Fic - Cold Blood
Jun. 28th, 2011 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessTitle -- Cold Blood
Author--![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cornerofmadness
Disclaimer -- Arakawa owns all
Rating -- pg-13 bordering on R
Characters/Pairing -- Roy, Kimbley, one sided attraction
Timeline/Spoilers -- set soon after the Ishvalan war and within it. No spoilers
Word Count -- 1,302
Warning -- Kimbley is in this, consider that your warning
Summary -- Roy's sleep is haunted
Author’s Note -- written for a help japan vgift forseatbeltdrivein in the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fmagiftexchange for the prompt, 'Roy, Kimbley, flashbacks. Thanks to evil_little_dog for the beta
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
XXX
Sitting on his bed, Roy shook. For too many nights, he had been unable to get any rest. It was mid-summer and just too hot; too much like being back in that damnable desert. He had a fan on his nightstand that tried to beat the air into a cooler submission and its noise did nothing to induce sleep.
Roy could have lived with the fan. It was the dreams that ate at him, when he actually managed to fall asleep. Mostly, he sank to the point of nearly being asleep then, with sharp suddenness, he got yanked back to consciousness until his body trembled from exhaustion.
Tonight, however, he had slept some, only to dream, to end up back in the desert with monsters like himself. His boxers clinging to his perspiring body, Roy forced himself up and out of equally sweaty sheets. He wanted a drink but refused to give in. He’d done that too often in recent months. He’d seen enough drunks in his young life to not want to become one.
Instead, he stumbled into the bathroom, peeled off his one piece of clothing and got into a cool shower. Not even the cleansing water could wash away the guilt and shame. If only he had come across Maes or Riza earlier in the war, he wouldn’t have a couple of the regrets he bore now.
XXX
His ribs hurt. The bullet that had grazed him days earlier had required only a few stitches to seal up the wound and a couple days rest. Under the sweltering uniform and dressings, his stitches pulled and itched as he marched with several other alchemists to the Diribge Border with the command to take it at any cost.
Gran and Silver were leading the charge. Roy hung back with Strongarm. At least Alex Louis was an alchemist who didn’t seem to get off on the destruction they were handing out. Every time they engaged in battle, Roy could see the huge man lose another layer of humanity. Roy wondered if the others could see the same in him.
“Flame, you deal with the east side. Take Armstrong and Kimbley. Leave nothing standing,” Gran said.
“Not a problem,” Kimbley replied too cheerily for Roy’s taste.
And following orders wasn’t a problem. The hardest part was trying to hide the routine he and Armstrong had worked out using their alchemy to make escape paths for the women and children. Kimbley would never be so kind. He enjoyed his work too much. Roy feared what the alchemist would do if he caught them.
Roy tried to ignore the shrieks of fear, the roar of flame, the tympanic shattering explosions and the rumble of rock. It was a devil's symphony that played on a loop in his nightmares.
Sweat poured off his body as copious as spring run off in the north. Hide-searing sunlight blended with the heat of his flames, drying him out, exhausting him until he was nearly punch-drunk. At the end of the day, Roy was happy to drag home and hope for a pathetic shower as if ten minutes water ration could do much against the grime clinging to him. The shower was heaven compared to the mess tent's rations. Smuggled in whiskey was his only solace, sipping it in coffee as if anyone was fooled.
The camp was quiet. Most people obeyed the lights out rule. Roy felt no obligation to play by that rule. There was nothing they would do to an alchemist for minor infractions. Hearing boots crunching over the hard ground, Roy looked up, grimacing. He was too drunk to deal with Kimbley.
“What do you want?”
“Like you, I'm finding sleep elusive. I thought I'd take a walk around the camp to see what I can find. I found you.” A smile slashed across Kimbley's face.
Roy turned his head. “Lucky me.”
“Don't be that way.” Kimbley sat next to him and pulled a flask out of his pocket. “Have a little.”
Roy eyed him. “What is it?”
“Brandy. Better than most of the stuff we find around here.”
Roy knew he shouldn't trust anything the Mad Bomber offered, but he sipped it anyhow. It was fine so he took a deeper drink before passing it back. “I didn't want to talk to anyone really,” he said.
“And here I had ideas of things we could do to wile away the long night.”
Roy rubbed his forehead as the alcohol started fussing up his thought patterns. Why did Kimbley always sounded so gentlemanly, so opposite of how Roy saw the man? The desert winds howled before Roy could come up with a cogent answer, pelting them with grit.
Kimbley scowled. “Let's take this inside. I'm not sure why the Fuehrer wants this dust bowl in the first place.” Getting up, he opened the tent flap to Roy's tent.
Roy didn't argue. He couldn't even say why. He knew he should, but his mind was numb. Between brandy, whiskey, and traumatic fatigue, there was a soft field of cotton padding up the works.
Once the tent flaps settled back into place, creating a canvas womb, Kimbley handed him the flask back, Roy took a sip then another.
“You want something other than conversation, Kimbley.”
