Jean/Roy/Riza for 30threesomes [theme #5; emperor]
Title: Counterbalance [theme # 5; emperor]
Author: galuxkitty
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye (Roy as pivot)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1200
Warnings: Episode 51 spoilers.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the rightful property of Hiromu Arakawa. This is a fanwork written purely for both your entertainment and mine.
This bunny came out of nowhere. The next thing I’ll be working my butt off to finish is my Havoc essay, and then my collaboration with Raj. Don’t know why I felt the need to write something containing Royai elements after all this time, but it was a nice change... either way, it’ll soon be back to Roy/Jean... god, that sounds bitchy, I’m not really coherent at the moment. Read and enjoy.
Although Colonel Roy Mustang had barely been in the hospital for a week, his patience was already wearing thin. Without the constant hustle and bustle of the office his days seemed to be crawling past weakly, and he was positive that the clock often ticked backwards a few seconds when he looked away. It was amazing these days how easily his days were being reduced to a frustrating tedium. The lightest parts of his day came in the early mornings and very late evenings when Havoc and Hawkeye would visit and bring their own uniqueness into the dull days mostly spend rereading old alchemy notes for the sake of keeping his mind active.
His mind often wandered to his subordinates, and especially Hawkeye and Havoc with whom he shared something far past the relationship of military formality. Both of them knew of the other, and neither of them cared, nor complained when he insisted on keeping them separate; Mustang far preferred to see them individually, and for their own charms and quirks and for all the things he loved about them both.
In the early morning, just after the nurse had come into his room to force more foul medicine down his throat to help him heal, Hawkeye would appear at his door, in full uniform and looking as superbly pristine as he had come to expect from years of her being in his service. Without a word, Hawkeye would take her place at the small wooden chair next to his bed, retrieve a small silver knife that her grandfather had given her years ago, and start peeling an apple for his breakfast. She had no free time to prepare him anything else, but the fresh, sweet flesh of the apple was heaven compared to the stale hospital food. Only once had she ever nicked her finger or done anything but a fine job of peeling the fruit; that day, a nurse who was apparently quite smitten with him had cheerfully stuck her head around the door to wish him a good morning, and this single momentary distraction had been enough for Riza to lose concentration and leave a thin, perfect scarlet line across the pad of her thumb.
In the late evening, the smell of a last cigarette smoked before entering the hospital preceded Havoc’s physical entry into the room. Havoc would always knock before he came in, unlike Hawkeye who entered with supreme trust and confidence, but Roy never cared because the little quirks and differences between them was what made his relationships with both of them special. Havoc would bring tinned soup, pre-made and kept in a plastic container for Roy’s evening meal (and tried his honest best not to buy something totally repugnant) and sugar cookies baked by his mother for dessert. This was the extent of Havoc's culinary skills, and Roy never complained even if Havoc did forget that he resented potato and leek soup; the tin of cookies sent fresh from being baked by Havoc’s mother in the east was more than enough to make up for the stale taste of store-bought soup, as was Havoc’s cheerful disposition and casual chatter.
He talked to both of them about different things; he and Hawkeye chatted quietly about where they would go from here, how things would work, how they planned to make their next move and to Roy it was if he was once again plotting brilliant strategies against an enemy, like a game of chess. Havoc would tell him everything that was happening in the office; that Breda had once again been frightened by Black Hayate tugging on his pants, that Fuery had found a kitten outside Headquarters and found it a home with one of the secretarial staff, that Falman had dutifully identified both animals scientifically.
They both had their different ways of showing they cared to him; Hawkeye sliced the apple carefully and pressed it against his lips with slim fingertips, shivering when his dry lips brushed against her skin, certainly by no error of his. Warm brown eyes met his, and she would give him the small, appreciative smile he yearned to see from her every day. And this means of silent communication and care worked just fine for them. Havoc was the opposite; the openly affectionate one who needed to hear and feel and see affection like he needed oxygen. After he’d finished feeding his Colonel, grinning as the older man flicked his tongue between his fingers to search for leftover crumb, Havoc would rest his cheek gently against Roy’s uninjured arm and the older man would let him, fingers stroking through rough blond hair affectionately, and this was what worked for them.
