Full Metal Alchemist, "A Journey of a Thousand Miles," Jean/Roy, NC-17
I'm learning that galuxkitty has favorite kinks with Roy and Jean, and that it's fun to try to write as many as possible into a single story. I won't lie, that's where this story came from, 100%. It's NC-17 because ... well frankly, galuxkitty is a shamelessly perverted voyeuristic Jean Havoc fangirl, and I honestly can't (and won't) claim to be any different.
A Journey of a Thousand Miles
by Mistr3ss Quickly
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
Snow was falling harder, so much so that Private Roy Mustang couldn't see properly where the road lay, anymore, but he was following the treeline, so he knew he'd be okay. Each step was important, he told himself. Each step would take him closer to Jean.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with ...
Only an hour, he told himself over and over. Only an hour had passed since Jean had left his tiny, drafty outpost cabin, frustrated and hurt and probably more than a little angry with his lover's stubbornness, disappearing into the swirling snow while Roy had sat on his lumpy sofa with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting like a teenager. Only an hour had passed, so he had probably just gotten to the inn, probably just taken off his coat ...
The thought of taking off any article of clothing made Roy shiver, made him pull his own greatcoat closer around his body, hiding himself from the cold of falling night, of the building storm.
A journey of a thousand miles ...
The bits of his stubborn pride still clinging to his consciousness informed him that he would look like a half-dead cat, dragging in covered in snow, begging Jean to forgive him, to take him home, but the sharp bite of the wind-numbing his ears and making his good eye water-numbed him to his shame, numbed him to everything but the movement of his legs, the pull of his muscles as he trudged through the deep snow, what felt like his entire being focused solely on reaching his lover before the man could slip away from him, before Jean could do as he'd been sharply ordered to do and leave him alone.
A journey of ...
He saw the light of the inn, could just make out the peeling paint of the sign out front, just as night had truly fallen, and was beginning to honestly worry that he'd not have the energy to ask which room his lover had checked into, then drag himself to the correct room, when he heard footsteps, fast and sharp against the clean-swept sidewalk outside the inn, heard his own name on a broken shout, Jean's voice cracking like a teenager's.
"Roy! Holy shit, are ... are you okay?"
Jean's arms caught Roy just as Roy's legs gave out, and Roy offered no resistance when the man scooped him up like a child and carried him down the walk towards his room, his body shielding Roy somewhat from the whipping wind as he nudged the door open, murmuring something about being glad he'd not locked it when he went out for a smoke. Roy heard the squeak of the mattress, too tired to open his eyes and look around, too tired to more than nod when Jean spoke his name, over and over.
"Roy, answer me," said Jean, gently shaking the man in his arms, preventing Roy from slipping into unconsciousness. "Roy, come on, you're scaring me."
When Roy didn't answer, Jean hugged him close and rose, carrying the man into the bathroom, settling on the edge of the bathtub only long enough to turn on the water, waiting for it to warm before lowering Roy into the tub, fully clothed, ignoring the man's surprised stuttering, Roy's weak protests.
"Gotta get you warmed up, Boss," he said, ducking under the warm spray of the shower and unbuckling Roy's boots, dropping them just outside the tub before struggling out of his own boots and joining Roy in the bath, water dripping in his eyes as he pulled Roy forward and gently began working the man's soggy overcoat off of Roy's trembling arms.
"Jean," said Roy, wrapping his arms around Jean's shoulders and lifting himself, allowing the younger man to work his coat out from under him, dropping it to the floor in a dripping heap, just beside his boots, "you're ... you don't need to make a big deal out of it, I'm fine."
"Roy," said Jean, "your lips are blue and you're shivering. You're cold to the touch and you collapsed outside. It would be negligent of me to not take every precaution I know to take to warm you up."
Roy cracked his good eye and tried to smile. "You've been around Riza too long, Jean. Starting to sound like her."
"Thanks," said Jean distractedly, unfastening Roy's uniform jacket and working it down the man's arms. "That's a compliment, I think."
Roy hmm'd softly. "Could be," he said, too tired to come up with anything else. He lay still and closed his eye, breathing the warm steam swirling around him as Jean freed him from his trousers and coattails, the water in the bath starting to accumulate around them, the drain partially blocked by Jean's body, curled tightly at the head of the tub. When Roy felt Jean's fingers slip under the elastic of his briefs, he grunted and batted the man away, reaching for Jean instead, pulling him close in an awkward, soggy hug.
