pairing: Havolina/Jean Havoc x Rebecca Catalina
rating: T
type/genre: angst,fluff
word count: 4.2k
summary: Close to the end of Rebecca's pregnancy, she notices Jean has been acting very strange, and she starts seriously wondering if he might be cheating, but she knows Jean, and he wouldn't do that, except what other explanation is there for all of the weird stuff going on?
disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.
contains: explicit language, implied sexual themes
note: n my head, this one goes along with my earlier fic "Three of Us." Comments are always appreciated. Enjoy!
Rebecca
I feel crazy.
Maybe I am crazy. Maybe being pregnant has altered my brain chemistry so much I'm out of my mind. Is that possible? Can that happen?
"Sorry, I'm late." Riza breaks my deteriorating train of thought as she sits down across from me. "Your call sort of woke me up," she admits.
"Yeah, um, sorry."
I tried not to bring Riza into this, but when I woke up this morning and… Well, I couldn't stand it anymore. I called her and asked her to meet me for coffee. It's the ass crack of dawn, but she's my best friend, so of course she agreed.
"So what's going on? Why are you so freaked out?"
"Well, I… It's…" I swallow.
"Your drink," a server announces as he drops off Riza's steaming cup, giving me a few seconds to try to compose myself.
"Thank you," she says softly before looking back at me as the server leaves us.
"Oh God," I whisper.
I'm insane.
"Rebecca? What's going on?" Riza asks again slower, her eagle eyes watching my every move. "Is it the baby?"
"No." I shake my head at once. "I… It's…I shouldn't have woken you up," I sigh.
"But you did," she counters before taking a sip of her drink. God. I miss caffeine. "So why are we here at this ungodly hour?"
"It's Jean," I blurt finally.
"What about Jean?"
"I…He…Lately, he's been…" I feel paranoia and doubt swirling in my chest and sliding into my throat. "I think…"
"Rebecca, spit it out."
"I think he's cheating on me."
She blinks at me, and I distract myself by taking an unsatisfying drink of herbal tea.
"Jean Havoc?" she asks when she finds her voice.
"Yes."
"The father of your baby?"
"Yes," I repeat, a frown forming between my eyes.
"You thinkheis cheating on you?
"Iknowit sounds crazy. I feel crazy," I hiss. "But…"
"But what? Why do you think this is happening?"
"Lately, he's been working a lot of overtime, you know, staying late at the office or leaving early, but then…he stopped coming home."
"What?"
"I mean, he came home, but he would be gone for the whole night. He said he was crashing on the couch in Roy's office, which made sense at first, but then, there were the other things."
"Other things?"
"I found a gift bag with lingerie in our closet," I exhale. "And before you ask if he could've bought it for me, it was all the wrong size, and I know it was new because I just cleaned out that closet a few weeks ago, and it wasn't there then."
"Okay, that is not great, but—"
"And also he's started being cagey and weird whenever he's on the phone. Like, if I walk in, he suddenly hangs up or he interrupts whoever he's talking to and changes the subject or something."
"Hmm."
"And then, last night, I heard him make a date with another girl."
"What?"
"I got up to get water, and he was in the kitchen. He didn't see me, but I heard him saying something about meeting for coffee today at noon saying, 'don't worry. She'll be busy with her prenatal massage', and then he called the person he was talking to 'sweetheart.'"
"You're getting a prenatal massage?"
"Yes…it was Jean's idea."
"Fuck."
"So you agree? I'm not crazy?"
"Well…he's definitely acting weird," she concedes. "But this is Havoc. Have you tried to talk to him about any of this?"
"No, because… If he is cheating, I…I don't know if I can…"
My lungs seize up, and I reach up to pull my top away from my throat as heat blasts through my body. Fuck, what is wrong with me? I'm not ever this insecure or emotionally vulnerable. Is this because I'm pregnant? Or has being out of the military made me weak?
"If it's real," I say after taking a slow breath, "I don't know what that will mean for us, and…"
"Okay, I get it. Did you hear where this 'date' was happening?"
"Yeah. They're meeting at the cafe around the corner from Central HQ."
"Oh, that's perfect." She grins as she takes another sip of coffee.
"Why?"
