Title: Over the Bridge
Main Characters: Hughes/Mustang
Synopsis: If your best friend told you to jump off a bridge, would you?
Author's Notes: Total crack. Crackbrothers in the Academy.
Disclaimer: We all know I don't own FMA, right? Good.
Over the Bridge
"C'mere. I got something to show you."
Roy squinted up at his friend and put down the book he'd had his nose pressed against.
The first time he'd heard those particular seven words, they had been four years old. And damned if they hadn't gotten into trouble peeking through the crack in the door at Maes' parents doing things that four year olds shouldn't be looking at. He should have learned then to ignore those words, but he was four and could be forgiven his lack of better judgement.
Over the years, his judgement had gotten better, but he still couldn't resist it when Maes gave him that certain smile.
So, he sighed and unfolded himself from the chair beside the window. "What this time, Maes?" He asked.
"Just c'mon. You'll like it." Again that smile. "Trust me."
Again, a set of words that should have had Roy running, screaming for the hills. But if–as his mother had asked him all those years ago–Maes had asked him to jump off a bridge, he would stripped down to his skivvies and leapt over the side. Despite the fact that he had yet to learn to swim. So, curious, he followed Maes through the halls of the Academy.
They took a circuitous route, one that Roy was completely unfamiliar with. "Where are we going?"
"Don't worry about that. Just come on."
Last warning. Roy shrugged and followed.
For the past four years, they'd been just about everywhere in the Academy. Lower-classmen halls, Middle-classmen dorms, Upperclassmen suites, they'd been through it all. Almost every classroom, every laboratory, and of course all three libraries. But this was a hallway that Roy didn't remember seeing. It was dark, lit only by wall sconces, and lined with closed doors of a dark, glossy wood. He wondered if this were the dormitories belonging to instructors. To date, they hadn't been brave enough to come ihere/I and he wondered what Maes had to show him that warranted such an adventure as this. Though, it would be nice to run into Lieutenant Colonel Dyson. Just the sound of her voice made him want to do hours and hours of extra credit in her Stratagem Class, and to look at her legs in that dress uniform skirt... pure bliss. When he grew up and became the leader of this man's army, he would make sure that the standard uniform for all women would include that sweet little skirt, with maybe a few key modifications.
Maes stopped at door at the dead end of the hallway. Marked with no identification, it stood there like the entrance to a mysterious world. Especially with the way Maes looked left and right and behind them, like he expected hall monitors any moment.
"Sh!" Maes finished his surveillance, then put his hand on the knob, turned it and pulled the door open.
A broom closet.
Roy frowned and looked at his friend. All the subterfuge for a damned ibroom closet/I? Perhaps graduation stress had finally gotten to his friend.
Maes grabbed him by the wrist and yanked, and suddenly they were in complete darkness, surrounded by miscellaneous brooms, mops and other things that smelled strong and sharp and reminded him of the mess hall after hours.
"If you please, Mustang, some light?"
Roy blinked through the darkness. "I didn't bring anything to–,"
The glisten of metal suddenly bloomed in his vision. He reached up and felt the object with his hands; a lighter. He opened it and turned the flint wheel. With the spark, he made a tiny ball of flame that he held in limbo between his hand and the floor. "Hurry up, this thing will eat all the oxygen it can get and get bigger and–,"
"Just–need one second–ah, there!" Maes had shoved aside a few broom and a bucket, and moved a rather big canister out of his way and, squinting, Roy saw that he'd cleared a space big enough for the two of them. "Okay. Put that out and come here."
Roy snuffed out the flame ball and moved into the small space. And it was then that he saw what Maes had been trying to reach.
Two tiny holes, drilled into the wall. Light shone through the wall from the other side, piquing Roy's curiosity. "What the hell is that?" He asked.
"The gates of heaven," Maes told him, grinning so wide he could see the man's teeth in the darkness. Then he turned and bent, placing one eye to one of the holes. He waved a hand, indicating the Roy join him.
Roy eyed the hole dubiously. Again, the last time he'd placed eye to such a stray hole, he almost lost an eye through some practical joke of Maes'. Another of his mother's warnings coming true.
He wondered what she'd warned him about that would apply to this situation. He sighed fatalistically and bent, placing his own eyes to the hole right next to Maes'. At the sight before his eye, his jaw almost hit the floor and his brain squealed to a shuddering halt.
Lieutenant Colonel Dyson's skirt was nothing compared to the sight before him.
"I got a look at the blueprints to this part of the Academy," Maes was saying. "And I realized that this wall lead straight to the dormitories on the girls' side."
"What else do you think you're looking at? Unfortunately, it's only the Lower-classman, but still. I don't remember sixteen year old girls looking quite so pretty back in my day."