Good things ended all too soon for both of them, and both of Roy’s lovers were determined to say goodbye properly despite being short of time, and the risk of fraternization being shown clear as day to anyone who may be watching. At first Roy had tried to stop them, and only then had he truly come to terms with how terrified both of them had been of losing him.
Hawkeye always kissed like it was the last they would ever share together; softly, slowly, but in no way short of passion. When she kissed him, she always breathed slowly and moved against him like liquid velvet, gently and carefully and with such supreme elegance that his heart always skipped a beat when he felt her slim form press against him and keep him sacred; Roy never minded expending the extra silence and reverence and careful affection that was lost to his relationship with Havoc. Havoc always seemed like he never wanted to say goodbye, always found time to kiss him or hold him one more time as the blond pressed his face against Roy’s neck and held him close. Havoc constantly wanted physical contact, constantly wanted to be held and appreciated and to feel like he was wanted, and Roy never minded sparing extra physical affection, and love, and playful love that made his relationship unique from the one he held with Hawkeye, and he cherished this difference between them every time he felt Hawkeye’s soft breath against his lips as they parted briefly, and every time he pressed his lips against Havoc’s hair and held the younger man so close.
Both of them eventually rose to leave as subordinates after they had farewelled Roy as their lover, and Hawkeye would salute and smile so warmly, and look superbly professional and beautiful in her uniform, golden hair shining in the early morning sun.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Colonel.”
Havoc would grin and snap a quick salute while looking at Roy with affectionate blue eyes that seemed to be filled with unimaginable amounts of respect and love.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night, Boss.”
After they had both left, Roy would settle back gently against his pillow and smile contentedly, going back to his alchemy notes, mind wandering to both of his lovers in turn.
Jean Havoc and Riza Hawkeye; his most loyal subordinates, his only and most valued lovers above all else. With their love for him, his existence day to day remained justified.
END
Comments?
Author: galuxkitty
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye (Roy as pivot)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1200
Warnings: Episode 51 spoilers.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the rightful property of Hiromu Arakawa. This is a fanwork written purely for both your entertainment and mine.
This bunny came out of nowhere. The next thing I’ll be working my butt off to finish is my Havoc essay, and then my collaboration with Raj. Don’t know why I felt the need to write something containing Royai elements after all this time, but it was a nice change... either way, it’ll soon be back to Roy/Jean... god, that sounds bitchy, I’m not really coherent at the moment. Read and enjoy.
Although Colonel Roy Mustang had barely been in the hospital for a week, his patience was already wearing thin. Without the constant hustle and bustle of the office his days seemed to be crawling past weakly, and he was positive that the clock often ticked backwards a few seconds when he looked away. It was amazing these days how easily his days were being reduced to a frustrating tedium. The lightest parts of his day came in the early mornings and very late evenings when Havoc and Hawkeye would visit and bring their own uniqueness into the dull days mostly spend rereading old alchemy notes for the sake of keeping his mind active.
His mind often wandered to his subordinates, and especially Hawkeye and Havoc with whom he shared something far past the relationship of military formality. Both of them knew of the other, and neither of them cared, nor complained when he insisted on keeping them separate; Mustang far preferred to see them individually, and for their own charms and quirks and for all the things he loved about them both.
In the early morning, just after the nurse had come into his room to force more foul medicine down his throat to help him heal, Hawkeye would appear at his door, in full uniform and looking as superbly pristine as he had come to expect from years of her being in his service. Without a word, Hawkeye would take her place at the small wooden chair next to his bed, retrieve a small silver knife that her grandfather had given her years ago, and start peeling an apple for his breakfast. She had no free time to prepare him anything else, but the fresh, sweet flesh of the apple was heaven compared to the stale hospital food. Only once had she ever nicked her finger or done anything but a fine job of peeling the fruit; that day, a nurse who was apparently quite smitten with him had cheerfully stuck her head around the door to wish him a good morning, and this single momentary distraction had been enough for Riza to lose concentration and leave a thin, perfect scarlet line across the pad of her thumb.
