Hate and Respect

Author: Hoshiki

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Arakawa Hiromu. The fanfiction belongs to me. (C)

Warning: Yaoi, if this isn't your cup of tea, please by all means, turn back. Flamers are retards, encompassing a really low IQ equivalent that that of a glass of water... less, in fact. The back button exists because Microsoft happened to realize the need for it for specific people.

Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist

Pairing: Kimbley x Roy

Summary: Roy finds himself cornered in a shower, but he stands his ground to the very end.

Note: I prefer to refer to Kimbley in a more impersonal manner because it's more intimidating this way... either by his title, or family name. But man, is this guy yaoi material or what! Mm... roaming hands. (Gargle)

It unnerved him.

Nights like these were often spent in solitude. It was quiet, somewhat a mocking challenge to all that blood and gore they faced in the daytime. Roy Mustang considered himself a hardened, weathered soldier, just like everyone else on the field, who fought to live and go home to see another day with their loved ones. They claimed that it was a necessary evil; that it was obligatory, and Roy never questioned that. He did once, and paid well for it.

There were, however, times when he reflected on that. This night was one of them.

Roy had decided to avoid the others' company after the day's activity. It was silly, he knew, because none of them would try to annoy him when they saw such a grim expression (except Maes of course, but that man didn't need comprehension or logic to be understood), but he found himself unable to look anyone in the eye. It had been a burdensome thing. And, not only that…

He closed his eyes, relief washing over as he felt the cool water splashing down on his hair and back.

Roy didn't like being stared at. He felt victimized, but to hell if he was going to admit it to everyone just like that.

"Bastard…"

"Tch, tch, tch… Never thought such ugly words could come from something so pretty."

Roy jumped. What the hell—

"Oh, did I shock you?" something about that grin was feral, but Roy couldn't put his finger in it. The man standing before him was simply like everyone else – a soldier. They'd all had their share of kills. Still…

"I was a little surprised, yes," dark eyes shifted uncomfortably while he tried to even his voice. "What brings you here?"

Wrong question. The other man's feral grin grew somewhat demonic. Golden eyes shamelessly swallowed the sight before them, seemingly having a life of their own. He walked closer to Roy, who desperately felt like inching back into the stall, but no. He wouldn't.

He stood there, his chin up, looking forward, but past the Crimson Alchemist, to the wall behind him. Water tumbled down the back of his hair and to the shoulders, streaming down his face. For a moment, he cursed the water and cursed his weakness – standing there not only wet and gloveless, but naked and vulnerable as well. He bit down a choked gasp as a hand gripped his chin and tilted his face upwards.

"Would you like to know?" Kimbley leaned forward to blow into his ear.

Roy gritted his teeth to suppress a shiver. "No, thank you," he managed to ground out.

"Aww… why ever not?"

Because I hate you.

"Because I'm not interested to know, Kimbley. Now let go." It was a direct order; he wasn't going to back down like some small animal being cornered by a hunter, even if he was, in a sense.

"But you asked me why I came here." Roy wasn't surprised when Kimbley held on. "At the very least, you could let me answer your question, Flame."

"And at the very least, you could let go. Your intentions are made clear. I'm not interested."

"That was harsh," Kimbley snickered. "Would you have phrased it more sweetly were I Hughes?"

"Perhaps," despite all that talk, Roy couldn't bring himself to bat the hand away. He wasn't sure if it would trigger the Crimson Alchemist's anger, and end up being blown into a million pieces. Words were safer when it came to the uncomprehending bomb-making, Flame Alchemist-molesting son of a bitch. Well, that was what he thought anyway. Roy dared himself to dart his gaze down, horrified when he realized that not only was Kimbley comprehending, but he was also getting a hard-on.

This was bad.

Panic began to well up, but he pushed it down. He had to concentrate, to get out of this unscathed.

