Disclaimer – if I owned FMA do you think I'd be writing bad fanfic about it for free?
A/N – the whole point of these shorts is that they are about homosexual relationships. If that's not your thing, then I advise you not to read these. Depending on how people react I may start announcing each pairing in the chapter title.
A snot bubble emanated from the nostril of their somnolent commanding officer, Havoc couldn't help but notice. Slumped back in his chair, head fallen back and mouth gracelessly fallen open the Colonel was a rather less than inspiring sight. Havoc sighed internally, bored by the view, but unable to move on account of being frozen stiff with trauma and the loss of will to live. Again.
A general increase in the ambient lighting levels and the tinkly sound of pink sparkles present in the atmosphere warned Havoc that the view was unlikely to improve any time soon. The end of his cigarette bobbed up and down in a subdued semaphore of his disconsolate state. Since neither the comatose, nor the sparkly one seemed to understand cigarette semiotics he was doomed.
'Good evening Colonel! In accordance with my beautiful family tradition of….' The loud and vaguely irritating greeting trailed away as he noticed that no one was listening. The amazing vanishing jacket reappeared to cover his acres of hewn pectorals and Armstrong bent down slightly to look at Mustang closer. 'Aww Roy. You are so adorable when you sleep, I just wish you relaxed like this at other times.'
Ack! Armstrong doing the gooey shonen-ai thing? Not good for the mental health of an already deeply traumatised Havoc. What happened next didn't exactly help him much either. Armstrong stepped around the heavy desk and lifted Mustang into his arms with the care of a mother with her sleeping child. Just to compound the wrongness of the image presented to the trouble young man, Mustang squirmed slightly, face scrunching up, then relaxing as he nuzzled into Armstrong's chest.
It was a good few minutes before Havoc recovered from that shock and managed to regain sufficient marbles to react. The scream resonated through the whole building and cracked several windowpanes. Hawkeye was there like a shot, gun cocked and eyes roving the area, searching for danger. The others straggled in after, Hughes bringing up the rear with his trademark grin.
There was a pause after they managed to get the story out of Havoc. Then Hawkeye's expression grew thoughtful. 'Who do you suppose goes on top?' She asked with uncharacteristic frivolity. There was a pause.
'Yaoi and anime law would say Armstrong.' Furey remarked in a surprisingly bold tone and a very self-referential manner. Worryingly Hughes' eyes lit up at this.
'Only the most noble, pure and manly of men could dare subdue the bold flame of passionate manliness that is the leader and lover we all know Roy as!'
At this point Ed somehow managed to regain the power of speech, his face paling. 'But Armstrong is a very large man. What if he's built to scale? He'd hurt someone with that size!'
'Built to scale? Did you do a lot of Airfix models as a kid?' Hughes cunningly extrapolated, smirking at the youth.
'Of course!' Ed drew himself up to his full unimpressive height and treated Hughes to a haughty stare. 'You should see the squadron of Messerschmitts I have tacked to my ceiling!'
'Feh! Any fool can build a decent Messerschmitt. Do a battleship for a real challenge, or a Mosquito or even a Mustang!' Hughes shot back with the surety of an aficionado.
'Nah that's Armstrong's job, he might get possessive.' No one laughed. In fact they all seemed to be frozen in position. Ed turned stiffly and gulped.
'You have until the count of three, Fullmetal. One. Two. Three.' A snap of the fingers, assorted screams and an explosion as Ed dodged and instead he managed to hit the stash of whisky all fanficcers know Mustang has stashed in his officer behind the bookcase. The brief pause Mustang took to mourn the loss of his booze gave Ed the chance to scream like a girl and get the hell out of Dodge.