Breaking Havoc

A/N: Oh mai gawd. I am sooooo sorry for the long wait. So I basically moved out of my parents house this year. First year I spent at home to earn enough money to buy myself an apartment, now for my second year I'm bunking with a couple girls. However, our wireless keeps spazzing out. O___O Garrh! Anyways, we've spent a good few months without any internet, using internet cafes for most of our homework and otherwise just learning to deal. Hopefully, now that it's really working, I'll be posting as often as my schedule allows. Ja ne!

Warnings: Once again, not many warnings for this chapter. Mostly just plot developement. Next chapter things'll start to get juicy again. Just be patient okay?

Breaking Havoc Chapter 3: Coffee makes the World go Round

The loud blaring sound of Havoc’s alarm clock was not a welcome one from beneath his heavenly cocoon of warmth and nothingness. The noise registered in the back of his mind, jostling him from his deep sleep with a long groan. His mouth felt dry, his tongue a slab of cotton between his cracked lips. He couldn’t even manage a coherent thought, his mind groggy and his body heavy and aching. He moved his arms first, wincing as the dried scabs were forced from where they had come to form. His bandages were soaked through where visible, and he was sure were similarly so, where his eyes could not reach. There was no quick and painless way to do this. Well, there was a quick way, but it sure as hell wasn’t painless.

Taking a deep breath Havoc gritted his teeth tight, and rolled over. The pained gasping of air escaping his lungs was none to silent as he curled into himself a bit, the wounds ripping open as his body moved. “Shit. Shit. SHIT.” If he could just knock that pretty little smile off Archer’s face, just once, it would make this all worth it. “Mother Fucker!” His anger seethed out with his frustration, his brow buried deep within his mattress as he attempted with all his might, to get himself together.

A few more angered gasps, and he was straightening himself up. One more frustrated whimper, and he was on his feet, and well on his way to the bathroom. He was on a roll. He knew however, that getting to work on time probably wasn’t going to be an option. He didn’t even have to glance in the mirror to know that the half jarred scabs on his back and rear still clung to the gauze he had applied the night before. If he wanted to clean up, he’d have to soften up the scabs, and that called for a long hot shower. Not that he minded all that much. It would be worth a lecture and a bit of extra paper work to ease his pain even a little before work.

Not even bothering to step out of his boxers, and knowing that they were probably as blood plastered as the rest of his body, Havoc stepped into the shower and cranked up the heat. As hot as he could stand. No, maybe hotter. But it felt good. A pool of light pink was once again twirling down the drain, his boxers and the bandages that still clung to his body soon beginning to loosen with the weight of the water. He had managed to strip down within minutes, the combination of the damp and the heat enough to peel the fabrics from his skin effortlessly. The promised effort of cleaning the soiled rags on the shower floor was none to appealing, and instead Havoc turned his focus to hauling himself out of the shower, and getting himself cleaned up for work.

Stumbling forward he braced himself on the bathroom counter. The shower was still on, but he had to let the cold air seep in for just a moment. If he didn’t, he’d surely crawl back into the warmth of the water and leave. Once a good shiver had wracked up his spine, he forced himself to turn of the nozzle, before moving to grab the rest of his bandages from under the sink. He just barely had enough for a quick patch up, his wounds only covered enough to prevent them from leaking into his uniform once more. He flicked the door shut behind him, binding an old towel loosely around his hips as he moved to grab a clean pair of boxers and his uniform, which was hopefully dry.

Walking hurt like a bitch, his mind seething as he stumbled slightly, tugging sharply at his wounds. He had no time to sit and cry like a little girl. He’d done enough of that already. He had work to do, he had to prove that he wasn’t beaten. Not just yet. His uniform was dry enough as he finished maneuvering it around his hips and up his aching arms. Long sleeves, pants to the floor, and a collar to the chin. Really it was the perfect outfit for him. No awkward questions, no obnoxious stares, and no explanations for him to bumble. He was almost set to face the day. Almost.

He wasn’t sure that he could stomach any food. Not just yet anyway. But his body and mind sure as hell wanted something, and what better than coffee to pump into your body when everything else fails. Lighting up a cig he wandered into the kitchen. The coffee maker was somewhere under the sink. Or at least that was the last place he remembered it being. By the time he had finished fumbling with the strange brewing device on the counter, Havoc knew that he was already running late. He dug through his cupboards for a mug, one that he could take to work with him. Once the thick black liquid was done and sitting on the counter, he sloshed some sloppily into his mug, taking it black, and made a beeline towards the door.

Food was not an appealing thought, so limping out and into the car was the next thing on his daily agenda. Jesus, he hadn’t really got a good grasp on it yet, the tearing of the scabs on his back as he walked, the slow leak of blood into his bandages. What the hell had he done to deserve all of this shit?

