Breaking Havoc

A/N: This was finished like...crazy late at night. If there's any mistakes, feel free to point them out.

Warnings: Nothing, save for angst and non consensual kissing. Oh le no!!! *gasps* Jokes, jokes. No worries folks, things'll be heating up soon...I hope...

Breaking Havoc: Chapter Four


“Lieutenant, I’d like to see you in my office, immediately.” Havoc winced, those fateful words echoing in his mind as he watched his superior storm off towards his private study, Raven hair disappearing within as Roy closed the door with a sharp slam. Not only was the colonel back at work, but he seemed to be in the peek of health to boot. Joy. Havoc braced his hands on the corners of his desk, breathing in deeply through his nose as he dutifully resisted the urge to bash his head against the nearest solid surface. And his day had been going so well too…

Slowly, painstakingly so, he rose from his desk, clenching his jaws as his healing wounds were jarred from the position they had become accustomed to through out the day. It had taken him hours to get himself into a comfortable position, and he hadn’t planned on moving from it god damn it. He had even opted to skip lunch in favour for the comfort of a cig, a light, and an ash tray within an arms length of his seat. He groaned, running his fingers through his hair as he slowly moved towards the office at the front of the room, his stride as casual as he could manage in his condition.

“What’d you do?” Breda chortled a bit, smirk on his round features as Havoc passed.

“Dunno, probably forgot to hand in a crucial document or some sort.” Havoc grinned despite himself, hiding his trembling fingers by shoving them deep in his pockets. He was hurting so fucking bad.

“Again Havoc?” Falman shook his head, his scolding light hearted despite his normally serious demeanor. “That’s got to be the third time this month.”

“Honestly Havoc, you’re going to get yourself fired!” Fury blinked a bit, setting down another pile of papers on Hawkeye’s desk. “If you want to make it far in this business, you’ve got to pull your weight, you know that.”

“Yeah yeah, keep your pants on Fury. I’ll hold my own.” Havoc waved dismissively over his shoulder, before moving up to the door, his knuckles wrapping on the heavy wood. It was just a courtesy, as Havoc knew very well that Roy was waiting, most likely impatiently, for the second lieutenant to walk into the room. The sharp ‘come in’ was enough to cause Havoc to flinch. “Hoh boy…”

He carefully turned the smooth brass handle, peering back over his shoulder at the sympathetic gazes behind him before slowly slipping inside. As the door clicked softly behind him, Havoc found himself staring, sure enough, at a very irritated looking Mustang. Laughing nervously, as he was accustomed to doing each time he approached his superior’s desk, Havoc mentally prepared himself for the barrage of question he knew were coming. He stepped forward, suppressing a wince as he clicked his heels together, giving Roy a lazy half salute.

“At ease.” Roy stated, his gaze trained very carefully on Havoc’s every move, his eyes searching for something, a hitch in the lieutenants step, a twinge in his tightened shoulders, anything to betray whatever it was Havoc was Trying so hard to hide.

“What can I do for you sir?” Havoc relaxed a bit, dropping his arm as smoothly as he could manage, despite the uncomfortable tug at his aching back.

Roy scowled darkly, his fingers locked beneath his chin as he propped his head up on his elbows. “You’re injured, aren’t you?” It was more a statement than a question, an incredibly observant one at that.

Havoc startled, his eyes widening a fraction. How in the seven hells could Roy pin point his problem, right off the bat. He was pretty sure his movements were the same as they were any other day, and he hadn’t let the pain seep into his features at all, so why was it that Mustang always seemed to know? He swallowed, forcing a casual grin on his features. “Ehe, yeah. I was beat up by some big brute last night and…”

“Don’t lie to me Havoc.” Roy’s voice was deadly calm, his eyes darkening slightly. “Hawkeye told me that you sounded close to tears on the phone last night. I’ve never seen you cry Lieutenant, not because of pain anyway.”

Havoc quieted a bit, his expression hardening as he focused his gaze on the band signifying Roy’s rank, the one that sat proudly on the shoulder of his uniform, rather than on the other man’s face. Mustang sounded really, really fucking angry. But if Roy was pissed now, Havoc didn’t even want to think about how furious the Colonel would be if he found out the truth.

“Who?” Havoc winced, the harsh threat in Roy’s words practically sinking into his skin, his wounds twinging with pain as his body tightened. The Colonel’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t missed the little twitch in his subordinate’s expression. “Who did this to you Lieutenant?”

