Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or the characters, though I do love it to death.
Randomly done for a
friend. Roy/Frank contained within. If Yaoi is not your thing,
don't
say I didn't warn you.
………………………….
Frank Archer always had
like to play favourites. His favourite gun was a colt .45; his
favourite drink was scotch whiskey. His favourite place to go was the
'abandoned' prison
in the army's block 45 laboratory; that was
where he met him.
Archer wasn't really
a people person, even with the other personnel. It just didn't make
sense to have anything but a professional relationship with the
people you had to put up
with day in and day out. How else does one
deal with having to take orders they didn't
like, do jobs they
didn't want, and watch people die that they didn't want to go?
But Mustang was
different. He was, to the core, a soldier after his own heart. Even
if he
didn't play the political games expected of people in his
position, he was still a match to
be reckoned with - the alchemy
inside only making him that much more dangerous.
Being around Mustang
had awakened another favourite within him: battle. The military's
raging war not providing enough of a challenge anymore, assaults of
intellect and
manipulation became his real passion; and oh - how
Archer love to go head to head with
that man. Taking every argument
and challenge that Mustang threw his way and whipping
it back at him
with the reflexes of a pro. The thought of fighting him always caused
his
breath to catch in anticipation, his heart to quicken in
excitement; and in the end, the
passion of challenge giving away to
passion of other sorts.
The sex between the two
often turned into a competition too. Each of them vying
for
dominance; wrestling around - pushing to be on top until sweaty
(heaving) one
of them finally gave. And even though Frank really
didn't mind losing those battles, it was
a matter of principal that
he fight them to the last.
….
It didn't seem right
that anybody but Archer should be able to sign and carry out
Mustang's execution. He deserved the best, a killer who would
appreciate just how fine a
soldier he had been. In the end he would
have it no other way but to carry it out himself,
he owed that to the
battle between them, and to Mustang himself.
After all, Frank Archer
had always like to play favourites. His favourite colour was the
charcoal in his eyes, his favourite element was the fire in his
veins, and his favourite person
was Roy.