Fic - "Full Circle"
May. 21st, 2007 05:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rajTitle: Full Circle
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raja815
Characters/Fandom: Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1350
Warnings Fluff. Minor mentions of injury.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ficalbum, for my claim of Aerosmith's Nine Lives album, for the song "Full Circle." See lyrics here. Meant to be set in the manga timeline. Contains no outright spoilers, but does serve as forshadowing to a degree for events in chapters 38-44, and is titled with that idea in mind.
At the sound of the door’s soft creak and the muffled, heavy footsteps on the thick carpet in the entryway, Roy put down his brandy snifter, shut the thick book on alternative alchemic technique he’d been glancing at, and stood. He left his comfortable place on his study’s sofa and passed the ancient wall clock, its hands resting at just past two in the morning, on his way to meet his lover in the front room.
Jean stood beside the dining table, carefully removing the shoulder holster from his back, wincing a bit as he worked the stubborn catches. His breathing was slow and labored, eyelids drooping low with exhaustion. The black special op clothes didn’t show dirt, but his face was streaked with dusty sweat, and his hands and hair were thick with grime. Whatever the mission had been, it hadn’t been an easy one.
At the sound of Roy’s footstep, faint as it was with his feet bare, Jean looked up, and despite the exhaustion in his eyes a smile spread across his face.
“What are you doing up?” Though his voice was harsh with exhaustion, the tone was as gentle as ever. “Got so used to your personal bed warmer you can’t sleep without me?”
“Something like that,” Roy smiled, as Jean finally laid the holster and the two handguns on the table and began to walk toward him. Roy’s brow furrowed at the obvious limp in Havoc’s stride, and he moved toward him to spare him the effort of walking. “Did it go badly?”
“All right. Good as it could’ve, I guess.” He sighed as Roy reached him, and wrapped his arms around his Colonel. “But let me tell you, I’d rather work for you any day.”
Roy smiled and kissed Jean’s neck, despite the grit of dirt against his lips. He didn’t know where his Lieutenant’s special mission orders had come from, since whatever higher up had issued them also ordered secrecy, and he wasn’t foolish enough to risk both their positions by prying if Havoc didn’t think it was important he knew it. And if it had been important, Havoc would have hinted as much. “I’m glad to hear it, Lieutenant.”
“Glad to say it,” Jean yawned, and rested his head on Roy’s shoulder. Roy’s smile widened, and he kissed Jean again, taking in the smell of sweat and dirt and gunpowder as he breathed.
“You look like hell,” Roy murmured, reaching around to stroke the spot on Jean’s back that was always sore after a long stint in the holster.
“Sorry,” he yawned again, and relaxed against Roy’s fingers. “You know, you really didn’t need to wait up for me… no sense in both of us being zombies at work tomorrow.”
Roy didn’t reply, except to squeeze Jean a little tighter. “You were limping.” He mumbled a few seconds later.
“Oh, that? It’s nothing.” He pulled away and extended his right leg for Roy’s inspection, and Roy wondered how it had escaped his notice. Probably it was because the mostly dried blood masked the five long rips in the fabric that started just above his knee and stretched halfway up his thigh.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Jean responded to Roy’s unspoken question. “Just didn’t quite clear a razor wire fence on the way out. Fucking careless of me—”
“Why didn’t you field dress it?” Roy said, a bit harshly, and laced an arm around Jean to lead him to the kitchen. Havoc grinned and patted his Colonel’s shoulder.
“Aw, but you always do it so much better.” He let himself be seated in one of the chairs and drained the glass of brandy Roy poured for him. “It was on the way out, not really time for anything but hiding the evidence and getting out. Kinda forgot about it, t’tell you the truth… mind if I smoke while you do this?”
Roy, who had been assembling bandages from the box atop the refrigerator, sighed and reached for the pack Jean kept directly next to it. He tossed a single cigarette to Jean, pulled a glove out of his own bathrobe pocket, and lit it for him.
“You’re so handy,” Jean laughed sleepily, and leaned back as Roy knelt to undo his bootlaces. “You don’t have to do that, I can do—”
“How is it you keep talking even with one of those things stuck in your mouth?” Roy said, and proceeded as he’d been doing, sliding off first Havoc’s boots, then his belt and pants, peeling them carefully away from the dried blood on his skin.
“Guess that about does it for these pants,” Havoc said, gritting his teeth around his cigarette and smiling to mask the wince of pain. He poked a hand idly in and out of one of the gashes in the cloth as Roy started in on the five long slashes in Jean’s leg with one of the kitchen towels.
When it was clean he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over the half-inch of unmarked skin between the gashes. “You’re going to have to get these stitched up tomorrow,” he remarked idly.
“I know,” Jean sighed, and ground out his cigarette in a small ashtray. “Fucking inconvenience… guess I should consider myself lucky it was just my leg and I didn’t leave one of my balls on top of that goddamn fence.”
“Lucky indeed,” Roy replied, patting the articles under discussion through Jean’s boxers before proceeding with his disinfecting and bandaging. Jean smiled, leaning back and closing his eyes. When Roy finished, he had to tap him out of a light doze.