Now it was Havoc’s turn to scowl. What did last night have anything to do with his work? He got fucked over in his spare time, it was none of Roy’s damned concern. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so irritated, possibly it was the dull throb that had begun to shoot down his spine, he couldn’t actually be sure. “With all do respect sir, I got into a fight off the clock, and I don’t feel that any of this is your business. It’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it.”

“Jean…” Roy growled, his gaze narrowing as he slowly straightened, flattening his palms on the surface of his desk as he glowered at Havoc. The blonde felt a strange mix of fear and guilt clench in his belly at the sharp tone used for his first name. Mustang never addressed him so formally at work. Even when they were out on the town, it was always Havoc, never Jean. Roy must have really been furious. “What happens to my men is my damned business and you know that. You’re hiding something from me Jean, and I don’t like it. The last time one of my men tried to do something behind my back, they ended up face down on the street, a bullet in his chest.”

Havoc felt his stomach drop, the mention of Brigadier General Hughes a tug at his heart. He knew why Roy was so upset, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to say what Archer had done to him, even if he’d wanted to. “I’m sorry sir…” He sighed, shaking his head as he tugged at the hem of his uniform, trying to ease the pressure of the cloth against his torn flesh. “But, that’s it, there’s nothing else for me to say to you.” The room fell silent, his words seeming to shatter the stilled air. Havoc shifted, the burning discomfort in his back causing his insides to churn as nausea gripped him. He had to get out of there, the stress of standing almost too dizzying to take. “Is there anything else you require my presence for sir?”

Mustang’s eyes narrowed, his lips drawn tight as he ground his teeth angrily. But he didn’t move to stop Havoc. “Fine.” He snapped after another moment, his chair turning as a tired sigh escaped him. Havoc could no longer see the other’s face, but he knew that Roy was becoming frustrated. “I trust that you are telling the truth Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. If you aren’t, you know very well that that is direct insubordination, a crime you can be court marshaled for.” He paused again, his framed completely covered by the chair back, giving Havoc nothing to base any speculation on as to what Roy was feeling. “You are dismissed. Get back to work.”

Havoc saluted briskly, though no relieved sigh spilled from his lips. He didn’t know how much longer he could last, the pain in his back completely overwhelming him as he turned on his heels, moving as quickly as he could manage out the office door. Confused eyes found him as he stumbled a bit back into the other room, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Fury was the first to speak, his eyes widening beneath his glasses as he gaze fixed itself firmly on his military friend. “What’s wrong Havoc? You look pale…”

Havoc shook his head, smiling shakily as he moved out of the room. “Just a bit of a bitch fest and a bruised ego.” He murmured, waving lazily over his shoulder before he was out into the hallway and bolting towards the bathroom. No one had a chance to even fathom a response, he was long gone. He stumbled through the chipped door, his hands finding the edges of the smooth, porcelain sink before he heaved, retching the contents of his stomach into the shallow basin before him with a shaky groan. His arms trembled, the bitter burn of bile in the back of his throat bringing tears to his eyes. “Fuck.”

He allowed his head to fall forward, his brow resting on the cool surface of the mirror with a shuddering sigh. His eyes dropped shut, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks as he scrambled blindly to grasp the handles of the tap. His fingers wrapped around the cool metal, giving it a few quick twists before water began to pour out from the faucet. He cracked his eyes open a bit, another choked breath escaping him as he peered down at the vomit-splattered sink, disgust curling in his belly. He back burned so badly that he couldn’t even see straight. He stood back, his vision swimming as he placed a palm over his eyes, trying to maintain his balance. He drew his hand down, wiping the back across his lips as he spat out the lingering taste of bile from the back of his throat.

He sighed, drawing forward and grabbing the soap bar from the porcelain counter, his breath still shuddering and tears still flowing freely from his eyes. Why did stuff like this always happen to him? What had he done to deserve the wrath of whatever higher power controlled him? He shook his head, sniffing loudly as he lathered his hands, washing away the stench of his illness.

