Gleam
Jean lay bonelessly across the rumpled sheets, rubbing the palm of his right hand. Roy smiled at the sight β he had forgotten how damnably adorable the man was.
"You're staring," Jean said lazily.
"Am not!" he retorted.
"Are too. Make yourself useful and get me some coffee."
"Presumptuous...!"
"Go on." Jean rolled over and gave Roy the full benefit of his Class One Smile. The one that he knew full-well was Jean's ticket to... aw, hell.
"Do I have to?" He was perfectly aware that he was whining now, but he didn't give a damn.
"You'd probably better be dressed, too. Ed's coming home soon. It'll be messy if heβ"
Roy silenced him with a kiss. "You never know, he may want to join."
"That hurts."
He backed up hastily, realizing that he had been leaning on Jean's injuries. "Those really should be healed by now, Jean. They did an analysis on β"
"I know, I know," the blonde said, smiling. "I'm just slow to heal sometimes. Hawkeye's still got some healing to do, too. Things like these don't heal quickly."
"Two months, Jean. Two months!"
"And I'm sure that you've been drooling over him for the duration of those months," Ed's voice said dryly from the doorway. "What the hell are you doing to him, you pervert?"
"Since when has Ed had keys!" Roy demanded from Jean, slightly hurt.
"Ever since you dumped him on my lap."
Ed stalked over, not too happy about the turn of events. A manic light gleamed red in his eyes. "Shove off, Mustang."
"No."
"Yes." Ed bent over and landed a very possessive kiss on the older blonde's lips. Kisses brushed down his neck and over his shoulder, where a tongue began to smooth over the angry red scars. It all amounted to one sentiment: mine.
