Who: Roy Mustang & Marco What: Fucking shit up Where: The inn When: The night Roy and Riza house hunt Warnings | Status: Kissing | Log - Complete
Roy was drunk. It was sad how often his life began with that sentence. He was trying to be better about it, but sometimes his head got the best of him and he needed something to take the edge off. But one drink to stop his hands from shaking turned into three or four to make his brain stop thinking. That was why he was in the rundown room at the inn, sitting on the rickety little bed with his head back against the wall and his knees up, but spread apart, both hands hanging over them while he drifted.
He drifted up until the door opened and his eyes turned to look at who had come in. Don’t be Hawkeye. Don’t be Hawkeye, because he didn’t want her to see him in this state. He tried so hard to keep her from seeing him like this because he didn’t like the look in her eyes when she did. It was veiled upset and disappointment.
But who had come through wasn’t Hawkeye.
It was Marco.
Relief rushed through Roy for two reasons, one he wasn’t Hawkeye, and two, he’d come back. Roy had been sure he’d fuck off once Hawkeye came home because he was stupid. He didn’t know how important he was to Roy and how much the man needed him to be around. He didn’t think he was as important to Roy as Riza was.
Roy smiled at him, “I’m drunk,” he prefaced, sliding off the bed to reach for him. He wanted to hold him.
***
Of course he was drunk. Marco rolled his eyes good naturedly and let Roy hug him. The man really was an affectionate drunk, “Yeah, I can see and smell that.” He grinned, just standing there for a moment. Roy was taller than him, but not so much taller that hugging was awkward. The right amount of taller. It was probably bad that he was getting used to the hugs, it wasn’t like he was going to get them when he went home.
But he hadn’t come just to see Roy. Or well, he had, but not to hang out.
Not just to hang out.
This whole situation with Riza and Roy was absolutely ridiculous. Marco exhaled and then looked up at Roy with deep brown eyes beneath his dark curls, “You lied to me.” He said simply.
***
You lied to me. That cut the calm, happy feeling that settled into his chest right in half. Cold dread flooded into the space a beat later, so that Roy pulled away and looked down at Marco in confusion.
He lied to him?
He never lied about the things that mattered. Roy stared, his drunken haze not letting him think clearly. “What?” he finally managed to get out, sinking back onto the bed. He almost pulled the boy down with him but he couldn’t make himself do it, not while he stared into those brown eyes that were almost the same color as Riza’s.
He lied to him.
“About what?’ he asked, trying to force his thoughts into focus.
***
Marco kept Roy’s hand in his own as the man fell onto the bed, looking for all the world like how Marco imagined he and Jake looked when their parents caught them sneaking snacks. Back when they and their parents cared about things like that. Now nobody did.
He ran his other hand through his hair, “About you and Riza. You’ve slept together.” Marco said it simply, sitting down on the bed next to Roy’s legs and turning so his body was oriented towards the drunken General, “Why did you lie to me about it?” He asked, stroking Roy’s hand softly in a calming gesture.
That was what he wanted to know.
***
He lied about Riza. About he and Riza.
Of course he lied about he and Riza, because whatever they were or weren’t wasn’t anyone’s business but their own. He looked at their hands where Marco was stroking small fingers over Roy’s own. It felt nice.
Being touched felt nice.
For everything Roy did and wanted in the world, he mostly just wanted that. Dark eyes trailed back up to Marco’s face.
“Because I don’t like talking about her,” he said. Roy was an honest drunk, it was pretty pathetic. He was pretty good about keeping a lid on it up to a certain point, but when he went beyond that or was in the right company? He let it all out.
“She deserves better than someone talking about sleeping with her.” Roy respected her, that’s why. He didn’t kiss and tell.
The drunk man leaned against Marco.
***
Marco let the man lean on him, keeping the man’s hand in his own, smaller one and resting his head full of curls on Roy’s shoulder so that they were leaning on each other. He nodded at Roy’s answer, the hair brushing back and forth against the man’s shoulder and part of his back and neck.
He couldn’t help but snort, though, “She’s the one who told me, idiot.” Sure, she wasn’t outright about it, but they were both smart enough to understand what Riza had said.
“I get it. But… can you just say you don’t want to talk about it? Instead of lying?” Marco asked, picking up his head so he could look Roy in the eyes.