"That's too bad. I've been watching you for some time, you know," Kimbley replied. It was true, Roy knew that. For several days now whenever he was in the shower, even with others, the Crimson Alchemist had shamelessly stared, probably confident that the others wouldn't dare question his motives. Even at the barracks, he didn't stop sending those unnerving looks, unwanted leers and sometimes almost cornering and fondling the Flame. Roy had, on those instances, managed to escape because there were some sentries around to see if everything was going along well. It was then when he couldn't take the mental assault anymore and decided to retreat and shower on his own, without anyone there.

Roy bit his lip, suddenly realizing that Kimbley had planned this all along. Getting him alone… how could he have been so stupid?

"Let go. And leave me alone, Crimson." Came out a little less confident than before.

"What if I don't want to?" Kimbley pressed. "I have better ideas."

"I said, let go."

"Or what?" the Crimson Alchemist snarled, his features contorting for a second, sending Roy another wave of panic. "Or you're going to burn me into a crisp? You're wet, Roy. Wet, wet, so very, very wet." He smirked down. "And oh… so very, very naked. Saves us some trouble, don't you think?"

"You wish," Roy swatted the hand away, at long last.

"And my wish is your command, isn't it, Roy?" Kimbley moved in, pressing the other against the shower wall, effectively pinning the other down with his hands and legs. The Crimson Alchemist had been underestimated yet again. His murderous brute strength was forceful and cruel as Kimbley lifted Roy up a little and slammed him hard against the cool wall. A hand slid down, massaging the smooth, pale flesh of the Flame's bottom. Disoriented, Roy clawed at the other, trying to get away. He wasn't about to give in. Feeling a finger brush against his lip, Roy opened it and bit down firmly. Kimbley gave a jerk and hissed.

"I said…" at that moment, Roy looked straight into the Crimson Alchemist's eyes. "Let go."

Golden yellow eyes flashed as Kimbley saw red. He swiftly detonated the shower head, an explosion ricocheting through the room. Water gushed down in torrents over himself and Roy, who stood still suddenly in shock. Kimbley leaned in, his mouth twisted into an unreadable expression. "That was just a warning, Flame. Any more tricks and people will find you dead – naked and humiliated."

There was a moment of silence as water poured down.

"…You won't have my submission," Roy had stopped struggling, but his gaze was still firm. He was shivering, but he'd never let Kimbley enjoy breaking his spirit, standing still, his legs still miraculously supporting him.

"Your way of saying you'll let me play with that beautiful body of yours," Kimbley grinned.

Just as Roy was about to retort, a crack of a gunshot was heard and the piece of tile next to Kimbley split. He turned slowly, scowling as he saw Maes Hughes standing behind them, a smoking gun in his hand. "That was just a warning, Mr. Kimbley. I won't miss the next time."

"Hmph," was all Kimbley could muster. He lifted his hands off Roy, making his way about Maes and towards the outlet, the latter continuing to train the gun at him until he was safely out. Roy stood there, astounded by the simplicity of his exit. He'd expected a great bomb fight of some sort, or a show of great destruction. Some of the others came in, while the others stayed outside to keep watch. The few who were in the shower crowded around Roy's stall, looking worried.

"What happened here, Mustang? You hurt anywhere?"

"Sicko bastard! What the hell was he thinking?"

"You okay, man?"

"I'm fine," Roy steeled himself enough to walk forward, grabbing a towel to dry off. "The shower isn't. Go tend to it."

There was some weak laughter, and the others pressed no further. Roy dressed quickly, darting out of the shower area in general direction of the barracks. Maes grabbed hold of his arm just as he was halfway there.

"Roy, he nearly raped you!"

"Shut up!"

"Roy!"

"Leave me alone!"

Roy shoved his friend away and dashed off, Maes staring helplessly at the background, soon out of sight. He stopped by a large, shady tree almost at the secluded outskirts of the camp, and seeing no one around; he sank to his knees and panted. Tears of shame, anger and revulsion hit the dusty ground, seeping in and disappearing into the dryness at once.

There was no room in military life for weakness, and Roy had come to respect that fact. Someday, just someday, he was going to make it to the top, and make Kimbley subject to his orders.

END

Friday, 28 October 2005. 7:17 PM