jarnsaxa

Summary: “It was the bet of the year, though technically, it couldn´t even be called a bet anymore.
It was more like a battle, one of the hardest battles he’d ever fought. Roy Mustang against three people. Roy Mustang against piles of paperwork. And Roy Mustang against sex.”

Warnings: unbeta’ed A/Ns, dirty tricks and the rest is same as the other chapters XD

Thank you once again, Ca11iope :D By the amount of work you do I should maybe call you beta, gamma, delta... all way down to omega :D

A/N:

I was really did not want to split this chapter.

1) it would take longer for Ed to finally appear and you guys were nice reviewer, so I´m a nice writer (not really ;-P I´m a big fan of cliffhangers, both reading and writing them XD)

2) the next chapter may take a bit more time *cough*

but livejournal complains that the post ist too long (obviously they don´t know a fic chapter is never too long!) and I´ve got no clue how to do one of this two page entries.
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I had fun writing it XD

Notice:

“Speaking”

‘Thinking’

“Letters, reports etc...and…”

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The Bet of the Year

Chapter 2: More Drastic Means

Day 3

He woke up to early. Which was both good and bad.

Bad, because he woke up with the view of a sizable tent in his bedcovers.

And good, because he would at least have time enough for a cold shower.

Even if needing a cold shower was something his dignity had difficulty accepting. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t showered cold from time to time, but usually he was not forced to do so to get rid of a boner. And that´s exactly, why he considered this a bad thing. Hard dicks and cold water just didn´t match at all. One of them had to back down at some point and Roy needed to make sure the water got enough reinforcements to make his proud general lose, even if he regretted it deeply.

Since the battlefield was his nerves, Roy left the shower even crankier than the day before, and his mood didn´t improve on the way to the office. In fact, once he reached Headquarters, it even sank lower.

The moment the secretary at the front desk avoided his gaze, Roy knew that his presumption had been right, and that Julia’s nasty act of revenge had reached the headquarter building. Whenever he looked, female officers – and even a few males - either avoided his eyes or desperately tried not to laugh, betrayed either by the twitching corners of their mouths or intense biting of their lower lip. He earned a few pitying looks, and of course some couldn´t keep their voices low enough behind his back, so he could hear the giggles and the whispered commentary. By the time he reached his office, he was sure that if he had to endure overhearing one more “so, do you think it´s true?” he was going to kill whoever asked.

When he entered his office this time, his entire crew kept their heads low so he could not see their expressions. Just great. If he had to guess who might have blabbed about the bet, Havoc would be his first choice. Riza usually knew how to keep her mouth shut.

Finally reaching a state of high piss off, the Colonel gritted out a regulation ‘good morning’ to each of them, making sure to including every single rank, simply to force them to salute him and look him in the eye. As expected, Hawkeye managed without giving the slightest hint that something was different from any other day. Falman accomplished the same feat, although his return of the greeting was strictly by protocol. Figured, the man could escape any verbal situation if he had the aid of bureaucracy. Fury looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, and since he always supported his commander without question, the Colonel let him off the hook without further ado. Breda however turned a even deeper red than his hair as soon as his eyes met Roy’s.

“Good morning, Sir. “ It almost worked, until Breda added, “May I express my concern, Sir? You look like you had a rough night.” Although it was phrased formally enough, the hint was more than clear. Clear enough to have Havoc finally lose it, and barely suppressed laughter filled the office.

As it died down, the office became deathly silent. Taking a look at the narrowed eyes of his superior officer, the last traces of amusement vanished from Havocs lips and the man paled.

“Uhm. . . good morning. . . Sir?” It was a poor attempt to worm his way out of what would follow next, but finally having someone to wreak his bad mood on, Roy was by no means letting the man escape. Especially not since it was Havoc.

“Why, Lieutenant. You seem to be having a very good morning indeed. Care to fill me in on what´s so amusing?”

Havoc winced at the particularly sadistic note in the Flame Alchemist´s voice. “I´d prefer not to, Sir.” Even though both of them knew exactly why Havoc had laughed, it certainly wouldn’t help his current position to admit that he found his superior’s misery amusing. He was lucky the man didn´t order him to say it out loud.

