Fullmetal Alchemist: All In One

Welcome to my Fullmetal Alchemist fics. All the fics so far are based on the anime rather than the manga. I should mention at the outset that I am not a Specific-shipper and will not be in sympathy with denunciations of any pairing. If there is any pairing principle in operation for this page, it’s Roy x anyone who strikes my fancy, plus whatever else sounds fun.

Air Feeds Fire

After Ed has to kill he has to deal with having killed. Divergent Future, Drama With Porn, I-4, faint spoiler ep 25

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

I

Edward Elric was not crying.

He had not cried standing in the bright winter afternoon with blood freezing on the metal of his hand. He had not cried when Hawkeye drew him back so the soldiers could take away the body. He had not cried when they came back to the headquarters complex, merely asked Al to go up to their rooms without him.

Roy had seen the aftermath of enough days like the one just past to know precisely how much trouble that meant.

That was why he had kept a quiet eye on Ed all day and finally ended up standing on the roof at nearly midnight, watching his protégé kneel motionless by the rail, still not crying but pressing his clasped hands hard against his mouth.

“Hagane.”

There was no response. Roy had not really expected one.

He came softly, and just a bit cautiously, to kneel behind Ed and draw the boy back against him. Ed was shivering, but Roy had little hope that it was from the cold of the night.

“Let go.”

That, finally, provoked a reaction, a violent head-shake. Roy tightened his grip.

“Ed, you must.”

The shiver was harder, now. Ed’s breath was coming uneven, as if he had run a race to the end of his endurance and a bit beyond. When he looked up Roy had to conceal a wince.

Earlier the normally expressive eyes and mouth had been utterly blank. Now the eyes were dull, the gold frosted, and bitter lines caged his mouth.

“I… I’ll…”

“It will be all right.”

“No! Leave it…!” Ed broke off with a wrench in his voice.

Roy blew out his breath in a white cloud.

“You know,” he murmured, “many would say that I only helped you go where you wished to go, and that’s true. But it’s also true that I knew the path you chose would bring you here some day, and you did not know it. I’ve been your commander these five years, knowing that someday you would kill. So here you are, and here I am. Let it go, Ed. For this night, I’m here. I promise to catch you.”

The shiver had become a wracking shudder, and Ed finally turned into Roy’s arms and the golden head pressed into his shoulder. The harsh breathing ran over into sobs.

Roy said nothing more, only held Ed and stroked his hair and waited.

At last Ed quieted. Roy took it as a measure of the boy’s exhaustion and pain that he made no protest when Roy gathered him up and carried him inside. After a moment’s thought Roy turned toward the rooms he kept here for the, frequent, occasions when he couldn’t be bothered to walk home. Al didn’t need to be worried by seeing his brother like this, and Ed didn’t need the pressure to be the collected big brother. Reaching his room Roy only bothered with a single candle, by whose light he set Ed down on the bed and briskly stripped off his coat, belt, boots and shirt before pulling up the blankets.

Ed looked up at him, neither blank nor frozen but his eyes were hazy and his mouth at a loss. When he spoke his voice was barely there.

“Taisa…”

“Sleep.”

Ed’s eyes widened and his jaw set, hard.

Roy wadded two of his many pillows up against the headboard, kicked off his own boots, and settled down beside Ed. As an afterthought, Roy drew the tie out of Ed’s hair.

“Sleep,” he repeated, firmly. “I’ll stay with you.

He carded his fingers lightly through Ed’s hair, unraveling his braid, until the wide, alarmed eyes began to drift closed.

After perhaps an hour Roy allowed himself to hope that this would be enough. It took people differently. For some, the simple presence of another human being who understood was comfort enough, and Ed was, after all, still quite young. If that failed, alcohol was a common alternative. Roy had seen a few scholarly sorts who got through the night by reading favorite books. It was as good a way to avoid reality for a little as any other, he supposed. His mouth quirked up, recalling how Hughes had gotten him though a night like this, years ago.

Roy rested his head back, starting to doze.

Perhaps it would be enough.

II

The gun was swinging around…

“Ed.”

Ten more centimeters and it would level with Ed’s chest…

“Ed, wake up.”

Not yet! He lunged forward…

“Haaaa!”

Hands were on his shoulders, it was too warm to be outside, his throat hurt. Ed blinked, and the chiaroscuro of the room resolved into Roy Mustang.

He’s not wearing his uniform. He always wears his uniform. Ed shook his head sharply at the total irrelevance of that observation. What…?

He remembered the Colonel promising to stay, the roof, the street in the afternoon sun… A shudder ran through him, and he fell back on the bed. The Colonel propped himself beside Ed on one elbow, apparently the better to examine him. He actually seemed… worried.

Ed turned his face away.

Mustang reached out and turned it back.

“You were dreaming about it?” he asked, before Ed could snap at him.

Ed flinched, and turned over to put his back to his commander. A familiar sigh, though less extravagant than usual, brushed past his ear.

“That won’t work, Ed.”

Mustang leaned over and pulled Ed back around, and looked down at him very seriously.

“Have you ever been drunk?”

Ed blinked at the non sequitur, startled into answering.

“Once. I remember being very upset about absolutely everything. Can’t think why people enjoy it.”

“Mm. That won’t do then.”

The Colonel’s look had turned thoughtful, as if he were carefully turning over words for some question he wanted to ask. Ed waited, feeling suspended in a bubble of unreality between the horror he was trying not to think about and the normal, daily routines of life that he couldn’t quite manage to recall right now. He wanted to do something to drive the horror further away, but couldn’t think what would do it. And the tangible warmth of the Colonel’s body beside him was comforting when so much else familiar seemed so far away. Under that warmth a little of the tension seeped out of Ed’s shoulders.

Mustang nodded, as if Ed had answered whatever question he hadn’t yet asked, leaned down and kissed him.

It was a gentle kiss, but it continued for a while. Long enough for Ed’s mind to stop being blank. Long enough to notice how pleasant the blankness had been, and to register that the experience was not actually displeasing. Just… startling. When Mustang drew back Ed couldn’t quite find anything to say.

“Perhaps, yes,” Mustang mused, and added more quietly, “what a memorial for him.”

The feeling of unreality clashed with the extreme presence of the moment as Mustang’s mouth found Ed’s again. Moments of time flashed through Ed’s mind. The Colonel smirking at some successful manipulation; the Colonel coldly ordering him to pull himself together; the Colonel smiling evilly at Ed’s fury; the soft look that sometimes passed over Mustang’s face when he found some new lead or hope for his star subordinate. And a new moment, now, Mustang’s fingers threaded into Ed’s hair and his lips warm against Ed’s ear, and Ed didn’t care, now, about the strangeness, because Mustang was making him solid and here and that was enough.

He started to lift his hands, hesitated, and only closed the left on Mustang’s arm. Mustang lifted his head.

“Use both hands. I don’t want you stopping to think about anything just now.”

Ed let those words echo in his head, understanding that Mustang meant to distract him with this, probably quite extensively, and that if he consented he would have to trust Mustang to see him though something he had no experience of.

He hated not knowing what he was doing.

Mustang was waiting for his answer.

Slowly, Ed reached up and wrapped both arms around Mustang’s back.

Something flashed in the dark eyes looking down at him, like that sometime softness but hotter. Ed let out his breath and shivered as Mustang scattered a line of butterfly kisses down his chest.

Mustang’s gloves were of such rough cloth Ed hadn’t expected his hands to be so soft. Soft and cool, in contrast to the warmth of his body, as they mapped paths down Ed’s arms, circling his wrists and fingers, across his stomach. And finally, slowly, between his legs.

“Aaaaaahhh…”

Ed’s body arched up against Mustang’s hand, his lips parting under Mustang’s mouth as his legs, half reflexively, opened under Mustang’s touch. His own hands closed hard over Mustang’s shoulders, trying to brace himself in the tide of sensation. As Mustang paused to unfasten Ed’s pants, Ed gathered the wits to note that he seemed quite adept at it; a lot of practice, perhaps. The thought made him laugh, and Mustang drew back a bit.

“I’m sorry; did that tickle?”

“Only in my head.” Ed’s own reply made him laugh again.

Mustang’s brows twitched up, and then he smiled.

“You’re much too coherent.”

He tipped Ed’s head to the side and began to trace the tendons of his neck. Ed’s wits departed again. When he felt Mustang’s tongue and then teeth on his throat such heat rushed down Ed’s spine that he barely noticed the departure of his remaining clothes, too.

The feeling of other cloth against his skin recalled him.

“You’re wearing too much,” he managed, though his voice was husky.

Mustang didn’t joke this time. His mouth lost its usual curl and became grave as he brushed back Ed’s loose hair. “I don’t want to push you to anything tonight.”

Ed shook his head and ran a finger down Mustang’s shirt, looking studiously at it to avoid his eyes.

“I…” I want to feel your skin. He couldn’t possibly say that! Ed felt himself blushing and damned his fair coloring for the umpteenth time, because Mustang was sure to notice it, even in the low light.

“Hmm.”

Mustang’s faint smile had returned, Ed could hear it. He saw it, too, when Mustang stood up from the bed and Ed looked up.

Mustang gracefully stripped his clothes off, wholly unembarrassed, and his eyes never left Ed’s.

This was not helping the blush to go away.

And it was different, when Mustang returned to the bed. The light slid over his skin and down long, sleek muscles. The heat of his body was shocking, and his weight somehow more solid now. It left Ed gasping as Mustang sank down over him, and he froze at the silk-shivery feeling.

Again, Mustang waited for him. Waited with a question in his eyes. Waited until Ed breathed out an answer.

“Roy…”

Then he moved, and Ed lost track of time and thought, because the world consisted of Roy’s skin against his own; of Roy’s palms sliding down his ribs, urging his legs apart. Roy’s teeth nibbled the inside of Ed’s thigh, stealing his voice; Roy’s hair brushed, feathery, against him; the burning wet heat of Roy’s mouth closed on him, stealing even his breath.

Fire unfurled through Ed’s veins, tossed him up like a spark. He felt the curl of Roy’s tongue but couldn’t feel the bed under him. Everything in him rushed down, down to one point, and then swept out like a shock front, leaving him shaken, trying to remember how to breathe.

Gradually his attention to normal details returned, and he noticed Roy lying against his side tracing random patterns over his collarbones.

“What about you?” Ed asked, as his wits recovered enough to determine what the localized pressure against his leg probably was.

Roy lifted his head. “Aren’t you falling asleep?”

Ed, pleased to be contrary, gave him a smug smile. “Nope. What about you?” he repeated.

“I hadn’t thought to go quite that far to distract you.”

“Whatever works,” Ed shrugged, insouciant as he could manage while naked.

Like the flame he commanded, Roy had created a small sphere of light and warmth, but Ed could feel what was outside that sphere waiting for him. He didn’t want to leave yet. On the other hand, there were certain stories that he had overheard both among the soldiers and on his travels… He looked up at Roy. “Would it hurt?”

It took Roy a second to follow Ed’s train of thought, and then surprise flickered across his face, followed by speculation. At last, he drew himself up with cool dignity. Quite unfairly, Ed thought, he managed it very well despite being naked. “It certainly would not. I have considerably more skill that than, Edward-kun.”

The tone was classic Mustang-taisa, but he was grinning. Ed, already on edge, broke down laughing again, but buried his head against Roy’s shoulder, shy of the sudden intimacy brought by that look. How much more intimate can we get? he wondered, exasperated with his own silliness. As Roy’s arms closed around him, though, Ed knew that somehow this moment was far more intimate than what Roy had just done for him. And compared to this, even that might be lesser.

“Do it, then,” he whispered.

Roy put a hand under his chin and tipped Ed’s face up to see his eyes. “Ed…”

The question was back, and this time Ed scraped together words to answer it. The man who had stayed by him tonight, who had known and cared what he would be feeling, who had used him and driven him and protected him, who had let him fly free to chase a dream all these years, deserved words now. “If you say you won’t hurt me, you won’t. I trust you.”

Roy’s eyes widened with more surprise than Ed had ever seen him show. And then his mouth quirked and he leaned over to rummage in his nightstand, emerging with a small bottle whose cap he removed and set handy. He looked back at Ed, one brow tilting up. Ed, remembering some more of the stories he’s heard, blushed again, but didn’t look away.

“Do it.”

Roy’s hand passed down the length of Ed’s spine, drawing Ed to him. “I will.”

His hand worked its way up again, digging into the muscles, gradually unwinding them. Ed, pressed full length against Roy’s body, was hard put to stop himself from purring.

“Sure you’re not trying to make me sleep?” he sighed, eyes half closed.

“Not asleep, but I do need you to be relaxed.”

“Couldn’ get much more r’laxed than that,” Ed mumbled against Roy’s chest.

The grin edged back into Roy’s voice. “We’ll see.”

Having reduced Ed to suitable pliability, Roy arranged him, spread out, on the bed and set out to discover every particularly sensitive spot on his body. Ed himself hadn’t been aware of any of them. The sole of his foot; just behind his ankle; the back of his knee. Roy spent some time on the hollow of Ed’s hip, making him squirm. When Roy sucked, hard, on Ed’s nipple the sudden spike of sensation brought Ed up off the bed. Roy gave him a smug look through his eyelashes before moving on to Ed’s shoulder.

The odyssey ended with Roy lying over Ed, teeth and tongue playing with his ear.

“Thought you… haaaa ah… said… relaxed…”

“Much too coherent,” Roy chuckled. His voice, so close and soft, so resonant and deeper than Ed remembered hearing before, swept a shudder through him every time Roy spoke.

“It won’t hurt, regardless, but for you to enjoy it I also need your proper… attention.”

He moved his hips against Ed’s.

“Ah!”

“Mm. Impressive, as always, Hagane.”

Ed couldn’t manage a proper glare, but the glint in Roy’s eyes said he appreciated the effort.

In a rush Roy sat back on his knees and pulled Ed up to straddle him. The irrepressible corner of Ed’s mind noted that he was now taller than Roy, but only had a moment to appreciate it before Roy slid a hand up into Ed’s hair and drew him down to a kiss. This kiss was deep, demanding that Ed not only receive but return. Ed thought, a bit fuzzily, that Roy seemed to be pursuing Ed’s voice with his tongue. Roy’s tongue tasted faintly of salt, and something else Ed couldn’t place.

Then Roy’s other hand returned, slick now, sliding between Ed’s cheeks, moving, circling, slowly pressing… in.

Ed made a sharp sound in his throat. Neither his body nor his mind could quite decide how to react. Roy’s fingers were still moving, as if seeking something… something… oh…

Tremors raced through Ed. His hips jerked against Roy. His moan was swallowed in the kiss. And Roy’s fingers were still moving, pressing, there… there

Ed broke away from the kiss and tossed his head back, and Roy laughed.

“Now. This wasn’t it?”

His teeth closed once again on Ed’s throat and Ed lost all control of his movement and thrust hard against Roy.

Now.”

Roy let Ed back down on the bed, and Ed’s senses narrowed down to snapshots. Roy’s hands spreading him open. That sliding pressure again, but larger this time. Slowly, slowly, moving. Ed’s own hands clenched on the sheets; the thought flashed by that his right hand was probably putting holes in it. And something… shifted. The slow movement was smoother. He’s… inside me. Ed let out breath he hadn’t know he was holding, and for the first time heard an answering sigh from Roy.

Roy was leaning over him on one hand. Sweat gleamed on his skin, his breath came fast through parted lips, his eyes were half-lidded but burning. Because of me… Ed’s presence, his body, had broken the reserve of this famously reserved man. The thought curled, hot, in his stomach.

And then Roy shifted, moving inside Ed again, sliding, pressing there, and his other hand came up to surround Ed and stroke him, and the heat surged up, wringing Ed’s every nerve. He could hear his voice and Roy’s, but both were distant. The fire closed on him, tighter, tighter, and Ed strained with it, spreading his legs and stretching his arms wide into it, seeking the hard movement of Roy’s body, until the world shattered into sparks and brilliance.

“Ed!”

When his senses returned to normal order Roy was leaning on both hands and they were both panting.

“Roy… I…” Ed couldn’t, for the life of him, think how to finish his sentence.

Roy gave him a faint, gentle smile and stroked back his hair before hauling himself off the bed with a slight groan. “Wait here a moment, Ed.”

Roy returned with a damp towel and a glass of water. He handed the glass to Ed and dropped two small pills into his hand. “Take those,” he directed, “or you’ll feel it in the morning.”

Lassitude was too pleasant for Ed to emerge just to ask what Roy was talking about.

“I trust” Roy remarked, as he settled back down, “that you’ll be going to sleep now?”

Ed mumbled an affirmative, just aware enough to hear Roy’s Good and feel a cool hand rest on his shoulder before he was asleep.

III

Roy woke slowly, slowly enough to remember who was in bed beside him before he started and woke Ed.

He propped his head on his hand and regarded the boy for some minutes. In the approaching dawn, with the sheet cast down around his hips and his hair fanned out over the pillow, Ed looked like an artist’s sculpture. Roy was reasonably sure that Ed had, as yet, not the faintest idea how striking he was, but Roy had watched his protégé’s gold eyes and powerful body attracting admiration and desire for several years now.

That Ed had actually let Roy do this was… unexpected. Roy had been careful not to step beyond the line of teasing, with him. Of course, these were extraordinary circumstances. He didn’t regret using something that had drawn Ed back from the edge so well, but he hoped that this night would not disturb the working relationship he had spent so much time fostering…

Ed stirred, stretched, opened his eyes. He blinked, visibly putting his memory in order, and finally reached up a hand to touch, briefly, the center of Roy’s chest.

“Thank you. Taisa.”

End

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 05, 04
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Circumstances

Roy and Ed find out about the new contract. Porn With Insights and Occasional Purple, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Ed stared out a third floor window of East City military headquarters and grumbled to himself. “Never find the damn Stone at this rate… How many years?… ratings… stupid…” Ed thumped the windowpane, left handed, to relieve his frustration.

“Hm? Does that mean you’ll be staying here from now on?”

Startled, Ed tried to inhale in the wrong direction.

Once he’d gotten his choking under control he leveled a glare at the man who had sprung up out of nowhere at his elbow, and growled. “Taisa…”

Roy Mustang received the glare serenely, waving toward the window. “A fine view to console yourself with, Edward-kun. You haven’t answered my question.”

Ed snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He leaned back against the window. There wasn’t much hope the Colonel would go away if ignored, but at least the cool glass might help the Mustang-induced headache. Sure enough, Mustang leaned beside him, just a bit too close for comfort. Ed rolled his eyes and took up his muttering again, internally this time.

Evil minded bastard… gets his jollies annoying people… bad karma… didn’t deserve this though…

A gloved finger trailed down Ed’s neck.

Ed made a heek noise and sprang two meters sideways. “Taisa!”

Mustang’s slight smile never faltered. He strolled towards Ed, who backed up. “So formal, Edward-kun? Surely it isn’t necessary.”

Ed’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious about this. You’re never serious about this! All that meaningful look, personal space, knowing grin stuff, you’ve never been serious! …have you?” Ed had run into a desk, and the Colonel wasn’t stopping, and his tirade ended a bit higher than it had started. “You’re not…”

As the Colonel’s head bent toward him, Ed shoved him off to arm’s length. “You can’t do that! This is a shounen series!” he hissed.

Mustang blinked at him. “You hadn’t heard?”

“…heard what?”

“We’ve been transferred.”

“…what?”

“Our print-media contract was bought by another company and given to one of their contractors.”

In absolute calm, Ed asked The Question.

“Who?”

Mustang rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “One of the ones who publish BL lines, I believe.”

“What?!” Ed screeched.

“Mm. Maybe it was Biblios.”

Ed hyperventilated.

“Or possibly Kadokawa Shoten; you know, the ones who publish CLAMP.”

Ed turned dead white and clutched at the desk.

“So, you see, there’s a new script direction of course. Are you quite all right, Edward-kun?” Mustang put a solicitous hand under Ed’s arm as he swayed.

That’s… and now… he’s supposed to… I’m… Ed shook himself sharply and came to the rather abrupt realization that the Colonel still had him backed up against a desk and was now inside his guard. The Colonel was, in fact, leaning comfortably with a hand to each side of Ed on the desk.

“It won’t work,” Ed declared firmly.

“Really?”

Ed shot the Colonel a dirty look. “You’re supposed to… well… with me? No, it’s a complete miscast, it’ll never work.”

“How so?” Mustang inquired, conversationally, not moving.

Ed swelled with outrage. “I. Am. Not. Uke!”

“Edward-kun,” Mustang said in his most patient and reasonable tone, “I’m fourteen years older than you, several ranks higher, and, while your combat skills are indeed outstanding, I still win the actual fight. As has been demonstrated. And,” with the air of delivering a clinching argument, “I’m seven centimeters taller than you.”

Ed opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again.

“Stupid rule, anyway,” he grumbled.

“Well, yes,” Mustang conceded. “It does rather put me at a disadvantage, myself, in almost any other situation. I’ll help you write a letter of protest to the management, I think.”

He looked down at Ed.

“Later.”

Ed’s mouth tightened.

“Am I so distasteful to you, Edward-kun?” Mustang murmured.

“You’re not anything! I’ve never thought about this! You’re…” Ed waved a hand as if he could catch the right words out of the air.

He categorically refused to say that he thought of Mustang a bit as a friend and somewhat as a really annoying older brother.

“You’re my boss!” he finally finished.

Mustang widened his eyes. “Why I do believe you’re right, Edward-kun! How nice to know that you’re also aware of the fact.”

A really, really annoying older brother. Ed narrowed his own eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant,” he clipped out.

Mustang regarded him evenly for long enough to make Ed start worrying. “Is it beneath you, then, to take some passing pleasure from a friend?” he asked, at last.

Ed froze. He’s not telepathic. He’s not telepathic! I refuse to believe it! No matter who’s writing! On the other hand… however he’d come by it, Mustang did have a point. If he thought of Mustang as a not-distant-friend the idea almost worked. And Ed didn’t actually want to think about how much trouble it would be to break his contract now.

Ed drove both hands through his hair and sighed. “All right, all right. But let’s have a few things straight.” He ticked off points on the fingers of his right hand. “No kinky stuff. I am not crying. I am not drooling. You don’t make out like I’m helpless. And if I say no I mean NO.”

He folded down the last finger and looked meaningfully at Mustang over the resulting closed fist. A corner of Mustang’s mouth curled up.

“Fair enough. I’m sure there’s latitude in the script for that.”

“All right, then.” Ed folded his arms and looked steadily off to the side.

“Well?” he prodded, after a few moments. “You’re the one who gets to do all the work in this set-up, you know.”

“Then it differs not at all from my day job,” Mustang mused.

Ed’s head snapped back around, mouth open to protest that he was the field agent, here, and Mustang kissed him.

Every muscle in Ed’s body tensed, but he managed not to leap backwards off the desk, or possibly through the window, and held still. After a few seconds Mustang drew back to look at him, unsmiling.

“Edward. If you truly don’t want this, I’m sure there are ways around it.”

Ed lifted an eyebrow and this time it was Mustang’s mouth that thinned.

“I don’t want you unwilling, Edward. I’ve never wanted you unwilling for anything.”

Ed gazed back, caught by the words. He had to allow that it was probably true. For all that he was a scheming, conniving, rat-bastard, the Colonel had rarely spoken less than the truth to Ed. He had never offered false hope. He had, in fact, given Ed unfailing, if sarcastic, support. And, Ed added a bit sourly to himself, given the Colonel’s extensive reputation it was unlikely to be a bad experience. At last he looked up, seriously.

“Don’t expect me to jump right in at the deep end,” he warned.

Mustang’s mouth softened. “I won’t.” And then a gleam entered his eyes. “It will make a pleasant challenge that way.”

Ed swallowed just a bit hard. “Taisa. You’re not actually a sex maniac, right?”

The Colonel chuckled with great good humor. “Of course not, Edward-kun. You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“Well, now, that’s not exactly in spec either, is it?” Ed pointed out, nettled.

“No, I suppose not.” Mustang’s smile turned wry. “Perhaps we’re both just a bit miscast. We’ll have to make do as best we can, hm?”

Ed shrugged acceptance.

Mustang tugged off his gloves and curved his hands around Ed’s face, tilting his head back. This time he gave Ed plenty of warning. Ed wasn’t sure whether that was an improvement. The slow approach almost gave him too much time to anticipate. A shiver blew over him just before Mustang’s lips touched his.

Mustang’s kisses were soft, light, there and then gone. Ed heaved a faint sigh and relaxed just a bit. Mustang sucked gently, coaxing, on his lower lip, and Ed slowly opened his mouth.

Still, Mustang’s lips only brushed his, open mouthed now. It felt like a feather, drawn over Ed’s lips again and again.

Cool hands slid down his neck and over his shoulders, pushing away his coat. Ed tensed again, both hands closing on the front of Mustang’s uniform jacket. He felt Mustang’s lips curve against his own. Mustang drew back and smoothly shed his jacket, raising a brow as he did. The implicit offer of the Colonel going first calmed Ed. Not that it would come out even, considering how many layers that uniform had, but as good faith gestures went it wasn’t bad. Ed let Mustang lift the red coat off his shoulders.

As Mustang stepped close again Ed looked up, biting his lip. He raised one finger in a wait-a-moment gesture. Mustang waited. Ed pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the desk behind him, which brought him almost level with Mustang. He nodded, satisfied. “Much better.”

For some reason this assertion seemed to amuse Mustang. “Are you sure?”

“Yeees,” Ed answered, warily. “Why?”

This smile showed teeth. Mustang took one long step forward… between Ed’s legs.

Ed inhaled sharply.

Mustang laughed. “Truly, Edward, there’s no need to be so on edge.”

“When you like playing games like that?” Ed snapped.

Mustang sighed and lifted a hand to brush Ed’s cheek with his fingers. “But don’t you enjoy playing games too? Isn’t that one of the reasons you’ve been willing to stay in my command? Think of this as another game, Edward.”

Ed gave him a trenchant look.

“So. Perhaps another way, then.” Mustang enclosed Ed’s face in his hands again. His voice lowered and turned serious. “Edward, my friend, I will not harm you. I will not force you. If you let me I will make this very enjoyable for you.”

Ed held very still between Mustang’s hands. He couldn’t see any spark of joking in the man’s eyes, and Mustang was holding him as if he were something both fragile and valuable. Ed fetched in a deep breath that wavered only a little and let his head fall to Mustang’s shoulder.

“All right,” he whispered.

Mustang’s arms came around him and Ed felt a hand stroking his hair. Gradually that hand seemed to leech the tension out of Ed’s neck and shoulders until, with one long shudder, he finally relaxed.

When Mustang placed a kiss just below his ear it caused only a slight hitch in Ed’s breath.

“Much better.” There was satisfaction in Mustang’s voice.

“Taisa,” Ed mumbled against Mustang’s shoulder, “why are you going to this much trouble? Don’t tell me you couldn’t wind the script around your little finger if you wanted to.”

“If I tell you, will you call me by name?”

Ed grumbled about extortion, but agreed.

“Because you deserve some pleasure for the troubles you’ve had under my command. Because I think your sense of mischief will make you an interesting lover. Because you’ve grown from a pretty child into a stunning young man. Is that enough?”

Ed lifted his head. “Is there more?”

He caught just a moment when Mustang’s eyes were as deep as a midnight sky, and then their expression shifted and they were merely very dark blue.

“Perhaps,” Mustang answered.

A thought whispered through Ed’s mind, Not yet, and he nodded. “It’ll do for now.”

“Good.”

Mustang drew Ed to the edge of the desk, until their bodies were flush against each other, and kissed him with concentration. Not feathery kisses, this time, but still coaxing, teasing Ed’s tongue. Ed’s exhale became a moan, and Mustang returned a low chuckle into their kiss. It felt as if Mustang had trailed a finger down the inside of Ed’s spine.

And then Mustang’s fingers did find his spine, weaving down it as if Mustang wanted to braid his nerves. Ed leaned against him, shivering.

Mustang broke off the kiss long enough to shed his shirt and run an inquiring finger down the front of Ed’s. Ed nodded, wordless. Mustang took his time about it, fingers brushing Ed’s stomach, ribs, shoulders until, when it was finally off, Ed reached for him just to have a solid touch.

The sleek heat of Mustang’s skin against his almost changed his mind. Ed dropped his head back down to Mustang’s shoulder and, when the man’s palms slid up his back, turned his mouth against Mustang’s neck to stop whatever sound was trying to make its way out.

“Ed…”

The low breath of Mustang’s voice moved over Ed like desert wind, hot enough to burn. Ed had time to realize that Mustang’s voice was affecting him more deeply than the touch of his hands when those hands found his hips and pulled them tight together.

“Aahhh!” Ed arched back sharply, startled by the sudden wash of sensation, felt Mustang’s hand come up between his shoulders, guiding him down to the desk, felt the surface under him cool and… soft?

Ed panted, staring at the ceiling for a while before turning his head to see that he was lying on a bed. He turned back to look very calmly at Roy, kneeling over him.

“When?”

“Just now,” Roy confirmed, bemused. “A fast cut. I’ve heard of the technique, but our previous writers never used it.”

“This isn’t my bed,” Ed informed him evenly. “Can I hope that it’s yours?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good.” Ed took another look and raised an eyebrow. “You have silk sheets?”

“Ah. Mine with some alterations, apparently.”

Ed reached up and dragged one of the pillows over his face. “Alterations. Wonderful.”

The bed dipped, to the accompaniment of some rustling and throat-clearing noises. When Mustang spoke it was in the tone of a man trying not to laugh lest he get nailed with a pillow.

“Shall I take it I have some work to do to retrieve the mood?”

Ed hauled off the pillow so he could glare at his companion, now leaning at ease on one elbow. “Mood!? Never mind the mood! What else is going to happen?”

Roy brushed Ed’s disheveled hair back. “Nothing you don’t want to happen. Will you accept my word for it?”

It’s the voice, Ed decided, looking away. “Yes.”

A pause.

“Will you let me take your hair down?”

Ed looked back around and blinked a few times. “…if you want.”

Roy pulled him up to sit cross-legged and settled behind him. Ed felt light fingers undo his hair tie and slowly start to unwind the braid. They combed his hair out, sliding against his neck and back. His breathing started to deepen.

“You have the most magnificent hair,” Roy purred in his ear. “I’d almost hate to see what would happen if you left it loose all the time. There might be traffic accidents.”

Ed’s breath stopped. The voice. Definitely. Please don’t let him know. He leaned back against Roy, looking once again at the ceiling. “Could be useful some time.”

He could feel Roy’s answering laugh as well as hear it. And then Roy’s mouth was warm on his neck, and he closed his eyes and released a low sigh. Roy’s fingers traced over Ed’s chest, outlining the muscles.

“Mm. You’re right,” Roy murmured against his throat.

“About… what…?”

“You’re not nearly willowy enough to be a proper uke.”

Ed started to sit bolt upright, and then halted deciding he’d been complimented. “Damn right.”

Roy’s hand slid down, brushing back and forth just above Ed’s waist. Ed chewed on his lip for a moment and then made a deliberate effort to relax into Roy’s arms.

“Ah. Good,” came the whisper in his ear.

Roy’s touch lightened as it descended, until just his fingertips danced down between Ed’s legs.

“Ah… haahh…” Ed couldn’t quite catch his breath. The feather touch brushed over and over him. “Not miscast,” Ed husked, “type-cast… sadistic… tease…”

“Pleasure takes time, Edward.”

The fingers started drawing circles and Ed lost what breath he had caught.

Two fingers slipped up the line of his zipper and paused.

“May I?”

Without the air for words, Ed nodded.

Roy’s touch became, briefly, more businesslike. Ed’s boots caused a sufficient delay for Ed to regather his thoughts. When he had done so he found that Roy, true to their unspoken agreement earlier, had removed his own remaining clothes. For a moment he simply looked.

Roy’s body glowed where the light fell, like an ink drawing on porcelain. He moved, not like his favored fire, but like water, long currents of muscle under the smoothness of his skin.

“So,” Roy’s voice drew Ed’s eyes back to his, which glinted, “am I worthy of my lover’s beauty?”

Ed was caught between the strong desire to stick out his tongue and the sneaking conviction that this would be an unwise challenge just at the moment. Instead he did something that worked a great deal better. He lifted a hand to Roy’s side…

…and tickled.

Roy collapsed with a very undignified yelp. Ed stared for one second and then, grinning in utter, evil delight, pounced on him. He even had the upper hand until Roy discovered that Ed’s toes were horribly ticklish. Before too long they were both laughing too hard to do anything very effective.

“If I let go of your arm, can we have a truce?” Roy panted.

“I suppose so. For now.”

They shared a smiling moment before Roy caught Ed against him and kissed him, no longer light and careful, now deep and heated. Ed wound his arms around Roy and returned it, feeling a little awkward but no longer hesitant.

Roy turned onto his back, carrying Ed over him, hands running down his arms, his back, his legs. Ed moved against him, restless, unable to be still under those stroking hands. He leaned down to rest his forehead on the cool sheets. A knee pressed between his legs, parting them. Fingers traced a tendon up his inner thigh, light and shivery.

“Roy,” he whispered.

Roy’s breath beside his ear hitched. He turned his head, seeking out Ed’s mouth for a fierce kiss. His fingers searched higher, and a new tension pulled Ed taut. He shivered and one hand closed, hard, on the sheets.

“Roy…”

“So.” Roy paused to trace Ed’s parted lips with his tongue. “I wonder if the alterations to my room include a larger bath? A large quantity of hot water would be helpful here.”

Ed’s senses were trying to tell him that something was odd. The cloth under his hand was definitely not silk and the air was suddenly full of… steam?

They both stopped.

“What is it this time?” Ed groaned, refusing to open his eyes.

“We appear to have relocated to a hot spring.”

Ed’s eyes popped open. They were, indeed, now lying on stone, in a nest of towels, beside a pool of steaming water.

“A hot spring? There aren’t any hot springs in this whole area! Where is this supposed to come from?!”

After a moment’s contemplation Roy offered, “Perhaps this is supposed to be a dream sequence now.”

Ed grabbed a towel, in lieu of a pillow, to pull over his head, but it just didn’t feel the same. He tossed it off again and propped himself up on Roy’s chest. “So? What use did you have for a lot of hot water, anyway?”

