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Belated Valentine's Multifandom Fic Dump
Heh. Why is it that life's either ridiculously quiet, or enjoying tossing me from one end to the other? So, of course, now is the perfect time for the muses decide, hey! Time for an ambush! Note, the ironic icon.

Disclaimer: I own only these little words here - and about half a dozen rapidly multiplying plot bunnies *sweatdrop* Everything else belongs to their respective owners.

... because I couldn't do a fic dump without them:

Title: The Letter

Fandom: Voltron (LV)

Pairing: Sv/La

Rating: G

Genre: fluffy angst

Notes: dabbling into the Madhouse's Near Misses collab universe

Summary: An envelope arrives from an ex boyfriend in time for Feb 14.

---

Sven's thoughts slipped towards brooding as he turned the envelope over and over between his fingers.

It was too thick for just a card, yet the corners held that stiffness greeting cards had and letters lacked. Which meant it was probably both. He was tempted to slide a blade through the opening despite Lance's name and rank inscribed in a narrow loopy scrawl on the front.

The only thing nagging at him more than what was in the letter from Shan was the knowledge that breaking Lance's confidence like this was just the kind of thing that had spelt disaster for their relationship last time. Frustrated, he tossed the envelope onto the table with a grunt, turning to stalk several paces away with hands dug deep in his pockets.

He tried to distract himself by flinging himself onto the bed, but the stark whiteness of that damnable envelope mocked him from the dark wood table. He rolled to his feet again, wandering to the wide picture window on the other side of the room, restless eyes seeking something, anything worth his attention in the castle gardens outside.

It didn't last. Like a planet drawn towards a dying star, his gaze eventually slid back over his shoulder, unerringly finding Shan's letter again as uncertainty taunted him. What the hell does he want?

Did the Irish even celebrate Valentine's Day? Wait. Yes, of course they would; they had St Patrick's Day, didn't they?

Sven found himself standing at the table, absently fingering the corner of the letter. Could he get away with it? Casually slide a fingernail beneath the seal; Oops, it was in my pile, I didn't notice until it was too late. Sorry, Lance.

As much as he wanted to, though, he knew that Lance would see through him in an instant. No, better not. Better not.

But standing around here was just asking for trouble; there were certain temptations Sven was powerless against, and anything to do with Lance was high on that list.

He had to get out of here, at least for a while.

---

Lance found him out on the lawns some time later. Since firearms practice had done little to settle the burning anger he was trying to deny, he'd thought that perhaps some meditation exercises would help.

It hadn't. It had just made it easier to track him down.

"Hey," Lance called as he trudged up the slight hill, hands in pockets and an apprehensive look on his face.

Reminding himself that none of this was Lance's fault, Sven breathed through the last of his mantra and then made a concerted effort to give his boyfriend as welcoming a smile as he could manage. "Hey, yourself."

Maybe it had worked, or maybe Lance was just as good at ignoring the things he didn't want to discuss as Sven. It didn't matter, since he flopped gracelessly to the ground beside Sven as soon as he got within reach.

"I think he's met someone," he said completely without preamble.

The 'who', of course, was obvious. The 'how the hell had Lance known Sven would understand who' ... that was something else entirely.

"I ... you ... All right," Sven flung his hands in the air, defeated. "How on earth did you know I knew about the letter?"

Lance grinned wryly. "You forgot the roster, didn't you?"

The roste~ Oh. Oh, of course. "Damn. You were on internal watch today, weren't you?"

"Yep." Lance gave him a smug grin, then turned serious as he reached for Sven's hand and enfolded it in his own. "And thank you."

Stunned, Sven watched as Lance raised their joined hands, the warmth of lips pressing against the soft flesh of his thumb joint as startling as the intensity of the look in Lance's eyes. "W...what for?"

Lance smiled, that special kind that he kept only for Sven. "For trusting me." Shifting closer, he slipped an arm around Sven's shoulders and drew Sven's head down to rest against his. "I know that was hard for you, and I really wanted you to know how much I appreciated it."

