Maes Hughes could hear the angry expostulations from halfway down the hall. Even from this distance, they drowned out the brisk clop of his boots as he strode toward the office. As he approached the door, he attracted more than a few raised eyebrows and speculative frowns from personnel going the other direction on administrative business. A couple of young uniformed men saluted half-heartedly, but he waved off the formality, raising an eyebrow as they ducked their heads, avoiding his eyes. He could hear their steps speeding up after they passed, as though they were seeking a quick escape. Behind them came an older woman with an arm full of files, and after an initial widening of her eyes, she favoured him with a thin smile that might have had an element of pity to it. But surely that was just his imagination.
The words became clearer, the closer he got. "That's absolutely ridiculous!" came a familiar growl, the sound bouncing out the half-open door and reverberating off the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.
Maes pushed the door further open and stepped into the office, to find half of Roy Mustang's people turning toward him, eyes fixed on his face like deer in the headlights, while the rest of them stared transfixed at Roy's back as he stood rigidly in front of his desk, the phone pressed to his ear.
Maes cast a questioning glance at Vato Falman, whose own desk was closest to the door. The man responded with a grimace, but offered no explanation, hunching down over some papers in front of him as though actually planning to work. Jean Havoc, who himself stood just inside the door, apparently afraid to go any closer to his desk at the other end of the room, ran a hand over his messy hair, rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Don't ask me, I don't have a clue."
Even Riza Hawkeye, a file poised half-opened in front of her, looked from Roy to Maes and shrugged slightly in resignation, lowering the file and resting her hands on it.
"I've heard enough!" Roy snarled into the receiver, still unaware of his visitor. "You can tell him to shove it where the sun doesn't – no, of course I'm not going to answer it! Who would I answer? I won't dignify stupidity with any response at all. Now kindly let me get back to work, and stop bothering me with such trivialities!"
And with that, he slammed the receiver down onto its stand so hard that it rattled. His subordinates remained as they were, paralyzed in silent suspense, waiting to see what he'd do next. The late afternoon sun, slanting in through the windows behind Roy's desk, cast him into sharp, fire-limned silhouette, his shadow jutting across the floor as though slicing the room in half.
"Well," Maes blurted cheerfully, "it's a nice day out today, isn't it? The sun's shining, the rain has stopped – "
Roy whirled to glare at him, dark eyes piercing his friend like daggers from all the way across the room. But rather than exploding as his people obviously expected, he strode grimly toward the door. "Hughes!" he snapped. "Outside. Now."
"Sir…?" Hawkeye ventured. "Is there something I can – "
"Later, Hawkeye," he bit off his dismissal. "Hughes. Let's go."
He pushed past his friend and into the hallway, the sound of his hard, angry footsteps indicating his progress as he tromped down the hall. Maes flashed a wide gaze at the room in general. "He get bad news, or something?"
Hawkeye contemplated the empty doorway uneasily. "He didn't give us the chance to find out."
"I see. Well, I guess I'd better go and ask, then."
Maes waved a breezy hand in farewell, turning on his heel. He left the office with Kain Fuery's "Good luck, Lieutenant Colonel!" following him out the door. He had a feeling he might need it.
Roy was already a considerable distance ahead, weaving in and out through the usual office traffic, marching stiffly toward the exit at the other end of the hall. Maes half-ran, half-skipped, trying to catch up. Just ahead, he saw the man bang open one of the outer doors with perhaps slightly more force than he needed to, and it almost caught Maes in the face as it rebounded. He shoved it open again, following his friend down the front steps of the Eastern headquarters building, and at last he drew alongside.
He cast his companion a curious glance as they walked down the sidewalk. Now that they were side by side, his longer legs had no trouble keeping up with Roy's brisk strides. "Well?" he ventured at last. "Are you going to tell me or do I get to invent something?"
"It's simply ridiculous," Roy growled, gaze fixed straight ahead.
"Yeah, I heard that. From about six doors down." Maes swerved to avoid a couple of teenaged girls chattering to each other and not watching where they were going. (One of them had enough presence of mind, though, to cast Roy a wide-eyed glance as she went by. Some things remained constant, no matter which city the guy was stationed in.)
"This is absolutely the last thing I need right now," Roy spoke again, seemingly oblivious to the admiration.
"'This' being…?" Maes prompted hopefully. He peered ahead, wondering if he could find some place where the two of them could speak more privately. But the street appeared to be lined on either side with shops and cafes.