"Hang on, Roy," said Jean, softly, pulling away. "Let me fill the tub, then I'll hold you."
Roy snorted, too tired to complain that Jean was treating him like a child. And really, the feel of warm water rising around him, the feel of Jean pulling him close, strong and warm and wet, was so nice, so comforting and familiar and welcome that Roy forgot about it altogether, cuddled against his lover's chest, his good eye blinded by the water-darkened front of Jean's uniform, his eye-patch wet and uncomfortable over the scars where his eye had once been.
Tired and warm and half-naked and safe, he sighed and let go, trusting Jean to keep him afloat.
~♥~♥~♥~
By the time Jean managed to rouse him, an hour later, and get him to sit up under his own power, Roy's fingers had gone prune-y, his hair mostly-dry and sticking up at odd angles, much like a dark version of Jean's usual hairstyle. Grumpy and yawning, he sat in the cooling bathwater, laughing a little at the sight of his lover trying to strip out of a thoroughly-soaked Military uniform, the tassels and buttons and tails and snaps all completely uncooperative, twisted at odd angles from the weight of the thick cotton, water-logged and dripping.
Freed from his uniform, the younger man padded out of the room, returning moments later with a towel around his waist and another slung over his shoulder, fluffy and warm-looking to Roy, who shivered the entire time Jean undressed him the rest of the way, wet dress-shirt and briefs and forlornly limp socks leaving a puddle on the bathroom tiles as he toweled himself off, following Jean into the main room and flopping down on the bed.
"Here," said Jean, digging around in his duffle and handing Roy a sweater. "This'll be big on you, but it's the warmest thing I've got."
Roy smiled at him, doing his best not to shiver too much, damp skin chilling in the cooler air of the main room. "Don't forget your training, Jean," he said, cocking his head. "Best way to warm someone up in the field is to lie naked with them in a bedroll, you know that. I'm sure a regular bed would work, too."
Jean hesitated, his hands worrying the thick sweater he'd been offering his lover. "I didn't want to ... presume anything," he said, slowly. "But if that's what you want ..."
"Mmm, yes," said Roy. "That's what I want."
He slid off the bed and pulled back the covers, waiting for Jean to lie down before climbing in beside the man, curled around Jean's body while Jean pulled the blankets up over them, heavy and warm and clean-smelling, not musty and smelling of smoke from the fireplace like Roy's bedroll had been in his outpost cabin, scratchy and barely warm enough. Roy sighed and kissed Jean's chest, just above the man's nipple, his hand playing with the trail of hair that led from Jean's navel to the curls surrounding his sex, silky and finer than his own.
Familiar.
Comforting.
"Thank you," he murmured, "for taking care of me."
Jean pressed a kiss to the top of his head, tightening the arm wrapped securely around Roy's back in a lopsided sort of hug. "You needed it," he said, simply.
Roy closed his good eye. "I'm sorry," he said, "for everything."
Jean sighed and kissed his hair again. "Don't apologize for everything, Boss," he said, quietly. "Most of it's been good."
And that time, his arm didn't loosen. Roy smiled and opened his eyes, suddenly feeling very much awake.
~♥~♥~♥~
In a perfect world, they'd have made love, Roy was certain of it. He wanted to, desperately wanted to.
But Jean wouldn't go for it, gasping between deep, passionate kisses that Roy's body was too weak from months of not eating properly, from the hours spent trudging through a blizzard no man in his right mind would venture out into, and besides that he'd not brought any form of lubricant along with him, and didn't have anything they could use as a substitute.
Roy whined, unable to deny his lover's panting logic.
"Still want you," he whispered.
Jean groaned.
"Okay," he said, wrapping both arms around Roy and rolling him, his weight pinning Roy to the mattress. "Okay, Roy."
Then he pulled away, spreading Roy's legs and settling between them, Roy's sparsely-haired thighs cradling his hips as he leant down and kissed the man, deep forceful, tongue thrusting in the same almost-even rhythm he'd used while making love to Roy, back when the man had been his commanding officer during the day, his passionate lover at night. Arched over Roy's body, he closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around the man's erection, his other hand gently cupping Roy's balls, lifting them out of the way as he blindly sought Roy's entrance, tight and dry and unyielding to the pressure of his index finger, just as it had been their first time, years before.
"Je~an," Roy whispered, tossing his head side-to-side, dark hair scrubbing the pillowcase.
"Yeah, Roy?"