Sven was stunned. Obviously, Lance had sat there in the control room that whole time, watching him. "I do trust you. I do," he said softly, as much to remind himself as to reassure Lance.

A soft kiss stirred his hair. "I know." Then another. "I'm so glad we've got today together, Sven. I really am."

There was a promise in Lance's tone, warm and silky, the kind that belonged to nights hidden away together and soft, gentle loving.

But that was later. For now, there was something else he wanted to know. "So," he looked up at Lance and grinned a bit wanly. "Tell me about Shan's 'someone'."

~ fin ~

---

... because once I had this image in my head, I just had to get it out:

Title: A Listening Ear

Fandom: BtVS (Buffy, the Vampire Slayer)

Pairing: implied Spuffy (eh, heavily implied... oh, ok, it's outright Spuffy ^^)

Rating: PG (for mentions of the S.E.X word)

Genre: Humour (I hope)

Summary: One frustrated Slayer has to get a few things off her chest - at least someone's there to sound off to.

---

"No."

"You can stop right there, because I'm not listening. See? This is me, not listening."

"I don't care if it's tradition. Like there's anything traditional about this ... this thing, anyway."

"Oh no. No no no no no. What do you mean why? Because people don't have relationships with dead things, that's why!"

"It's seems traditional for m...? Oh. Oh, see, now that ... that was so not fair. And you can stop that other bit too, because I'm so not going there, either."

"... Don't you dare. Don't. Just d....."

"You just had to go there, didn't you?"

"Okay, okay, fine! People don't have sex with dead things either. Happy now?"

"Okay, okay ... normal people don't have sex with dead things. We've already established I'm not exactly normal, right?"

"So? That's just ... y'know ... lust, I guess. Yes, I said lust! So? What, just because I'm the Slayer, I'm not allowed to have all that hormone-y stuff everyone else gets? Besides, what am I supposed to do, just roll up to his crypt door and say 'Oh, by the way, Happy Valentine's, Spike'? Coz that's so not going to happen."

"Because he'd laugh his ass off, that's why!"

"Like hell it could be worth it. In case you hadn't noticed, this is Big Bad here - not like there's a hell of a lot of future in it."

"Because maybe I don't want there to be a future in it! Hello! Slayer, here! Not a great track record for having futures, anyway!"

"What do you mean, that doesn't seem to stop hi...."

"..."

"..."

"Still doesn't mean I'm going to do it."

"No, I'm not sulking."

"Argh! There's no talking to you sometimes!"

"..."

"..."

"Oh shaddup."

Buffy met the glassy-eyed look from her bed with a broody one of her own, determined not to give in despite the naggy little feeling inside her. It didn't matter, it wasn't important, and why the hell was she arguing over this anyway?

But the bear settled amongst the toys on her pillow still stared back, gently chiding her stubbornness with his fixed, glossy stare.

Sighing, she snatched it from the pile and hugged its softness tightly as she flopped gracelessly onto her covers.

"I hate it when you're right."

~ fin ~

---

... because I was ambushed by this drabble, for no real reason:

Title: Memories of Tea

Fandom: Robotech

Pairing: Lisa/Rick (yes, that's HET, folks!)

Rating: G

Genre: sappy angst (or angsty sap, depending on your POV)

Summary: Why a little teapot means so much

---

Lisa always had a pot of tea waiting on Valentine's.

It wasn't the most romantic thing, she'd grant you, but its soothing warmth and teasing aroma settled deep inside, bringing a gentle calm as it always did.

And if it brought to mind good friends and lost comrades, well that was just the price one paid for being a custodian of their shared memory. Memories of rainy nights and love-filled regrets spoken softly over a low coffee table, fragrant steam rising from the cups in their hands.

If Rick ever wondered why his wife turned slightly teary-eyed as she poured from the little brown pot she treasured so much, he never said so. Instead, he'd take her hand and draw her close and kiss her gently, murmuring reassurances as she tucked her head beneath his chin and wound her arms around his waist.