“Feel okay?” Roy asked, and Jean wiggled his toes a bit.
“Perfect,” he grinned around a gigantic yawn, and pulled Roy in for a sleepy hug.
Roy patted his arm. “Well, it’ll do until you can get it properly attended to at the clinic tomorrow.”
“Feels much better,” Jean mumbled, head drooping forward onto Roy’s shoulder. “Nice that I have you to… here to…” He yawned again. “Fix me up whenever I get… damaged…” He sighed, a long, deep breath with just a hint of throaty snore. Roy smiled.
“Planning on sleeping here all night, Lieutenant?”
“Mmmkay,” Jean murmured, and Roy laughed and pulled him to his feet.
“You’d wake up with a backache. Come on, lean on me.”
They walked in an awkward, stumbling way, Jean half-balanced on his good leg with an arm draped over Roy’s shoulder, toward their bed. When they reached it, as Roy draped his robe on the hook in the closet door, Jean pulled off his shirt and tossed it in the general direction of the hamper. Then he frowned, looking first at the noticeable lines of sweat and dirt where his shirtsleeves had ended, and then at the freshly washed sheets on the bed.
“Maybe I should take a shower first…” He mumbled, teetering a bit on his feet.
Roy kissed his shoulder. “Tomorrow.”
Jean smiled, eyes closing. “ ‘Kay. Tomorrow,” he whispered, and let Roy situate him in bed, cover him with the duvet, and curl up behind him, wrapping his arms around Jean’s back and kissing his neck, despite the dirt.
“Hope I never have to do one of those again,” Jean mumbled, reaching over to squeeze Roy’s hand.
“Was it that bad?”
There was a short pause, and Havoc shrugged. “I meant it when I said I’d rather work for you any day. Even if you’ve got me digging through a sewer for a wanted criminal’s body...”
“Sorry about that.”
Jean laughed, a short chortle that turned into a yawn. “At least you’re always there to patch me up. Not gonna leave me bleeding half to death on a bunch of chunks of razor…”
“Never.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Always.”
For a few seconds it was silent, Jean’s breath growing slower and more even, throaty and soft. Roy kissed him, squeezed him tight, and whispered into his ear, not really expecting an answer.
“Jean? Follow me?”
But he got one all the same.
“Anywhere…” Jean whispered, and slept.
* * *
That's all for now. Thank God I finally managed to write something again.
Side note: original plotbunny came from noticing that a full section of the razorwire fence around the municipal airport in my hometown was on backwards, making it easy to break both in and out again if you wanted to. XD
Author:
raja815Characters/Fandom: Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1350
Warnings Fluff. Minor mentions of injury.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Written for
ficalbum, for my claim of Aerosmith's Nine Lives album, for the song "Full Circle." See lyrics here. Meant to be set in the manga timeline. Contains no outright spoilers, but does serve as forshadowing to a degree for events in chapters 38-44, and is titled with that idea in mind.At the sound of the door’s soft creak and the muffled, heavy footsteps on the thick carpet in the entryway, Roy put down his brandy snifter, shut the thick book on alternative alchemic technique he’d been glancing at, and stood. He left his comfortable place on his study’s sofa and passed the ancient wall clock, its hands resting at just past two in the morning, on his way to meet his lover in the front room.
Jean stood beside the dining table, carefully removing the shoulder holster from his back, wincing a bit as he worked the stubborn catches. His breathing was slow and labored, eyelids drooping low with exhaustion. The black special op clothes didn’t show dirt, but his face was streaked with dusty sweat, and his hands and hair were thick with grime. Whatever the mission had been, it hadn’t been an easy one.
At the sound of Roy’s footstep, faint as it was with his feet bare, Jean looked up, and despite the exhaustion in his eyes a smile spread across his face.
“What are you doing up?” Though his voice was harsh with exhaustion, the tone was as gentle as ever. “Got so used to your personal bed warmer you can’t sleep without me?”
“Something like that,” Roy smiled, as Jean finally laid the holster and the two handguns on the table and began to walk toward him. Roy’s brow furrowed at the obvious limp in Havoc’s stride, and he moved toward him to spare him the effort of walking. “Did it go badly?”
“All right. Good as it could’ve, I guess.” He sighed as Roy reached him, and wrapped his arms around his Colonel. “But let me tell you, I’d rather work for you any day.”
Roy smiled and kissed Jean’s neck, despite the grit of dirt against his lips. He didn’t know where his Lieutenant’s special mission orders had come from, since whatever higher up had issued them also ordered secrecy, and he wasn’t foolish enough to risk both their positions by prying if Havoc didn’t think it was important he knew it. And if it had been important, Havoc would have hinted as much. “I’m glad to hear it, Lieutenant.”
“Glad to say it,” Jean yawned, and rested his head on Roy’s shoulder. Roy’s smile widened, and he kissed Jean again, taking in the smell of sweat and dirt and gunpowder as he breathed.
“You look like hell,” Roy murmured, reaching around to stroke the spot on Jean’s back that was always sore after a long stint in the holster.