"Good," said Roy, bucking his hips a little. "It's good."
Jean smiled and kissed him, pulling away even when Roy whined and nipped at him, and slid under the covers, taking care that Roy was still covered, still warm, before taking him into his mouth, sucking hard straight away, rubbing the tips of two fingers against Roy's anus, stretching the muscle without slipping inside, teasing without satisfying. He knew Roy would finish quickly from that, knew it wouldn't last as long as the older man would probably prefer, but he didn't care.
No teasing. No games.
Nothing but Roy moaning under him, Roy's entrance quivering and clenching and spasming; nothing but Roy's cock pulsing thick semen into his mouth and down his throat, Roy's hands grasping desperately at his hair. Nothing but Roy's voice breaking as he cried Jean's name, over and over and over.
Jean swallowed him, licking carefully until Roy was clean and softening in his mouth, then slid up the man's body and kissed him, let Roy taste his own semen in their kiss.
"I love you, Roy," he said, pulling away to let Roy breathe, to let Roy sink into the calm that only follows orgasm.
Roy whimpered. "Love you too, Jean," he whispered. "Let me-"
"I'm fine, Roy," said Jean, batting the man's hand away from his straining erection. "You need to rest."
Roy smirked at him. "Roy Mustang never rests," he said, "when his partner is unsatisfied. Come on, Jean, you know that."
Jean blinked at him, then sighed, defeated. "Yeah, Boss," he said. "Kiss me?"
"As much as you want," said Roy.
He cupped Jean's face in both hands and drew him down, kissing him slowly and carefully, kissing him like a lover. When Jean trembled against him, one of his big, calloused hands working himself steadily, his knuckles brushing against Roy's thigh, faster and faster, Roy moaned for him and kissed him harder, sliding both hands down Jean's body, holding him close for the precious few minutes before Jean started to come, spurting across his lover's thighs, making a sticky mess of Roy's softened cock, semen clinging wetly to the dusting of hair on Roy's balls. Jean shuddered and sighed, nipped gently at the tip of Roy's tongue and sat back, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, his hand wet with semen, slick and glistening in the low light from the bathroom.
"I'm gonna ..." He motioned vaguely towards the bathroom. "We need a towel," he said, stumbling out of bed with his usual awkward grace, opening his mouth to protest when Roy slid out of bed and joined him in the bathroom, stepping delicately around their still-soaked clothes.
"Don't baby me, Jean," said Roy, using his own discarded dress-shirt to mop his lover's semen off of his thighs, scrubbing at the mess with one of the shirttails. "I'll get used to it and never let you stop, if you're not careful."
Jean laughed softly. "Just don't overdo it," he said. "Radio said no-one should go out in this storm, you know. Worst they've had in ten years, up here."
Roy shrugged. "No time to check, before I left," he said. "I didn't know if you'd take an early train out."
"That's my plan," said Jean, shutting off the water and scratching the back of his head. "You coming with me?"
Roy hesitated. "The Military is my life, Jean," he said. "I can't retire and live as a civilian. I'll go mad."
Jean nodded. "I know," he said. "Can't come back and work with me, either, right? Too weird, too ... too ..."
"Paranoid," supplied Roy.
"Yeah," said Jean. "That."
"Then there's nowhere for me, Jean," said Roy, his nerve abandoning him. "Here, at least I-"
Jean's kiss quieted him. "Consultant," he said. "Like Edward and his brother. Not enlisted, not civilian. It'd only be for six months or so, but ... that'd be enough time for you to decide if you wanted to come back, right?"
"I suppose," said Roy. "And after that six months?"
Jean shrugged. "One step at a time, Boss," he said.
"One step at a time?" said Roy.
Jean offered him a toothy, lopsided grin. "'S what my mom said when I enlisted and was packing up my stuff, panicking about boot camp," he said. "'One step at a time, take everything in stride.' Not bad advice, really."
"Mmm," said Roy. "Your mother is a smart woman."
"Yeah," said Jean. He wrapped his arm around Roy's waist and tugged, guiding the man back to bed. "Come on," he said, when Roy tried to pull him into bed as well, "you need to rest. I'm just gonna hang up our clothes, I'll be right back."
Roy sighed. "Very well," he said.
