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rajTitle: Fortune's Fool (Epilogue to the "Strange Bedfellows" arc)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raja815
Characters/Fandom: Heymans Breda + Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 732
Warnings Some minor language
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes:The epilogue to the three-part Strange Bedfellows arc, set the next morning after A Nipping and an Eager Air. Title is derived from a quote from William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Enjoy!
Breda’s first morning of working at Central Headquarters hadn’t been off to the best start. His uniforms had come out of their packing carton wrinkled beyond any recognition, which lead to a quick burst of ironing, which in turn lead to a semi-serious burn on his forearm. He’d yet to find a good local bakery for breakfast, so he’d ended up grabbing a stale bagel from the mess hall, along with a cup of coffee so acidic he could practically feel it dissolving his throat. He only managed two gulps of it before he tossed it away in disgust.
You’d think, he mused bitterly to himself over a towering stack of files he was meant to be sorting, after a morning like that a man could get a little sympathy, but it seemed in short supply. Havoc had come in looking annoyingly chipper; much more so than anyone had the right to be on a work day, and when Breda had clapped his shoulder and asked if he’s finally managed to get a full night’s sleep, his old friend had made a sputtery sound and almost swallowed the unlit cigarette he was chewing on. And when Breda sat down to sort the files, hoping for an opportunity to talk, Havoc remained standing. This made conversation difficult, but when Breda called him on it (“Sit down, Havo, and stay awhile!”) Havoc made that weird noise again and insisted that standing made the task easier.
But despite the occasional sputtery noise, Havoc’s spirits couldn’t have been higher, and in his current mood it was not something Breda appreciated. So he’d been downright glad when the Colonel had come over and ordered Havoc to help him unpack some of their things in one of the storage warehouses. Havoc had responded, “yes, Sir,” and followed the Colonel out of the room. Just as they exited, Breda saw Havoc smile at Mustang as though he was actually pleased to be recruited for the unpleasant task.
Breda sighed and went back to his sorting. Even if Havoc’s sudden cheeriness was annoying, it was better than the sleepy funk he’d spent the last two days in.
Still, Breda thought a few minutes later, mouth twitching in slight amusement, it’s a pretty damn miraculous turnabout. Haven’t seen him this happy in months on end! Not since the last time he actually managed to get himself la—
Breda stopped, file in hand halfway to its proper stack. He sat for a moment, not moving. Then abruptly his eyes widened
Not since the last time he actually managed to get himself laid.
His brow furrowed. Havo had started acting funny after his night in the hotel…
His night in the hotel with the Colonel.
And the weirdness had continued all through the train ride, but even more so after Havo had disappeared for a half hour…
With the Colonel.
And he’d turned down checking out some of the bars in the area the night before in favor of moving furniture… with the Colonel. And today he came in all cheery and refusing to sit down and was now out unpacking boxes in a deserted warehouse for much longer than the simple task required.
With the Colonel.
“…Oh.” He said, the high, surprised sound of his own voice a shock. “Well…” He put the file down and wondered how the hell it had taken him as long as it had to work it out.
***
His suspicions were confirmed (as if they needed confirming, ha) when Havoc and Mustang reentered the office a half-hour later, looking rumpled and sweaty and… satisfied.
He was watching for it now, so it was impossible to miss: they walked in as always, Havoc a few steps behind with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, Mustang with his characteristic smirk… but at the door there was a quick smile, and just the tiniest brush of white glove over Havoc’s sleeve, and as Mustang crossed the room to his desk, Havoc’s eyes rested on him just a little too long.
“Sure hope you know what you’re doing, Havo,” he murmured, as Havoc took Breda’s still-undrunk cup of coffee from the desk.
“What was that?” He asked, and took a long gulp.
Breda grinned and leaned in close. “So he’s as good as all your ex-girlfriends said he was?”
Havoc choked and spit coffee all over his face.