Roy smiled. “Let me up and I’ll show you.” He halted at the edge of the water, though. “Will this be any problem?” he brushed the metal of Ed’s arm.

“No. I paid for the best.” Ed regarded his hand, a crooked smile on his lips for the double edge of his statement. He started a bit when Roy lifted his chin.

“Yes,” Roy answered, very serious, “you did.”

Ed took a while finding an answer for that look. “Show me,” he said, at last, softly.

Roy led him into the water, which came up to Ed’s chest, and pulled Ed lightly against him. “The point of the hot water,” he murmured in Ed’s ear, “is to relax you.”

“Mmm.” Ed draped an arm over Roy’s shoulders. “Working so far.”

“Very good.”

Roy’s hands swept down Ed’s body, drawing rushes of water in their wake. Ed liked it; it almost tickled but not quite. He stretched into the feeling a little.

And then one of Roy’s hands touched him more firmly, sliding down his back, down, fingers pressing, parting him. Ed bit back a gasp. His hands closed hard on Roy’s shoulders. The heat that surrounded him softened his muscles but tension still sang through him like a drawn wire.

Roy’s touch never stilled, circling, sliding, as coaxing as his earlier kisses had been. As if Roy had heard Ed’s half-formed thought, his lips brushed lightly over Ed’s open mouth, drawing Ed’s breath back out in short bursts. Ed shivered, his body starting against Roy’s.

Finally, Roy’s fingers pressed Ed open, and his mouth came down hard, swallowing Ed’s inarticulate exclamation. Ed’s shivering came and went, the complete strangeness of that touch inside him alternating with flickers of something.

“Ah… haa… aaah…”

“Edward, relax.” Roy’s voice, deep and breathless, slid down Ed’s nerves like lightning grounding itself.

“Edward, my hawk, Ed…”

Heat unfurled inside Ed, spread through him until it overwhelmed the heat of the water around him. It fed the something until the flickers became a steady brightness in all of Ed’s senses. Roy’s touch and Roy’s voice met somewhere inside Ed and left him leaning heavily against Roy, panting, completely unstrung.

“Edward… let me…?”

Ed shuddered under the heat of that resonant whisper. He must know, floated through his mind. “Yes.”

A few steps brought them to the edge of the pool, and Ed leaned against it. He rested his forehead on the cool stone and ignored whatever Roy was doing to make clattering noises.

“…ah. Thought it must be here somewhere.”

Ed ignored that, too.

Roy’s hands covered his shoulders. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Roy laid a kiss on the back of Ed’s neck. “Thank you.”

Always knows just what to say…completely unfair. The mildly disgruntled thought didn’t stop Ed from sighing as Roy nibbled his ear.

Ed leaned more heavily on the edge as Roy pressed his legs apart. The water swirled around him, and the feeling of Roy standing so close behind him quickened his breath. Roy moved still closer, and his cock was pressed against Ed, somehow softer than his fingers had been. Pressing, hard, so slow, the slowness of it strangled Ed’s moan.

Harder.

Ed started as Roy’s fingers dug deeply into his lower back. His muscles spasmed, released…

So slow.

Ed moaned again, lower, deeper, overwhelmed by the slide of Roy inside him, not stopping, sustained like a violinist might sustain a single note.

“Ed…” A breath, rough and tense. One of Roy’s hands had come up to clench on the edge. Ed felt the other close around him, tight, knowing, stroking. Roy shifted within him.

“Aahhh!”

Pleasure burned up through Ed, he lost track of anything but Roy moving, inside him, around him, Roy’s voice wrapped like fire around him, Roy’s touch sliding, burning, tighter, wound tighter. He moved, hard, into Roy, with Roy, seeking the breaking point until it found him and everything snapped.

When he came down, he found himself still in the water, vaguely surprised they hadn’t boiled the pool dry.

Roy was leaning against his back, which pressed the edge of the pool into Ed’s chest. Ed mumbled something that was supposed to be a protest, though it didn’t sound much like one in his own ears. The sense must have gotten though, because Roy slowly pushed himself back up.

Ed shivered at the brief slide as Roy withdrew.

“I suppose,” Roy’s voice was lazy, “that we should get out of the water before we’re parboiled.”

“Mm.” Ed hauled himself over the edge and promptly collapsed on the towels. His legs felt like jelly. He consoled himself that Roy didn’t seem to be doing a great deal better. “No pillows,” Ed complained. “Come’ere.”

He flopped down on Roy’s shoulder and ignored it when his impromptu pillow shook with laughter.

“I was right. You make a very interesting lover, my hawk.”

Ed pried an eye open. “Your what?”

Silence for a moment while Roy ran a hand through Ed’s hair.

“Do you know anything about falconry, Edward?”

Ed levered himself up the better to deliver his best Excuse Me? look. Mustang wore a rather odd little smile.

“It’s a fascinating study. You should look into it some time.”

Ed contemplated him for a few seconds before lying back down. “You’re not just a pervert, you’re a weird pervert.”

“A pervert?” Roy didn’t even have the grace to sound concerned.

“You just had sex with someone only a little more than half your age.”

“And enjoyed it immensely,” Roy agreed, quite serene.

“See?”

“And does this worry you?”

Ed snorted. “I have better things to worry about,” he declared.

“Such as?”

“Where are our clothes?”

Epilogue

“…ah, yes, and the municipal guard of West City seems to want a word with you, Fullmetal.”

Ed stopped craning his head around, having watched Havoc close the office door behind him.

“Never mind that,” he snapped. “What the hell happened? We haven’t been transferred again, I checked, but the script has reverted.”

“Mm.” Mustang steepled his hands thoughtfully. “From what I can find out, our… interlude… was the work of one particular writer on the new team. They seem to value the incongruity of her chapters.”

“Wonderful,” emerged rather muffled, as Ed scrubbed a hand over his face. “You mean it’ll happen again?”

“Possibly. Do you object?”

Ed looked aside. “Could be worse.”

Mustang’s mouth curved, but his eyes didn’t smile at all.

“That will do for now.”

End


Branch: Well, that’s the Nervous Virgin story out of the way.

Ed: *Glare of Death, flexes right hand*

Branch: *squints at story* Ok, Ed that was pretty good, but what’s up with you Roy? That was way more baroque than usual toward the end.

Roy: *examines nails* You gave me four years lead time to develop how I look at Edward-kun. During which, may I also point out, you failed to promote me.

Branch: Hey! Seven years in grade is perfectly average for an officer!

Roy: *cool look* Are you calling me average?

Branch: Oh, there’s just no talking to you!

Ed: *mutters* I could have told you that.

Branch: Fine. Fine! The story premise is skewed to begin with, you might as well keep on.

Ed: So, do I ever get to find out what the rest of his reasons are?

Branch: *thoughtful* Could. Maybe. We’d have to carry on the story line.

Roy: *smiles*

Ed: *glares* Hm. *taps toe, chews nail* Maybe. I guess. When I’m in the mood. *folds arms and turns back on Roy*

Roy: *smirks*

Branch: *holds head* What did I do to deserve you two?

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 09, 04
Name (optional):
Liana, sexkitten426, moon01234 and 13 other readers sent Plaudits.

This Time

And after the first time, what happens next? Porn With Insights, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

This time Roy had to track Edward down to his own rooms. He knocked politely on Edward’s door and heard a growl that might have been an invitation to enter, supposing the occupant were a bear disturbed during hibernation. He shrugged and pushed the door open. Edward was sprawled over his bed, staring fixedly at the ceiling.

“You got the notice this time, Edward-kun?” Roy inquired.

A curled lip.

“And, so?”

“And so what?” Edward shot back, toneless.

Roy easily recognized someone being difficult just because he could.

“So,” Roy sauntered to the bedside and held out a hand, “would you care for a more private location?”

Ed turned expressionless eyes on him. “Al’s gone to visit that mutt of Hawkeye-taii’s. This author covers her bases pretty well.”

“Convenient,” Roy allowed.

No response.

Roy sighed. “I see several possibilities here, Edward-kun. One is that you’ve decided to refuse this script, but I have difficulty imagining that you would hesitate or linger over that decision. Another is that you wish to provoke me into inventive measures to gain your compliance, but somehow I don’t think you’ve become quite that enthusiastic. I am led to conclude that you simply wish to provoke me, period. If I admit that you have succeeded, may we continue in a more relaxed fashion?”

Edward’s cool expression slipped into a wicked grin. “Ah. I feel better about the world, now. So, yes, I guess we can.” He stretched, catlike right down to the smug look.

Roy leaned down, swiftly, caught Edward’s chin and kissed him. After a startled pause the lips under his relaxed, softened, parted.

“Taisa…” Edward sighed as they drew apart.

Somehow Roy was positive they would always begin there, with his rank. He hoped to coax his name out of Edward a bit more quickly this time, though.

Edward tilted his head, considering him. “You aren’t wearing your uniform.”

“Far too much trouble for situations like this,” Roy told him, airily.

“Hm. Never heard that it gave you that much trouble.” Edward’s tone was dry. Roy ran a finger down his jaw.

“You give me enough trouble in any case that I’ll dispense with all the rest that I can.”

Edward looked up at him through half-closed eyes. Roy was almost sure that Edward had no idea how sultry his own expression was, and he was glad for it. Edward would discover it quickly enough, now that he had a lover to observe, and Roy found himself caught between amusement and trepidation every time he thought of an Edward Elric who understood the power of his own looks.

At this particular moment, though, he wanted simply to enjoy his partner’s sensuality, unconscious as it might be. At least, he thought, Edward seemed considerably more relaxed this time.

Roy’s mouth curled up.

Let’s test it.

He toed off his boots and moved all the way onto the bed, kneeling over Edward’s hips. Edward’s eyes flickered, but, as Roy drew off his shirt, a spark lit them and he stretched again, challenge in the lift of his chin.

Roy couldn’t help but laugh, and he leaned over Edward to let the room’s shadows hide the heat in his eyes. “Yes, my hawk, you’ll be dangerous,” he murmured.

Edward’s lashes shivered, and fell as Roy slid his hands up Edward’s chest. Roy brushed a kiss over each closed eye.

“Mmm.”

Roy was pleased to feel Edward’s fingers, a bit hesitantly, seek the buttons of his shirt. Roy shrugged out of it.

But when he would have returned to Edward, Edward caught his hands.

“Roy…”

Roy half expected to see nervousness in Edward’s eyes, but what he found was appeal. Edward reached out one hand and ran it, slowly, down Roy’s chest. Edward’s voice was soft and low.

“… I want… to touch you…”

Roy looked down, considering. It’s only fair, he decided. “If you like.”

He stretched himself out on the bed and offered Edward a lazy, inviting smile. Edward, still hesitant, leaned up on one hand beside him, laid the other on his stomach. Roy suppressed a shiver as those fingers traced over his skin.

Edward set out to explore, touching lightly, following the lines of Roy’s muscle and bone. When he reached Roy’s neck Roy tipped his head back and sighed.

The touches halted.

Roy looked up at Edward to find him staring back, wide-eyed. “Ah. Does it stir something in you, Edward? To know that you affect me?”

Edward didn’t answer, only ran a finger back along the line from Roy’s ear to his collarbone.

“Hmmm.”

Edward’s touch skipped downward, halting at Roy’s waist. Roy closed his eyes.

“You needn’t stop.” He was curious how Edward would choose to take that.

Slowly, Edward unfastened buttons and zipper. Ah. Roy shifted, and felt Edward slip his pants off, almost managing not to touch Roy in the process. After a long pause Edward continued to Roy’s underclothes. Roy was vastly amused that it seemed to take Edward longer to decide to get rid of the socks than the underwear. He stifled his grin.

Roy didn’t open his eyes until he felt Edward’s hands on his leg. Edward sat on his knees by Roy’s feet, having apparently decided to work his way up. His palm and fingertips passed over, around Roy’s feet, ankles, knees. Roy’s muscles were turning to warm water, and Ed’s fingers rippled cool currents through them. Roy spread his legs apart so that Edward could move between them.

It was alien to Roy to let go his self-control before he was overwhelmed, but Edward was well on his way to that already and Roy wanted to return the favor a little. As Edward’s thumb traced up his inner thigh Roy moaned low in his throat.

Edward’s breath caught.

Ah, yes.

“Edward,” Roy breathed.

As Ed’s hand closed on his thigh Roy pressed into the touch, opening his legs further. Roy watched Ed through his eyelashes, seeing his breath come faster through parted lips, the gold eyes hazed.

Edward turned to look at him, and Roy saw a spark glint through the haze. Edward’s hand passed up his leg to surround his cock, very, very lightly. Roy’s eyes closed and he gasped, lost his breath as Ed stroked him with a fingertip.

“Ed…!”

Edward spoke, low and husky, lilting a bit as he repeated Roy’s words. “Does it stir something? To know I affect you? Yes. Your voice does more to me than your hands. So, tell me…” his voice fell further, “…what does it do to you to hear me like this?”

Roy seized Ed’s wrists, pulled Ed down against him, and then under him, kissed him hard. “Evil creature,” he laughed in Ed’s ear. “You learn very quickly for someone with his first lover.”

“Just because I’d never had sex,” Ed panted, “doesn’t mean I didn’t have eyes and ears. Doesn’t take much to know you like to tease. Especially me,” he finished a bit sharply.

“Is it teasing that I enjoy your pleasure and want to increase it?” Roy asked, as if injured.

Ed’s expression sharpened to a knife edge. “Yes.”

“All right, all right,” Roy agreed, waving a pacifying hand, “we both know what we’re doing then, yes?”

Edward looked like he was examining the question for traps. Roy decided to be generous.

“I like teasing you.” He sucked lightly on Edward’s earlobe. “And, to judge by your recent performance, you like teasing back.”

Ed moaned softly.

Roy let his voice drop. “And to hear you like this makes me desire a great many things.”

Ed’s moan was no longer soft.

“Now, Edward-kun,” Roy whispered, “you’re wearing too many clothes.”

Those dispensed with, however, Edward reached out and drew Roy down to lie over him, holding his hands tightly. Roy felt tension all through the body under his and, looking down, found uncertainty had entered Edward’s eyes and the line of his mouth.

A bit too far and a bit too fast, Roy thought, with a twinge of repentance. He gathered Edward close and simply held him for a moment, pressed a soothing kiss to his forehead.

“Do you want to continue, Edward?”

Edward stilled, made a slight, surprised noise, and Roy shook his head. “Contrary to your previous accusation, I am not, in fact, a sadist.”

Edward hmphed faintly.

“I take no enjoyment from it if you’re in discomfort or pain,” Roy told him a bit sternly. “In either your body or your mind.”

The tension relaxed. The flash of panic had retreated, replaced with a faint blush as Edward regained his composure. Roy wanted to make sure of his recovery, though. “Do you wish to continue?”

“…yes.”

“Then,” Roy murmured, letting his voice soften, deepen, “would you rather I drew it out? Kept you on the edge of pleasure the whole night? Or are you impatient for me to finish you quickly now?”

A sharp shiver ran through Edward, and he pressed up against Roy. Roy smiled against his hair.

“Finish it.”

A low, hungry sound rose in Roy’s throat, and he let it. He traced the curves of Ed’s ear with his tongue for distraction as he fished over the side of the bed for his pants. More precisely, what he’d tucked into the pocket before tracking Edward down. It was a mild feat of dexterity to twist the cap off one-handed, but that’s what talent was for.

Now, then.

He pulled Edward over him and stroked down his spine, sliding his hand between Ed’s cheeks, pressing into him. Ed shuddered against him, leaned down to kiss Roy hard, open mouthed. His body tightened, relaxed. There.

“Sit back a bit,” Roy asked.

After a moment Ed did, resting both hands on Roy’s chest. Roy sighed at the coolness of the metal hand against his skin. His mouth quirked as Ed’s eyes widened at feeling Roy’s cock pressing behind him.

“Now.” Roy pushed forward, biting his lip at the electric feeling of moving against the soft resistance of Ed’s body. Ed’s breath caught, stopped.

“… Edward… breathe…” Roy managed.

Ed’s abrupt relaxation took Roy by surprise and he gasped at the sudden heat closed so tightly around him. Roy focused, shifted on the bed, searching for the right angle to share this fire.

He knew he’d found it when Ed threw back his head, wordless, pressing back into him.

Roy moved, slow and hard in the grip of Ed’s body, nerves scorched by the heat of it. One hand found Ed’s, clasped tight with it, each pressing against the other’s palm for steadiness. He ran his other hand up Ed’s taut thigh, between his legs, and Ed’s breathless sounds wound around him, clenched tighter, driving him beyond himself. His body strained like a drawn bow, tighter, further…

Released.

Roy drew Ed down before he collapsed, held him, waited for the light-headedness from breathing so deeply to pass.

When Ed stirred against him, stretched, and twitched a bit, Roy fished back through his pockets for the other small bottle he’d stowed away, congratulating himself on his foresight.

“Take a few of these, and lie still until they take effect,” he directed.

Edward’s expression was priceless.

“I did mention not being a sadist.”

Ed glared, tossed down three pills and buried his head in the pillows with a mutter that Roy only caught part of.

“…completely unfair…”

Roy charitably refrained from laughing. He lounged beside Edward, rubbing his back until he relaxed into a doze. Roy dropped a kiss on the back of Edward’s neck.

“Until next time,” he said quietly.

End


Branch: *leans wearily on keyboard* Can’t you two ever have straightforward sex without all the psychology?

Ed: *gives her the evil eye* Can’t you ever write it?

Roy: Be honest, Madam, have you ever written any sex scene that lacked background?

Branch: I suppose you have a point.

Ed: Though there is

Branch: *warily* There is what?

Roy: Weren’t we going to wait on that?

Ed: Could make a nice change of pace. *leans on suddenly materialized wall, crosses ankles* Keep me from getting bored.

Roy: Indeed. *meaningful look at Author*

Branch: Right, right. ‘Lemme go get a drink and I’ll be right with you.

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 10, 04
Name (optional):
Liana, sexkitten426, Tempest and 4 other readers sent Plaudits.

Gyre

Ed gets answers and questions about Roy’s motives. Drama, I-3.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang

Do you know anything about falconry, Edward?…It’s a fascinating study. You should look into it some time.


Edward Elric spent a good deal of his time in libraries, and when his research was going well he rather liked them. Libraries were quiet places where the information you were looking for held still and waited for you to come get it.

Of course, when research was not going well, that became a source of frustration.

Ed slammed another book shut.

“I don’t care what they’re called when they’re two years old, I don’t care how you have to feed a fledgling, and I certainly don’t care how they mate!”

He had not intended to rise to Mustang’s bait about the falconry. But the man had taken so consistently to calling him “hawk” during the increasingly disjointed interludes when That Author got hold of the storyline that Ed had finally broken down. The Colonel was obviously making some point and Ed wanted to know what it was.

So far he had found five books talking about nothing but passagers and seeling and jesses and casting, complete with line drawings, and he was about to give it up as a bad job. Or, possibly, a bad joke. If there was a point in all this, he wasn’t seeing it.

After all, the Nothing Kinky rule was still in effect.

Ed eyed the remaining three book he had pulled off the shelves on his sweep through the library. One more try, and then he was going to go get some food.

“Eenie, meenie, miny, moe,” he mumbled to himself. His finger stopped on the middle book, and he pulled it out and opened it with a sigh.

At least it was short.

Half an hour later Al found him, sitting in a pool of lamplight staring at the cover of a closed book as if it were some new transmutation circle and Ed wasn’t sure what it would do.

“Nii-san? Dinner is almost gone at the canteen. Were you coming?”

Ed started at his brother’s gentle reminder and called up a smile for him. “Yeah, I was just about to leave. Let me put these back.”

Snatches of that last book echoed through Ed’s mind as they crossed the courtyard.

This is not a hobby to be taken on lightly, nor is it one that can be put in a closet on a rainy day, or if the falconer doesn’t feel well that day. For the most part, birds of prey are not capable of “affection” for their handler, and the best one can expect is tolerance and acceptance. Falconers speak of “serving” their bird, and that is very much the case, for this is a partnership in which the bird has the upper hand, and can choose at any time to dissolve the relationship and fly away.

How was he a hawk? A statement on the amount of work Ed’s excursions made for the Colonel? That seemed too simple, though. Backhanded flattery? That would be more in Mustang’s line. But he had to know Ed wouldn’t actually leave. Not while he still needed the edge this position gave him in his search for a way to retrieve Al’s and his bodies.

Another passage returned to him.

The falconer must do all of his training himself. Unless, of course, he happens to be so wealthy that like the nobility of old, he can employ a falconer to man “his” birds—though in that case, they will never be “his”, for they will truly answer only to the hand that trained them.

Ed stopped dead in the middle of the court, staring up at the one office window still lit.

“Nii-san?”

Ed’s gaze didn’t budge. “Al, I need to talk to Mustang-taisa about something. I’ll be right along.”

He turned to find Al looking down at him with an expression more knowing and more patient than a metal helmet should have been capable of.

“All right. Remember to eat something, OK?”

Ed patted Al’s arm. “I will.”


Roy Mustang liked to work late in the evenings. It was a good time to do paperwork, as he could have some assurance that no one would bring him any more for a little while. Only some sort of emergency generated paperwork this late.

Thus, when a knock sounded at his door, Roy expected it to be Hawkeye, or possibly a courier, with news of an uprising or a car accident that had killed some General.

Well, it’s always possible, he thought wistfully.

“Come.”

Roy was understandably surprised when the door opened to show Edward leaning on the frame. “Edward-kun. Finished with your research project?”

The reminder that Roy always managed to know what Edward was doing barely got a half-hearted glare. Roy was intrigued.

“We’re off-script right now, right?”

Roy sat back a bit. “Yes.”

Edward started to say something, checked, and wandered a bit aimlessly around the couch. Roy was now absolutely fascinated. Edward stared blankly out the window for a moment before his mouth firmed. “Taisa. What is it you want to do?”

Roy had been expecting some form of this question for years. Edward was hardly blind, and he’d surely seen enough ulterior motives to recognize them. He regretted, for an instant, that he couldn’t tell this brilliant young man everything… but no.

“I want to do the same thing every man wants to do, Edward-kun. I want to make the world something other than what it is.”

Edward’s eyes turned to him, sharp now, and for a moment Roy thought he might push for more. But Edward settled, straightening and turning back to the window. “All right, then. Tell me something else. Why now?”

Roy quirked an eyebrow.

Edward swung away from the window and stalked back through the room. “If it’s been enough, for this long, just to watch me fly, if it’s been enough that I strike something you approve of, whatever that is, and come back, why take me to bed now?”

Roy smiled slowly.

He rose to join Edward where he’d fetched up, by the bookshelf. Ed stood firm, looking up at him, focused, demanding.

“My golden hawk. Your soul is brighter than your eyes,” Roy murmured on a breath of whimsy.

Edward’s look evolved into a full-fledged glare, and he drew in a deep, incensed breath. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

Roy laid his hands on Edward’s shoulders. “Edward, listen to me.”

Edward paused, narrow-eyed.

“One can be brilliant, one can have the purity of purpose that cuts like a sword edge, one can have power and genius and Fate’s undivided attention and still be dark. But you are not. You are not.”

Edward stood very still, emotions flashing through his eyes like colors in a kaleidoscope. Confusion, embarrassment, question, startlement. Roy didn’t think he would ever tire of watching the clarity and depth of feelings as they showed in Edward’s eyes. To anyone who knew him, he was utterly transparent. And that was why Roy couldn’t say more. Edward you’re too clear, too bright. If I fail, that’s what will keep you alive. But only if you don’t know. Forgive my silence and let me borrow your brightness a little longer.

Edward lifted a hand, hesitated, laid it lightly on Mustang’s wrist.

Then he pulled away and turned his back. “You and your damn games. Can’t you ever give a straight answer to anything?” he huffed.

“But Edward-kun,” Roy murmured, “then the game would be over.”

Edward snorted.

“And, after all, don’t I fly you well?”

Edward’s spine straightened with a snap. “I am going to dinner. Al will start worrying if I waste any more time here with you,” he announced icily, and marched out the door.

When he was gone Roy spoke to the empty air.

“Good night, Edward.”

End


Ed: *steams* That’s what you call getting more answers?

Branch: Hey, I just do the general outline, you guys are the ones who fill it in.

Ed: *transfers glare to Roy*

Roy: What do you want, Edward-kun, a story or an essay?

Branch: Make yourselves useful, guys, quit arguing and do the credits.

Roy: *urbanely* To be sure. Dear readers, the passages about falconry were quoted from the afterwords of Mercedes Lackey’s novels, Winds of Fate and Winds of Change respectively. We, the characters and author, tender all our gratitude and respect to her.

Branch and Ed, in unison: And quit making fun!

Roy: *faint smile*

Last Modified: Oct 09, 07
Posted: Jan 10, 04
Name (optional):
yavie, Liana, sexkitten426, moon01234 and 6 other readers sent Plaudits.

Rough

Something about those gloves… Porn Without Plot, mildly kinky, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Stepping into the Colonel’s office after Hawkeye for what promised to be an acrimonious report on his latest assignment, Ed stumbled sharply over a discontinuity.

Hawkeye stopped dead.

“Taisa, excuse me, I forgot one of the reports you asked for. I’ll go find it.” She saluted and strode briskly out again.

Ed rubbed his forehead. “Oh, don’t tell me, let me guess,” he groaned. “That Author just took over the story.”

“It certainly appears so. Perhaps she’s filling in for one of the others.” Mustang tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, without much notice I suppose we’ll just have to improvise.”

“Improvise?” Ed did his level best to hang icicles on his voice.

It did not have an appreciable effect, as Mustang relieved him of his coat and hung it up neatly before winding an arm around Ed’s waist. Mustang smiled down at him.

“A specialty of yours, Edward-kun, isn’t it?”

“As if I’m the only whee…!” Ed squeaked before he could stop himself, as Mustang’s hand slid past the waist of his pants.

Ed made a distinct note to buckle his belt a notch tighter in the future.

And then Mustang’s fingers parted him, gently. His still gloved fingers.

The roughness of that glove material snatched Ed’s attention, focused it all on the sensation at that one point. “Ah… hhhaa… Roy…!”

Roy’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm.” He rubbed a single finger across that sensitive skin, and Ed started hard against him. He saw a very pleased smile curve Roy’s mouth before his other hand lifted Ed’s chin.

Roy kissed him deeply, pressing Ed’s mouth open, as he also pressed that one finger almost into Ed, curling it up before drawing back.

Ed grabbed for Roy’s shoulders as his knees nearly gave.

Roy didn’t stop, his touch circling lightly.

Ed rested his head on Roy’s shoulder, trying to gather his senses. But they were all concentrated elsewhere. That rough texture made the lightest touch terribly present, and roused every nerve like a spark that kept flaring. Shudders seized Ed in waves.

Roy’s touch became firmer, and heat surged through Ed.

“Roy…”

“Yes?” Roy’s voice was low, controlled, but as heated as Ed felt.

“I… Roy, I…” Ed could not find the words to say what he wanted. Fortunately, Roy didn’t seem to need them.

“You want more than this, Edward?”

“Yes…”

Roy’s eyes burned. “Now? Here?”

Did he?

“…yes.”

Roy kissed him again, stealing his breath, and pressed that rough fingertip into him.

Ed cried out into Roy’s mouth, and he was fixed, pinned against Roy’s body by that one touch. And then Roy released him, and breathed one word in his ear.

“Good.”

It pleased Ed, distantly, that Roy sounded quite heartfelt about that. He was equally pleased that Roy seemed to have no trouble undoing all the buckles and so forth in question, because Ed wasn’t at all sure he could remember how to operate a zipper just then.

Roy brought them to his desk, and Ed leaned his elbows onto it, trying to catch his breath as Roy rummaged in one of the drawers.

“…know I put some in here,” Roy muttered under his breath.

Ed couldn’t stop a shaky laugh. “Right now, I don’t think I’d care.”

Roy turned a heavy look on him. “You tempt me, Edward,” he purred, “but I think you would probably care later. Another time, perhaps.”

Ed swallowed, and then that shocking, overwhelming touch returned and his thoughts scattered again. Roy slid Ed’s legs apart, pulled down the interfering clothing, and Ed groped after a word for how he felt at that moment… the words were gone.

The rough glove teased him open, and then he felt Roy driving into him, smoother, harder, refining the fire, a stronger shock but with a rhythm this time, and Ed pushed back into the rough movement, adding more and more force until it drove him over the edge and the fire burned out of him.

Ed was fuzzily aware of Roy cleaning them up and refastening clothing, but his head didn’t really clear until Roy pulled him down so they both sprawled on the couch.

As Ed’s thoughts reordered themselves a picture flashed into his mind, of how he must have looked, spread out and bent over Roy’s desk, only the most necessary clothes undone. He could feel his face heating. And, because he tried to be honest with himself, he had to admit that the picture included him enjoying it a very great deal. The word he had been looking for earlier, it occurred to him, was wanton.

Roy’s hand turned Ed’s face toward him. “Regrets, Edward?” he asked, softly.

“Mm. Not exactly,” Ed hedged.

“That’s good. I don’t believe I could thank you for something you regretted.”

Ed, despite his best efforts, could feel himself blushing even more. He looked away. “…you too,” he mumbled.

Roy kissed him gently, and then smiled with a very satisfied edge. “Any time.”

“Smug bastard,” Ed pronounced, feeling his balance return.

Roy’s smile took on the hint of a secret.

End


Branch: *hides head in arms* I can’t believe you did that! I can’t believe I wrote that!

Roy: *one-sided smile* Weren’t you the one complaining about us never having straightforward sex?

Branch: Yes, but…!

Ed: *jaundiced* It’s no more lurid than some of what Seto is doing with his entire cast.

Branch: Well, no, but…!

Roy: *pats Author’s shoulder* Come find us again when you’re done blushing, my dear. Come along, Edward.

Ed and Roy: *saunter off*

Branch: *blushes extensively*

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 12, 04
Name (optional):
Liana, sexkitten426, moon01234, daxion and 11 other readers sent Plaudits.

Under Cover

For the Put Ed In A Dress challenge. Secret missions, entertaining disguises, pissed off Alchemists. Humor, I-2, no spoilers.

“The problem is that they expect you. And I would prefer you didn’t destroy half the city getting in.”

Ed paced down the hall next to the Colonel, Hawkeye bringing up the rear.

“If they have proscribed alchemical equipment in there, why can’t you just search?” Ed grumbled. “Why do I have to go?”

“Ah? You would prefer not to be involved? Giving up your search, then, Hagane?”

Ed fumed at the reminder that he did have an interest in the slightest hint of equipment that could produce an alchemical reaction without equivalent exchange.

“And the point is that we’re not sure yet just what Dalzet does have,” Mustang continued. “We need someone to check. Quietly. I’ve secured the services of… a professional… to help with that.” He unlocked a door and opened it to reveal a woman seated at a table inside.

Wheat blond hair. Sea blue eyes. A soft, warm smile when she looked up.

Ed’s jaw was hanging open and he couldn’t quite manage to shut it.

“Psiren…?!”

“Clara, please. I’m glad to meet you again. Edward-kun, I believe?” The rich, throaty voice was certainly hers. Ed returned her friendly nod, a bit stunned.

“We captured her some time ago, actually,” Mustang told him, leaning in the doorway.

“How did you keep her?” Ed wanted to know.

“I sent Hawkeye.”

Ed had to admit, that would probably do it.

The two women responded, each in her own way, Hawkeye with a sharp smile, Clara with a philosophical shrug.

“This is parole for her,” Mustang continued. “She knows a good deal about disguise and concealment, and has agreed to help us.”

“Well,” Clara rose from the table, “it’s difficult for me to refuse anything when a man such as yourself asks it. Mustang-taisa.”

Mustang’s eyes lit.

“It would have been a great shame for a woman such as yourself to remain confined,” he returned, coming away from the door.

Clara laughed and leaned against the table, shoulders back, chin up.

Ed’s mouth was hanging open again. He pulled in a deep, incensed breath.

Hawkeye stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. When Ed looked around she put a finger over her lips. He took a second look at Mustang and Clara, and his mouth twisted sardonically. He leaned against the wall next to Hawkeye and watched while Clara cooed and posed in a manner almost guaranteed to shut down any male brain.

If any two people really deserved each other, Ed thought it was probably these two. Clara was in fine form, directing a smoldering look up through her lashes.

“But of course I would keep my parole… for you,” she whispered, running a finger down Mustang’s chest.

Mustang caught her hand up, kissed it…

…and stepped back.

“Entertaining as it would be to continue,” he smiled coolly, “work calls.”

Clara stilled, arrested in mid-reach. Her eyes widened. Hawkeye’s smile also widened a notch.

“Hawkeye-chuui will stay to keep an eye on things, Hagane,” Mustang said, closing the door behind him. Silence reigned in the room for a moment.

“A formidable man, your commander,” Clara observed, tone suddenly clinical.

“Yes,” Hawkeye agreed.

“Nah. He just likes being evil that way. It’s his idea of fun.” Ed pushed away from the wall. Clara looked at him sideways.

“Indeed?” and then more briskly, “well, let’s get down to business.”

Ed took the seat farthest from her.

“I understand the problem is to get you past people who know who you are and that you may well be coming?”

Ed nodded, glumly.

“Well, to be honest, the most effective thing would be…”


From the room behind him Mustang heard an outraged screech echo.

An evil smile curved his lips, as he sauntered on down the hall.


“You want me,” pregnant pause, “to dress up,” smoking pause, “as a WOMAN?!”

Ed stood at bay, breathing heavily.

“Don’t be childish Edward-kun,” Clara admonished, sternly. “You’ve traveled too widely, too many people know what you look like, and the one thing you cannot effectively conceal is your eyes. If a man with gold eyes, no matter who he’s supposed to be and what kind of supporting evidence he has, shows up to this open house Dalzet’s guards will not hesitate. If he’s truly concealing proscribed equipment, they’ll shoot to kill.” She gave Ed a measuring look. “And while I can believe that you would survive that, it would not get you inside.”

After a few extremely uncomplimentary comments directed at the Colonel, Ed gave in.

“Good. Take off your shirt, then.”

Ed goggled at her.

“I need to see what your figure looks like to decide how best to disguise it, Edward-kun,” Clara chivvied.

Ed cast a look at Hawkeye, but she had her gaze fixed steadfastly out the window. And a hand over her mouth, but Ed did his best to ignore that. He pulled off his jacket and shirt, and attempted not to blush as Clara walked around him.