"Because the general loves the pastrami-on-rye from that place, and I told him I'd pick up lunch today," she explains, unable to keep from smiling when she says his name.
"You're picking up lunch for General Mustang?"
"He has meetings all afternoon," she explains without missing a beat. "Anyway, you're going to have to cancel your prenatal massage, is that a problem?"
"What?" I blink at her.
"Catch up, Catalina," she says setting her cup down. "We're going to crash Havoc's date and find out what the hell is actually going on."
"We are?"
"I mean, we're going to do it stealthily, because I don't want him to see us and bolt or something if he is cheating, though I really hope he isn't."
"Me too."
Jean
"You're late, Havoc," the general glowers at me as I pull out my chair and sit down at my desk.
"Sorry, Sir."
"Are you wearing the same uniform as yesterday?"
"Sir?" I ask instead of owning up to it.
"Your shirt is wrinkled, and you just look…rumpled."
"Sorry, Sir," I echo.
"At least it looks like you've had a shower."
My hair is still wet even though I tried to get it dry.
"I was in a rush this morning, Sir," I explain quietly.
"Tomorrow, I expect you to be more presentable."
"Sure thing, Sir."
My phone rings, and I'm grateful for the excuse to get out of this conversation.
"Lieutenant Havoc," I announce into the receiver.
"Hey, hottie, I need to talk to you."
I flinch at her tinkling voice and look around the room, before hunching over my desk.
"I told you not to call me at work," I hiss.
"Well, I know, but—"
"This is a secure line, but I can't guarantee I'll be the one to answer it."
"Jean, please—"
"No. I think Rebecca is getting suspicious, and if we're going to get away with this, you can't be calling me here. I told you I'd meet you for lunch, okay? We can talk then."
"Fine."
She hangs up, and I let out a sigh of relief.
"I hope you're not taking personal calls at work, Lieutenant."
I jerk back to find Lieutenant Hawkeye frowning at me from beside the general's desk.
"No, of course not, Ma'am."
She doesn't say anything, but I see a muscle in her jaw tick before she turns and walks away. The last thing I need is her poking her nose in. I can handle Rebecca, but if her best friend starts digging around, she could ruin everything.
Rebecca
At noon, I watch through the window as Riza enters the cafe. We decided it would be too conspicuous if I went with her. I have no real reason to be here at this time of day. Though, I could use the excuse of eating lunch with Riza. But the idea was to not be noticed by Jean and his date, and he'd definitely notice me.
Riza comes back out a few minutes later, and I feel my heart stall at the look on her face. She carries the brown paper back with the cafe's logo on it across the street, and I meet her outside on the sidewalk.
"What happened?"
"It looked like he was on a date," she sighs.
"Who was she?"
"I don't know." She shakes her head. "She was blonde and pretty—"
"Did she have big boobs?" I cut her off.
"I don't know," she sighs. "But, he gave her a gift bag, and I'm assuming it was the same one you found in the closet."
"Her boobs, Riza, give me a cup size. Best guess," I push.
"Uh…maybe a C cup, but I—"
I inhale as sharp pain radiates through my chest. The lingerie I found was a C cup. He gave another woman lingerie.
"I didn't see them touch or kiss or anything," she goes on, but that tidbit doesn't make me feel any better.
"Thank you," I say softly, as cold slips down my spine and begins spreading through my entire body.
"I still think you should talk to him. Or at least, you need something more concrete for evidence."
"More concrete than that?" I gape at her pointing behind us.
"It's Havoc," she says, grimacing. "It just feels…"
"I know how it feels," I hiss.
"I've got to get this back to the office." She nods to her bag. "Call me if you need anything."
"I will."
I move to hail a cab as she disappears around the corner.
Jean
I leave the office right at six. Rebecca thinks I'm working late, and I was, but I don't call to tell her I've left. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.
I pull into the parking lot of the cheap hotel and wait. She pulls in five minutes later and grabs a small duffle bag out of her backseat. I wait until she's disappeared into the room before I follow her in. The duffle probably wasn't necessary. I mean, this place is pay-by-the-hour. This little rendezvous shouldn't take that long.
Rebecca
I must be crazy.
If I'm not crazy, why am I digging through Jean's things.
I mean, I trust Jean. I do.
