Wait Just a Damn Minute
Apr. 13th, 2012 10:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
twilight_lamentTitle: Wait Just a Damn Minute
Canon: FMA - Pre-series
Characters: Maes Hughes & Roy Mustang
Rating: PG
Summary: Based on this head canon. My take on Hughes POV. He wasn't by nature a masochist, but now Maes Hughes wondered if he was, in fact, developing tendencies in that area.
Disclaimer: Yes we all know that I don't own FMA.
It was day twelve of Operation Cold Shoulder. Twelve days of Hughes trying to get Mustang to stop long enough for Hughes to get out an entire sentence without being cut off either verbally or by Mustang simply walking away from him. Twelve days of increasing frustration especially with flatly delivered 'you don't have to say anything's and 'it was nothing's. Twelve days of Hughes thinking that beating his head against a brick wall really would be less painful and more fulfilling. He wasn't by nature a masochist, but now Maes Hughes wondered if he was, in fact, developing tendencies in that area.
He figured he would give it One Last Try (ignoring the fact he'd said that on tries seventeen through thirty-four already) before he threw his hands up in defeat. However today, day thirteen, he would revise his strategy on engaging the enemy.
So instead of attempting to sit with Roy at breakfast, Hughes grabbed something portable and headed to his first class. After said class, he did not attempt to catch up to the quickly retreating back of Roy Mustang, nor did he try at lunch. Wash, rinse, and repeat for the rest of the day, and the next two days as well.
Finally, because while he wasn't desperately trying to talk to the stubborn jerk, he was still watching, Roy no longer hurried away so much when Hughes was around and seemed to relax. Good - the plan was working; he thought Hughes had given up. That he should have known better wasn't something Hughes dithered over since it was to his advantage.
Though tenacious, Hughes did not immediately strike. Instead he waited in the common room, studiously reading the next chapters on military law when he noticed the form of one Roy Mustang skirting around the collection of chairs and tables with a mixture of boredom and apathy on his face. Unmoving except for his eyes, Hughes watched, carefully noting minor details in the alchemist to give him the necessary clues to where the man was headed. Roy carried only one book in his hand, but the pocket of his jacket had a bit of bulge that was just the size of a purloined bottle. That he had his jacket on at all was another clue.
All those little details narrowed down the options to three - all of them outside and all of them relatively private. Perfect - you see patience does in fact have its rewards. Hughes gave Mustang another ten minutes to reach his probable destination. By the time Hughes returned his book and located the man, Mustang should be well settled.
Careful planning was everything.
So twenty minutes later, Hughes opened the roof door very softly, closed it in the same manner, and made his way with care across the still warm roof. The sun still gave off enough light to read by, the temperature had already dropped and would continue falling through the night. Spring was always an unpredictable time of year. Which made an odd sort of symmetry because this meeting would likely be as unpredictable - at least the outcome.
Ahead of him was a dark hard just barely visible against one of the vent boxes on the roof. He heard a deep voice speaking in a low murmur as Roy was wont to do when engrossed in a subject he had yet to thoroughly master. When he estimated that he was in fact close enough to lessen the chance for Roy to bolt easily, Maes no longer walked so quietly, kept his eyes on Roy, and let it be known through expression alone that the younger man was not going to brush him off this time.
Yes, Maes Hughes had finally reached the end of his formidable patience.
"We need to talk." He stated plainly despite the slightly panicked look in Roy's eyes.
"There - ."
"You've been avoiding me for damn near two weeks, and I've had it." Sorry, but he wasn't letting Roy stop him this time.
"I already s.."
"I get why, but I think you owe me here. You can't just drop something like that in my lap and then get skittish because I didn't know what to say."
"Maes, I already told you it didn't matter." Sentences overlapped and Roy had recovered a bit faster than Maes had anticipated - damn.
"Nope you."
"It's nothi.."
"Don't say that a.."
They weren't quite shouting at each other, but Roy was standing now with an equally stubborn look on his face and showing no sign of letting Maes say What Needed To Be Said, their voices had raised, and his careful plan had started to unravel. Irritation flickered over Hughes face. His hands twitched and before he realized what he was doing, Hughes had both hands fisted in Mustang's jacket and had pulled the man closer with scowl.
Drastic times and all that jazz.
What he did realize was the moment that he kissed the alchemist and silenced, finally, all the protests and negations that Roy had been ready to launch at him again. That Roy didn't respond except to freeze up was both satisfying and slightly annoying. Hughes pulled back with a sigh.
"You can't just confess you have feelings for me and never give me a chance you know." Roy blinked, dumbstruck. So Hughes just kissed him again though slower, softer, and without the overriding need to shut the man up this time around. When the rigidity left Roy, and he curled one arm then both arms around Hughes shoulders, Maes felt a rush of relief. While it was a touch strange to kiss another man and hold him close, it was a pleasant sort of strange that only seemed to add to the experience rather than detract from it. Perhaps it was only because Roy had been, still was, and always would be his best friend.
