FMA Fic: "Just His Type" 1/1
Title: Just His Type
Author: evil_little_dog
Series: Any, really.
Word Count: 344
Rating: Crudity, so let’s go with Teen
Characters/Pairings: Mustang Tachi
Summary: Every man has a type.
Warnings: Men being men.
Disclaimer: Arakawa might approve of this. Maybe. Perhaps. But it’s still not mine.
fma_fic_contest prompt: “Type”
by m14mouse
X X X
“You’ve got a type.”
Havoc cocked an eyebrow, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Fuery glanced up from his desk. “What do you mean?”
“A type - you know, the kind of girl who can get your motor running.” Havoc grinned. “Vroom, vroom!”
“Don’t be crass,” Breda said, leaning back in his chair far enough to make the springs squeal.
“Crass?”
Falman raised a single finger. “Lacking sensitivity,” he said, “crude and unrefined.”
“That’s not me at all,” Havoc grumbled. “I’m not crass. I’ve got tons of class. I wouldn’t be able to get the girls if I didn’t.”
“What’s this got to do with a type?” Fuery asked, shoving his glasses up his nose.
“Oh, Havoc, he’s a boob man,” Breda said. “He wants a girl with big,” he cupped his hands and held them way out in front of his chest.
“Nothing wrong with a girl with some lung capacity.” Havoc tucked his cigarette behind his ear, smiling. “What about you, Fuery? What do you find attractive?”
Put on the spot, Fuery blinked a couple of times, then pulled his glasses off to polish them furiously. “I don’t know…I like smart girls, I guess.”
“Smart is sexy,” Breda agreed, and Falman nodded his approval.
“Yeah, I’ve seen Ed’s mechanic.” Havoc let out a low whistle. “They grow ‘em good out in the country.” He described an hourglass shape in the air. “And she’s smart, too, if she can do that automail stuff.” Winking at Fuery, he said, “So that’s your type? A girl like Fullmetal’s?”
“I guess…I haven’t seen her. But if she’s smart.” Fuery flushed, putting his glasses back on.
“She would be,” Falman said, “or extremely talented. She assisted with Edward’s surgery and made his automail when she was eleven.”
Breda let out a low, admiring whistle. “Gotta find a girl like that some day.”
Fuery glanced toward Mustang’s door. “What about the Colonel?” he asked. “What do you think his type is?”
Havoc snorted. “That’s easy, Fuery.” When the younger man turned his way, he grinned. “Breathing.”
X X X
Author: evil_little_dog
Series: Any, really.
Word Count: 344
Rating: Crudity, so let’s go with Teen
Characters/Pairings: Mustang Tachi
Summary: Every man has a type.
Warnings: Men being men.
Disclaimer: Arakawa might approve of this. Maybe. Perhaps. But it’s still not mine.
fma_fic_contest prompt: “Type”
by m14mouse
X X X
“You’ve got a type.”
Havoc cocked an eyebrow, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Fuery glanced up from his desk. “What do you mean?”
“A type - you know, the kind of girl who can get your motor running.” Havoc grinned. “Vroom, vroom!”
“Don’t be crass,” Breda said, leaning back in his chair far enough to make the springs squeal.
“Crass?”
Falman raised a single finger. “Lacking sensitivity,” he said, “crude and unrefined.”
“That’s not me at all,” Havoc grumbled. “I’m not crass. I’ve got tons of class. I wouldn’t be able to get the girls if I didn’t.”
“What’s this got to do with a type?” Fuery asked, shoving his glasses up his nose.
“Oh, Havoc, he’s a boob man,” Breda said. “He wants a girl with big,” he cupped his hands and held them way out in front of his chest.
“Nothing wrong with a girl with some lung capacity.” Havoc tucked his cigarette behind his ear, smiling. “What about you, Fuery? What do you find attractive?”
Put on the spot, Fuery blinked a couple of times, then pulled his glasses off to polish them furiously. “I don’t know…I like smart girls, I guess.”
“Smart is sexy,” Breda agreed, and Falman nodded his approval.
“Yeah, I’ve seen Ed’s mechanic.” Havoc let out a low whistle. “They grow ‘em good out in the country.” He described an hourglass shape in the air. “And she’s smart, too, if she can do that automail stuff.” Winking at Fuery, he said, “So that’s your type? A girl like Fullmetal’s?”
“I guess…I haven’t seen her. But if she’s smart.” Fuery flushed, putting his glasses back on.
“She would be,” Falman said, “or extremely talented. She assisted with Edward’s surgery and made his automail when she was eleven.”
Breda let out a low, admiring whistle. “Gotta find a girl like that some day.”
Fuery glanced toward Mustang’s door. “What about the Colonel?” he asked. “What do you think his type is?”
Havoc snorted. “That’s easy, Fuery.” When the younger man turned his way, he grinned. “Breathing.”
X X X