"Yo."

Cain Fury looked up, emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. "How do you manage to be so goddamn chipper all the time!"

The object of his wrath blinked and scratched at a bit of sticking plaster on his cheek. "Fury, it's called drugs. Mind altering substances tend to do something like that to people."

"Go somewhere else and be happy. You're impinging on my right to sulk."

No reaction. Didn't expect one really. Morphine did have a tendency to knock soldiers slightly goofy. Even...

Heh. That was funny. The one and only time he had seen Colonel Mustang drugged up... well... it was amusing. And that was an understatement.

He realized he was smirking (which was not something he did in public; that would lead to some very embarrassing questions) when the blonde began to look at him strangely. "Fury? You okay?"

"No. I'm tired."

The taller man stiffly leaned over. "Is that all? You've been to a medic haven't you?"

Fury impatiently slapped his hand away. "Lieutenant Havoc, would you please find somewhere quiet to rest so you don't pass out? Let other people do the worrying for once. I'll be fine, but if you don't rest, you won't!"

He knew that had hurt the man. It was obvious. He felt like a monster for doing it to the sweet and uncomplicated ball of unconditional loyalty and worry. But it had to be done. Havoc could make those injuries worse by fussing over soldiers like some ridiculous mother hen.

Wait – why was he trying to justify himself? Havoc was injured. Havoc needed rest. Havoc probably wouldn't rest until all of his soldiers were taken care of or somebody got the nerve up to tie him down to a chair and knock him out cold.

Except there Havoc was, mumbling out an apology and turning away. Damn. Was that a limp! Maybe he shouldn't have forced him away.

"Lieutenant Havoc!" Someone else stole Havoc's attention before he could. Jealousy flared up instantaneously. Some tiny portion of his brain (saved over from when he was about five) started throwing a temper tantrum. Mine, mine minemineminemineminemine mine!

Dammit!

Now Fury was pissed. An educational emotion, if quite rare for him. He was usually too mild, to meek, and too rigidly sane to indulge in that emotion. But hell, he had just scraped out of a hellish battle, his crush was injured pretty badly...

Wait. Crush? More like love of his life, as horrible as that cliché may have been. And everyone always wondered why he treated the lieutenant like some stray dog he found scratching at his door.

MINE.

Now thoroughly pissed, Fury marched up to Havoc and pulled on the back of his shirt. "Sir? At the risk of being annoyingly repetitive, I must ask that you sit down and stay still. You're going to reopen something like this."

Havoc flashed a grateful smile down at him. "Yessir."

Fury glared over at the Sergeant. "All right, you. I don't want anyone bothering the Second Lieutenant until word comes in from HQ unless it's a dire emergency, got that?"

Slightly startled by the cranky Sergeant Major, the other one nodded and fled.

"You're scary," Havoc commented.

"Only when people keep bugging someone I care about." He shot a sideways glance at the bigger man. "Are you bleeding?"

Havoc blinked. "Er... maybe?"

"Oh, for..." Fury got rather forceful when injuries were involved, anyone could have told Havoc that. Except he never really thought to ask. Silly, silly Havoc.

"Are you still under the influence of the morphine?"

"Huh?"

That was as good as a 'yes' in Fury's book. "Right then, sit down and let me look at your injuries. Field dressings done by you are totally worthless."

"... hey!"

Fury kept talking over the bigger man's emphatic protestations. "Sure, they're good for the moment, but they're so sloppy..."

Havoc yelped when the bandaged peeled off his side.

"... and you're bleeding again! Honestly, can't you take care of yourself?"

"Fury?"

"What!"

"You're scary."

"And you're suffering from bloodloss, so can it!"

Something suspiciously close to a whimper reached his ears as he probed delicately around scarred and lacerated flesh. Truth be told, it was cute coming from such a rough-and-tumble man.

"Sorry."

"Ow!"

"I said I was sorry."

"Fury, you're being mean to me on purpose, I know it."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"You little sneak! You did that on purpose!"

"Huh?" Havoc's face split into a grin. "Oh. That. Well, it's easier for me to ignore when someone's poking at me if I'm distracted." He reached out to ruffle Fury's hair.

"Jean, just take it easy, okay? I'm not fond of the idea of losing you."

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looks around- Did someone say cotton candy? Yeesh, it's fluffy AND sappy. Hence, the slightly facetious nomen of 'cotton candy'. Or, at least, it's fluffy and sappy in my opinion. Which means I'd probably die from a sugar-induced coma if I ever encountered real sap.

Written with respect and love towards Spades 44 because the last Havoc/Fury drabble was a true gem. Sweet, sad, bitter. Highly recommended. (love)