~♥~♥~♥~
By the time Jean had finished with their uniforms and slid into bed, spooning around Roy's warm body, Roy was fast asleep, one hand fisted in the covers, the other buried under his pillow. Jean smiled and pressed a kiss to his lover's shoulder, then closed his eyes and sighed, falling asleep to the familiar sound of Roy's gentle breathing, the steady beat of Roy's heart beneath his palm.
One step closer to home.
A Journey of a Thousand Miles
by Mistr3ss Quickly
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
Snow was falling harder, so much so that Private Roy Mustang couldn't see properly where the road lay, anymore, but he was following the treeline, so he knew he'd be okay. Each step was important, he told himself. Each step would take him closer to Jean.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with ...
Only an hour, he told himself over and over. Only an hour had passed since Jean had left his tiny, drafty outpost cabin, frustrated and hurt and probably more than a little angry with his lover's stubbornness, disappearing into the swirling snow while Roy had sat on his lumpy sofa with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting like a teenager. Only an hour had passed, so he had probably just gotten to the inn, probably just taken off his coat ...
The thought of taking off any article of clothing made Roy shiver, made him pull his own greatcoat closer around his body, hiding himself from the cold of falling night, of the building storm.
A journey of a thousand miles ...
The bits of his stubborn pride still clinging to his consciousness informed him that he would look like a half-dead cat, dragging in covered in snow, begging Jean to forgive him, to take him home, but the sharp bite of the wind-numbing his ears and making his good eye water-numbed him to his shame, numbed him to everything but the movement of his legs, the pull of his muscles as he trudged through the deep snow, what felt like his entire being focused solely on reaching his lover before the man could slip away from him, before Jean could do as he'd been sharply ordered to do and leave him alone.
A journey of ...
He saw the light of the inn, could just make out the peeling paint of the sign out front, just as night had truly fallen, and was beginning to honestly worry that he'd not have the energy to ask which room his lover had checked into, then drag himself to the correct room, when he heard footsteps, fast and sharp against the clean-swept sidewalk outside the inn, heard his own name on a broken shout, Jean's voice cracking like a teenager's.
"Roy! Holy shit, are ... are you okay?"
Jean's arms caught Roy just as Roy's legs gave out, and Roy offered no resistance when the man scooped him up like a child and carried him down the walk towards his room, his body shielding Roy somewhat from the whipping wind as he nudged the door open, murmuring something about being glad he'd not locked it when he went out for a smoke. Roy heard the squeak of the mattress, too tired to open his eyes and look around, too tired to more than nod when Jean spoke his name, over and over.
"Roy, answer me," said Jean, gently shaking the man in his arms, preventing Roy from slipping into unconsciousness. "Roy, come on, you're scaring me."
When Roy didn't answer, Jean hugged him close and rose, carrying the man into the bathroom, settling on the edge of the bathtub only long enough to turn on the water, waiting for it to warm before lowering Roy into the tub, fully clothed, ignoring the man's surprised stuttering, Roy's weak protests.
"Gotta get you warmed up, Boss," he said, ducking under the warm spray of the shower and unbuckling Roy's boots, dropping them just outside the tub before struggling out of his own boots and joining Roy in the bath, water dripping in his eyes as he pulled Roy forward and gently began working the man's soggy overcoat off of Roy's trembling arms.
"Jean," said Roy, wrapping his arms around Jean's shoulders and lifting himself, allowing the younger man to work his coat out from under him, dropping it to the floor in a dripping heap, just beside his boots, "you're ... you don't need to make a big deal out of it, I'm fine."
"Roy," said Jean, "your lips are blue and you're shivering. You're cold to the touch and you collapsed outside. It would be negligent of me to not take every precaution I know to take to warm you up."
Roy cracked his good eye and tried to smile. "You've been around Riza too long, Jean. Starting to sound like her."
"Thanks," said Jean distractedly, unfastening Roy's uniform jacket and working it down the man's arms. "That's a compliment, I think."
Roy hmm'd softly. "Could be," he said, too tired to come up with anything else. He lay still and closed his eye, breathing the warm steam swirling around him as Jean freed him from his trousers and coattails, the water in the bath starting to accumulate around them, the drain partially blocked by Jean's body, curled tightly at the head of the tub. When Roy felt Jean's fingers slip under the elastic of his briefs, he grunted and batted the man away, reaching for Jean instead, pulling him close in an awkward, soggy hug.
"Hang on, Roy," said Jean, softly, pulling away. "Let me fill the tub, then I'll hold you."