***
“That’s fine,” he said, “She can talk about it if she wants to.” It was her choice. He wouldn’t though. It seemed better that way because her comfort with the topic was more important than Roy’s own. Then Marco was looking at him and Roy met those brazen brown eyes looking at him with such earnest interest that he was left breathless. He reached up with a hand to awkwardly touch Marco’s stupid curls, awkward because he was drunk and he had to reach across his body to find them.
Worth it though.
He sighed softly. “It’s habit,” he said. “To deflect. I tell people I don’t want to talk about it all the time but they keep picking at it.” It was easier to lie about it. Asking for others to respect a basic boundary had fallen pretty flat. Everyone had an opinion on he and Riza’s relationship. Or non-relationship.
It annoyed Roy.
“I won’t lie to you,” he said.
*** Those two really were idiots. The hand in his hair felt nice, though, so Marco leaned his head into it, sort of like how a cat would. “Right,” He acknowledged Roy’s words. Then he thought about it for a bit, just sitting like that, head leaned into Roy’s hand while they held their other hands together.
Because what to say?
Marco picked. He pushed. He knew he did it, but sometimes you had to.
He bit his lip, “I’m not trying to…” Marco gestured with his free hand as though trying to say something, “Pick at it. I just want you guys to be happy together.” He said quietly.
***
It was nice sitting there in silence. Roy didn’t like silence often. His silences came in threes and the heaviest and worst of them was the silence of a man waiting to die. But this silence? The silence between thoughts, when they could simply exist in that space of human contact and think about each other instead of themselves was nice.
Marco spoke again, breaking the silence with quiet words. Roy looked at him.
“We have a long history you aren’t going to fix overnight, Marco,” he said gently. “She and I designed a path to walk together. It’s complicated.”
Complicated didn’t begin to explain it. She didn't want him. She kept putting distance between them just when Roy thought they could take a different turn.
Roy closed his eyes again. “I love her.”
She was so hot and cold though. She kept leading him on then dropping him just when he got too hopeful.
***
It’s complicated. Sure. Marco got complicated. Hell, look at his parents’ relationship. That didn’t mean that Roy and Riza weren’t idiots. They said they loved each other and at the same time insisted that the other person wasn’t their romantic or sexual interest, that there was nothing there. It was stupid, and it was hurting both of them.
He might not know much, but he knew that, “Yeah, I know.” Was Marco’s answer to all of that, the wheels turning in his head.
’Have you tried having sex with that person?’
No, but he could try kissing him. After all, if there was really nothing there, neither of them would care. If there was, then it should at least do… something.
Which seemed better than doing nothing. (Maybe that was how Rachel felt all the time).
Also, Marco really wanted to kiss Roy. So there was that.
The teenager leaned over while Roy’s eyes were still closed and pressed his lips gently against Roy’s, letting his free hand reach up and pet the man’s hair the way that he liked it.
’Please don’t laugh at me.’
***
In their silence Roy wasn’t expecting that. Everything about Marco was soft, though Roy never said it to Marco because it would just make his insecurities worse. But his lips were soft and they were touching Roy’s and it was so unexpected that the man should have pulled away. He didn’t, for a few reasons of which only three mattered. He was drunk and not thinking clearly, pulling away would only embarrass the shit out of Marco (and Roy went to huge lengths not to fuck him up more than he was) and most of all, he didn’t want to pull away.
So Marco kissed him and Roy kissed him back. Marco was incredibly inexperienced, Roy was not. He turned his body into the boy’s, reaching to drag him in closer, to deepen the kiss and then his brain kicked back into gear and the man understood what he was doing.
He wanted this. He wanted it so badly. He wanted Marco.
But he was drunk, and Marco was young, and Roy couldn’t let this happen.
Even so, pulling away was slow.
Dark eyes opened. He touched Marco’s face with gentle fingers.
“... we can’t do this.”
***
It wasn’t the reaction that Marco had been expecting. It was so much better. He found himself pulled onto Roy’s lap and the other man’s tongue was exploring his mouth with enough interest that it made a small sound come from the back of Marco’s throat as a hotness spread itself into Marco’s lower belly and between his legs.
He could kiss Roy forever. Forget breathing. He didn’t need to breathe. This was fine.
Or at least it was fine until Roy broke off the kiss and then Marco remembered that a.) He’d just kissed Roy and b.) It was okay for Roy not to like it. That was the point.
Wasn’t it?
His face flushed, especially when Roy touched his cheek, “Because of Riza?” He asked seriously, resisting the urge to smoosh his face into Roy’s shirt.