He allowed the water to run over his hands a moment, the warmth of the liquid giving him a tiny fragment of relief as he let out a tired sigh. He really couldn’t handle much more of this day. It was almost over anyways. He had like, half an hour left in his shift. There really wasn’t any point in going back to work. He shook his hands a bit, before cupping them, catching some water and bringing it to his mouth. A couple good swishes and he spat it back into the sink, the taste of vomit now completely gone. Satisfied, and significantly less dizzy, he turned off the tap and wiped his hands on one of the towel’s that hung on the bathroom wall.

He was finished, he’d done more work that day than he’d done in over a month. Riza would just have to forgive him for taking off early. Having worked himself up mentally into the idea of skipping the end of the day, Havoc pushed out of the bathroom and moved briskly towards the exit of the building. He’d just go home, change his bandages, and take a nice, long nap before dinner.

Havoc was halfway to the exit, when a door opened right in front of him. He stumbled back, his body jerking slightly as his shoulder hit the wall, jarring his already aching back. He let out a startled cry, his breath catching in his chest at the tug of pain that shot up his spine. He hadn’t been prepared for the sharp sensation, the dizzying shock of his wounds pulling open causing his just quelled tears to flow from his eyes once more. He hitched back a choked sob, his hands flying out as he stumbled. “Fuck.” He grabbed at the wall, leaning on the cool surface as a shuddering pant escaped his lips, his body trembling as he waited for the pain to pass.

He was so far gone that he barely noticed the large, icy cold hands that curled around his shoulders, leading him gently, disturbingly so, into the open room before him. He still couldn’t see, the clouds of white that had flooded his vision blocking his sight as his mind swam. The arms that guided him so carefully pushed him down, setting him on what he could only assume to be a couch. The soft cushions provided little comfort to his healing rear, but eased the pressure off of the swollen, aching flesh of his back and shoulder blades. “Deep breaths now.” A voice cooed, one of those hands sliding up from his forearms and gently cupping his cheek. The gesture should have been kind, comforting, but it sent a shiver down Havoc’s spine, wariness slowly beginning to ease it’s way into his gut. That voice sounded all too familiar, but he just couldn’t seem to put a face to it.

His mind was clearing now, the pain easing away as his vision slowly focussed, the blurry figure in front of him coming into view. He still couldn’t make out any distinct features, the tears that welled in his eyes skewing his vision as they dripped down his cheeks. Something really didn’t feel right. He scowled, trying to pull away from the hand that held his chin, but the grip was too strong. A soft noise of disapproval sounded through the room, Havoc’s head gently tilted to the side as a small kiss just barely brushed past his cheek. “Maybe I was too hard on my poor little puppy, I do hope that I haven’t broken you just yet.” Havoc froze, jerking his head as a pasty pale face and a wicked grin came into view. “You’ve done a good job though pup, hiding it all I mean. Not a drop of blood to be seen, and the swelling in your cheek has gone right down, not even the shadow of a bruise left.”

“Archer…” Havoc winced as the Colonel’s hand tightened almost painfully on his chin, jerking his face forward until he was nose to nose with the dark haired man. The blonde bit back a whimper, his expression that of agony and disbelief as his hands shot up, trying to remove Archer’s fingers from where they had dug into his cheeks.

“However, it seems as though I have been a touch too careless in cleaning up after my messes.” Havoc’s head was tilted up once more, despite his best efforts to pull away Archer’s wrist, and the older man gently pressed their lips together in a ghost of a kiss. The other hand was running through his hair now, gently combing through his golden locks as Archer drew back, a smug smirk on his features. “What would you have done, what excuses could you have possibly come up with, had you run into anyone else in this sorry state?”

Havoc could see perfectly now, could make out every self-satisfied twitch of that bastard’s lips as he fondled the injured Lieutenant like one would a lover. “Stop it.”

Archer’s spirits weren’t at all dampered by the feeble protest, smirk holding strong on his features as his hands gently drew away from Havoc’s trembling frame. “Give me a moment.” He stated, turning and moving over to the other side of the small room. Taking the release of his face as an opportunity to flee, Havoc scrambled to his feet. He had barely made it two steps from the couch, when Archer was on him once more, twisting his arm up behind him back with a burning aggression and spinning him around, pulling him forward until their chests were pressed flush against one another. “Ah, ah, ah. I can’t have you leaving like this. At this rate, you’ll bleed through your uniform before you make it through the door.” He shoved Havoc, a little less gently this time, back towards the couch. The lieutenant stumbled landing hard with a small wince. “Take off your shirt.”


---tbc---