Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ And The Sun Will Rise ❯ Unfamiliar ceiling ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Rating: Chapter 3 is rated, uh, well,  a PG-13 minus. Highest rate will be NC-17

Warnings: for chapter 3: some delicate lemon scent; depression on Roy's part (as usual)

OKami's note: Wonderful ideas again. I draw, Lenihan thinks, both of us give our best in writing. This is how life should be. It would be much less troublesome.

Lenihan's note: I did the smut this time~! *congratulates herself* I'm not very good at smut, OKami's much better at it. But it's very light smut, so… *winks* Even I can do it. Yay for mission "Cheer up Colonel Mustang". ^^

Chapter 3: Unfamiliar Ceiling

There is the sun and moon,

They sing their own sweet tune,

Watch them when dawn is due,

Sharing one space.

(Al Jarreau - Moonlightning)

The car stopped in front of the house of colonel Roy Mustang. Fury permitted himself to take a quick peek at it before he opened the door to help Mustang out of the car. He smiled when he saw the fields of grass, only slightly adorned with two pots of plants to either side of the door. Clearly, the famous Flame Alchemist did not care much about gardening.

"We're there," he said quietly to the black-haired man when he opened the door. Mustang grunted slightly, trying to move around, but the thick layers of clothes hindered him in his movements and Fury stretched out his hands to support him. The smile broadened when he thought back of the discussion all those clothes had caused.

"I am not ill, sergeant major," Mustang declared hotly. "I don't need to be wrapped up in all those garments like some fragile, sick child. I've got a concussion, not the flu."

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's what the doctors have ordered me," Fury managed to say neutrally, although his heart nearly burst from happiness. If the colonel was prepared to argue about some clothes, he was definitely getting better! Fury knew Mustang wouldn't have cared about it before.

"To hell with doctors," Mustang spat. "I am not going to walk around like one big ball of clothes, sergeant major. I order you to ignore those comments."

Yes, colonel Mustang was definitely getting better if he started to say things like that. "No, sir. The doctors were quite explicit about it. If you refuse this, sir, then we have to wait for the weather to clear, which might take several days."

Mustang mulled that over. Then, with a sulky expression on his face, he spread his arms. "Fine," he grumbled. "Go ahead. Put on all those clothes."

Fury had to suppress the urge to laugh. This was not the proper time for that. But colonel Mustang did look quite adorable when he pouted…

"Where's that damned key?" Mustang muttered as he searched in his pockets for the key.

"Ah… sir? I've got the key." At the questioning gaze that was more or less directed to him, Fury explained, "The key had fallen out of your pocket during the accident. Lieutenant Hawkeye collected everything afterwards and when she heard you were going back home, she gave the key to me." He fished the key out of his pocket and opened the door. "There. Let's go quickly inside. I think it's going to rain soon."

The house was scrupulous clean. Unlike the attitude of laziness and chaotic he often showed to his crew during work, the inside of his house proved that Mustang was in reality quite the opposite. The hall alone was already well organized with one place destined for all the shoes and a rack for all the coats. A quick glance towards the living room told him that it was just as organized. The small soldier caught a glimpse of something big and black too - a piano? Could the colonel play piano as well? Wow…

Mustang fought with his coat, trying to unbutton it. Fury moved over to him to lend him a hand. The colonel's arms fell limply beside his body when he noticed the help and he let himself obediently being peeled out of all the garments.

Fury's elation switched over to a sudden nervousness when he realized he had actually no idea how to behave himself, what to do and all that kind of things. He watched how Mustang slowly found his way to the living room, one hand using to support him, the other for searching touches.

"Um… sir? Would you like something warm to drink?"

Mustang paused for a moment then nodded. "Coffee would be nice."

"Coffee will be on its way," Fury said as cheerful as possible to lighten up the air, but the taller man didn't hear him. Sighing inwardly, the sergeant major moved to the kitchen. Just like with the hall, everything looked clean and tidy here as well, with the fridge and all the other food supplies in one place and the scullery, plates and the like stacked up at the other side. There was one small table with a single chair and several books lay about. Apparently, the colonel was not as tidy as he first thought.

Fury put on a kettle of water and began to collect the books. With a sharp pang, he realized the colonel might never be able to read them ever again, but he pushed that feeling firmly away. It was a temporary blindness, it would be better soon.