“Hmm,” she mused, tapping a fingertip against her lips, “your shoulders are too broad for something fully fitted. Perhaps on overdrape of some sort.” She advanced with a tape measure. “Hold still, now.”

In point of fact, Ed froze. For a while, at least.

“Hold still, Edward-kun, I need the hip measurements too.”

Hawkeye coughed a few times, not very convincingly.

“There. You can get dressed again.”

Ed had never dressed so fast in his life. He glared at Hawkeye, whose shoulders were shaking, and she lost it.

Admittedly, it was the first time Ed had ever heard her giggle.

Clara ignored them both, returning to the table and sketching quickly on a pad of paper, pausing every now and then to chew the end of the pencil. By the time she finished both Ed and Hawkeye had regained some measure of composure.

“How about something like this?” Clara held out the pad.

Ed looked. It was a high necked, fitted dress with a flared skirt. Fabric draped over the body from shoulder to waist. Loose sleeves were swagged to just past the elbow, over long gloves. There were no ruffles, lace or frills anywhere.

“All right. I guess. For a dress,” he muttered. “You’re absolutely sure this will work?”

“No question of it,” Clara declared with confidence. “If you manage to stop scowling that evening you’ll make a stunning woman. And if you don’t,” she paused, smiled, “you’ll make a stunning bad-tempered woman.”

Ed growled.

“Now, the last thing. How precisely can you re-configure your automail?”

Ed cocked his head. “Fairly. What are you thinking of?”

“Can you smooth the outlines?”

Ed narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Maybe. I’ll work on it and let you know.”

Two Weeks Later

Ed paused, pulling the bodice up, and poked at it suspiciously. “This,” he remarked very flatly, “is padded.”

“Drape or not, you need the proper silhouette,” Clara told him.

Ed grumbled, but finished pulling the dress on. The zipper was the next challenge, and after several gyrations trying to tug it up he had to let Hawkeye zip him.

“Good, it fits,” Clara said, satisfied. “Now, let’s do something about the hair.”

Ed suffered having his hair unbraided, brushed and drawn up in a twist at the back of his head.

“I feel like a complete idiot,” he informed Clara dourly.

“Nonsense, you look charming. Even with the scowl, just like I said you would. With a touch of makeup everything will be perfect.”

Ed paled. “…what?”

Clara set out an array of arcane boxes, tubes and cases, unassisted by Hawkeye who was leaning on the wall again trying to stifle her laughter.

“Makeup,” she told him without a hint of sympathy, “only a bit, don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” Ed’s voice spiraled up.

“A little color for your lips to start with.” Clara advanced, remorseless.

After a brief scuffle with his personal fashion Nemesis, which reduced Hawkeye to tears, Ed was trapped against the door and color duly applied.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Ed sputtered.

And then his attention was caught by a sound from the other side of the wall. A sound that greatly resembled someone laughing into their sleeve. Someone with a low voice.

Ed flung open the door to find Mustang leaning on the wall, eyes sparkling. He straightened and smiled winningly. “Why, Edward-chan, you look most charming.”

Mustang had to dodge smartly after that, and Ed’s fist made a hole in the wall.

“Edward-kun, do not tear that dress!”

He gave Clara a fulminating look.

“On the other hand,” she allowed, “with your color that high you hardly need any other cosmetics. It’s really quite striking.” She eyed the grinning Mustang thoughtfully. “You know. It would be no bad thing if Edward-kun were to have an escort. A pretty woman alone at these affairs is the center of attention. A pretty woman with an escort is the object of more distant appreciation, and could slip away more easily.” She ignored the choking noises coming from Ed. “Are you free this evening, Mustang-taisa?”

Mustang raised his eyebrows at her. “I follow your reasoning, but perhaps Hughes-chuusa would be a better choice? He is more accustomed to covert work of this sort.”

Clara shook her head slowly.

“Very few people actually know what you look like. You’re remarkably elusive for such a well-known figure. In addition, you value Edward a great deal and will care for his safety in a place where maintaining his disguise may leave him at a disadvantage. Besides,” she added, offhand, to Ed, “he thinks you’re attractive in that. It can only add veracity.”

Ed turned six shades of red in as many seconds, and his head snapped around to look at the expressionless Mustang. Mustang touched two fingers to his chest and bowed to Clara.

“It’s nothing to worry about Edward,” she finished, “I’m quite sure your trust in him is not misplaced.”

Ed retreated precipitately and slammed the door.

Mustang and Clara locked gazes.

“You are a dangerous woman,” Mustang said at last, softly, “to steal such truths. Not only from me but from him as well.”

Clara smiled a sad smile and shook her head. “No. Not him. Or, at least, I could never really use it to harm him. His heart is too pure for that.” Her smile turned sharp as she looked up. “So have a care, Mustang-taisa. I have no doubt that you are an accomplished hunter. But Edward captures people without ever trying to.”

Hawkeye stuck her head out the door.

“Clara, I could use some help here. Edward-kun is being difficult about the high heels.”

“Evening wear and less obtrusive gloves should do for you,” Clara told Mustang, moving back toward the dressing room. “Come back in about two hours.”

“Confident, isn’t she?” Mustang noted.

Hawkeye shrugged. “It’s worked so far. She even taught him to dance earlier this week.”

Very dangerous.”


Mustang handed Ed out of the rented car. Ed kicked at the wretched skirt to make it fall straight and tried not to think of how conspicuous he was. Clara had chosen beautiful material, brilliant cobalt figured with white and gold, but, while he could appreciate it in the abstract, it made Ed twitchy to be wearing something so eye catching.

Mustang’s hand on his waist wasn’t helping the twitchiness any.

“Is that really necessary,” he gritted out.

“I’m supposed to be your protective escort, preserving you from unwanted attentions,” Mustang murmured.

Part of Clara’s intention was working perfectly, as the high color in the cheeks of what appeared to be an elegant young woman drew admiring stares all down the entry hall.

Since Dalzet was throwing an open house to show off for his well-to-do friends and clients there were visitors wandering just about every hallway, but the general movement was toward the ballroom. Ed stiffened as Mustang guided them in that direction, though.

“It will be more reasonable for you to wander off after we establish our presence,” Mustang pointed out.

Ed fumed, but went along.

Mustang cast a measuring eye over the roomful of brilliant lights and equally brilliant clothing. Ed relaxed a bit, deciding that he would blend in reasonably after all.

He was almost right, nor was he really to blame that it escaped him that his dramatic coloring and confident bearing eclipsed nearly every woman in the room.

“Hm,” Mustang mused, “two dances, a drink, and another dance, and I think you’ll be able to slip away without anyone remarking on it. Adele.”

Mustang caught him adroitly as Ed tripped and nearly fell.

Ed knew that he was blushing, which only infuriated him more. “What?!” he hissed between clenched teeth.

“You don’t like the name? I can hardly call you Edward-kun here.” Mustang looked down with his most infuriating half-smile, eyes mocking.

“Fine. Fine, it’s fine! Now let go!”

“Of course.”

Ed collected himself, grateful that, for whatever reason, most of the stares directed at him seemed to have been withdrawn.

Mustang’s smile became satisfied.

A new dance was starting. “Come on, let’s get this over with,” Ed growled.

Ed’s twitchiness grew as Mustang held him closer to dance. It was just possible that the Colonel finally decided to have some uncharacteristic mercy, because the next thing he said was actually reasonably neutral.

“How did you manage to change the line of you right arm so much?”

Ed calmed a bit, focused on professional questions. “Some reconfiguration, some transmutation. It took a little experimenting.”

“I’m impressed with your dedication to this assignment.” Mustang spun them lightly.

“Try to dip me and I will find some way to make you regret it,” Ed promised with something that a person who couldn’t see his eyes might mistake for a smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of offering such an indignity to a lady.”

Ed reminded himself that he did not want to attract attention by, say, screaming with rage.

By the end of two dances he needed a drink very badly. It might, however, have been a mistake to finish it so quickly. For one, that just meant that Mustang drew him back onto the dance floor that much sooner. For another, it went to his head rather fast.

“For someone so capable of forethought and clever plans, you are very given to impulse, aren’t you?” Mustang seemed amused.

Ed, having to lean a bit more heavily into Mustang’s arms than he would have preferred, didn’t answer.

At last Mustang extracted them from the dancing at one of the stairways.

“Will you be all right, climbing stairs in those shoes, and in your current condition?” he wanted to know.

“I’ll be fine,” Ed declared, tight lipped, and set off with a stiff back. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs he kicked off the shoes.

“Not here. Nothing there. Can’t these people put this stuff in a reasonable place?” Ed tip-toed from room to room, muttering.

Finally, in one of the first floor sitting rooms, he found it.

“Arrays, materials, a ton of chalk…” He flipped through the notebooks sitting on the worktable. “Hm. Um-hm. Hm?” He paged more slowly. For a while he simply sat and looked at the notebook in his lap. Then he rose, crawled with some difficulty under the worktable and started tapping on the floor.

Something clicked.

“Got it!” Ed whispered, and pushed back a recessed opening in the floor. After taking a long look at what was underneath he closed it again, dusted himself off and strolled back to the ballroom.

It was of a piece with the whole night that he ran into a very drunk guest halfway there.

“Ah, the beautiful lady! And you’ve gotten rid of that possessive bastard, too, I see!”

Ed didn’t waste time wondering about the “possessive” part. “Bastard” was enough to tell him who the drunk meant. “Yyyyees, actually I was just going back to catch up with him…” Ed tried to sidle around the man, who leaned against the wall to block him. Or, possibly, to keep from falling down. The fumes on him were enough to make Ed a bit dizzy. He back-pedaled quickly as the man reached for his shoulder.

“No, no, you don’t want a cold bastard like him…”

A sharp shnick came from beyond the man, and he was wrapped in blue-edged flames. He collapsed with a hoarse cry, smoking.

Mustang was standing behind him.

“Cold?” he repeated, very soft.

“Thanks,” Ed managed, after a moment.

There was an odd glint in Mustang’s eye, but his voice was perfectly calm. “Trouble with your shoes?” he nodded toward the footgear in Ed’s hand.

“It was quieter with them off,” Ed mumbled, wedging the wretched things back on his feet. He accepted the arm Mustang offered him without thinking. Then he paused. “Wait a minute.” Ed turned over Mustang’s hand. There was no circle on the glove.

“It’s on the inside.”

Ed snorted. “And you said Hughes-san would be better at this undercover stuff.”

“He would not, at least, have left such a distinct calling card,” Mustang returned. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Ed was silent a moment. “I suppose.”

“Ah. Then let us go.”

Back in the moderate security of the car, Ed flopped over the seat wearily.

“So?”

“It’s a scam,” Ed told the Colonel dully. “The notebooks are all nonsense. There’s all sorts of stuff stored in the basement under the room where he does business, ready to be raised though the trap and slipped onto the table; probably makes some kind of flash to cover it. Lots of gold down there.”

Mustang looked out the window. “I thought that might be the case.”

“Then why did you get me to do this?” Ed snapped.

Mustang gave him a long look. “Can you really see Havoc in a dress?” he asked, seriously.

Ed blinked once. Twice. Pictured it.

Collapsed laughing.

He was still snickering when they got back to headquarters.

Mustang hauled him back to his office, where he, the rat, could get rid of his gloves and coat and tie, to draw out the location of what Ed had found before letting him go. About to make his escape, Ed considered logistics and paused.

On the one hand, he could head back to his rooms and get Al’s help getting out of the damn dress. But then Al would see him in the dress, something Ed had managed to avoid so far. On the other hand, he could ask Mustang for help now and simply have Al hand him his bathrobe through the door when he got back to their rooms. Mustang had, after all, already seen the worst.

“Taisa.”

“Hm?” Mustang looked up from the drawings.

“Can you unzip this thing for me?” Ed felt the tiniest bit revenged for the evening by the utterly blank look on Mustang’s face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I can’t do the zipper by myself. And, frankly, women are nuts to put up with this kind of thing all the time.”

The Colonel’s smile was a slight bit unnerving, though Ed couldn’t pin down why. “Of course, Edward-kun.”

Ed turned his back and let Mustang work the zipper down. Finally, he was almost free!

Mustang’s hands slid over his bare shoulders. Ed froze.

“Truly, you were very beautiful tonight, Edward-kun.”

One hand started to brush the dress off his left shoulder and Edward Elric saw red. Every frustration of the past two weeks and this crazed night came roaring up. He seized Mustang’s wrist, turned, heaved and threw the Colonel over his shoulder and into the floor with a deeply satisfying thump.

Head high, dress falling half off him, wobbling on high heels, Ed stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.


Mustang lay on his office floor, laughing breathlessly.

End

Last Modified: Apr 25, 12
Posted: Jan 13, 04
Name (optional):
Liana, ein, Ephemeral_Is_The_Light, Qem, DBZVelena, daxion, Alataya and 26 other readers sent Plaudits.

The Upper Hand

Roy muses about his personnel management techniques. Drama, I-2.

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Roy Mustang

“You didn’t mention that you already knew about the new disturbance down in Lior, Taisa,” Havoc observed.

Roy Mustang and his officers strode down the steps of their neighboring country’s embassy in East City.

“No, I didn’t,” Roy agreed, smiling.

Hawkeye sniffed.

“Of course not. You don’t gain the upper hand by giving things away, Havoc.”

Havoc grunted around his cigarette.

As the party sorted themselves into the two official cars that had brought them from headquarters, Roy contemplated Hawkeye’s words.

Normally, they were a truism. But there were times…

Edward Elric was a good example of the rule’s reverse. As he was for a good many rules, Roy reflected, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Their liaison was a source of amusement, as well as pleasure and comfort to him. And Roy had noted early on that one of the easiest ways to get the upper hand with Edward was to tell him the absolute truth.

It entertained Roy to no end that he could stop one of Edward’s tempers simply by thanking him.

To be sure, part of the effect was probably pure surprise, since Roy rarely dealt so straightforwardly with Edward outside of bed.

There was another level to that, of course, Roy mused watching the city sweep past. Edward placed an extremely high value on truth. Roy often thought that it might be a product of Edward’s power. Being so powerful, he had never been tempted to the petty stratagems that those without power resorted to, while also being in a position to see all too much of that pettiness at close range. Edward was the first person Roy had met of whom he might believe that the strength of his spirit was the measure of his power.

The exchange that Roy offered for such intimate knowledge of Edward was to speak the truth to him while they were together.

Which was not to say that the truth was always straightforward, or even that straightforwardness was always straightforward.

Roy smiled.

Edward was not the only example of the rule’s reverse, though, he thought, as the cars pulled back up to the military headquarters. The thought lingered, and as they began to part ways at the door of Roy’s office he spoke.

“Hawkeye-taii.”

His senior aide paused and looked back. “Sir?”

“Sometimes one does, in fact, gain an overwhelming advantage precisely by giving oneself away,” he said, slowly.

He waited while surprise, confusion and finally understanding chased each other across her face.

She drew herself up and offered him a salute worthy of the Central parade ground. Her response was low and intense.

“Yes, Taisa.”

Roy returned the salute, gravely.

End


Roy: Just for my curiosity, why did you promote Hawkeye but not me?

Branch: Because she rocks my world. She’s the kind of muse I can do target practice with.

Roy: *eyes Author thoughtfully* Fair enough.

Branch: *waves, starry-eyed* Hey, Lisa, want to go get a drink?

Lisa: Why not? We’re done for the day, right Taisa?

Branch and Lisa: *wander off, arm in arm*

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 13, 04
Name (optional):
yavie, Liana, moon01234 and 7 other readers sent Plaudits.

Enough

Ed in a temper, Roy feeling generous. Porn With Purple Insights, I-3.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Prelude

“Now, about young Elric.”

Roy tensed invisibly, as General Hakuro paged through one of the folders on the desk he’d taken over for his inspection of East City headquarters.

“Is the boy always this… volatile?”

“What do you mean, General?” Roy asked evenly.

“According to this he burned down the mansion of the Governor of Ketal during an altercation when the Governor’s guards found him trespassing.”

“After which,” Roy pointed out, “it was discovered that the Governor was using his mansion as a clearinghouse for an illegally developed alchemical substance.”

Which substance, Roy reflected, was of great interest to the man who had taken over Gran’s jurisdiction, however illegal the development process.

Hakuro eyed him. “Did you send him to do this?” he asked softly.

Roy was pleased to vent a perfectly honest laugh. “If I had, I very much doubt he would have arrived in the city any time this month.”

“Elric-kun does not take orders well?” Hakuro translated.

Roy pursed his lips judiciously. “Someone with a gift for understatement might put it that way,” he allowed.

“Hm. I see.”

Roy certainly hoped so.

Hakuro shuffled his papers together and put Edward’s folder at the bottom of the stack. Roy suppressed a sigh of relief.

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

Roy made his way back to his own office, counting down the days until Hakuro would be off their hands again. Perhaps catching up on his correspondence would relax him.

No sooner had Roy settled down at his desk, though, than a slip of paper puffed into existence above it and fluttered down on top of his other papers. Roy read it, and snorted.

“Well, that should put the cap on everyone’s day.”

Lude

Ed stalked into the Colonel’s office, slammed the door and flung himself down on the couch.

“That was quick,” Mustang remarked.

Ed threw an arm over his face. “That Author has the worst timing! I swear she does it on purpose!”

“Headache?” Mustang inquired, sweetly.

Ed snarled.

He heard Roy rise and come around the desk, felt the couch dip as Roy settled beside him, but didn’t look or move.

“Are you all right, Edward?”

“Just fine,” Ed muttered. “Taisa.”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Roy’s hand passed over Ed’s brow. Ed struck upward, with another snarl.

Roy caught it. Barely. “Edward, why are you here?”

Ed huffed.

“Just a bad mood, then?” Roy suggested.

Ed stared intently away from him.

“So. How is this, then. Just lie still.”

Ed slanted a sideways look. “Just that?”

Roy leaned over him, one arm on the back of the couch. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Ed had his suspicions about any offer Roy Mustang made that sounded like what he wanted. There had to be a catch. But he finally nodded grudging agreement.

Roy started tracing feather-light patterns across Ed’s forehead. After a moment’s struggle just for form’s sake Ed let his eyes drift closed.

Roy’s hands passed down his neck, over his shoulders, testing for tension and kneading it away. Ed pulled in deep breath and released it with a sigh. The soothing hands moved to his chest, and then his stomach. The muscles there quivered, and Ed gasped.

“Ssh,” Roy whispered to him, “relax, Ed. There’s nothing you need to do.”

“Mmmh.”

Gradually, under Roy’s careful hands, Ed’s entire body slackened. He lay back on the couch, almost floating except that gravity had such a very good hold on him.

Roy’s deep voice spoke by his ear, smooth as his touch. “Tell me if you want me to stop. But there’s something I want to show you, my hawk.”

Roy’s hands were undoing Ed’s pants. Ed considered protesting, the remnants of his bad temper stirring, but he was relaxed now and didn’t want to change that.

Roy’s hands were warm and gentle and the heat of Roy’s breath washed over his cock.

“Ahhh…”

Wet heat curled around him, closed over him like deep water. Ed felt entirely underwater, his movement slowed, even his reaction to Roy’s mouth on him languid. He sighed and stretched into it as Roy’s tongue burned paths up and down, slowly filling him with a heavy heat until it overflowed in long, deep waves.

Ed wallowed in a comfortable daze. He only roused from it when he realized that he was lying reclined against Roy’s chest.

“Mmm.”

“Feeling better?” There was a chuckle in Roy’s voice.

“Mm.”

Thought returned slowly. “What about you?” Ed asked.

“I’m fine.”

Ed blinked a few times. He turned in Roy’s arms to look up at him, puzzled. Roy returned one of his infuriating, unreadable, one-sided smiles, but was apparently inclined to take pity on all forms of Ed’s frustration today. Roy cradled Ed’s jaw in his hand.

“Perhaps you’ll understand later. My lover’s pleasure is enough for me, today. To see you so abandoned to pleasure that I brought you…” he kissed Ed, slowly, “…that’s enough.”

Ed gazed up at him, not knowing what expression might be on his own face.

“Why?”

Roy smiled and settled Ed more comfortably against him. “Rest. My hawk.”

As Ed closed his eyes again, he heard Roy whisper, laughing faintly.

“…my fractious, cross-grained gyrfalcon.”

End


Ed: Eh?

Roy: *winces* You weren’t supposed to hear that.

Branch: For our readers, the significance of the gyrfalcon is documented at this handy site. Ed, don’t look yet.

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 14, 04
Name (optional):
yavie, Liana, moon01234 and 4 other readers sent Plaudits.

Relaxed

In the National Library. Porn With Insights, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Ed didn’t particularly like the yearly requalifications. In point of fact, he considered them a monumental waste of his time. They did, however, mean time to visit the National Library every year. Spending a few days in the papery, sunlit quiet always relaxed him.

Well, mentally, anyway.

Ed leaned away from his stack of books, stretching his spine over the back of his chair in an attempt to pull out some of the knots.

“You’re going to injure yourself one of these days, hunched over like that.”

Ed looked around a little too quickly and winced as his neck seized up. “What are you doing in here, anyway?” he grumbled, rubbing at the cramp.

“Escaping from ceremonies. You’ll just make it worse like that.” Roy Mustang brushed Ed’s hand aside, pressed hard on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and twisted his hand sharply. Ed yelped.

“And that’s making it better?!”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Ed rotated his head gingerly.

“Of course…”

Ed blinked. Mustang had somehow insinuated himself between Ed and the desk, leaning easily on the latter. He reached down and swiftly pulled Ed up against him, straddling Mustang’s legs.

“…a gentle touch has equally useful applications.”

Ed was shocked. Roy never got like this in public. And now here they were in the National Library.

“Taisa! What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Everyone else is stuck at the ceremonies, if that’s what you’re worried about Edward-kun.” Roy’s hands started rubbing Ed’s back.

“That isn’t… the point… ohhh…” Ed’s protest trailed off. Roy’s hands were very strong, and found every knotted muscle, kneading them loose.

“…that feels good,” Ed sighed, only half aware that he spoke aloud.

For a while the only sounds in the library were Ed’s sighs.

Eventually, though, those sighs took on a different note, and his movement against Roy became less innocent. The more Roy’s hands relaxed him the more aware he became that he was draped against Roy, legs spread over Roy’s thighs, and that Roy was clearly interested in more than simple massage. Indeed, Roy’s hands were sliding down over Ed’s rear to pull Ed more firmly against him. Ed’s sigh broke.

“So, Edward?” Roy breathed against his ear.

“We’re in the library,” Ed pointed out, shivering.

“Indeed. A pleasantly deserted library,” Roy’s purred against Ed’s neck and Ed pressed into him, gasping. “And if someone does come in? If someone does see you, naked, spread out under me?”

Ed was torn between two opposing reactions, flinching from Roy’s words, and melting under Roy’s tone.

“Roy…”

Roy laughed softly. “Well, then, perhaps I’ll have to burn them to a cinder for the temerity of hearing your voice like this.” His hands returned to Ed’s back, stroking, kneading, and Ed wrapped his arms around Roy’s shoulders and buried his head in them.

Roy’s voice gentled. “No one will come here, Edward. This once, let go. Relax. Let me touch you; let me open you. This once, let me have you without the teasing and the sparks.”

If the heat of Roy’s body between his legs hadn’t been enough, the heat of Roy’s voice would have set Ed on fire.

“All right,” he whispered, shaking just a little at what Roy was asking from him.

Still. For all his teasing, Roy had never hurt him in any way while they were together like this. And it was exhausting to keep up with the teasing; if Roy wanted to leave it aside this once, Ed supposed he was willing to trust him.

Roy stood, lifting Ed with him, and set Ed down on one of the narrow, blue benches scattered among the carrels. Ed lay and watched as Roy stripped off his clothes, knowing his eyes were wide with his uncertainty. He let Roy undress him, sighing at the brush of his hands. Roy straddled the bench and guided Ed’s thighs over his.

Ed was breathing fast, trembling, as Roy kissed him slowly, deep but gentle. Ed leaned up into him.

“Roy… touch me…” Ed was set off balance by the absence of their usual edged words; he wanted the reassurance of Roy’s body against him very badly.

“…please…”

A harsh intake of breath answered him, and Roy caught Ed up into his arms, kissing him hard, now. Again, Ed leaned into it, making a soft sound when Roy’s tongue stroked his. When Roy let Ed down again he stayed close, and Ed relaxed a little with relief.

“Is this so hard, my hawk?” Roy’s thumb stroked over Ed’s cheekbone.

Ed shook his head, but found himself completely unable to explain why he was shaking, almost clinging to Roy.

Roy looked down at him, eyes thoughtful. Then he threaded one hand into Ed’s hair and tilted his head back against the bench. His teeth closed over Ed’s throat.

“Aah!” Ed’s spine arched sharply, but he felt the tension in him release, felt the muscles of his stomach and legs relax abruptly. Roy’s other hand slid under his back, sustaining the arch. The trembling lessened.

“…naked, spread out under me…” Roy’s voice echoed in Ed’s ears, and this time the words themselves rippled pleasure through him.

“Roy,” he gasped, breathless, “now… please… now.”

“Yes,” Roy murmured against his throat.

Roy coaxed him to turn over, legs on either side of the bench, and drew him back to the very edge. The sunlight falling across them touched Ed like another hand, gliding over his skin, reminding him of where he was. This was hardly the first time Roy had taken him to bed in daylight, but this…

The idea of it had changed, though. Ed would unquestionably be mortified if someone came in, but to have Roy seek him out here, desire him even here, stroked heat along Ed’s nerves.

Roy’s fingers touched him, feathered over his bare skin, slid between his legs, and Ed’s thoughts were brushed away. Ed moaned as Roy’s hand closed over him, rubbing softly; he shifted his hips, spreading his legs wider over the bench.

When Roy pressed forward, Ed was more than ready for him, already open to him, and Roy’s thrust sank deep into him.

Ed’s moan was lower, husky, as Roy’s slow, hard movement pressed him into the bench, into Roy’s hand. Roy was fire inside him, spiraling out through him so fast that when it flared Ed could feel Roy still hard in his tightening body, and somehow that drew the fire out until Ed could only lie limp and panting on the bench.

Irrelevant thoughts floated through is mind. The warmth of the sunlight on his back. How irritated the cleaners would likely be over the bench’s upholstery. How wonderfully smooth everything had felt…

Suddenly he blinked. Levered himself up on a shaky arm and looked around at Roy, who was leaning against his side. Sure enough, there was a very recognizable small bottle set carefully just under the bench.

Ed started laughing, and his arm refused to hold him up any longer. Roy brushed a hand over Ed’s hair.

“What?”

“Do you carry one of those with you everywhere?” Ed gasped out.

“Ever since the contract transfer,” Roy confirmed, serene.

Ed heaved a deep breath, getting his laughing back under control, rested his head on his crossed arms.

“So, what ceremony was it you dodged out of?” he asked at last, conversationally.

Roy dropped a kiss on his shoulder.

“Get dressed and I’ll tell you.”

End


Ed: *eyes story* Was that necessary?

Branch: Well, I kind of needed something to balance out the release of physical resistance in “Rough”. It just turned out like this. And I bent one of my own signal rules of smut for the sake of your psychological development, which I hope you appreciate.

Roy: What, embarrassed? Whyever should you be, Edward-kun? *leans against wall* Just because you begged me to take you over a bench in the National Library?

Ed and Branch: *gape at Roy*

Branch: Well! We’ll just be off, then, to let Roy recover from his testosterone poisoning… or whatever’s gotten into him…

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 14, 04
Name (optional):
Liana, moon01234 and 5 other readers sent Plaudits.

Gift

Ed finds things out about Roy’s plans, Roy gets a surprise. Plot With Porn, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Ed/Roy

Part One

Roy Mustang’s visitor was finally leaving, something for which Ed was profoundly grateful. The man had been underfoot for days, making bad jokes, getting dire glares from Hawkeye, and poking into everything. He didn’t seem to be attached to the military. Or to anyone within the military except Mustang. How he had managed to collect the entire command staff, plus Ed, to see him off was a mystery.

“Oh, and I almost forgot, Carl finally got back to me about your request!”

“And?” Mustang inquired.

“He says he doesn’t think they have the right food for gyrfalcons in his area, but he’ll keep looking.”

Mustang nodded.

Ed assuaged his irritation with the reflection that the man had mangled the pronunciation of “gyrfalcon”. It didn’t help a great deal. Fortunately, they managed to edge him out the door without too much further conversation. Ed heaved a sigh of relief.

Gyrfalcon… Ed wondered, idly, where had he learned how to pronounce that word. He remembered hearing it spoken. Who…?

“… my hawk… my fractious, cross-grained gyrfalcon.”

Ed stopped dead in the middle of the hall.

What had the man said?

“…food for gyrfalcons…”

And where he had read the word…

“…the king may fly a gyrfalcon…”

“Taisa,” Ed whispered, and then took a breath and almost shouted. “Taisa!

Mustang turned, brows raised.

Ed strode through the other officers and caught Mustang’s arm. His voice was barely audible. “Taisa, what are you doing?”

Mustang’s eyes narrowed, and Ed was aware of sharp glances being exchanged around him. His eyes never left the Colonel’s. It was a long moment before Mustang spoke, almost as quietly as Ed had whispered.

“Not here.”

They were arrayed in Mustang’s office before anyone spoke again. Mustang stood at the window, one hand on the glass. “Why do you ask now, Edward-kun?”

Ed, practically vibrating between the need to pace and the need to wring an answer out of his commander, spoke between his teeth. “Gyrfalcon. The bird a king flies.”

Mustang bowed his head briefly, smile wry. “I should have known you’d remember that.”

“Taisa…!” Edward reached out a hand, useless as that was with three meters of space between them.

Mustang sighed and straightened.

“This nation is broken, Edward-kun,” he said, even and cool. “Surely you’ve noticed it. How many uprisings and civil wars have we had in the past twenty years? No country so troubled over its government should have lasted. Yet we have. Each time there’s a rift it’s patched over, each time the citizens rise the military puts them down. Successfully. Because of us.”

He turned to look full at Ed, and Ed swallowed hard at the coldness in his eyes.

“The military succeeds because of the State Alchemists within its ranks.”

Mustang turned away again and Ed found himself shaking from the force of the gaze now withdrawn.

“It cannot continue. It must not continue.”

“Then why,” Ed hesitated, then forged on, “why do you stay?”

Mustang was silent a moment, and then let out a breath that sounded pained. “Because,” he replied, voice low, “only a military officer of the highest rank who is also an alchemist of considerable power could come close enough to Dai-Soutou Bradley to remove him and still hope to control the military through the upheaval afterward.”

“…remove…?” Ed whispered.

Mustang leaned his forehead against the glass. “Kill. Most likely.”

Ed was shaking again, fighting to breathe past his shock.

“I hadn’t intended you to know any of this,” Mustang continued, quietly. “You have a long history of doing things your own way without regard for politics of any kind. They would believe your innocence, and your power is too much a prize for them to kill you just as an example. If I fail.”

“Then what am I in this?” Ed wanted to know. “Why have you kept me in your command? Everyone else knows about this, don’t they?” He waved at Hawkeye and Havoc, who both nodded soberly.

“Long before you arrived,” Hawkeye confirmed. “He chose us as his staff because we agree that something needs to be done. Soon.”

“Told you that first day,” Havoc reminded him. “If it was just ambition for more rank we wouldn’t follow him.”

Mustang looked over his shoulder, smiling at Ed. For some reason that made the shaking worse.

“Ah, Edward. You are my hunter. Wherever you go you have a remarkable knack for turning up the secrets and breaks, for stirring things up, for setting people in motion. And then, too…” Mustang turned away again. “You are my example. I didn’t want to tell you this. I didn’t want to darken you.”

Ed pressed a hand hard against his mouth, staring sightlessly ahead of him.

“If you don’t wish to be involved in such a thing I can transfer you to someone else’s command.” Hawkeye stirred, and Mustang waved her back. “Even if he leaves us I don’t believe Edward-kun will say anything.”

Memories returned to Ed, fragmented. The distant look in Ryla’s eyes as she attacked unarmed men for raising their hands to a corrupt officer; the matter-of-fact insanity of a man who had lost everything at the hands of a State Alchemist; Gran’s eyes; Rose’s eyes; Al’s eyes, so long ago.

Roy Mustang, urbane and mocking and careless; surrounded in flames; smiling, knowing, as he sent Ed off with another lead; shadowed, troubled, as he turned away from Ed’s questions; strange and distant as he spoke of Ed’s brightness; laughing as he called Ed his hawk and named himself Ed’s falconer.

Standing at the window, straight and calm, waiting.

Ed came to him, stood in front of him looking up intently.

“I will fly for you. Taisa.”

Over Mustang’s shoulder he saw Hawkeye and Havoc exchanging puzzled looks. It didn’t matter. Mustang sighed, laying his hands on Ed’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Edward.”

Ed nodded, saluted, and walked out of the office and down the hall to one of the spare rooms where he collapsed into a chair and sat, shaking, for a long time.

Part Two

It had been a very long day by the time Roy trudged home, but he couldn’t quite face the idea of staying at headquarters tonight. Not with the echoes of his confrontation with Edward lingering there. Home meant peace and quiet, however temporary.

He left a trail of uniform pieces down the upstairs hallway, and was down to shirt and pants by the time he reached his bedroom. He leaned in the doorway to pull off his socks.

When he straightened up, though, he had to stop and blink at the bed a few times.

The image of Edward Elric sitting shirtless and cross legged on his bed did not go away.

Roy crossed the room slowly and looked down at him. “Edward?” It took a moment to dredge up an appropriate remark. “Was there a notice from That Author that I somehow missed?”

Edward’s voice was low and clear. “We’re off script. You know that. Forget the excuses.” He unfolded himself to kneel upright, took Roy’s face between his hands, kissed him. There was strangeness in the kiss, utterly focused yet somehow not demanding anything at all.

Edward let him go, caught up his hands, kissed them as well.

“Edward?” Roy was entirely bemused.

Ed took Roy’s fingers in his mouth, one by one, tasting them, sucking lightly on the fingertips. He turned Roy’s hands over, and Roy felt his tongue moving across the palms. Roy’s breath started to get uneven.