Roy snorted, too tired to complain that Jean was treating him like a child. And really, the feel of warm water rising around him, the feel of Jean pulling him close, strong and warm and wet, was so nice, so comforting and familiar and welcome that Roy forgot about it altogether, cuddled against his lover's chest, his good eye blinded by the water-darkened front of Jean's uniform, his eye-patch wet and uncomfortable over the scars where his eye had once been.
Tired and warm and half-naked and safe, he sighed and let go, trusting Jean to keep him afloat.
~♥~♥~♥~
By the time Jean managed to rouse him, an hour later, and get him to sit up under his own power, Roy's fingers had gone prune-y, his hair mostly-dry and sticking up at odd angles, much like a dark version of Jean's usual hairstyle. Grumpy and yawning, he sat in the cooling bathwater, laughing a little at the sight of his lover trying to strip out of a thoroughly-soaked Military uniform, the tassels and buttons and tails and snaps all completely uncooperative, twisted at odd angles from the weight of the thick cotton, water-logged and dripping.
Freed from his uniform, the younger man padded out of the room, returning moments later with a towel around his waist and another slung over his shoulder, fluffy and warm-looking to Roy, who shivered the entire time Jean undressed him the rest of the way, wet dress-shirt and briefs and forlornly limp socks leaving a puddle on the bathroom tiles as he toweled himself off, following Jean into the main room and flopping down on the bed.
"Here," said Jean, digging around in his duffle and handing Roy a sweater. "This'll be big on you, but it's the warmest thing I've got."
Roy smiled at him, doing his best not to shiver too much, damp skin chilling in the cooler air of the main room. "Don't forget your training, Jean," he said, cocking his head. "Best way to warm someone up in the field is to lie naked with them in a bedroll, you know that. I'm sure a regular bed would work, too."
Jean hesitated, his hands worrying the thick sweater he'd been offering his lover. "I didn't want to ... presume anything," he said, slowly. "But if that's what you want ..."
"Mmm, yes," said Roy. "That's what I want."
He slid off the bed and pulled back the covers, waiting for Jean to lie down before climbing in beside the man, curled around Jean's body while Jean pulled the blankets up over them, heavy and warm and clean-smelling, not musty and smelling of smoke from the fireplace like Roy's bedroll had been in his outpost cabin, scratchy and barely warm enough. Roy sighed and kissed Jean's chest, just above the man's nipple, his hand playing with the trail of hair that led from Jean's navel to the curls surrounding his sex, silky and finer than his own.
Familiar.
Comforting.
"Thank you," he murmured, "for taking care of me."
Jean pressed a kiss to the top of his head, tightening the arm wrapped securely around Roy's back in a lopsided sort of hug. "You needed it," he said, simply.
Roy closed his good eye. "I'm sorry," he said, "for everything."
Jean sighed and kissed his hair again. "Don't apologize for everything, Boss," he said, quietly. "Most of it's been good."
And that time, his arm didn't loosen. Roy smiled and opened his eyes, suddenly feeling very much awake.
~♥~♥~♥~
In a perfect world, they'd have made love, Roy was certain of it. He wanted to, desperately wanted to.
But Jean wouldn't go for it, gasping between deep, passionate kisses that Roy's body was too weak from months of not eating properly, from the hours spent trudging through a blizzard no man in his right mind would venture out into, and besides that he'd not brought any form of lubricant along with him, and didn't have anything they could use as a substitute.
Roy whined, unable to deny his lover's panting logic.
"Still want you," he whispered.
Jean groaned.
"Okay," he said, wrapping both arms around Roy and rolling him, his weight pinning Roy to the mattress. "Okay, Roy."
Then he pulled away, spreading Roy's legs and settling between them, Roy's sparsely-haired thighs cradling his hips as he leant down and kissed the man, deep forceful, tongue thrusting in the same almost-even rhythm he'd used while making love to Roy, back when the man had been his commanding officer during the day, his passionate lover at night. Arched over Roy's body, he closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around the man's erection, his other hand gently cupping Roy's balls, lifting them out of the way as he blindly sought Roy's entrance, tight and dry and unyielding to the pressure of his index finger, just as it had been their first time, years before.
"Je~an," Roy whispered, tossing his head side-to-side, dark hair scrubbing the pillowcase.
"Yeah, Roy?"
"Good," said Roy, bucking his hips a little. "It's good."
