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Happy Spank Havoc Day!
Happy Spank Havoc Day!
Art:
Title: How Not to Flirt
Characters: Roy and Havoc
Rated: G
It's an animation today! :D
(Also at deviantArt, if you want.)
Fic:
Title: Exercises
Characters: Havoc and Breda
Rated: PG-13
Word Count: 834
Notes: Very minor first anime spoilers. Standalone fic, but it can be a sort-of mini-sequel to Inspecting the Troops if you want. XD
“Weird thing happened to me today on the way down here,” Havoc said to Breda, after the two had headed into the locker rooms in the officer’s quarters to change into workout clothes. They usually put in a few hours training on Thursday evenings, to free up their Friday nights for bar crawling, and today was business as usual.
“Oh yeah?” Breda asked. He was already in his shorts and t-shirt, and was tugging on his ankle to stretch his hamstrings out before putting on his trainers.
“Yeah, it was really crazy.” Havoc, a few steps behind his friend after his earlier detour, stripped out of his jacket and uniform pants, reaching for the exercise clothes he kept in the bottom of his locker. “I was just having my cigarette, standing outside the building, minding my own business. And then, all of a sidden, I feel this… this feeling—”
“You felt a feeling, huh? Gripping stuff, there, Havo.” Breda smirked, lowering himself onto one of the benches to finish his stretching.
“Would you knock it off? This is important.” Havoc, now wearing his blue running shorts and nothing else, got momentary tangled up in his t-shirt as he aimed a half-hearted swipe of irritation down Breda’s way.
“Ease up; I’m sorry. Go on; what was this mysterious feeling you felt?”
“Smartass. But anyway, yeah, it was this feeling like someone was watching me. So I started checking the corners, but before I could look around behind me, someone walked up and just smacked the shit out of me.”
“Someone hit you?”
“On the ass,” he nodded, and smiled a bit as Breda chortled. “Flat-palmed, full-on smack to the ass. Like a naughty kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Really startled me. Cigarette fell out of my mouth and everything; nearly set my fucking boots on fire. So I was pretty pissed off; I mean, who the hell was I hurting, standing there? So I turned around to give whoever it was a piece of my mind.”
“So who was it?”
“That was the weird part.” Havoc sat down on the bench beside Breda and began to stuff his feet into his running shoes. “It was the Colonel.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Oh yeah. I’m serious. Really messed me up; he was the last person I expected. So I just stood there, staring at him.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, nothing at first… he just… y’know, smiled at me, like he does, like…” Havoc narrowed his eyes and raised his brows, pulling his lips into a thin, tight line in an imitation of Roy Mustang’s trademark smirk.
“Hey, that was pretty good,” Breda said admirably. “You do a damn good Colonel Mustang impression."
“Really? Huh, I’ll have to keep that in mind, might come in handy sometime… anyway, finaly I asked him why he’d breached protocol like that, and he—"
“You asked him that?”
“Well, I think what might actually have come out of my mouth was something like ‘what the hell are you slapping my ass around for, Sir, I’m not some goddamn pony’ but don’t split hairs. Anyway, then it got even weirder. He just clapped my shoulder, fucking winked his eye at me, and told me to have a good workout and make sure I don’t forget my squats and leg curls and then he lit me a new cigarette and went back inside. Isn’t that the damdest thing?”
“Pretty weird, all right. You almost ready? The new recruits’ll have cleared off the obstacle track if you want to start there.”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” Havoc hastily folded his uniform into the bottom of his locker, and walked quickly to catch up to Breda, throwing his arm behind him to stretch his shoulders.
“Pretty weird, though.” He reiterated, once they were outside, walking toward the empty training grounds. “Why do you think he did it?”
“I dunno,” Breda shrugged. “Maybe he likes you.”
“What, likes me? Like, he wants to fuck me or something, you mean?”
“Maybe.”
They stopped, looked at each other, and suddenly broke into wild, uncontrollable laughter. They had to grab at each other to keep from tumbling into the dust with the force of their guffaws.
“Oh man,” Havoc gasped, wiping tears away. “Yeah, that’s it. East City’s scourge of the singles scene, with a black book the size of a dictionary, with his desk so stuffed with love letters he can’t get his pens in the drawers and he want to fuck me. Ahahahaha…” He dissolved into fresh laughter.
“He’s probably just stressed,” Breda amended. “And you know what a weird sense of humor he has.”
“Yeah. Well, we gonna do this or what?”
They took off running, shoes pounding against the worn dirt path, Havoc pulling ahead and staying ahead almost immediately. He ran easily, happily, and completely oblivious to the pair of dark eyes peeking out around the blinds in a private office, their owner sighing in dreamy contentment, remembering the taunt feel of Havoc’s muscles against his palm as Havoc’s perfect legs ate up the track.