When Edward looked up his mouth was very serious, and there was an entreaty in the gold eyes at odds with his evident aggressiveness. He pulled gently on Roy’s wrists until Roy sat on the bed beside him.

Edward straddled his legs and undid Roy’s shirt, paying great attention to each button, and brushed it off his shoulders. He leaned into Roy, and Roy, now very curious, in a slightly light-headed way, to see where this was going, let Edward press him down.

Edward’s head bowed over Roy’s chest, and Roy sighed a bit under the open-mouthed kisses and gentle nips that tracked down his body. Edward undid the button at Roy’s waist and paused. Roy looked down just in time to catch Ed’s wicked smile before he took Roy’s zipper in his teeth to pull it down.

The heat of his mouth so close pulled a harsh breath from Roy.

The last of the clothing dispensed with, Edward stroked the inside of Roy’s knee, and Roy, after a thoughtful moment, opened his legs for him. Edward bent over him and took Roy’s cock in his mouth, toying with him as he had with Roy’s hands earlier.

Roy sank down into the heat with a moan.

Before too long, though, Edward drew back and stretched himself beside Roy, pressing more of those strange kisses to his neck. At some point in the proceedings he’d managed to get off the rest of his own clothes. Roy was impressed.

“Taisa.”

“Mmm?”

“Roy.”

The intensity of Ed’s voice pulled Roy’s eyes open. Edward’s fingers brushed his lips.

“…what do you want?”

Roy knew, looking in Edward’s eyes, that whatever he wanted Edward would do tonight. That this was the point of the apparent seduction. That was the strangeness in his kisses. A gift Ed had chosen to give him.

Anything he wanted. What did he want?

Well… the way Edward had been going had a certain appeal. It had been a long time, certainly, but it was something he’d enjoyed in the right mood.

Roy laughed, and pulled Edward into his arms. “I want to feel the touch of another human being. Everywhere.”

It took Edward a moment to unravel that, and then he stiffened, staring down at Roy. “You really…?”

Roy smiled lazily up at him. “Yes.”

He half expected to see that spark of challenge that sometimes lit Edward’s eye around him, but the serious intentness never flickered. Roy’s own expression softened. “Edward,” he whispered, drawing a thumb over Edward’s lower lip. His voice deepened.

“Kiss me.”

Ed shivered and came to him.

After a few breathless minutes, he glanced over at the nightstand and then back at Roy. “Where?”

“Second drawer.”

“What,” Edward muttered, rummaging, “not the first?”

Roy chuckled. “I never expected to have you in this bed, Impatience.”

Ed, leaning back over him, offered a sly smile. “Are you now?” he breathed against Roy’s mouth.

“Ask me again after,” Roy replied, just as soft.

Edward knelt between Roy’s legs and reached under him.

“Mmmmm.”

Roy lay back as warmth rippled out from Edward’s slow fingers. It took a little while for him to relax, but Edward, possibly from his own nervousness, didn’t rush. His touch was remarkably gentle, and Roy spread his legs wider to encourage him.

And then he felt something cool, hard. It took a shocked second to identify it.

The fingers of Edward’s right hand.

Roy arched up off the bed as they pressed into him, an icy tingle shooting down his nerves. “Ha…! … Ed…” The heat of Ed’s mouth closed over his cock again, and the contrast drowned his senses. “Ed…”

Finally Edward drew back for a moment, laying a hand on Roy’s chest. “Taisa?”

Roy’s voice came from deep in his chest. “Oh yes.”

Ed’s eyes burned, and Roy suspected they only reflected his own.

Edward shifted and his cock pressed against Roy, and Roy’s hands closed hard on the sheets. Slowly, slowly warmth and hardness pushed in, and he could hear Edward’s breath hissing through clenched teeth, and then the strange moment of release and capture, and Edward gasped.

Sliding heat. Roy stretched back with a long breath, disconnected shivers dancing over him. He opened his eyes and smiled, because Edward’s expression was that of someone who had just completed a complex calculation to his satisfaction.

The calculation was apparently one of angles and forces, because Edward shifted inside him and fire plunged up Roy’s spine. Ed’s hand wrapped around him, and Roy shuddered.

Ed’s touches were slick and hard, and Roy let himself stretch open into them, let them fire his body, let them drive him beyond himself and release him into surging brilliance.

As he caught his breath again afterward Roy pulled Edward down to him before he collapsed. They lay, legs tangled, pressed against each other.

“Was there any particular reason for this?” Roy asked at last.

Ed shrugged one shoulder, glancing up from Roy’s chest. It seemed that however their lovemaking went that was Edward’s favored pillow after. “I said that I would fly for you,” he answered slowly, “but it wasn’t… enough. For what you’re doing. For what you’ve given. It wasn’t enough.” He tucked his chin down. “You said I might understand later. Maybe it’s later.”

Roy remembered his words to Edward one especially bad-tempered day in his office. “My hawk…” When Edward looked up Roy kissed him as if he meant to inhale Edward’s breath and soul.

“Thank you, Edward, for a magnificent gift,” he whispered.

If Edward saw the gleam of wetness in Roy’s eyes before he turned his face into Edward’s hair he gave no indication of it then or later.

End


Branch: *fans self* Wow! Maybe we should try that another time, hey guys?

Roy: *insufferably smug*

Ed: *panting* You’ve got to be joking! He’s twice as demanding like this!

Branch: *wheedling* Ah, come on, Ed, wasn’t it fun?

Ed: *grumpy* Well, yes, I suppose. Maybe.

Roy: So, Edward-kun, what do you think? Did I have you?

Ed: *pointedly not answering*

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 14, 04
Name (optional):
Liana, moon01234, lazyfatkitsune and 9 other readers sent Plaudits.

Gone the Sun

Roy’s memories of his friend. Drama with Angst, I-4, spoiler ep 25.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Gracia/Hughes

Colonel Roy Mustang stood in the night.

Stood while the chill settled into his bones.

Stood and remembered.


“Roy! About time you got here! Serve you right if I finished your drink.”

Roy suppressed the urge to grin. “Oh, well, I was a bit delayed,” he said, elaborately casual. “Notice anything different?”

He posed so as to show his new First Lieutenant’s insignia to best advantage. He was sure Maas saw it immediately, but he made a great show of squinting at Roy from all angles.

“Hmmm. You got your haircut? No? I know, you put on this month’s new shirt! No? Hmm. New perfume?”

Roy swung at him, laughing, and Maas ducked and slapped a drink into his hand. As Roy sat he thumped him on the shoulder.

“So how did you get promoted before me, you rat, and why didn’t I know?”

“It just happened now,” Roy protested. “As for how, I imagine our worthy superiors judged I better fit their image of a command-track officer.” He looked down his nose.

Maas nodded, wisely. “Ah, of course. Ineffectual, easily-manipulated, effete clothes-horse…”

“Effete!?”

“Did I mention the easily-manipulated bit?” Maas forestalled another swing by holding up his glass. “Cheers,” he grinned.

Roy growled. “You’ll get yours, Hughes. Especially if you, a mere Second Lieutenant keep mouthing off to superior officers.”

“As long as the officer is you, there’s no problem,” Maas pointed out, mildly.

Roy had to admit the justice of this observation. They clinked and drank with enthusiasm.

“Did I mention the congratulations bit yet?”

Roy’s mouth quirked. “Not in so many words, but I got the idea.”

“Well, congratulations, my worthy superior.” Another clink. “If you can just manage to control that temper of yours, you’ll go far.”

“And what’s wrong with my temper?” Roy inquired.

Maas lifted a sardonic brow at him. “What, should we go another couple rounds of hand-to-hand to demonstrate? After the last time?”

Roy’s eyes narrowed at the reminder. He’s not getting me this time, he swore to himself. “Yes, I think we should do that,” he drawled.

Half an hour later Maas swept his legs out from under him for the third time and Roy stayed down when he landed. At least Maas was breathing as hard as he was.

“The point I was making,” Maas panted, “is that when something pisses you off you just put your head down and charge. You don’t pay attention to anything else.”

“Whereas you do?”

“I pay attention to everything, Roy. That’s my gift. Yours is to barbecue things that annoy you. Apparently this makes you command-track material.”

Roy hauled himself upright and eyed his friend. “Are you really upset about that?” he asked, quietly.

Maas looked at him thoughtfully. “No. You’re good with people, you like playing politics, command will suit you. So, no.” A slow smile spread over his face. “I’m going to jab you about it until you try to fry me, of course. But I’m not really upset.”

Roy fell back with a groan.


The Colonel’s hands held the rail in front of him so tightly it would have hurt if he had noticed.


Roy signed off yet another report and threw it onto the stack for his new aide to take away. He was becoming convinced that the only thing higher rank was really good for was making you read more reports.

And it wasn’t as if most of them actually came from, say, the field agents in Intelligence, which might have some significant information in them somewhere. No, these were the reports about how many uniform code infractions had taken place in the last month.

Of course, there were other ways to find out what Intelligence was up to…

Right on cue, his aide opened the door to their offices.

“Sir. There’s a Hughes-taii here to see you.”

“About time,” Roy muttered, slapping down the most recent useless report. “Show him in, Shoui.”

Maas threw himself into the chair of one of the spare desks and tossed a folder carelessly onto it.

“So?” Roy asked.

“Another new aide?” Maas shook his finger at Roy. “If you keep going through them like this the higher ups won’t let you have any more shiny new ones, you know.”

“Never mind my staff, Maas, are they sending us or not?” Roy snapped.

Maas eyed him. “Your staff will matter rather a lot, to your command, if they call you up alone in your capacity as the Flame Alchemist, won’t it?”

Roy inhaled very deeply and restrained his urge to throttle Maas. “If they’re not planning to call me, then the point is moot, isn’t it? Do I have an answer to my question already?”

Maas grinned. “There. You are getting better at this.”

Roy gave him a sour look. “I’m so glad you approve, sensei. Now will you give me a straight answer?”

A new voice spoke. “Based on this correspondence, Sir, Dai-Soutou Bradley has agreed to start choosing State Alchemists for deployment in the North at some time in the next few years.”

Two head snapped around to see the Lieutenant, who had apparently taken Maas’ folder and been reading through it the whole time.

“My file!” yelped Maas.

The blond woman looked at him coolly before continuing, to Roy. “No one is named specifically, yet, but as you are one of the most combat effective State Alchemists it seems reasonable to assume that you will be one of those chosen.” She handed him the folder, open to the pertinent page.

“Thank you, Shoui,” Roy said, a bit bemused.

“Sir.” She saluted and strode out of the office, closing the door behind her.

“Who is she?” Maas murmured.

“Lisa Hawkeye,” Roy told him, flipping through the pages. “Hers was the best of the personnel files I got to choose from this time. She’s very efficient. Expert shot, too. Snipers would have snapped her up for certain if she hadn’t chosen officer’s training. I admit,” he added, thoughtfully, “I hesitate to ask her for tea.”

He expected some crack from Maas about having a sense of self-preservation after all, but what he got was an extremely serious look.

“Roy. Keep this one.”

Roy raised an eyebrow.

“I mean it. You need her. You need someone who’s brass tacks and no nonsense to back you up. You can get so flighty sometimes.”

“…flighty?”

“What, you prefer flaky?”

Roy actually paused to think about that, and Maas clapped a hand over his face. Until he saw Roy’s sly grin.

“You bastard! You did that on purpose!”

Roy smirked. “You did say I was getting better at this.” He tossed the folder back to Maas. “There won’t be any trouble over that being gone, will there?”

Maas sniffed. “Of course not. As long as I get it back before they notice.”

Roy had the grace to look concerned.

“Don’t worry, Roy. This is my field.” He smiled lazily. “And the things you want me to do are loads more fun than my actual orders. Mustang-shousa, sir.”

Roy came around the desk and closed a hand on Maas’ shoulder. “Thanks, Maas.”

“Any time.”


The air burned in the Colonel’s lungs.

If he could stop his breath heaving so much, it might be better.


Champagne had been flowing pretty freely, and Roy figured he could get away with it.

He made sure Maas was in ear-shot before sidling up to Gracia and lifting a hand to brush her hair back from her cheek. “So, may the Best Man claim a kiss from the bride? For good luck?”

“Hey,” Maas squawked, gratifyingly, “hands off, Mustang! Find your own!”

“Surely there are no other ladies in the world so enchanting,” Roy declared. “Besides, she should have at least one kiss from a good looking man before she spends the rest of her life putting up with your scruffy face.”

Gracia’s efforts to restrain her new husband were hampered by her own giggles. Finally she resorted to kissing him into submission, though she blushed a bit at the whistles from the guests.

Roy offered Maas a fresh glass in compensation, as Gracia left for another round of mingling with the crowd. “Happy?”

Maas looked at him as if Roy had asked whether it was nice to be able to breathe. “Aside from a few troublemakers who seem to have crashed in by impersonating a member of the wedding party, I’ve never been happier in my life.”

Roy showed his teeth. “I did warn you what would happen if you kept making fun of your superior officers.”

Maas grinned back. “You’re a bastard.” He slung an arm around Roy’s shoulders. “So,” he continued, “since you can’t have Gracia,” this backed up with a dire glare, “what about that Hawkeye-shoui of yours?” He gestured with his glass across the room to where Gracia and Hawkeye had their heads together and were laughing.

Roy looked at him as if Maas had asked whether he would like to gargle ground glass. “…Hawkeye? You are joking, right?”

Maas now looked smug. “Thought so.”

“You thought what so?” Roy eyed him narrowly.

“She is the one you need. And you know it. I can’t imagine any other reason you, of all people, would refrain from making a pass at a woman that impressive.”

“The regulations forbidding fraternization within a command?” Roy suggested. “The fact that I really don’t want her to shoot me anywhere important?”

Maas laughed uproariously, which Roy thought rather unfeeling of him. After all, Hawkeye clearly liked Gracia and probably wouldn’t shoot her friend’s husband. A mere commanding officer had no such assurances.

“Just remember what I said, Roy,” Maas told him, recovering himself, “keep this one.”

“Right, right. You too.”

Maas raised his brows. “Hm? How’s that?”

A corner of Roy’s mouth curled up. “Well, you never know when a wonderful lady like Gracia will wake up and realize how many other, much better looking, men would be happy to…”

Maas chased him around the table, brandishing the champagne bottle.


The Colonel could feel tears starting to freeze on his cheeks. He could feel himself shuddering.

He supposed it was the cold.He sank to the ground and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop the shivering.

It must be shivering. It was cold out.


Roy knelt, shaking, in the broken stones of Ishvar.

The muscles of his stomach hurt from being wrung out so hard. Bitterness filled his throat and mouth. He was contemplating whether he had the strength to stand when hands closed over his shoulders. He started, violently.

“Roy! Roy, calm down. It’s me.”

“Maas?” Roy coughed. He didn’t question how Maas had found him. Couldn’t think past the noise and the smell and the memory of fire, the words that wouldn’t leave his head… your orders… just following orders…

Maas caught him as he doubled over again. “Here. Drink this.”

The water washed away a little of the bitterness. Roy hadn’t thought it would leave.

“Now drink this.”

The burn made him cough again.

“Finish it. You need it.”

Roy didn’t argue. He emptied the bottle and slumped back against a shattered wall beside Maas. Whatever had been in it seemed to unlock his voice. It was the first time Roy had spoken in what felt like days. “…can’t go on. Like this. Have to stop…”

“You could turn in your license,” Maas said, quietly.

Roy shook his head, suddenly wild to make Maas understand what he meant. “Not that! We have to stop. This has to stop!” His voice was harsh, and Maas silently handed him the water again. Roy laughed.

It took a while to stop.

“We can’t stop it now,” Maas told him softly.

“Maybe.” Roy looked over the rubble around them. “But we can stop it again. This can’t happen again, Maas.”

Maas’ voice was impatient, pained. “Do you really think you can stop it?”

Roy didn’t know what was in his face, but when he looked at Maas whatever it was made his best friend edge back.

“Roy…”

“If I’m the one making the decisions I can.”

It looked as though Maas would protest that statement, but he bit his lip and looked away. “Are you serious?” he asked at last.

Roy clenched his fist, feeling the roughness of his glove against his skin. Not again. “Yes.”

Maas looked back at him, grave and measuring. “All right. Whatever I can do to support you, I will.”

Roy blinked. “Are you serious?” he found himself echoing.

Maas looked at him more normally, with affectionate derision. “Of course I’m serious.”

“Maas… This isn’t a joke. This is…”

“Treason. I did get that part, yes.” Maas took Roy’s shoulders again and shook him a little. “But if anyone can actually pull off an idiotic, suicidal stunt like this, it’s you. And you’re right that this can’t go on and leave anything spared of us. And I will always support you. Always, Roy. Understand?”

Maas’ bare statement had the force of anyone else’s oath, and Roy bowed his head, bringing his hands up to grip Maas’ on his shoulders.

“Understood,” he whispered.


“How long is always, Maas?” he whispered now.

Dimly, he felt something warm settle around his shoulders. Looking up he found Hawkeye beside him. She had brought his coat.

He had kept her. Or, perhaps, she had kept him. And she had picked up his plans as easily as she’d picked up the folder that day, given herself to his cause as easily as she’d given her opinion, grounded him and guarded him as efficiently as she did everything else. Maas’ advice was almost always good.

Always.

How long?

“Hawkeye.”

Her eyes widened. The Colonel very rarely called her by anything but her rank. “Sir?”

His hand closed tight on hers. “Promise me you’ll do your best to live through this.”

He could see her weighing it, weighing, most likely, his life against her own. That was why he had not asked for more. But finally she nodded.

“I promise.” Her grip suddenly rivaled his. “Promise you will too.”

That was the exchange, he knew. That was his duty to them. To live. To succeed in what they gave their own lives for. The weight of it bent his head down. “My best,” he agreed. “I promise.”

She accepted that with a nod of her own and climbed back to her feet. “Are you coming in yet?”

“In a little while.” He looked up at her. “Thank you, Chuui.”

Her eyes were serene as she saluted him. “Sir.”

Roy looked up at the clearing sky, wishing he could think of something to pray to for the peace of his friend’s spirit. But, in the end, the only thing he could offer was what he had promised his second.

“My best, Maas. Everything I am. I swear it.”

Tears could not even this exchange. But perhaps time would. Roy closed his fist.

Everything.

End

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 19, 04
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Two to be Steady – Part One

How Roy and Hughes might have met and become friends. The starting thought was How did Roy get to be like that? Hughes seemed a reasonable answer. Drama With Occasional Porn, I-3, spoilers eps 3 and 15.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang

I

When Maas Hughes moseyed into the refectory the first sight to meet his eyes was the unpleasant one of First Lieutenant George Cutter and his cronies bullying another new officer.

He could see right away what had drawn them. This one looked pretty young, slightly built, and was huddled just a bit into his overcoat as if trying to keep the whole world from looking at him. Of course it had the opposite effect on all the lowlife.

I can’t eat a decent lunch with this going on, Maas decided, and started through the lunch-time crowd toward the scene.

He got there just in time to hear Cutter sneer, “…heard Gran transferred you right off, too. Maybe you aren’t as good as he thought you’d be.”

The young man finally stirred, unfolding his arms. The coat slipped off as his shoulders straightened and he laid his right hand, palm down, on the table.

There was a circle on the back of his glove.

Silence spread out like ripples in water after a dropped stone. Maas pursed his lips, seeing the blank chill in those dark eyes now focused on Cutter. This man had not just come to the end of his rope, he’d deliberately dropped it. This could just get bad.

And then he looked at Cutter and couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Cutter looked like a melting ice cube he was sweating so hard, and white showed all the way around his eyes. Heads turned at the unexpected sound, and Maas strolled the rest of the way to the table, slapping Cutter on the shoulder in passing.

“Looks like you have a real talent for picking the wrong target, there, George.” Maas plonked himself down in the chair opposite the young Alchemist. “Why don’t you just run along, before I spare our new friend here the bother?” Just to drive the point home, Maas flicked out one of his knives for a moment. Cutter broke and scurried off, his tiny gang of sycophants on his heels. Maas shook his head, still chuckling.

“What a loser.” He squinted at the exposed circle. “The Flame Alchemist, hm? Well, no wonder you look like death warmed over.”

The Alchemist blinked at him. Maas glanced at the insignia. “And it’ll probably be days before it catches up with him that, in addition to frying him, you could have him up for threatening a superior officer. Too bad I won’t be there to see his expression.” Maas sighed, wistfully.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Maas smiled to have finally gotten some words out of the man, even if they were a bit flat. “He tried that stunt on me when I was first assigned at Central. Like I said, he has a talent for the wrong target. He stays as clear of me as he can these days.”

The Alchemist accepted this with a nod. After another moment of silence Maas tried a new approach.

“I know the food isn’t the best, but you should probably try to eat a little more than that,” he nodded at the untouched tray.

A head shake met this suggestion. “I was actually just about to leave. I have some practice scheduled for myself.”

If Maas had ever seen someone who really didn’t need to be alone with himself, it was this person. “Practice, huh? Do you mind an audience?” he asked casually.

Finally, the Alchemist actually focused on him. Maas smiled at the question in his look, letting just a hint of challenge slip into the expression. It seemed to do the trick, because the Alchemist’s chin came up just a bit.

“No, I don’t particularly mind,” he answered.

Maas grinned and offered his hand. “Well then, Maas Hughes, pleased to meet you.”

The Alchemist reached out his right hand automatically, pulled up sharply like a stumble, but completed the gesture after all and clasped Maas hand. “Roy Mustang. Likewise.”

And you really sound it, Maas reflected wryly. But, what the hell, it was about time for his monthly act of charity.

Practice, in this case, took place outside. A reasonable precaution, considering that Mustang seemed bound and determined to see how many different ways he could blow things up. And, indeed, it seemed an audience didn’t matter to him. He focused on his targets as if he were completing the last step in creating the Philosopher’s Stone. Maas might as well not have been there, except that Mustang never actually aimed through him.

Twelve hay bales later, Maas was moved to a question. “Wouldn’t a wider range of materials be more useful?”

“If I was working on my range it would,” Mustang replied, a bit distracted. “But this is for precision.”

Maas surveyed the blizzard of charred straw around them. “Precision. Of course.” As he’d half hoped, that pricked Mustang into a more detailed response.

“How much of the straw has actually been burned?” the Alchemist asked, dark eyes snapping but tone cool.

Maas took a longer look, estimating the scattered straw against the intact bales Mustang hadn’t gotten to yet. “Between half and a third,” he guessed.

“Precisely,” a tight smile, “and straw is considerably more flammable than… other things.”

People or buildings, Maas filled in that sudden catch. “Huh. So how can you burn something lightly? Fire is there or not, isn’t it?” he probed, hoping that his subject wasn’t about to clam up again.

Apparently technical details were safe, because Mustang’s mouth relaxed from its hard line and he actually smiled a bit. “What I transmute is actually air, increasing certain elements to make a path for the fire to move along from the initial spark.” He waggled his fingers indicatively. “Oxygen is easiest, but different elements react differently. By adjusting them one way or another, at one remove from the target or another, I can change the properties of the fire also. I’m pretty sure that I can evacuate the air from around a target, too, without ever burning it, but that’s taking longer to do in practice.” Mustang actually grinned. “If I want to do something like simply incinerating…” he looked at one of the remaining bales and snapped his fingers.

The explosion that rocked the yard left only a smear of ash in its wake.

“…then that’s a lot easier.”

Maas grinned, too. Ah, if he can still show off he’ll be fine, he decided. He was a bit relieved, because he had been seriously considering whether he should bundle Mustang off to a doctor before he lost it. He’d seen a couple people returning from Ishvar who were broken, and the idea of an Alchemist in that situation was not a comfortable one. But Mustang was probably just a little torn around the edges.

“Impressive,” he admitted cheerfully. “With your dedication I can see why Colonel Gran promoted you straight up to Captain.”

Maas started back at the look the flashed over Mustang’s face. Rage, disgust, contempt, horror, all tangled together and were gone. He sucked in a breath. “Or not. You really don’t like Gran, I take it?”

Mustang pursed his lips.

“I mean, you looked like you wanted him standing where that hay bale used to be,” Maas continued before shutting up in recognition that the shock was about to start him babbling. That look had been worlds beyond the one Mustang had given Cutter, and that one had been bad enough.

Come to think of it…

“That’s why you finally lost it with Cutter, isn’t it?” Maas hazarded. “When he mentioned Gran.”

Mustang gave him a long look, eyed the Intelligence tabs on Maas uniform, and raised a sardonic brow.

“Oh, come on, you don’t really think I’m investigating you?” Maas was indignant. “I’m a lot smoother than that, thanks so much! Besides, from what I hear Gran can be enough of a bastard to excuse anyone hating him.”

The brow stayed up.

“And on top of that,” Maas huffed, “if you really want to keep a lid on it just being quiet isn’t enough. You should have immediately come out with some harmless reason to be pissed off, like he took the last helping of spinach or something.”

Mustang tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Really?”

Maas put a hand over his face and started laughing. “Yes, really,” he managed. “Good grief, is that what it takes to open you up? I show you how to be successfully insubordinate and you’re fine being friendly?” He lowered his hand just in time to catch the next interesting expression. Irony, this one, shuttered quickly. Mustang said nothing.

“Well,” Maas sighed, “if that’s the case, I should probably mention at this point that you’re doing it again.”

Mustang’s head came up, eyes a little wide. Way too expressive for his own good, this one. Maas was familiar with the problem, since he had the same one, but he’d learned how to keep his expression from matching his thoughts too closely. Mustang obviously hadn’t. Maas tried for a casual tone.

“So, what insubordination did you already successfully get away with?”

Mustang pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Look, I swear I’m not investigating!” Maas protested.

“I believe you.”

The quiet statement shut Maas up, even while the inward look that went with it made him wild to find out what was going on.

“It isn’t my secret. That’s all.” Mustang smiled, a much more fragile look than the grin. “Thanks for the tip, though.”

I was right the first time! Maas groused to himself as Mustang turned back to his hay. He really needs to talk to someone before whatever he won’t talk about sends him ’round the bend. Maas knew perfectly well, though, that his silent complaints were merely a last ditch effort to keep “someone” from being him.

Because now he was curious.

II

Roy had no idea just what had caused First Lieutenant Maas Hughes to decide that he, Roy, needed a friend. Or, possibly, an overseer, because Roy swore that Hughes had his schedule clocked and mapped.

Maybe it was just reflex. Hughes was in Intelligence, after all, and practically drooling for field assignments. Anyone with eyes could see that Headquarters life bored Hughes to tears. Roy couldn’t imagine what the man’s superiors thought they were about, keeping him cooped up here.

So maybe it was just boredom.

Whatever the cause, Hughes popped up in the damndest places, dragging Roy out of his rooms, out of the library, out of his office and off to get food in the city, or a drink, or just a walk. The only place he left Roy alone was when he was practicing, and that only after Roy had threatened to make Hughes a target.

It had been the first time in months he’d even been able to think something like that as a joke.

Today, it was the library.

“Yo, Mustang!”

Hughes cringed, theatrically, in the cross-fire of the librarian’s glare and Roy’s. He tiptoed over to Roy’s table. “What’s on your menu today, O Great Scholar?” he whispered.

Roy favored him with a resigned look. “I was reading history,” he murmured.

“Darts will be much more fun,” Hughes declared, hauling Roy unceremoniously out of his chair. “Think of it as target practice.”

Roy couldn’t help a smile as he was towed out of the library. The more he got his head back in some kind of order, the clearer it was to him that Hughes and his interruptions had done a lot to keep him from crawling into a hole and brooding himself into useless oblivion.

Even if it was a little unnerving that Hughes always seemed to know where he was.

“So, what’s so interesting about reading history, which is all about the stupid mistakes of dead people, when there are live people all around you making brand new stupid mistakes right where you can watch?” Hughes wanted to know.

“Are they new?” Roy asked back.

Hughes eyed him and clearly decided to skip straight to the end of this debate. “If people really could avoid mistakes by learning from history, would we be where we are now?”

A grin stretched Roy’s mouth. This was one of the things he liked about talking with Hughes; the man could think and argue. “Yes, we would, because everyone learns not to make some mistakes, and then doesn’t listen to other people explaining about the other mistakes that they learned not to make.”

“What, you want a steering committee for the world? Or are you just bucking for the General Staff, personally?”

Roy smoothed his expression and, following Hughes’ advice from the day they met, said lightly, “Something like that.”

From the gleam in Hughes’ eye Roy didn’t think he’d escaped all notice, but Hughes didn’t push it.

And that was the other thing hanging around with Hughes was good for. Practice.

It was a good evening, though, and Roy didn’t mind too badly that Hughes beat him at darts; Roy was, slowly, getting better. The act of aiming didn’t make his hand shake any longer.

It was closing on midnight when one of the other patrons challenged Hughes to a match.

Roy was used to seeing the long lines of Hughes’ face relaxed in a lazy grin. Sardonic, at the most. He’d never seen the cold, focused look that flickered there now, before Hughes turned a wide smile on the challenger.

“Sure thing! My frien’ here just isn’ a challenge, you know?”

Hughes speech hadn’t been slurred like that five seconds ago, either. Roy sat back, making sure his own face was blank and watched.

Hughes lost two rounds, narrowly, with what looked a great deal like drunken distress. By that time Roy was expecting the offer of a “friendly wager” to make the last round “interesting”. He had to keep his beer in front of his face to conceal his amused disgust at the stock dialogue. Hughes agreed. The challenger threw carefully, making a very good score, and turned to Hughes with a triumphant smirk.

Hughes smiled back, narrow eyed, and his speech was clear as glass. “For the end of this, you know, I think I want to use my own.” One of his small, evil looking knives appeared between his fingers. He barely looked at the dartboard as he threw it, to land dead center.

After a moment of frozen silence, the challenger slid the money they had bet toward Hughes and left without a word.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Roy chuckled as Hughes sat back down.

Hughes sniffed. “When someone’s planning to cheat you, nice doesn’t come into it.”

“Point,” Roy admitted. “But how did you know so fast?”

A bit of the hardness returned. “Are you kidding? They’ve been watching us almost since we got here. And anyone who doesn’t know me would expect me to be pretty drunk by now.”

Roy considered his friend for a moment. He hadn’t really thought Hughes had that twisty of a mind, but taking into account tonight’s performance… “Were you playing under your game this whole time?” he asked evenly.

Hughes gave him a pained look. “Give me some credit, Mustang. You’d be ticked off if I did, and you’re a lot more dangerous than them.”

Roy looked away. “No, I’m not. You know I wouldn’t do something like that.”

Hughes was silent for a few moments, looking like he was weighing something. Then the cold expression returned full force and he leaned forward. “Yes, you are. Not to me, no, but I’ve seen it a few times. That look you get. And let me tell you, Mustang, if you don’t do something with that much rage you will lose it some day.”

Roy let his own cold come to the surface, the cold that had begun to grow the day he closed his mouth on the news of Dr. Marco’s desertion. Truth for truth. “What makes you think I’m not doing something with it?” he asked softly.

Hughes’ eyes narrowed, and his mouth tilted. “I did wonder about that,” he admitted.

“I thought you might have,” Roy agreed.

Hughes sat back, laughing. “You’re a stubborn one, all right. All this time just to confirm what I knew the day we met.”

“I should give everything away without seeing a return?” Mustang asked. “Not what you should expect of any alchemist.”

“Fair enough. Oh, and about the whole keeping up a cover thing?”

Roy raised an eyebrow.

“Just cultivate the face you’ve got on now,” Hughes recommended.

“Hughes…”

“Maas, already,” Hughes cut in.

Roy was too intent to argue, which, when he thought about it later, was probably the idea. “Maas, then, this is exactly what I don’t want known.”

Hughes… Maas squinted at him. “You’ve never looked in the mirror when you’re like this, have you?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Didn’t think so. Look, it doesn’t make you look harmless, but you aren’t harmless and very few people will think you are no matter how sweet you look.”

Roy glared.

“That one’s good, too,” Maas grinned. “The point is, when you look like that you’re a lot less readable.”

Roy rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Maas. Why are you coaching me in how to be unreadable and as good as telling me that you’ll help me do whatever I’m doing?”

Maas propped his chin on his fist. “You want the truth?”

“Always.” Roy’s voice was sharp.

Maas teeth gleamed briefly. “I’m curious. And you’re doing something covert, which is my specialty. And having known you for a few months I think whatever you’re doing will be something I would appreciate.”

Roy thought about that. Maas was, in his own phrase, laid back and, in Roy’s estimate, cynical. On the one hand, that would probably keep him from being horrified by what Roy wanted to see done. On the other, it would also probably make him skeptical about the scope of Roy’s plans.

And then he thought of that cold, hard focus he’d seen on Maas’ face tonight. It seemed he wasn’t the only one at the table who cultivated a mask, because that look had overwhelming drive and power behind it.

“I suppose you might appreciate it at that,” Roy said slowly.

“Of course! Now, don’t feel you have to tell me anything, Roy,” Maas assured him expansively, “after all, it’ll be much more fun to figure it out myself.”

“Indeed?” Roy couldn’t stop a wicked smile at the thought. If Maas thought he had all the upper hand… “Well, then, perhaps I’ll see if I can make it more… interesting for you.”

Everyone else in the bar probably thought that the two laughing young officers were just drunk.

TBC

Last Modified: Oct 03, 07
Posted: Jan 22, 04
Name (optional):
7 readers sent Plaudits.

Two to be Steady – Part Two

How Roy and Hughes might have met and become friends. The starting thought was How did Roy get to be like that? Hughes seemed a reasonable answer. Drama With Occasional Porn, I-3, spoilers eps 3 and 15.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang

I

Maas was having the time of his life.

Figuring out Roy Mustang was providing more fun than any two field assignments put together. Tracking Roy’s movements was easy enough; figuring out why he went certain places and did certain things was the challenge.

Some things were already clear. Promotion seemed to be step one of whatever Roy’s project was. He was efficient with his paperwork; he was meticulously respectful of senior officers; he was courteous to those who worked under him, and they said good things about him to the grapevine; he took initiative, but carefully.

Maas favorite instance of that last, the one he would have pressed in a scrapbook if he could have, was when Hakuro’s aide arrived one rainy afternoon, muddy from head to toe, with the news that his superior was stranded outside the city in a broken down car and would be late for a rather important meeting. By the time Hakuro’s own superior made it to the front doors, still arguing viciously with the Colonel in charge of the motorpool over whose fault this was, Roy had arranged for another car, a mechanic and a change of uniform just in case, and handed them off with a salute.

