Ficcage!
Title: Engine Troubles 3: Office gossip/ Sleepover
Fandom Fullmetal Alchemist
PairingRoy/Havoc, eventually...
rating PG-13 for this chapter.
No warnings except for that it's my own little universe. post-series, most likely, Movie doesn't exist except for bits i like.
Part 1
Part 2
Office Gossip
"Weird. the bastard didn't even call me short."
"Edo-kun, Even if you are a civilian now, you should address him properly."
Ed turned and smiled up at the blond woman.
"Yes, Mama Riza... But the weirdness still stands."
"Hmm... He has been rather more listless than usual, lately. I shot right by his head and he barely even flinched." Riza's mouth flattened into a concerned line.
A quiet voiced piped up. "He needs to get laid." All eyes turned to Cain Fuery as the short man blushed furiously, eyes firmly planted on the papers in front of him. "Well, isn't it obvious? Sex is that man's life source. Like a plant without water."
Roy's blond adjutant shook her head disbelievingly. "That can't be it! Roy's had more dates in the last month than he's had... oohh..." She put a hand to her lips as realization dawned and next to her Fullmetal burst out laughing.
"That's perfect! Absolutely perfect! The old bastard is having a dry spell!" The guffaws subsided into muffled snerks and the former "People's Alchemist" quaked a little under the woman's unwavering gun. "Sorry, Riza. he's always been 'the bastard' to me. Old habits are hard to break."
"Hmm." She re-holstered the gun and resumed tapping her lips thoughtfully, arm supported by her other hand. "Nevertheless. We've been getting even less work than usual out of him. This situation must be rectified." She nodded decisively, sweeping the room with a namesake glance. " One night stands are clearly not the answer as they will inevitably lead to another funk such as this one."
Yet another blond stuck his head into the office, hastily doused cigarette still hanging off his lip. "Yo, boss. What was all the commotion about? You know if there's a good joke I want in on it."
Ed made a never-you-mind flapping motion with his automail hand while he wiped tears out of his eyes with the other. "It's nothing, it's nothing. Roy's just wilting, in Sgt. Fuery's words- from lack of sex. "
Blue eyes rolled as the second lieutenant snorted and headed back out for his interrupted smoke break. "Figures. Girlfriend stealing hack." floated down the hallway to the rest of the assembled staff.
"As i was saying. Our dear eye-patched superior needs a lasting relationship. Someone to challenge him out of his torpor." She smiled wickedly as she gestured at the doorway which Havoc had just vacated. "And i do believe i know just the person to do so."
Ed snapped off a sardonic salute, her smiled mirrored on his face and on those of his friends at their desks around the room. "Crazy, but it just might work. Al'll want in on this, too."
"Yours to command, Riza Ma'am" from Fuery.
"Seconded" laconically, from Breda, tucked into a corner.
Farman merely nodded and continued filling out paperwork.
"Excellent. Now. Here's what we need to do...."
So began the plot to jump-start Roy Mustang.
_*_*_*_
Meanwhile, in the office:
Roy stared at the ceiling, listening to the tell-tale rise and fall of conversation and plotting through his office door as he toyed with one of the figurines from his desk.
So. They'd finally noticed. He'd gone from merely frustrated and horny to frustrated, horny, and depressed. Even the collection of naughty doujin that Riza pretended he didn't have stashed in his desk wasn't doing anything but remind him that he was alone.
He was starting to get rather sick of himself, actually.
Ah, well. He'd play oblivious for now. Perhaps whatever his subordinates- his friends- came up with would distract him from the gentle chuckling he'd heard as he flipped through his doujin, or the phantom sheen of glasses that sparked at him every time he looked out the window.
And he'd have to have a technician come in and figure out where that mechanical shutter-clicking was coming from.
He threw the small pewter cannon at the wall and resumed staring blankly at the pile of papers in front of him.
_*_*_*_*_
Havoc blinked.
He was sitting on his superior's bed, staring at his duffle-bag where it lay on the floor.
A week's worth of clothes and toiletries and anything he didn't want smelling of noxious chemicals, sitting in a bag on the floor and mocking him.
Why was he in this awkward position again?
Ah yes. Some higher-up got all freaked out about a couple roaches in the dorms and ordered them fumigated...Guess mister fancy-pants doesn't remember his training days. Roaches were simply a part of barracks life.
For some reason all the others in the office had agreed with Riza when she had said it wasn't right to use his leave for something like this, "why don't you bunk with Roy?"
