this is a direct result of a rabid attack by fic!bunnies of a most insidious nature. pardon the odd tone of this one. it just kinda...happened. lyrics are from "Temples of Gold" byKamelot. listening to itincited the fic!bunnies to riot.-fireun

"I see you when it snows
in crystals dancing down
from a sultry sky
when silence is pure and unbreakable
I can see you smiling
in every frozen tear
I can hear you whisper You and I"

"Whatcha doin'?" It was a bright voice, completely lacking in any sort of polite distance. It was almost as if the thought that the inquiry was not welcome had never crossed the speakers mind. Maybe if he kept silent, ignored him, the speaker would leave…The bench creaked slightly, indicating that the little formalities of human interaction were wasted on this one. Maybe a bulldozer would be more useful…

He turned with a frustrated snarl, slamming the book he has been studying closed with a smack so solid most people would have decided they had somewhere else very important to be right then. Not this fellow. Roy locked gazes with languid eyes that seemed completely unaffected by his very obvious ire.

"I am trying to read." Roy dragged the last word out before snapping the 'd' with military precision.

The interloper pushed square-framed glasses up his nose slightly, peering at Roy's badge for a moment. "Mustang, eh? Alchemist, I would assume by that musty book you are clutching."

He was either impossibly lacking in social skills or he was intentionally attempting to provoke someone rumored to have a rather spectacular temper. Either way, he was proving to be a nuisance as well as an ass.

"Before you decide to transmute me into a shoe or something, I was going to ask if you wanted to grab a drink. My treat." That seemingly oblivious face split into a toothy smile, one that suggested he knew exactly what he had been doing.

Which managed to catch Roy's interest. Someone who was dumb enough to provoke him and then ask him out to a bar…had to be either an idiot or a saint, and either way, Roy found himself wanting to figure it out. "Roy Mustang." He offered a hand, almost a peace offering.

"Maes Hughes."

"little did we know
that they were life itself
the days passing by
we both had our share in the sacrifice
once upon a time
we had something beautiful
once upon a time
I thought you and I"

"Shoes. Off the couch."

Maes sighed, not at all happy to relinquish the comfortable position he was currently lounging in. still, it was the other man's furniture. He swung his legs to the floor, pried each shoe off, and then flopped back into limp relaxation with a sigh.

"Did you just creak?" Roy raised one eloquent eyebrow, glancing up from his current book.

"Shuddap. I am far too young to be creaking." He yawned, defeating his argument with the exhaustion of the overworked. No matter how he tried to hunch his shoulders they still managed to hurt…

Roy listened to Maes shift for what had to have been the thirtieth time in a handful of minutes, and shut his book. Maes was sprawled in an almost anatomically impossible position, his back obviously bothering him from the angles he was attempting. He spent too much time huddled behind a desk doing enough paperwork to drive most men insane. Thankfully, he was a very particular brand of insane already.

"Give me a few minutes, then I am going to make some coffee." Maes muttered, eyes closed. Maybe if he flopped over onto his stomach…

Now he looked like some sort of pathetically beached fish…it was more than Roy could handle. A smirk on his face, he stood as silently as possible and made his way to the back of the couch.

Roy Mustang was one who could be considered to be very aware of personal boundaries. He didn't like being touched and rarely touched anyone else. So it came as a surprise to both of them when he reached down and attempted to massage Maes' back. Maes jerked in surprise, eyes snapping open, almost rolling to the floor as instincts took over and demanded he respond to a unaccounted for physical presence.

That was, until he noticed Roy was not in his coveted chair but standing beside the couch, a rather odd look on his face. It appeared they were both puzzled by what had just happened. Maes, as usual, was the first to break the silence. "I guess the desk jobs are just as unhealthy as the grunt work."

"Appears so, if the state of your back is any indication." Roy responded in kind, speaking with a sort of conversational dinner table tone of voice.

"Yeah. The lower back pain has been brutal. All that leaning over to read hellish handwriting. You would think the higher ups would know how to write."

"One would definitely hope so."

neither of them decided to mention that fact that somewhere in that conversation Maes had settled back onto the couch and Roy's hands had drifted back down and slowly started to work on tense muscles.

"bless me with a kiss
across the universe
when day and night converge
and whisper my name till I fall asleep
tell me tales from days bygone"

"Y'r late." Maes' voice was fuzzy with sleep, and from the smell of his breath, a studious dose of alcohol.

"I thought I was the drinker." Roy sighed, shutting the door behind him, kicking his boots off as he locked the apartment. Maes continued to peer owlishly at him from his place on the couch, his glasses having wandered off somewhere he had a rather puzzled look on his face as he tried to make out the details of his friend. "Maes, where are your glasses?"

"Fell down somewhere I s'pose." Maes waved away his friends concern with an unsteady hand. "Y'r late." He repeated, his voice gaining a hint of what was most likely accusatory concern.

"It happens." Roy poured himself a glass of coffee left over from that morning, wincing at the coldly bitter taste. "Anyway, I assumed you would go home. You do have your own apartment."

"Worried." Maes' voice quivered with a tone Roy was unfamiliar with, but for some reason it made his throat tighten in response. He took in Maes' hunched position, the empty bottles, and frowned.

"Maes. I was only gone a week. Routine detail." He attempted to soothe over what was obviously a very upset brand of drunk.

"S'posed to be three days." Maes sniffed suddenly, eyes narrowing. "Smell smoke."

Roy cringed. He had been hoping to get a shower before coming in contact with Maes shrewd grasp of any situation. Even drunk the man's ability to sort through data was terrifying. "Well, there were some things they needed alchemists to handle…"

Maes stood, only slightly wobbly, as he walked a determined path straight toward Roy, poor eyesight and inebriation be damned, resulting in a very stunned Roy being hauled into a rib cracking bear hug

The smell of alcohol and the quieter musk of Maes' favorite cologne engulfed Roy's senses, the smells he had come to associate with home, and after a moment he relaxed into those arms. Roy felt Maes press a cheek against the top of his head and sigh, and tentatively reached his arms around the other man.

It seemed the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry." Roy whispered a handful of shaky heartbeats later.

"S'ok." Maes replied. "I drank all y'r brandy."

"tell me little lies
tell me once again it's just you and I…"

And if they clung to each other perhaps a little longer than necessary at times…if they huddled under shared blankets at night wrapped in the comfort of each others warmth…neither of them said a word.