Sexually Active Rainbows

Chapter One: The Meeting

Alright, this idea has been bothering me for awhile. This fanfiction is entirely based off of two roleplays between LimeshellsAreLazy, and me, redwalgrl-RG. It should be fun, I've been interested in writing this for sometime now.

Rating: R—I'm including the yaoi goodness

Genre(s): Romance/Drama (I swear, it's like a soap opera! XD)

Original Characters: Um… I don't believe so. If there are, I will warn you.

Out of Characterness: Well… uke!Archer can't be in character with BONES' Archer. So sue me.

DISCLAIMER: REDD DOESN'T OWN THE CHARACTERS. Though she might as well own uke!Archer since she's one of the only people who likes him uke-ing… This idea is shared between her and LimeshellsAreLazy

Enjoy.

-+-

"Sir? You have a phone call from the city morgue and—"

"Tell them I'm not here." Roy mumbled, not looking up from his paperwork. He wouldn't have it, not another word of it. If he had to do anything else associated with Maes' death he'd...he'd… He just wasn't going to have it. He didn't care that Riza grumbled and slammed his office door. She thought she knew what pain was? "You have no fucking idea," He hissed, scribbling more or less nonsense on another very important document. So what? He didn't care. Maes' death weighed heavy on his mind. That was more important. He sighed, crumbling it up, and starting over. The past week had been hell. He hadn't slept more then two or three hours a night. He had lost fourteen pounds. His dreams, as little as he had, were flooded with nightmares upon nightmares. He should have been there. He should have done something.

And now he couldn't bring himself to do anything. It had been up to him to announce to Gracia and Elysia of Maes' death. He had identified the body. He had been to the funeral. And still people just wouldn't leave him alone about it. He just wanted it all to end, to burry himself in a hole and never come out. His Maes was dead and gone.

But today, as much as he would have liked to call in sick, he had to be there. And he was indeed sick, looking as pale and frail as he did. His already slanted eyes were red and glassed. He didn't care at this point if people knew he cried, at least among his office lackeys. Now a new addition was being added, with Maes gone. Who was it? All he knew, or cared to really hear, was that it was another Lieutenant Colonel. Perfect, just what he needed. "Fuck it!" He snapped, tossing his papers aside and puling out his flask, taking another drink. How many times had he had to refill it that day? Let this be my last drink, He thought, leaning back into his chair miserably.

-+-

The newly-promoted Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer glanced around. The office was nothing like the one he'd previously been working in. For one, there was a little puppy dog running around and scaring the shit out of one of the workers. The only woman in the office had a gun prominently displayed on her desk. There was a very young looking man working on some sort of machine at his desk, and a chain smoker next to him.

Needless to say, Frank Archer figured that this was a new level of hell.

But at least he'd been promoted. So what if Hughes had to die? It was about damn time he got a promotion! After getting brief instructions, he was ordered to be working here now. And seeing the only empty desk in the room, dropped his supplies down on it and displayed the golden tag; Lieutenant Colonel Archer.

It certainly made him antsy to be so close to the boss' door. He'd heard rumors about Roy Mustang. Terrible rumors. That he was a womanizer, that he never did his paperwork, that he could burn anyone who refused to do what he said. That power... It was something Archer craved, and something he knew he couldn't have. With a sigh, he pulled out the paperwork that he was supposed to be reviewing and got started on it. No sense in wasting time, was there?

-+-

There was just no way to get it done. That paper work seemed to give him the evil eye, taunting him and his inability. Sighing Roy placed it all in a file, and then into his brief case. May as well do it at home. He groaned, realizing what day it was. Tuesday. Tuesdays had always been the worst work days, which lead Roy and Maes to establish a little after work meeting. They'd go over to his apartment and have a few drinks. Since Wednesdays were so slow it didn't matter if he came to work hung over. He had been hung over all week, and now he'd be drinking alone. Again.