Their youngest officer was with Breda for the week, and Farman and Riza had their own apartments. It was just less hassle to live in the officers dormitories, really, except when they decided to pull stuff like this.
So yeah, he understood why he was in his commanding officer's house, staring at his dufflebag and wishing for a smoke.
What he still couldn't quite process was why his was sitting in his commanding officer's master bedroom, staring at his dufflebag and wishing for a smoke.
...And wearing his commanding officer's slightly too small purple pajamas, because he'd managed to forget to pack any.
Havoc remembered being shown to the guestroom, Mustang's smooth "This is where you'll be sleepi-" converted to a cry of dismay as he took in the wet sheets and leaves scattered everywhere, blown in through the open window during the previous week's storms. The smell of the fungus-inhabited sheets had made the blond man gag, even after years of smell-deadening cigarettes. He could hear the other man muttering about how he was sure he had closed that window, the last time he cleaned...
His dark haired superior had offered the couch, but the slick leather was hideously uncomfortable, and he was far too tall. As good as it was to see his commander and friend laughing again, Jean Havoc was no man's jester. It wasn't his fault his legs hung over the edge, the would-be Fuhrer had simply bought too small of a couch.
He had, nobly he thought, resisted the urge to smack the one-eyed man across the back of his head and accepted the offer of said man's master bedroom.
He hadn't expected to share it. Shouldv'e known he wouldn't play the gracious host and take his own horrible pretentious leather couch...
He blinked again as his reverie was interrupted by the sound of the adjoining bathroom's door closing and suddenly it wasn't his commanding officer's house he was staying in, it was Roy's. It was Roy's bed he would be sleeping in,the one that belonged to the fresh-from-the-shower adonis that was currently toweling off his hair, purple pajamas clinging to shower-moistened skin....
"I really, really need a smoke." Jean hurriedly grabbed his carton of cheap cigarettes and pushed past the all-too attractive man smirking at him, out through the living room and into the cool, calming, libido-suppressing night air.
This is going to be a bad night... a bad week... This was just an all out bad idea...
The harried sniper took a deep drag of a thin cigarette and ran a hand through his bangs.
This was a bad idea.
~To Be continued...~
As always, comments eternally luffled.
Fandom Fullmetal Alchemist
PairingRoy/Havoc, eventually...
rating PG-13 for this chapter.
No warnings except for that it's my own little universe. post-series, most likely, Movie doesn't exist except for bits i like.
Part 1
Part 2
Office Gossip
"Weird. the bastard didn't even call me short."
"Edo-kun, Even if you are a civilian now, you should address him properly."
Ed turned and smiled up at the blond woman.
"Yes, Mama Riza... But the weirdness still stands."
"Hmm... He has been rather more listless than usual, lately. I shot right by his head and he barely even flinched." Riza's mouth flattened into a concerned line.
A quiet voiced piped up. "He needs to get laid." All eyes turned to Cain Fuery as the short man blushed furiously, eyes firmly planted on the papers in front of him. "Well, isn't it obvious? Sex is that man's life source. Like a plant without water."
Roy's blond adjutant shook her head disbelievingly. "That can't be it! Roy's had more dates in the last month than he's had... oohh..." She put a hand to her lips as realization dawned and next to her Fullmetal burst out laughing.
"That's perfect! Absolutely perfect! The old bastard is having a dry spell!" The guffaws subsided into muffled snerks and the former "People's Alchemist" quaked a little under the woman's unwavering gun. "Sorry, Riza. he's always been 'the bastard' to me. Old habits are hard to break."
"Hmm." She re-holstered the gun and resumed tapping her lips thoughtfully, arm supported by her other hand. "Nevertheless. We've been getting even less work than usual out of him. This situation must be rectified." She nodded decisively, sweeping the room with a namesake glance. " One night stands are clearly not the answer as they will inevitably lead to another funk such as this one."
Yet another blond stuck his head into the office, hastily doused cigarette still hanging off his lip. "Yo, boss. What was all the commotion about? You know if there's a good joke I want in on it."
Ed made a never-you-mind flapping motion with his automail hand while he wiped tears out of his eyes with the other. "It's nothing, it's nothing. Roy's just wilting, in Sgt. Fuery's words- from lack of sex. "
Blue eyes rolled as the second lieutenant snorted and headed back out for his interrupted smoke break. "Figures. Girlfriend stealing hack." floated down the hallway to the rest of the assembled staff.
