Song fic. Roy drinks too much every night to make it home to his own place. My Chemical Romance 'The Sharpest Lives'. Roy/Ed yaoi. Rated M for sexual situations and language.
The idea for the fic was lawlietlivesforever's, who also wrote the intro to this and beta'd the whole thing. Thanks for your patience and awesome idea!
Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, the clever girl.
Review Please, more to come! :)
Sunday Night
Roy sighed as he sat down at the bar. He rested his elbow on the wood, massaging his forehead with his palm. He was tired, but another long day of paperwork was the least of his problems. Problems, in fact that didn't seem to want to go away. The problems he had liked to stick around for a while before ending in a nasty, painful solution. And even then, there was the aftermath. At times, Roy thought the aftermath was worse; bad endings only happened once, but memories lived on forever. Memories that played again and again in Roy's head like a broken record player. And regrets. Regrets that stuck to his thoughts like bugs to flypaper.
The bartender brought him a scotch without a word, recognizing one of his regular patrons. Roy took his glass and began the process of quickly emptying it. Dousing the pain in alcohol didn't solve anything, but it'd make the pain go away for a couple hours at least
The icy ground crunched as he made his way up the path. At one time in his life, he walked this path often and nowadays when he did walk it, it was never at the right time, never appropriate. He stumbled up the steps. When he was drunk he could never seem to remember that the middle step was broken through. He and Maes had busted it when they were moving the new couch in. Maes cracked a joke and Roy laughed so hard that he couldn't hold his end of the furniture, dropping it on the steps. The whole board caved in but it was never fixed probably because of the memory it held. Normally he would skip it and jump right to the top step, but not in his current state of intoxication and so he fell to his hands and knees in front of the door.
With bleary eyes, Roy looked up into the sudden flood of light as the door opened. He squinted trying to bring one Gracia Hughes into focus and from what he could tell, she wasn't happy. Using the door frame to steady himself he stood slowly.
"Haayllo Gracia! Ca-can I come in?" Roy slurred stepping back and spreading his arms wide proclaiming, "I am soooooo fucking lost right now. I-I don't even know where I live."
"Shhhhh Roy, be quiet or you'll wake Elicia. Get in here you idiot." Gracia grabbed Roy's collar and yanked him into the house, closing the door. She went to the kitchen and Roy flopped onto the couch, the step-breaking couch, stretching and yawning.
"Hey, hey, hey, wher- what- why don't you let me see her. Does she miss her Uncle Roy?" He called to the other room.
Gracia snorted. "You need to clean up your act if you ever want to come visit her Roy. She doesn't need an alcoholic for a role model. She needs a father figure, not a drunk." Father figure. If I had done a better job she would have an actual father. Some nights when he crashed at the Hughes' he would fight with Gracia about why he was never interested in investigating Maes' death directly. She knew Roy had loved him like a brother but couldn't understand why Roy didn't want to pursue the killer personally. She certainly wished that it was in her power to skin that homunculus herself. It wasn't comforting at all just to know that Envy killed himself on the Day of Reckoning.
If I had been more attentive to Maes and his work he'd be here, he always thought. It should've been me. I've done enough wrong for the both of us. These thoughts swam through his mind on the regular. Roy intended to impede their swimming with the effect of alcohol. Sometimes it worked to keep his mind at bay, other times, not as well.
She returned from the kitchen and set a glass of water on the coffee table. Roy pulled the blanket from the back of the couch snuggling down into the cushions. "Good night, Roy." He grumbled his reply already being taken by the alcohol induced sleep.
Not a moment after that the phone rang. Roy lazily turned his head to look in the direction of the offending appliance. He could hear Gracia answer it and she was speaking in hushed tones to the caller. Roy's gaze rested on a picture next to the telephone. It was a family picture of Gracia, Maes and Elicia. I'm so sorry Maes. And I haven't even been looking after them. He groaned loudly making a mental note to have another drink in the morning. Whiskey. With that he rolled over onto his side and let his eyes droop and his dreams take over. His dreams always left him fitful and restless. And so there goes another night.
