Ishabl Dreams ch30

[okami_hu]

Disclaimer: World & characters are the property of Arakawa Hiromu & Square-ENIX. However, the fic itself belongs to us (kira_k & okami_hu). We have to stress that – sadly – we’re not making any money from this.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Roy/Farman
Note: Aaawww. ^_^

Tale as old as time

Roy stares after the leaving men and, figuring the party is over but the night isn't, takes a long drought of the cactus brandy, and sighs. He misses Maes.

The Colonel looks at him, after getting Breda onto the bed, with much effort. "What bothers you, general?"

"Sorry..." Roy answers, snapping out. He forgot Farman's presence, and got too relaxed. He tries a smile and offers the bottle. "Are you sure, you don't want to help me finish this?"

The older man smiles and drops down on the other bed, patting it next to him. "Alright, I can have a sip or two. Sit with me, general."

Roy stands gracefully and sits down next to the colonel. "Thank you." He leans back a little to have a better view at Farman's face, after giving the bottle to the other man. The colonel is his trusted friend since years, but Roy isn't sure, if he can speak at all about his troubles. "What the Hell are we still doing here?" He asks. It'd be better to be far away from temptation.

Farman takes a sip and he's still not getting the cactus. "We're waiting for the negotiations to end. And I'm sure the others would like to go with you more likely that to follow Gran." He smiles a little. "Do you hate this place this much...?"

"No. I don't hate it,” Roy answers with a small sigh. "And I'm glad they wouldn't leave me for general Gran." He knows the strong alcohol started to get him, because he wouldn't be this careless in a normal situation. He drinks again, and smiles at Farman. "I hate, that I like this palace."

Farman studies his general's face. The usual smugness is gone now, which is quite unusual. Roy seems to have more problems. "Well, I think, I can understand that. After all, you're from Central. But tell me, how did you get to like this city, this palace? Because they treated you good?" His inquiring is gentle.

"Why is it significant that I'm from Central?" Roy looks up with a small frown. But after another gulp of brandy he shakes his head. "I don't think it's about how was I treated. More likely about who..." His expression and voice change, in self-sarcasm. "You could destroy me with just this much, colonel." He's a fool, who can't handle his drink.

Farman places a hand on the general's shoulders and smiles softly. "That’s good. So I can get away with a little familiarity, my general won't remember. When he's sober, he would never tell me what bothers him and won't accept my help, if I can help him, because he's very proud. But thank God, he's drunk now so I can ask him: have you fallen in love with somebody here?"

"Am I that transparent?" Roy laughs without any mirth. He sweeps his hair out of his eyes, and smiles softly. "It's so wrong; I shouldn't have any feelings for an Ishbalite man, who makes me forget myself and my oaths..." The general shakes his head a little. "I didn't speak because of him. I was just trying to save major Havoc's life. I'd never be able to look into a mirror if I've betrayed my country because of myself."

Farman blinks. This was a little too much information to digest at once. "Wait a second, let me explain it to myself. So you tried to save Havoc's life and that's why you told them, what they wanted to hear. That's very noble and right, you did it well. And you're head over heels into an Ishbalite MAN? Really? I've never thought, that you're... up to that. You surprised me!" But his voice bears no accusing edge; and his smile is purely amused, not mocking.

"I'm just messing this more and more, ain't I?" Roy sighs, defeated. Man, he's drunk. Still, Mustang tries to lessen the damage of his careless words. "I've never advertised, but yes, I'm... swinging both ways. Women or men... I don't really care." The general reaches for the bottle and sips a little, before offering it to Farman. "Here, drink, before there isn't any left."

Farman takes the bottle and this time, the liquor seems to have some taste. "Roy... I've never said that it's wrong. Although it isn't nice, that you have to part him soon, whoever he is." The colonel hesitates a little and ventures to ask. "May I ask who it is? One of your guards? Or a doctor?"

"I'm sorry." Roy looks away. "It would endanger him too much. I know, you wouldn't betray my trust, but I don't want to betray him."