Jean smiled and kissed him, pulling away even when Roy whined and nipped at him, and slid under the covers, taking care that Roy was still covered, still warm, before taking him into his mouth, sucking hard straight away, rubbing the tips of two fingers against Roy's anus, stretching the muscle without slipping inside, teasing without satisfying. He knew Roy would finish quickly from that, knew it wouldn't last as long as the older man would probably prefer, but he didn't care.
No teasing. No games.
Nothing but Roy moaning under him, Roy's entrance quivering and clenching and spasming; nothing but Roy's cock pulsing thick semen into his mouth and down his throat, Roy's hands grasping desperately at his hair. Nothing but Roy's voice breaking as he cried Jean's name, over and over and over.
Jean swallowed him, licking carefully until Roy was clean and softening in his mouth, then slid up the man's body and kissed him, let Roy taste his own semen in their kiss.
"I love you, Roy," he said, pulling away to let Roy breathe, to let Roy sink into the calm that only follows orgasm.
Roy whimpered. "Love you too, Jean," he whispered. "Let me-"
"I'm fine, Roy," said Jean, batting the man's hand away from his straining erection. "You need to rest."
Roy smirked at him. "Roy Mustang never rests," he said, "when his partner is unsatisfied. Come on, Jean, you know that."
Jean blinked at him, then sighed, defeated. "Yeah, Boss," he said. "Kiss me?"
"As much as you want," said Roy.
He cupped Jean's face in both hands and drew him down, kissing him slowly and carefully, kissing him like a lover. When Jean trembled against him, one of his big, calloused hands working himself steadily, his knuckles brushing against Roy's thigh, faster and faster, Roy moaned for him and kissed him harder, sliding both hands down Jean's body, holding him close for the precious few minutes before Jean started to come, spurting across his lover's thighs, making a sticky mess of Roy's softened cock, semen clinging wetly to the dusting of hair on Roy's balls. Jean shuddered and sighed, nipped gently at the tip of Roy's tongue and sat back, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, his hand wet with semen, slick and glistening in the low light from the bathroom.
"I'm gonna ..." He motioned vaguely towards the bathroom. "We need a towel," he said, stumbling out of bed with his usual awkward grace, opening his mouth to protest when Roy slid out of bed and joined him in the bathroom, stepping delicately around their still-soaked clothes.
"Don't baby me, Jean," said Roy, using his own discarded dress-shirt to mop his lover's semen off of his thighs, scrubbing at the mess with one of the shirttails. "I'll get used to it and never let you stop, if you're not careful."
Jean laughed softly. "Just don't overdo it," he said. "Radio said no-one should go out in this storm, you know. Worst they've had in ten years, up here."
Roy shrugged. "No time to check, before I left," he said. "I didn't know if you'd take an early train out."
"That's my plan," said Jean, shutting off the water and scratching the back of his head. "You coming with me?"
Roy hesitated. "The Military is my life, Jean," he said. "I can't retire and live as a civilian. I'll go mad."
Jean nodded. "I know," he said. "Can't come back and work with me, either, right? Too weird, too ... too ..."
"Paranoid," supplied Roy.
"Yeah," said Jean. "That."
"Then there's nowhere for me, Jean," said Roy, his nerve abandoning him. "Here, at least I-"
Jean's kiss quieted him. "Consultant," he said. "Like Edward and his brother. Not enlisted, not civilian. It'd only be for six months or so, but ... that'd be enough time for you to decide if you wanted to come back, right?"
"I suppose," said Roy. "And after that six months?"
Jean shrugged. "One step at a time, Boss," he said.
"One step at a time?" said Roy.
Jean offered him a toothy, lopsided grin. "'S what my mom said when I enlisted and was packing up my stuff, panicking about boot camp," he said. "'One step at a time, take everything in stride.' Not bad advice, really."
"Mmm," said Roy. "Your mother is a smart woman."
"Yeah," said Jean. He wrapped his arm around Roy's waist and tugged, guiding the man back to bed. "Come on," he said, when Roy tried to pull him into bed as well, "you need to rest. I'm just gonna hang up our clothes, I'll be right back."
Roy sighed. "Very well," he said.
~♥~♥~♥~
By the time Jean had finished with their uniforms and slid into bed, spooning around Roy's warm body, Roy was fast asleep, one hand fisted in the covers, the other buried under his pillow. Jean smiled and pressed a kiss to his lover's shoulder, then closed his eyes and sighed, falling asleep to the familiar sound of Roy's gentle breathing, the steady beat of Roy's heart beneath his palm.
One step closer to home.