He hadn't really planned to take the kid to his apartment. But Mustang was working late, again, and things just sort of happened.
He didn't want to say that he was /lonely/, exactly, because he could always call up the guys for a round of poker or hit the bars. But when night came, and he was alone again in his apartment or in Roy's, the empty sheets were a cold comfort. Most nights he stayed at the office- like he was doing tonight- in his office next to Roy's, listening to the colonel's muttering and occasional calls.
No, Havoc couldn't be lonely, because having Roy, however seldom, was reward enough for his trouble. So there were no fool excuses going through his mind when he saw lieutenant Broche pass in the hallway. He just found himself standing up and following.
He remembered to shut the lights off behind him. "I'm going, Mustang," he called, as he passed the colonel's office, and got a grunt in reply. Ahead of him in the hallway the kid turned.
Havoc raised a silent eyebrow at him, and the two walked outside.
Standing on the steps of the Central military building, the kid fidgeted, while Havoc lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "... Sir?" he heard. "We're... ah, should we be standing under the light, sir?"
Havoc looked up at the streetlamp above them and silently walked to the middle of the block. He breathed deeply. Broche's footsteps were loud behind him.
"I've wanted to fuck you for a long time, kid."
He couldn't see the sergeant's face, but Havoc heard him gulp audibly. "Lieutenant Havoc, that would constitute fraternization... wouldn't it, sir? And that's...."
Havoc turned. "Well, now, let's see," he said. "You've been staring at me in the mess since you got here- hell, you're always staring at me- you find excuses to get your orders from me instead of from lieutenant Hawkeye or Ross; when you talk to me your voice gets all sh-shaky and n-n-nervous and high/... You tell me, Sergeant, are /you interested in fraternization?"
"No," Broche said quickly.
"Fine by me," said Havoc. He shrugged and started to turn away.
Some quiet cursing. "Wait!"
Havoc stopped walking, and he sighed. "Make up your mind, kid. It's a yes-or-no question- do you want to get laid tonight or not?" He could almost hear the kid thinking.
"If I say no," Broche asked finally, "are you going to leave me here?"
"Well, then..." Broche paused. "Yes."
"Yes, what?" asked Havoc, hiding a smile.
"Sir!" Broche yelped indignantly.
Havoc grinned. "All right, enough of that, I guess," he said. "If you've made up your mind, I think you'd better follow me home." He winced when Broche bounded up to him. "What are you, a /girl/? My apartment is six blocks away. Keep fifty paces behind me, and I'll leave the door open for you."
As the city clock chimed one, Havoc ambled back to his apartment, the same as most nights. The only difference was the furtive shuffling going on half a block behind him. Hearing Broche stumble over the curb, Havoc winced, and wondered if he was really in his right mind. There was no way he could keep it from Roy- even if the man didn't have some kind of freakish insight towards his lovers, the kid couldn't keep it from everyone. His commander would guess in a second, come morning.
Not, Havoc thought slyly, that Ross would be one to object.
He reached his apartment in unexpected time, and shut the door softly behind him. He sighed and kicked off his boots as he started to unbutton his uniform, hanging his coat neatly on the rack when he was done. About three minutes later, he moved into the living room to avoid being clipped by the door as it swung open.
"Lieutenant," Broche greeted.
"First off, that's not my name," Havoc said. He paused. "You can call me Jean," he allowed. "I don't let most people call me Jean, so you'd better be a hell of a good lay tonight."
"Fair enough, lieu- Jean." Broche saw Havoc's coat hanging by the door and moved to do the same with his, but he paused, fingers hovering above the insignia on a third coat. "... Jean?"
Havoc cursed when he saw Roy's spare uniform, same as the man had left it, two mornings ago. "Ignore that," he said.
"That's a colonel's stars," Broche mused. "But who... oh- Mustang. You've been fucking around with Mustang?" He whistled.
"Listen," Havoc said tersely, "any relationship between me and Roy isn't your business tonight, and it's not going to effect you in the future. That's something else entirely."
"Hey," said Broche, "did I say that I minded? I'm still here, aren't I?"
Havoc considered him, the blonde twenty-year-old leaning casually against his door. He was young, tall and thin like a sapling. Almost as tall as Havoc, for sure taller than Roy- although, most men in the army were taller than Roy, Havoc thought with a chuckle. And Broche was certainly well-built- and probably a virgin.
"You ever let a man fuck you before?" Havoc demanded, advancing on Broche, who shrank back a little.
Havoc grabbed Broche by the collar and pressed him against the door, lifting him off the ground as he kissed him hard. "Good."
There wasn't much foreplay as they quickly abandoned the entryway for the bedroom, Havoc kicking the door shut behind them out of habit. It had been a stressful day and Havoc was ready to get some relief- judging by the way Broche climbed into bed and pulled at the buttons of Havoc's shirt, so was he.
They fucked quickly, Broche's tears and moans mingled with Havoc's sweat soaking into the sheets, turning the cotton damp and sticky. Broche twisted a pillow between his hands, biting into the fabric to muffle his screams. Above him Havoc thrust, groaning quietly, and muttered a single-syllable name as he came.
Afterwards, they lay in silence, Broche on the bed and Havoc slumped onto the floor. He raised a hand to cover a yawn and looked at the clock, which read 1:39. Briefly, Havoc gathered that Roy must have gone to his own apartment for the night, but still he wished that Broche would go.
As if he had heard him, there was a rustling on the bed, and the blonde sergeant sat up, wincing, as he ran a hand through his long bangs. "It's been great, Jean," he said, "but my roomies will be wondering where I am. So I should be getting off."
Havoc watched Broche pad out of the room. He breathed deeply and grabbed at the foot of the bed to pull himself up.
Walking naked through his living room, Havoc had the uneasy sense that something had changed in his so far comfortable relationship with Roy, despite- or maybe /because/- of the fact that Mustang wasn't there. He was sure of it when he got to the door and saw Broche putting on the remainder of his uniform, carefully not-touching Mustang's, which hung between them like a heavy question.
"Me and Mustang," Havoc said, clearing his throat. "We're just fucking each other. That's all there is."
Broche looked at him with surprise, and something else that Havoc couldn't put his finger on, in his face. "That's good to hear," he said. "I'm sure that's great for you... Lieutenant Havoc."
He winked and gave a little salute before opening the door and seeing himself out.
Alone once more, Havoc stared at the door for some time before he roused himself and padded back into his bedroom. Flinging himself onto the bed- it was mostly dry now- Havoc noted to himself that to anyone who saw the fabric, there was no visible difference at all between what had happened that night and what happened on other nights, when he had Roy on his knees instead.
The thought comforted him, and Havoc slowly drifted to sleep, looking forward to seeing Roy in the office the next morning.