Thoughts race in the grey-haired colonel's mind. Who could that mysterious lover be? He'd be endangered if it turned out that he got involved with a Central soldier. Well, that’s probably applies to every Ishbalite. But still... Farman is curious. Of course, he won't push his beloved general but maybe if he can manipulate him carefully... Maybe that way, he can even help more because he really wants to help. Roy's eyes are filled with sadness and longing, and it's heartbreaking to see. So he settles for a neutral continuation. "You seem to love him very much... That's beautiful."

"Thank you, I think..." Roy answers with a small shrug. He drinks from the bottle, and now it's almost empty. "You know, he's so handsome. And he's fascinated with my eyes - probably because they are different from his own race." Roy knows he's like a love-sick teenage boy, weeping to his friend, but doesn't really care. Probably the combined force of the alcohol and Farman's willingness to hear him whine.

"I can't blame him,” The colonel laughs a little. "Please, continue. What is he like?"

"Beautiful. Tall. Regal. His voice... I've compared his voice once to the melting snow, and I haven't yet found a better metaphor." Roy is smiling sadly, because he won't be here to watch Maes's expression when the array flares up and it starts to snow. "I miss him, even though I've run into him in my way to the kitchens, and we had almost five minutes alone..."

Farman nods. He can imagine that; he's forty years old, he loved like this once or twice. "And what about him? Does he love you with the same passion?"

"Yes, he does." There is no doubt in Roy's voice. Maes loves him. "And the tale ended when Gran came to exchange me back. So ironic, considering I was happy here, save the time when Scar broke my jaw." He sighs. "I've adjusted myself. To the imprisonment, to him. Let him have the control that he thinks is his naturally, didn't poke him for useful information... Oh, God, I'm such a fool." Roy drinks the last drops of the brandy and pulls up his knees. He feels miserable. "You know, he'll forget me."

Farman embraces Roy's shoulders with a soft sigh. "I don't think he will. Such deep love is always rewarded - it's equivalent trade too. He surely saw, how you changed and he'll respect it." He strokes the other soldier's jet black hair. "One could think, he's some noble or prince, you speak about him with so much respect and devotion."

Roy stiffens and looks away, not answering. Trust the colonel to look through him, even when he tries to conceal his lover's identity.

Farman feels the relaxed body in his arms tensing up and he blinks at his superior. "Roy...? Did I say something wrong?"

Roy forces himself to relax his muscles, and shakes his head. "No... I just thought..." He stops himself, shutting his eyes. "I'm a fool, sorry."

"Roy... tell me, what's bothering you - I mean, aside the obvious. I love you like you'd be my son; I'd like to help. Please, let me do that, if I can. You can trust me; I'd rater die than to betray your trust."

"You can't help..." Roy leans against Farman's side, seeking the body heat. He knows it's his own fault to be drunk, but he really wants to share his burden with his friend. "He's a prince. The prince,” Roy whispers, looking away to somewhere, anywhere, save Farman. "And I'm a fool."

Bull’s eye! Farman is almost startled; it was a blind guess, an innocent comment but it hit full force. He embraces Roy tightly and caresses his back soothingly. "We're all fools, when we fell in love. The prince is just a man like anybody else... he's in a high rank, but he loves you and you're sure of his love." The grey-haired Colonel stares in front of him and his voice is very gentle and a bit distant as he speaks up. "Roy... I'll tell you a story now. It was a secret for many years but I'm sure I can trust you with it. You'll find it interesting."

Roy nods, leaning into the embrace. He needs his friend, and if Farman wanted to share some old story with him, he would be listening. "I won't tell,” He promises with a half-smile.

The colonel nods. "Do you remember, what happened in Drachma some twenty-five years ago? It was about King Vladimir."

Roy searches in his memories for a while, but he manages to dig out the data. "There was an assassination. Prince Dimitri died, and his death was the reason for the war between our countries."