***
That little noise Marco made was tantalizing. It sent a jolt of pure pleasure straight through Roy’s core and activated all the desires and impulses inside his mind that said make more. He could touch the boy in all those awful places and have him squirming under his hands in moments. He could make him feel wonderful and desired and loved by giving him all the things he wanted. Roy could erase Marco’s insecurities and he would only need to do it by abusing Marco’s trust.
And that was why he didn’t.
No force in the world could make Roy betray that, desire or not. Need or not. He wanted Marco to trust and love him far more than he wanted to fuck him.
“No,” he said, threading his fingers through Marco’s dark hair, “Because it’s not fair to you.” He kissed his curls then framed the boy’s face, tipping his chin up so he was looking Roy in the eyes. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”
***
When Roy said that, Marco did want to smoosh his face into Roy’s shirt. He also wanted to scowl, which he did, since Roy’s hands on the sides of his (still red) face kept him from doing any sort of hiding. So what, Roy thought he couldn’t make his own decisions? What kind of bullshit was that?
“What kind of bullshit is that?” Marco asked bluntly, “I don’t just go around kissing people, you know.” He said, “Unless you’re some kind of sadist and that’s what Riza meant…” His voice trailed off as he considered it. Nah. Riza wouldn’t put up with it.
Would she?
“I wanted to.” Marco asserted, “I’ve been thinking about you since I saw you and I wanted to kiss you, so I did.” Sure, he’d had multiple motives, but that was just two birds, one stone.
***
He wanted to kiss Roy. He’d thought about him since he saw him. That wasn’t the case for Roy up until a few weeks ago. They’d gotten closer, Marco started being important. Roy wanted him around and Roy had started thinking about it. He’d fantasized about it.
He hated himself.
Levi had been right.
Roy swallowed back the words and furrowed his brows, trying to force his thoughts into order through his drunken haze. He let go of Marco to scrub a hand across his face.
“It’s okay,” he said. Who was he telling, himself or Marco?
“We can’t do it again, Marco,” he said instead. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. And I don’t want to do that. Ever.”
He never wanted to hurt him.
***
“I know,” Was Marco’s puzzled response to Roy saying it was okay. They were both fine, at least in so much as Marco could tell. He shifted slightly on Roy’s lap and watched the man closely, trying to figure out what was going through Roy’s head.
’I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.’
“That’s stupid,” Marco informed him bluntly, “I kissed you.” And that wasn’t how it worked, though he had to laugh a little at how wrong Riza had been. Marco wished, but no. He was some kind of…
He didn’t even know.
“But if you don’t want to, that’s cool,” He said seriously, “But you have to look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want to kiss me again.”
***
Roy contained the small sound when Marco shifted, but his weight was still pleasing. It reminded him that this situation was all wrong. So the General gently took the boy’s hips in hand and pushed him aside. Not away. He didn’t force him off, because he didn’t want to upset him. Just set a boundary. Limits were required.
He had to look him in the eyes?
Dark eyes met those deep brown ones. Roy reached up again to frame his face. Lie to him, Roy. Lie to him for his own good. You just had to say the words and he’d be alright. What was one lie?
You promised him you wouldn’t. Just minutes ago.
You wanted him to trust you.
Roy frowned. “I do want to kiss you,” he said. Fuck, you stupid fucking idiot. “Which is why I can’t. Don’t you see how wrong that is?” Marco was a kid. Just a teenager and Roy felt like he was using the boy’s insecurities and his youth for his own interests. He felt disgusting. And they’d barely kissed. But he wanted it.
***
When Roy spoke, Marco pulled his face away from the man’s touch and stood up, putting some distance between the two of them. He turned away for a few minutes. He wasn’t pissed that Roy was telling him no. He could handle that; he’d been attracted to people who weren’t interested before, it wasn’t the end of the world.
But everything Roy said put him in this… this box, and it wasn’t who he was, and Marco hated when people tried to make him that way. Just another shallow, vapid teenager. The part he’d played to the world. He thought that Roy got it, but apparently not.
When the teenager turned back to face the man, his brown eyes were cool, “Yeah, I do, if you’re looking at me as a category instead of as a person.” He bent down and picked up the bag that he’d let fall to the floor when Roy had hugged him. Marco put it on his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Roy.” He said, then he opened the door to the room and left, closing it behind him.