“That could be.” Kimbley tossed himself onto the footlocker, lounging indolently. “I know a few things perhaps you'd rather I didn't.”
Roy's breath snagged. Damn, Kimbley did know about the women and children or at least suspected. “I have no idea what you think you know.”
Kimbley circled a finger, taking in Roy's face. “Your face isn't made for hiding things.”
Scowling, Roy turned away. His aunt always chided him about that. Damn her for being right. “You should go.” Roy took another sip of Kimbley's brandy.
“I have other ideas.” He stood, loosening his ponytail. The fall of dark hair softened the Crimson Lotus's features. He closed the distance between them. “Something to take our minds off the day's happenings.”
“What we do bothers you?” Roy asked incredulously.
Kimbley picked a piece of lint off Roy's collar, his fingers straying across Roy's neck. “It bothers me when I see alchemists subverting their commands to aid the enemy.”
“I don't know-”
Kimbley put a finger over Roy's lips. “Don't insult me a second time. You know exactly what I mean.”
Roy shuddered. Of course, he did but he refused to give voice to it. He settled for giving Kimbley a hot stare. Kimbley grinned, knowing he won.
Kimbley pulled Roy closer, his mouth pressed against Roy's neck. A kiss would be too intimate a gesture for Kimbley. Kimbley's hand did find a spot much more intimate, squeezing Roy almost gently.
Roy tried to squirm away. “No, leave me alone.”
Kimbley caressed him harder. “It's not as if you're new to this.”
Roy swallowed hard. Just how much did Kimbley truly know? “I won't give you what you want.”
Smiling, Kimbley brushed a hand over Roy's forehead, pushing his bangs back. “Are you so sure?”
XXX
Shaking off the disgraceful, distasteful memory, Roy got out of the now-cold shower. Shivering, he dried off and returned to his room, determined to forget about Kimbley. The man was long gone.
Roy didn't know what to do. Maes would be asleep with his newlywed wife. Roy didn't dare make too many late night calls to Riza. Operators listened in and were known to gossip. He still refused to take whiskey. That left one thing: alchemy books. He had picked up several from a rare bookseller his mother knew.
He found the most intriguing of the lot and started there. It wasn't the way he wanted to spend the night but that's what he had at the moment, Roy settled in with the book to await the dawn.
Author--
cornerofmadnessDisclaimer -- Arakawa owns all
Rating -- pg-13 bordering on R
Characters/Pairing -- Roy, Kimbley, one sided attraction
Timeline/Spoilers -- set soon after the Ishvalan war and within it. No spoilers
Word Count -- 1,302
Warning -- Kimbley is in this, consider that your warning
Summary -- Roy's sleep is haunted
Author’s Note -- written for a help japan vgift for
seatbeltdrivein in the fmagiftexchange for the prompt, 'Roy, Kimbley, flashbacks. Thanks to evil_little_dog for the betaThe Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
XXX
Sitting on his bed, Roy shook. For too many nights, he had been unable to get any rest. It was mid-summer and just too hot; too much like being back in that damnable desert. He had a fan on his nightstand that tried to beat the air into a cooler submission and its noise did nothing to induce sleep.
Roy could have lived with the fan. It was the dreams that ate at him, when he actually managed to fall asleep. Mostly, he sank to the point of nearly being asleep then, with sharp suddenness, he got yanked back to consciousness until his body trembled from exhaustion.
Tonight, however, he had slept some, only to dream, to end up back in the desert with monsters like himself. His boxers clinging to his perspiring body, Roy forced himself up and out of equally sweaty sheets. He wanted a drink but refused to give in. He’d done that too often in recent months. He’d seen enough drunks in his young life to not want to become one.
Instead, he stumbled into the bathroom, peeled off his one piece of clothing and got into a cool shower. Not even the cleansing water could wash away the guilt and shame. If only he had come across Maes or Riza earlier in the war, he wouldn’t have a couple of the regrets he bore now.
XXX
His ribs hurt. The bullet that had grazed him days earlier had required only a few stitches to seal up the wound and a couple days rest. Under the sweltering uniform and dressings, his stitches pulled and itched as he marched with several other alchemists to the Diribge Border with the command to take it at any cost.
Gran and Silver were leading the charge. Roy hung back with Strongarm. At least Alex Louis was an alchemist who didn’t seem to get off on the destruction they were handing out. Every time they engaged in battle, Roy could see the huge man lose another layer of humanity. Roy wondered if the others could see the same in him.
“Flame, you deal with the east side. Take Armstrong and Kimbley. Leave nothing standing,” Gran said.
“Not a problem,” Kimbley replied too cheerily for Roy’s taste.
And following orders wasn’t a problem. The hardest part was trying to hide the routine he and Armstrong had worked out using their alchemy to make escape paths for the women and children. Kimbley would never be so kind. He enjoyed his work too much. Roy feared what the alchemist would do if he caught them.
