Havoc is waiting outside Central HQ when Edward Elric comes stomping out, slamming the door behind him. He gives a wave and a smile, aimed to throw Ed out of his anger; with most people, Ed will at least try to respond politely.

"Ah -- Lieutenant." Sure enough, Ed's suddenly out of stride. He hasn't quite lost his anger, but he's got no particular reason to take it out on Havoc. "Thought you were off duty."

"I was." Havoc grins at him, tapping his cigarette out and tossing it away. "But I heard you shouting with General Mustang, and I figured you might want company.

He will, Havoc knows, though years of being around Ed in a temper has shown him that it is the last thing Ed thinks he wants. At eighteen, Ed's still young enough to think that he's perfectly self-sufficient, but he's not happy when he's alone. Usually his brother's around to help with that, but not now, off visiting Rizenbul and the people who live there.

"It's okay," Ed mutters, hands shoved deep in his pockets, skuffing his boots on the cement. "I'll just head over to the library."

Havoc opens the passenger door and gestures. "Need me to drive you home? Hop in."

Ed looks uncomfortable, grinning at Havoc a bit awkwardly, hands raised as if to ward the offer up. "Nah, it's fine. A bit of fresh air will clear my head."

"Nah," Havoc says cheerfully, countering his refusal and tossing it away. "Hop in."

And Ed sighs, but he goes. Havoc shuts the door behind him and heads around to climb in his own side. "Library, you said?"

"Yeah, sure." Ed sounds distracted, and he doesn't protest when Havoc pulls out and goes in an entirely different direction.

Havoc drives in silence for a little while, aimlessly, until he hears Ed sigh, like he's letting something go. It's his cue to talk, so he glances at Ed in the rearview, sees Ed looking more amused than anything else. "What was it about this time?"

"Eh." Ed shrugs. "Mustang had promised to review my plans for my assessment, because it ties in well with some of his work, but he backed out and rescheduled."

"Just a reschedule? That's not so bad."

Ed shrugs again. "Yeah. Not so bad -- except he's doing it because he has a date. Some bimbo being more important than my work, because he can't keep it in his fucking pants for more than ten minutes--"

"Not some bimbo," Havoc corrects, and tries to keep the old ache out of his voice. "Her name is Suzanne."

In the rearview, he sees Ed raise his head from where it had been resting against his closed fist. "Lieutenant?" Ed's voice is almost wary, not quite sympathetic -- not sure if he had to offer sympathy, of course.

"Bad luck," Havoc says, and shrugs. "I work close enough to the General that the girls I'm dating always see him eventually, and the moment they do, out I go."

Ed's face freezes in near-shock. "...That bastard's been taking one of his closest friend's girlfriends?"

It's strange; for some reason, he hasn't thought Ed might know they're friends, not just commander-and-subordinate. "It's not that," Havoc says, and he knows he's sounding rueful now. "He wouldn't do it on purpose. He just -- Yeah, he's got this reputation." Without thinking much on it, Havoc turns left, the way he'd take to go home, then mutters a curse at his mistake. "...but he hasn't really done much. He's just -- what everyone wants." Ed's still watching him in the rearview, and Havoc tries to explain better. "The General's not got much of a mind for actual romance. He's never noticed when people around him want him, unless they hand him love letters or shit. He just... doesn't see it. But girls will drop their lovers on the off chance that they can catch the attention of Roy Mustang. And sure, if they get up the guts to actually ask him, instead of just getting hearts in their eyes whenever he goes past -- well, he'll take 'em up on it. Who wouldn't?" Havoc sighs.

"But--"

"Thing is," Havoc continues, "because he doesn't notice when people want him unless they make it explicit, he also doesn't notice when other people are dating around. I remember one time I lost a girl to him and he had no idea -- he figured out that, yeah, I was moping because I didn't have a girlfriend but he had no idea he'd taken mine. Tried to hook me up with someone right away, even -- he wouldn't do it if he knew. But for someone who gets that many dates, he's pretty oblivious."

Ed crosses his arms and thumps back against the seat. "Why the hell would that matter? Dating isn't just about appearance--"

"And the General's not just good-looking." Havoc manages a grin at Ed in the rearview mirror. "He's powerful, and charming, and noble, and idealistic, and a damn good person at heart. Seems like if someone doesn't fall for one of those traits, they fall for another. Who'd want me when they could have that?"