"I mean," Roy plowed ahead as though he hadn't heard. "Basque Gran is dead, Tim Marcoh's been captured, Fullmetal's arm has been destroyed, and Alphonse Elric's armour has been blasted to bits. And now this! As though I needed to have to deal with something else on top of all that."
"But what exactly is – "
"I just don't know how I'm expected to function around here with something like this going on – "
"Roy Mustang," Maes cried in exasperation, "if you don't tell me what 'this' actually is, I'm going to tie you down and sit on you till you do!"
"Sure, and play right into their hands," Roy retorted, glaring, coming to an abrupt halt.
Maes almost skidded past him, but pulled himself up short. He straightened his glasses. "What the hell is going on? C'mon, Roy, I can't help if I don't know."
"The rumours have started again," Roy blurted, starting down the sidewalk again as though he'd been launched, fists clenched at his sides.
"Rumours…?" Maes skittered to catch up yet again, this time ducking to dodge a bushy tree that loomed over his side of the sidewalk.
"You know the ones," his friend muttered, head lowering into slightly hunched shoulders. "The rumours. Like the ones in our last year at the academy."
"Ohhh! You mean, the ones…"
"Yes. The ones about…you and me. That say we're…"
"That say we're more than friends," Maes finished quietly, to keep a couple of men with briefcases from hearing as they passed by.
Roy's jaw clenched. "Yes. Those."
"Well, you know those stories have come up before. People are always gonna talk – "
"It's just – the timing is so bad, Maes. With everything else going on, I just don't need this."
Again Maes scanned the terrain up ahead. There seemed to be a small laneway just ahead, between the military building and the block of shops. Good.
"You can't let these things get to you, Roy – "
"Easy for you to say!" his friend snapped. "You're leaving for Central in a few days, and won't have to walk down the street and hear the whispering as you go by."
"Well, of course I will," Maes contradicted him reasonably. "The rumours are about me as well as you."
"But you're a living contradiction, going home to Gracia and Elysia – "
"Not necessarily, Roy, if the rumours have begun again. Everyone knows I'm married, and obviously they're still talking. But that reminds me – "
"Don't start, Maes!" Roy hissed. "If you dare to start in again about my finding a wife, I'll knock you down right here! This is the absolute last straw, I tell you! I was already feeling like I was going to explode – and Scar is still out there, and who knows where he'll strike again – or who – "
He really did look as though he could explode if something wasn't done to ease the tension. Apart from his clenched jaw, there was that telltale twitch of the eyebrow, just at the inner corner of the right eye. The anger that usually simmered quietly somewhere in the depths was very near to boiling out of him. Something would have to be done, Maes decided, before it bubbled up again and someone – most likely Roy himself – got hurt.
They had almost reached the lane. And coincidentally, the street traffic seemed to have hit a lull; a man and woman not far ahead turned in to a café door rather than coming toward them and – Maes checked over his shoulder – the sidewalk behind them was currently empty. As the two drew near to the dark, narrow entrance, he grabbed Roy's arm and jerked him off the walk, into the shadows and out of sight of the street. He dragged him a few feet away from the sunlight, his friend stumbling as he tried to keep his balance.
"What the – ?" Roy began in alarm.
But Maes gave him no chance to talk or do anything else, instead swinging him around, shoving him back against a wall. And before his companion realized what was happening, he had covered Roy's mouth with his own, stifling all objection.
He made it as good as he possibly could. He cupped his hands on either side of Roy's head and pushed his body hard against the wall, trapping him there as he forced the man's mouth open and thrust in his tongue, ignoring the shocked grunt of protest. Roy's fingers dug into his forearms, frantically tugging, trying to wrench them apart.
Maes pulled his hands back and grabbed his friend's wrists, slapping them hard to the wall above Roy's head. "Oh no, you don't," he panted, teeth scraping Roy's lips, sharp green eyes boring manically into panic-stricken black ones. "Not till I'm done with you!"
"Maes – god dammit – !"
But Maes silenced him immediately, and felt the tendons of his friend's wrists tighten and twist under his palms, while the man's head jerked back and forth, trying to escape the mouth that devoured him. Maes deepened the kiss, thoroughly invading Roy's mouth with his searching tongue. With a high-pitched gasp, his friend bucked against him, body contorting, desperate to escape the rough embrace.
But Maes relentlessly maintained the kiss, teeth clashing against his friend's, lips assaulting his mouth and face. He felt the struggle weaken, gradually, under his hands and against his body. Roy gasped for air, head falling back, as Maes lowered his own head and began to explore the man's neck just below one ear. He could feel the uneven heartbeat leaping under his lips.