Farman nods. "True. Now, you surely know that my father, Eugene Farman is a general. He was a general twenty-five years ago, too. The books don't mention that before that assassination, Prince Dimitri visited Central City and he was housed by the Farman family."

Roy stares at Farman. "You mean... You and the prince...?" He can't really remember Prince Dimitri's age, but his friend was around fifteen, the perfect age to fall in love.

"Wait it up, my friend." Farman laughs a little and pats Roy's shoulder. "Dimitri was two years my senior, a beautiful example of a Drachman. Black hair, which reached his broad shoulders; deep brown eyes like tiger-eye gems... He was tall and lean like a young birch or pine his country is so famous for. He was very well-mannered too, a perfect gentleman. I took fencing lessons that time and once, he accompanied me for a spar. He was so graceful, like a cat, he moved with elegance and speed. He defeated me with ease but when he helped me up, he smiled and praised my talent." Farman closes his eyes. "In that moment, I fell in love with him. His hand burned mine; I nearly fell back on the floor. I was frightened by my own emotions and I ran to my room and from that day, I avoided him. He stayed one more week and I was in the deepest misery - I wanted to be near him, but I didn't dare. When he left, I shook his hand... and that was all. Two weeks later... he threw himself before the assassin's bullet to save his father's life. I never got the chance to talk him about my feelings."

Roy uncurls himself and embraces his friend. "I'm sorry." He's really that, and he sighs softly, tightening his arms. "I think, and then I don't really have any reason to whine. I had a month with Maes. You had a smile and a handshake." He shakes his head a little and puts his head on Farman's shoulder. "I didn't know you could fence."

Farman has to laugh, although a teardrop runs down on his face. "I still use to practice sometimes... Keeps me in form. And I'm not even finished... One week later that Dimitri died, I received a letter. He wrote it to me but he never had the chance to send it. The letter was found by some sympathetic secretary and it found its way to me... Dimitri wrote that he was disappointed, that we couldn't talk more because he thought I'm a nice young gentleman. I could even had a chance by him and that hurt the most. You're very lucky to love and to be loved; you're sure of the prince's feelings and you can still write him a letter from Central. I couldn't."

"I'm sorry, really." Roy pulls Farman closer. "I know I've every reason to feel myself lucky." He does know this, and he knows it's pathetic to feel sorry for himself. He smiles sadly, and chooses to change the subject. "Could you teach me to fence?"

"Yes, why not?" Farman ruffles the general's hair, like he would be a child. "It'll do good for you, you rely too much on your arrays; even if they're truly effective. And tell me, do you feel a little better?"

"Yes, thank you. You're a great friend, Watteau." Roy smiles and leans closer a little, because he was always better 'saying thanks' in the other way. His lips gently touch Farman's for a long moment.

The colonel doesn't pull back; quite on the contrary. He slips a hand around Roy's waist and his lips part slightly, invitingly.

The general stares into his friend's eyes surprised, but he thrusts his tongue forward. To taste and to play with the older man's tongue unhurried and without the burning passion. When he needs air he pulls back and puts his head on Farman's shoulder. "Thank you."

The colonel embraces him tightly and smiles gently. "You're welcome. And I guess I have some insight, why does the prince love you so much."

"I don't understand,” Roy frowns. The alcohol worked too well, and even though he knows he was complimented, he doesn't know why.

Farman laughs again. "You're a good kisser. And either a miserable drinker or the liquor was too strong. You need some sleep."

"I'm miserable without drinking too,” Roy answers with a half-smirk. "And I don't want to sleep, not yet." He tightens his arms a little, because it feels nice to be here, in Farman's presence. "You know, if I went to my room now, I'd probably end up on the floor, doing push-ups as a distraction..." He shakes his head a little. "I'm lucky, you're my friend."

Farman feels warm. "And I'm glad you feel like this. You're the best superior and old guy like me could get. Waitasec, you're doing exercise...? Trying to grow some muscles to attract your prince more...?" And he snickers like a schoolboy, who's teasing his lovesick friend.