She could never quite find the words to explain that she wasn't upset, to describe why she felt such deep glow of happiness at that scent, that flavour, shared just between the two of them, here in their own little home.

Deep in her heart, she whispered it. Because in her world, tea would always mean love.

~ fin ~

---

... and last but certainly not least, because this is the monster that started the whole ball rolling:

A/N: At a little over 3,100 + sequel(s) already in motion, this is no drabble folks

Title: Two Chocolate Kisses

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Pairing: light, pre-Ed/Roy

Rating: G

Series deviation from somewhere post Ep 25. Movie-verse does not exist.

Spoilers: a few very minor ones, nothing earth shattering.

Summary: When plans fall through, company comes from the strangest sources.

---

It was his own fault in the end, he realised.

But, no, Roy just had to book dinner as early as possible, gambling against the chance that he'd be able to leave work on time, today of all days. And for once, he'd been motivated by nothing more than that he enjoyed spending time with Renata - maybe not enough for Maes' Get a wife!, but definitely enough to seek out her company often over the past few months.

Often enough, he supposed, for Renata to become tired of last minute phone calls and cancelled dates. She'd slammed the phone down in his ear.

The simple fact was that the life of a military career man did not suit long term relationships, which was the main reason he avoided them in the first place. Things like birthdays, anniversaries and romantically inclined, consumer driven holidays - ones such as today, named in memory of some distant holy man from a long forgotten religion - all took second place to ... what was tonight's problem? Oh yes, the latest reports of potential threats at the northern borders.

So, instead of looking forward to an excellent if late meal and a fine glass of wine in the company of a very lovely, charming young lady, he now had two hours of unexpected paperwork arranging the necessary intervention forces, and then an endless night of solitude. Possibly with whiskey, although he hadn't ruled out the brandy left over from the winter festivities at this point.

Why, why had he not booked for eight instead of six, on Valentine's of all days?

Maria at the flower shop had been very understanding, and rushed the order through for him despite being extremely busy. She hadn't quite been able to keep the note of playful censure from her voice as she chided him, though, flirting in her own unique way. It was amusingly ironic that ladies tended to flirt with him far more than he did with them, but he'd never denied being an opportunist, so he was hardly about to protest the help to his reputation.

The apology he sent with Renata's favourite violets was sincere, carefully worded to suggest that while he didn't anticipate her forgiveness, he had appreciated her unfailing patience. Ladies, in his experience, responded well to that kind of thing.

Oh well. He might as well get a head start on the Intelligence request forms. At least he'd be keeping one woman happy, that way.

He worked through solidly until well after seven. By that time, his hand was aching from the forms in triplicate, and he'd managed to create a sore spot on his left ear from the multitude of calls made and received. It was starting to look like those reports had more weight than he'd thought, which probably meant that someone on their own side had their fingers in a very ugly pie. It was enough to give him a headache.

Definitely time for a coffee, he decided.

The break room on this level of Central Headquarters shared space with the general resources area. Recently, a couple of the tables had somehow migrated into Resources, finding a home between the shelves storing paper supplies and another holding a growing collection of alchemical texts. A small bookshelf of literature on general Amestrian history had also mysteriously materialised on the break side of the room.

Roy suspected that two young alchemists and their bibliophile friend may have had a hand in that.

It was late enough in the day that Roy expected to have both rooms to himself, so it was no wonder that a faint snore from the opposite side of the shelves nearly made him drop the coffee pot.

Thinking that it could not possibly be who he thought it was, except that that snore sounded vaguely familiar, he set the lukewarm carafe back on its base and went into the room to peer around the shelves.

The open books across the table confirmed his suspicions, an ample supply of hand written notes in what his father would have called 'chicken scratch' scattered amongst them. And, in a manner he'd observed many times before, Fullmetal lay asleep in a collapsed if peaceful heap atop the lot.