Monday Night
Havoc's house was usually a good bet for Tuesday nights. Tuesday wasn't a great night for dates and even if Jean managed to get a date with a girl, she would most likely bail and Roy would show up to crash at his house. This was a regular occurrence. As was crashing that the Hughes house the night before. Roy didn't know if he wandered to others houses simply because he was actually too drunk to find his own or if subconsciously he did not want to be alone. Either way he hardly ever made it to his own house.
Thank goodness Jean lives on the ground floor, he thought to himself as he pushed the buzzer to his apartment. An unsettling feeling rolled in his stomach as he waited for his former subordinate to answer the door. That night Roy abandoned his usual scotch whiskey on the rocks to take on not one, but two bottles of red wine. Why? He'll never know. The hallway started to spin as that all too familiar nausea began to overtake him.
By the time his friend opened the door, Roy was panting with the effort of concentrating, trying not to vomit, eyes squeezed shut.
"Roy?" Jean pressed cautiously not wanting to disturb Roy's concentration. "How ya doin' buddy?" There was no answer but Roy swayed in place where he stood. "Do you need to use the bathroom?" With barely a nod, Roy dashed past Jean in his wheelchair, into the bathroom, and proceeded to be sick in the toilet.
He sat there with his forehead resting on the toilet seat. How positively disgusting am I? He retched again. Whiskey and red wine don't mix well, he noted. He was sure it felt good at the time. Jean's voice floated into his head as he fought back a heave he knew wouldn't bring anything up. His stomach was empty and his abs were sore.
"Yeah, yeah, he's here. Yeah, of course I'll get his ass up in the morning. If I have to go to work then so does he, damn it! Mmhmm, he is pretty rough tonight, don't know what he drank but it ain't sittin'. Yeah, you too. G'night."
After he hung up the phone, Jean rolled his chair alongside Roy and waited for him to turn to him. Black charcoal eyes looked up to meet bright blues ones and for the first time Roy realized Jean was shirtless and in sweatpants. Roy did wake him up at some crazy early hour of the morning.
He attempted to rise from the floor and found that he needed to lean on Jean's chair for support, one hand on each of the armrests, head hanging. Jean was weary of this position since not a minute ago his friend was vomiting in the toilet and really didn't want him to get sick on him.
Roy's blurred gaze fixed on the scars on Jean's abdomen. Scars that he knew continued through to his back and damaged his spine on the way. Roy had similar scars but a cruel twist of reality allowed him to walk away from that fateful day. Although he had seared both of their wounds from Lust closed, Roy sill blamed himself for his subordinate's injuries and took it quite personally.
Jean sighed, knowing exactly what was going through his former superior's mind. They went through this almost every week, sometimes twice a week. Not one to dwell on the past, Jean would shake it off and ensure Roy that it wasn't his fault, he was just doing his job, and any other statement that would help take the his mind off what happened that day. Tonight Roy seemed content to simply nod his head and brood over the situation. Other nights he would cry or get angry at Jean. It was good to know that his raven-haired friend had some sort of self-control on his emotions sometimes.
Jean led Roy, who practically used the wheelchair as a walker, to the guest bedroom and gave him a shove to get him onto the bed. A grunt came from his friend as he hit the mattress and Jean knew it wouldn't be long before he would be asleep. He returned to his own bed and double checked his alarm to be sure he would be awake in the morning. He now had the responsibility of waking a hung-over Roy Mustang, which was actually quite difficult.
Tuesday Night
One positively drunk Roy Mustang stood swaying outside the apartment building of someone who should otherwise hate him. Winry Rockbell had forgiven Roy a long time ago for the death of her parents. She knew that he hated himself immensely for it. She actually admired that fact that it was so hard for him to deal with it. When she realized that he really beat himself up about it she couldn't bring herself to hate the man, she respected him.
Roy buzzed the #4 on the panel. At least he thought that apartment four was hers. There was no answer and after six or seven buzzes he cursed loudly at the door. It was freezing out here and he was way too far from home and way too drunk to attempt that walk. He was also out of money; his last bit was spent on scotch, so a taxi was out of the question. He slumped to the ground pressing his back against the ice cold brick of the building and resting his head on his knees. Without realizing it Roy fell asleep, the cold wind pulling at his black hair and biting his ears.
