Disclaimer: I don't own that FMA and I sing it in my own way!

Just Like This

"It's raining," Colonel Roy Mustang told his subordinate as he looked at the tombstone before him.

The bright sun warmed his uniform and made sweat collect in the small of his back but that was only outside of his skin. Inside he was a typhoon of sorrow and hatred, of guilt and confusion, of pain and of despair. Even with loyal Hawkeye standing watch over him was his eyes welled up, he knew these were emotions he could and never would share, even with her. Roy wanted to run, to hide, to rip apart and to scream all at once, but strangely enough he welcomed these emotions greedily.

He coveted these tangle pieces of proof that his love for Maes Hughes was very real; something he questioned all these years after Ishbal. Was it real or just the need to feel something other than blood in his hands? Roy had tossed and turned over the many nights they were wrapped together in feral passion. At the time they brushed it off as something that just needed to be done for both their sanities' sake, to replace and erase the heat from the blazing battles with the heat of their longing bodies.

It was only a cautionary task to keep them both mentally fit for battle. That is what they told themselves as well as each other, but that excuse stopped being acceptable the many times afterwards when peace was abroad and Gracia was his wife.

It was wrong.

It was unexplainable.

It was inexcusable.

It was so incredibly undeniably wrong.

It was love, and Roy now had his proof.

"Let's get back," Roy said, finally conceding to that he had stood there too long.

Distant white birds drifted and sailed on the wind. They reminded Roy of snowflakes somehow, as they seemed to fly sideways in floating tilts. Unable to think of any other excuse to leave, he claimed it was getting too cold, even though he was sweating through his undershirt. Hawkeye accepted his statement without comment, but that's only to be expected of such a woman as Hawkeye. She did not need him to speak the words he thought for she could hear them all too well in the silence and excuses.

How much of this does she know already?

Roy pushed that thought aside as well as any indication that his heart was broken to go about what needed to be done. He would find Hughes's killer, even if it cost him his goal.

He would kick my ass if he could hear my thoughts right now. I wouldn't even mind, as long as he was here to do it instead of in the ground.

The door to his apartment loomed before him much later in its pitiful beige and grungy glory. It taunted and teased him saying things like, "You know once you come in, you'll never want to face the world again," and, "Why don't you just go? It's not like you'll find solace in here tonight."

He grinded his teeth and stabbed the keys into their slot, effectively silencing the door like a knife to flesh. He twisted the key as his mind slipped into a memory. It was a cold night...

Roy twisted the knife into the man's side, effectively slicing into the base of his lung. He lowered the white haired man to the ground and pulled the blade free. Normally he would never get so close as to be able to smell the death seeping from his victims pours but Roy had long since run out of ammo and his gloves were torn. Roy had reacted with instincts that were drilled into him again and again since his early teens at the academy. Back then it was stab and twist, stab and twist, stab and twist. The simplicity of the repetition made it less of a morally wrong act and more of a reflex.

Roy gave the knife a flick to his side, spattering the blood into the ground. Yes, he was trained well, a pure bred dog of refined skills best used to serve his master. Roy often wondered that if he quit tomorrow, was there any other occupation he could pursue? After all, an old dog cannot learn new tricks.

"But, I'm not old," Roy said to no one as he stepped over a different body.

He may not be old in years, but he was old in experience. The war had seen to that.

All his men were dead now and he was alone in the middle of yet another destroyed city. His uniform was tattered and flapped in the icy air. He hated the desert nights and their shocking bitter winds. Roy hastily pulled out his spare gloves from their hidden pocket and put them on, leaving the old ones to rot along with the corpses. His shirt was almost completely gone in the front and Roy knew without a fire he would freeze to death before dawn. He needed to hold out until they came to get him since the maps were gone. The fire would also insure that his location was visible.

Without much thought and with much practiced ease, he set the bodies of the Ishbalans ablaze. Broken house beams and tables were mere kindling to the roaring wall of fire he created. Roy watched them reach up high and higher, seeking connection with the sky in a desperate attempt to touch the face of god. He was truly in hell now. It was hard not to believe in such a place when one kept the company of the dead on a regular basis.