No time to fuss now, he’d bitch about things later. For the moment, he had to get to work. Sliding in the front seat of his car he ran a hand through his sweat-drenched brow. He was straining himself, and it showed. He took another deep breath, gathering his wits about him before shakily sliding the key into his car and starting it up. There was no point in heading to work if he was just going to get himself killed in the process. He took to the road, eyes straining as he shifted slightly in his seat. His head was still spinning slightly from the day before, and he hadn’t had nearly enough caffeine to drown out the crushing headache that pounded at his skull.

He pulled into his parking spot at the military base, taking a moment to rest his fevered brow on the wheel as he grumbled mentally. This really wasn’t what he wanted to do today. He was exhausted, his entire body ached and he felt the effects of a slight fever warming his brow. One more moment wallowing in his own self pity, and he drew his keys out, kicking aside the door and stepping out of the vehicle. He shoved his keys in his pocket, stretching and wiggling slightly to get his bandages in a comfortable state, before slowly making his way towards the main building. He must have been a sight to behold. With the way he was limping and the light hue to his cheeks, he looked like a man who had been raped up the ass, which was a scary thought…considering that it had almost been true. He’d already sucked Archer off hadn’t he? Didn’t that make him the man’s bitch?

Havoc rolled his eyes at his own inner turmoil, putting a hand on his hip to take some pressure off his throbbing back. He’d just grin, making up some bullshit excuse for his injuries and finding a comfortable spot in his desk to sleep the day away. He could probably convince Mustang that he had tried to pick up some other man’s girl quite easily. Havoc had the WORST luck with women. Who knew. Maybe fate was just trying to tell him that he wasn’t meant to find himself a cute little Jane. Maybe a John would suit him better. Someone strong, handsome and cunning. Someone like Mustang maybe… He froze, his mind snatching up the thought as soon as it was released. Woah, woah, woah! Thoughts like that were NOT cool. In the least.

Bringing a hand to his chest the lieutenant took a deep breath. He had too keep his head. No more thoughts of Archer, Mustang, or anything else for that manor. If he didn’t set himself right he’d never last the day. He was already at the office door, and once he stepped inside he had to leave everything behind him. He’d work himself up to it, just count to three and open the door. He reached down, his fingers clutching the handle, when low and behold, the god damned thing swung open. Havoc blinked, suddenly finding himself face to face with a half concerned, maybe a little more than half furious, Hawkeye. “You’re. Late.”

Havoc winced a bit, bringing a hand up to the back of his head, the action strenuous at that, and laughing nervously. “Ehe, sorry about that. Had a bit of bad luck with a potential date last night. Had to sleep away the after effects of her boyfriends fist in my stomach.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, before slowly stepping aside.

“Was that why you called about the wine stain remover last night?” She asked, her hands clutching the clipboard that was placed flush to her chest, her tone holding a strong air of disbelief.

“Yeauh…he kind of dumped a full glass of red wine on me when he came back from the lou and saw me hitting on his girl. He was a guerilla of a guy too, the son of a bitch.” Partly true, Colonel Archer was NOT a small man. In any sense of the word. “Just my luck eh?” He chuckled, the noise a bit forced, but he hoped that it was fluid enough to be passed off as actual amusement. He strolled as casually as he could over towards his desk, spinning his chair and resting himself down as quickly as possible, without tearing open any wounds.

Fury pushed up his glasses, peering at Havoc from across the room. “You really need to be careful about who you try your moves on Havoc.” He stated, brows dropping down as he flashed his friend a sympathetic smile. “Maybe you could as the Colonel for some advice? He seems to do quite well in that department.”

“Thank you peanut gallery.” Havoc grumbled, twitching a little bit and forcing a smile towards his co-worker. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to catch up on some shut eye. I spent most of the night stumbling around drunk and I have a terrible hangover.”

“Well that’s your own fault you lush.” Brady called from over a small stack of paper work, a smug grin on his features. “You can’t shirk off on work just because you partied hard.”

“Oh yeah.” Havoc challenged, crossing his arms and returning the smirk. “Says who?”

“Says me.” Suddenly two large stacks of paperwork were dumped just in front of Havoc’s nose, causing the man to start. Groaning he peered up, the unamused, strict expression of their lovely office flower staring right back down at him. Riza put her hands on her hips, brows drawn down as a stern look crossed her eyes. “I want all of these done by the end of the day, or you’re a dead man.”

Havoc gulped a bit, uttering out a tiny ‘yes mam’ before scrambling to pick up his pen and start working. Hawkeye, seemingly satisfied, turned and moved towards her own desk, settling down to her days work. The soft chuckling in the room faded, and soon everyone was busy with their designated duties. Havoc let out a slow, relieved breath, before he drew his hands to his face. The paper piles hid his expression from the rest of the crew, and he slowly let the pain seep into his smile. Well, he handled that pretty smoothly. Now all he had to do was pray that a certain raven haired fire alchemist didn’t call on him. If he managed to avoid Mustang for the day, he’d be home free. But this was Havoc, and he knew very well that to him, the fates were never so kind.