The looks on the faces of the arguing officers had been treasures, and Maas was very glad he’d been in a position to see them.

What Maas didn’t know yet was what Roy wanted to do with more rank. Part of Roy’s obscurity, he had to admit, was really his own fault. Roy had taken to heart his advice on how to conceal his thoughts. Day by day, nearly, Maas could see him honing that terrifying coldness that Maas had seen in him the day they met. It was like watching ice crystalize, and an unguarded smile was coming to be a rare thing from Roy.

In his own contrary fashion, Roy was also rapidly acquiring a reputation as a bit of a playboy, which Maas had found odd considering how reticent Roy seemed to be most of the time. Then he’d made up a list of all the women and the few men Roy flirted with most, and another list of who else those people associated with regularly. He’d laughed until his neighbor pounded on the wall for him to shut up. It was such a Roy way to do things—straightforward and roundabout at the same time.

Maas was still unsure what to make of Roy’s relentless drive to refine his alchemical skills. Of course, any State Alchemist was expected to show results for the resources they took up, but the ones who were serving officers had a bit of latitude. Roy’s dedication went far beyond what was expected of him on that score, and Maas was fairly sure that Roy was concealing the extent of his ability from everyone but Maas.

It helped, of course, that Maas was the only one who would come anywhere near Roy while he was practicing.

Maas was sure he was getting somewhere, though. Given Roy’s reading material during his retreats to the library, what he wanted clearly had something to do with politics. Maas stopped short of trying to get Roy drunk enough to talk freely about his political views, because this was, after all, a friend he was trying to unravel.

But he was still getting somewhere, and thus he was first annoyed and then amused at himself for being annoyed when he got an assignment to go South looking for some Alchemist who had disappeared.

Still, he’d only be gone a few weeks.

II

It’s only a few weeks, Roy told himself sternly. Stop moping.

Contrary to all his expectations, Roy had found himself enjoying the dodging about with Maas. The man was unendingly tenacious, and kept Roy on his toes; he was even good company while they sparred back and forth. Roy was sure he knew the location of every bar and theatre in Central City by now, dragged there in the name of “relaxing for once, Mustang!” So when Maas departed on an assignment Roy was left with a feeling of let-down.

He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop himself from finding excuses to stroll past the Intelligence offices with increasing frequency, hoping to hear that Maas was back.

This is silly. It isn’t like I don’t have other things to pay attention to. There’s no reason to wander around looking like…

“Well, don’t you look like a wet week,” observed an amused voice behind him.

Roy spun around with what he was sure was a foolishly wide smile before he managed to compress it into a grin. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten yourself transmuted into a frog down there, Hughes.”

“Ha!” Maas’ expression changed to one of disgust. “Didn’t see hide nor hair of any alchemist. Well, at least it was a chance to get out of uniform, since no one would give me the time of day if I was wearing it.”

Indeed, Maas looked scruffier than usual, which, Roy considered, took a little doing.

And then he actually heard what Maas had said.

“Sounds rough,” he said casually. “Come have a drink and I’ll let you bend my ear about it.”

They swung by Roy’s room to pick up the bottle, but wound up in Maas’ so he could unpack.

“So, boring couple weeks?” Roy probed, pouring for them both.

Maas snorted. “Waste of time, as far as my actual assignment went. Now, if I’d been sent to investigate civilian attitudes toward the military I could have written a report as long as my arm.”

“Not good?” Roy took a mouth-concealing sip.

“Only what anyone with a brain might expect, really.” Maas sprawled over his bed and took a long swallow. “They recruited pretty heavily from that area for that mess out East. A lot of people didn’t come back. A lot of families are wondering what all those lives went to accomplish.”

“Did anyone… take it out on you?” This time, Roy had no qualms with letting his investment in the question show.

Maas’ mouth tilted up at one corner. If he meant it as a smile it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not beyond a little shouting.”

“Mmm.”

Maas’ look was suddenly sharp as it raked over Roy’s face. After a few rather unnerving minutes his mouth twisted into a more genuine smirk. “So,” he said softly, “do you want to staunch a rebellion single-handedly to impress Bradley, or do you want to see them all succeed in breaking away?”

Roy laughed, relief and alcohol combining to make him just a bit light-headed. “Neither.”

“Interesting.” Maas leaned back on one arm, hazel eyes hooded. “Well, I’ll keep an ear out for you in any case. If you like.”

Roy had to pause to admire the artistry of that offer.

Maas offered his, not insignificant, help in ferreting out information Roy wanted. But by knowing what Roy wanted and seeing what interested him, Maas would come that much closer to identifying Roy’s final goals. So now Roy had to ask himself again, did he want Maas Hughes to find that out?

“That would be helpful,” he said, at last, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t until Maas’ shoulders relaxed a fraction that Roy understood his friend had also been asking how much Roy trusted him.

They both covered the moment by pouring new glasses.

When did it come to trust? Roy wondered. When did that start?

III

It was two days after his return that Maas discovered how a certain portion of the headquarters personnel had seen his little welcome-home bash with Roy. It was First Lieutenant Harding who sniggered loud enough for Maas to hear.

“…should have seen it. And they went straight back to Hughes’ room, locked the door and didn’t come out until nearly dawn. Guy next door said they were laughing an awful lot.”

“I’m amazed Mustang could walk that morning,” another of the small group chipped in.

“Well, maybe Hughes went easy on him…”

The group dissolved into snickers and crude suggestions.

Maas reacted without thinking, and two knives buried themselves in the wall a centimeter from Harding’s nose. The little group cowered back as Maas stalked toward them, but he merely retrieved his knives. In the silence, the noise they made coming clear was quite audible.

“Excuse me.”

thu

“My hand slipped.”

thu

Harding lifted both hands, cautiously. “No offense, Hughes, he’s all yours, I mean…”

Maas gave him the kind of look reserved for the terminally stupid, right after their stupidity has terminated them.

“Are you really brainless enough to believe that the Flame Alchemist, one of the most dangerous men in this city, belongs to anyone? This is a friendly warning, right?” Maas tapped the point of one knife against Harding’s chin. “If he ever hears you say something like that I’m going to stand back and laugh while he fries your balls for breakfast.”

He strode away, leaving a couple very pale men behind.

Complete idiots… He highly doubted that Roy Mustang would let himself sleep with an actual friend. Roy was downright allergic to vulnerability of any kind. Maas was positive his trust had been betrayed at some point. Besides which, he was pretty sure they had it the wrong way around. There was an intensity in Roy that overwhelmed whatever it was focused on and would not give way to anything. It was what fueled his remarkable efficiency and drove his unremitting practice of alchemy as a combat skill. Maas would bet money that that intensity would show up in bed. It was actually a good part of what made Roy so attractive.

Maas stopped dead in the hall and ran that last thought through his mind again.

Oh, I’m not… Well, yes, obviously Roy was a good looking man, and could be charming when he wanted to, as his string of bedazzled secretaries demonstrated. But…

Maas took himself off to his office and proceeded to get no work done at all.

All right, all right, Maas admitted at last, refraining valiantly from beating his head against his desk, I do think he’s attractive, as well as an interesting puzzle, and amusingly muzzy when he’s drunk, and a darn good drama critic, and… oh, hell.

He sighed. Not as though it was really news that he liked to play with fire.

If Maas could now just keep from adding to the gossip by, oh, say, overreacting, it wouldn’t likely be any problem. He spent a few moments hoping fervently that, best case, Roy would never hear of the grapevine’s latest sexual estimation of him or that, next best case, he wouldn’t take it out on Maas.

Ah well. Life had been too boring before.

IV

The last hay bale ripped apart with a concussive shock. Roy sighed. Maas jumped down from his perch behind Roy and strolled over to examine it.

“Don’t think you’d better count on that one to just disable,” he remarked, judiciously.

“Do you know, I had that thought myself?”

Maas grinned over his shoulder. “And still sarcastic. Your endurance must be increasing.”

Roy lidded his eyes and smirked. “We could test it out,” he suggested, rasing his hand.

Maas’ eye glinted, and his own hand flickered. Roy melted the knife half way.

“Thanks,” Roy said as they made their way back inside.

Maas lifted a brow. “What for?”

“Ah.” Roy shook himself. “Nothing. Never mind.”

The thing was, he thought as they parted ways, Maas was the only person he knew who looked at Roy’s alchemy as perfectly normal. Some people wanted to use its power, some were afraid of it, but only Maas treated it as a handy tool that Roy happened to be good with. Something a lot like his own knives.

Roy had known, intellectually, that as his skill increased and as he displayed more of it, the fear of those around him would likely increase also. But to actually see that fear, to have people step out of his way in the hall…

He didn’t like it.

Yet… wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t that what he had set out to accomplish by condensing his rage and disgust into ice and focus?

Even the ones he charmed had that distance at the back of their eyes, that wariness.

Roy closed the door of his room behind himself, curled up on his bed and finally looked at the thought that had been creeping around the edges of his mind for weeks.

That was how people looked at Basque Gran.

Roy shuddered and curled up tighter.

But Maas didn’t look at him like that.

He held onto that thought very, very hard.

TBC

Last Modified: Oct 03, 07
Posted: Jan 22, 04
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Two to be Steady – Part Three

How Roy and Hughes might have met and become friends. The starting thought was How did Roy get to be like that? Hughes seemed a reasonable answer. Drama With Occasional Porn, I-3, spoilers eps 3 and 15.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Hughes

Captain Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, had been stalking around Central City headquarters all day like a panther with a thorn in its paw.

A young panther, to be sure, but that didn’t make the people around him feel significantly more secure.

After the sixth time Maas was accosted in the hall with a more or less subtle inquiry of whether he could please do something about his friend, he decided it might actually be serious and not just Roy practicing his intimidation techniques.

A few questions revealed that Roy had met with Colonel Gran that morning to discuss his promotion prospects.

Definitely serious. Wonder why he didn’t mention it? Unless, of course, the meeting had come as a surprise to Roy himself. In which case, the question was whether it would be better to get Roy out of headquarters to somewhere he could blow things up until he calmed down, or to distract him somehow.

A quick look out the window showed clouds piling up as evening drew on. Not outside, then.

Maas tracked Roy down to his room. His knock on the door was greeted by a groan.

“Maas, since I know that’s you, you are not dragging me out tonight, not anywhere, I don’t care how good the beer is at the latest bar you found!”

Maas breezed in anyway. “Nor even how beautiful the girls are?” he inquired.

Roy removed the arm he had thrown over his eyes so that he could glare. “Nor that either. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that one out for yourself…” he trailed off in a grumble.

“What,” Maas asked, pulling up a chair across from Roy’s bedside table, “that you only flirt with the ladies who are girlfriends or secretaries or whatnot to the officers with their fingers in politics?”

Roy didn’t even bother to sigh. “Yes, that.”

“Weeks and weeks ago. Not to worry, Maas is here with the perfect thing to help you unwind after a long day,” Maas declared.

The look of some trepidation on Roy’s face changed to blankness as Maas pulled out a deck of cards and bridged them between his hands.

“Cards?”

“Poker, to be specific,” Maas corrected, starting to shuffle.

Roy’s lips twitched a few times before he broke down laughing. “Poker? Us?” He curled up on his side, holding his stomach. “I could have sworn you said relax,” he managed at last.

Maas eyed his friend tolerantly. “Oh, come on Roy, how many secrets do you think you’re still actually keeping from me? Surely it won’t make that much difference whether you work at fooling me or not.”

Roy gave him an opaque look. “I’m pretty sure there’s at least one,” he replied.

Maas was pretty sure there were more than that, but he certainly wasn’t going to say so. “Well then you could still use the practice on something that doesn’t matter, right?”

Roy hauled himself upright. “Since I doubt I’m getting out of this, you might as well just deal.”

Once they were playing Roy’s lackluster attitude disappeared like snow in the spring, as Maas had rather expected it would. Roy really was insanely competitive about anything he paid attention to.

And he was getting a lot better at controlling his expression, too.

“Raise.”

“Call.” He can’t really have…

An evil smirk appeared. “Royal flush,” Roy declared, laying the cards out with a flourish.

“All right, all right, you got me this time,” Maas laughed. “I still carry the night.”

“Well,” Roy allowed, “since I am more relaxed than I was three hours ago, I suppose you do.”

Maas leaned back in his chair, smiling. Roy always remembered all the stakes. “I certainly do. And you’re just lucky we weren’t playing strip poker, my friend.”

Roy gave him a Look, and then leaned back himself. Maas realized that he had just managed to hit another competitive trigger.

“Why Maas,” Roy purred, “I had no idea you walked that side.”

After a moment of fast calculation on the odds, Maas decided he’d better alter his ground. An innuendo war was just as likely to wind Roy up again. He shrugged. “Once or twice. You?”

It was his personal discovery, and one he was rather proud of, that Roy would almost always respond to a direct revelation and then a request for one in return. It seemed to be a reflex. It worked this time, too.

“On occasion.” And then the ground changed again. “Is there a reason you ask?”

Maas scrunched up his mouth. Roy was looking at him narrowly. Maas knew his friend was perceptive when he was paying attention. To hedge or not to hedge? Maas’ common sense was telling him to stop and think about this. His love of challenges and puzzles, backed up by the hormones that had lately been taking notice of Roy, were telling him to go for it. Ah, screw it.

“Could be,” he allowed, letting his eyes travel down Roy in a very clear once-over.

“Hm.” Roy’s posture shifted subtly, more open, more sinuous. “Well, then,” he said softly.

It was becoming increasingly hard to tell, with Roy, whether this kind of invitation was shyness or a trap. Maas decided that it would be interesting either way. He moved across to the bed and brushed his hand along Roy’s jaw.

Roy tipped his head back, his eyes half closed.

Maas leaned down over him and brushed his lips across Roy’s. He felt them curve under his, and then Roy twisted, quick as a cat, and Maas hit the bed hard, on his back, with Roy’s weight over him.

A trap, he decided, as Roy’s mouth closed on his for a hard, searching kiss.

Maas laughed up at his friend as Roy drew back. “Well, aren’t we feeling dominant?” he teased.

“Yes,” Roy agreed, very quietly, “we are.”

“Why does that not surprise me in the least?” That wildness that Maas occasionally saw in Roy was clear and present, burning in his eyes, and Maas found that he had, in fact, more than half expected it—the other side of Roy’s coldness, most likely springing from the same source, the intensity Roy brought to all areas of his project, but uncontained here and now.

“Does it bother you?” Roy asked

Maas also found that the idea of being touched by that intensity was very attractive indeed. “I don’t mind one way or the other, as long as you’re considerate about it.”

Roy’s teeth gleamed. “Always,” he breathed before leaning down again. One of Roy’s hands curled around the back of Maas’ neck and Maas let Roy’s mouth open his own. He was curious to see how far that wildness would go. Curiosity really will be the death of me one of these days, he decided, a bit hazily as Roy slid a leg between his thighs.

Roy’s body, moving against his, was demanding, but his hands were gentle, fingers tracing light paths down Maas’ arms, chest, over his ribs.

He was not particularly gentle with their clothing, and Maas was fairly sure he’d have a few buttons missing after this.

On the other hand, the heat of skin against skin was worth it, and Roy’s skin felt almost fever-hot under Maas’ hands. He missed it when Roy whispered to wait and rose to make a whirlwind rummage through his dresser. When he returned, he lay down beside Maas.

“Here, bend you leg.”

Maas thought that Roy must be watching his face very carefully, because he was not slow and his fingers never stopped, but he never quite went faster than Maas could handle. When Maas released a low sigh Roy leaned down and kissed him long and deep.

“Now?”

Roy’s dark eyes were hot, but his mouth was calm and still. Maas could see that if he wanted longer Roy would hold the wildness back, and he smiled. It was good to know.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Roy moved down the bed and ran his hands up the backs of Maas’ legs. Maas arched against the bed, gasping, as Roy pressed into him, hard inside him. It was a controlled movement, but still not a slow one. Roy pushed him to the edge, overwhelmed with raw sensation.

From the sound of Roy’s voice, Maas wasn’t the only one.

In fact, Roy was the first to fall over the edge, which Maas felt quite smug about in the corner of his brain that still functioned.

And then Roy’s hands were on his knees, pushing his legs down and apart, and Roy’s mouth closed over him, hot and wet, and Maas’ hips tried to flex up into it. He shuddered as Roy’s hands held him down and open, and groaned as Roy’s tongue pulled him hard into brilliance.

They lay, sprawled next to each other, catching their breaths, and when he had, Maas couldn’t stop laughing. “That was so very you, Roy.”

“Mmmm,” Roy mumbled before opening his eyes. “How so?”

“I can’t imagine anyone else who could be that forceful without ever actually being rough about it.” Maas smiled affectionately at his friend.

Roy propped himself up on his elbows. “You don’t mind that I was… forceful?”

Maas grinned. “Nah. It was fun.”

Roy returned it. “Good.”

Maas stretched, paused, stretched more carefully. “Of course, if you’ve got a few aspirin hanging around I wouldn’t say no to them.”

Roy scrambled out of bed with a penitent expression and returned with aspirin, water and a towel. Having applied each appropriately, Maas pulled Roy down and kissed away the concerned line of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again some time,” he murmured.

Roy ran a hand through Maas’ hair. “You’re sure?”

Maas decided it was time for desperate measures, before Roy managed to make himself feel guilty. “You make love like a windstorm, never stopping, taking everyone’s breath away, lifting everything off the ground, wild enough to scare people.”

Roy was a bit wide-eyed.

“Like I said,” Maas continued, with less poetry and more pragmatism, “it’s you. And I know you. I knew it would be a wild ride. And I enjoyed it.”

Now Roy was actually blushing. Maas’ mouth quirked. “Besides, now I bet you’re really relaxed,” he finished. “I carry the night.”

Roy’s mouth twitched once. Twice.

And then he snatched a pillow to pummel Maas with.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 22, 04
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Two to be Steady – Part Four

How Roy and Hughes might have met and become friends. The starting thought was How did Roy get to be like that? Hughes seemed a reasonable answer. Drama With Occasional Porn, I-3, spoilers eps 3 and 15.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang

I

When Maas Hughes was promoted from First Lieutenant to Captain he bragged about it rather a lot to his best friend, Captain Roy Mustang.

Roy bore with him fairly patiently, only an occasional twitch of his fingers giving him away.

Exactly one week later, Roy was promoted to Major.

Maas found out from the bulletin board.

He stalked down the halls to Roy’s office and slammed back the door.

“Mustang!”

Roy leaned his chin on his fist and gave Maas a glittering smile. “Yes? Hughes-taii?”

Maas opened his mouth, shut it with a snap, and glared.

Roy smiled wider.

“You’re an evil bastard,” Maas told him, almost calmly. “I thought you should know.”

“Thank you for your input,” Roy murmured.

Maas slammed the door again on his way out.

He hauled Roy out to the bar that night to celebrate.

“You do remember we have a dress review tomorrow morning, don’t you?” Roy asked, not as though he thought it would alter Maas’ plans.

Maas waved this off. “I’m not the one who gets hung over, now spill! How long have you known it was coming?”

“For sure? Only a few days.”

Maas was faintly appeased. “I suppose that’s all right then.”

Roy laughed at him, and they toasted both their new ranks.


Maas felt somewhat revenged the next morning, when he noticed that Roy was squinting a bit in the sunlight as the staff of Central City headquarters all turned out for review.

He didn’t have a great deal of time to appreciate it, though.

Intelligence had been scrambling for almost two months over death threats to Dai-Soutou Bradley, so it was not actually a shock to Maas when gunfire came from the roofs around the parade ground. He didn’t even waste time cursing today’s security for their failure.

He had time to fire twice, time to be sure that at least two of the bodies hurtling toward Bradley would get through, and then the air exploded. Fire whipped out, coiled around the attackers, snapped and burst. It left collapsed bodies smoking in its wake.

The crowd, frozen in the midst of panic, drew back slowly, leaving Roy Mustang standing alone, hand raised.

Of course, Maas had mentioned his office’s upset to Roy.

Bradley picked himself up and nodded to Roy. “Thank you, Major.”

Roy saluted him, crisply. “Excellency.”

Bradley returned it, and waved to his security detail to take care of the bodies.

“Excellency,” one of them exclaimed, “they’re not dead!”

Bradley turned back to favor Roy with a long look. Roy’s expression was cold and still, and Maas thought he might be the only person there who understood how much pain was compressed behind it, how many hours of practice to refine his skills until he could injure without killing.

He’d pried the story of Ishvar out of Roy a while back. Was this what it all came down to, after all? The determination to be something more than a gun in someone else’s hands?

“Excellent forethought,” Bradley remarked at last.

Maas watched Roy’s eyes, focused on Bradley as he turned away, and decided that there was still more he hadn’t found. He made his way to Roy and laid an unobtrusive hand on his shoulder.

“Can you walk?” he asked, having seen Roy occasionally collapse in a heap after a particularly impressive effort.

“Yes,” Roy returned quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

Looking up, Maas found Gran staring at them. Measuring his erstwhile subordinate’s power? Or perhaps his ambition? The latter, it seemed, since he paused on his way past them.

“Going straight to the top, Flame Alchemist?” he grated.

Roy didn’t look at him. “I merely acted as my duty demands. Sir.”


Whether Gran liked it or not, it seemed that Roy had indeed caught Bradley’s eye, because he was reassigned to the command of one of the Headquarters General Staff. It was because of this that Maas finally realized just how great a secret he’d been chasing for over a year.

He’d been called in to give a report in person. A waste of time, in his estimation, since he couldn’t exactly add more facts than he’d put in his written version. Still, it afforded him some mild entertainment to watch Roy not paying any attention at all because he’d heard it already.

But, no, Maas realized slowly, Roy was paying attention to something else. His eyes stayed on his notes or on Maas, but his attention was focused on Bradley like sunlight concentrated in a magnifying glass, brilliant and burning. After a while Maas started to be amazed that everyone in the room didn’t notice it.He’s focused on Bradley like he looks at those hay bales of his…

Maas stiffened.

It was all he could do to keep answering questions coherently while that thought reverberated in his head.

He can’t… really…

Politics. Ambition. Reports of unrest. Power.

Fury.

He gratefully accepted his dismissal at last, and collapsed against the wall outside to try and catch his breath.

Roy…

II

When Maas showed up at Roy’s door looking grim and just a bit wild around the eyes, Roy was sure that something momentous had happened in his office that day some time after his rather bored report-in-person. “Maas, what happened?”

Maas scrubbed his hands over his face and gave Roy a long look. “Roy. Are you really planning to kill Bradley?”

Roy thought his heart might have stopped, but no, it was just his breath. The question he had been hoping, fearing, anticipating took him completely unawares. After a frozen second he nodded.

“And what? Replace him?”

“Not… exactly,” Roy whispered. He collapsed to the edge of his bed.

Maas, not looking in much better shape, just slid down the wall to the floor. He rested his head on his knees and laughed helplessly. “And I spent all this time wondering what the big deal could be.”

Roy really didn’t want to ask, but he had to know, and he had to know now. “What will you do about it?”

“I’m not going to turn you in,” Maas said without lifting his head.

Now it was Roy’s turn to have to put his head down on his knees, as the room went dark for a moment. He could feel his heart again.

“And I’m not going to ask something stupid like why, because I really do remember all the conversations we’ve had this year,” Maas continued conversationally. “Or at least I did while I was wandering around after that damn meeting.”

Roy was recovering enough to be curious. “How did you know?”

Maas finally looked up, frowning a little. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and squinted at Roy. “You know, I think it might just be that I know you. I could see the way you were focused on him, and the thing it said to me was target. After that… it was just adding the bits up. But no one else seems to see it.”

Roy could feel his attempt at a smile wavering a bit. “No one else knows me like that.”

“I guess not.” Maas let his head fall back against the wall. “You’re crazy, you realize that.”

“No, Maas, I’m not.” Roy’s voice was suddenly clear and cold.

Maas blinked up at him.

“The ones who are crazy are the ones who throw thousands of lives away like a handful of sand in the desert. The ones who exalt destruction and the means of it. The ones who can think that the destruction of a city full of people only trying to keep their lives and homes can be justified in the name of defense. To stop them? That’s sanity.”

Maas looked at him silently for a dozen heartbeats, and then closed his eyes and bowed his head. “You’re right.”

It was Roy’s turn to blink.

Maas fetched up a sigh that sounded like it started at his toes and looked up again. “What do you need?”

“What…?”

Maas came to Roy and took his shoulders. “What do you need to make this work, Roy?”

Thoughts flickered through Roy’s head. People I can trust… To know what’s going on… To stir things up… But in the end it was none of those he voiced to Maas’ steady gaze.

“I need to not become one of them.”

Maas nodded firmly. “Then you won’t.”

A shudder ripped through Roy, and he reached out to Maas to keep his balance. They ended up on the floor by the bed, leaning into each other’s arms.

“Thank you,” Roy whispered, trying to still himself.

Maas held him tighter.

Eventually Roy calmed enough to start thinking again. Maas had just decided to help him with something that could end in a very unpleasant death. However much comfort his help would give Roy, Roy felt impelled to double check. “Are you sure?”

Maas chuckled. “Do you remember what I said the last time you asked me that?”

It took Roy a minute, but when he recalled he laughed too. “If I’m not mistaken you said that you enjoy wild rides.”

“A long time ago you agreed that I might appreciate what you want to do,” Maas said, more seriously. “You were right.”

“Not,” he added, “that you should get a swelled head about being right so often, mind you.”

Roy suppressed the urge to ask why not? He would save it up for later.

“Thank you,” he repeated instead.

TBC

Last Modified: Oct 09, 07
Posted: Jan 22, 04
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Two to be Steady – Part Five

How Roy and Hughes might have met and become friends. The starting thought was How did Roy get to be like that? Hughes seemed a reasonable answer. Drama With Occasional Porn, I-3, spoilers eps 3 and 15.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Hughes/Roy

Today it was Maas’ turn to wander aimlessly around the offices while he waited for Roy to get back. He supposed it was only fair for the boredom to be shared both ways, and he had to admit that his fidgeting was less volatile than Roy’s was these days, but that didn’t make the wait any less annoying.

Of course, it was probably just as well for the rest of the world that he and Roy had only ever been sent on the same assignment once. It had been great fun; Roy loosened up considerably once away from Central, and Maas had the pictures to prove it. But the incident with the case of beer, the General’s boots, the mess tent and the two cans of red paint had apparently convinced their superiors that Hughes and Mustang should be assigned separately in the future.

At least he could be reasonably well assured that his friend had good back up while he was away. Roy had been given command of a unit for his assignment, and accordingly had also attached an aide. A quick chat with her last Sergeant had assured Maas that Second Lieutenant Lisa Hawkeye was as competent as they came. Sergeant Morrow, whose kindest term for Second Lieutenants was usually “baggage”, had nearly gushed over her.

Fortunately, before Maas’ fidgeting devolved into writing graffiti on the bulletin boards, his ear detected the return of Roy and his new aide both.

“…see that the liaison gets a copy of the report, too.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maas narrowed his eyes when he actually saw Roy’s face. It was absolutely expressionless. Roy passed him and continued into his office with a nod and a brief, “Hughes.”

What the hell happened out there? Maas shot a glance at Hawkeye, who was frowning faintly.

“I’ll copy it and pass it along to you, then,” Roy said to the air, his back to them.

“I can take care of that, Sir.”

Roy shook his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

This seemed to be some kind of last straw for Hawkeye and she turned to Maas. “Hughes-taii, Mustang-junsa needs to stop and get some rest. Do something about this, if you please,” she told him crisply.

Now Roy had an expression. Astonished. Maas had a feeling his wasn’t far behind.

Hawkeye gestured sharply, as if to brush the surprise away. “You’re the only one in this city he actually listens to. Now.”

Maas shook off his amazement and grinned at Roy. “You heard the lady.”

Hawkeye held out a hand for the folders Roy still carried. “I’ll take care of it, sir,” she repeated more softly.

A tiny, wry smile crossed Roy’s face. “Of course, Shoui.” He passed over the paperwork and turned for the door.

Maas, following him out, offered Hawkeye a casual salute behind his back. “Observant, that one,” he remarked to Roy as they made their way to the officers’ dormitory.

“Very.”

Maas was frowning himself, now, but didn’t press yet. Instead he kept up a one-sided stream of the latest headquarters gossip until they reached Roy’s room.

“All right, Roy, what happened?” he demanded as soon as the door was shut.

“Nothing.”

Roy stood in the middle of his room, staring at empty air. Maas’ mouth tightened. Something had struck one of Roy’s fault lines, and he didn’t have many that would cause a reaction like this. Killing the unarmed was one. Dealing with Gran was the other. To the best of Maas’ knowledge Gran had been completely uninvolved with this assignment, but maybe…

And then he took Roy’s arm to turn him around and revised his opinion.

Tremors were running through the whole of Roy’s body, sharp, uneven. His expression was edgy, brittle. He looked as if one blow would shatter him. Maas hadn’t seen him like this since the night they’d finally had all the secrets out. This was stress, not guilt.

“When they looked at me… they were so afraid… I could taste it…” Roy’s voice was thin, and Maas wasn’t sure his eyes saw what was in front of him.

“You can’t avoid it,” Maas told him as gently as he could. “When civilians see…”

My own men!

Oh, damn. Maas had actually been tracking the increasing alarm among the soldiers regarding Roy and his power, but it was holding fairly steady for now at the “cross him and you’re toast” level. He hadn’t expected that to have such a severe effect on Roy, but looking back on it he realized he should have. Roy took a certain savage enjoyment in making the senior officers scared of him, but this, Maas finally understood, must be included in Roy’s motto and first law.

I need to not become one of them.

And he’d been away from headquarters, with no one to say this to or get reassurance from. The first sting had obviously festered for his brooding on it. Fortunately, it didn’t take all that much to bring Roy out of these moments; logic was usually enough.

“Roy, it will be all right,” he soothed. “You can change this if you need to.”

Well, at least that had gotten Roy to focus on him. Maas tugged him down to sit on the edge of the bed, a little afraid that his friend was going to fall if that shaking kept up. “Listen,” he said reasonably, “You’ve spent well over a year cultivating the appearance of a really dangerous bastard. So it had some side effects you didn’t expect. But not everywhere. That second of yours sure isn’t afraid of you, is she?”

That actually got a short laugh. “No,” Roy agreed.

“So there’s your starting point. She’s your aide. The longer she’s with you, the more the men under your command will take their cue from her. You worry too much.”

That got a longer laugh, albeit faintly tinged with what Maas pegged as slightly hysterical relief. At least the shaking had stopped, though it seemed to have left Roy a bit wrung out by the way he flopped back across the bed.

Yet another crisis averted, Maas congratulated himself. Really, Roy was way too high strung to be allowed to run around without a keeper. Nice that Maas seemed to have been gifted with an ally who thought the same thing; he’d really have to have a chat over coffee with that Hawkeye-shoui sometime soon. Roy was taking so much on himself that the only real surprise was that he hadn’t completely snapped long since. At least he had unwound for now, even if he did do it more abruptly than seemed advisable.

“Maas, can I ask you for a favor?”

Maas snorted. “That depends entirely on the favor.”

Roy’s smile was languid, his eyes just a touch hazy.

“Make love to me?”

Maas felt a smile curve his own lips. He very much enjoyed Roy in this mood. When he truly relaxed, all of Roy’s incredible focus spread out into a tangible appreciation of his senses and surroundings. It didn’t happen often, which was a shame because Roy was clearly a born sensualist.

Maas leaned over Roy on one arm, trailing his fingers along Roy’s jaw. Roy sighed, tilted his head back, and Maas kissed down his throat before searching out his mouth.

Roy stretched and shivered under his hands as they slid over Roy’s increasingly bared skin, arching into each touch. His complete responsiveness when he was like this, his total abandon, affected Maas strangely. The soft, breathless sounds Roy made when Maas kissed the hollow of his shoulder or lightly bit the inside of his thigh called up in Maas protectiveness to match his desire.

When he finally settled between Roy’s legs Roy was panting, trembling again though with a very different tension now. Roy’s body opened for him, and the heat of it cut Maas’ breath into quick gasps. They moved against each other hard, wild, moans and soft pleas twining around each other as tightly as their bodies until the tightness broke and exploded outward.

Even as they lay and recovered Maas found himself still tracing his fingers over Roy’s shoulders and cheekbones, kissing him slowly. Roy turned into him, answering with equal leisure, flushed and undone, all but purring.

“You know, don’t you,” Maas murmured to him, “that you’re going to addict whatever poor lovers you let see you like this.”

Roy’s eyes darkened just a bit. “There isn’t anyone but you I trust like this,” he pointed out.

Maas kissed him again. “There will be.” And again when it looked like Roy would protest. “They won’t be me, no. But they will be themselves.”

Roy’s eyes were unreadable now, but he seemed to accept that and settled against Maas’ shoulder.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 22, 04
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Two to be Steady – Part Six

How Roy and Hughes might have met and become friends. The starting thought was How did Roy get to be like that? Hughes seemed a reasonable answer. Drama With Occasional Porn, I-3, spoilers eps 3 and 15.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang

I

Normally Maas liked to visit Roy’s office. Since his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel he had started to collect a permanent staff of his own and they were entertaining people.

Today, though, he couldn’t quite settle down to provoking Hawkeye, who Maas thought was much too serious, or sparring with Roy, or even gossiping with Havoc, who Maas swore inhaled the latest juicy fruits of the grapevine through his cigarettes without bothering to do anything as energy intensive as listen.

At last Roy dragged him off, allegedly to have company with his coffee but more probably to prevent Hawkeye from expressing her frustration with Maas’ restlessness too directly. He’d already collected three, increasingly irritated “Junsa”s.

“So what’s up today?” Roy asked as they sat down. “Gracia break a date?”

Maas fiddled with his cup. “No. Kind of… the opposite.”

Roy was looking more amused by the moment. “Gracia demanded a date?”

“She wants…” Maas took a deep breath. “She wants to get married.”

“I’m not surprised at all. Congratulations.” Roy sipped his coffee with, Maas felt, completely insupportable calm.

“Married, Roy! She wants to get married! To me!”