Roy rummaged around for more things to add to his blazing companion when he stumbled across their company's white and blue banner. It was roughly intact and still attached to its pole. Roy lifted it to toss into the fire and stopped short, burning the flag would only give the fire only brief a moment longer of life than without. Roy didn't perceive it as worth the effort it would take to throw the banner so he leaned it against one of the few remaining walls.

"How patriotic of you," said a voice he didn't expect to hear.

Maes Hughes, looking less tattered but still weathered stepped out from behind a large rock and silently made his way over to Roy's salvaged flag. He picked it up and it immediately caught the harsh wind and flared out to its complete length, straining against it pole induced confinement.

Maes smiled tiredly and strained his arm into an awkward attempt to look like a colour party member. He must have been injured since he favoured his left side instead of standing straight. "Would you look at that? This old thing still has hope."

Roy blanched at the statement then shoved his hands into what was left of his pockets. "What are you doing here Hughes?"

"Looking for you. They were too short manned to arrange a search party and the skirmishes are keeping everyone occupied. I was able to get permission to check this quadrant for survivors. I'm guess you're the only one?" Maes's face grew cold as he peered around at the bodies Roy had yet to add to his battlefield funeral pyre.

Roy looked into the orange blaze and said, "Are you surprised? Once again, they gave their lives for me. These men, these boys, were given the task to watch my back so that I could save them all, but where they succeeded... I failed. Now there is no one left to watch my back nor does it deserve watching."

Roy turned completely away from his sometimes friend, sometimes lover and every time conscious. It was always Maes's voice in his head, telling him right from wrong, speaking though the military brainwashing and helping him be more human.

Roy knelt down and picked up some more wreckage to throw into his fire, no longer caring what it was, or if it was even flammable. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and turned to face the man who went with that hand.

"Don't turn around, just stand up. I won't be able to say this if you look at me." Maes's voice held an odd quality, like he wasn't sure if he should be saying the next words or not.

Roy obeyed without question, for his conscious knew best and Maes embodied that even when in body instead of Roy's mind. Something in Roy's fire cracked and a large wave of smoke encased them as it quickly rushed between them in the strong wind. Roy closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the fierce display of nature embrace him. He could hear the flag still flapping loudly, trying in vain to escape this war, but it was trapped, just like the rest of them.

Maes pressed his back against Roy's with just enough pressure to tell Roy he was there and not topple him over under the weight. Maes's voice was just as gentle as his presence. "This flag... this flag has hope for us all, like I have hope for you. You are not the monster you think Roy. I believe in you like I believe that one day this will be a distant nightmare that we will remember, but only vaguely as an act of evil necessary for everyone else to live normal happy lives. You and I? We're heroes."

Roy let his head drop and snickered. It was completely inappropriate and wholly insane sounding, but the laugher would not be deterred. "Heroes Maes? And here I thought those were people who protected the weak and fought the wicked. I'm no hero Maes because there are children in that pyre; small, helpless and afraid but now burning. What kind of hero burns children?"

A hand found its way into his and Roy laced his fingers through the others. Maes gripped him and pressed more firmly against his back. "The kind that will rise to the top so that no other hero will be forced to perform such an act again. We are dogs before anything else and dogs need watching. So here's the deal, you keep your eye on your goal and I will watch your back will pushing you up. I will be your hero so you can be everyone else's."

"That's the most fucked up thing I think you've ever said," Roy sighed ruefully.

Maes made circles on the back of his hand and said, "Well the fucked up lines are the most memorable. I'm making sure you don't forget."

Roy replied in a strained tone, indicating the carnage around them, "I doubt I'll ever forget this."

Maes turned him around and looked deeply into his eyes, "I'm making sure you don't forget me. My faith in you is absolute and without conditions. So remember that when things get dark and you don't think you can do it anymore. I'll still believe in you then."

Roy distinctly remembered seeing the white dragon on the flag as it fell from Maes's hand into the fire. The taller man cupped his cheeks and brought him in for a light kiss in the night, the smoke from the banner surrounding them both.

"Do you still have faith in me now?" Roy asked as he opened his door and walked into his apartment.