Roy had always suspected Edward would grow up into an exceptionally remarkable young man in every sense, and had yet to be proven wrong on that score. Had he not endured the years of automail which likely stunted his growth, he showed definite signs of leaning towards tall and lithe. It was an attractive build he still retained even at five foot five, although going on the photos of their childhood, he was never going to have been as tall as Al was turning out to be.

Then again, perhaps it was having the horrendous weight of Al's condition finally lifted from Edward's back that raised the young man's head and eased the knotted tension in his shoulders. Whatever it was, it was a good look on him.

Absently, Roy noted the titles on the books stacked beneath the trail of Ed's ponytail - Rodgerson's Advanced Biology, Essays re: the Effects of Alchemy on the Human Body, and was that Mathers' Principal Investigation into Xingian Alchemy? Hardly surprising, really; Al had only given in to Edward's pleas to drop the whole idea of regaining his brother's missing limbs after his own restoration, on the assurance that Ed would continue his research into bioalchemy.

It was also no suprise that the young Fullmetal was already getting quite a reputation for his abilities in that field.

Being the opportunist that he was, Roy stood and unashamedly watched Ed sleep for a few minutes; he really did enjoy beauty whatever its form, and Edward was admittedly quite pleasant to look upon. But he hadn't had his coffee yet, and he did want to get those acquisition forms started while he was still relatively fresh, so he reluctantly tore himself away from the strangely peace-inducing activity of watching Ed sleep.

It was while he was pouring the coffee that an idea occurred to him, and as he passed the break room door he stole a glance in towards Ed. While much of the table was occupied by Fullmetal's research, there was still plenty of room to spare, so why not?

He placed his coffee mug on the table as softly as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping alchemist, then headed back to his office to collect what paperwork still had to be done. He really didn't want to admit it, but at the moment he was feeling tired and disappointed and not a small bit lonely. Lonely enough that even Ed's company was better than none.

Ed didn't begin to stir until a short while later. Acquisitions had given way to some long range speculative planning, and Roy had even managed to stealthily filch a couple of sheets of paper from the pile beneath Ed's hand just for the challenge instead of getting some from the shelves nearby, before a drowsy mumble made him look up from his own notes.

Ed sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes, and Roy found himself waiting with anticipation for his presence to be noticed. And it was, eventually, after Edward had scrubbed at his face wearily and raked his hands through his fringe and back to straighten his ponytail. His expression became quite comical, hands frozen in the act of pulling the band tight around his hair and eyes growing gradually wider as he realised that Roy had been sitting there for god knew how long and he hadn't even known about it.

"What're you doing here?" It wasn't quite a snap, but not quite a casual question either.

Suppressing the smirk if not the twinkle in his eye, Roy gestured to the notes scattered across his side of the table. "The same as you, it seems."

"But..." Ed stared at him somewhat stupidly. "Don't you have a date?"

"Had, Fullmetal. Unfortunately, some things take precedence."

Ed always had this knack of being insightful exactly when Roy didn't want him to be. "Holy shit. Roy Mustang got dumped on Valentine's Day."

Roy paused to issue a stern glare. "Says he who spends the night in research." Shot delivered, he turned his attention back to his notes with a casual observation, "Speaking of which, I notice you're here without your brother. I hope everything's all right."

"Eh, Al's got a date with some girl tonight." Ed shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "So, y'know ... three's a crowd and all that."

"Ah."

For a moment, the silence settled uncomfortably around the pair, neither quite sure what to fill it with. But there was always research and planning to hide behind, and after a while the atmosphere became comfortable amongst soft scratches on paper and the quiet flip of pages turning.

It was Ed who broke it. "Hey. I was talking with someone about you earlier."

"Were you?" Roy didn't pay much attention to that; in Edward terms, earlier could mean anything from this morning to last week to three months ago.

"Mmm." Their companionable scribblings continued. "Do you remember Anthony Martin?"