The twisting gradually subsided, and Roy appeared to be surrendering the fight. "Maes…," he breathed. Maes laughed softly, and lightly licked the pounding pulse, tracing its heat down to the collar of the uniform.
But abruptly Roy yanked his hands free, the restraining grip having loosened as Maes had leaned down. Now it was Roy's turn to grab Maes's head, burying fingers like claws in his hair. But rather than pushing him away, he returned the kisses with sudden fervour. Maes jerked his head up in surprise, but Roy hauled it back down and closed his mouth over his friend's, curling a leg behind one of Maes's knees so that he fell forward, yet again sandwiching his friend between his body and the wall. Roy's cologne permeated his throat as he took in a sudden gasp of air, before his mouth was claimed again.
At last they released each other, simultaneously wrenching apart as though receiving a silent signal, panting roughly into the heavy afternoon air as they stared at each other. Maes took a step back, wiping the back of a hand across his mouth.
He met his friend's narrowed eyes, and swallowed. "Well?" he said, the breathless word hissing into the silence between them.
Roy's attention turned inward as he stared sightlessly at the opposite wall, brows drawn. He pondered for a moment. "I think…," he began, then dabbed with cautious fingers at a split near the corner of his lower lip. Finally he focused back on his friend's face. "I hate to have to tell you this, Maes, but…"
"But what?"
A little shrug. "But I get nothing."
Maes nodded thoughtfully. "Same here."
"I tried, though. Just to be sure."
"Yeah, I know. So did I. I figured we'd better settle it once and for all." He glanced down the lane toward the entrance, as a sudden obscuring of the daylight indicated the passing of a group of chattering teenagers. None of them noticed the two officers in the shadows.
"Good idea. Although," Roy mused, "it's not surprising you didn't feel anything. The way you're so crazy about Gracia, it's pretty clear that you don't tend…that way." The less damaged corner of his mouth quirked up as he drawled, "Not even for me."
"No," Maes smiled wryly. "Though if I felt like that for any man, it would certainly be you. But I was pretty sure you didn't tend that direction either. Not when you feel the way you do about – "
"That's enough, Hughes," Roy interrupted softly.
Right. The one subject, the one person, he refused ever to discuss even with his closest friend. Maes wisely shut up, as always.
But now Roy leaned back against the wall behind him, folding his arms across his chest, and favoured his friend with a slight smile. "I guess that ends it then," he said.
"Yeah," Maes nodded. "So does it really matter what the rumours say? Or whether or not people believe them?"
"I guess it doesn't, really. You're right. You always are. It doesn't matter at all." Roy straightened up, running a hand over his tousled hair to settle it back into place, then pulling his jacket into place with a couple of efficient tugs.
"Of course I'm right," Maes told him. "You should listen to me once in a while."
"Don't press your luck. Your glasses are crooked, by the way."
"Thanks," Maes straightened the frames on his nose. "Well. I suppose we should get back, then."
"Oh, let's walk around the block first. Things will keep a bit longer, while we take a break. Don't you think?"
The two men peered cautiously from the lane entrance, glancing in both directions to make sure they weren't noticed as they stepped carefully back into the sunlight on the street. They resumed their walk, the pace this time considerably more leisurely than before. Roy strolled slowly, one casual hand in a pocket, and finally Maes could relax instead of trotting to match his pace. He blinked in the light, breathing in the strong aroma of some spicy dish being served on a café patio up ahead. Roy touched his arm, pointing out a dark-haired man across the street, taking pictures of his wife and young daughter poised in front of one of the shop windows. The man urged several times, "Just one more!" while his wife, obviously used to this, obligingly smiled into the camera and bore the picture-taking with remarkable patience.
"Very funny," Maes murmured, and Roy chuckled softly.
They walked past the stores and little restaurants for the most part in silence, listening to the chatter of voices along the street and the engines of the vehicles driving by. Everyone in East City seemed to be relieved that the unusual spell of rain had subsided at last. Meanwhile, Maes watched his friend closely, taking in the relaxation of his jaw and the return of his sidelong smile, and was satisfied.
There was one moment – just a fleeting instant, really – when Roy cast him a sly glance of something that looked very much like speculation, and he held his breath, wondering if the man had guessed how the latest rumours had started. But it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, and he didn't dare ask.
Whatever the case, he seemed to have played things just right, back there in the lane. For the time being, it had really helped to get Roy's mind off the latest problems and the tense juggling act he always had to deal with. It had been worth it, to put that lazy smile back on his face.
The things you had to do for a friend, sometimes.