating: PG
Characters: Havoc, Hawkeye
Summary: It was a part of their late-nights-at-the-office rituals. One smoke and then they're done.
Warnings: Smoking may appear like a cool thing to do.
It was one of those late nights in the office again. Just the two of them. After their “late meetings” they'd come back to the office to finish up the heavy amount of “paperwork.” That is, if anyone asked.
Usually it went like tonight; Both of their blue jackets were laying across their desk as Havoc was operated on. He was leaning back in his chair, trying not to squint at the bright light from one of the lamps Hawkeye pulled over to properly stitch up his forehead.
He sighed. “The things I do for the good of this country.” he mumbled.
She hummed in agreement, pricking him with a needle as she stitched a gash above his eye. Out of his peripherals he saw her bring a small pair of scissors next to his eye. With a snip, she patted his shoulder, “You're good.” he pulled himself up, raising his brows, testing the stretch of the thread. He pressed his bangs down, “Acceptable?”
She gave him a small smile. “Just don't run your hand through your hair in front of the superiors and you'll be fine.” she crossed the small distance between his desk and hers, leaning causally against hers, legs crossed at the ankles.
He grinned, pulling his cigarettes out of his right pocket, his lighter out of his left. With one fluid motion, he flicked the top of the lighter and had it lit as he placed the cigarette in his mouth. He inhaled the warm smoke, sighing loudly as it entered his lungs.
He looked over to the Lieutenant Colonel. “You want one?”
If anyone from their team had heard him ask her that, they'd look at him like the gash to the head was more than five stitches. Or, they would have at least laughed. But these late night rendezvous (for lack of a better word) had made Havoc realize a lot about his only female coworker.
She gave him a curt nod. He tucked the lighter in the pack and tossed it gently to her. She expertly popped the cigarette and lighter out of the pack and with just as much skill, flipped, flicked and lit the stick with one fluid motion.
She took a long drag, leaning back on her desk, exhaling with a not-so-loud sigh. She tucked the lighter back in the pack and tossed it back.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged, pocketing the pack. She moved from leaning on her desk to his as he pulled out the black ash tray Breda had swiped from a hotel a few years back-a Christmas gift or something.
She flicked the ash into the tray before bringing it back to her lips. Maybe it was because Havoc didn't know a lot of women that smoked, or because it was Hawkeye, but it turned him on a little bit.
But the more and more time he spent with her, the more the things she did turned him on-a little bit.
He leaned back in his chair, taking a hit of his own cig. “How's the dog?” This was also part of their routine. Small chit chat until the smoke had cleared. She'd open the window to air out the office (so it didn't smell like Havoc was chain smoking in here after hours) and then with jackets and piles of paper in hand they would leave, complaining loud enough for anyone still around to hear how lazy Mustang was.
“Well behaved.” she said with a relaxed sigh. She looked at him with an odd expression.
He grinned, “At least we don't have to worry about what's his name anymore.”
She smiled, blowing a haze of smoke out of almost pursed lips. Havoc shook his head. It was hypnotizing.
“I don't get why you don't tell anyone.” he said, taking the time to take another drag. He waved his own cigarette for emphasis. “No one's going to give you shit.” he laughed, “Maybe, it make you more intimidating.”
She frowned. Flicking a bit of ash into the tray. “Maybe that's the point.”
Havoc raised a brow, hissing slightly.
She rolled her eyes. “I have enough men in this military afraid I'm going to snipe their balls off as it is.” She looked over and he just couldn't hide his wide, wide grin. It made her laugh.
Another rarity of their long nights together. She laughed. Something he didn't even think Mustang had heard.
He waved her off, sticking the cigarette in his mouth. “Ah, you just need to find the right guy.” he winked, “One that doesn't know your accuracy out on the range.” he shrugged, almost regretting the next words as they slipped out. “Though, to me a, a girl that can aim is pretty hot.”
She didn't laugh. She just watched him. He ran what he said through his mind. I'm going to at least get smacked.
Her next words took him off guard. “Take me home, Lieutenant Havoc.” She pressed the butt of the cigarette into the tray, pulling herself off his desk, grabbing her dress blue jacket and gun holsters.
He sat straight in his chair, the cigarette almost falling out of his mouth. “Wait-what?” she grabbed his jacket and hastily shoved it at him. She drug the lamp to it's place in the corner and shut it off. He watched as she hustled around the room, quickly putting things the way they were before they came back after their little mission.
She huffed slightly, a smile creeping on her face. She seemed very sure of herself. “Walk me home, Havoc. We'll have another smoke in my apartment.” the way she said that made it feel like someone cranked the thermostat up a bit.
He hesitated, before looking between her and his ash tray. Fuck it. “Yeah, sure.”
He stood, but she had him by the scruff of his shirt, dragging him out of the room, leaving the stale scent of smoke to linger.