"Here, your cup of coffee, sir. You always drink it black, right?"

"Hm."

Fury looked around. Several bookcases filled up the walls. Apparently, Roy Mustang liked to study in his free time. A closer look, however, told him that not all the books were meant for study. His ears took on a reddish glow when his eyes encountered the titles of well-known erotic novels.

"It looks very nice here," he commented to keep a conversation going.

"Hm."

The small man realized his mistake a little too late, but tried to smooth it over with the suggestion, "What would you think of some lunch, sir?" As he walked back to the kitchen again, he clenched his fists. One day, he promised himself, one day, you will be able to see it all again, sir.

To divert his thoughts, he opened the fridge looking for ingredients he could make a nice meal out of. However, he found pretty much nothing. Save of several bottles of beer, a small piece of cheese and some tomatoes, it was empty. And the tomatoes had already grown hair.

Fury carefully took those out - one could never be sure what was in an alchemist's fridge - and got rid of them quickly. Then he paused. He needed to do the groceries now if they wanted to eat and the colonel had to eat something good and substantial. With slight worries, he walked back.

Roy found the armchair and was sitting in it, staring into the nothing with a distant, sad expression. Fury swallowed hard.

"Um, sir? There's nothing in your fridge, so I have to go out for a while to shop… will you be all right?"

"Sure, sure," Roy waved a hand dismissingly. "I won't get out of this chair until you return."

The small soldier hung his head. Now, that lasted short, the livelier mood.

"Well then, I'm off, sir. It won't take more than twenty minutes."

Fury fetched his umbrella and walked out into the rain. It was a pain to see his superior like this and he felt like there would be a weight put on his shoulders.

Roy sipped his coffee slowly. It was hot like liquid fire and as bitter as his life. The colonel smirked sadly. He didn't want to be so passive and grumpy; he really didn't mean to depress Fury too, but… That goddamned rain always ruined his mood. Not just because it rendered him powerless, but it brought a chill into his bones. Mustang hated the cold.

The coffee had been devoured to the last drop. The man hesitated a little with the cup in his hands then stood up. Very carefully - he assumed the sergeant major would get a heart attack if he found his superior with more bruises or broken bones - he began to make his way towards the piano.

It was a little odd, to have such a big instrument in his home; but Mustang liked it and he learned how to play when he was a little child. His mother taught him. By the time he left his parent's house at the age of eighteen to join the military, Roy was quite skilled. So skilled in fact, that he could play some songs even with his eyes closed.

He placed the cup on the top of the piano and settled down on the small chair. He turned up the lid and ran his fingers over the keyboard absent-mindedly. Then, he began to play; first, just accords, parts of the song. His fingers remembered the right moves and the tunes grew bolder and finally turned into a beautiful, sad song.

Fury heard the sound of the piano when he opened the door and as he listened to the melody, practically glued to the spot he stood on, tears gathered in his eyes. How true, that music was the universal language. The song told many things without even the lyrics. There was despair, sadness and longing in it.

When Roy finished the song, Fury cleared his throat.

"I'm back, sir."

Mustang turned to him a little alarmed and his smile was somewhat… apologizing?

"I'm a little out of practice…"

"Then, sir, it is best to continue!" the small soldier exclaimed cheerfully. "I'll make the lunch and you just keep on practicing."

While Fury walked into the kitchen to prepare the meal, the piano's sound rose again. The song was a bit merrier this time.

Maybe one hour later, a very delicious scent began to spread in the air. Roy closed the piano and sniffled.

"Hmm, this smells nice. What is it?" He called out to the kitchen.

"I made schnitzel for lunch, sir. The trimmings are boiled potato; I added some butter and a little parsley to that too."

"That sounds good." The colonel walked to the table and sat down. Fury brought in the dishes and the meal and served the food.

Roy reached for the fork and the knife first; then realized that right now, he couldn't even eat properly. After all, he wasn't able to see his food.

"Allow me, sir." Fury smiled gently and began to cut the meat up for his superior. Roy's embarrassment and anger grew with every second.

"Open up, please." Roy nearly cursed but obeyed the kind order. His pride shattered with every bit of food. Dammit, he wasn't a child who needed to be fed! With the cute nurses in the hospital… that was a different story.

Suddenly, an idea surfaced in his mind. Well, it won't be very elegant, but definitely less humiliating.