But…
I spent most of yesterday trying to talk myself down after the cafe thing. I was trying to wait for Jean, so I could talk to him before bed. But at eight when he still wasn't home, I called his office to see if he was still there, they told me he'd left hours ago.
I tried to rationalize it. Maybe he went out with some of the guys and forgot to call. Or he went to work out and forgot to call. He's answered all the other times I called when he worked late, so it's probably nothing to be worked up over…
I tried to wait up for him, but I tire out so easily these days, I fell asleep.
Then, this morning, he was gone before I woke up. The only reason I know he was ever here was the note he left for me on his pillow.
He said he loved me, and that he'd try to be home earlier tonight.
I started crying when I read it.
Because was it real or was it just something you put on a note to keep your pregnant girlfriend in the dark?
And now I've been alone all day with my thoughts, and my paranoia, and my doubts… Which led me to looking for something I hope I don't find.
Something concrete, as Riza put it.
I shut the drawer of the dresser and move to the next one.
Even Riza agreed he was acting really weird lately, I remind myself. The late nights at the office. The way he's been secretive and…lying. I can feel him lying. Plus, she said he got that call from some woman at work yesterday, and it sounded like…
Not to mention he hasn't touched me in weeks. I mean, I'm late-term pregnant, but my doctor didn't say anything about abstaining from sex.
And Jean loves sex. He needs sex. So if he's not having it with me…
I shake my head and rifle through the next drawer. I shouldn't be doing this. I should be nesting. There's so much baby stuff in the spare bedroom that needs to be organized and put away, and instead I'm acting like a paranoid lunatic.
My mind is spinning out of control, when I spot something in the back.
Papers.
Something concrete.
I reach to the very back of the drawer and struggle to pull them out.
Receipts. A stack of them. And clearly he didn't want me to see them since they're all smashed into this drawer like this.
"Secrets," I whisper, an invisible knife slamming into my gut.
I start skimming through them and feel the air constricting in my lungs.
Lunches for two. Flower shops. A boutique. A jeweler. A—
I gasp, dropping the offensive piece of paper and stumbling back. My hands are shaking. My entire body is.
I thought I was crazy. I had hoped I was, but… I'm not.
How could he do this to me? To us? I'm pregnant. We're having a baby. We… We already picked out names!
I feel tears building behind my eyes, and I try to swallow.
Hurt is replaced by rage as I stare down at the paper trail of betrayals. I grab the stack and shove it into my nightstand before turning around and going to the closet, digging around for Jean's suitcases.
If he thinks he can have his cake and eat it too, he has another thing coming.
Jean
As soon as I walk in the door to the apartment, I know something is wrong. It's too quiet. Too dark. Where's Becca?
I shut the door and throw the coat of my military uniform over the back of the couch. Normally, Rebecca would be here teasing me about leaving my stuff everywhere. Rubbing her hands over my arms while making little nonsense comments about what bad habits I'm going to teach the baby.
But instead, it's dark and cold.
I start to turn on a light in the living room when I hear a pained noise from the hall. Without thinking I move toward it. Rebecca is thirty-four weeks pregnant. If she's in pain, it could be something to do with the baby—
"Fuck!" I hiss as I stumble over something in the hall.
It's still dark, so I don't see what it is. Shoving it aside, I continue to the bedroom. The door is cracked, and it's just as dark inside the room as it is everywhere else in the apartment.
"Becca?" I ease the door open and stare into the darkness until my eyes adjust.
She's curled up on the bed, facing away from me.
"Baby, are you okay?"
"Leave me alone, Jean," she replies, and the ache in her voice tears at me.
"Did something happen?" I ask, ignoring her pained words. "Is it the baby?"
Fuck, if something happened to the baby this late in her pregnancy—
"No. The baby is fine."
"Okay, then—"
"When I said, 'leave me alone,' I meant it," she repeats, her voice taking on a hard edge. "Get out."
"Wait, what?" I pause. "Are you mad at me?"
"Am I mad at you?" she echoes darkly.
"Yeah," I frown. "Did I do something—"
"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" she interrupts as she slowly sits up in the bed. "You thought you could play me, and I wouldn't realize it?"
"Rebecca, what are you talking about?" I ask as confusion fills my chest.
