Archer stared at the small bouquet of flowers on his desk. He looked up at the messenger with eyebrows raised. "What is this?"
"Flowers, sir. It's a standard military courtesy when one gets married."
Archer's blue eyes narrowed. "Married?"
"Yes, sir. Or partnered up. Marriage, domestic partners, same damn thing really." He shrugged.
Archer stared at him. The man began to shift from foot to foot. Finally, the Colonel nodded, dismissing the nervous messenger, who scuttled off with a hastily offered "Congratulations, sir."
Archer slowly stood, straightening out his uniform. He picked up the offending vase of flowers and set off down the hall to the records office. He was annoyed by the odd looks he received and the nervous calls of "Congratulations." By the time he reached the records office, he was ready to throw the damn vase of flowers at someone.
The secretary in the records room looked up and blanched at his homicidal expression. "Can I help you sir?" She asked.
"Yes," he said, setting the flowers heavily on her desk. "Perhaps you could explain to me why I received a bouquet of flowers this afternoon."
Her eyes flicked to the flowers and back to him. "Standard procedure, sir."
"So, I've heard," he snapped. "But I do not recall getting married, so why am I getting flowers?"
"Sir, your partner filed the papers just last week."
Archer paused. "My...partner?"
She nodded. "State Alchemist Kimblee, sir."
Archer's eye twitched. "Well that certainly explains things." He turned on his heel, stalking out of the office.
"Sir, the flowers!" The secretary called.
Leaving the offending flowers behind, Archer stormed towards Kimblee's office. The Alchemist was, predictably, napping. His head was in his arms on the small desk scratched full of ominous alchemy circles. There was a small vase of flowers, identical to his own damned bouquet, sitting on the corner of Kimblee's desk. Archer slammed his hands down on the desk and Kimblee jumped awake, gold eyes flashing dangerously. He looked at Archer and grinned.
"Oh, it's just you baby," he said, arching his back in a lazy stretch.
Archer picked up the flowers. "What the hell is this?" he demanded.
Kimblee tilted his head. "Flowers."
Archer's eyes narrowed. "I can see that," he bit out. "What I want to know is why I'm receiving them."
"Well, I finally got around to having the paperwork filled out. I made us all legal, my little wife," Kimblee purred. He lurched awkwardly out of the chair as Archer hummed the vase of flowers at his head. Water and glass sprayed across the floor as the vase hit the wall. Kimblee popped up with a carnation on his head. "What the hell was that for?"
"You did what?" Archer yelled.
"I filed domestic partners papers," Kimblee said, pouting, as he stood and wiped at the water spots on his uniform.
"Why the hell did you do that? And how did you do that without my permission?"
Kimblee looked up. "I did it because we've been living together for well over a year. About fucking time don't you think? And as for the permission. I had it. You signed the papers yourself."
"I did no such thing!" Archer yelled.
"Yes, you did," Kimblee countered.
"Last week, when I visited you in your office."
Archer's eyes widened. Last week, Kimblee had, in fact, brought in a stack of papers flagged in various locations for signatures. Kimblee had chattered on like a mad chipmunk the whole time, distracting him from ever really reading the forms. Just needed for his research, the alchemist had insisted as he knelt before Archer and pulled open his uniform pants. He remembered giving the papers a cursory glance and a messy scribble as Kimblee had proceeded to gain his complete attention.
"You tricked me!" Archer shouted.
Kimblee shrugged. "If I hadn't, you never would have signed them."
"Of course I wouldn't!"
"See, I had to take action. You would have just gone on letting us live that way forever. It's about time you settled down Franky Boy."
"I will kill you," Archer growled.
"No you won't," Kimblee said, coming around from behind the desk. "Too much paperwork to fill out. And since you're my partner now, you have to arrange the funeral and I don't think you'll get any insurance money if you kill me now."
"So, I should wait a few months and make it look like an accident?"
"Frank!" Kimblee gave him a scandalized look.
"No sense in letting a perfectly good Alchemist pension go to waste," Archer mused.
"You're a bastard," Kimblee muttered, draping himself across Archer's chest.
"So are you."
"Yeah, but you like me that way." Kimblee grinned cheekily.
"I like you better when your mouth is shut."
"That's not true, just last week you were telling me I had the most fantastic mou-" Archer cut him with a fierce kiss.
Kimblee grinned, eagerly joining in the brief battle of dominance between their mouths. He ended up pressed against his desk with Archer leaning into him, keeping him pinned. When the Colonel pulled back, Kimblee held him in place between his knees with a firm grip on Archer's waist.
"So," he began, "about the honeymoon. I hear the ocean is nice this time of year."
Well, there you have it, the result of an evil case of the plot bunnies. Perhaps some more of the themes are to follow? I don't want to promise anything I can't deliver, but I already have a few things in mind. Hope you enjoyed the fic. ^_^
Next - Honeymooning