He took the napkin and with as much dignity as he could muster, Roy tucked it into his collar.

"Fury, would you be so kind to cut all the meat up?"

"Of course, sir… Here, ready."

"Thank you," the colonel nodded and picked up a piece with his fingers. "You're surely hungry too," he explained "so I don't want to hinder you anymore. Just eat."

Fury watched the older man, as he continued eating, using his long, skillful fingers. He felt sorry that the colonel thought on this - he was so cute with an open mouth, waiting for the food - but such was life. The small soldier was happy that his superior was able to get along with the new circumstances.

"Fury…" the colonel began after some minutes. "You're going to stay here, until I recover, right?"

"Y-yes, sir. I hope I won't be a bother…"

"I don't think so," Roy assured his subordinate. "Where would you like to sleep?"

For a moment, some VERY pleasant images ran through the sergeant major's mind, but he steeled himself.

"I'll sleep on the couch. I can sleep nearly anywhere, so that will do just fine."

"All right. And what's up with your stuff? I mean clothes and such…"

"Lieutenant Havoc promised to bring them over." Fury was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. "That'll be him."

The rest of the afternoon was spent with adjusting the colonel's place for two persons. Then, the small soldier made dinner; they both took their turn in the bathroom and wished good night.

***

A playful melody danced through the air. Sweet, cheerful and invitingly the tune was. Fury smiled absently as he carried a tray to the living room. There he found colonel Roy Mustang behind the huge black piano, his slim, pale fingers moving lightly over the keys.

"Which song is this?" the small soldier asked when the song had ended. "I don't recognize it."

Mustang smiled. "I would be surprised if you did." His hand caressed the smooth surface of the piano. "I composed it myself when I was younger. It's a special song. Not many people get to hear it." Despite the fact he was blind, Roy managed to give a sly look at his subordinate.

"Why special?" Fury inquired.

"Because…" Roy stretched out the syllables as long as possible. "Because it's a song I only play for those I love." Another sly sideglance. Fury's heart began to beat faster. Could it be… Only played for those he loved. There was no one else here in the house except for him and the colonel.

"S-Sir?"

"Roy, please," the black-haired man drawled as he rose to his feet and slowly shuffled to the smaller man. "It's Roy for friends, Cain." A pale hand ran over his face like it had done before with the piano. "So soft," his superior murmured. "So soft and smooth." The fingers stopped at his lips and Fury had to resist the urge to kiss them - or lick them, playful as he sometimes was. Colonel Mustang was simply trying to see his face with his hands, there was no way that-

A kiss banned all thought. Gentle, tender and far too light to please the inner urges of the small soldier. His breath became deeper and more in gasps and a reddish glow decorated his face. To his disappointment, however, Roy took a step back and turned around.

"I need something from upstairs." A smirk cast in his direction. "I need someone to guide me to there…"

"O-of course, s- I mean, Roy." He took firmly hold of his superior's hand. "Let me show you the way." Gently, he led the blind Alchemist to the second floor. "What was it that you needed? … Roy?"

Strong arms enfolded themselves around the smaller soldier's waist and another kiss was given on his cheek. "You," Mustang murmured, nuzzling his face in Fury's neck. "I need you." A third kiss, on his ear this time. Fury giggled.

"S-sir… Roy… Not there, that tickles!"

"Tickles, hm? Well then, do you like this better?" The lips moved to his own lips. Fury, feeling bolder than usual, welcomed that gesture with open arms and allowed the charismatic dark man to kiss him deeply, to dip with his tongue inside his mouth and to explore what lay beyond it.

After a while, the kiss broke off and Roy let his hands wander lightly over the white shirt, unbuttoning each button his fingers found. Fury shivered with pleasure and arched his back slightly to expose his bare chest. Roy carefully bent forward and placed his lips on Fury's left nipple, then moved over to the right one.

"Roy…" It came out as a sigh. The older man smirked and pushed him onto that heavenly soft bed…

"Mhmmm… Roy… R-Huh?" With a shock, Fury bolted upright and he gazed confused around. Hot disappointment filled his mouth when he realized he was not together with his superior, but lay instead on the luxurous sofa in the living room. Sunlight already peeped through the curtains, announcing that it was morning.

Fury sighed. He should have known it was just a dream. After all, something like this would never happen in real life, only in his dreams. Besides, Mustang's house didn't have a second floor.