"As i was saying. Our dear eye-patched superior needs a lasting relationship. Someone to challenge him out of his torpor." She smiled wickedly as she gestured at the doorway which Havoc had just vacated. "And i do believe i know just the person to do so."
Ed snapped off a sardonic salute, her smiled mirrored on his face and on those of his friends at their desks around the room. "Crazy, but it just might work. Al'll want in on this, too."
"Yours to command, Riza Ma'am" from Fuery.
"Seconded" laconically, from Breda, tucked into a corner.
Farman merely nodded and continued filling out paperwork.
"Excellent. Now. Here's what we need to do...."
So began the plot to jump-start Roy Mustang.
_*_*_*_
Meanwhile, in the office:
Roy stared at the ceiling, listening to the tell-tale rise and fall of conversation and plotting through his office door as he toyed with one of the figurines from his desk.
So. They'd finally noticed. He'd gone from merely frustrated and horny to frustrated, horny, and depressed. Even the collection of naughty doujin that Riza pretended he didn't have stashed in his desk wasn't doing anything but remind him that he was alone.
He was starting to get rather sick of himself, actually.
Ah, well. He'd play oblivious for now. Perhaps whatever his subordinates- his friends- came up with would distract him from the gentle chuckling he'd heard as he flipped through his doujin, or the phantom sheen of glasses that sparked at him every time he looked out the window.
And he'd have to have a technician come in and figure out where that mechanical shutter-clicking was coming from.
He threw the small pewter cannon at the wall and resumed staring blankly at the pile of papers in front of him.
_*_*_*_*_
Havoc blinked.
He was sitting on his superior's bed, staring at his duffle-bag where it lay on the floor.
A week's worth of clothes and toiletries and anything he didn't want smelling of noxious chemicals, sitting in a bag on the floor and mocking him.
Why was he in this awkward position again?
Ah yes. Some higher-up got all freaked out about a couple roaches in the dorms and ordered them fumigated...Guess mister fancy-pants doesn't remember his training days. Roaches were simply a part of barracks life.
For some reason all the others in the office had agreed with Riza when she had said it wasn't right to use his leave for something like this, "why don't you bunk with Roy?"
Their youngest officer was with Breda for the week, and Farman and Riza had their own apartments. It was just less hassle to live in the officers dormitories, really, except when they decided to pull stuff like this.
So yeah, he understood why he was in his commanding officer's house, staring at his dufflebag and wishing for a smoke.
What he still couldn't quite process was why his was sitting in his commanding officer's master bedroom, staring at his dufflebag and wishing for a smoke.
...And wearing his commanding officer's slightly too small purple pajamas, because he'd managed to forget to pack any.
Havoc remembered being shown to the guestroom, Mustang's smooth "This is where you'll be sleepi-" converted to a cry of dismay as he took in the wet sheets and leaves scattered everywhere, blown in through the open window during the previous week's storms. The smell of the fungus-inhabited sheets had made the blond man gag, even after years of smell-deadening cigarettes. He could hear the other man muttering about how he was sure he had closed that window, the last time he cleaned...
His dark haired superior had offered the couch, but the slick leather was hideously uncomfortable, and he was far too tall. As good as it was to see his commander and friend laughing again, Jean Havoc was no man's jester. It wasn't his fault his legs hung over the edge, the would-be Fuhrer had simply bought too small of a couch.
He had, nobly he thought, resisted the urge to smack the one-eyed man across the back of his head and accepted the offer of said man's master bedroom.
He hadn't expected to share it. Shouldv'e known he wouldn't play the gracious host and take his own horrible pretentious leather couch...
He blinked again as his reverie was interrupted by the sound of the adjoining bathroom's door closing and suddenly it wasn't his commanding officer's house he was staying in, it was Roy's. It was Roy's bed he would be sleeping in,the one that belonged to the fresh-from-the-shower adonis that was currently toweling off his hair, purple pajamas clinging to shower-moistened skin....
"I really, really need a smoke." Jean hurriedly grabbed his carton of cheap cigarettes and pushed past the all-too attractive man smirking at him, out through the living room and into the cool, calming, libido-suppressing night air.
This is going to be a bad night... a bad week... This was just an all out bad idea...
The harried sniper took a deep drag of a thin cigarette and ran a hand through his bangs.
This was a bad idea.
~To Be continued...~
As always, comments eternally luffled.