warnings: mild slash.

Please...Roy

Hello all! Third installment of the story. I seem to be writing at around midnight every time. This is going to affect the quality of this piece. X.X. Ah well, can't be helped. School work always comes first…and forgive me for my writing. I know it's severely stripped of literary frills. After all, I'm not Kristen. 

And oh, Thank you reviewers! You people make my day!

Chapter three:

Hughes eyed the pale man sitting behind the desk. His face was contorted into an ugly grimace. Unbecoming of someone with such good features... Hughes observed his long spindley fingers violently dig into soft white palms, forming bloody crescents. Roy - he was crying.

Hughes watched with growing concern as Roy traced the tear tracks on his cheeks, slowly rubbing the moisture between his fingers. Bloodless lips curved into a scimitar smile. The picture was ethereal - Roy in his grief. Hughes took in Roy's features. Where people saw a sallow complexion, Hughes saw alabaster; where people saw a gaunt face, he saw a chiseled jaw line; where people saw haggard dull eyes, he saw almond shaped beauties; where people saw a perpetually creased brow, Hughes saw perfectly arched eyebrows. Hughes licked his dry lips. This man...he was altogether perfect.

It was at this time Roy chose to look up. Startled obsidian eyes met olive ones. Roy watched the man's stubbled jaw drop ever so slightly. Dark orbs roved Hughes' face, admiring the strong and decisive features. i Facial hair never looked so good... /i Roy's lips parted.

"Hu..Hughes. Explain yourself."

There was a hint of anger in Roy's voice. This man, he had seen him without his mask on. The mask that radiated happiness, self-confidence and egoism. The mask he had lived behind for years. Precious few had seen him without it. He could not let this man ruin his reputation, drop-dead gorgeous or not.

"I was looking for you, Roy."

"Apparently. How can I be of assistance Lt. Col.?"

Roy flung out Hughes' rank, un-personalizing the conversation in a sentence. The corner of Hughes' mouth twitched. Roy was guarded, and Hughes' knew that.

"I was wondering if I could assist you."

Hughes' received a raised eyebrow in reply.

"Dinner, Roy. Seven tonight. How about it?"

Now that was unexpected; Roy was stumped. He wracked his brains. Surely his busy schedule had that slot filled up.

"You're free, sir."

Riza. Since when had she entered this conversation? They were conspiring against him, these two.

Roy conceded defeat and sighed heavily.

"I suppose..."

"Great, I'll meet you tonight outside HQ. No uniform alright? Okay this is terrific!"

Hughes cringed inwardly as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Careless words. They sounded so over-enthusiastic. But that couldn't be helped. After all, he was.

Roy tugged at the collar of his white button-up shirt. It felt odd, this looseness. After all, he practically lived in his uniform. Roy only got home at about midnight, exhausted. A bath later, he was usually asleep in the nude. His house at 8 bedrooms, all unoccupied. Who was there to bother what he wore or did not to sleep? Someone grabbed his shoulder. On instinct, Roy whirled around and delivered a solid punch to the jawline of his molester. A stream of expletives issued from the man's mouth. Roy knew that voice. Oh...shit...

"I am so, so sorry Hughes! I though you were a - "

Roy was silenced by two fingertips stopping his lips.

"Save it, Roy. I shouldn't have snuck up on you...it's an Intelligence thing."

Roy touched the bruise that was starting to blossom on Hughes' jawline. The voices were chanting at the back of his head.

Roy. You're such a sad case. No one can even get near you without get gravely injured. No one can befriend you without being hurt in the process. All your contacts are harmed - indirectly or directl because of you. Roy...why even bother. You live a pathetic existence, Roy. You're not worth it. Not worth it.

"Hit me, Hughes."

Gold-green eyes widened, incredulous.

"Whatever for? Have you gone stark crazy, Roy?"

He did not reply. Roy hung his head and bit his lip.

"Roy?"

Sharp incisors ground into tender flesh. Roy tasted the familiar coppery tang of blood and lapped at the puncture wounds semi-eagerly.

"Does it taste good, Roy?"

Roy stared at Hughes, wondering how or what to answer. He needn't have bothered. All thoughts fled his mind as warm lips enveloped his.