~You love him, you love him for yourself
You love him and no one, no one else
You love him, you love him more than this
You love him and you cannot, you can’t resist…~
Sometimes, weeks would pass before Viking partnered Dexter with Mustang.
They worked well together; Viking seemed satisfied with the results anyway. As long as Mustang kept his head up and refused to let his gaze veer dangerously and didn’t foolishly show favoritism toward Dexter in any way, because Viking would surely get off on splitting the two up once he realized how ecstatically happy they were and how perfectly blessed they felt, they could make it work.
Of course, few people in life actually got to work with the ones they loved, so Mustang figured he was the luckiest guy in the world even if he only got an average of ten minutes with Dex a day, sometimes eight, sometimes two, sometimes none. Even without the on the job interaction, the job that would stretch from ten hours into twelve hours into sixteen into twenty-four, since Mustang was pretty much a glorified babysitter as well, the two still had painstakingly careful nights and the occasional early morning, but more often than not they were grabbing ten minutes here and five minutes there and of course it was never enough, never could be enough.
More than ever before though, Mustang felt full and satisfied. He was giddy with anticipation at the very thought of Dexter’s hands tearing savagely at his clothes; Dexter’s fingers dipping beneath his waistband; Dexter’s plush, sinful, know-it-all mouth around his dick until Mustang was begging for release and begging to fuck Dexter until he was screaming his name and then finally begging to hold the kid in his arms afterward - because he wasn’t just a cock-hungry, cold-hearted son of a bitch - and begging for all these things he’d never begged for before.
And yet it still didn’t stop him from needing more.
So he started thinking long and hard about what other couples did and settled on no less than a vacation. It’d be tricky with Viking, what with the two of them getting the same days off, tricky to not let suspicion land on them, but Mustang had his own ways of working Viking, better than all the other guys did. He knew how to act, what to say or rather what not to say, and he knew how Viking’s sick head worked too.
If he wanted to make Viking believe beyond a doubt that he and Dex weren’t together, then he could do it. He’d been doing it.
All he needed was some time to work out the perfect angle.
Dexter, mouthy little shit he was with Viking, never asked for anything he didn’t already have. That Mustang didn’t already give him.
It was one of the many things that blew Mustang away.
Among them, how mature he was when it was just the two of them hidden behind closed doors, behind cold windows, behind flimsy curtains, where there was nothing he had to prove or live up to. He was thoughtful and sexy and even… shy, judging by how often it was Mustang that initiated physical contact like holding hands or massages or simply playing with Dexter’s long, beautiful fingers, skin pale and soft and sweet.
Every piece that Mustang got of Dexter was genuine, it wasn’t forced or fake or overcompensating. It was a whole other side to him that no one else got to see, not the other guys and especially not Viking. Sure, he could be cocky and loud and annoying when he was unrestrained, when he was in the mood to be, but there was a lot more to him than just some ignorant egghead, than someone who just wanted everyone else to laugh with him, than someone who was always showing off, giving terrible advice, pulling pranks and all the other little things that turned the older man on in the worst times.
So Dexter, never one to ask for anything unless Mustang forced it out of him, didn’t care either way about a vacation.
Except… Mustang would make him care.
They’d already debated it once when Mustang had initially believed they wouldn’t have to debate it at all. It frustrated him sometimes how set Dexter was, how he never seemed to want anything more, like he was so fearful of losing any little piece of what he did have that he dare not expect even one slice more. But that wasn’t how Mustang wanted to live: always settling, always terrified of desiring more.
For fuck’s sake, he wanted to marry Dex someday.
“Dex,” he warned. “I am taking you out of the country this year. Someplace nice. Someplace wild and green for a change, get out of all this snow. Now I’m inclined to take your ideas into consideration, but we are getting the hell out of here as soon as the opportunity arises.”
His partner granted Mustang a cocky yet pleased all the same grin. “Alright alright. Just gotta get used to you spoiling me is all.”
He should have been used to it by now. “Come here.” His insides were already getting all warm and gooey and soft, heart beating sluggishly, head drifting languidly, eager to have Dex on top of him, squirming, grinding, hard against his stomach, his long and satisfying length a meal he was all too eager to devour.
He should have known Dexter was never satisfied unless he managed to tease him a little. “Isn’t the whole point of going to Ireland to get drunk though?”
Lucky for him, he was cute.
Mustang smacked the back of his head and Dexter yelped. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?” His fingers massaged the tender area for two seconds, more out of obligation than anything, and then he broke down into laughter.
Determined to hold tight to his indignation, Mustang bit back his own chuckle. “For being an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Dex confirmed, all charm and smiles and intention to turn Mustang into a pile of speechless goo right where he sat, as if he hadn’t already been there before the kid had tried his patience and insulted his vacation choice. “But you love this idiot.” That was Dex, always sounding so sure of himself, so sure of his place in the world, so sure of his life with Mustang. Just how it was and not what it could be.
Mustang must have done something right to deserve this kid.
”Fuck yes, I do. I think you’re the most lovable idiot I’ve ever met.” He should be careful though, giving Dexter too much fuel, too much leeway. If Dexter knew just how charming he was, how inclined Mustang was to give him anything he asked for, even the world, he’d have a whole lot more added to an already heaping plate.
Hell, the brat already knew, obviously.
The kiss was small and content and everything either of them needed. They were mostly over groping at each other like frantic, horny teenagers, no longer needed heated kisses and hard strokes and sweaty limbs to affirm their desire and contentment. A peck on the cheek or their hands entwined or a simple glance, all of it was enough to make Mustang know that this was where he belonged and Dexter was who he belonged to. Not that he didn’t go for the other stuff too, just that he could have it both ways.
And he knew beyond a doubt that Dexter felt the same.
Mustang fumbled in his pocket for the keys and jammed them into the ignition. “Let’s go grab a smoothie from that spot downtown before it closes for good.”
Smoothies, in Kehoe, in the middle of winter.
Of course it wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Dexter consented with a chuckle, Mustang rewarding him with a swift kiss on the cheek before he fastened his seatbelt and glared daggers at his partner until he did the same.
The things he couldn’t resist when he was with Dexter, who was the only person who could actually make him feel like a kid again: giddy and horny and so goddamn perfect every time Dexter was just there. He could already taste the vanilla frozen yogurt on Dex’s lips, Dex nibbling on his straw and taunting him until Mustang had to pray no one else would pull up in the parking lot because there was no way he’d be able to drive until he took care of some things.
Frigid wind slipped in through the crack of the window, icy air cracking his hands but never his heart, never freezing him enough to banish the grin he wore for Dexter and Dexter alone.
Hopeless romantic he was.