Art:
Title: How Not to Flirt
Characters: Roy and Havoc
Rated: G
It's an animation today! :D
(Also at deviantArt, if you want.)
Fic:
Title: Exercises
Characters: Havoc and Breda
Rated: PG-13
Word Count: 834
Notes: Very minor first anime spoilers. Standalone fic, but it can be a sort-of mini-sequel to Inspecting the Troops if you want. XD
“Weird thing happened to me today on the way down here,” Havoc said to Breda, after the two had headed into the locker rooms in the officer’s quarters to change into workout clothes. They usually put in a few hours training on Thursday evenings, to free up their Friday nights for bar crawling, and today was business as usual.
“Oh yeah?” Breda asked. He was already in his shorts and t-shirt, and was tugging on his ankle to stretch his hamstrings out before putting on his trainers.
“Yeah, it was really crazy.” Havoc, a few steps behind his friend after his earlier detour, stripped out of his jacket and uniform pants, reaching for the exercise clothes he kept in the bottom of his locker. “I was just having my cigarette, standing outside the building, minding my own business. And then, all of a sidden, I feel this… this feeling—”
“You felt a feeling, huh? Gripping stuff, there, Havo.” Breda smirked, lowering himself onto one of the benches to finish his stretching.
“Would you knock it off? This is important.” Havoc, now wearing his blue running shorts and nothing else, got momentary tangled up in his t-shirt as he aimed a half-hearted swipe of irritation down Breda’s way.
“Ease up; I’m sorry. Go on; what was this mysterious feeling you felt?”
“Smartass. But anyway, yeah, it was this feeling like someone was watching me. So I started checking the corners, but before I could look around behind me, someone walked up and just smacked the shit out of me.”
“Someone hit you?”
“On the ass,” he nodded, and smiled a bit as Breda chortled. “Flat-palmed, full-on smack to the ass. Like a naughty kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Really startled me. Cigarette fell out of my mouth and everything; nearly set my fucking boots on fire. So I was pretty pissed off; I mean, who the hell was I hurting, standing there? So I turned around to give whoever it was a piece of my mind.”
“So who was it?”
“That was the weird part.” Havoc sat down on the bench beside Breda and began to stuff his feet into his running shoes. “It was the Colonel.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Oh yeah. I’m serious. Really messed me up; he was the last person I expected. So I just stood there, staring at him.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, nothing at first… he just… y’know, smiled at me, like he does, like…” Havoc narrowed his eyes and raised his brows, pulling his lips into a thin, tight line in an imitation of Roy Mustang’s trademark smirk.
“Hey, that was pretty good,” Breda said admirably. “You do a damn good Colonel Mustang impression."
“Really? Huh, I’ll have to keep that in mind, might come in handy sometime… anyway, finaly I asked him why he’d breached protocol like that, and he—"
“You asked him that?”
“Well, I think what might actually have come out of my mouth was something like ‘what the hell are you slapping my ass around for, Sir, I’m not some goddamn pony’ but don’t split hairs. Anyway, then it got even weirder. He just clapped my shoulder, fucking winked his eye at me, and told me to have a good workout and make sure I don’t forget my squats and leg curls and then he lit me a new cigarette and went back inside. Isn’t that the damdest thing?”
“Pretty weird, all right. You almost ready? The new recruits’ll have cleared off the obstacle track if you want to start there.”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” Havoc hastily folded his uniform into the bottom of his locker, and walked quickly to catch up to Breda, throwing his arm behind him to stretch his shoulders.
“Pretty weird, though.” He reiterated, once they were outside, walking toward the empty training grounds. “Why do you think he did it?”
“I dunno,” Breda shrugged. “Maybe he likes you.”
“What, likes me? Like, he wants to fuck me or something, you mean?”
“Maybe.”
They stopped, looked at each other, and suddenly broke into wild, uncontrollable laughter. They had to grab at each other to keep from tumbling into the dust with the force of their guffaws.
“Oh man,” Havoc gasped, wiping tears away. “Yeah, that’s it. East City’s scourge of the singles scene, with a black book the size of a dictionary, with his desk so stuffed with love letters he can’t get his pens in the drawers and he want to fuck me. Ahahahaha…” He dissolved into fresh laughter.
“He’s probably just stressed,” Breda amended. “And you know what a weird sense of humor he has.”
“Yeah. Well, we gonna do this or what?”
They took off running, shoes pounding against the worn dirt path, Havoc pulling ahead and staying ahead almost immediately. He ran easily, happily, and completely oblivious to the pair of dark eyes peeking out around the blinds in a private office, their owner sighing in dreamy contentment, remembering the taunt feel of Havoc’s muscles against his palm as Havoc’s perfect legs ate up the track.