Word Count: 993
Rating: PG
Characters: Havoc, Hawkeye
Summary: It was a part of their late-nights-at-the-office rituals. One smoke and then they're done.
Warnings: Smoking may appear like a cool thing to do.
It was one of those late nights in the office again. Just the two of them. After their “late meetings” they'd come back to the office to finish up the heavy amount of “paperwork.” That is, if anyone asked.
Usually it went like tonight; Both of their blue jackets were laying across their desk as Havoc was operated on. He was leaning back in his chair, trying not to squint at the bright light from one of the lamps Hawkeye pulled over to properly stitch up his forehead.
He sighed. “The things I do for the good of this country.” he mumbled.
She hummed in agreement, pricking him with a needle as she stitched a gash above his eye. Out of his peripherals he saw her bring a small pair of scissors next to his eye. With a snip, she patted his shoulder, “You're good.” he pulled himself up, raising his brows, testing the stretch of the thread. He pressed his bangs down, “Acceptable?”
She gave him a small smile. “Just don't run your hand through your hair in front of the superiors and you'll be fine.” she crossed the small distance between his desk and hers, leaning causally against hers, legs crossed at the ankles.
He grinned, pulling his cigarettes out of his right pocket, his lighter out of his left. With one fluid motion, he flicked the top of the lighter and had it lit as he placed the cigarette in his mouth. He inhaled the warm smoke, sighing loudly as it entered his lungs.
He looked over to the Lieutenant Colonel. “You want one?”
If anyone from their team had heard him ask her that, they'd look at him like the gash to the head was more than five stitches. Or, they would have at least laughed. But these late night rendezvous (for lack of a better word) had made Havoc realize a lot about his only female coworker.
She gave him a curt nod. He tucked the lighter in the pack and tossed it gently to her. She expertly popped the cigarette and lighter out of the pack and with just as much skill, flipped, flicked and lit the stick with one fluid motion.
She took a long drag, leaning back on her desk, exhaling with a not-so-loud sigh. She tucked the lighter back in the pack and tossed it back.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged, pocketing the pack. She moved from leaning on her desk to his as he pulled out the black ash tray Breda had swiped from a hotel a few years back-a Christmas gift or something.
She flicked the ash into the tray before bringing it back to her lips. Maybe it was because Havoc didn't know a lot of women that smoked, or because it was Hawkeye, but it turned him on a little bit.
But the more and more time he spent with her, the more the things she did turned him on-a little bit.
He leaned back in his chair, taking a hit of his own cig. “How's the dog?” This was also part of their routine. Small chit chat until the smoke had cleared. She'd open the window to air out the office (so it didn't smell like Havoc was chain smoking in here after hours) and then with jackets and piles of paper in hand they would leave, complaining loud enough for anyone still around to hear how lazy Mustang was.
“Well behaved.” she said with a relaxed sigh. She looked at him with an odd expression.
He grinned, “At least we don't have to worry about what's his name anymore.”
She smiled, blowing a haze of smoke out of almost pursed lips. Havoc shook his head. It was hypnotizing.
“I don't get why you don't tell anyone.” he said, taking the time to take another drag. He waved his own cigarette for emphasis. “No one's going to give you shit.” he laughed, “Maybe, it make you more intimidating.”
She frowned. Flicking a bit of ash into the tray. “Maybe that's the point.”
Havoc raised a brow, hissing slightly.
She rolled her eyes. “I have enough men in this military afraid I'm going to snipe their balls off as it is.” She looked over and he just couldn't hide his wide, wide grin. It made her laugh.
Another rarity of their long nights together. She laughed. Something he didn't even think Mustang had heard.
He waved her off, sticking the cigarette in his mouth. “Ah, you just need to find the right guy.” he winked, “One that doesn't know your accuracy out on the range.” he shrugged, almost regretting the next words as they slipped out. “Though, to me a, a girl that can aim is pretty hot.”
She didn't laugh. She just watched him. He ran what he said through his mind. I'm going to at least get smacked.
Her next words took him off guard. “Take me home, Lieutenant Havoc.” She pressed the butt of the cigarette into the tray, pulling herself off his desk, grabbing her dress blue jacket and gun holsters.
He sat straight in his chair, the cigarette almost falling out of his mouth. “Wait-what?” she grabbed his jacket and hastily shoved it at him. She drug the lamp to it's place in the corner and shut it off. He watched as she hustled around the room, quickly putting things the way they were before they came back after their little mission.
She huffed slightly, a smile creeping on her face. She seemed very sure of herself. “Walk me home, Havoc. We'll have another smoke in my apartment.” the way she said that made it feel like someone cranked the thermostat up a bit.
He hesitated, before looking between her and his ash tray. Fuck it. “Yeah, sure.”
He stood, but she had him by the scruff of his shirt, dragging him out of the room, leaving the stale scent of smoke to linger.