Roy tried to ignore the shrieks of fear, the roar of flame, the tympanic shattering explosions and the rumble of rock. It was a devil's symphony that played on a loop in his nightmares.
Sweat poured off his body as copious as spring run off in the north. Hide-searing sunlight blended with the heat of his flames, drying him out, exhausting him until he was nearly punch-drunk. At the end of the day, Roy was happy to drag home and hope for a pathetic shower as if ten minutes water ration could do much against the grime clinging to him. The shower was heaven compared to the mess tent's rations. Smuggled in whiskey was his only solace, sipping it in coffee as if anyone was fooled.
The camp was quiet. Most people obeyed the lights out rule. Roy felt no obligation to play by that rule. There was nothing they would do to an alchemist for minor infractions. Hearing boots crunching over the hard ground, Roy looked up, grimacing. He was too drunk to deal with Kimbley.
“What do you want?”
“Like you, I'm finding sleep elusive. I thought I'd take a walk around the camp to see what I can find. I found you.” A smile slashed across Kimbley's face.
Roy turned his head. “Lucky me.”
“Don't be that way.” Kimbley sat next to him and pulled a flask out of his pocket. “Have a little.”
Roy eyed him. “What is it?”
“Brandy. Better than most of the stuff we find around here.”
Roy knew he shouldn't trust anything the Mad Bomber offered, but he sipped it anyhow. It was fine so he took a deeper drink before passing it back. “I didn't want to talk to anyone really,” he said.
“And here I had ideas of things we could do to wile away the long night.”
Roy rubbed his forehead as the alcohol started fussing up his thought patterns. Why did Kimbley always sounded so gentlemanly, so opposite of how Roy saw the man? The desert winds howled before Roy could come up with a cogent answer, pelting them with grit.
Kimbley scowled. “Let's take this inside. I'm not sure why the Fuehrer wants this dust bowl in the first place.” Getting up, he opened the tent flap to Roy's tent.
Roy didn't argue. He couldn't even say why. He knew he should, but his mind was numb. Between brandy, whiskey, and traumatic fatigue, there was a soft field of cotton padding up the works.
Once the tent flaps settled back into place, creating a canvas womb, Kimbley handed him the flask back, Roy took a sip then another.
“You want something other than conversation, Kimbley.”
“That could be.” Kimbley tossed himself onto the footlocker, lounging indolently. “I know a few things perhaps you'd rather I didn't.”
Roy's breath snagged. Damn, Kimbley did know about the women and children or at least suspected. “I have no idea what you think you know.”
Kimbley circled a finger, taking in Roy's face. “Your face isn't made for hiding things.”
Scowling, Roy turned away. His aunt always chided him about that. Damn her for being right. “You should go.” Roy took another sip of Kimbley's brandy.
“I have other ideas.” He stood, loosening his ponytail. The fall of dark hair softened the Crimson Lotus's features. He closed the distance between them. “Something to take our minds off the day's happenings.”
“What we do bothers you?” Roy asked incredulously.
Kimbley picked a piece of lint off Roy's collar, his fingers straying across Roy's neck. “It bothers me when I see alchemists subverting their commands to aid the enemy.”
“I don't know-”
Kimbley put a finger over Roy's lips. “Don't insult me a second time. You know exactly what I mean.”
Roy shuddered. Of course, he did but he refused to give voice to it. He settled for giving Kimbley a hot stare. Kimbley grinned, knowing he won.
Kimbley pulled Roy closer, his mouth pressed against Roy's neck. A kiss would be too intimate a gesture for Kimbley. Kimbley's hand did find a spot much more intimate, squeezing Roy almost gently.
Roy tried to squirm away. “No, leave me alone.”
Kimbley caressed him harder. “It's not as if you're new to this.”
Roy swallowed hard. Just how much did Kimbley truly know? “I won't give you what you want.”
Smiling, Kimbley brushed a hand over Roy's forehead, pushing his bangs back. “Are you so sure?”
XXX
Shaking off the disgraceful, distasteful memory, Roy got out of the now-cold shower. Shivering, he dried off and returned to his room, determined to forget about Kimbley. The man was long gone.
Roy didn't know what to do. Maes would be asleep with his newlywed wife. Roy didn't dare make too many late night calls to Riza. Operators listened in and were known to gossip. He still refused to take whiskey. That left one thing: alchemy books. He had picked up several from a rare bookseller his mother knew.
He found the most intriguing of the lot and started there. It wasn't the way he wanted to spend the night but that's what he had at the moment, Roy settled in with the book to await the dawn.
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no subject
Date: 2011-06-29 08:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-29 01:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-06 07:24 pm (UTC)I really like where you took the prompt. This really does feel like a flashback, complete with that feeling of nausea and overall wrongness in the pit of your stomach. You always manage to nail wartime fics, and this is no exception. Thanks for writing this! <3
no subject
Date: 2011-07-06 08:41 pm (UTC)I'm very glad you liked it though. I enjoyed working with the prompt. There will be a much darker, sex-ridden one coming in August for