AN: Beginning of a drabble series after being inspired by Spades 44. Go read her work.

In the beginning there had only been two. Now there were three.

It all began that first week, when the relationship between Roy Mustang and Jean Havoc started. It was supposed to be a secret, but with such a tight-nit group as there's, everyone knew by the third day. That of course could be blamed on Breda.

And after a month, Cain watched them enviously, wishing he could have someone to look out for him as those two did for each other. But during the day he smiled, chuckling (because men did not giggle) silently at their antics that no one seemed to notice or just ignored. It hurt the worst, however, when he came home to a dark house, soaking wet and shivering with a dripping umbrella hanging limply from his hand.

He liked to watch them, inconspicuously and at times when they thought no one was there. They fit together perfectly even though the others said differently. No one knew them like Fury did, did not know the little quirks that made him fall for them in the first place.

It was hard to love a man. It was even harder to love two men who loved each other.

But when he woke up that one morning a year later with a pounding head and his stomach rolling, nestled amidst a scattering of arms and legs, Fury didn't know what to think. When coal black eyes opened to watch him, Fury almost panicked. What was he supposed to say to his commanding officer while in such a position? Mustang just pulled him into his arms and ordered him to go back to sleep and Havoc grumbled at the lost body heat. So Jean curved his body around Cain's once more and wrapped his arms around the younger man's waist, settling back to sleep.

After that first night, many more happened, sans the alcohol of course.

And Fury continued to watch them as if nothing had changed when everything had. He still laughed when Jean stole Roy's pens and when Roy retaliated by stealing Jean's cigarettes and then from there it escalated into an ongoing war that made them both seem like they were five years old.

And Cain smiled genuinely as he stood by the sidelines, eyes bright behind his glasses.

Cain could say he loved it the best when he came home to a lit house even though he was dripping wet. He loved it because Roy was standing there to hand him a towel with a raised eyebrow as Jean messed with his hair and Cain didn't even mind that he had breathed in some of the smoke from the older man's cigarette.

And in the dark of the night, when the other two were sleeping and he lay entangled in a protective nest, he would stay still, if just to keep this moment in his mind forever.