Crackfic, humor, and Many Strange Things. So many pairings. So much crack. No, I mean it.
This fic, and the others at brightspecters are collaborations between spooks21 and clarus. There are several FMA fics here, and there will be lots more (they're sitting in a notebook, waiting to be typed), so if you like what you see, go ahead and take a look at the others.
There was coffee all over Roy Mustang’s desk. Why? Because two minutes ago, his best friend had casually said, “So, my wife wants to have a threesome.”
It took Roy a moment to recover. “Excuse me?” Coffee dripped.
Roy looked at Hughes. Roy looked at the ceiling.
Then he very calmly reached into his pocket and pulled on his glove.
Hughes pulled out his camera, took a picture, and by the time the spots cleared from Roy’s vision--flash was a terrible thing--there was no one in the office except for him and his sad, dripping paperwork.
It was terribly unsatisfying. And no one was harder to find than an intelligence agent hiding. But that didn’t mean Roy wasn’t going to try.
He returned to the office in time to catch Hawkeye knocking at his door. “Colonel.” She handed him a piece of paper.
“My letter of resignation, sir.”
Could a brain twitch?
“I’ve met a man.” The change that came over her face was really terrifying. Her eyes got a little vacant and sparkly. “He’s a real man.”
Roy was off-balance. “Not a fake one?”
“Not fake at all.” Hawkeye clasped her hands together over her heart and sighed.
“And you’re leaving the military for him?” Maybe this was what a heart attack would feel like. A slow, sinking heart attack.
“I have to travel, sir.”
“He knows I’ve found him here.”
Could a brain turn inside-out?
“ . . . What?”
“Well, you see, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes taught me how to work a zoom lens and there was this tree--“
Roy didn’t hear the rest. He fled. He needed a safe place. A place where no on would do cruel things to him--a place with honor, with integrity--
With enthusiasm. Roy looked straight ahead and marched to Armstrong’s office.
Alphonse Elric was sitting in Armstrong’s chair. Roy blinked, looked around. “Ahem. Excuse me. Where is Major Armstrong?”
“Oh, Colonel, he’s--“
Al’s armor clanged strangly, and then the helmet lifted.
Armstrong was inside Al’s armor. Why? Oh, no, it was the brain-inside-out feeling again.
“Colonel! It’s not what it looks like!” Al shouted. Could armor blush? It seemed so.
“Do not deny our love, Alphonse Elric! Our love is pure!”
Roy ran. After a few steps he slowed down and walked quickly instead. He found a corridor, then he found a stairwell--his favorite one that he used to escape from paperwork early. He sat down on the bottom step and thought.
April. April Fools. Yes. Of course.
Terrifying. Well, perhaps only a bit fearsome. Really, he should have known--Roy puffed his chest out a little and stood up. Hawekeye’s acting had been superb. It was so realistic. It wasn’t as though she could really . . .
And Armstrong--and Alphonse--that had to be a setup. Hughes probably thought it all up. Yes, of course. First Roy would chase Hughes--after the setup so that it would all be "a big joke, didn't you get it?"--then Hawkeye would ambush him. And only his best friend could have predicted the need for blasting his brain clean with wholesome (weird) (constant) (Armstrong) family values.
Roy had it all figured out. He straightened his uniform and started back up the stairs. He’d win by acting completely unbothered by anything else that was no doubt going to happen.
He retuned to the office to find Havoc on the phone. “Yes--yes. I’m sure burgundry would be just a fabulous color for the drapes--ooh, we could decoupage the paneling--ah--ah--I mean, beer! Beer and football!”
Roy walked right past him and closed the door of his private office. He just wasn’t going to leave his office until the end of the day. Period.
Except that he hadn’t cleaned up the coffee from ealier. Well. Fine. He would clean that--and then he would stay holed up in the office. It was a plan.
Roy stood up again and went to the door. He waited. He looked through the keyhole. He listened.
“We shouldn’t ask today!” Breda sounded grumpy.
Roy stepped away from the door. He did not press against the wall beside it, and he was not hiding.
“Why not?” Farman.
“Have you looked at the calendar? He’d think it was a joke, and a bad one, and then he’d turn red, stammer, and run. Come on, you’ve seen how he acts when we’re drinking and anything like that comes up.” It sounded like Breda sat down.
There was a longish pause, then the sound of a cup being put down. “It’s cute.”
“Cute?” Roy mouthed. Who was cute?
“Heh. Yeah, it is.” Breda paused. “We can ask him--I want to ask him, you know? But it should just wait a day.”
“But he’s going on leave Monday! Even if he says yes, we’ll only have a couple of days with him.”
Leave? Leave! Fury was going on leave. Oh no. Fury had to be warned.
“Hey, I’ll make it up to you.”
And now Roy needed to go scrub his ears. Oh, god, that was Breda’s bedroom voice.
Roy climbed out the window. There was no way they could have planned that. No, Roy definitely had to warn Fury.
It took some stealth and some hiding, but Roy made it. The cafeteria. Fury had been at lunch and--ah, success! He was on his way out.
Roy emerged from his hiding spot and fell into step with him. Fury jumped back a little. “Oh, sir, you startled me!”
“My apologies.” Roy was doing a good deed. “But I need to speak with you in confidence.”
“Of course, sir!”
And so Roy headed in the direction of less people. Then he spoke. “I just overheard Lieutenant Breda and Warrant Officer Farman discussing something you might find of interest.” Now, how could he put it gently?
“Really?” Fury’s eyes lit up. “What was it?”
Roy put his hands on Fury’s shoulders, to hold him stead. “It appeared they were discussing . . .” Roy glanced around, lowered his voice. “ . . . inviting you to join a ménage a trios.”
Fury did seem startled. Then he gasped happily.
Roy thought his soul might have just died a little.
“Oh--oh, Colonel! Thank you for telling me, sir!” Fury looked at him with shiny eyes and blushing cheeks.
Roy did manage to not whimper. Fury hurried off, just glowing with happiness and and skipping. Roy knew despair.
His despair, at least, was practical and sneaky. He remembered to get something to clean up the spilled coffee. He also found cotton. The cotton went in his ears. No more eavesdropping. When he climbed back into his office--via the window--he was relieved to find everything as he had left it.
“Why the hell are you climbing in the window?”
There was a Fullmetal Alchemist sitting on his couch.
“Why are you sitting in my office?” Roy countered smoothly. This was a confrontation he would win. “Here to tell me something?”
Fullmetal crossed his arms and scowled. “How the hell did you know?”
“Everyone has been telling me things today, it’s a trend, and you’ve never been good at hiding your intentions.”
“Fine, then.” Fullmetal stood up. He crossed the room, face still drawn into that scowl. When he got close to Roy, he made fists in Roy’s jacket and pulled him down.
And kissed him. It was clumsy, but this wasn’t the sort of kiss you’d give someone you were playing a prank on. Or was it? Well, just to see, Roy kissed back.
Fullmetal pulled away, his face flushed scarlet and his eyes wide. Then he turned and ran. Roy’s office door did not survive Fullmetal’s exit, and he knocked Havoc, Fury, and Breda over. The office door slammed open as Fullmetal fled the scene entirely. Roy was left looking at his blinking subordinates, a blinking Armstrong, and Al, who looked like he’d be blinking if he had eyelids.
Roy said calmly, “We’re getting married.”
Then he cleaned up the damn coffee.