"I would," Ed says, so quietly that Havoc almost doesn't register what he'd heard.

He's strangely proud of himself for not having hit the breaks, or sped up, or even let the car swerve. Instead he keeps driving, steady, and takes another turn towards his house. "You would."

Ed looks away, out the window. "...Just, you're always moping after some woman or other. Don't worry about it," he mutters. "I'm not pining over you or any shit like that. I know you don't like guys, and that's fine. Just saying that some people do notice you."

Havoc pulls the car to a slow stop in front of his apartment. "I've experimented with a guy or two," he admits, slowly, and tries to bring his heart back down from his throat. "Not a lot. I generally prefer girls."

"I said, don't worry about it." Ed blinks out the window at the apartment, but doesn't ask. "Though, frankly, you should have better taste in women anyway. The type of girl who'd throw a guy over just 'cause they found someone with prettier looks and a bigger salary isn't the type of girl you deserve." Ed still doesn't look at Havoc. "I've known you a long time, Lieutenant. You've seemed pretty lonely all that time. Deserve better, I think."

He doesn't know what to say, and puts the clutch in, and turns the engine off. Eventually, he finds his voice, inhales once, exhales, and finds something relaxing inside him. "Do you want to come in?"

"Eh." Ed's still pretty quiet, not looking. "Sure. Studies can wait. Don't need 'em prepped for tomorrow now anyway."

He gets out and goes to open Ed's door, only to find him already out, stretching his back. He's gorgeous, fine blond hair pulled back in a braid to accent the sharper features of his face. It's not the first time Havoc's thought Ed's gorgeous, but he'd discarded it every other time. Too young, too obsessed, out of reach. But he isn't any of those, not any more.

Havoc lets him in, and Ed looks around. There's surprise on his face, because Havoc's something of a messy guy, but he knows how painfully bare and tidy his apartment looks.

"Do you even live here?" Ed asks, brows furrowed. He's already got a wrinkle between his brows, at eighteen. "What the fuck." He sniffs the air. "Can smell cigarette smoke, but other than that--"

Havoc smiles, wry. "I work late," he says. "And get in at six every day. Mostly just come back to sleep -- the bedroom's a bit more lived-in. Can I get you some c--"

"The hell," Ed mutters, and stalks around the apartment, opening doors until he finds Havoc's bedroom, and goes inside.

Following, a little uncertain what to do now, Havoc stands in the doorway and watches Ed going about the room. He sees Ed notice the few mechanical bits he has stored in case one of the cars he drove needed a little help, and the picture of his parents on his desk, and the piles of laundry on the floor. Ed stops in front of the bed, then throws himself down, propping his arms behind his head.

"You didn't make your bed," Ed says, and there's a certain amount of relief in his voice. "For a moment I thought I'd misjudged you or something."

Havoc laughs; he can't help it. He suddenly wants a cigarette, and knows that's not what he really wants.

Ed sits up, weight on one arm, and looks at Havoc seriously; he realizes, after a moment, that he hasn't gone past the doorway, but he can't quite bring himself to.

"Come on," Ed says, and sighs, almost aggravated. "It's okay."

And he can, after all. Havoc enters, and grins apologetically, coughing to hide his nervousness. "Sorry, boss," he says. "Haven't, ah, got with many guys, and none of 'em were people I knew."

"That's okay," Ed says, maybe deliberately misunderstanding. "I have, I know what to do. And it's 'Edward'."

"...Can I go with 'Ed', boss?"

"Whatever." Ed grins at that, and there is a hint of relief on his face. "Come here."

It's his apartment, his room, his bed, and Ed's ordering him about. S'fine, though, and he goes. It's obvious where this is going and there's no reason to pretend it's not, so he unbuttons his uniform jacket as he goes, tosses it behind him.

Ed looks him over and grins. "See? It's not that hard to do." He tugs his own shirt over his head, and flexes his automail, hesitating a moment. "There wasn't enough between the two of us to restore us both," Ed explains, almost awkwardly, though Havoc already knew he'd kept his metal arm. "I know it's not very appealing, but--" He looks up at Havoc, face tight, and Havoc realizes that on some level, Ed's still disappointed and so he expects other people to be, too.