“Well, I didn’t assume she wanted to marry me,” Roy murmured. “No accounting for taste I suppose.”

Maas growled, and Roy finally broke down laughing. “Maas, stop jittering for a minute.”

He glared, but did settle a bit if only because Roy so rarely addressed him that informally in public.

“You’ve been courting Gracia for months. You love her, I know you do because you mention it several times a week. She loves you, or at least Hawkeye says she does. Surely you’ve been thinking about this?”

“Well, yes, but not seriously,” Maas protested. “I mean, not this fast.”

Roy shrugged callously. “Gracia is a determined woman. When she decides what she wants it’s a reasonably foregone conclusion that she’ll get it.”

If anyone should know, Maas had to admit, it was Roy. Kindred spirits. “All right, all right, I’m resigned, I’m resigned. In a very good and happy way!”

“Probably just as well,” Roy noted.

It wasn’t until they were leaving that Maas collected himself to ask about the other thing that had been making him a bit nervous.

“Roy. When Gracia and I are married… will you stand up with me?”

Roy stunned him with the open smile that almost no one ever saw on him anymore. “Of course I will, Maas. Thank you for asking me.”

“Who else would I ask?” Maas wanted to know, relaxing.

“Armstrong?”

Maas attempted to chase Roy down the hall but was laughing too hard to catch him.

II

“Hey, Roy, you’re still trying to find that Elric guy, aren’t you?”

Roy looked up from his interminable stack of paperwork. Maas was leaning in the door. “Not that it seems to be doing much good, but yes.”

“Well, this letter came for Herbert, with his name on in. Herbert happens to be in the field, so I thought you might like to see.”

Roy found that the envelope had already been opened, seal carefully left intact. Maas was nothing if not good at his job. When he’d read the letter he simply sat for a while, gazing out the window, until Maas finally prodded him.

“So? What’s it say? And why would a man who took that much trouble to disappear write openly like this?”

“It isn’t from Hohenheim. It’s from his sons. They also seem to be looking for him.”

Maas made a face. Roy’s mouth quirked, he having already heard extensively from his friend on the subject of the responsibilities entailed by having children. He rather thought Gracia had decided to have one soon.

“I think,” Roy said slowly, “that I’ll pay a visit to the Elric family. There might be… possibilities.”

End

Last Modified: Oct 03, 07
Posted: Jan 22, 04
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The Seconds’ Club

Une and Hawkeye unwind after long days at work. Porn With Insights, I-4, spoilers ep 16 FMA. Timeframe: ep 16 FMA, post ep 23 indeterminate GW.

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Une
Pairing(s): Une/Hawkeye

Lisa Hawkeye, having in one gruelling afternoon re-filed files, re-written schedules, ordered furniture moved and rooms cleaned, and thrown all the left-over knickknacks in a box to ship to Central, made one last stop and tapped on her commander’s door.

“Is there anything else you need before I go?”

The Colonel looked up from his work and smiled. “No, I think we’ve straightened out all the mess that our visitors from Central left behind.” He patted his repossessed desk fondly. “You can go.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She saluted, and the Colonel returned it as casually as he always returned military courtesies to her, as if her adherence to them amused him.

“You’re meeting that friend of yours at the Club tonight?” he asked as she turned to go.

Lisa looked back over her shoulder a bit warily. She and Une had to be careful what they said about each other at home. Continuity contamination could get both of them banned from the Club. “Yes.”

“I would be interested to meet her commander one of these days,” the Colonel mused.

Lisa felt her eyes widen. “That… could be… problematic, Sir,” she choked.

The Colonel’s mouth quirked.

“For whom?” he wondered softly.

Let me count the ways… Lisa boggled, slightly dizzy at the very thought of what might happen. Fortunately the Colonel didn’t seem serious about carrying out his terrifying notion, at least tonight, and he waved her out with a good-natured, if wry, grin.


The Seconds’ Club was dark tonight, only a few soft overhead lights supplementing the candles on each table. A single spotlight did gleam off brass in one corner as Lisa threaded her way toward Une’s waving hand. She nodded toward the instruments as she sat.

“Live entertainment tonight?”

Une made a face. “William is having musical pretentions again, I think.” She slid a drink across to Lisa. “Here. You look like you could use this.”

Lisa took a long swallow, and sagged back in her chair with a sigh. “I did. Thanks, Une.”

“Long day?” her friend asked sympathetically.

Lisa groaned.

“First there was all the upset with Scar trying to kill all the State Alchemists single-handed, pardon the pun, then Mustang-taisa just has to go and scare the life out of me and then he has to bait Edward-kun while we’re trying to get the boy packed off to his mechanic, and the contingent from Central left East headquarters a complete mess, and guess who gets to straighten everything out?”

It all came out in a single breath, and Une patted her arm while she took another slug of her drink.

This, after all, was what the Seconds’ Club was for—so that the people who actually kept affairs running could vent before they want completely around the bend and left their frequently megalomaniac commanders to their own devices. It was the most off-duty public location in existence.

Lisa smiled as she took a more moderate sip. Une looked exceedingly off-duty tonight, in soft knits and a loose pony-tail, an impression only slightly modified by the gun at her hip.

Then Lisa grimaced as she remembered the other thing. “And to top it all off, Mustang-taisa wants to meet Treize-san.”

Une coughed on her drink.

“He what?” she gasped, eyes watering.

The two women shared a long look, and Lisa was sure they were both envisioning the same Machiavellian wildfire running gleefully through two continuums. Probably more.

No,” they stated in firm unison.

Lisa frowned as she watched Une blot her eyes, and squint just a bit. “Did you have a lot of paperwork to read today?” she wanted to know.

Une smiled ruefully. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your eyes always bother you in low light after you’ve been reading for a long time. Tell you what,” Lisa finished her drink, “let’s go back to my place. And put on some real music.”

Une stood with her. “And let you get changed, too,” her friend returned with a touch of sternness. “You came straight here from work, didn’t you?”

“You bet I did,” Lisa said fervently, “before another crisis came up to stop me.”


“So, do we need more to drink, or should I put on tea?” Lisa asked as they hung up their coats and guns.

“Tea would be lovely,” Une decided.

“You pick out music, then.”

By the time Lisa had changed into her favorite old tee-shirt and drawstring pants the kettle was whistling and she brought it, with mugs and the tea basket, out to the living room.

Une had put on her favorite string quartet from Lisa’s collection and was lounging on the couch with her eyes closed.

Lisa set her peppermint and Une’s favorite blackberry to steep and pulled up a few of her floor cushions to the other side of the table.

“So, what did he do to scare you so badly today?” Une asked, opening one eye.

Lisa shivered.

“Gran found one of the deserters. It was a huge mess, but in the end Bradley’s people took the man into custody. Roy… he decided to go to Bradley and admit that he’d known all along where Marco was and hadn’t said. I think he did it to convince Bradley that he really is loyal, just didn’t trust Gran. Or maybe it was for one-upsmanship, to say he could get information Bradley couldn’t. Maybe it was just to force some resolution so he wouldn’t have to keep watching over his shoulder for what Bradley would do if he found out.” She laughed, pressing a hand over her eyes. “Knowing him it was probably all of those and a few I haven’t thought of. But, Une, he invited, he nearly provoked, Bradley to punish him for what could be seen as treason! He said it was the coin he had to use, but… If Bradley had finally decided he was too dangerous, decided he really was disloyal…”

Une got up and came around to sit behind Lisa, arms around her waist. “Ssh, now. It’s all right, Lisa, it didn’t happen.”

Lisa leaned back against her friend with a shuddering sigh. “I just hate it when there’s nothing I can do to protect him.”

“I know,” Une whispered against her hair, rocking her gently.

“I would give my life for him, Une, but he takes so much on himself trying to protect us. Trying to make things better.” Lisa was silent a moment before bursting out, “And I love Gracia, but sometimes I wish Hughes were still… what he used to be to Roy. Because God knows he won’t take that kind of comfort from anyone else.”

“Would you offer it, if he would?” Une asked.

It wasn’t a new question between them, and the answer hadn’t changed in the years they’d known each other, but Une asked it again every so often. Lisa turned in her arms, curling up against her.

“Not me. I’m not sure I could take his attitude in bed. And I am sure it would affect how we worked together; it would be incredibly unprofessional.”

“You can say that again,” Une muttered. “Treize-san is such a horrible tease when the mood takes him. If I never have to look another bottle of bath oil in the face again it will be too soon.”

Lisa chuckled, remember that story very well. Une’s fingers combed her hair, lingering over her hair clip, a silent question in their personal body language.

Speaking of that kind of comfort. And I so need some after today. Lisa reached up and undid the clip, laying it on the table. Une made a pleased sound and threaded one hand through the loose strands. The other set her own hair-tie on the table next to Lisa’s clip.

Lisa stretched against Une, pushing her back onto the pillows. Une rolled them over until her weight settled, comfortably, over Lisa, and Lisa could see her smile. She raised a hand to trace the strong, soft lips with her fingertips. Une captured one between her teeth, and Lisa laughed. When they made love Une reminded her of a great cat. A leopard or jaguar perhaps. Playful, powerful, sleek, grace given form and made soft to the touch.

She stretched again, sighing, as Une ran her hands up under Lisa’s shirt, over her stomach, pausing as they touched her breasts.

“You changed out of more than I thought,” Une observed.

Lisa gave her a slow smile through lowered lashes. “Not objecting, are you?”

“I’ve been called crazy, but never that crazy,” Une murmured against Lisa’s mouth.

Their lips barely brushed, tongues seeking a way past each other, dueling playfully until Lisa laughed again and Une kissed her hard. Une’s fingers stroked the curve of her breast so lightly it almost tickled, and Lisa moved into her touch, paused to pull her shirt off, pressed against Une again.

“Have I mentioned lately how much I love the fact that you’re not shy?” Une asked, running her tongue along Lisa’s collarbone.

“Mmmm. How lately?” Lisa sighed.

And then she forgot the question as Une closed her mouth over Lisa’s nipple and sucked slowly. A complex shiver of heat wound down Lisa’s body.

Une drew back and an odd clunking noise made Lisa open her eyes in time to see Une take a sip of tea from the still-waiting mugs. She set it down beside them, swallowed, and gave Lisa a tiny grin.

Lisa blinked.

And then Une’s mouth found her breast again, shockingly hot from the steaming tea. Lisa arched up, hands closing sharply on Une’s shoulders.

“Une…” she breathed, “oh…”

Une’s hand stroked down her spine, as Une’s tongue started to outline her ribs, one by one. Lisa hardly noticed when Une tugged her pants loose and slid them off, but did notice that Une’s own clothing was getting in the way. She wanted to feel Une’s skin.

All clothing dispensed with, Lisa had to pause a moment for appreciation. The movement of Une’s sleek muscles never failed to entrance her. As Une settled over her again she let her hands catalogue the smooth planes of Une’s back, the strong curve of her rear, let them sweep back up her sides, thumbs just brushing the heavy softness of her breasts.

Une’s teeth closed delicately on Lisa’s ear before she whispered, “May I?” Her hand stroked Lisa’s hip.

Lisa closed her arms tight around Une for a moment.

“Yes.”

Une slid down her body, moving her legs apart. She nibbled down the inside of Lisa’s thigh as her fingers brushed lightly between Lisa’s legs, sliding against her. Lisa sighed, muscles tightening low in her stomach. She moaned as Une’s tongue replaced her fingers.

Drew back.

Returned steaming hot again, and Lisa lost her voice for a moment as Une’s tongue stroked long and slow and hot against her. The overwhelming, sliding heat spread out to meet Une’s palm massaging her stomach, undoing the tightness even as the soft, wet stroking wound pleasure through her until she thought she would snap from it.

Heat again.

Lisa moaned low in her throat, feeling her body open out, straining outward against the stroke of Une’s tongue until everything recoiled and Lisa was caught up in long waves of burning, drowning sensation.

Her breath returned to her slowly.

“That was… pretty incredible,” she whispered against Une’s shoulder.

“I had hoped it might be,” Une purred back. “Though it’s a shame to dilute the taste of you. You taste like the open ocean.”

Lisa smiled and kissed Une deeply, pressing her back against the cushions. She traced Une’s lips with the tip of her tongue as she slid a hand down Une’s body, pressing between her legs which Une parted readily. She rubbed a fingertip lightly against the slick wetness there, and Une tossed her head back.

“Lisa…” she sighed, reaching up.

Lisa kissed her again, winding her tongue around Une’s, as she slid her fingers slowly into the heat of Une’s body, swallowing Une’s long moan into their kiss. Une rocked up to meet the thrust of Lisa’s fingers, faster, asking for more, and Lisa twisted her hand gently, spreading her fingers against the grip of Une’s body, plunging down faster, harder, until Une arched, clenched, over and over.

Lisa held Une as she settled, shivering slightly from her release, and waited until her bittersweet brown eyes opened.

Une smiled and pulled Lisa down so they could lie nestled against each other.

“Your peppermint is probably undrinkable by now,” she remarked, drowsily.

“I can make more. Later.” Lisa rubbed her cheek against Une’s shoulder. Une stroked the back of her neck.

“You know,” Lisa added after a moment, voice thoughtful, “maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for Roy and Treize to meet. They might just be so taken up with trying to get the better of each other that they wouldn’t bother with the rest of the world. And if they get along half as well as we do, well, maybe Treize could actually get Roy to unwind a little.”

“If anyone could…” Une agreed.

A tiny smile curved Lisa’s lips. “He’d probably get a bit of a surprise if he did of course…”

A wicked light gleamed in both women’s eyes as they looked at each other for a long moment before they broke down giggling in each other’s arms.

Epilogue

Treize Kushurenada took a sip of his drink and shook his head at his companion. “That really wasn’t a very nice thing to do, Roy.”

Roy slanted a sideways look at him. “As if you’re one to talk. Besides,” he added, “she needed something light to distract her after she had to stand and watch me put my head in the lion’s mouth. You know what they’re like about that kind of thing.”

Roy watched the blue eyes go slightly distant.

“Yes,” Treize admitted softly, “I know. What are you going to do when she finds out, though?”

Roy examined his glass.

“Duck quickly, I suppose. Or offer another distraction. I’m sure something will come to me.”

He caught Treize’s eye and they shared a nearly identical smirk across the table.

End


Branch: *perfectly calm* That was not a suggestion for a sequel. You are not suggesting that I let the two of you try to out-sultry each other on paper. It would be a fire hazard.

Treize: To be sure not, Madam! You’ve already heaped such unlooked for treasure upon me, I would never so presume.

Roy: Indeed.

Branch: *eyes characters mistrustfully*

Roy: *slow grin* Whether or not your write down what we’re doing is entirely up to you, Madam.

Branch: *hand over eyes*

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Jan 29, 04
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Sticky

Porn Without Plot, mildly kinky, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Normally Ed liked summer, but East City was in the middle of a bona fide heat wave and he’d had just about enough. He’d stripped down to his lightest shirt and boxers and was still sweltering. Going to the library wasn’t to be thought of. He’d set one foot into the airless, baking-hot rooms and retreated hastily.

It was weather like this that made him consider the benefits of cutting off all his hair.

Somewhere in this city there had to be someplace a little bit cool, he thought desperately.

Maybe it was heat-stroke, or maybe simply a measure of true desperation, but the next thought to occur to him was Roy. Roy will at least have a fan going. Which, it had to be admitted, no one left in the headquarters dormitories seemed to.

He made his way, slowly, to Roy’s house, trying to exert the least effort necessary. He didn’t bother with any more clothes than he’d had on already; the few people actually on the street in this heat were wearing even less. He let himself in and followed the whirring sound to find Roy on the back porch.

Sure enough, he was lying, shirtless, directly in the path of a large fan. In addition, he had propped open the door of the small icebox that normally held drinks. Today it held what looked like several boxes worth of popsicles. Going by the testimony of the wrappers scattered about, Roy had polished off a box or two already.

One half of his latest snack was lying on its wrapper just inside the icebox, while the other was poised above Roy’s mouth as he looked up rather languidly at the intrusion.

Ed didn’t bother with a greeting, just swooped down on the spare popsicle and stayed sprawled in front of the open door.

“Nice to see you, too, Edward-kun, do come in and make yourself comfortable,” Roy murmured.

Ed mumbled indecipherable thanks around the popsicle and flopped over onto his back. The ice was wonderfully cold, and he had to resist the urge to lay it over his forehead. He’d only feel hotter for the stickiness when it melted. The chill air washing out from the icebox was absolutely glorious, though, and Ed sighed happily as he pulled the popsicle almost out of his mouth and then sucked it back in. He tried to remember the last time he’d had popsicles. It had been a while; they didn’t travel well.

He took the ice out of his mouth and looked over to thank Roy for letting him intrude. Roy’s expression stopped him with his mouth still open. Roy’s eyes were half-lidded and he had a very recognizable quirk to his lips.

Ed contemplated the thought of rolling around on the floor here with Roy, getting hot and sweaty all over again. He didn’t think today was the day for that. Time for a strategic retreat.

“Surely there’s no need to hurry so on such a lazy day, Edward-kun?” Roy asked as Ed gathered his feet under him. His voice was low and soft, and made Ed hesitate just a bit.

“Well… I don’t… heek!

Roy’s fingers hooked the waist of Ed’s boxers. Ed started, and the angle conspired against both of them. One squawk and several hops later Roy was left holding the garment in question and Ed was free to make a break for it.

Except that Roy was holding the garment in question.

He’d seen less clothed people on the way over, to be sure, but it had usually been the other end that was bare.

As Ed paused, trying to decide whether to jump Roy in an effort to regain his clothing, or make a dash upstairs to appropriate some of Roy’s, Roy rose. He plucked Ed’s popsicle out of his fingers, wrapped one arm around Ed’s chest and pulled him back against Roy’s body.

And something else.

Ed’s breath stopped in shock as something long and icy slid between his cheeks.

“Is that cooler, Edward?” Roy asked.

Any answer Ed might have made was lost in his groan as Roy’s mouth, also cold, closed on his neck. And now that Ed wasn’t in any shape to go anywhere Roy’s arm loosened and his other hand dropped down to draw patterns over Ed’s thighs and stomach with his own popsicle.

Ed’s legs gave way.

He found himself on knees and elbows on the floor, Roy behind him, Roy’s fingers spreading him open, rubbing that slick cold back and forth. As the popsicle melted it trickled down between his legs, dripping off him. The faint, faint sensation made Ed nearly frantic for a firmer touch, for Roy’s hand to finger him, stroke him hard.

“Roy…” he managed to gasp as his lover drew the ice away, slowly, lingering against his entrance.

“No need to hurry, didn’t we agree Edward?” Roy whispered.

Roy…”

And then Roy’s tongue was on him, burning in contrast to the cold before, lapping away the run-off of the popsicle, twisting, probing, teasing. Ed dropped his head down to his crossed wrists and tried to remember how to breathe. Roy’s hand closed around him, thumb running down his length, and Ed stopped caring about breathing.

He spread his legs wider, squirming back against Roy’s touch, silently asking for more, but Roy seemed to be in a mood today. His tongue and hands stayed slow, caressing, wringing aching moans from Ed without holding out any promise of release anytime soon.

God, Roy,” he gasped raggedly, at last, “stop teasing and fuck me!”

Roy’s hands tensed on him, and Ed knew then that he could end this in his own favor right now.

“Fuck me, Roy,” he repeated, letting his voice grow husky, letting it show need. “I want you inside me. Hard. Fast. So deep I can taste you.” Roy was leaning against him now. “Just do it. Fuck me hard, Roy. Now. Please.”

Ed.”

Roy’s voice was breathless. This was Ed’s trump card, rarely played, that he could get Roy to do just about anything by asking for it out loud. Roy’s hands closed on his hips and Roy was pushing into him, slick and hard, and Ed pushed back. This time, Roy answered him, thrusting deep and fast, rough and hot inside of Ed. Spikes of pleasure tightened Ed’s muscles loosened his body, and Roy’s hand closing in a fist over Ed’s length was the only thing that kept Roy from fucking Ed flat into the floor. Roy’s touch, inside and out, so hard, so intense, narrowed his world down, down, until the rush of heat overwhelmed him completely.

When Ed remembered how to open his eyes he found himself lying on his side, Roy curled up behind him, both of them panting and, he’d know it!, covered in sweat.

“Hope you’re satisfied,” he mumbled.

“Entirely.” In fact, Roy sounded downright satiated. “And you, Edward?”

“Mmmm. Suppose so.” Ed knew perfectly well that Roy would hear the smile in his voice. He stretched and made a face. “More so if I wasn’t all sweaty and sticky now.”

He couldn’t quite suppress a purr as Roy nibbled on his neck, though.

“Well, come on, then.”

Ed gave Roy a disbelieving look as Roy climbed to his feet and held out a hand. Roy just smirked. Grudgingly Ed let himself be pulled up and, less grudgingly, full length against Roy’s body. Disregarding the heat for a moment he wound his arms around his lover’s neck and looked up at Roy through his lashes. That got him a slow kiss, and Ed chuckled low in his throat at the sweetness lingering on Roy’s mouth.

“So why,” he asked against Roy’s lips, “did you want me to stand up when you’ve just made me kind of reluctant to walk for a while?”

“I thought you might like a cool shower to wash off the stickiness.”

Ed was sure, from the way Roy started laughing, that he must have given him an absolutely starry-eyed look. At the moment he didn’t care.

He ordered slightly rubbery legs to work and hauled the still laughing Roy toward the bathroom.

End


Ed: *gives author the evil eye*

Branch: What? You waived the No Kinky Stuff rule almost two weeks ago!

Gracia: *taps toe*

Branch: Coming, coming. Jeez, you guys are demanding.

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 01, 04
Name (optional):
Liana, Glow, Glow, Lyricality, sexkitten426, XxhexerxX, daxion and 8 other readers sent Plaudits.

Wet

Porn With Insights, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Roy was smirking at him.

For once, Ed didn’t care.

He fiddled with the taps until the shower was just over body heat and settled down to luxuriate and ignore his lover. He stretched up on his toes, held his hands up to the spray, turned around twice and finally stood with his back to it and his head bent and resting on Roy’s convenient shoulder.

“You look like a cat that’s just discovered a catnip patch,” Roy informed him.

Ed sniffed. Roy fingered the end of his braid.

“Did you know that stuff got into your hair?”

“And whose fault is that?” Ed asked with a mild glare.

“Shall I make it up to you?” Roy reached around Ed and started unravelling his braid.

“Ha. I know you just like to play with my hair for your own fun.”

“That, too,” Roy admitted quite calmly, and closed both hands around Ed’s chin to tilt his head back into the spray. Ed closed his eyes, and Roy’s fingers slid back into his hair.

Ed was not entirely surprised to feel Roy’s mouth against his. He was a bit surprised at how soft the kiss was, even when he parted his lips under Roy’s. Roy’s tongue stroked his delicately, and Ed leaned against him. He had to smile into the kiss, as their bodies pressed together; however light Roy’s touch was, he clearly wasn’t in a platonic mood.

“No one would think you were over thirty,” he remarked dryly as Roy drew back.

“No one would think you were under twenty,” Roy returned, “at least until they saw you in a temper tantrum.”

Ed growled, and then sighed as Roy started working shampoo into his hair. The long fingers combing through the strands and firmly massaging his scalp drew small happy noises out of him.

“Ahh… mmmm… hhmmm…”

He had no doubt Roy was smirking again, and he still didn’t care.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Roy directed, wrapped one arm around Ed’s waist and leaned him back to rinse the suds out. “There.”

“You’re being awfully accommodating, considering the mood you were in earlier,” Ed noted.

“Ah? Well, it’s so rare that you ask me for anything, I thought it might be a good idea to supply some encouragement. Now,” a glint entered Roy’s eye, “did you want help reaching any of the other sticky bits?”

Ed blushed, and plucked a washcloth off its rail to throw in Roy’s face. Roy fielded it, laughing.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He swiped the cloth through his soap dish.

“Excuse me?” Ed employed a trick he’d learned from watching Roy to look down his nose at the taller man.

The smirk faded as Roy trailed two fingers down Ed’s jawline. “Edward. Won’t you let me?”

Life would be simpler, Ed reflected, if that particular trump card didn’t affect him just as powerfully as it did Roy. He glanced aside and laid a hand on Roy’s chest.

The cloth started at his neck, rough and soft and slick with soap, moved down to his chest, scrubbing gentle circles, more firmly over his stomach to keep from tickling. Ed expected Roy to keep moving down, but instead he swept back up to Ed’s shoulder, stroked down his arm, lingering at the inside of his elbow, again inside his wrist. Roy took Ed’s hand in his and turned it up. Ed watched Roy’s fingers in the blue terrycloth as they drew circles in his palm, watched as Roy drew the cloth around each of Ed’s own fingers, because he couldn’t watch Roy’s eyes.

Roy was usually a playful lover, and that suited Ed just fine. He could get introspection and soul-searching any time, he didn’t need them in bed. Every now and then, though, Roy’s dark eyes turned serious and his touch became… overwhelming was the word, Ed decided. At those times it felt like Roy focused every iota of his attention on nothing but Ed.

It was times like this that Ed took the joking rumor that Roy wanted to take over the whole military completely seriously. Roy almost frightened him like this.

Ed shivered as Roy let his hand go with a last caress. Roy turned them around, and gathered Ed’s hair over his shoulder. Ed let Roy draw him closer and arched into the faint scratchiness of the washcloth as it moved down his back.

He tensed, though, as Roy’s hand descended further. However much he’d wanted it, and God had he wanted it, their previous activities had still left him very tender.

“Roy…”

“I know,” Roy murmured in his ear. “It’s all right.”

Indeed, Roy’s touch was soft and light, and Ed relaxed as the soapy cloth moved slowly over his rear. He wrapped his arms around Roy’s shoulders and let Roy take his weight as his legs twinged and twitched and relaxed too. The nubby texture was rather soothing, though Roy’s hand stroking him there was… not exactly soothing. Roy held him securely, lingering with the cloth until Ed was flushed and panting against him. Finally he took his hand away, only to bend his head and suck on Ed’s earlobe. Another shiver danced down Ed’s spine.

“Can you stand?”

Ed scraped together the coordination to raise a brow. “You ask me that now?”

Roy leaned in swiftly and captured Ed’s mouth, and pulled a short, startled sound out of him. It wasn’t a hard kiss, quite the opposite. Roy’s lips slid over his languidly and his tongue twisted around Ed’s, coaxing him. It wasn’t hard, but it was one of the deepest, most thorough kisses he could remember Roy giving him.

“That isn’t helping with the standing up thing,” he pointed out, shakily, as Roy released him.

“We can work around that.”

Roy backed him up against the wall of the shower, and Ed took a moment to enjoy the cool tile against his shoulders. Then he blinked as Roy sank to his knees. Roy offered him a lazy smile as he ran the washcloth down Ed’s leg, back up, down the back of his thigh, rubbing gently behind his knee. Ed locked his other leg and put out a hand to brace himself as Roy lifted his foot and the rough cloth wrapped around his arch and between his toes.

Roy set his foot down, and ran his free hand down Ed’s stomach, and that was as much warning as Ed got before Roy’s mouth closed around his cock.

“Haah!” Ed tossed his head back, right hand scraping against the tiles behind him.

The heat of Roy’s mouth always shocked him, and twice as much now for being unexpected. The slide of Roy’s tongue, the pull of his lips as he drew back, the rush as he sucked Ed in again, wiped away everything but sensation. Ed couldn’t have said for sure whether his eyes were open or not. Roy worked him slowly, until Ed was shaking, aware that every breath was a moan and not caring. Finally he felt Roy run the cloth up his thigh, between his legs, pressing, rubbing, just there, and he felt the very edge of Roy’s teeth, and was swept under as fire rushed down his nerves.

He was distantly grateful that Roy stood quickly enough to keep him from collapsing; his knees were a bit tender, too, banging them against tile wouldn’t be fun. He leaned into Roy’s arms, collecting himself again.

“My hair is half-dry now; it’ll be a tangled mess,” was the first thing out of his mouth.

“I’ll comb it for you,” Roy offered quietly.

Ed lifted his head from Roy’s shoulder to look up at his lover. Roy combing Ed’s hair was normally the one gesture of non-sexual intimacy they indulged in, but at the moment it almost seemed like too much. Too close. Too overwhelming.

Roy waited, not saying anything more.

Ed sighed and put his head back down. “Only fair.”

They didn’t bother with towels; it was too much trouble. Roy got them both to the bedroom, staggering only slightly, and settled Ed on the bed. Ed let his eyes drift closed as Roy carefully combed out the tangles. The slightly muzzy thought occurred to him that Roy must be good at it because of all the real life practice he got. People must be harder than hair, right? Maybe that was why Roy was so edgy at work.

He felt a hand touch his cheek and opened his eyes to find Roy sitting in front of him. He promptly stretched out against him, pushing Roy over so Ed could use his shoulder as a pillow. Roy chuckled and gathered Ed to him, stroking his hair back. The water still dripping from both of them made it cool enough that Ed enjoyed the embrace. He wouldn’t be surprised of that was exactly why Roy had neglected to dry them off. Roy was always considerate in bed, even in his somewhat alarming serious moods; in fact, Ed reflected, he was even more careful then, as if he were trying not to scare Ed. And while part of Ed growled at the thought, a slightly more objective part of him was glad for Roy’s caution.

“How can you be so gentle when we’re like this and such an utter bastard everywhere else?” Ed wondered out loud.

“How can you be so pliant here and so sharp and hard everywhere else?” Roy asked back.

“Pliant?!”

Roy rolled them over until his weight pressed down on Ed.

“What shall I call it, then?” he inquired, brushing a thumb over Ed’s mouth.

“Nice?” Ed hazarded, just a touch breathless. This was part of what disconcerted him when Roy turned so serious… not just overwhelming, but overpowering, and he found himself liking it.

“As you like. It was a serious answer, though, Ed.”

Ed looked up, considering. Why was he like this with Roy? Because it was a time he could relax. There were more complex reasons, revolving around Roy being his sponsor, his annoying commander who shielded him from the whole rest of the military, the one who cheerfully used Ed’s abilities for his own ends and threw all his considerable resources behind Ed’s own search. But it really came down to that one thing, in the end; when he was with Roy like this he could relax.

It was the first time he really wondered when Roy might have a chance to relax.

“…thought it might be a good idea to supply some encouragement.”

Ed eyed his lover thoughtfully.

“Roy?”

Roy’s fingertips traced the outline of Ed’s face. “Hmm?”

“Kiss me?”

For a flashing moment Roy’s eyes turned soft. He leaned down and, for the first time since they stepped into the shower, kissed Ed with no restraint.

End

Last Modified: Apr 25, 12
Posted: Feb 05, 04
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Ever – Chapter One

After a year staying with Winry and Pinako Rockbell, Ed and Al return to Central with Winry to settle for a while. Roy pays them a visit… Drama, I-3

Roy Mustang stood in the street and looked up at a large, though unpretentious, brick house. He had hoped he might not have to come here. But after a year of listening to rumors and whispers, of fielding more and less subtle inquiries, he had finally decided there was no choice after all.

Edward and Alphonse Elric had returned to Central City.

No choice, he reminded himself, and knocked briskly on the door. He heard an unfamiliar voice approaching.

“…don’t be ridiculous, Nii-san, there are plenty of reasons why it could be… Mustang-junsho?”

Roy couldn’t stop a smile, and didn’t really want to. In the door stood a rather lanky boy, blond hair cropped short, honey colored eyes dark with surprise, hand frozen on the doorknob. His voice sounded very different without the overlying echo the armor had given it, and it was lower now than it had been.

“Alphonse. You’re looking well.”

Considerably better than the last time he had seen Fullmetal’s brother, two days after the transmutation, when Alphonse had been indulging in some well-deserved hysterics. Alphonse blinked at him.

“Ah, I’m sorry, come in, please!”

Roy stepped inside and found Edward… Fullmetal leaning in the entry of the vestibule. He looked very much his usual self.

“Plenty of reasons, huh?” he muttered. “Well, at least it means I don’t have to hike to headquarters to give you back the damn watch.”

“Indeed, that was what I came to discuss,” Roy told him agreeably.

“Well, come in, come in,” Alphonse shooed them all into an airy living room.

Roy was entertained to note that his time as a large suit of armor had apparently left Alphonse with an ingrained assumption that people would go where he directed them, which, of course, nearly everyone then did. Fullmetal, however, was not looking so welcoming. He caught it, then. Sharp as always.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Fullmetal bit out, confirming Roy’s guess. “I’ve gotten what I need, and you’ve gotten your money’s worth out of us. Enough is enough.”

“Hm. That’s too bad,” Roy mused, leaning against a high-backed couch. “It will be a terrible shame for such a dedicated scholar to work without the resources of the National Library.”

A corner of Roy’s mouth twitched as longing flashed over Fullmetal’s face. Now to see if that would be enough…

“Mustang-junsho.” Alphonse’s voice sliced through the developing confrontation.

Roy suppressed a start. In the past Alphonse had rarely interrupted his brother’s arguments with Roy, and never in such a cold voice. A single look showed that Alphonse was not amused by the way the conversation had turned. That wasn’t a source of interference Roy had expected. Ah, well.

“Alphonse, have I offered my congratulations yet? You must be very relieved to be returned to your proper body,” he noted casually.

Fullmetal wasn’t the only Elric who was fast on the uptake. Alphonse’s eyes narrowed, and he suddenly resembled his brother far more strongly.

“Al,” Fullmetal cut in, voice low.

The brothers locked eyes in a moment of silent communication, and Alphonse nodded. “I’ll be upstairs helping Winry unpack, then,” he said, throwing a last warning look over his shoulder at Roy as he left.

Fullmetal turned to Roy, face still.

“Was that a threat?”

“No, actually, it wasn’t.” Roy passed a hand through his hair and heaved a silent sigh. Alphonse had broken his rhythm, now how to retrieve it?

“Junsho, just tell me why you’re here,” Fullmetal snapped.

Roy regarded him thoughtfully. It wasn’t an approach he had really considered, but Fullmetal was getting old enough that it might work. The fact that he hadn’t completely lost his temper yet was an encouraging sign.

“Very well. I’m here because you will not be able to leave.”

Fullmetal froze. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how much you thought about what might happen afterward, if you succeeded in returning Alphonse’s body, but in the course of your search you’ve become very well known. The military will not be particularly willing to let an alchemist of your power out of its control. Even if they were, other interests would be quick to close in on you.”

