Title: Hesitation
Warnings/Disclaimers: Um…no spoilers, just angst. FMA does not belong to me, no profit was made in the creation of this story.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang
Rating: PG-13
AN: Wow, I never tried writing serious angst while listening to music that made me want to stand up and dance spastically around the room. So inappropriate XDDD And good God, the sentence fragments and Roy will eventually kill me xx
Summary: He truly hated waking Havoc, especially in the middle of the night. Especially when he knew he was leaving him to do something so vile and cruel. But what could he do? Roy couldn't very well live without Maes Hughes.

Roy Mustang heard the bedroom door open and sighed. He truly hated waking Havoc, especially in the middle of the night. Especially when he knew he was leaving him to do something so vile and cruel. But what could he do? Roy couldn't very well live without Maes Hughes. The knowledge tore at him each time he snuck out of bed to answer the phone, but he didn't know how to tell Havoc anything about their…tryst, let alone explain why, so he slipped quietly into his office while the Lieutenant slept.

"Maes," Roy finally interrupted. "I have work tomorrow." Though, if Havoc was awake, he didn't actually count on sleeping. Roy tried to glance around the half-closed door for him, nearly missing Hughes' farewell. When he replaced the phone on the cradle, it sounded too loud and too heavy. It sounded somehow…ominous. He shut off his lamp and padded back to the bedroom, but Havoc wasn't there so he flicked on the light. His bed lay in an open, disheveled state. What caught his attention though, was that the room no longer had any trace of Jean Havoc.

At first, Roy didn't believe it, kicking around the edge of the bed for a pair of boots and checking the military coat on his chair for the proper rank. Everything belonged to Colonel Mustang. Havoc had left. And, replaying the night in his head, Roy didn't blame him.

Roy haphazardly shuffled into a pair of pants and a shirt, slipping his boots on without tying them. A moment later, he stepped out onto the street. He hoped that Havoc had headed back to his apartment or else Roy would have no idea where to find him. As it was, he had no idea how to really handle the situation. Usually, when his lovers left, he allowed them to go. He never pursued them so far as he pursued Havoc. Not that he wanted to think about that. He didn't want to consider the depth of the relationship and certainly didn't want to consider that it deepened every time he saw Havoc.

He didn't want to consider why, every once in a while, when he knew Havoc might stop by, he unplugged the telephone. How he should have done it that night.

As he hurried down the block, Roy caught sight of his lover in the lamplight, but he still didn't know what to say. The impassive demeanor would make his trek absurd and foolishly prideful. He had no right to be angry, and he had no desire to lash out at Havoc anyway. The scent of a cigarette reached his nostrils and he knew that he had to say something to stop the man.

So Roy called his name, Havoc, Jean.

Havoc faltered, slowed, and stopped completely without turning, took a drag on his cigarette. Roy caught up to him and gave him his space, more from his own uncertainty than a reaction to Havoc's rigid posture. When Havoc finally faced him, Roy caught a hint of surprise in his eyes. Mustang hadn't bothered with a coat and guessed that he looked slightly less than his best.

"You just left," Roy said. He knew it was wrong the moment it left his lips. It wasn't Havoc's fault. He had no right to accuse him of anything.

"Was I supposed to wait for you?" Havoc asked quietly. It hit Roy, as Havoc avoided his eyes, that Havoc didn't know enough about the situation to begin to speculate and to continue to speculate if no one set him straight. Roy didn't give him enough to let Havoc know that he did care.

"No, you weren't," Roy replied. "I owe you an apology." He paused. "And, if you'd like, an explanation."

Havoc shrugged. "I could do without being lied to, sir."

"Then," Roy said. He resisted the urge to touch Havoc. "I won't lie to you, Jean. Hughes and I had something once, but it ended some time ago. I never wanted that to end, but I never wanted you to be him. I never want you to be anyone else."

Havoc looked caught between two emotions. Roy recognized one of them, the one he feared: the urge to bolt. The other defied description. Roy hoped that it was…that it was…love. The seconds dragged on as Havoc stared. At first, Roy tried to hide his anxiety as he usually did. Then he remembered just why he was chasing after Havoc in the middle of the night. He let it seep out slowly, but Havoc still mulled over everything in silence. And Roy felt the urge to bolt too.

Suddenly, he felt it in the air and his eyes snapped to the cigarette burning down between Havoc's fingers. Without a second thought, Roy snuffed it out before it burned the rough hand holding it. Havoc finally moved, raising the cigarette butt to meet his line of sight, then let it fall from his hand.

"Thanks, Roy," Havoc said. He reached into his front pocket, pulling another cigarette from the carton and bringing it to his lips. Roy reacted. He took his glove from his pocket, slipped it on, and snapped lightly.