In the late evening, the smell of a last cigarette smoked before entering the hospital preceded Havoc’s physical entry into the room. Havoc would always knock before he came in, unlike Hawkeye who entered with supreme trust and confidence, but Roy never cared because the little quirks and differences between them was what made his relationships with both of them special. Havoc would bring tinned soup, pre-made and kept in a plastic container for Roy’s evening meal (and tried his honest best not to buy something totally repugnant) and sugar cookies baked by his mother for dessert. This was the extent of Havoc's culinary skills, and Roy never complained even if Havoc did forget that he resented potato and leek soup; the tin of cookies sent fresh from being baked by Havoc’s mother in the east was more than enough to make up for the stale taste of store-bought soup, as was Havoc’s cheerful disposition and casual chatter.
He talked to both of them about different things; he and Hawkeye chatted quietly about where they would go from here, how things would work, how they planned to make their next move and to Roy it was if he was once again plotting brilliant strategies against an enemy, like a game of chess. Havoc would tell him everything that was happening in the office; that Breda had once again been frightened by Black Hayate tugging on his pants, that Fuery had found a kitten outside Headquarters and found it a home with one of the secretarial staff, that Falman had dutifully identified both animals scientifically.
They both had their different ways of showing they cared to him; Hawkeye sliced the apple carefully and pressed it against his lips with slim fingertips, shivering when his dry lips brushed against her skin, certainly by no error of his. Warm brown eyes met his, and she would give him the small, appreciative smile he yearned to see from her every day. And this means of silent communication and care worked just fine for them. Havoc was the opposite; the openly affectionate one who needed to hear and feel and see affection like he needed oxygen. After he’d finished feeding his Colonel, grinning as the older man flicked his tongue between his fingers to search for leftover crumb, Havoc would rest his cheek gently against Roy’s uninjured arm and the older man would let him, fingers stroking through rough blond hair affectionately, and this was what worked for them.
Good things ended all too soon for both of them, and both of Roy’s lovers were determined to say goodbye properly despite being short of time, and the risk of fraternization being shown clear as day to anyone who may be watching. At first Roy had tried to stop them, and only then had he truly come to terms with how terrified both of them had been of losing him.
Hawkeye always kissed like it was the last they would ever share together; softly, slowly, but in no way short of passion. When she kissed him, she always breathed slowly and moved against him like liquid velvet, gently and carefully and with such supreme elegance that his heart always skipped a beat when he felt her slim form press against him and keep him sacred; Roy never minded expending the extra silence and reverence and careful affection that was lost to his relationship with Havoc. Havoc always seemed like he never wanted to say goodbye, always found time to kiss him or hold him one more time as the blond pressed his face against Roy’s neck and held him close. Havoc constantly wanted physical contact, constantly wanted to be held and appreciated and to feel like he was wanted, and Roy never minded sparing extra physical affection, and love, and playful love that made his relationship unique from the one he held with Hawkeye, and he cherished this difference between them every time he felt Hawkeye’s soft breath against his lips as they parted briefly, and every time he pressed his lips against Havoc’s hair and held the younger man so close.
Both of them eventually rose to leave as subordinates after they had farewelled Roy as their lover, and Hawkeye would salute and smile so warmly, and look superbly professional and beautiful in her uniform, golden hair shining in the early morning sun.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Colonel.”
Havoc would grin and snap a quick salute while looking at Roy with affectionate blue eyes that seemed to be filled with unimaginable amounts of respect and love.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night, Boss.”
After they had both left, Roy would settle back gently against his pillow and smile contentedly, going back to his alchemy notes, mind wandering to both of his lovers in turn.
Jean Havoc and Riza Hawkeye; his most loyal subordinates, his only and most valued lovers above all else. With their love for him, his existence day to day remained justified.
END
Comments?