“Sorry,” he yawned again, and relaxed against Roy’s fingers. “You know, you really didn’t need to wait up for me… no sense in both of us being zombies at work tomorrow.”
Roy didn’t reply, except to squeeze Jean a little tighter. “You were limping.” He mumbled a few seconds later.
“Oh, that? It’s nothing.” He pulled away and extended his right leg for Roy’s inspection, and Roy wondered how it had escaped his notice. Probably it was because the mostly dried blood masked the five long rips in the fabric that started just above his knee and stretched halfway up his thigh.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Jean responded to Roy’s unspoken question. “Just didn’t quite clear a razor wire fence on the way out. Fucking careless of me—”
“Why didn’t you field dress it?” Roy said, a bit harshly, and laced an arm around Jean to lead him to the kitchen. Havoc grinned and patted his Colonel’s shoulder.
“Aw, but you always do it so much better.” He let himself be seated in one of the chairs and drained the glass of brandy Roy poured for him. “It was on the way out, not really time for anything but hiding the evidence and getting out. Kinda forgot about it, t’tell you the truth… mind if I smoke while you do this?”
Roy, who had been assembling bandages from the box atop the refrigerator, sighed and reached for the pack Jean kept directly next to it. He tossed a single cigarette to Jean, pulled a glove out of his own bathrobe pocket, and lit it for him.
“You’re so handy,” Jean laughed sleepily, and leaned back as Roy knelt to undo his bootlaces. “You don’t have to do that, I can do—”
“How is it you keep talking even with one of those things stuck in your mouth?” Roy said, and proceeded as he’d been doing, sliding off first Havoc’s boots, then his belt and pants, peeling them carefully away from the dried blood on his skin.
“Guess that about does it for these pants,” Havoc said, gritting his teeth around his cigarette and smiling to mask the wince of pain. He poked a hand idly in and out of one of the gashes in the cloth as Roy started in on the five long slashes in Jean’s leg with one of the kitchen towels.
When it was clean he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over the half-inch of unmarked skin between the gashes. “You’re going to have to get these stitched up tomorrow,” he remarked idly.
“I know,” Jean sighed, and ground out his cigarette in a small ashtray. “Fucking inconvenience… guess I should consider myself lucky it was just my leg and I didn’t leave one of my balls on top of that goddamn fence.”
“Lucky indeed,” Roy replied, patting the articles under discussion through Jean’s boxers before proceeding with his disinfecting and bandaging. Jean smiled, leaning back and closing his eyes. When Roy finished, he had to tap him out of a light doze.
“Feel okay?” Roy asked, and Jean wiggled his toes a bit.
“Perfect,” he grinned around a gigantic yawn, and pulled Roy in for a sleepy hug.
Roy patted his arm. “Well, it’ll do until you can get it properly attended to at the clinic tomorrow.”
“Feels much better,” Jean mumbled, head drooping forward onto Roy’s shoulder. “Nice that I have you to… here to…” He yawned again. “Fix me up whenever I get… damaged…” He sighed, a long, deep breath with just a hint of throaty snore. Roy smiled.
“Planning on sleeping here all night, Lieutenant?”
“Mmmkay,” Jean murmured, and Roy laughed and pulled him to his feet.
“You’d wake up with a backache. Come on, lean on me.”
They walked in an awkward, stumbling way, Jean half-balanced on his good leg with an arm draped over Roy’s shoulder, toward their bed. When they reached it, as Roy draped his robe on the hook in the closet door, Jean pulled off his shirt and tossed it in the general direction of the hamper. Then he frowned, looking first at the noticeable lines of sweat and dirt where his shirtsleeves had ended, and then at the freshly washed sheets on the bed.
“Maybe I should take a shower first…” He mumbled, teetering a bit on his feet.
Roy kissed his shoulder. “Tomorrow.”
Jean smiled, eyes closing. “ ‘Kay. Tomorrow,” he whispered, and let Roy situate him in bed, cover him with the duvet, and curl up behind him, wrapping his arms around Jean’s back and kissing his neck, despite the dirt.
“Hope I never have to do one of those again,” Jean mumbled, reaching over to squeeze Roy’s hand.
“Was it that bad?”
There was a short pause, and Havoc shrugged. “I meant it when I said I’d rather work for you any day. Even if you’ve got me digging through a sewer for a wanted criminal’s body...”
“Sorry about that.”
Jean laughed, a short chortle that turned into a yawn. “At least you’re always there to patch me up. Not gonna leave me bleeding half to death on a bunch of chunks of razor…”
“Never.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Always.”
For a few seconds it was silent, Jean’s breath growing slower and more even, throaty and soft. Roy kissed him, squeezed him tight, and whispered into his ear, not really expecting an answer.
“Jean? Follow me?”
But he got one all the same.
“Anywhere…” Jean whispered, and slept.
That's all for now. Thank God I finally managed to write something again.
Side note: original plotbunny came from noticing that a full section of the razorwire fence around the municipal airport in my hometown was on backwards, making it easy to break both in and out again if you wanted to. XD