Anthony? God, there was a name he hadn't heard since his dorm room days. Sitting back with his arms folded, Roy let himself reminisce for a moment. They'd been such good times. "Quite fondly as a matter of fact."

For the first time, Ed stopped working completely, clearly surprised. "So... It's true?"

Roy couldn't help but smirk. "Which bit?" He scanned the page in front of him, making a note here and there while he schooled his grin into something more casual. "That we had a bit of a dalliance, or that I do occasionally spend time with those on my own side of the fence?"

Ed blinked at him. "Er, both I guess."

One dark eyebrow quirked playfully as Roy studiously flipped the page and kept writing. "Then, yes."

"Wow." Bemused, Fullmetal shook his head slowly as he dragged one of his books closer. "Just ... yeah, wow."

That tone grated on Roy's nerves. "Is it really that shocking, Edward?"

Edward, being Edward, just shrugged, nonchalant, not sparing Roy so much as a glance. "Nah, it's not that." Roy barely caught the tiny twitch of Ed's mouth in time to brace himself. "It's just that ... well, I would've thought that would double your chances of a date...."

The scarcely concealed grin was all that was saving Ed from a mild roasting, and Roy was caught between gritting his teeth and conceding a point in Edward's favour. Humour won out, if only because Roy was partly intrigued and partly delighted by the fact that Fullmetal was teasing him.

Of course, being intrigued didn't mean he wasn't going to tease back. Smirking, he tossed out, "Indeed, Fullmetal. So, tell me, what's it like to be on your first Valentine's date?"

It was amusing to see Ed's pen skitter unexpectedly across the page. Roy kept his grin to himself, watching Ed from beneath hooded lashes as Edward's throat worked and the tip of his tongue skated across dry lips.

But Edward had never been short of a comeback. "Honestly? Pretty shitty so far. The scummy bastard didn't even bring chocolates."

Roy almost choked on his swallowed laugh, just able to cover it with a rough cough. "Touche, Fullmetal. Touche."

Ed's chuckle was rich and full as he turned back to his books, and a foot nudged his playfully beneath the table. Roy found his heart lightened by the sheer absence of the brittleness he used to hear so often beneath Ed's bravado.

That light sort of feeling carried through as he returned to his strategising; oddly, patterns were suddenly becoming a little clearer, connections starting to be made that he'd missed completely back in his office.

They continued that way for a while, Ed in his research, Roy in his papers, both comfortable enough that neither felt the need to stir the calm between them. Occasionally, Roy would make some casual remark or Edward would ask an offhand question, but otherwise the atmosphere between them was ... congenial. Yes, that best described it: congenial. Which surprised Roy to no end.

Some time around nine, though, Edward abruptly started closing books and stacking his notes into some kind of order, and Roy was shocked at the shaft of disappointment that cut through him. Sure, he could head for home himself, but since all that waited there was cheap whiskey, he hardly found the prospect enticing.

Perhaps he should get himself a dog, like Hawkeye had. He liked dogs. Or a cat. After all, cats coped better with being left on their own for long stretches at a time... maybe he should have agreed to Edward's request back when he was fifteen, and just taken the damn thing...

A hand stretching matter-of-factly across the table to snag up a wad of his notes cut off his progressively brooding thoughts.

Ed was already scanning the top pages as Roy blinked up to stare at him. Three pages in, a tiny frown appeared, but still not a word. Clearly, the famous Fullmetal ability to connect dots that other people could only guess at was at work. Intrigued as always, Roy propped his cheek on a fist and just watched.

Soon enough, Ed thunked one page down on the table and turned it towards Roy. "That guy," he said, pointing to a name. "I'm pretty sure Al and me ran into him at Youswell. If I'm right, he was one of the military guys serving with that bastard, Yoki."

Roy scowled at the name. "The one who tried bribing you?"

Ed nodded. "Think it's too much of a coincidence?"

"Possibly not." Roy shuffled through the handful of reports he had brought with him, then presented Ed with several more pages with a raised eyebrow. "Unless you've got a good theory on why his name shows up in those places as well?"