"I never stopped."

Roy pulled his eyes away from his cloak of which he was about to hang up and dropped it in shock. There were legs visible on his bed in the room at the end of the hall. Roy pushed himself down that hall and into the room with a feverish dash. On the rumbled white sheets was not the matured and noble Maes Hughes he had just said goodbye to for the last time, but the young and tattered one he remembered from that night in Ishbal.

Maes sat up and drew his feet together like a child. His boots left dusty trails on the pristine sheets. "Hey Roy, you look pale. Are you alright?"

He didn't trust his voice or even his actions, so he just stood there in shock and waited for some calamitous event to happen. Long moments dragged by like rakes through the sand, turning it over pointlessly for nothing can grow in pure sand. The silence was just as futile but Roy could think of anything else to do.

Maes sighed and slid of the bed. The mattress moving slightly and Roy jumped. He had expected this apparition to be just that, an apparition. They have no matter to impress on any surface so Maes must be...

Roy abruptly asked, "Are you real?"

Maes winked at him, "Are you?"

He shook his pant-skirt and coughed in the small cloud of soot and dust it made. Even over a decade younger, Maes still had a good half a foot on him in height.

"Roy, don't just stand there like a fish with your mouth open. Take my hand." Maes head it out in front of him with a warm smile on his face.

Roy stared at in and tired to think of how and why both he couldn't concentrate over his savagely beating heart. Like a child he blurted out what was on the foremost of his mind without prompting or thought. "I love you."

Maes did not change his smile nor lower his hand. "I know."

"No, I've loved you since the start," Roy said quickly, needing Maes to understand although he wasn't certain why he didn't think Maes did already.

"I know," he replied again.

Roy's resolve was crumbling like wet soil and his voice began to tremble. "No, no you don't! I never told you, not once!"

Maes took one step forward. "I know."

"How? How could you know! I never said a fucking thing! Not once, not once, not once," Roy yelled. His eyes spilled over in hot tears and he marvelled at how angry he was. The stress of the day was taxing on his ability to hold the torrents of emotion in.

Strong arms wrapped around his own, engulfing Roy in a warm hug. "I know Roy. Just because you have this stupid notion that people only know what you tell them doesn't mean I can't see past that. I know you love me, just like I know that I love you."

Roy wrapped his hands around Maes's lower back and buried his face in his shoulder. "Then why didn't you say anything?"

Maes ran one hand up through the back of his hair. "Would you have honestly listened then?"

The thick fingers combed through his black locks soothingly and Roy completely lost it. Hard, full body sobs wracked through his narrow frame and he gripped his friend tightly, afraid he may fade away any moment. The very real fabric clenched in his hands kept him grounded as his world spun round and round.

"You see? I always told you keeping things like this buried deep isn't good, but did you believe me?" Maes pulled back and grabbed him chin to tilt his head back. He grip was firm but his eyes remained the soft green colour of windblown fields. "Of course not; you are the 'Great Flame Alchemist' and answer to no man."

His thumb glided up and wiped the last of Roy's tears. Roy panted and sniffed, completely spent but feeling a tiny bit better. He leaned into the hand for a moment before taking it in his own and placing a shuddering kiss on Mae's knuckles. "That's not true. I answered to one man..."

Roy dragged his lips around the hand, turning it over to kiss Maes's palm. His body felt weak from the immense despair he had just sobbed out, but that didn't stop his tongue from sneaking out and darting across Maes's wrist.

Roy unbuttoned what was left of Maes's cuff, intently watching his own work because he was afraid to meet the man's eyes.

"Are you a dream?" Roy asked with much hesitation.

He half expected some silly reply about him losing his mind but it never came. Roy looked up and saw the deep thoughts written across Maes's face.

Maes spoke with slow, deliberate words. "I don't know and I don't want to. I'm here now and I think we should just focus on that."

The hand in Roy's hair drifted to the base of his neck, travelling steadily around to the front and down where it began undoing his jacket clasps. Roy watched in fascination as his uniform fell to the floor one piece at a time. Bare from the waist up, Roy took Maes's hand and drew him to the bed. Maes came easily using his other hand to start in on his own shirt buttons. Roy took his other hand also and used them to turn Maes around to sit on the bed.