Roy lifted his head and stared at Maes. In his day? As if he were a doddering old man, heading for retirement. Maybe he'd been spending too much time in Colonel Grumman's company. Now that was someone halfway to meet his maker. Luckily, Roy wouldn't be so old when he made Colonel. Luckily, he would start his stint in the military as a Major, having passed the examination that officially made him a State Alchemist five whole years ago.
And, right now, with the images that danced before the eye pressed to the hole in the broom closet wall, he was glad that he'd chosen to take his lumps in the Academy with the rest of the men his own age. He would never have had the privilege of casting his eyes on such nubile beauty otherwise.
For a moment, until his eyes adjusted, all he could see was a blur of skirts and legs and flashes of white that could be nothing but button down shirts and... then his vision cleared and he realized that some of those bits of white were flashes of... panties. Pure, crisp, white-as-snow panties, wrapped around skin that could only be soft, of varying shades of pink and pale and dark and dusky. Roy almost licked his lips.
"Gorgeous," he murmured.
"Way too young for us," Maes answered in this same soft, awe-filled voice.
"Way too young... but still."
"Our parents would kill us."
"Their parents would kill us."
"Look at that red head."
Roy gasped suddenly riveted by another of the girls. She was seated on her bed, one of the eight in the room, her legs crossed at the ankles. She was dressed in the short, blue skirt and knee socks that marked her as one of the brand new students–virgins, they were called by the upperclassmen, and her hair was scraped into a neat, severe little blond ponytail. Her hands moved with a quiet efficiency, her pretty brow creased in concentration. He squinted, trying to get a better look.
"What are you looking at?" Maes wanted to know. Roy waved at him to shut up; the man was distracting him from his goal. Which, at that moment, was figuring out who the girl was. Because she looked both too young and too old to be one of the new students. She had to be at least sixteen, but the way she held herself spoke of someone years older.
And then he got a good look at what she was doing in her lap.
"Who's the girl with the gun?" he asked Maes, who knew everything about everyone who moved in and out of the academy to date.
Maes took a moment to look, then grinned. "Ah, yes. Her. She's really new. Last week, I believe. Got special dispensation because her grandmother is one of the professors. And her parents are in the military already."
"I hear she can shoot the petals off of a daisy at 300 paces with that thing."
"Bullshit. She can't be more than–,"
"Fifteen years, four months, seventeen days, and two weeks."
Roy pulled his eye from the hole long enough to stare at the side of Maes' head.
Maes said, "What? I make it my business to know these things."
Roy shook his head and put his eye back to peruse his visual prey once more. "She's..."
"And you haven't seen her ass yet."
Roy groaned, suddenly harder than the concrete floor in the gymnasium. "Shut up."
"Just wait. You'll see."
"How long have you known about these holes?"
Maes chuckled. "I drilled them. Four days ago."
"Yes, but you love me any way."
"Right now, I think I love the beauty with the gun."
"Hm. I bet you do."
That particular tone of voice grabbed almost all of Roy's attention. He'd heard it on more than one occasion–all right, more than ten occasions, to be precise. Another tone that should have warned him of imminent danger. He pulled his head back and regarded his friend, who was smiling at him. What little light there was from the holes bounced off of Maes' glasses, hiding the look in his eye. It didn't matter. Roy knew that tone of voice.
It was the one that Maes often used when he asked Roy to jump off the bridge with him. So to speak.
"You always have this thing for leggy blondes," Maes said quietly. Roy heard the stirring of fabric then gasped as a hand touched him in the darkness. "Leggy blond women, that is."
"Shut... up." Roy said in a slightly strangled voice. He should have known this was an ambush. Should have smelled it coming a mile away.
"What? I'm right, aren't I?"
"Makes you hard, doesn't it?"
"As a fucking rock... stop it, Maes!" Roy hissed, trying to push Maes' hand away. "We'll get caught!"
"How? All of the instructors are snoring into infinity. And I locked the door."
Roy leaned back. "How?"
Maes pointed. Roy squinted and saw the alchemical seal around the lock. "How in the hell did you do that without me seeing?"
"You were too busy with the blonde."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." And Maes' hand was back, plucking at the buttons of his trousers with no-nonsense flicks of his wrist.
"Damn it! You pick the dumbest times to get all horny and demanding and shit."
"Yes, but as always," and Maes wrapped his hand around Roy's obvious erection, "you rise to the occasion."
Roy could do little but turn his back to the wall and slide to a sitting position, losing his battle to sensation as Maes moved his hand smoothly up and down the erection. Right then, the whole wall could have dissolved behind him and he wouldn't have cared. "Shit, Maes!"
"You know you like it."
Roy arched into his friend's hand, offering no further affirmation. "Stop and I'll break your wrist."
"Hm... I was considering moving on to level two, actually."