He rolled off the sofa and walked towards the kitchen. He'd better prepare breakfast before colonel Mustang would wake up too.

***

When Roy woke up next morning, he noticed the fine scent of toast linger in the air. He sat up and sniffled.

"Fury?"

"I'm here, I'm here!" The cheerful answer came. "Good morning, colonel! The breakfast is ready; it's toast with butter and strawberry jam. Which would you prefer, milk of coffee?"

"Let it be milk," Roy sighed. He heard the small soldier's steps as he entered the room and felt the tray on his lap.

"Enjoy." Fury's voice was full of sunshine and sweetness. Roy briefly pondered on his own smile, but then shrugged mentally and began to eat. The sergeant major continued talking.

"It's a beautiful day, sir. The sky is clear and a soft breeze blows. I fetched the newspaper already; I can read it up to you if you want me to."

"I don't have anything else to do, do I?"

"Ah, sir…" Fury scolded softly. "You're lucky that you're alive. I'm sure your sight will return. Just be patient."

"I'm as patient as I can be, Fury," the taller man remarked sarcastically. "I have my whole life to wait."

The smaller soldier hissed angrily.

"Here. Drink your milk." He handed out the glass. "It does good for the eyes too."

"It doesn't," Roy said calmly. "It does good for the bones, but not for the eyes. And besides, my eyes are all right, the damage was done on my brain. "

"I know, but I had to say something to divert your thoughts!"

The colonel stopped for a heartbeat. Fury sounded so sincere… 'He really worries for me,' Roy thought.

"Fury…"

"Yes, sir?"

"Until you're here, just call me Roy, okay? And please, after I get up, I'd like you to read the papers to me."

"Of course, sir… I mean, Roy."

After he cleared up the breakfast, Roy fetched a clean underwear and went to the bathroom. When Fury returned from the kitchen where he did the dishes, he found his colonel standing in front of the wardrobe clad in nothing more than a pair of white boxers.

The breath caught in the small soldier's throat. Nobody knew about it, but he fell in love with Roy at first sight. He admired the tall, black-haired colonel; for his competence, for his charisma and for his beauty. But he never had the chance to see the man like this. Fury's black eyes wandered lower from the already faded bruise on the shoulders, to the narrow waist and hips and firm buttocks. The colonel's skin was pale and the small soldier got the sudden urge to touch it. He swallowed hard.

"Err… can I help?"

"Yes, help me find something that I can wear. I'm positive there should be a few shirts in the second drawer…"

Fury opened the said drawer and began to leaf through the garments. They were all neatly folded, but smelled like lavender, indicating that they were seldom used. At the bottom of the drawer, Fury found something. A brand new shirt; its packing wasn't even opened. The young man quickly wrapped it out and helped the colonel to take it on. As his hand accidentally came into contact with the bare skin, Fury felt like a tiny lighting would race through him.

"It's soft," Roy wondered. "I don't remember this one. How does it look?"

"It's a very light blue piece. I found it under the others."

"Ah! Now I got it! It was a present from Maes… I mean, Brigadier General Hughes."

"You were good friends, right?" Fury asked softly.

"Best friends," Roy corrected quietly. He ran his fingers through his hair. "When I'll find out, who murdered him…" his fist clenched, "I'll make that person get what he deserves."

Fury's chest tightened as he looked at the colonel's face. The taller man was trying hard not to show his emotions, but from how tense his body was and how he pressed his lips together, Fury could tell his superior's inner turmoil. He slowly placed his hand on Roy's arm.

"Roy… I know how you feel. Loosing a friend is a terrible experience and I can't say anything to make this easier for you but… Please, remember, that we are your friends too. Lieutenant Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Officer Farman and I and even the Elrics… we all like you and worry for you. And if you like us too, do us a favor."

"Which would be?"

Fury swallowed a little and blushed.

"Don't get down by the current situation. And recover quickly."

Roy remained silent for a while. Warmth grew in his chest and slowly spread out, chasing away the darkness of depression; maybe not completely but the silent plea of his subordinate definitely lifted his mood. Perhaps… perhaps he's not all alone. He smiled.

"Okay. I'll try."

Fury laughed a little and he threw his hands around the colonel. But in the next second, he backed away with a gasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry…!"

"You don't have to be." Roy waved off. "By the way, what's up with the papers?"

"Ah, yes, immediately!"

end of chapter 3