Author's Note(s): To answer LilAngel12558's question: Either works. I may ask a friend, or I may take certain requests from reviewers. If it's a reviewer providing the number count, then I'd also like a specific coupling (maybe not from the same reviewer! Oh, snap!) so I don't spend a good deal of my time, wandering about messenger, bombarding my friends with, "GIVEMEAFMACOUPLING!" message. Though I may do that just for personal kicks, haha. 814 words it'll be.

This particular story is: 1182 words, Hughes x Roy. Once more provided by Tia.

Disclaimer: Afore-noticed, I don't own FMA in any shape or form, nor do I have any particular ownership over the characters. Alas.

The demons had returned.

Roy Mustang. A soldier fresh from the bakery of the military, as chaste to death as the young Elric brothers. His mission: to remove all forms and figures of resistance, with or without casualties. What was another death to the government anyway? They were mere pawns, after all, struggling against the uprising of a powerful force that would better the world in different means. Who were these toys to try to decide otherwise?

A dog to the military. Struggling through the ruins and bare bones of buildings, he came across a lone figure, trembling in utter terror as a pup discovered his refuge. Regarding the seated fellow, Roy made no slip of action, simply observing the male's strike of horror as he cowered and quaked to the breath of death provided before him. Then, without warning, he lifted a rifle with careful aim, though his hands quivered and shook, preventing what would be an accurate shot.

Butpanic reflected from the Alchemist's eyes as his hand lifted defensively, ready to produce a lethal flame that would consume his opponent. Wordless, senseless creation, they gaped at one another, waiting, stalling...

Then a scream! Roy's voice echoed to the man's as warmth engulfed the cramped room, his gaze wide with shock as the fire raped his saboteur, his voice pitched with shrieks of absolute pain and eternal misery. Yet Roy could not release his alarm as he joined the chorus, his entire figure a series of trembling though the crime had been completed. Thus, he watched in agonized awe as flesh pealed from bone, melting into miniscule flakes, exposing the layers of raw muscle beneath before eating through. Nothing could cease the process now; He was dying.

Abruptly, through the blaze, two hands twisted a grasp around Roy's levitated wrist, burning, seething, tearing into his flawless skin as a skeletal grin beamed up at him.

"You killed me..." it seethed, a tongue raking along the rows of jagged teeth, pulling Roy near. "You killed me!" The alchemist produced another howl as he struggled, batting a hand against the flat forehead of the skull. But nothing would liberate the dying man's grip as he strangled bone for pain, despite his murderer's opposition. Jaws opening wide, his hands crept up the length of Roy's arm, gripping his shoulders as he pulled the male from his feet. Closer, and closer yet his mouth drew near, projecting breaths of rancid breath, teeth gashing, mashing, prepared to tear and rip meat.

"You killed me as I'm going to kill you--!"

Roy woke with a start, nearly tumbling from his chair as his figure vibrated against the wooden structure. Instinctively, he glanced wearily about, surprised and yet bemused to discover himself in his office, fortunately alone. Cold beads of sweat dotted his face, and after brief hesitation, he mopped his forehead and dropped his visage into the expanse of his hands.

A dream; Nay, a nightmare. A terrible, endless nightmare that still plagued him no matter what he did. It had gradually escalated, first from the mere cries of the male now to what appeared to be the living dead. Did he, Roy Mustang, honestly fear his for-longed victim would return in death and misery to see him through?

"Maybe... I'm going crazy," he murmured as he closed his eyes with a slight sigh.

"Afraid not. You've always been a touch crazy," a voice protested as the familiar grace of his door idling closed roused his attention. Glancing from his temporary sanctuary, he briefly regarded Maes Hughes as he provided Roy with an equal look. Then a slight grin touching his lips, the subordinate wandered forward and leaned against the desk. "You look as though you've seen a ghost, chief."

"Hughes, haven't you heard of knocking?" Roy inquired with a failed hike of his eyebrow, the male making an obvious attempt to clean himself of what anguish previously plagued him.

"If I had knocked, I wouldn't have been able to catch you all dewy-eyed," Hughes retorted with a smug smile, enlightening his features considerably. Roy's gaze narrowed in slight before he turned away from him, attention deliberately averted. Flecks of white rained from the sky, the heavens pregnant with a promised snow-fall. Before morning, the ground would be suffocated in a landscape of white.

"Nonsense, I was not--" Hughes hand suddenly caught beneath Roy's chin, the male dangerously close. He had rounded about the desk to join his superior officer in absent resolve to the awaiting scenery, but could hardly stand the glance of misery that still hinted at the alchemist's face.

"I may not be Riza, but it's okay to cry," he murmured quietly, smile vacant from his expression. A moment of silence was exchanged between the two before Roy once again redirected his attention, unable to maintain eye contact with his company.

"I don't need to cry, Maes." Yet the words had hardly left his mouth as a foreign caress of lips touched his own, Hughes' hand briefly lost within the luscious, onyx tendrils. Then deliberating further action, the doting father left it at that, merely pressing his forehead against his companion's in a weak attempt to sooth his worry.

"Then don't look like you need to cry, chief," he remarked in a hushed tone, then bent to steal another kiss. Unfortunately, interruption inevitable, a series of angered jeers erupted from the awaiting corridor, and Hughes chanced a glance toward the door as he straightened with a slight sigh. Shame, he had forgotten why he had come into Roy's office in the first place.

"Ed's demanding to talk to you," he explained in brief as a hand combed through his hair, then idly scratched at his throat. "He's been raving ever since he came back from the station. Something about a no-good, rotten, skirt-chasing Colonel." A heartbeat skipped for an instant as Roy gave it debate before he turned back to his window with a knit of his eyebrows.

"I don't want to see Fullmetal--"

"Would you rather look at more pictures of my darling, baby Elysia?" Hughes asked rather selectively as he extracted a said picture from his jacket. "Oh, my beautiful, bouncing angel! I just can't get over how cute-"

"Fullmetal it is!" Leaving no opportunity to be further exposed to Hughes and his daughter-complex, Roy made for the door and disappeared into theconvenient hallway beyond. Without delay, Edward's voice immediately rose in questionably anger, providing Hughes with a moment of entertainment as he cast a glance to the photo.

"Just give it time, chief... You'll heal," he murmured to the sleep-captivated Colonel portrayed in the image, oblivious to a lingering admirer who had captured the moment for eternity. Thus, tucking it away for safe-keeping, Hughes retreated into the corridor, wanting nothing more than to observe what would be another classic conflict between the Alchemists.

And another one bites the dust.