Level two? Roy's eyes snapped open and he turned back to the hole. Peeking in, he noticed that his blonde had put her gun down and was unbuttoning her shirt, finally preparing to get ready for bed. As he watched each button pop on her shirt, he heard buttons popping elsewhere, somewhere to the left and behind him. A rush of excitement raced through him, at the thought that any moment, they could get caught, could be heard. That, peeking through the hole, he could very easily lose an eye.
Maes was tugging at him, pulling his trousers further down. Roy distractedly wriggled, helping his friend out. Regardless of the inherent danger, he wasn't about to turn down such an invitation. He never turned down such invitation, not while he had the chance. Graduation was coming, and with graduation, came duty and with duty came other commitments.
Commitments in the form of a quiet beauty name Gracia and gold bars on his shoulders.
Something cool and slick touched him and he gasped. "Always prepared, Hughes?"
"Hm. Mother always taught me to be prepared for..." Roy could hear him shuffling into position, "for any circumstance."
"I like your mother." A slick finger penetrated him and he almost froze in place. "Cut it out with the baby shit. We don't have too much time before we're missed."
"You giving me an order, soldier?"
Roy gritted his teeth. "We have one more month, you son-of-a-bitch, then I'll outrank your happy ass."
"Until then... we do things my way."
Roy sighed and pressed his forehead against the back wall of the broom closet. "Three points. Three fucking points and you think you're the damned Fuhrer–ah!"
Okay, so maybe he needed the baby shit. Because those two fingers were stretching him and it istung/I.
"See? Now who knows better?" Maes moved the two digits smoothly, making Roy see stars.
"Okay, so maybe you were...good god...right."
"I was right what?"
"I believe I was about to fuck you." The fingers left him gasping and bereft. "But if you're gonna be so insubordinate..."
"You. Were. Right... sir."
"That's better. Now look at your pretty blonde while I take care of business here."
Roy raised his head and looked. She was talking with another of the girls in the room, smiling a pretty little smile. Roy sighed, then barely managed to hold back a strangled cry as Maes slid in full length.
The girl started suddenly and looked in their direction, frowning slightly.
"Shit! She's looking...fuck!... she's looking over here."
Maes froze as Roy pulled his face from the wall. They held their position for a second, then Roy took an exploratory peek. The girl was back talking to her friend. He relaxed, then stiffened when Maes continued his stroking. Maes bent over him then, his breath hot in Roy's ear.
"What's she doing now?"
"Damn... she's got a beautiful set of... shit, Maes... she's putting on her night gown."
Roy bumped his head on the wall. "Okay, c-could you...?"
"Sorry." Maes slowed his roll just enough to keep Roy from getting a concussion. "Tell me what else is going on in there."
He tried to keep his mind on what was going on in that room, but it was hard the closer he got to release. "I...fuck it, Maes, I can't... just..." he hissed as Maes gave in to a particularly quick and vicious thrust. "Like that..."
"So easily distracted..." Maes chuckled, then reached around him. It was a good thing he was already on his knees, or else Roy would have collapsed. It only took a few strokes before he was gasping and shuddering and coming all over Maes' hand. He waited until the moment Maes would least suspect, then, grinning, closed his eyes and bore down, just a bit. Just enough.
"Wonder what the cus-custodians will thi-think... when they see..." The rest of Maes' sentence was cut off as his climax caught him completely unaware. Roy chuckled. Maes muffled his shout in Roy's shoulder.
Roy decided to be nice and give him a moment to compose himself before bucking. "You know you should lay off the pastry cart in the mess hall, Maes."
Maes withdrew and looked around for a cloth to clean himself up. "Your mother seems to enjoy the weight, bastard."
Roy told his long-time buddy what he could do with comments about his mother. Then, just out of curiosity, he took another peek.
The hole he looked it was blocked with something. Frowning, he tried to see what it was, then heard the unmistakable sound of a gun's hammer being cocked.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" He hissed and scrabbled back, tying to pull up his trousers and stand at the same time. "Out, Maes, out! Damn it!" He pushed a weakly-protesting Maes out of the closet and shut the door.
They looked around for any bodies in the hall. Sighing, they realized they were still alone.
Maes gave Roy a look to melt steel and straightened his jacket. "What is wrong with you?"
"That girl–the one with gun–she–,"
Maes' eyes rounded. "You're kidding?"
"Well, you're noisy when you come."
"Well, your head is hard when it knocks against the wall."
They rushed back to Roy's room. They reached their sanctuary undiscovered; Roy leaned against his locked door and sighed in relief. "My mother keeps warning me about you, but I never listen. One of these days, I'm going to get my head blown off in one of your schemes."
Maes leaned against Roy's small desk and grinned from ear to ear. "I promise I'll give you a nice eulogy."
Roy rolled his eyes. Then an aftershock hit him square between his eyes and left him trembling. He shook his head.
Over the side, every time. Damn that bridge.