"You? You're Frank Archer?" he asked wearily, looking at his file before the man. He seemed older then Roy, yet had a young face. It was his hair no doubt, and unnatural silver. Not entirely bad, not entirely wonderful either. It was unique. Yes, that was the right word. "I'm Roy Mustang, currently in charge of this station." He sighed, knowing it wasn't as professional sounding as he had hoped. This man just lingered with experience. And a bitter coldness that he couldn't quiet place.

Archer had been about to answer his new boss when the phone rang and Roy rushed back into the office. He shrugged to himself and continued on with his paperwork, figuring that Roy would come back to continue the introduction.

"Yes? Hm...I have to pick it up? Now...? Alright...goodbye." Roy hung up, pissed. "God dammit! Can't someone else handle this shit?!" He snapped, loud enough for his subordinates to hear outside the door. Apparently the morgue had more paperwork for him to sign. just wonderful. He stormed out and stopped by Archer's desk, considering. And then, " You, Archer. Come with me." It wasn't a question.

"Sir?" Archer asked, immediately masking any confusion he had. Why the hell was Roy bringing him along? This wasn't official military work was it? No, probably not. He held back a sigh and stood up, glancing around before quickly following Roy.

He had to get to know this man, this Lieutenant Colonel. It just wasn't fair, how all this was pushed onto Roy. Well, he knew he couldn't pass it all off to Gracia, she had enough to deal with as it was. But still… Roy was seriously considering exploding the next large mass of sulfur that walked by. He groaned, realizing that even thinking that made him sound like the now-dead Crimson Alchemist. "Well, come on!"

Archer quickly snapped a salute as he was addressed and joined Roy as his superior unlocked a standard, military-issued vehicle. The military issued a lot, come to think of it. Well, Archer didn't have a lot of time to think about it, he was immediately in the car and praying that Roy wouldn't be driving like a madman. He pretty much was a madman as it was. Though now he was in a better position to get a look at his superior officer. Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, and a Colonel, looked broken. That was really the only way to say it. Croppy raven-black hair and equally dark eyes, red-rimmed from crying apparently. Archer was curious. Did Maes Hughes really mean so much to Roy?

"Tell me, Frank Archer, do you enjoy serving for King Bradley?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but Roy had a method to his madness. He was curious, was this Frank Archer another ass-kisser? Roy's subordinates weren't—they served him and him alone. They weren't there just to move up through the ranks. They were there to support him. He knew he should have been grateful, but still… He managed to catch a glimpse of the other man, which caused a frown to crease the Flame Alchemist's face. He wasn't entirely unattractive, this Lieutenant Colonel. He wasn't unattractive at all. Though his skin was unnatural pale; a soft snow white that contrasted with his icy blue eyes nicely. His skin looked soft, very soft. Why could only women have so soft skin? Always soaked in perfume and lotions, it sickened him. It seemed no women could satisfy him anymore. Or maybe he was just picky. Always saying something (though he didn't know just what) was wrong about whatever interest he had. So he wouldn't have to get committed.

Do I enjoy serving Fuhrer Bradley? What a stupid question. Was Mustang seriously unaware of how dedicated Archer was? Did he really not know about Archer's goal to get to the top? "Of course. I live to serve." He was an ass-kisser, a pencil-pusher, and he really didn't care. It was the way he was, and it was the way he was going to be. He'd make it to the top. And with Roy broken like this, it wouldn't be that hard.

Roy stopped the car and made his way out, waiting for Archer before locking it back and jamming his keys in his pockets. "This won't take long." He started toward the building, glancing sidelong at his shorter subordinate. "So, what did you do in your current position Archer? Are you an alchemist?" He had to know more about this man. After all, he was this man's boss.

"I'm just your standard pencil-pusher." Archer snapped back stiffly, though there was no malice in his voice. Just apathy. That's what he was, Apathetic Archer. He just didn't care. He never did. Though Roy had touched on a sore spot—the fact that he wasn't an alchemist. He didn't want to think about it, really. His entire family—the men of the Archer line—had all been State Alchemists. He just couldn't do it. Which made him a failure in his father's eyes. But that wasn't something he wanted to relive.