Guided slowly and silently, Maes sat down, never breaking the eye contact. Roy looked down to free Maes's torn shirt from his pants and undid the remaining buttons. He could feel the younger man's breath moving his hair.

"Roy?"

"Hmm?" Roy stopped undoing Maes's belt to look up.

"Don't wake up... I don't want to die."

Maes was looking to the side with a sad expression that Roy sought to eradicate immediately. His earlier feelings of weak sorrow were replaced with the desperate need to prove that Maes was right there in front of him. Roy rose from his crouch and looked down at Maes for a moment in contemplation. He then put both hands on Maes's shoulders and pushed his open shirt back to expose his darker skinned chest. Roy leaned forward while pushing Maes back onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

He laid all his weight on Maes, tucking his head into Maes's neck. Despite that this Maes was younger than him by more than ten years, Roy was still smaller.

He whispered against Maes's neck, "I'd stay asleep forever if it meant you'd be mine."

The mood turned from slow and sensual to rough and demanding. Maes flipped them over so that he was on top with Roy facing up. Maes gave him a hard look before diving into a deep kiss that Roy felt through his whole body, especially in between his legs. Maes snaked his arms under Roy and held him tight, kissing deeper all the while. Roy groaned and grinded up against him and then pulled Maes down to meet his ready body.

Roy grabbed the back of Maes's knee with his calve and tipped him over to roll on top. Straddling Maes's hips, Roy sat back to take in the view. Maes's shirt was still on and had somehow moved back to cover his shoulders. Roy rectified this by opening the shirt as much as possible and placing feathery kisses upon his abs. Maes made a small almost inaudible sound that made Roy's toe practically curl.

The feather kisses changed into wet licks with phrases thrown in between. "I missed you – missed this – after Elysia everything changed – I know I agreed – but – It didn't make it – any easier – for me."

Roy's tongue retreated back into his mouth and Maes moaned in disappointment but it quickly changed to a subtle growl when Roy removed his belt. Roy was never one for talking during sex, but he couldn't stop.

He opened Maes's pants and released the hot and sticky lust within. Maes gasped as the cool air hit him and Roy drank in the noise. He slipped off the bed and removed Mae's boots without ceremony. Maes then helped by taking off his pants while Roy toed off his own boots after unlacing them. Roy's pants sailed through the air to join Maes's discarded boots but Roy was back on the bed before they even landed.

Maes was stripped of his shirt to leave them both naked and panting on the dirty bed. Maes looked down at his soot stained limbs in apology. "They were exposed to the air?"

Roy just took Maes's cock in his hand and gave it a mild squeeze as if to say, 'Do you think I care at this point?'

Maes thrust up into his palm to answer, 'Then let's do this.'

They moved to the center of the bed and kicked off the blankets so they wouldn't be in the way. Roy straddled Mae's thighs and ran his teeth over his shoulder while his hands made good use of themselves. With one he caressed Maes's inseam with his knuckles and with the other he lifted Maes's balls, rolling them back and forth.

Maes Put his hand behind him in attempts to like his hips but Roy quickly pushed him down, saying, "Let me enjoy you a bit first."

Maes smiled through a groan and took off his glasses to place on the night stand. Roy moved forward and placed a kiss on his temple. Simultaneously, Maes took his palm and teased the tip of Roy's cock with it. Roy bucked automatically and moved his kisses to Maes's neck. When Roy sucked Maes's earlobe the younger man switched from teasing to pumping, so Roy decided to return the favour.

The room was a heat box and Roy wasn't sure who came first but it didn't matter for they were rolling together only a moment after the communal climaxes. Hard again and starving for more, their hunger was roused beyond satiation of one mere round. Roy frantically reached into his nightstand and triumphantly pulled out a dusty jar of lube. While it was true he slept with a lot of woman and was no stranger to the sexual world, only one man had ever been Roy's partner in that bed. Maes seemed to be thinking along the same lines because instead of eagerly opening the jar, he sat back with a depressed look.

He ran his hands through his tussled hair and said, "I'm sorry."