Roy shook his head at Fullmetal’s wide eyes. He had been right; this was coming as a surprise.

“They can’t force me,” Fullmetal whispered.

Roy quashed his mild disgust at such naivete. It was probably just denial, because he knew Fullmetal was more intelligent than that.

“Many would probably use the fastest method and threaten your brother to win your compliance. While that would be a foolish thing,” he continued over Fullmetal’s snarl, “there are a great many fools in this world, and I assure you they will all be drawn to you like iron to a magnet.”

Roy wondered, with an academic sort of interest, whether Fullmetal would let go of the chair before he broke the back off. The grip of his right hand was making the wood creak.

“So,” Fullmetal finally ground out, “you’re saying that since I’m going to be manipulated by someone I might as well keep being manipulated by you?”

Roy tilted his head. “Effectively, yes.”

Wood splintered.

Roy let his own expression cool and cut across Fullmetal’s incensed inhalation. “Power like yours, once known, will not be let to lie.”

“So I should just resign myself to being a tool?!” Fullmetal spat.

“You are a tool,” Roy told him, bluntly. “For the last four years you’ve been my tool. You knew it. That was the bargain we made, the condition I set against the one you set. That bargain is done, though. Now it’s time to choose again how you will be used.”

Absolute rage filled Fullmetal’s eyes, and Roy had a moment’s doubt whether he was really ready for this much truth. Well, nothing for it now but to go on. He kept an eye on Fullmetal’s hands, which were flexing a bit ominously. Time for a suggestion, perhaps.

“If you don’t wish to be the tool of another, become your own.”

Puzzlement slowed the momentum of Fullmetal’s anger. “What do you mean?”

“You had a purpose all this time, and you let me use your power only in service of it,” Roy pointed out. “Fine. You succeeded; choose a new purpose.”

“And let whoever I need to make it happen manipulate me in service of that one?” Fullmetal asked, rather skeptically. “Why?”

One side of Roy’s mouth curled up as he contemplated the boy in front of him. He was impressed that Fullmetal had realized just how vulnerable his obsession had made him. “If you don’t want to be manipulated, then learn the steps of this dance, Fullmetal. Until you do someone else will always be calling your measures. In the meantime, would it be so terrible to continue lending yourself to my ends? You haven’t found them distasteful so far, and I have the influence to keep others away from you for a while.”

Fullmetal paced two turns around the room before he stopped and looked sidelong at Roy. “Your ends? What are your ends? You’ve used me blind long enough. Tell me what it is you want me for.”

Roy was pleased. He hadn’t actually expected Fullmetal to make that leap. “Youswell, Aquroya, Zenotime,” he recited quietly. “Lior. Do you remember Lior, Fullmetal?”

Fullmetal flinched and looked away.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Roy told him. “Do you remember everything that happened there?”

Fullmetal frowned at him. “Yes,” he answered slowly.

“You can say as often as you wish that you only interfered because that Priest had a Stone,” Roy’s mouth quirked, “to others. But don’t think you can lie to me. You would have interfered in any case, because you saw something happening that was wrong.”

Fullmetal opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. Roy smiled thinly.

“The notable thing, Fullmetal, is that you interfered successfully. You left chaos behind you, yes, but if it had not been for… other interference Lior would have sorted out its own affairs. That’s what I value. Your potential for creating useful chaos.”

Fullmetal leaned against a window while he processed this. “Stir up the mud so you can shape it the way you want it?” he summarized at last.

“I shape very little outside of the military itself, Fullmetal. I just want you to stir up the water so it flows downhill.”

Roy waited with practiced patience for Fullmetal to make up his mind about all this. He had better make up his mind now, because that was all the information Roy intended to part with at the moment. After another couple turns around the room Fullmetal slowed and stood still, staring at nothing.

“Learn the steps, huh?” he murmured at length.

When Fullmetal looked around at him Roy had to lift a brow. The gold eyes were gleaming, focused, as determined as Roy had ever seen them. Something had obviously been decided on.

“Show me.”

The other brow joined the first.

“A new bargain? That’s it. You know the steps. So show me. And I’ll run your damn errands for you.”

A slow smile tugged at Roy’s mouth. That had… potential. “A worthy bargain,” he agreed softly, and held out his hand.

Fullmetal’s closed around it and they both nodded.

And then Fullmetal broke away to shove a hand through his hair. “Al’s going to kill me,” he muttered.

“He looked more like he wanted to kill me, something I hope you will now be willing to dissuade him from,” Roy remarked.

Fullmetal shot him an unfriendly look. “That’ll be easier if you’re not here. I’ll come in tomorrow.”

Roy allowed himself to be escorted out and didn’t laugh until the door closed behind him.

TBC

Last Modified: Oct 03, 07
Posted: Feb 06, 04
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Ever – Chapter Two

Ed makes the decision to continue protecting his brother. Drama, I-3

Ed looked with dislike at the innocent wooden door in front of him. On the other side of it waited the beginning of the rest of his life, for what he was glumly sure would be years.

At least he had managed to persuade Al to stay home and help Winry calibrate her drill-press.

Unable to find a reason to delay any longer, Ed pushed open the door.

“Good morning, Fullmetal,” the General said without looking up from his papers.

Ed kicked the door shut behind him and slumped into the couch. The General’s mouth quirked.

“Starting my new collection of scuff marks already?”

Ed sniffed. “So? Where do you want me to go rake things up? I’m sure you have an itemized list.”

The General tented his hands. “Loose ends first. An exercise for you. What are you going to do about Alphonse?”

Cryptic and obscure as always, Ed reflected with irritation. Sometimes he really thought Mustang had been reading alchemical manuscripts for too long.

The General waved as it to brush Ed’s annoyance aside. “If you really don’t understand I’ll explain, but I need to know how much you see on your own.”

What will I do about Al? I’ll keep him out of this! Ed voiced these sentiments. “As long as I’m being visible, everyone will pay less attention to Al. There was no reason for him to become the military’s dog then, and there’s less now.”

“And your shadow over him will be his protection.” The General nodded. “A good start. Now, what will you tell people about his appearance?”

Ed blinked.

“His appearance has changed rather drastically,” Mustang pointed out with exaggerated patience. “You will need to have a reason for those who ask, if you don’t want anyone to start putting pieces together and suspecting the real reason. If you become seriously suspected of having performed human transmutation and reversed it nothing will keep the two of you out of a locked room somewhere in this building for the rest of your lives.”

Ed, who had bridled at the sarcasm, stopped and thought. This was why he was here, to learn how to think of and prevent these things. And it was a familiar consideration, after all; just in a different form now. If Al really had been wearing armor why would he have stopped?

Well, there was always…

Ed started snickering. Before long he was leaning on the arm of the couch, clutching his stomach and chortling.

“Share the joke?” the General requested mildly.

“Oh, Al really would kill me,” Ed gasped.

The General waited.

“Winry!” Ed squeaked, and lost it again.

The General tapped his fingers on his desk and narrowed his eyes. Ed pulled himself together. “If Winry thought he looked better without the armor, and Al liked Winry…” Ed trailed off suggestively. He was positive that his brother did, in fact, like Winry, though he wasn’t sure Al had sorted that out for himself yet. And he really wasn’t sure that Winry, mechanical geek that she was, would have any objection at all to a well-crafted suit of armor. She could be so weird.

“The only problem,” he continued, “besides the killing-me part when Al found out I started the rumor, is that both of them would be utterly clueless if anyone mentioned it to them. Or else utterly embarrassed. And then we’re back to Al killing me.”

“That would actually be very much in character if it were true,” the General observed. “You have a natural talent for more than alchemy, I see.”

Ed stared. “You’re not serious.”

The General returned his look evenly. “Do you disagree with my evaluation?”

“No,” Ed said slowly, “it would be… in character. But…”

But to use their reactions like that, to look at something so sweet and see it as nothing but another bit of verisimilitude… He swallowed against a sudden bitterness in his throat. “Do you think like this all the time?” he asked, strangled.

“Very nearly,” Mustang replied, cool and matter-of-fact. When Ed shuddered he relented somewhat. “The path you’ve chosen this time isn’t an easy or bright one, Fullmetal, any more than the last one. It’s no shame if you refuse to walk it. Quite the reverse, much of the time.”

Ed shut his eyes and thought back on the last four years. Al had protected his heart, he knew that, knew it was the only reason the pettiness and greed and horror he had stumbled through hadn’t made him crazier than that mad Ishvarite they had crossed paths with. Could Al protect him from this? Could he protect Al?

How else could he protect Al, than this?

“I won’t be used,” he managed, finally. “And I will not let Al be used.”

“Then your first lesson is concluded, Fullmetal.”

Ed looked at the General, feeling sick. The man’s voice gentled a bit.

“Visit the library on your way home; there are some additions to the Main branch I think you’ll enjoy.”

Ed scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling a wry smile take hold. Mustang knew him very well, he had to admit. Few things soothed him more than a few hours in a library. And he needed some peace badly enough not to kick over the source of the suggestion.

“Yeah.”

Ed closed the door silently behind him as he left.


“I’m home,” Ed called as he closed the front door.

“Welcome back, Nii-san, you’re just in time for lunch,” Al called from the direction of the kitchen.

With luck, Ed reflected, that meant that Winry was still taken up with hanging her wrenches in the fourth bedroom that had quickly become her workshop, or re-wiring the lighting in the sitting room they had chosen as her new operating room. Anywhere but near the food.

Sure enough, Al was alone in the kitchen, putting the finishing touch on sandwiches and a plate of sliced fruit. Ed leaned in the doorway, smiling, relaxing. Even after a year to get used to it the sight of Al in his proper body was enough to wipe away his darkest thoughts.

“How was your meeting with Mustang-junsho?”

Ed’s mouth twisted for a moment. Almost enough. But he had done this once, and the results had justified every second of pain and effort as far as he was concerned. It would be worth it this time, too. He would make sure of it.

He started to set the table so that Al might not see his expression. “Pretty well, I suppose.”

“Will you tell me, now, why you’re doing this, Nii-san?” Al asked quietly, as he handed over the napkins.

Ed winced. So much for concealing things. Al always managed to know what he was thinking. He sighed and leaned on the counter. “Because I think he told me the truth.”

Al waited him out.

“He said we’re too well known and won’t be left alone if we don’t have a strong sponsor.”

“You think he can see to it we’re left alone?”

Ed saw the sharp edge of his expression reflected in Al’s concerned eyes. “Yes,” he answered, low and definite. “He can.”

I can.

Al looked at him silently for a long moment. “All right,” he said finally. He came to lay a hand on Ed’s shoulder. “Be careful, all right?”

Gratitude lightened Ed’s mood, that Al would let him have his not-a-secret. He grinned and grabbed his little brother in a bear hug. He was stronger, even if Al was two inches taller.

“Ack! Nii-san!” Al laughed, and hugged back.

“You two are so cute,” Winry commented from the doorway.

“Winry!” Ed exclaimed, fighting down a blush. “I am not cute!”

Al cut off whatever comment Winry’s evil grin had been about to transform into. “Lunch is ready.”

Distracted, Winry made for the table.

“Ah, this looks wonderful, Al, you’re such a good cook!” She bit into her sandwich and looked blissful.

Ed snorted. “You’re going to gain even more weight eating like that,” he prodded.

Winry’s eyes flashed.

“Nii-san,” Al sighed. “Stop teasing Winry and eat.”

Winry settled a bit and sniffed. “Yes, Ed, do what Al says; he’s the sensible one, after all. It’s really no wonder everyone takes him for the older brother.”

Ed growled around his sandwich, not appreciating the reminder that that still happened.

“So, is it only going to be your name up on the sign, Al?” Winry asked around a slice of apple.

Initially, of course, both brothers had planned to advertise for clients.

“Looks like it,” Al agreed. “Alphonse Elric, Alchemist, and Winry Rockbell, Automail Mechanic.”

Winry’s starry eyes made it clear that she was momentarily distracted from teasing by thoughts of the small nest-egg her grandmother had given her, and the vote of confidence implied by it when Winry had said she wanted to come to Central City with the Elric brothers. Happy memories contemplated, though, she turned back to Ed. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, Ed, I know for a fact the money doesn’t mean a thing to you.”

Ed heaved an extravagant sigh and ran through his reasoning for a second time. Fortunately, Winry didn’t know him quite as well as Al and didn’t question him, though her eyes darkened a bit when Mustang’s name came up.

“That bites,” she opined bluntly. “But if that’s the way it is, I suppose there’s no help for it. At least there are two of us to look after you, now.”

Al smiled at this declaration of alliance.

Ed groaned.

TBC

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 06, 04
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Ever – Chapter Three

Everyone starts to see the shape of the future. Drama, I-3

The Elrics had often been welcome guests at the Hughes residence, and since they had moved to Central their visits had come more frequently.

Often around dinner time.

It was not unusual for them to encounter Roy there, much to Gracia’s amusement. Their current visit was no exception on either of those counts. This particular weekend, though, Hughes and Gracia played host to a full-fledged party held for three reasons.

One, It was the middle of summer and the best time to cook and eat all kinds of messy foods outside.

Two, Fullmetal had returned from a three week trip to a small mountain town which had featured a nasty feud, the participants of which were now all hospitalized much to the merriment of their neighbors.

And three, Roy Mustang had been promoted.

He and Hughes leaned on the porch rail, taking a break from the activity out in the yard. Havok and Gracia were beside the firepit, probably debating whether the marinade needed another dash of vinegar to be perfect. Fury and Farman were cornered by Armstrong, and starting to look desperate. Hawkeye and Ross were leaning against an old maple tree comparing the merits of ale versus porter; the ice chest was sitting in the shade beside them to facilitate their discussion and no one had been fool enough to challenge them for possession of it yet. Elysia had teamed up with Black Hayate to chase the Elric brothers and their housemate in energetic circles.

Elysia squealed with glee as Fullmetal turned at bay to scoop her up and toss her in the air.

“Winry-neechan! Help, help!”

Winry Rockbell had a decidedly evil smile when she was bent on mischief, Roy thought. She and Fullmetal were a good match for each other.

She obviously knew where he was ticklish, for one thing.

The entire lot of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and barking as Black Hayate jumped in. Fullmetal eventually extracted himself and collapsed in the shadow of the porch to catch his breath while Elysia dragged his brother and the girl off to see her new slide.

“How do you keep up with her?” Roy asked his friend.

“Most of the time I don’t,” Hughes admitted, smiling.

Elysia came galloping back to try to reclaim her errant playmate. Fullmetal staged an elaborate mock death to convince her how much she’d worn him out.

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be along,” he promised when she pouted mightily at him.

“Ok. Hurry, though, Ed-niisan! We’re by the flowers; here, so you remember.” She deposited a sloppy circlet of flowers on Fullmetal’s head and ran off.

Slowly, Edward lifted the flowers down and held them in his hands. His eyes darkened, stilled. Roy had seen that look often enough to know that it meant he was thinking of Nina Tucker. Those particular flowers always seemed to do it, the same ones Roy remembered from the remarkable transmutation Fullmetal had performed at his exam.

Hughes apparently knew it too, which didn’t surprise Roy at all.

“Ed-kun,” Hughes called quietly. “It’s summer. And Elysia is my daughter. There’s no need to worry.”

A little of the tension left Edward’s shoulders as he turned, and he managed a small, self-deprecating smile. “Sorry. Am I that obvious?”

“Yes,” Roy answered him.

Fullmetal turned further to look at him, focusing. Roy nodded. “Be careful of that expression when you aren’t among friends.”

Fullmetal’s mouth tightened a fraction and he nodded back. When he stood, though, he paused, staring down at the flowers again. At last he turned back to bend a thoughtful eye on Roy.

“Jun… Shousho.” He was silent for a long moment, and Roy could see one question after another flickering behind his eyes. Then resolution sharpened them.

“If there were another war, a civil war, what would you do? Shousho.”

Roy didn’t know which memory of his own unguarded expressions had started Fullmetal’s train of thought, but he’d certainly hit on the source of just about all of them—that very first deployment in war. Impressive.

“I would stop it.”

Fullmetal met his even gaze with a searching one. Roy wasn’t sure how many of the answers inside that answer Edward found—I’ve killed innocents, Yes I know that guilt, I’m sorry, I hate it, Whatever I have to do—but he seemed to accept whatever he did find. He hesitated, and then tossed the flowers up to Roy before turning to go. An ambiguous gesture, Roy reflected.

“Roy,” Hughes hissed, “what are you doing?”

Roy raised a brow. Hughes frowned at him.

“For a second there he looked just like you!”

“Mm.” Roy pushed away from the rail. “I think it’s about time for another drink. What about you?”

Hazel eyes speared him before his friend agreed. Their path past the ice chest ended by the apple tree where no one would overhear them.

“So?”

Roy took a long drink and sighed. “This was his own choice, Maas, the exchange he asked for.”

“What was, Roy?”

“To learn how to play the game; to keep himself from being played.”

Maas looked sidelong at him. “To learn to be like you?” he asked softly.

“Not exactly, I wouldn’t think,” Roy smiled, but Maas shook his head.

“He’s always worked to meet you on even terms, and now he’s asked you to teach him how to do it and you agreed.” Maas took a long pull of his beer and looked out over the yard to where Winry was showing an entranced Elysia how to take apart the feet of her slide and reset them more securely. The brothers had been drafted as lifters for the effort and Edward, at least, was looking put-upon.

“You agreed,” Maas repeated, “so you must think this is the best thing for them. Why?”

Roy didn’t argue with his friend’s perception; it was invariably a lost cause. “Do you really think it would serve Edward to always rely on my protection? To not have the knowledge to protect himself? Do you think that would serve Alphonse?” He paused. “Or the Rockbell girl?”

“I wondered when she would come into this,” Maas muttered.

Roy reached up to hang the flowers on a low branch. “Edward’s guilt is for omission. Mine is somewhat more direct. I have a responsibility there.” Roy turned the bottle in his hands. “And while Fullmetal has always made his own choices, I accepted a certain responsibility there as well when I took a twelve year old child into my command.”

“He isn’t twelve any more,” Maas observed.

“Precisely.”

A slow and slightly crooked smile took over Maas’ mouth. He leaned against Roy’s shoulder for a second. “You’re too soft hearted for this business, Roy.”

“So are you,” Roy returned, allowing himself a brief, affectionate glance. “But that’s why we’re doing it, after all.”

As Hughes wandered off to distract Gracia from cooking Roy chose a path that took him past the group of youngsters now sitting by the flowerbeds and watching Elysia burn yet more of her infinite store of energy by pestering Hawkeye to show her the right way to climb trees.

“You should get out of the house more, Ed,” Winry was saying, “I know you want to spend as much time with Al as you can since you’re traveling so much, but you can be together without burying yourselves in your library.”

“I do go out,” Fullmetal pointed out carelessly, “Al and I went to the city library just yesterday.”

Roy’s mouth quirked at the fulminating look she gave him. In passing he wondered just how many books the Elrics had acquired in the half year or so since they had moved into a house with room to store them. Fullmetal had been drawing on his research fund more heavily than usual.

“You said you found a nice park the other day, Winry,” Alphonse broke in, ever the peacemaker, “we could take a walk to it tomorrow, since we don’t know when Nii-san will have to leave again.”

“Not for some time,” Roy put in, behind them.

Winry jumped, and both Fullmetal and Alphonse spun around.

“Why, because you’re going to give me a heart attack and make it all beside the point?” Fullmetal snapped.

Roy gave such an unsubtle rejoinder the faint smirk it deserved. “The most meaningful trouble spots have all been… stirred. Your tasks will be here in the city for a while.”

Fullmetal snorted. “I knew you had an itemized list.”

“I never claimed otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah. When do you want me to come in?”

“The beginning of next week will do.”

Fullmetal nodded agreement and waved a hand as if to shoo his commander away. A corner of Roy’s mouth twitched. He offered a short bow to Winry who still looked a bit wide-eyed with surprise and turned to go.

“Shousho.”

Roy looked over his shoulder to find Fullmetal’s eyes fixed on him sharply.

“Would you really?”

Roy heard the rest of the question: would he really stop another civil war. Another Winry. And because it was important for Fullmetal to understand just how much the game he was learning demanded Roy let his smooth expression slip just a bit.

“I would.” Whatever it took, whatever was necessary, even if it cost whatever was left of his soul. And the deeper answer.

I can.

Fullmetal relaxed again and wiggled his fingers to hurry Roy off. Roy chuckled and obliged, though he stopped in the shadow of Gracia’s lilac hedge to make sure all his edges were tucked in again.

Thus, he heard Alphonse, faintly.

“Nii-san, what’s going on?”

“Hm? What do you mean, Al?”

“For a second he looked… he looked just like you do sometimes…”

Dire silence.

“Excuse me?”

While Alphonse hedged a bit at the flat tone in his brother’s voice, Winry chipped in.

“Yeah, actually the two of you are a pretty good match, the way you argue.”

Fullmetal’s outrage turned heads all over the yard. Roy slipped away, shaking his head.

Some things really never did change.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Feb 07, 04
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Ever – Chapter Four

Ed gets a closer look at Roy’s job. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang

Ed rapped briskly on the door of the General’s office as he entered. “So, what’s up for today?” he asked, perching on the arm of the couch.

“Keeping tabs on everyone’s research,” the General responded without looking up. “Particularly the civilian Alchemists like yourself. I’ll start on serving Alchemists tomorrow.” He gathered up a folder and stood, gesturing Ed to come along. “The reason I’m bringing you with me is so that you can observe,” he continued.

Fair enough, Ed thought. “What am I looking for?”

The General’s faint smile roused his wariness. “The keys.”

Ed could really do without all the cryptic word-games, but they seemed to be one of the General’s favorite past-times. The man had bad hobbies. “The keys to what?” he asked with strained patience.

“At each place we visit there will be one individual at the center of the efforts there. Not always the one who controls them, but the center nevertheless. Sometimes it’s the Alchemist. Sometimes a family member. Sometimes their military sponsor. Sometimes someone else entirely. See if you can tell who it is.”

Ed grunted an acknowledgement. He had to admit, when the General finally did break down and explain he did it very well.

“Apart from that, try to be unobtrusive.” He paused to eye Ed up and down before continuing, “Well, as unobtrusive as possible.”

“It isn’t my fault I’m well known,” Ed pointed out a bit acidly, “you’re the one who sent me off on so many high-profile assignments.”

The General gave him a tolerant look. The only way he could have been any more obvious was if he had patted Ed on the head. Ed seethed.

“Not your fault, perhaps, but certainly your own doing, Fullmetal.”

Puzzling out the distinction occupied Ed all the way to the waiting car.


Ed spent the day observing, as directed. Among other things, he observed that most civilian State Alchemists deserved their bad reputation. He had never met so many money-grubbing, recognition-obsessed, amoral flakes in such a short span of time before.

His assigned observation did go reasonably well, however.

He spotted immediately that the man researching metal fusions was working to the direction of his research assistant, who was not himself an alchemist. He correctly guessed that the woman dealing with genetic alterations that might breed true actually answered to no one but herself, and also that the way to handle her would be to play on her pride.

He even got the one he thought must have been a trick question, a suspicion more or less confirmed by the General’s gleaming smile when he admitted that he was, himself, the key for the very old man who researched nothing but how to refine the shapes of alchemical arrays.

“He disliked the former head of Research quite a bit,” was the General’s comment.

Considering how Ed had felt about Gran, he found it hard to blame the man, or be surprised by his enthusiasm for the new officer in charge.

Ed was running about eighty percent accurate, by his calculations, when they arrived at one workshop to find another officer present. The General nodded to the dark man sorting nervously through a stack of papers and returned the officer’s salute.

“Worthing-san, Marsh-shousa, I trust you are both well?”

Ed hung back as pleasentries were exchanged and generalities discussed, trying to pin down the sneaking feeling that he knew this Marsh person from somewhere. Judging from the covert glances Marsh kept giving him, the feeling was mutual.

A passing reference to Gran made it click. Almost five years ago, outside Tucker’s house, Gran had been taking the Alchemist away to some anonymous fate and Ed had argued. One of Gran’s soldiers had restrained him, long enough for the gallant Brigadier General to slug Ed. A rather nondescript soldier—medium complexion, brown hair, brown eyes, square face.

It was him.

And, by the way Worthing kept glancing at Marsh before he answered any question put by Mustang-shousho, Ed would bet Marsh was the key here.

The day just got better and better, he thought, disgusted.

Finally, Marsh looked at Ed directly and essayed a probe. “A new assistant, Mustang-shousho?”

A sudden, evil thought flashed into Ed’s mind. He put on his brightest expression and stepped quickly forward before the General could answer. “Oh, it’s so fascinating to see the range of expertise and research that State Alchemists encompass, Marsh-shousa! It really makes me feel the honor of being part of such an august body.”

The General coughed behind him.

“But, really, Shousa, I’m sure yours must be the hardest job of all,” Ed burbled on, “making sure the results are delivered effectively.” Ed let an edge creep into his voice on that last bit, though he kept his bright expression innocent.

Marsh blinked.

Satisfied, Ed let the General shepherd him out the door, only looking back at the last to offer Marsh a one-sided smile.

“What,” the General wanted to know once they were back in the car, “was that about?”

“Marsh and I have met before.” Ed rubbed a hand over his stomach reminiscently. “He’s the key here, isn’t he?”

The General nodded, still giving Ed a narrow look.

“He was one of Gran’s goons when I first came to Central. Was he put to work with Worthing by Gran, before he was killed?”

The General leaned back and crossed his arms, nodding again.

“Worthing’s the one who took over work on chimera, isn’t he?” Ed sniffed. “No wonder he’s nervous, I bet he’s getting few results if any.”

“I did say you had a talent for this,” the General remarked. “Now answer my question.”

Oh well, it was worth a try, Ed thought resignedly.

“He was the one who held me while Gran punched me,” Ed stated baldly. “I wanted to wind him up.”

The General looked at him for a thoughtful moment before his mouth twitched.

“You want him to wonder and worry whether the now-well-connected Fullmetal Alchemist remembers and holds a grudge.”

“Yep.”

“I’m beginning to think that what you need to work on is less your technique and more your self-control,” the General sighed.

Ed made a non-commital sound as they pulled up to the next destination.


By the time they finally returned to headquarters Ed could barely put one foot in front of the other.

“How often do you do this?” he asked thinly, leaning on the wall while the General unlocked his office.

“Once a month.”

“And again for the serving Alchemists?” Ed resisted an urge to beat his head against the wall.

“You needn’t come along tomorrow,” the General told him, decoding the silent protest. “It would be just as well for that side not to see you with me too often.”

Ed heaved a sigh of relief, and watched, disbelieving, as the General went straight to his desk and started sorting out yet more work. He had an urge to tap on the man to make sure he wasn’t some sort of golem or simulacrum.

And then he saw the General sway just a bit, and put a quick hand out to support himself.

“Shousho.”

Ed looked around, startled, to see Hawkeye standing at the door beside him.

“Yes?” The General looked his normal self again as he turned, but now that Ed was looking for it he could see the tightness around Mustang’s eyes and suspect that he left his hands on the desk because they might not be completely steady.

He did all the talking today, Ed reflected, uneasy, plus a post mortem of every interview in the car afterward.

Hawkeye handed over a sheaf of paper. “His Excellency wishes to speak with you, Sir.”

“Of course.” The General took the papers and walked quite steadily out of the office he’d just returned to.

Hawkeye and Ed both watched him go, Hawkeye with concern plain in her face. Ed didn’t know what his own face might say, but Hawkeye patted his shoulder as she turned to go.

“It will be all right, Edward-kun. You can trust him to allow for having had a long day.”

As Ed left headquarters the General’s words came back to him.

…more your self-control.”

It wasn’t a game Mustang was playing, for all he called it that, not if he drove himself like this to succeed in it. Ed knew the face of life and death, and he’d seen it today in that momentary loss and retrieval of control.

Not a game.

Edward flushed a bit, and hunched into his coat as he stalked home.

TBC

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 07, 04
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Ever – Chapter Five

Ed starts to learn to play the game. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang

Roy folded his hands and examined Fullmetal across them. “This errand is for my benefit, but you should find it to yours as well. I want you to accompany the civilian State Alchemist Dunning on a trip he’s making to Faufend.”

Fullmetal groaned. “Not him, he was one of the crazy ones!”

Roy ignored him. “Dunning-san has already agreed to this, as you are considerably more able to defend yourself and any companions than he is. I would appreciate it if he returned in one piece.”

Fullmetal eyed him sourly. “And?”

“And what, Fullmetal? Those are straightforward enough directions aren’t they?”

“Shousho,” Fullmetal growled. “Will you just tell me why you want me to go along with him?”

Roy smiled and picked up a folder, tapping it absently against his desktop. “Two or three years ago I would have simply sent you off and trusted nature to take its course. The comparison of then and now may shed some light, for you, on the preference many players show for pawns. Pawns are much less trouble than informed juniors, and infinitely simpler than allies or partners of any kind.”

Fullmetal’s mouth twisted very expressively.

“I’m not suggesting that you acquire such a preference, Fullmetal. Only that you remember it, and always ask the point of an action or request.”

Fullmetal thought that over and nodded. Roy handed over the folder. “I already know that Dunning is interested in the most delicate and chaotic stages of the transmutation process. This is what I have on his research thus far. It doesn’t seem to have a purpose. I want to know the purpose.”

Fullmetal leafed through the folder, frowning occasionally.

“In addition,” Roy continued, “this will make a good exercise in control for you. I have no doubt Dunning suspects that I know he’s concealing information. See if you can keep him from realizing what you’re doing as you try to extract that information.”

Roy half expected a protest at the implied slur on Fullmetal’s temper, but Fullmetal merely paused, mouth tightening, and nodded silently.

Interesting. Roy had seen such flickers of poise and self-awareness a couple times in the recent past. He was coming to the conclusion that Fullmetal’s legendary temper was less ungovernable than it was something Fullmetal had just never bothered to govern.

The young man on the other side of the desk closed the folder and regarded it for a minute without speaking. Roy waited for the calculations behind that far-away look to finish. At last Fullmetal nodded, halted, narrowed his eyes and looked up at Roy.

“So, Shousho, what’s the point of this?”

Roy smiled, slowly. “Very good, Edward-kun,” he murmured. Edward merely raised a brow, but Roy could see the pleased gleam in his eye.

Roy stood and came around the desk to lean against it while he explained. “What I’m afraid of is that Dunning is trying to develop, not some destructive alchemy, but something that will unpredictably alter whatever it’s used on.” He tilted his head at Fullmetal, inviting him to speculate on the results of such a thing.

“For the military,” Fullmetal said hesitantly, eyes troubled, “that could only be something to… cause fear.”

“Precisely,” Roy agreed. “I’m already watching who Dunning deals with so I know who’s interested in the possibility. What I need to know now is whether Dunning can actually do it. And,” he added, “whether that’s actually the goal of his research.”

Fullmetal tossed the folder back to Roy and stood. “I’ll go pack, then.”

At the door he turned back and offered Roy one of his rare salutes in parting. Roy returned it soberly, not chuckling until the door closed. It had always amused him just how pointedly Fullmetal kept to civilian courtesy with him. Both Hawkeye, who was only recently promoted to the rank that even civilian State Alchemists held de facto, and Hughes, who was not and never had been part of Fullmetal’s chain of command, had received more salutes than he had. When Edward did offer a salute to his commander it meant something.

Of course, at times what it meant was a deadly insult, but still.

Roy turned back to his work with a faint grin.


Three weeks later, Fullmetal was back in Roy’s office looking disgusted.

“Dunning is a complete airhead,” he declared. “He can’t tell solid sources from fairy tales.”

“The whole story, if you please,” Roy prompted.

“What,” Fullmetal’s tone turned silky, “the great Mustang-shousho doesn’t know already?”

Roy gave him a quelling look. “I stopped wasting resources keeping track of you when I acquired the leverage to get the whole story out of you myself. Now report.”

Fullmetal grinned, but settled back on the couch and started outlining Dunning’s activities.

“…so not only is he trying to do something morally bankrupt,” he summed up, “but he’s too incompetent to succeed. Two of the researchers he talked to are equally fixated on false leads, the only one you need to worry about is Farley. Fortunately he’s only concerned with the destructive stage and couldn’t care less about making unstable phases permanent. He’s scavenging the results of the others’ failures.”

Roy reflected, not for the first time, that Fullmetal not only had the detailed observational skills that any advanced alchemist needed, but also the rather rare ability to expand his observation to humans as well as chemicals.

“I wanted to rip his lungs out when he started going on about the beauty of pure chaos and how it could elevate humans to apply it to us,” Fullmetal added, “but you said this was an exercise in control so I didn’t.”

Edward also had a cast iron ethical code, which, combined with his perspicacity, had gotten him into trouble on many occasions. It was one of the things Roy had relied on most heavily when calculating Fullmetal’s most likely course of action. He found it an appealing irony that he was now in the process of teaching Edward to be less predictable.

Roy steepled his hands and considered. He wanted to suggest something that would almost certainly be a severe distraction to his student. Unshakable ethics or not, Fullmetal was still a scholar to the bone, possessed of an obsessive drive to discovery.

Perhaps it was time, though. Edward would certainly have to learn at some point to keep his political wits about him while working on his own projects. Roy leaned forward again. “Could you do it?”

“Make the mutable phase permanent?” Fullmetal filled in.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Edward asked so promptly that Roy had to smile.

“So that I know how it works, and what to look for if and when other researchers have the same idea.” Roy tapped a finger on his desk. “You’re the only alchemist I know with both the ability to do something like this and no interest whatsoever in applying it, Fullmetal.”

Fullmetal’s gaze unfocused. When he finally spoke it was not an immediate acceptance. “Can you keep the results secure?”

Roy nodded approval of this forethought. “Yes. There are other things like this I’ve had to sequester over the years.”

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent. Let me know directly if there’s anything you need.”

Fullmetal agreed in a distracted manner and wandered out of the office as if he didn’t quite see the walls around him. A complete alteration of focus, Roy gauged. Well, if Fullmetal hadn’t recovered by tomorrow Roy would remind him then.

TBA

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 08, 04
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Ever – Chapter Six

Ed learns the price that playing can cost. Drama, I-4

Ed chewed on the end of his pen and reached without looking for a book he’d set aside earlier. His hand patted empty air, empty table, a larger book…

“Here, Nii-san.”

