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Edward Elric was hopelessly in love with his commanding officer, and that had worked out rather well for First Lieutenant Havoc.
Or rather, the fact that said commanding officer had no interest in Edward Elric in return is what had worked out well. The man was, in fact, completely oblivious to the situation as a whole. During the workday Flame and Fullmetal fought intermittently, as was their custom, followed by more sedate periods. The general smirked and taunted, Edward scowled and swore, Hawkeye sighed and shook her head, and at five o’clock Jean and Ed “carpooled” back to his place and made it a night. It wasn’t a perfect situation by any means, but he had the boy’s friendship and his body in his bed, and that was a hell of a lot more than he’d ever had before. This was Edward Elric after all, all muscle and golden skin and passion. Who was he to look such a gorgeous gift-horse in the mouth?
A horse was a good analogy for Ed, Havoc reflected with a grin as he shuffled papers at his desk, and in more ways than one. Recently Ed had wanted to get a bit more adventurous, and as hesitant as Jean had felt about it at first, Edward had been right about giving him a shot taking the lead. Very, very right. Who had known switching things up could be so good?
“Are you smiling while filling out requisition forms?”
The voice shook Havoc out of his thoughts, and he quickly wiped the good-sex grin off of his face as he looked up toward the general’s desk.
“No, sir,” he said with a solemn shake of the head. Hell if he were going to give Mustang so much as the time of day after yesterday.
The general’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Jean did his best to look innocent.
“You don’t actually have a date tonight, do you?” he asked slowly, and Havoc gave a dramatic snort to cover up how close that was to the mark.
“Who with? And don’t pretend you didn’t have anything to do with Josie ‘deciding to stay in’ last night,” he sulked, glaring at the man behind the desk, and Mustang smirked on cue.
“We did stay in,” he pointed out toothily, and then dodged the crumpled paper flung at his head, and reached for a form to retaliate.
At that moment Lieutenant Hawkeye entered the room, quickly putting an end to the whole thing and returning the participants to their work post-haste.
The next few hours or so were uneventful, mostly due to Hawkeye’s sharp eyes being fixed on the general, which made him work, and partly because Ed was holed up in the library for the day. The general did risk looking up to smirk some more when Fuery asked innocently how Jean’s date with Josie went, but didn’t dare say anything while he was still in the lieutenant’s proverbial doghouse for skipping out early the day before.
Finally, the day wrapped up, and Hawkeye and Fuery, always the first two out if there was no need for overtime, bid them goodnight and left.
“Save you a seat, General,” Breda called as he, too, collected his things and walked away.
“Going out?” Havoc asked Breda's retreating back, and the general answered for him.
“Yes, and so are you. Murphy’s in ten.” The man pulled his own coat on and picked up his keys from the top of his desk.
“Can’t,” Havoc grunted, chomping his toothpick. He had to admit he relished being able to turn the bastard down, just out of spite. “Gotta take the boss home.”
“Oh, come on,” Roy said, and paused in the doorway. “Drop him off first.”
“It takes twenty minutes just to get to Ed’s house, and another thirty to get from there to Murphy’s,” he pointed out, though he had no intention whatsoever of taking him anywhere but his own apartment. Jean had been thinking all day about what a fantastic night they’d had, and wanted to turn in early with Ed for a repeat performance. The Elrics had lived out of a suitcase half their lives, so the elder simply kept that suitcase in Jean’s trunk to take with him to his own house or to Jean’s apartment, whichever suited them that day. Combined with the fact that Al only came back from university on the weekends, no one was ever the wiser.
Mustang gave an annoyed sigh and shrugged.
“You’ll just have to bring him along, then, I guess,” he concluded.
“Bring the boss?” Havoc asked hesitantly.
“Just drop him off afterward.” The general turned and leaned against the doorway, jiggling his keys. “You know Ed, he’ll always jump at the chance to impress us with the one-and-a-half beers he can drink.” He gave a chuckle. “And if he makes it to two, you should have a nice, quiet drive, for once.”
Jean forced a half-hearted laugh and rolled the unlit cigarette waiting on the desk with his finger. He didn’t have a better excuse, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Mustang was right—if given the choice, Ed would want to go. “Alright,” he conceded. “I guess I’ll be your DD then. Can’t be drinking if I’m driving the boss, Al’d kill me.”