Roy's grin faltered and he laid the jar down to crawl over to Maes. He wasn't even all the way there when Maes grabbed him into a complete body meshing together hug with Roy on the bottom.

"I'm sorry I abandoned you after everything. I guess pushing someone up is harder than being the one in front."

"Forget that and live in the moment with me," Roy pleaded, unwilling to see beyond the next half hour.

Maes smelled his hair and slowly ground himself into Roy's hip. Roy complied and twisted his body so their erections met.

"It's not like you to," Maes groaned, "run away." I'm not going to be here forever.

Roy snatched the jar and placed it in his hands. "There'll be enough life to put up with later. I want you now." While we still have time together.

Roy lay on his back and looked up through the window behind him. The stars glistened above faintly, which in itself was a rarity because the city lights normally blocked them out. Maes strokes his hair while leaning against the windowpane.

"So," he said to the glass, "got anything to drink in this place?"

Roy sat up quickly and winced. It seems his body forgot what it was like to have a male lover.

"I'm taking advantage of a situation here so bear with me." Maes smirked and pushed him back down. "Why don't you catch up on your rest old man and I'll fetch the drinks."

Roy glared and shouted, "Who are you calling so old he needs to sleep after sex or he'll throw out his hip! I'm limber as you sure as fuck know Maes!"

"Yep, you are definitely sick. Too much 'bean' exposure can do that too a man." Maes froze at the edge of the bed. His posture became ridged and he looked over his shoulder. "Do the boys know yet?"

Roy looked back at the stars and said, "No, they left on a train to Rush Valley the same day. They don't know."

"Good, if I could have it my way, they would never know."

Maes got up and headed to the corner of the room where Roy kept his liquor cabinet.

Something occurred to Roy and he bolted up again, trying not to wince too obviously. "Maes, how is it you have knowledge of the Elric's and even your own death, but you're the you I know from the war?"

Maes was crouched in front of the small cabinet, naked and completely still.

Roy grew worried when he didn't move for what felt like an eternity but in actuality it was closer to a minute. "Maes?"

Maes answered in a soft, distant voice that was both eerie and calm. "I'm like this because you dreamed of me this way."

"What?"

Maes didn't react in anyway, just continued to look blankly into the cabinet. "You're out of scotch."

Roy scrambled to the edge of the bed and slipped off to crouch by Maes. He reached out his hand to touch the bare shoulder but Maes quickly turned towards him and smirked.

"I guess next time you'll owe me a drink," was the last thing Maes ever said to Roy as reality slammed him awake.

"Sir? Are you alright? I heard a noise," Hawkeye explained quickly. Roy barely registered the gun she was aiming slowing around the room, looking for assassins in every corner.

Roy felt like shit and from the look on Hawkeye's face she thought the same. She holstered her pistol quietly. "I came by to pick you up for work and maybe grab some breakfast Sir. Excuse my brazenness but I think you need proper taking care of until... for the time being. The information you requested from yesterdays talk with Major Armstrong. We can go over it in the car."

Hawkeye left the living room that Roy never remembered sitting in until he saw the two glasses of scotch on the table.

Had it all been only some drunken dream?

Roy stood up and straightened his hair with his fingers. Yes, it may have been some elaborate fantasy concocted by his grief and loneliness, but Roy knew one thing for sure. As long as he had enough scotch for two glasses, he would never be drinking alone. He would set out a glass for Maes, just like this, and pray that he might have another fantasy.

A/N: I was reading a lot of doujin today and I couldn't fight the bunnies with their fangs in my calves.

This one is rather explicit and sad, a combination I can't seem to separate. I don't have much else to say other than I now have a fic title beginning with J, my alphabet will soon be complete. Mwahahahahahaha!

Oh and I want to thank my dear Gnomie who laughed outright when I got a nosebleed while writing this. The irony was almost as bad as her lack of concern for her spontaneously hemophiliac pal. I guess that's what I get for goading her while she's trying to meet a deadline already passed in all timezones lol.

I'm not a demon for kicks and squeals after all... wait yes I am... Thanks for reading! --runs--

-rix the demon