"General Mustang?" A voice pulled him from his dreamless sleep. He blinked dry eyes, shivering. He tried to focus on the voice personified. He knew it was Winry, but not because he could see her, not straight at least. Her form doubled and crossed many times before settling on a wider-than-Winry shape with blurry edges. He grunted in response.
She held her hand out to him and he took it knowing that without her help he would fall over. Winry opened the main front door and traversed the single flight of stairs trying not to let Roy fall back down them. Once in her apartment, she dropped her bag down and steered Roy to the couch. He sat heavily, the cushions sagging under his weight.
"I don't know why you do this to yourself, General." She said to him while helping him pull his jacket off. The fabric was stiff from the cold and got caught on his arms. "If this is punishment for yourself, just know that you are hurting more than just you." She hung his coat on a hook in the hallway and brought him a warm, thick blanket in exchange. When Roy had nothing to say about her comment, she went on. "Just think about how E-"
The phone interrupted her scolding and she jogged out of the room to pick it up. "Hello? Yes. He was sleeping outside my apartment tonight. Yeah, he is fine; he is quiet tonight. He is on the couch now. Okay, Good night."
"Never mind what I was saying. Sleep well, General." Winry turned the light off and retired to her own room.
Wednesday Night
"Sir! Stop this. You are making a fool out of yourself!" Riza put the dining room table between them effectively thwarting Roy's advances. At least for a moment, until Roy righted himself after stumbling over a chair Riza had toppled over in his path. They stood opposite each other staring and trying to decipher the other's next move. Riza's sharp eyes battled his lust filled ones. She didn't have her gun on her at the moment and while Roy was thankful, she berated herself for becoming too comfortable in her own home. At the same time, she was assured herself that it was her own house and she deserved to be able relax without having to be armed 24/7.
"Aw come on Riza! It is just a little kiss. Am I that vile?" Gripping the edge of the great oak table, Roy sidled around the bulky, upholstered chairs to get closer to her. "S'not like we haven't kissed before."
This was true. In fact, Roy was Riza's first kiss years ago when Roy was studying fire alchemy under her father. They were close. So close that there where things that he knew about her that no one else alive in this world knew. It was for this reason that she put up with his nonsense when he was drunk. He was there for her when she struggled in her youth, dealing with the abuse from her father. So she would always be there for him, even if the alcohol turned him into an asshole.
Riza had loved him once and he'd loved her but it was not the way that she wanted. The current situation of Roy desiring her was simply the alcohol talking. She knew that quite well. He had told her once that he didn't hook up with people from work and also that he never wanted anything more than just a hook up. She was hurt at first but was content to stay at his side as his most loyal subordinate; a professional relationship only.
"Sir," she cautioned, beyond crushes and loves and now firmly sticking to formalities. "If you keep this up, I'm going to have to hurt you." If he wasn't drunk he would have taken this warning seriously. Instead of backing down he lunged forward the last few steps to her and reached out his arms. Using a simple maneuver using his own weight, Riza threw Roy to the ground, his head making a loud thud on the hardwood floor.
"Ow, Riza. What the hell? That Hurt." She hated when he got whiney, which was often, especially at work.
"You deserved that, Sir. I did give you fair warning." He rolled over and crawled to the nearest chair to hoist himself off the floor. She turned and went to the living room going straight to the roll top desk where she kept one of her handguns hidden. She checked the magazine and the safety then tucked it into her belt.
Riza took a seat on the couch as Roy zig-zagged his way to the large, plush chair on the other side of the room. She was very much the night owl and was more often than not awake when Roy came around from the bars. By the time he got settled into the chair, she had her nose buried in a book, completely ignoring her drunken superior officer.
Frustrated that Riza was not paying attention to him he got up and leaned over quite exaggeratedly to inspect the title on the leather bound spine.
"Romantic. Graphic. Short Stories." He read with some difficulty, squinting his eyes to make out the fuzzy words. Roy snatched the book from her hands and opened to a random page and read aloud the first sentence he could see after his eyes focused on the blurry page.