“If you’re at it anyway, would you mind picking me up, as well, Lieutenant?” Falman asked from his desk. Breda still lived in the dorms, but Falman commuted by car from an off-base apartment, like Jean.
“Sure,” Havoc said. What the hell. “I'll call the bar and let Breda know.”
*****
It was a good time, for the most part, Jean had to admit. After all, he loved the office guys as much as anybody, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t say the same for Mustang. Hell, he was willing to die for him and his goals any given day. Sure, he unwittingly picked up the girls Havoc was trying to date and bragged about it, but that wasn’t Mustang’s fault—not mostly. Jean was always going to be a day-old sandwich compared to Mustang’s gourmet seven-course meal.
No, if Havoc were honest with himself, of late he found himself resenting him under the name of lost dates, but in reality it was more for Ed’s sake.
It truly wasn’t Mustang’s fault that he was straight. And it wasn’t like he had any idea how Ed felt about him.
But Jean felt bad for the kid.
Ed was discreet, and Havoc felt sure that the others in the office didn’t know. Still, when Breda would start egging the general on to tell funny stories about his conquests, or joking about screwing anything with two legs and tits and Ed had to sit there through it—or worse, when some drunk floozy would come over and start throwing herself at him and the general would flat-out encourage it without the slightest intention of taking her seriously, Jean felt his stony resentment grow.
Havoc didn’t know as much about Ed’s past as Mustang did, and didn’t know about everything that Ed and Al had gone through getting their bodies back, but it looked from where Jean stood like Edward Elric had been dealt a pretty shitty hand. The last thing he deserved was to be stuck in love with a straight guy—a straight guy who lived for taking shots at the kid, no less.
“Hey,” Ed started, shaking Havoc from his postcoital musings. Ed had been in a good mood all night, and was more than happy to go back to Jean's place, despite the hour. It hadn’t been the slow-and-thorough romp Jean had been envisioning for the night, but Ed certainly never disappointed. Jean was sweaty and exhausted in the best of ways.
“Hm?”
When Jean turned his head to look at him, however, the other blond seemed to think better of it. “Eh, sorry, nevermind,” Ed said, looking faintly embarrassed. Havoc had a bad feeling he knew what this was about, but asked anyway.
“What is it, Boss?”
Ed had second thoughts again, judging by his face, but finally gave in.
“When he—Mustang, you know, when we were all getting ready to go, and he said, ‘Glad you could make it,’ that’s just…you know, that’s just what people say, right? Like a set phrase?” Even back-lit, his striking eyes caught the light as he looked at Jean, carefully neutral, carefully not hoping.
Did he mean it?
That’s what the kid really wanted to know.
“Couldn’t say,” Jean answered, stomach twisting. He couldn’t tell him they only invited him so Jean could go, certainly, but still, he didn’t want to lie. “But it was his idea for you to come along in the first place, so....”
He instantly regretted it when he saw that spark in Ed’s eyes, even as he kept his face carefully indifferent.
“No shit?” he said, and shifted in the bed, everything about him seeming to glow brighter, from his eyes to his golden hair to his scarred bronze skin. “Huh.”
Guilt seeped in and rose in Havoc’s throat. What the hell was he doing? He shouldn’t be feeding his hopes when he knew they’d come to nothing. It would only be worse for him in the end.
“I’m gonna go get some water,” he said, grabbing the half-empty pack of cigarettes and the lighter on the nightstand as he pulled himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Ed made a small hum of distracted acknowledgement, stretching his arms over his head in a yawn before settling further down in the bed, facing the wall.
Jean picked his boxers up off the floor and pulled them on, then headed to the kitchen. He flicked on the light before walking over to the stove, where he pulled the chain to start the small fan set into the smoke canopy above it.
Edward had assured him he didn’t mind, but Jean made a point never to light up while he was in the room. Just because Jean chose to smoke didn’t mean he wanted to fill Ed’s lungs with the stuff, too. Besides, if Al ever found out, he’d guilt Jean to death with his eyes before the tobacco could do it.
Shaking a cigarette out of the box with agitated fingers, he stuck it between his lips and flicked the lighter open and then shut. He took a quick drag and blew it out, running the base of his hand along his brow as smoke trailed out above his head.
“Fuck,” he muttered to the empty kitchen.
I wish like hell he meant it, Ed.
“You and me both.”