Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist
Warnings: This story contains yaoi (malexmale). If youíd rather not read this, go back and find something else.
Warm, dark hands on his chest and lips on his -- Scar's red volcanic eyes still open and staring into Havoc's own (a curious, disdainful gaze -- "You're not going to run from me?" he asks, moving away, and Havoc inhales sharply and shakes his head, no) and Havoc can hear the even marching of feet behind him. He turns to look but the sound weakens, becomes softer, quieter, and he looks back at the Ishbalian in front of him (the alchemist killer, the danger he has been warned of countless times) and he can't help the sinking feeling in his stomach when he remembers standing at the edge of a destroyed street and swearing that the scarred man would be killed. And he's torn between "they'll kill me if they find out" and "I'm sorry about that, I didn't know what you were like" -- and Scar's lips are tainted with the blood of Basque Gran as they kiss again.
He can't help flinching a little as that arm -- the arm -- wraps around his back (it could all be a ruse, Havoc could be next). But there is no watch in his pocket, just a packet of cigarettes, and his breath is heavy and loud.
"This won't happen again," Scar warns him, "Don't think I'm stupid. You're part of the military, and the military doesn't have anything good in store for me."
And then Havoc shakes his head again -- "No," and pulls Scar in for another kiss, right out here in the open, in an alley that anyone could stumble upon, and Scar turns to him, right hand slipping beneath the waistline of Havoc's pants (and he isn't afraid of the markings anymore, beautifully tattooed) -- "No?" and the hint of a morbid smile touches Scar's lips, as if he has caught hold of some joke in Havoc's words that Havoc himself wasn't aware of.
"The military is stupider than I thought," Scar continues, and Havoc kisses him to make him stop talking, thrusts against the warmth of his hands, and when it is over Scar still has that odd look on his face.
Scar's shirt is torn and bleeding, and the Ishbalian eyes it for a minute but doesn't pick it up. Havoc lights a cigarette and leans back against the stone wall.
"It was a nice dream," Scar says, catching Havoc's gaze for a moment (blood-red eyes) and there are a million questions Havoc would like to ask but doesn't -- he doesn't dare to even move.
There are geese flying overhead.
The murmur of voices breaks the peace, footsteps coming closer this time, "Lieutenant?"
Havoc looks over and Scar disappears into the greying sky, his feet making barely any noise upon the dusty ground. It's Colonel Mustang, fingers poised to snap, ignoring the tentative patter of the slow, light rain.
"He was here," Havoc says, in response to the question in Mustang's eyes, motioning to the shirt on the ground, "but we won't see him again."