"I know you've been seeing someone else," she hisses.
"What?" I gape at her.
"You can play innocent all you want, but I know, okay? And I want you to leave. Your stuff is in the hall."
My stuff? That's what I stumbled into? She packed my shit without talking to me first? What the hell?
"Becks, I haven't—"
"Don't call me 'Becks,'" she spits. "And don't try to lie to me."
"Why the hell do you think I've been cheating on you?"
"Well, where should I start?" She climbs to her feet, the bed between us, wincing as she turns to face me. Her face is puffy, and my stomach drops when I realize she's been crying. "All the late nights you've been spending at the office, not to mention the ones where you don't even come home."
"I told you I was working overtime for—"
"The baby. Yeah. I know. Except I called last night, and the security guard who answered said you left at six."
"Rebecca—"
"And what about the way you've been acting cagey and weird every time I walk into a room and you're on the phone. For weeks, I've noticed you hanging up suddenly or changing the subject out of nowhere."
"Okay, I get that, but I was—"
"And then there's the personal call you took at work yesterday. The one that wasn't from me."
"How do you know about that?"
"Riza was watching you. She heard you say whoever it was wasn't supposed to call you at work if you wanted to get away with whatever it is you're doing."
Fuck. This is not going well.
"Okay, yeah, I can see how that looks bad, but—"
"Not to mention you—" her voice catches, and I feel my stomach twist when her arms come up to wrap around her. "You haven't touched me in ages," she says softly. "I know my body is—"
"Rebecca," I start toward her, but she moves back.
"You need sex, Jean. I know you do, and we haven't been having it, so…"
"Please," my voice is thick, and I wince.
I'm in pain seeing her in pain.
"Then there's the receipts I found."
"Wait, what?"
I feel myself pale as she pulls out a stack of papers from her nightstand.
"This one is for lunch for two on a day I had a doctor's appointment, and you told me you had a work meeting." She holds up the first one before moving on to the next, flipping through them angrily. "This one is for from Madam Whisper's adult boutique for…lingerie and unspecified sex toys. This one is for a piece of jewelry that costs over three hundred thousand cens. Oh, and let's not forget this one." She holds up a yellow slip of paper, and my stomach dips. "A room at a pay-by-the-hour hotel. Datedyesterday."
I cringe as she crumples the paper in her fist and throws it at me.
"Tell me again how you're not cheating on me," she seethes.
"I'm not," I argue, running my fingers through my hair. "I— Please, Rebecca, I know all this looks damning as fuck, but I can explain."
"I'm sure you can."
"Why would I keep those if I was cheating on you?" I nod to the receipts.
"Why would you keep them in the back of a dresser drawer if you weren't hiding them from me?" she snaps.
"I was hiding them," I start, "but not because I was cheating. Please, Becca."
"Fine." She shakes her head. "I will give you…" she swallows and glances at the clock on her nightstand. "Ten minutes to convince me. Otherwise, you're sleeping somewhere else tonight."
"Thank you." I nod to her.
I move to sit down on the bed, but she flinches, so I remain standing instead.
"The overtime is just overtime," I start with the first thing on her list of offenses. "I can prove it. The security guards see me there every night. Last night, I had an errand to run, so I left early, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
She crosses her arms over her extended belly and frowns.
"What errand?"
"I'll get to it in a second, I swear."
"Okay." She nods. "Keep going."
"It was all supposed to be a surprise for you."
"What?" she blinks.
"I've been planning something for a while, and I was actually going to tell you this weekend, but…anyway, the reason I've been cagey on the phone is because I was talking with vendors."
"Vendors?"
"I needed flowers and a photographer, and I was reserving a venue."
"But what about—"
"The call I took at work was one of the girls who works for Madam Christmas."
Her eyes narrow, and I hold my hands up.
"It wasn't like that. I needed someone to help me buy the things for you at Whisper's, and I couldn't ask any of the men because they would've given me hell. I couldn't ask Lieutenant Hawkeye because the general would've skinned me alive for suggesting it."
"Well, that is true," she concedes.
"So, I asked a girl I was sort of friends with. Yes, we went out a couple of times in the past, but that was before you and I got together, and she's seeing someone else now. She told me she already had plans to buy some things for her and her new boyfriend, so it wouldn't be an issue to pick up the things for me."