"It's not so bad," Havoc says. He's never touched Ed's automail before, but he lets himself do so now; it's slightly warmer than air temperature, probably from being close to his body all day, and hard and smooth under his touch. "Unusual but, hell, this is all unusual. Doesn't make it bad."

Slowly, Ed nods, then reaches up and grabs Havoc's shirtfront, hauling him down. "No," Ed agrees, and kisses him, hard.

Havoc's used to girls, and he's never dated the type who'd be the aggressor; he's never had a kiss like this before. Hard, sure, strong. He exhales heavily through his nose, hand closing on the solid curve of Ed's automail shoulder, trying to get himself some balance, one knee on the bed. And Ed's good; he wasn't lying, he has experimented -- but then, he's eighteen, and finished his life's goal almost for two years, and has had a lot of free time to try to find himself again. Havoc makes a low noise into Ed's mouth, bites at Ed's lips, matches the intensity -- and it's the right thing to do. Ed groans, his voice low and thick, and tugs Havoc's shirt out of the uniform pants, sliding his hands under the tight black fabric.

Havoc closes his eyes on that feeling, stomach tightening; one hand's warm, the other's still cool enough that to the sensitive skin on his belly, it almost hurts with cold. But both hands are steady, sliding up to his chest with the surity of someone who's handled the male body before, who knows it and doesn't have any secrets to look for. Ed's hands brush the hair of his chest, passing lightly over that, and slide out, around, and down again as Ed mouths at Havoc's lower lip, sucks it into his mouth and bites down, not quite gentle.

"Damn, b--Ed," Havoc groans, when Ed lets go of his mouth enough to let him. "You, uh -- whew."

Ed grins, a bit flushed and clearly pleased. "Good," he says. "I'd be pretty damn pissed if you were doing this just 'cause it was better than nothing at all, Lieutenant."

"Nah," Havoc says, taking hold of the hem of his shirt with crossed arms and tugging it over his head. "...Just never thought you would."

"See?" Ed sounds exasperated but amused. "And then you groan over Mustang being oblivious."

Havoc laughs, and lets himself trace the scars on Ed's chest; Ed's eyelids lower a little, contentedly. "And it's Jean," he says.

Ed blinks at him, almost lazily, his hands tracing patterns over Havoc's skin, toying with a nipple. "Eh?"

"My name. Not Lieutenant. Jean."

Eyes wide, Ed pretends shock. "IS that your name? I never-- Hey!" He laughs, dodging Havoc's mock-punch. "Okay. Jean. How far do you want to take this?"

"How far do you?"

Ed snorts. "I'm a man," he drawls sarcastically. "What do you think?"

Havoc gestures at himself, pointedly. "I may not have done much of this, Ed, but, y'know -- now's as good a time as any."

Grin broadening, Ed nods. His automail hand dips down, cupping Havoc through his pants, shifting enough to make Havoc hiss. "I like that."

"Good," Havoc says, and kisses Ed again. Ed's grinning into the kiss, more teeth than anything else, hand not stopping, and Havoc groans.

"But, y'know," Ed says, almost off-handedly as he unfastens Havoc's uniform belt, discarding the tails and unzipping Havoc's pants enough to slip a hand inside. "That means I'm topping, so if you wanna back out of it, say now. Because if you haven't done this before, even had it done to you -- sorry, not letting you. Not big into pain." His tone is more matter-of-fact than apologetic, and if it had been said any other way, Havoc might have been inclined to take offense.

As things are, he can only shrug. It's a bit awkward, but not really worth worrying about when Ed's hand is inside both pants and boxers, stroking him with a firm grip. "Ah -- no time to learn like now, Ed?"

"I like you," Ed says, which seems a strange sort of answer, and slides his hand out of Havoc's pants to undress, unbuckling his belt and rising to push his pants down and kick them off. He looks good, Havoc thinks, and isn't terribly surprised. Ed always looks good.

"But, ah --" Havoc scrubs at his head again, leaves his hair ruffled as he turns away slightly to finish undressing. "If we're doing that, don't we need some kind of, ah--"

"I can take care of that."

Havoc blinks at him. "You take it with you?"

Ed's voice is almost exasperated. "I'm an alchemist," he points out, though last Havoc knew, sexual aid transmutation wasn't on the list of recommended subjects. Clearly he'd been doing extracurricular activities. Naked, he walks around to Havoc's bedside table and claps his hands together, touching it to the stale water he's got in a glass there.