Edward's grin was anything but nice, and Roy chuckled again at the wicked glint in his eye. "Think we've got ourselves a spy?"

"Oh no, Edward, it's much better than that." Roy folded his hands and leaned into the table with that smirk he'd once reserved purely for annoying his young protege. "We've got ourselves a traitor. With any luck, a few."

Ed's grin widened as he caught on; for once, it seemed he didn't mind being a cog in the wheel that gave Roy's career an extra boost, and Roy found himself grinning conspiratorially back.

It was a simple matter of fetching the rest of the reports he'd received recently and distributing the cross referencing between them, after that. The notes started piling up on the table as the shelves behind them became more depleted, Edward's intuitive mental leaps beginning to merge seamlessly with Roy's ability to strategise in several directions at once.

Every now and then, a name would crop up or a place, and Ed invariably had some story to tell, some amusing detail that Roy had managed to miss hearing about (although god only knew how, with the spies he'd had at the time).

Private Matteas, being completely baffled at what had happened to his lunch while he was being dressed down by a senior officer at Eastern HQ (a ham and pickles on rye, and how the hell did Ed remember five year old details like that?).

A statue of a particularly unpleasant Brigadier General at Costa Leir down south, whose bronze uniform suddenly morphed from standard issue to a miniskirt for a whole day (no question at all who that idea had come from, the only question being how Roy missed it in the first place).

Keeping a crush of preschoolers amused while waiting for the train at Dharmain in the north-east, by transmuting one kid's teddy to be able to waddle over to some 'officious pratt' who'd yelled at them earlier, and having it pluck the newspaper directly out of the astonished man's fists and sit down next to him to 'read'.

Quite honestly, this was the best non-dates Roy had ever had.

At some point close to eleven, while Roy was deep in a rush of inspiration, his pen virtually dancing across the page, Ed got up and snagged Roy's mug from where it had been shoved to one side. A stray thought wandered through his mind, absently musing if Fullmetal was usually this domestic, but there were too many other things to work on to give it full consideration.

He was outlining a vague idea to give the errant Lieutenant Janson an extra rope with which to hang himself, when a rich fragrance tantalised his senses and a mug casually materialised by his hand. He barely managed to conceal his outright astonishment, with only his eyes slipping sideways to stare at the mug to give him away.

The mug ... and two heart-shaped chocolate kisses on a plain white plate.

Obviously, someone must have left a box in the kitchen somewhere. A peculiar, sneaking sensation made the back of his neck tingle, though ...

He checked the plate again, then chanced a look towards Edward. Yes, there were indeed two chocolates sitting innocently on the plate, and yes, there was indeed a slight flush to the cheeks of the young alchemist studiously looking anywhere but at him.

Well.

Well, well, well. This was unexpected. Unexpected, and yet... Well, after all, he was an opportunistic bastard. An admittedly somewhat lonely opportunistic bastard.

With as much casual aplomb as he could manage, he reached for a sip from his mug, pleasantly surprised to find it fresh and hot, then plucked up one of the chocolates and popped it in his mouth. As chocolate, it was adequate - just. As a gesture, it was marvellously Edward.

He allowed himself another calculated sip of his coffee, relishing the kick of the rich caffeine, then just as casually moved the plate with its little candy gift forward to Fullmetal's side.

"Happy Valentine's to you too, Edward," he murmured.

He was too much of a gentleman to mention the rise in colour on Ed's cheeks, and too much of a red-blooded male not to be delighted at the rather shy smile lighting the golden eyes that stole a glance.

It was enough to make Roy smile in return. Happy Valentine's, indeed.

~ fin ~

---

There's more fics in the works, including banditscribe's VV Hazar/Hawkins fic. Please, feel free to hassle me about it. I think I need the motivation. ^^;;


I'll be doing some cross posting myself in the next few days - the LV & FMA in particular - but if anyone fancies linking any of these to comms I don't participate in, you have my full permission ^_~