"Mm." Roy nodded absently, instructing Archer to wait outside as he hurried in. About ten minutes later he came back, arms full with paperwork. It was always paperwork, wasn't it?! "It's for Lieu—Brigadier General Hughes. His wife just couldn't handle all this…" He sighed, starting back toward the car and managing to get his keys out of his pocket without upending all the papers.

"Really, sir? That's kind of you." But it was stated emotionlessly. Archer really didn't care. He'd gotten this promotion because Hughes had died. So what? In all honesty, he didn't care for Hughes. And if it had to be this way so he could get to the top, then so be it. He'd already stepped on others' heads to get here. He wasn't going to quit now.

Once Roy managed to unlock the car and load the papers in the back, he got in and tried to start it. The engine made a strange sputtering sound before dying. "Piece of crap!!" Roy cussed, getting out again and looking at the engine. He knew nothing about cars. Dammit, he'd have to get it towed! He groaned again and snatched the papers, explaining, "Come on, we'll just go wait at my house until one of my subordinates can come pick us up."

"Your house, sir?" Archer asked, following him, glancing back at the car. Leave it to Roy Mustang to forget about his car. Ugh.

"Yes, my house." What is he, a fucking parrot? "It's not even a block away."

Then why the hell couldn't you wait until you got home to go get this paperwork? Archer thought savagely, but no change in expression.

They made it to Roy's apartment a good five minutes later, Roy tossing the papers down on the littered coffee table. "Take a seat. You want anything?"

We're only going to be here for a little while. Archer mentally groaned, instead sitting down apprehensively, like the couch would eat him or something. Well, it was more or less because he hadn't been told 'at ease, Lieutenant' yet. "No, thank you."

"You sure?" Roy called from the kitchen, locating a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Maybe provoking a challenge would work? "One beer isn't gonna kill you."

"No thank you, I don't drink." Archer responded icily, glancing down at his pristinely cut nails. He would never drink again. It was disgusting. He'd gotten drunk once, it was horrible. He vowed never to let it happen to him again.

Roy downed a bottle and then located another. His refrigerator was always stocked full of beer. And he'd been drinking at work, so of course he was planning on getting shit-faced drunk. He stumbled back into the room, almost tripping over some scattered pens and managing to land on the couch without spilling his beer. Now sitting practically on top of his Lieutenant Colonel, Roy remarked, "You don't get out much do ya? Ya skin, its awfully pale, its nice though, yeah. Nice. You're Amestrian?"

"…" Archer glanced up, letting a flicker of disgust cross his face. "Sir, you're drunk." He managed to slip out from under Roy and hold back a groan. "I suggest you wait here until your drunken state wears off. Then call Central and have someone pick you up." He'd just walk back. Why not, it was good exercise anyway.

"Ooh Frankie, you think I'm drunk?"

No shit. And Archer was tempted to hit him for using that horrid nickname.

"You know, you're not going back to th' office…" Roy sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. He wasn't even talking to Archer anymore. No. Archer would suffice, he would replace the physical being that Roy craved; Maes.

"What the hell do you mean?" Archer asked, letting rank drop for a moment. "Of course I'm going back. I'm—"

"Let's stop playin' around 'ready." Roy cut him off and continued, "I know you've wanted me from the start…" He pulled Archer back by the waist, leaning over and biting down playfully on his neck.

Archer made a surprised and rather strangled gasping sound. "Wh-what the hell do you think you're doing, sir?!"

"You know the fastest way to get a promotion, don't you?" He purred, his hand trailing down past the other's waistband. "You'd do anythin' to get to the top, wouldn't you?" Roy smiled, knowing that to be the truth, and began to play with Archer.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Archer didn't even get a chance to reprimand Roy for such behavior before the other's hand was down in his pants, Archer's eyes widening at the definitely unwanted contact. "Sir…!"

"I think you know...what I have in mind."