"'He slowly slid her night gown off her shoulders to reveal soft white breasts coming to small pink peaks.' Oh Riza, this is steamy! I never knew you would be into this kinda thing." With a shit-eating grin on his face, Roy placed his hands on the back of the couch on either side of her head, trapping her. "We can reenact this book if you'd like." His eyes dipped to her chest and he gave her a quick wink.
Riza scowled at him drawing the gun from her belt. He leapt back immediately at the presentation of the weapon. He knew she would fire at him if necessary and even in his drunken state he knew better than to taunt her more.
"I'm sorry." He cowered but she wasn't buying it. She reached for his hand and bent his pinky back until it was sickeningly touching the outside of his forearm. "Ow, ow, ow, ow , please. No! Ow!" Roy cried out and twisted his shoulder to get away from the pain. It was no good. Using the leverage she now held over him, she led him to the guest bedroom, flung him in and slammed the door, smiling inwardly.
She locked her own bedroom door just so she would know he wouldn't bother her later. Roy used to be such a ladies man, dating all the time all kinds of girls and now, now his lifestyle was not doing him a service by turning him into a jerk when he got into the bottle.
Sighing to herself, Riza picked up the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. A man answered.
"The General was difficult tonight, but I think that he is asleep now."
The man apologized to her and she laughed heartily, "He's just lucky I didn't shoot that thing right off him!"
Thursday Night
"Thanks for picking me up, Al." Roy said quietly, shutting the car door to the biting wind outside. To be honest, he actually wasn't that drunk tonight. Well he was drunk, but after his belligerent actions the night before and the result of them, he kept quiet. It was completely undignified to hear the click of the lock on Riza's door after she had manhandled him into submission, not a position he was used to.
He had been a real jerk and the heavy weight of embarrassment laid on him this morning like an elephant. He could only pull a few flashes from his memory. One of which he was on the floor and in the other, he was really close to his friend's face saying something rather rude.
Work that day was painful both physically and mentally. To add to the skull splitting headache he had most mornings nowadays, the lieutenant, who was always professional in the way of addressing him, downright ignored him while going about her tasks. In a way this was good for him as there was no one to prod him along to do his work; he looked out the window and took a cat nap, which was very much needed, whenever he liked.
Watching the lamp posts zip by, Roy rested his head on the cool glass of the window. He wanted to believe that a night like last night wouldn't happen again but he knew as long as he drank, there would be nights like those. He sighed rather loudly and stretched back into the passenger's seat and took up the task of inspecting a spot on the ceiling of Alphonse's car.
Al stole a quick glance at the general. "Uh, Sir? Are you feeling alright? You seem quiet." Normally at this point the general would give a relentless, in depth account of his night at the bar, his tale usually concerning a woman and how easy it was for him to seduce her. Al was unsettled at his silence and thought perhaps for once this drinking streak was taking its toll on the man.
"Yeah. Of course I'm fine. I'm living the life, ya know? Al, why don't you ever come out with me? I could introduce you to some pretty girls."
"I'm seventeen, Sir. Even if I could drink, I wouldn't. Plus I've got Winry, I don't need any other pretty girls." Al was grinning at the thought of Winry. He couldn't wait to take her out to dinner tomorrow night.
"Oh right. You probably wouldn't want to hang out with me anyway." Roy sulked. "No one wants to. No one really cares about me." The sudden onset of depression made Al pull a face as Roy sat next to him, arms crossed and pouting like a child.
"That's not true." Al stated, but neither of them said anymore on the subject. "Am I taking you to your house or mine?" He asked since they were at an intersection where he'd have to go one way or the other.
"Yours please. I don't want to be alone tonight."
"Of course."
Later that night when Roy was all tucked in and fast asleep on Al's couch with a furry ball of warmth weighing on his chest, Al picked up the phone. He watched the breathing of the sleeping form on the couch as he waited for an answer on the other end of the line.
"Hello?" The voice laced with concern.
"Hey, Brother. The general is here tonight."
Thanks for reading. :) You may have noticed I've mixed events from both the 2003 and 2009 anime for ultimate depression. Sorry Royboy Hopefully the next chapter will be available by next weekend. Shameless plus for reviews. Cheers!
