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Havoc really had to get Ling to stop answering the door in varying states of undress. There was a courier who was never going to be able to think of Havoc the same way again, provided he managed to pry his eyes out from behind the frantic blush. Havoc almost thought the kid might have decided military work was not for him the minute Ling answered the faultlessly polite knock in nothing but his hair and a halfhearted attempt at a towel.


Well, the more embarrassing bits had been covered.


Almost.


Poor kids eyes had bugged out, then frantically tried to bury their way as deep as possible behind lids that had been closed in immediate self defense. Ling had taken the missive from the traumatized youth with a polite smile, unfortunately neglecting to hold onto one side of the precariously balanced towel.


Which allowed the courier, who had cracked his eyes open in order to snap a salute, to see exactly what the towel had been balancing up on. Tenting was a fine word when one was referring to an unfortunate state of arousal in ones dress slacks. This had more of a coat hanger effect. To be fair, it was a small towel, and thin, rather flimsy. More of a handkerchief, all things considered...but really most people could have managed a crude joke and wandered off with a bit of dignity intact. The kid had obviously never been in a barracks shower. And had no siblings. And lost his father at an early age. Hell, he probably had never had looked at his own equipment. There was no other way to justify the little squeak that emerged from lips pressed tight against such a protest as the salute was aborted in favor of a strategic retreat.


Which left Ling to close the door, rearrange his towel, and frown over at Havoc, who was busy trying very hard not to laugh from his place on the bed. "What did I do wrong?"


Havoc propped himself up on his elbows and grinned. "Obviously the kid has no eye for men."
"And you do?"


"Naw, I am just trying to get you over here so I can read my mail."


Havoc did get his mail. And almost got all the way through the lengthy missive before he was ultimately distracted by a certain foreign dignitary with problems in keeping his hands to himself.


Roy, being an understanding man as well as a fair commander, deigned not to inform Havoc just how late he was, and even managed to avoid letting the other man know he had some...bruises visible on his wrist.


"You could have called." Havoc, with all his usual respect for rank, informed Roy when he had wheeled his chair into the room. Ling closed the office door, and lounged along the back of Havoc's chair.


Roy did his best to ignore the fact Ling resembled nothing more than a satiated cat. One with rather sharp claws, if those were scratches Roy caught sight of on the side of Havoc's neck. "I didn't want to disturb you..."


"New kid drew the short straw?"


"Indeed." Roy settled back in his chair, content and at ease as he hadn't been around Havoc in...well, months. He had missed the joking, the teasing. And there was something else...


"So, what was so important you spent two pages babbling about nothing to get me interested enough to come over?"


Roy glanced at his watch, glanced at the daunting pile of paperwork on his desk, and stood. "Lunch."


"Mustang, I am not one of your woman to confuse into going on a date with you."


Roy really, really wanted to pretend he hadn't seen a flash of possessive jealousy in black eyes. Something told Roy being considered the Xingian's competition would not be healthy for him in the long run. "Of course not." Roy soothed. "I would appreciate your company though."


"Ling?" Havoc asked, turning his attention to his charge.


The Xingian grinned, a toothy expression. "It would be my pleasure."


"Mustang, you're not saying something. Spit it out, or I'm not going anywhere." Havoc tapped the arm of his chair with the rather crumpled letter that had been delivered earlier.
"Ah. About that..."


"Yes?"


"The library staff would like me to ask you to stop...it is rather distracting..."


"You're blushing."


"I am not."


Havoc tossed back his head and laughed. "Well damn. Ling, my friend, we have done the impossible. We have flustered the infamous cool of Roy Mustang."


As Havoc turned his chair and, still chuckling, followed Ling from the office, Roy figured it out.


Settled against the back of Havoc's chair was a rifle. The man was armed again, for the first time since he had hauled himself out of the hospital bed he had grown to hate.


Jean Havoc was back.