Roy sticks out his tongue in a mock-offended way. "I'm impressive enough without being big like you."

Farman absolutely can't miss the riposte. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Roy laughs at this, and hugs Farman closer. He can't think out any witty answers, so he goes back to the original question. "Yes, I was doing exercise. Does it really seem like something impossible?"

"It's not impossible, just unusual. You always tended to lead a lazy, pleasant life, because you only had to snap and everything was done. But I think it's a nice thing. Were you that bored? I could write in my cell and it kept me busy."

"I'm an alchemist. After I fried the first warlord a little, they didn't really want to give me a pen..." Roy answers with a small shrug. "And I've never enjoyed being still.”

He doesn't mind called lazy, because he's that, but snapping was never his first choice when dealing with a problem, however that subject he won't bring up. So he smiles a little. "And it's boring to be locked away."

"Oh, the poor soul..." Farman places a kiss on Roy's forehead. "No books or anything...? At least, you had some time with the prince, hadn't you?"

"I had books, in Ishbalian. And I met Maes, almost daily when he had the time; he tried to teach me his language." Roy smiles at the memories. "But if I add these two together and everything else too, I still had too much time on my hand. Especially when the prince was busy being the prince."

"I see. He has some pretty important responsibilities. He's the symbol of Ishbal's power, right?" Farman sits back comfortably. "Maes, that's a nice name. Can you say something in Ishbalian?"

Roy looks at Farman. "I'm not some dog to do tricks..." He says in Ishbalian, or at least he thinks he said this. He switches back to his mother tongue. "He is more than a symbol I think, but I never dared to ask about the Ishbal politics. I know, the first warlord Scar is his trusted friend, so the army is with him."

Farman nods seriously. "That's good for him. He must be a good politician and a good man too." He thinks for a while and decides to push his luck. "Can I ask something personal?"

"I thought we covered everything, but go ahead and ask. I don't promise to answer."

"Ah, well..." Farman blushes just a little, not to visibly but his cheeks definitely get a rosy tint. "The prince... How is he in the bed...?"

Roy opens his mouth and snaps it at once, before trying again to answer. He really didn't expect this question. "Bloody fantastic." He grins and leans again the colonel. "Sometimes he assumes too much, without asking, and likes to be in control. He has a dirty mind, dirtier than mine, and likes to play..." Roy remembers to the play with the candle and before it to the belts holding his hands, and silencing him. "Other times he's romantic, careful, but still in control." The general snickers. "Not that I really mind, and I've managed to drive him mad more than once, from bottom and top, too." He hopes he didn't make Farman uncomfortable, but the colonel did ask for this. "I miss him."

Farman has to swallow. "Sounds like a relationship with him never gets boring... Huh, you really had a nice time here! If only I could find a lover like that... I could use a wife." Then, he hugs Roy again. "I can understand that you miss him. Prince Maes is a real treasure to have. I hope you could see each other again sometime in the future. But..." his voice turns very gentle "How will you go on without him...? You can't afford to be too distracted. If I can help... with letters or anything else, just say so, I'm at your command. You deserve to be happy, Roy."

"Thank you, but I don't think it's safe for either of us to mail." Roy ignores the real question, that how will he go on without Maes. "You need a wife. What kind of woman do you prefer?"

Farman notes the distraction but he chooses to let it go for now; he could bring it up later. "Well, the silent type, I guess. Warm. Educated. Doesn't have to be that pretty, but she should be caring. I'd like her to massage my shoulders sometimes, read for me and even though I can afford a cook and servants, it'd be nice if once in a while, she would bake me something. And I guess she should be younger than me, because I'd really like a child... I have some five years left, maybe ten if I'm really lucky. I guess I should visit some villages..."

"I'll try and look around for your ideal,” Roy smiles softly. He doesn't really date this type, because it'd be too easy to get attached. "And you're not that old. I'd like to watch you play with your kids..." Roy laughs softly, because it's a nice and warm picture.