THE END
Well, that's the end of the arc. ^_^ I may eventually call back to it in a fic down the road, but as for the official Strange Bedfellows storyline, this is the end. Thanks to everyone who read and commented; it was so great to get so much support and feedback. You all spoil me, you really do. <3 So. love all around... until next time. :D
Author:
raja815Characters/Fandom: Heymans Breda + Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 732
Warnings Some minor language
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes:The epilogue to the three-part Strange Bedfellows arc, set the next morning after A Nipping and an Eager Air. Title is derived from a quote from William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Enjoy!
Breda’s first morning of working at Central Headquarters hadn’t been off to the best start. His uniforms had come out of their packing carton wrinkled beyond any recognition, which lead to a quick burst of ironing, which in turn lead to a semi-serious burn on his forearm. He’d yet to find a good local bakery for breakfast, so he’d ended up grabbing a stale bagel from the mess hall, along with a cup of coffee so acidic he could practically feel it dissolving his throat. He only managed two gulps of it before he tossed it away in disgust.
You’d think, he mused bitterly to himself over a towering stack of files he was meant to be sorting, after a morning like that a man could get a little sympathy, but it seemed in short supply. Havoc had come in looking annoyingly chipper; much more so than anyone had the right to be on a work day, and when Breda had clapped his shoulder and asked if he’s finally managed to get a full night’s sleep, his old friend had made a sputtery sound and almost swallowed the unlit cigarette he was chewing on. And when Breda sat down to sort the files, hoping for an opportunity to talk, Havoc remained standing. This made conversation difficult, but when Breda called him on it (“Sit down, Havo, and stay awhile!”) Havoc made that weird noise again and insisted that standing made the task easier.
But despite the occasional sputtery noise, Havoc’s spirits couldn’t have been higher, and in his current mood it was not something Breda appreciated. So he’d been downright glad when the Colonel had come over and ordered Havoc to help him unpack some of their things in one of the storage warehouses. Havoc had responded, “yes, Sir,” and followed the Colonel out of the room. Just as they exited, Breda saw Havoc smile at Mustang as though he was actually pleased to be recruited for the unpleasant task.
Breda sighed and went back to his sorting. Even if Havoc’s sudden cheeriness was annoying, it was better than the sleepy funk he’d spent the last two days in.
Still, Breda thought a few minutes later, mouth twitching in slight amusement, it’s a pretty damn miraculous turnabout. Haven’t seen him this happy in months on end! Not since the last time he actually managed to get himself la—
Breda stopped, file in hand halfway to its proper stack. He sat for a moment, not moving. Then abruptly his eyes widened
Not since the last time he actually managed to get himself laid.
His brow furrowed. Havo had started acting funny after his night in the hotel…
His night in the hotel with the Colonel.
And the weirdness had continued all through the train ride, but even more so after Havo had disappeared for a half hour…
With the Colonel.
And he’d turned down checking out some of the bars in the area the night before in favor of moving furniture… with the Colonel. And today he came in all cheery and refusing to sit down and was now out unpacking boxes in a deserted warehouse for much longer than the simple task required.
With the Colonel.
“…Oh.” He said, the high, surprised sound of his own voice a shock. “Well…” He put the file down and wondered how the hell it had taken him as long as it had to work it out.
His suspicions were confirmed (as if they needed confirming, ha) when Havoc and Mustang reentered the office a half-hour later, looking rumpled and sweaty and… satisfied.
He was watching for it now, so it was impossible to miss: they walked in as always, Havoc a few steps behind with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, Mustang with his characteristic smirk… but at the door there was a quick smile, and just the tiniest brush of white glove over Havoc’s sleeve, and as Mustang crossed the room to his desk, Havoc’s eyes rested on him just a little too long.
“Sure hope you know what you’re doing, Havo,” he murmured, as Havoc took Breda’s still-undrunk cup of coffee from the desk.
“What was that?” He asked, and took a long gulp.
Breda grinned and leaned in close. “So he’s as good as all your ex-girlfriends said he was?”
Havoc choked and spit coffee all over his face.
Well, that's the end of the arc. ^_^ I may eventually call back to it in a fic down the road, but as for the official Strange Bedfellows storyline, this is the end. Thanks to everyone who read and commented; it was so great to get so much support and feedback. You all spoil me, you really do. <3 So. love all around... until next time. :D