After the crackles fade, Ed turns back with a grin and a glass of honey-coloured viscous liquid. "See?"

Havoc shrugs, and takes a seat again. "Yeah," he says, thickly. "I see."

Ed straddles his thighs, and leans in to kiss him again, his free hand taking hold of Havoc's cock and pumping. "This is okay?" he asks, and it's more gruff than uncertain, but it reminds Havoc that Ed's young, and Ed's apparently wanted him for some time and not said anything.

He tangles one hand into Ed's braid and kisses back, firmly. "It's fine," he says."

Ed relaxes, and nods. "Good," he says, and lets go, slowly. "Slide back, okay?"

Havoc does, and knows enough to roll over onto his front, gathering his knees under him. Ed strokes a hand down his back, less like petting a cat and more like he's trying to feel every muscle under there at once, then lifts his hand away. When his touch comes back, it's warm and wet and in a place he has to fight the kneejerk reaction of things don't go there.

"This okay?" Ed asks again, circling his fingers, nothing more, and Havoc sighs, nods.

"It's fine," he murmurs. He tenses up as the tip of a finger presses in, but breathes more deeply, forces himself to relax. Ed takes him at face value, and Havoc presses his forehead into his arm against the pressure as Ed presses his finger in far enough that Havoc can feel his knuckles pressing gently against his flesh.

Ed doesn't give any reassuring words, or ask for confirmation every step of the way; as he continues to prepare him, thrusting first with one finger, then pressing another one in, and a third, he's almost completely silent except for the growing roughness of his breathing, and somewhere along the way it's become good. It burns a bit, too tight, too much too soon, but no more than the aching burn of muscles he's gotten from calisthenics without warmup -- and those didn't have the sparking start of pleasure to go along with it.

And then no fingers, but blunt pressing heat, and he grits his teeth into the bedsheets. "Ed," he mutters. "Warn a guy."

"Sorry." Ed's voice is distracted, and Havoc can't blame him; he chokes as Ed pushes in slowly, heat and ache and burn and pressure, like he can't breathe around it. He tries, finds his breath shallow and needy.

Ed stills when he's fully in, hands stroking Havoc's sides. He hears -- feels -- Ed swallow, and Ed apparently took his words to heart, because he rasps, "I'm going to move."

It's good to have a warning against the shift as Ed pulls back, almost out, then thrusts in again. It's fast enough to almost hurt, but it's not quite pain, and he jerks at it, groans. And again, and again, and it's not pain at all any longer -- at least not that he can notice. Pleasure curls up his spine and he's reminded, incoherantly, of the crucified snake Ed wears on his jacket. And again and he finds himself fisting the bedsheets, groaning, pressing back on Ed in short, sharp motions.

Ed's breath catches and a whine starts up in his throat. His hands clutch hard at Havoc's hips and the slow rhythm is gone, it's just out the fucking window, and Ed's moving fast and hard and the aching need is just winding up his spine, and one of Ed's hands loosens from his hip to slide around and clutch at his cock and he loses it, letting out a shout into the bedsheets, caught on fire, unable to breathe or think or anything for a moment. And then slowly, he catches his breath, Ed still moving hard, slowly he feels himself relax, spine curving, and behind him Ed groans, hard, hips jerking to a sudden halt forward, heat spreading in a sharp stutter.

"Good," Havoc murmurs, finding himself sleepy in the aftermath. Ed shivers, pulling out, and flops down beside him, a smile curving his lips.

"Good," Ed repeats, one hand over his face to block out the overhead light.

Feeling like all his bones are made of Jelly, Havoc rolls over onto his back, and reaches for the bedside table. He manages to fumble his cigarettes and some matches out, and god, he feels like he's never needed one so badly. The first inhalation curls contentedly in his lungs and he sighs, lets the smoke trail up to the ceiling.

"I'm going to get some sleep," Ed murmurs, still watching him with shaded eyes. "That okay?"

"S'fine," Havoc murmurs, and smiles sleepily at him. "Sleep." He sucks on the cigarette again, the smoke a pleasant burn in his throat, and stretches all his limbs out. "Going to need me to drive you home later?"

Ed ponders this a long moment, watching him.

"No," he says.

And that seems to be that. Havoc watches him sleep for a long few minutes, then stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table and leans down to pull the blankets up over him.

"Good," he tells Ed, and closes his own eyes.