![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rajTitle: Fireflies
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raja815
Pairing/Fandom:One-sided Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang, FMA
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 669
Warnings A little angsty.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Prologue to the "Line of Fire" arc. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
10_prompts, set 7, propmt #3 "I Think of You."
When Jean Havoc had been very young, he’d spent long summer days on his family’s farm, playing in the barn, counting the jars on the shelves of his ma’s general store, or “helping” his uncle Leon drive the tractor. The evenings were often spent in his grandparents' kitchen, listening to his grandfather’s stories or helping whatever visiting cousins happened to be in to finish off the last of his gram’s chocolate pie.
Later on, though, when he was dropping off to sleep on his ma’s shoulder, he’d watch the sun go down through the curtained windows, and the darkening yard fill with thousands and thousands of tiny, flickering lights.
“They’re fireflies, Jean,” his ma had responded, a note of laughter in her voice, to her tiny son’s whispered question of how it was that gram’s yard was suddenly so full of fairies. “Lightning bugs. That’s how they say hello.”
He’d been fascinated with them from the on, and had watched diligently through the window every night as they emerged from a few faint glints in the shadows beneath the trees at twilight to a full-out blanket of flickering lights that rivaled the stars high above his head. When he’d been a little older he’d taken to catching them in jars, just so he could hold them for a few moments in his hand and marvel at the way they glowed so bright without any kindling or electric wire, before freeing them in a bright yellow wave to join their companions in the shadows.
Of course, once you got to be six feet tall and wore a uniform and fired a gun that would’ve outweighed your own three-year-old body for a living, he supposed things like an entire field of glowing bugs kind of lost their charm. It sure as hell wasn’t something he’d bring up, not even to Heymans in his most desperate drunk. But even so, he couldn’t forget that feeling; he felt it every day, although it wasn’t insects that captivated him any more, but a man.
He didn’t really know exactly when it had begun. First it had been out of the corner of his eye, letting his gaze linger just a few seconds too long on the way the other man held a pen, or listening too closely when he spoke on the phone, so that Jean could catch every word from even halfway across the room.
He didn’t know when it had begun, or why, or even what exactly it was. But soon it became clearer, and he watched more and more, stealing glances in the rearview mirror, across the table at lunchtime, or through the window while Jean stood under the tree outside for his smoke break.
And one day, when he found out the man in question had stolen yet another of Havoc’s potential dates, he figured it out. He felt the same burning, angry ache that always came when this happened, but, in a realization so sharp he gasped and almost inhaled his lit cigarette whole, this time it wasn’t that he’d ended up on the date with her that knotted his stomach with jealousy, but that she’d ended up with him, and he had to punch the tree in a sudden burst of anger at himself that he’d somehow gone and done such a damn foolish thing as fall in love with his superior officer.
It seemed, even when he wasn’t snapping flames, Roy Mustang could burn. And Jean was on fucking fire.
He didn’t know what to do about it, and in the end he just kept watching, silent and wide-eyed. In a weird way, he was just as helpless as he’d been all those years ago.
For days that stretched into months, he wondered if he dared reach out and try to catch him, even for a moment.
He probably never would’ve gotten the courage, but flames are always brighter in the dark, and, from out of the blinding desert sunlight, he’d suddenly found all the dark he ever could’ve wanted.
***
I'll get the next (much, much smexier) part up ASAP.
Author:
raja815Pairing/Fandom:One-sided Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang, FMA
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 669
Warnings A little angsty.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Prologue to the "Line of Fire" arc. Written for
10_prompts, set 7, propmt #3 "I Think of You." When Jean Havoc had been very young, he’d spent long summer days on his family’s farm, playing in the barn, counting the jars on the shelves of his ma’s general store, or “helping” his uncle Leon drive the tractor. The evenings were often spent in his grandparents' kitchen, listening to his grandfather’s stories or helping whatever visiting cousins happened to be in to finish off the last of his gram’s chocolate pie.
Later on, though, when he was dropping off to sleep on his ma’s shoulder, he’d watch the sun go down through the curtained windows, and the darkening yard fill with thousands and thousands of tiny, flickering lights.
“They’re fireflies, Jean,” his ma had responded, a note of laughter in her voice, to her tiny son’s whispered question of how it was that gram’s yard was suddenly so full of fairies. “Lightning bugs. That’s how they say hello.”
He’d been fascinated with them from the on, and had watched diligently through the window every night as they emerged from a few faint glints in the shadows beneath the trees at twilight to a full-out blanket of flickering lights that rivaled the stars high above his head. When he’d been a little older he’d taken to catching them in jars, just so he could hold them for a few moments in his hand and marvel at the way they glowed so bright without any kindling or electric wire, before freeing them in a bright yellow wave to join their companions in the shadows.
Of course, once you got to be six feet tall and wore a uniform and fired a gun that would’ve outweighed your own three-year-old body for a living, he supposed things like an entire field of glowing bugs kind of lost their charm. It sure as hell wasn’t something he’d bring up, not even to Heymans in his most desperate drunk. But even so, he couldn’t forget that feeling; he felt it every day, although it wasn’t insects that captivated him any more, but a man.
He didn’t really know exactly when it had begun. First it had been out of the corner of his eye, letting his gaze linger just a few seconds too long on the way the other man held a pen, or listening too closely when he spoke on the phone, so that Jean could catch every word from even halfway across the room.
He didn’t know when it had begun, or why, or even what exactly it was. But soon it became clearer, and he watched more and more, stealing glances in the rearview mirror, across the table at lunchtime, or through the window while Jean stood under the tree outside for his smoke break.
And one day, when he found out the man in question had stolen yet another of Havoc’s potential dates, he figured it out. He felt the same burning, angry ache that always came when this happened, but, in a realization so sharp he gasped and almost inhaled his lit cigarette whole, this time it wasn’t that he’d ended up on the date with her that knotted his stomach with jealousy, but that she’d ended up with him, and he had to punch the tree in a sudden burst of anger at himself that he’d somehow gone and done such a damn foolish thing as fall in love with his superior officer.
It seemed, even when he wasn’t snapping flames, Roy Mustang could burn. And Jean was on fucking fire.
He didn’t know what to do about it, and in the end he just kept watching, silent and wide-eyed. In a weird way, he was just as helpless as he’d been all those years ago.
For days that stretched into months, he wondered if he dared reach out and try to catch him, even for a moment.
He probably never would’ve gotten the courage, but flames are always brighter in the dark, and, from out of the blinding desert sunlight, he’d suddenly found all the dark he ever could’ve wanted.
I'll get the next (much, much smexier) part up ASAP.