Though from now on he would remember this as the most effective way to get Mustang to listen.
Canon: FMA - Pre-series
Characters: Maes Hughes & Roy Mustang
Rating: PG
Summary: Based on this head canon. My take on Hughes POV. He wasn't by nature a masochist, but now Maes Hughes wondered if he was, in fact, developing tendencies in that area.
Disclaimer: Yes we all know that I don't own FMA.
It was day twelve of Operation Cold Shoulder. Twelve days of Hughes trying to get Mustang to stop long enough for Hughes to get out an entire sentence without being cut off either verbally or by Mustang simply walking away from him. Twelve days of increasing frustration especially with flatly delivered 'you don't have to say anything's and 'it was nothing's. Twelve days of Hughes thinking that beating his head against a brick wall really would be less painful and more fulfilling. He wasn't by nature a masochist, but now Maes Hughes wondered if he was, in fact, developing tendencies in that area.
He figured he would give it One Last Try (ignoring the fact he'd said that on tries seventeen through thirty-four already) before he threw his hands up in defeat. However today, day thirteen, he would revise his strategy on engaging the enemy.
So instead of attempting to sit with Roy at breakfast, Hughes grabbed something portable and headed to his first class. After said class, he did not attempt to catch up to the quickly retreating back of Roy Mustang, nor did he try at lunch. Wash, rinse, and repeat for the rest of the day, and the next two days as well.
Finally, because while he wasn't desperately trying to talk to the stubborn jerk, he was still watching, Roy no longer hurried away so much when Hughes was around and seemed to relax. Good - the plan was working; he thought Hughes had given up. That he should have known better wasn't something Hughes dithered over since it was to his advantage.
Though tenacious, Hughes did not immediately strike. Instead he waited in the common room, studiously reading the next chapters on military law when he noticed the form of one Roy Mustang skirting around the collection of chairs and tables with a mixture of boredom and apathy on his face. Unmoving except for his eyes, Hughes watched, carefully noting minor details in the alchemist to give him the necessary clues to where the man was headed. Roy carried only one book in his hand, but the pocket of his jacket had a bit of bulge that was just the size of a purloined bottle. That he had his jacket on at all was another clue.
All those little details narrowed down the options to three - all of them outside and all of them relatively private. Perfect - you see patience does in fact have its rewards. Hughes gave Mustang another ten minutes to reach his probable destination. By the time Hughes returned his book and located the man, Mustang should be well settled.
Careful planning was everything.
So twenty minutes later, Hughes opened the roof door very softly, closed it in the same manner, and made his way with care across the still warm roof. The sun still gave off enough light to read by, the temperature had already dropped and would continue falling through the night. Spring was always an unpredictable time of year. Which made an odd sort of symmetry because this meeting would likely be as unpredictable - at least the outcome.
Ahead of him was a dark hard just barely visible against one of the vent boxes on the roof. He heard a deep voice speaking in a low murmur as Roy was wont to do when engrossed in a subject he had yet to thoroughly master. When he estimated that he was in fact close enough to lessen the chance for Roy to bolt easily, Maes no longer walked so quietly, kept his eyes on Roy, and let it be known through expression alone that the younger man was not going to brush him off this time.
Yes, Maes Hughes had finally reached the end of his formidable patience.
"We need to talk." He stated plainly despite the slightly panicked look in Roy's eyes.
"There - ."
"You've been avoiding me for damn near two weeks, and I've had it." Sorry, but he wasn't letting Roy stop him this time.
"I already s.."
"I get why, but I think you owe me here. You can't just drop something like that in my lap and then get skittish because I didn't know what to say."
"Maes, I already told you it didn't matter." Sentences overlapped and Roy had recovered a bit faster than Maes had anticipated - damn.
"Nope you."
"It's nothi.."
"Don't say that a.."
They weren't quite shouting at each other, but Roy was standing now with an equally stubborn look on his face and showing no sign of letting Maes say What Needed To Be Said, their voices had raised, and his careful plan had started to unravel. Irritation flickered over Hughes face. His hands twitched and before he realized what he was doing, Hughes had both hands fisted in Mustang's jacket and had pulled the man closer with scowl.
Drastic times and all that jazz.
What he did realize was the moment that he kissed the alchemist and silenced, finally, all the protests and negations that Roy had been ready to launch at him again. That Roy didn't respond except to freeze up was both satisfying and slightly annoying. Hughes pulled back with a sigh.
"You can't just confess you have feelings for me and never give me a chance you know." Roy blinked, dumbstruck. So Hughes just kissed him again though slower, softer, and without the overriding need to shut the man up this time around. When the rigidity left Roy, and he curled one arm then both arms around Hughes shoulders, Maes felt a rush of relief. While it was a touch strange to kiss another man and hold him close, it was a pleasant sort of strange that only seemed to add to the experience rather than detract from it. Perhaps it was only because Roy had been, still was, and always would be his best friend.
Though from now on he would remember this as the most effective way to get Mustang to listen.