Farman sniffs a little. "Yes... I was an only child, since my siblings died at a very early age. Mother barely was there and father was so cold... Always pushing me to do my best. I want to have a warm family around me. Although, until that..." he looks at Roy and his smile is incredibly soft "You're here with me. The majors, little Fury and you. Every day, I thank God, that you're my companions."

"You're exaggerating it..." Roy says, looking away, and hopes, he isn't blushing. It'd be embarrassing, so he concentrates on something else. "My father, he retired years ago, when I made it into Lt. Colonel, or a little sooner. But he never was cold or uncaring."

"You were a lucky child... You had a pretty nice family, even a sister. Come to think of it, do you know anything about her?"

"Uh, she had a boyfriend when I've last heard. I didn't manage to be up-to-date." Roy is a little ashamed, because they are his family, and he doesn't know if she's still dating that guy, or if she's looking for someone.

"I think you should visit them first once we get home," Farman says. "I'm sure, they're worried for you."

"Yes, they probably are,” Roy nods, smiling. "Father couldn't manage to embarrass me in years, he must miss it." He's laughing as he says it, and shakes his head a little to chase away the mirth. "If the truce holds, I will."

The colonel stifles a yawn. "It's up to you too, since you're there to influence Gran... Wait, that' stupid. Maybe to shut him up... If you succeed to do that, the truce will hold."

Roy snickers. "Some respect to the poor general please. But I don't think I'm the best person to influence him. You know, he hates me."

"Is there a single person Gran loves...?"

"There is a difference between hate, dislike and not caring,” Roy answers before standing up, and stretching like a cat. "It's late, and I don't want to keep you from your sleep."

"You... don't have to go," Farman offers. "This is a comfortable bed. You can sleep here, if you want to."

Roy doesn't answer for a while. If he stays, sleeping next to Farman, it could jeopardize both of their careers. But he doesn't want to go and sleep in a cold bed. "It can be dangerous. Gran doesn't need more sides to attack me or my men, and if Breda wakes and sees us... I don't want to endanger you."

"Breda is a nice guy, who wouldn't give a damn about if we’d be doing it like bunnies. He'd just turn to his other side and sleep. And what could anybody see if they happen to come in? Two fully clothed guys sleeping on the same bed. And besides; who should disagree if we said, that we were talking all night? Or you got drunk, too, and I don't know, where your room is."

Roy smiles softly. "I got drunk, you're right." He sits back next to Farman and leans against him. "You're a great friend; did I tell you this already?" He's sleepy as well, and after a moment of hesitation, he embraces the colonel and pulls him down onto the bed.

"Boots" the grey-haired man warns him calmly, and toes off his own.

Roy sits and pulls off his pair, before smiling at Farman. "Anything else?" He knows, he's almost flirting, but dammit, it's in his nature.

Farman shrugs, grinning back. "If you insist, jacket and shirt, because it'd be wrinkled tomorrow."

"I don't care about the shirt," Roy says as he puts on the floor his coat, before lying down. "Can I have a goodnight kiss?" He murmurs, teasingly. He liked to kiss the colonel.

Farman first shrugs off his uniform jacket and his still white shirt, then nods. "As you wish..." He lies down next to Roy and he touches his lips to the younger man's. The tip of his tongue teases Roy's mouth.

Roy opens his lips waiting, needing this affirmation. His eyes are closed as the colonel kisses him.

The grey-haired man's tongue is lazy, caressing Roy's without any hurry. The kiss is slow and sweet, holds no passion, but deep love and respect.

Roy pulls back with a small sigh, looking at Farman. "Thank you, my friend. For everything." He snuggles a little closer to the warm body, and closes his eyes, to sleep.

"I could easily fall in love with you..." Farman murmurs "If I'd be a few years younger." Then, he sneaks a hand on the young general's waist and dozes off as well.

The night is pleasantly dark and warm; the only sound is Breda's soft snoring. But that doesn't disturb the peace.