Instead he was asked, if he `preferred` to do a few special jobs instead.

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“Heymans, how could you fret out a comrade like this?” Fury sounded downright scandalized.

But the redhead just grinned. “Havoc had it coming, really. And I´m glad it´s not me.” That earned him an incredulous glance from the rest of the office. Breda slumped down a bit in his chair. “You know, now the Colonel´s going to give Havoc all the shitty jobs no one wants to do, so the rest of us won´t be forced to do them for at least a month.”

No one could argue with that.

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After taking his frustration out on one of his favourite preys of the moment, Roy felt much better. He had spent a good amount of time pulling out the absolute worst jobs he could find. And it had been enormously satisfying to see one of his three betting opponents suffer as well.

Unfortunately no one – except Hawkeye - dared to enter his office after that. As a consequence, Roy found himself in dire need of something to do to occupy his wandering mind. When his thoughts slipped into the gutter for what seemed to be the twentieth time in one hour, the Colonel admitted that he did in fact need to take more drastic measures.

Alcohol was out of the question of course, since Riza wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if he even dared to touch it while on duty. Sighing deeply, Roy went for a distraction that would very much clear his mind from any sex-related thoughts without getting him into trouble.

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Three hours later Riza forced her hand to close the door as she left the Colonel’s office, and with numb legs went to her desk to sit down. She had only been in her commander’s inner sanctum for a few moments, to check on him, and she’d been fine when she’d gone in, but now . . .

“First Lieutenant?” Fury’s voice sounded hesitant.

The Lieutenant stared at the work on her desk, unmoving.

“Did she go into shock? What happened?” Falman went over to the woman and tried to get a reaction out of her.

“Maybe she caught the Colonel doing some. . . you know.” Breda grinned and moved his hand suggestively in front of his trousers. “He looked like he needed it badly.” And that would mean one thing: Mustang would have lost his bet. Heymans was about to get the betting book, but the only female in the room interrupted the motion.

“He´s doing his paperwork.”

Three jaws dropped to the floor.

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The very first thing Roy did on his way home was to buy pajamas.

The – thankfully male – shop clerk had let himself be caught in a chat about the different styles of bed clothes and whatnot. Roy purposely chose one of the more expensive shops, so vulgar language or even the acknowledgment that the existence of something like genitals – the reproductive system, thank you very much - was totally out of question. Boring as hell, but it helped to pass the time. And some of the phrases the man had chosen to avoid naming certain body parts were downright ridiculous. After all, they were both human and male.

Nonetheless, the time during which one could call the evening young had long passed when Roy returned home exhausted. After spending the whole day confined to the office, he decided to walk home to get rid of the headache he’d developed after he saw the bill for his new sleepwear. It wasn´t as if he would need the pajamas for long, so it did seem a bit expensive, but the Colonel always preferred to pay a bit more in exchange for good quality. And even if he wouldn´t be using the pajamas longer than four week, his principles were clear.

Nonetheless, he refused to wear them before washing, so instead of sleeping naked, Roy decided to keep his underwear on. After the lack of sleep the night before, and doing boring paperwork all day, he expected to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He didn´t.

Even without remembering any specific events, the moment Roy closed his eyes and his mind was no longer occupied, he became acutely aware of what he’d pushed out of his mind all day. The familiar heat in his groin had yet to develop into an actual physical reaction, but the mere thought of sex could – shit, too late.

Signing deeply, Roy once again tried to visualize the most disgusting things he could come up with. It did help. The relief however was short lived since he needed to sleep. Which basically meant he had to stop thinking at some point. And the moment he did that it was back. The thought of sex, amplifying the slight arousal and the growing need to do something to ease this deprivation.

It took him six hours, lots of tossing around, the calculation of the square root of eighty-nine thousand, eight hundred and fifty-six to the seventh position after the decimal point, and the memory of a cat run over by a truck, to finally get rid of the sexual desire and sleep.

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continue reading here:
Day 4