"And the lunch? And the hotel room?"
"The lunch was my meeting with her to explain what I needed and to see if she would agree. The hotel was where she handed the items off to me after, and I paid her. I couldn't very well have her bring the bag to the office or meet her in public with it."
"Okay. I guess that all makes sense…" she says slowly before her eyes meet mine. "You really weren't sleeping with her?"
"I swear, Becca."
She nods slowly, and my entire body is vibrating with the need to hold her.
"That just leaves—"
Rebecca
"You have to act surprised," he interrupts me.
"What?" I feel my face twist with confusion.
"This weekend," he explains as he fiddles with something in his pocket, "when I take you to the place I booked, where the flowers and the photographer are going to be, you have to act surprised."
"What? Why? How am I going to act surprised if I already know—"
I cut off as he drops down on one knee and holds the box out to me.
"Rebecca Catalina?"
"Shut the fuck up, Jean," I hiss, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks.
"I love you, and I'm going to keep loving you until you tell me not to. And probably even after that. Will you marry me?"
"You absolute asshole," I whimper as he walks closer to me on his knees. "You made me paranoid for weeks, and now you…"
"Becca?"
"How am I supposed to act surprised now that you've ruined it? I'm gonna say 'yes,' and everyone will already know I—"
"You're gonna say 'yes'?" he cuts me off.
"Well, obviously," I snap at him. "Why would I be this upset you were hypothetically cheating on me if I wasn't fucking in love with you?"
"Baby?" He drops his hand holding the ring box and presses his lips to my belly.
"Yeah?"
"What if we just have hot makeup sex and try to forget any of this ever happened?"
My heart leaps, but I try to ignore it.
"Do I still have to act surprised when—"
"Let's make a deal. If I can make you come at least three times before I do, you have to act surprised."
"You're sure?"
"Well, I'm pretty good at making you come, so—"
Pretty good is an understatement.
"I mean, you're sure you want to have sex with me?"
"Fuck," he hisses, climbing to his feet and pulling me into his chest. "I didn't realize I was neglecting you that much, baby. I'm so sorry. You're beautiful, and hot as fuck. I willalwayswant to have sex with you."
"Yeah?"
"I swear it," he groans. "Hell, Becca, just now, if you hadn't been so mad at me, I was going to tell you how incredible you look when you're angry. Like a goddess of sex and rage—Fuck. I was turned on even while you were threatening to kick me out."
"But, then why—"
"I've been putting in all that overtime, and you kept saying how you were constantly in pain… I was tired, and then, when I wasn't, I was afraid of hurting you."
"Sex makes me feel better when I'm hurting," I explain softly. "Just so you know, and if you'd asked, I would've told you that."
"Fair." He nods. "And maybe next time you think I'm acting weird, just ask me instead of packing all my shit and dumping it in the hall for me to break my neck tripping over."
"Right. Sorry, I—"
"No time for apologizes, Becks. There's sex to be had."
I giggle, and he kisses my neck, long and slow.
"So, what do you say to my offer? Three orgasms or you don't have to act surprised when I propose?"
"Sounds great to me either way. You have a deal, baby daddy."
I see a flash of fear skitter across his face, and I lean my head to the side.
"Jean?"
"Sorry." He shakes his head and turns me, so my back is to the bed.
"Where was your head just now?"
"Just deciding what position I want you in first," he grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
I'll just ask him in the middle of sex. He won't be able to resist me then. Ooh. Speaking of resisting…
"Hey," I whisper, and he freezes. "Didn't that receipt say something about sex toys?"
"Yeah." He frowns. "Why?"
"Do we have to wait until after you propose to use them?"
He stares at me, frozen for a full ten seconds before flying into action.
"Oh my God, I love you." His lips lean forward to kiss me before he's off me, heading out the door. "Don't move from that spot. I'll be right back!"
"I love you, too, Jean," I murmur over my shoulder, and then wince when I hear him stumble into the suitcases again.
"Fuck a duck!"
A laugh bubbles up in my chest, and I cover my face with my hands. God. I can't believe I thought that precious, foul-mouthed idiot was cheating on me. I really must've been temporarily insane.