The book dropped into Ed’s hand and he looked up to see Al standing beside their library table, bought when they couldn’t find a desk big enough, and looking at him with affectionate amusement.

“Thanks, Al,” Ed mumbled around the pen.

“You’ve nearly lived in here for days, Nii-san,” Al pointed out, concern shading his eyes. “Do you… want some help?”

The glow of gratitude made Ed feel like clouds had lifted after a rainy day. Al’s methodical approach always helped him ground his own more scattershot intuition.

“I didn’t want to take you away from your work, but if you have some spare time…”

“Don’t be silly,” Al admonished him, pulling up a chair. “I don’t have very many clients yet, and I’ll always have time to help you.”

Ed softened and reached over to lay his left hand on Al’s arm. “Thanks.”

For all the difference in their appearances, their smiles were identical.

“So,” Al settled to business, “what are you working on?”

Ed leaned back with a sigh.

“It isn’t pretty,” he warned. “And the explanation will sound really strange, too,” he added after due consideration.

“Anything else would worry me,” Al assured him, straight-faced.

Ed ignored that and gave his brother a quick synopsis of how he had come by his new project. Al nodded and frowned, and finally just sat with his chin in his hands looking inward and contemplative. Ed had quickly learned, or perhaps relearned, that this was Al’s version of deep concentration, the parallel of what he’d been told was his own hazy and far-away look when caught up in a thought.

“Do you trust Mustang-shousho to keep this hidden?” Al asked eventually.

“Yes,” Ed answered at once, and then had to stop and think how to explain that trust to his brother. “It isn’t that I don’t think he’ll use any advantage to hand, because I know he will. And I know I’m one of those advantages, and he probably counts you as a part of that. But the promotions he’s working for have a point. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know it includes the power to keep things like this out of military hands without all of this shuffling around.”

Al was looking at him with the disconcerting sharpness his brother rarely showed openly. “He’s teaching you to do that, isn’t he?” he asked quietly.

Ed blinked, genuinely nonplused. “Do what?”

“To see things like that and use them. I mean, you’ve always seen, Nii-san, but…” Al trailed off, looked down at the table.

“Hm,” Ed half laughed. “You too, little brother.”

Al glanced back up with a sudden, rueful smile. Ed clasped his hand tight.

“You said to be careful, Al, and I am. I promise.”

Al accepted that, relaxing and reaching his free hand for Ed’s notes. “Let me see what you’ve got so far.”


A few hours later Ed was about ready to take their bookshelves apart plank by plank.

“I know I had it here just the other month, where did it go?” he growled, sprawled on the floor to look under the shelves.

“What are you looking for, Nii-san?” Al called.

“Ruland’s lexicon. There’s some nomenclature I want to check.” Ed peered under another shelf.

“Wasn’t that one we got from the National library?”

Ed froze and then lowered his head to the floor with a thump. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered. He hauled himself upright and stretched. “We also wanted some of the Vaughn texts, didn’t we? I may as well go get them all now.”

“All right. Try not to get too distracted browsing, Nii-san,” Al told him with a smile.

Ed ruffled his brother’s hair in an attempt not to look shifty. “Of course. Be right back.”

He could hear Al laughing as he fetched his boots.


It might, Ed reflected later, have been better if he had done as Al said and come right back with the books. But he didn’t, and Major Morland found him while he was wondering whether Hollandus would be of any use.

“Ah, Elric-san, I’ve been hoping I might run into you.”

“Hm?” It took a moment for Ed’s mind to return from Hollandus’ accounts of Taste and recognize the man in front of him as one of the officers he sometimes saw in the General’s orbit. “Ah, Morland-shousa, was there something you needed?”

“Actually, it was about something I was just looking for,” Morland gestured to the shelves around them. “I was looking for the report on your visit to Zenotime, what, two years ago? But only about a third of it seems to be archived. I don’t suppose you have a spare copy tucked away?”

“I don’t,” Ed answered indifferently. As far as he was concerned reports were only good for hamster bedding. “I’m sure Mustang-shousho has a full copy, though.”

Morland gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure. Mustang-shousho is very thorough about such things. But he’s out of his office today and I had hoped to take a look at the report before I’m overwhelmed with my own paperwork again.”

For one echoing moment of time Ed only thought it odd that Morland would not know that the General was, in fact, in; Ed had gotten a note that he would be in all week and Ed should just drop by if he got any promising results.

And then something in Morland’s expression clicked.

He remembered the General saying it would be better if the military personnel didn’t see them in company too often. Morland didn’t know how much more aware of the General’s movements Ed was these days. He didn’t know Ed had any way of catching the lie.

He wanted the report from Zenotime without the General’s knowledge.

The full report.

“Is he out today?” Ed asked, trying to look only surprised instead of in shock. “Well, then I guess there’s no point in my stopping at the office. Thanks for telling me. Sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” Morland waved it off. “Good luck with your research, Elric-san.”

After Morland left him Ed leaned against the shelves for a few minutes, trying to breathe evenly.

And then he bundled up his books and walked as quickly and quietly as he could to Mustang’s office.


Ed closed the office door behind him and leaned against it. “Shousho?”

“Results already?” the General asked, surprised. “That’s impressive even for you.”

Ed swallowed twice before he managed to speak. “Different results.”

The General frowned, taking in his expression, which Ed had finally allowed to go blank and frozen. He stood up and came to steer Ed away from the door to the couch.

“Sit down.” And, when Ed was seated, “Now, what happened?”

Haltingly, Ed recounted his conversation with Morland. “The full report, the details of the process Magwar wanted to use,” Ed said softly to his clasped hands. “Shousho…”

“I see.”

Ed looked up to see Mustang standing with his head lowered.

“I will take care of it, Fullmetal.”

“How?” Ed asked, his brain starting to work again. “Morland’s immediate superior is Lake-chuujo, if he asks for the report…”

Ed broke off sharply as Mustang raised his head. He had never seen such a cold look in the General’s eyes.

“If Lake has not yet heard of the possibility, then it need only involve Morland.” The words seemed to be pulled out of the General on barbs.

“Morland has supported you,” Ed whispered, starting to see the shape of something terrifying.

“He has. And while that allowed him to learn the edges of the secrets he wants to know the whole of, it also involved him in things no loyal officer should have done.”

“Treason…?” He read the answer in those chill black eyes. Ed felt as though he was suffocating. “How… can you… “

“Do you truly want to know the answer to that, Fullmetal?” the General asked, deathly quiet.

The General had deliberately allowed Ed to see what he intended to do, Ed realized, in order to present this choice with the most brutal possible clarity. He had educated Ed more gently than Ed had realized until this moment, letting Ed see the manipulation as an intricate puzzle and sheltering him from most of the consequences of solving it.

“I don’t… I…,” he stammered.

“Think about it,” the General directed, looking away.

Released, Ed fled the office.


Ed closed the book he had been reading and checked the clock. “I need to get going.”

“Nii-san,” Al looked up with a frown.

Ed shook his head. “I need to go, Al.”

Al looked extremely un-sanguine. Still, that was an improvement over what he’d looked like a little over two weeks ago when Ed had come home and curled up in a ball in his room for hours, shaking. Al had discerned, quickly enough, at least one part of the cause and Ed had had to rouse himself in order to prevent Al storming the General’s office to demand an accounting.

Ed wasn’t at all sure he’d succeeded in communicating just what had shaken him so badly. He suspected that Al thought his current errand was needless self-flagellation, just Ed being oversensitive to his part in something that was really the General’s doing.

He thought Winry might have understood a little better. At any rate, she had refrained from death threats against his commander, and hadn’t argued when Hughes brought Ed the results of the court martial and Ed insisted on seeing the sentence carried out.

She was waiting for him by the door.

“Ed,” she told him, low, as he reached for the doorknob, “it’s all right if you can’t do everything.”

Yes, he rather thought she did understand. “I need to know whether I can or not, though.”

She accepted that with only a slight darkening of her eyes from sky to steel blue. But she seized him for an unexpected hug before striding off toward her workshop, back straight.

Hughes, after a single sharp look, had told Ed where to go, so he didn’t have to speak to anyone as he made his way through the headquarters complex to a small courtyard out of the way of anything. He was grateful for that.

Could he do this part of what the General did? Did he want Mustang to teach him this? Ed hoped to know soon. Sixteen days of wondering had done things to his appetite and sleep patterns that Al didn’t approve of at all.

He stopped in the shadows of the courtyard, next to the General. Neither of them looked at the other.

A line of soldiers filed out into the sunshine, followed by two more escorting Morland between them. Ed felt a twinge of shame at how relieved he was when they blindfolded him, and Ed knew Morland couldn’t see either Ed or the General standing witness.

When the guns fired Ed jerked and spun around to lean his head against the cool brick behind him, choking.

Is it better than pregnant women killed and their babies turned into inferior Stones? he asked himself, desperately.

And, as if all it had taken was that one trick of phrasing, he knew his answer.

Yes.

He turned back to watch the body being carried away, and still had to support himself against the wall as he shuddered, but the answer in his heart didn’t change.

“Are you going to be all right?”

The General did not ask, Ed noted, whether he was all right just at the moment.

“Yes,” he answered, still a little strangled. “I’ll… I’ll be in tomorrow.”

For the last two and some weeks, Ed hadn’t set foot in headquarters. Al had fetched books they needed from the National library.

The General’s hand closed on his shoulder. “Look at me.”

Ed turned and looked Mustang in the eye. What he saw there stopped his breath like a punch to the stomach. Pain. Guilt. Helpless rage. It tore a response from Ed. “Necessary,” he got out. “It was better than what would have been.”

“It was,” Mustang agreed, in a voice like broken glass. “But that never makes it easier or less terrible, or lessens the responsibility.”

“I… I see that.” And Ed did see it, in Mustang’s face.

“As long as you do. It’s your choice.” Mustang let him go and turned away.

How long has he been doing this, Ed wondered as he made his slightly unsteady way home. How many times?

Al and Winry were waiting for him when he got back. They took one look and tucked him up on the couch with a cup of tea and one of them to each side. Ed let the weight of the mug steady his hands.

Remembering Al’s fury with Mustang, the first words out of Ed’s mouth were, “He’s been doing this for us all along.”

“What do you mean, Ed?” Winry asked.

“He’s been making these decisions all this time, making these choices so we wouldn’t have to.”

“He’s been using you all this time to give him the power to make the decisions,” Al said, voice harsh as even his brother rarely heard it.

“Yes,” Ed agreed. “And it would be easy to keep on that way; to let him keep sheltering us. But he agreed to show me the way to stop being used. And… someone has to choose. And I want it to be me.”

“Why?” Winry wanted to know. “If you have to make choices like this…”

Ed was silent for a moment. “What do alchemists do?” he asked at last.

Winry blinked at this apparent non sequitur, but Al understood. “Alchemists work for the good of all,” he recited, eyes shadowed.

Ed nodded, straightening just a bit.

“Can you do it?” Winry’s question recalled what she had said as he left.

Ed looked at her soberly. “Yes.”

Winry read his eyes for a long moment before nodding and putting her arms around him. Ed turned to Al, who already wore a tiny smile, and knew his brother had accepted Winry’s judgment on this. Al also wrapped an arm around Ed’s shoulders.

“Let us know if we can help, Nii-san. All right?”

Ed leaned his head against Al’s. “I promised, little brother. I will.”

TBC

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 08, 04
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Ever – Chapter Seven

Ed’s lessons turn to manipulation. Drama, Humor, I-3

Roy sipped his cooling coffee, reaching absently for the next report on his desk.

Most of his thoughts this morning were taken up with Edward.

He had half expected Edward not to return after Morland’s execution, but he had. And, while he had often seemed troubled or hesitant about the machinations and politics that Roy showed him and dissected with him, he had insisted that he wanted to know everything. So Roy had taken him to meetings and reviews, given him reports to read, told him what people weren’t saying or talked around until Edward started to see it for himself.

Initially Edward’s hesitance to use what he saw had concerned Roy, but as time went on and Edward threw himself into his “studies”, he had started to swing the other way. For the most part Roy was not terribly alarmed; he had seen Edward spar with his brother, and knew that he could enjoy the form of something whose full expression he used only rarely and with care. Still. It would be good to be sure.

Roy paused, with his cup halfway to his mouth, as a sentence in the report he was scanning sprang out at him.

Hm. Not, of course, that anyone would be foolish enough to…

A slow smile crept over Roy’s face. He reached for a sheet of paper and an envelope, the latter of which he addressed to Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist.


Roy was, very deliberately, seated on the corner of Hawkeye’s desk when Edward came storming into the office, presumably having just failed to find Roy in his own office. An audience would be helpful for today’s exercise.

“What is this?” Edward demanded, brandishing a letter.

“It appears to be a letter, Fullmetal. Have your reading skills deserted you?” Roy inquired solicitously.

His staff, taking warning from the opening salvo, edged back.

Edward bared his teeth. Roy could almost see the howl of Quit trying to piss me off! trying to beat through them, but Edward never, ever asked Roy to go any easier on him. Today was no exception, and Roy mentally saluted the woman who had taught the Elric brothers alchemy. If nothing else, she had left Edward with an appreciation of how a hard training regimen could benefit him if he applied himself.

“You want me,” Edward growled, “to go chasing after her?” he waved the letter.

“Do you wish to debate the orders of your commander, Fullmetal?” Roy asked coolly.

This was the easy part. Edward knew a challenge when he saw one, no matter the context. Roy watched the first reflex straightening of his spine, saw his eyes widen as he took in the actual wording of Roy’s challenge, saw them narrow and watched Edward’s mouth curve up in a scimitar smile.

“It’s a waste of resources,” Edward declared.

Roy nodded approval for a good opening position.

“It’s obviously possible to capture her with less than my abilities, since it’s been done once already. Surely you don’t want me to be tied up with something trivial when a more serious matter comes up.”

Roy liked that when; far stronger than if.

“It’s been done before, to be sure,” he returned, “but not anywhere near as efficiently. A genuinely thoughtful distribution of resources arrives at you as the best solution.”

“Besides,” he added, examining his nails, “the note she left in her cell mentioned you by name.”

Edward, mouth open for the next volley, made a small erk! and looked at Roy wide-eyed. She didn’t really? his expression asked.

Roy shrugged and smirked faintly: I’m not telling.

Edward gave him a dirty look before collecting himself. “If she’s expecting me, it isn’t very good tactics to send me after her. All her preparations will be geared toward me. A different pursuer would throw her off enough to have a substantial advantage.”

“Are you saying you need an advantage to capture one woman whose alchemy is allegedly no match for yours?” Roy asked in an insulting drawl.

Edward ignored the tone admirably. Of course, confidence in his power was never one of his weak points.

“I thought you were concerned with efficiency,” he shot back, “but maybe you’re just interested in a showy stunt that will look good on your record.”

Roy smiled—a very good return. His staff was now flat to the walls, with the exception of Hawkeye who was attempting to do her paperwork, only an occasional twitch giving away her irritation. And, since they were well into the insult stage…

“If I’m concerned with efficiency, perhaps I shouldn’t be sending you after all. She has managed to enchant every man she encounters into witlessness.” Roy paused, artfully. “Ah, but I wouldn’t be sending a man, would I? I’d be sending a little boy.”

Ed had clearly been expecting this at some point, and only scored a desk clenching his right hand rather than exploding. It would do for now.

“You’d send someone you really consider a child after a wanted criminal?” he spat back. “Bravo, Mustang-shousho, I’m sure that’s just the sort of thing sure to find favor with Dai-Soutou Bradley. Are you so sure you want to be associated with what a child might do in a dangerous situation?”

Edward had been angling for something gratifyingly subtle, there, a threat to turn the slander around and make a perfectly deliberate fiasco appear to be his commander’s fault for sending an inexperienced agent. But what he hit on the way was a far richer target. Roy knew his eyes flickered, and knew Edward saw it.

Their eyes locked, and he saw memories come together into speculation. Speculation hardened into a weapon, an accusation. You would be that willing to have a child’s death on your hands? Edward took in a breath…

Caught it.

Conflict showed in his tense mouth and narrowed eyes. One breath. Two.

Roy raised a hand. “Enough.”

Edward relaxed, shaking himself, and slumped back against the file cabinets behind him.

“You saw it,” Roy stated. “Could you have used it?”

“I… it would depend,” Edward said haltingly. “This… this wasn’t important enough to use something like that.”

And now Roy relaxed, too. He knew the exhilaration of fencing like this could betray people into going further than was wise, or than they intended. But Edward had stopped himself.

“Excellent.” He laid a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “This is a form of combat like any other. Never doubt that it can be deadly, Fullmetal.”

“Yeah.” Edward swiped a hand through his hair, and looked up at Roy, eyes suddenly dancing. “So, is Psiren really on the loose again?”

“I’m afraid so, actually.”

Edward’s eyes widened. “She didn’t really leave a note…?”

“Oh, yes,” Roy said, serenely. “But, for several of the reasons mentioned, one of the female State Alchemists is being dispatched to recover her.”

Edward sagged against the cabinets muttering. The only words Roy could pick out were “…heart attack…”. He patted Edward’s shoulder and stepped back before his student started to consider the merits of physical retaliation. There were far too many flammables in the room for Roy to deal with that as expeditiously as he normally might.

A stack of folders nearly hit him in the chest.

“These will require your signature, Shousho,” Hawkeye informed him rather darkly.

In other words, Stop making trouble and be useful! Roy grinned.

“Of course, Shousa.” As he strolled out he heard Hawkeye speaking to Edward.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“I’m underage, Shousa,” Edward pointed out, with a hint of longing in his voice all the same.

“You look like you could use one anyway,” Hawkeye said, and more quietly, “I know I could.”

Roy barely managed to make it back to his office before he burst out laughing.

TBC

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 08, 04
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Ever – Chapter Eight

Ed’s family want him to pay attention to the rest of his life. Drama, I-2

It was a bright morning, incongruously bright in Ed’s opinion, since he was facing a dire trial today and having to muster all his endurance to withstand it.

He was shopping.

With Winry.

She had declared that he was spending too much time indoors and was about to turn into a mushroom. When Ed pointed out very reasonably that that was one of her grandmother’s lines, she had punched his shoulder hard enough to send his chair over backwards. Realizing that his friend and housemate was in an unstable frame of mind, Ed had chosen to humor her in hopes her sanity might return before too long.

Forlorn hope.

When she dragged him out the door he had thought they might at least go shop for reasonable things, like a supply of screws in thirty-one sizes or a new lathe. But no.

They were shopping for clothes.

Ed was deeply disappointed in Winry; she had always seemed so sensible.

Of course, they weren’t shopping for clothes for her.

“Oh, Ed, here, try this one on!”

Ed looked at the brilliant blue pull-over in silent horror. “You’re joking, right?” he asked at last.

Winry put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “What? It doesn’t have puffy sleeves, it doesn’t have anything glittery, and it doesn’t have dancing animals on it anywhere, what are you complaining about now?” Her eyes softened in reminiscence. “Those rats were cute; it would have looked good.”

Ed buried his face in his hands with a pitiful moan. He was sure he heard a muffled snicker from the hovering attendant.

“Winry, I’ll say this one last time, and track me this time, I am not wearing anything like that. I’ll look like a complete twit! I am not making a spectacle of myself just because you miss dressing up dolls!”

“No, you like making a spectacle of yourself by acts of ‘secret’ altruism so obvious you might as well hang out a flashing sign,” Winry riposted with the devastating accuracy of someone who’d known him since he was one.

“The point,” Ed gritted through his teeth, “is that I like what I usually wear.”

“You only ever wear black,” Winry complained, “it’s boring. The only way anyone can tell whether you even changed since yesterday is to sniff you.”

Ed attempted to ignore the choking noises now coming from the attendant. “I like black,” he said firmly. “It’s simple and easy and I don’t have to think about it.”

“Excuse me, Madam, Sir,” the attendant intervened tactfully, “but if you prefer a classic look perhaps you would care for the selection over here.” She led them through an archway and into a different room.

Ed looked around, a bit reassured. At least there weren’t any colors that made his eyes ache in here. He muttered thanks to the attendant, who faded discretely back, only her sparkling eyes giving away her amusement.

“I don’t know why you dragged me on this trip, anyway,” Ed grumbled as Winry started browsing. “Al likes variety in his wardrobe, you should take him along.”

“Al doesn’t need any help with his wardrobe. And besides,” Winry seemed fascinated with a pile of sweaters, “he has better dress sense than I do.”

About to get some of his own back with an admission like that, Ed paused and took a second look at Winry’s expression. Hm. Maybe Ed wasn’t so much a torture victim here as a practice run? He concealed a smile.

“Tell you what, Winry,” he offered casually, glancing around, “I’ll agree to try some of this on if you will too. There are women’s styles in here, right?” he called to the attendant, cutting across whatever Winry had opened her mouth to say.

“Oh, yes, Sir. Just over here. I’m sure we have something that would suit Madam very well.” Anna, according to the small badge that Ed finally got a look at, led them a few racks over, clearly enjoying the little drama immensely.

“Oh, but…” Winry half protested.

“Exchange,” Ed pronounced with great finality.

Anna, if no one else, had a wonderful afternoon. Ed was glad someone did. After extensive negotiation he ended up with several button-down shirts (black); one pair of tailored pants, and only one because he refused to stand still for two fittings (also black); and a handful of sleeveless pull-overs (black!). Winry carried off a long-sleeved dress (blue); two snug, low-necked cotton shirts (different blue); and a jumpsuit that looked a lot like a classier version of her work overalls (dark rose, very pretty, actually).

About to escape at last, Ed paused by a stack of coats. “Now there’s something I actually kind of need,” he murmured, fingering a sleeve.

“New coat?” Winry asked, trying to keep her bags from knocking anything down. “The old one is getting pretty worn out; you’ve had it longer than most haven’t you?”

“Headquarters life is easier on the clothes.”

“Oh, Ed,” Winry breathed.

He winced, wary of that tone after the day he’d had.

“Look at this one.” Winry pulled a long coat away from the others and held it out.

Ed’s first thought was It isn’t red, but it did look comfortable and that was a major point. He pulled it on and shrugged to settle it.

“It suits you very well, Sir,” Anna told him.

Ed glanced at one of the mirrors lining the shop walls. This coat seemed to have more fabric than his old one, but it also looked like it hung closer to his body. Clearly, tailoring was some kind of arcane art that defied the laws of modern science.

He brushed his hand down the white fabric. It’ll do.

He and Winry carted their haul home.

“Now will you let me back in the library?” Ed asked as they maneuvered the bags through the front door.

“I guess so,” Winry allowed in a lofty tone. “Until dinner, at least.”

Ed glared.

“I’ll take all the bags upstairs and put them away if you come out for dinner,” Winry offered.

Ed figured that was the best deal he was going to get. He had his doubts about whether anything actually got put away, though, because when he went to look for the new coat it was nowhere to be found. He figured it had ended up in Winry’s bags, probably stuffed in the back of her closet.

He thought that for three days.

On the third day, Winry walked into his room with an armful of white.

“Um. Here. It’s something… Well, here.” She handed him the coat.

As it unfolded Ed saw a flash of red. Shaking it out he found, appliqued on the back, his favorite symbol.

“There was a lot of good material left to the old coat, and it seemed a shame to waste it,” Winry said, sounding nervous. “Um. It’ll be easy to take off, if you don’t like it. It just seemed…” She trailed off, chewing her lip.

“Are you sure you haven’t been reading the alchemy books?” Ed asked softly, tracing his fingers over the cross, the serpent, the crown. Still the red, still the perfection; that’s always what we’re seeking. But not so that it completely encompasses my life any more. Now… I’m learning how to move through all the potentialities.

“What?” Winry blinked.

“It’s perfect.” Ed looked up at her. “Thank you.”

She relaxed and smiled back. “Good. Well, then, I made these too, while I was at it.” She held out a handful of red cloth ribbons. “You go through hair-ties faster than anyone else I know.”

Accepting them Ed noticed the symbol again, in black this time, stitched into the ends. He grinned up at Winry. “So, you’ll do fancy work for the fun of it, but won’t patch your own overalls…”

Winry swatted at him.


What was it about women and changing the way a person looked?

Al had decided that they should have the Hughes family over for dinner. Well and good, Ed was perfectly happy for his brother to show off his cooking skills. It was even a rather nice and cozy feeling to have guests in their house.

Elysia had begged for Winry to show her the workshop. Winry had let her use the second-best wrenches to disassemble a dead motor. Even better. It meant that the small perpetual motion machine was completely occupied, a rare thing.

But Ed had forgotten that he had been in a hurry this morning and had simply scraped his hair back rather than braid it properly. Hughes noticed. Of course. Hughes noticed everything.

He also drew Gracia-san’s attention to it.

Less good. Moderately embarrassing, in fact.

“New hairstyle, Ed-kun?” Hughes ribbed him. “Going for the distracted-scholar look so the girls will chase after you and save you the trouble? Good plan, good plan! I bet you’ll get any girl you set your sights on. Except my daughter, of course.”

Ed didn’t touch that last bit. There was nothing remotely safe that he could possibly say. “It’s just easier,” he muttered.

Gracia-san looked thoughtful. “It is very becoming, though, Edward-kun. Of course, it would be more so if it were a little smoother.”

Ed bit back a protest as she produced a comb from her purse and started combing his hair back and up. If it had been anyone else he would have pulled away, but Gracia-san’s hands were… motherly. Gentle and brisk at the same time.

He remembered his mother brushing his hair like this.

He sat quiet until he felt the tug as she re-tied the ribbon snuggly and patted his head. “There.” She turned him to face her. “Yes, that looks very handsome.”

Ed fought down a blush, and glanced sidelong at Al and Winry half expecting them to be muffling laughter. Instead they had nearly identical expressions of soft-eyed memory. He had a feeling he’d looked much the same while his hair was being fixed. They didn’t say anything, though.

They didn’t say anything the next morning, either, when Ed came to breakfast with his hair drawn back in a high tail.

TBA

The idea of Ed wearing his hair up like this as he gets older originated with Sakki’s drawings of an adult Ed with a very long high pony-tail. Glorious image.

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 09, 04
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Ever – Chapter Nine

Roy starts to notice Ed growing up. Drama with Romance, I-3

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang

Edward Elric had invaded Roy’s house.

More precisely, Roy’s library.

Roy supposed he should have expected it. Edward’s argument that, since Roy was the one who wanted the current research project, he had a responsibility to contribute his own materials to its success was a cogent one.

Edward really was getting quite good at that.

And, since he had no intention of allowing Ed free run of his library without him present, he found himself spending several long evenings in his favorite armchair watching while Edward buried the small couch under piles of books.

It was actually fascinating to watch. It had been years since Roy had been able to concentrate on research for any extended period; he had almost forgotten what it felt like to devote that intense focus to books instead of people. The completeness with which Edward immersed himself in study reminded Roy forcibly of his first few years as an officer, when his books had been a familiar shelter that could soothe away the stress and frustration of dealing with intractable humans. Ed was intensely businesslike about this project, and yet far more relaxed than Roy usually saw him.

The first thing he did upon arriving was kick off his boots into a corner, and it wasn’t long before any overshirt or sweater he might start out with followed, tossed over the back of the couch. Edward also had a habit of whole-body fidgeting as he read, sprawling on his stomach, throwing his feet over the couch back, changing position every ten minutes at least.

When Roy had pointed this out to him, Ed claimed that it was because Roy didn’t have a proper desk or table in his library, and that Edward only did this when stuck with inferior furniture to organize his books and findings on.

Roy replied that it was the sign of an insufficiently organized mind to require such a crutch.

Edward threw a pen at him and buried himself in Forman again. Five minutes later he patted the cushions looking for his pen and merely thanked Roy, distractedly, when Roy handed it back.

It was, in other ways, extremely painful to watch, a reminder of what Roy had given up when he chose to keep his commission rather than work as a civilian Alchemist. He had put it out of his mind, fairly successfully, how much he missed the pure research. Now he tasted that again, knowing it could only be a fleeting return, and the cutting edge of that thought stopped his breath if he didn’t push it back down fast enough.

He resolved, once again, to dissuade Edward from following Roy’s own path too closely, should Edward ever lose his mind sufficiently to consider it. Roy didn’t think he would, but then he hadn’t expected the exchange that Edward had asked in return for continuing to serve Roy’s ends either.

If it hadn’t been for those ends, for the faint hope that he could succeed in them, these three days might have convinced Roy to resign his commission and return to work he truly loved.

He rather thought Edward would throw a fit of epic proportions if he ever realized the extent to which the same three days engaged Roy’s protective instincts on his behalf. Roy had never met anyone quite so fiercely independent.

Watching Ed work also clarified for Roy just why Edward had been able to rein in his temper so fast once he had a reason to do so. While he worked, Edward’s fire and flamboyance were channeled, honed to an edge that would shame a razor. When they had occasion to debate interpretations, which happened frequently, Edward did so with a ferocity and speed and focused force that delighted Roy, sometimes even provoked him to open laughter.

Edward’s life had given him an emotional maturity beyond his years in some ways, while stunting him in others, Roy was very sure. It was only these last two years, with his brother restored and their friend, the Rockbell girl, to help, that Ed was gaining any experience of the stability that might let him survive a normal life. Should he ever stumble across one.

His mind, though, had always leaped beyond. Roy had counted on Edward’s power, ever since he had first found the boy, but he had always regarded it as something a little apart from the person Edward was. He had considered Ed’s mind sharp but unformed; his intuition accurate and valuable, but not entirely reliable. Now, watching the driving brilliance of Edward’s understanding, Roy found admiration stirring in him.

Maas was right, Roy reflected. Edward wasn’t that boy anymore.

TBC

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Posted: Feb 09, 04
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Ever – Chapter Ten

Ed has his first real-life exercise. Drama, I-3

“I have clients today, Nii-san, so I can’t help with the project report until afternoon. I’m sorry,” Al told Ed at breakfast.

Ed waved away the apology. “Don’t worry,” he said a bit indistinctly around his toast, “I’m just putting the last touches on it before I drop it off.” He chewed and thought. “Clients, hm? Do you mind if I drop in, then? It’s been a while since I had a good chance to watch your work.”

Al gave him a bright smile. “Not at all! Though I doubt I’ll have anything very impressive to do today.”

“Not very impressive. Hmp,” Ed muttered to himself as they all parted ways to their respective work. He never could convince Al that his technical acumen far exceeded Ed’s own, or that his precision was impressive in and of itself. Watching Al’s work always gave Ed a proud-big-brother glow.

So, once he had made all the revisions to his report that he could stand, he tossed it in a folder to take to Mustang later and took himself off to the sun porch that had become Al’s office.

The room was neat and full of light, tastefully furnished and decorated in soft colors, and very much like his brother.

“…no, it’s better to transmute the metal before the parts are assembled,” Al was saying to his client, a somewhat befuddled looking man in a brown suit. “Sometimes fusion does occur, if there are unpredictable elements, which your alloy has a few of. As long as the parts are all machined properly, the greater density after transmutation shouldn’t be a problem for assembly.”

My brother is a genius, Ed thought, fondly. At moments like this he had a bit more sympathy for Hughes and his constant burbling over his daughter.

“I see. I think. Yes, that makes sense, Elric-san,” the client said.

“Good.” Al jotted something down before looking up to spy Ed leaning in the doorway. “Nii-san! You came down at a good time. Bower-san’s metallurgy projects are just fascinating, and he was mentioning that he’d like to see if you were interested in some of it.”

Bower turned, and stood quickly. “Edward Elric-san? So pleased, so pleased! I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time, actually.”

Ed shook hands briefly and raised a brow at his brother. Al ducked his head just a little and grinned. Which meant this Bower person had probably been enthusing about the famous Edward Elric and Al had decided to kill two birds with one stone: boost his brother’s morale while he was bogged down in report revision, and make his client more malleable for having met Ed.

Ed rather hoped that Mustang never managed to completely win over Al, because if those two joined forces the world would be doomed.

“Really?” Ed answered Bower, smile only a bit toothy.

“Oh, yes,” Bower said, earnestly. “I truly admire your courage of convictions, Elric-san, the way you act for the common people even while bound to the military.”

Eh? It had been a while since Ed had done anything… flashy in that way, and he’d thought the rumor mill had calmed down a bit.

“It must be very frustrating for someone like yourself, having to deal with such an autocratic system,” Bower continued. “I know there are other people in my company who appreciate what it must take to work counter to the military’s orders.”

Ed was getting a bad feeling about this.

“So, yes, we were wondering if you would be interested in taking a bit of work for us…” Bower trailed off suggestively.

Ed froze. That didn’t take long at all, did it?

And then his eyes narrowed and he advanced on Bower.

“Take a bit of work for you?” he repeated, voice low and cold. “For people who would use my brother as a lever to get to me? Who would use me as their tool to defy the State and then throw me away when it all came down on my head?”

Bower’s mouth flapped. Ed leaned towards him and Bower leaned back.

“The only kind of work I would take in relation to you is destruction,” he stated, toneless. “Now get out.”

Bower fled.

“Nii-san?” Al whispered.

“Al, I’m sorry,” Ed said without looking up.

“Was that really…?”

Ed nodded. A rather horrible thought occurred to him, and he whirled to grab his brother’s shoulders. “Al, have there been any other clients who asked about me like that?”

Al, wide-eyed, thought for a moment. “No. Just him.”

Ed breathed a sigh of relief. Just Bower.

“Nii-san, you really think he was working for someone trying to… to suborn you?”

“I don’t know. But I can find out. I’ll be back in an hour or so, I think.” Ed hesitated. Al looked… stricken. “Al, are you all right?”

His brother summoned a smile for him and patted his hands. “Of course.”


Ed barely bothered to knock on his way through Mustang’s office door. “Shousho. You know what you said about there being a great many fools in this world? Well the first one just arrived.”

Mustang gestured for him to shut the door and sat, hands folded, listening while Ed paced the office and recounted the conversation with Bower. When Ed was done he rested his chin on his hands, looking calculating.

“A good beginning,” he pronounced.

Ed, used by now to Mustang’s patterns of thought, understood that this was a comment on his own performance. He stopped pacing and slumped down on the arm of the couch.

“You can damn with faint praise better than anyone else I know,” he remarked, raking a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t entirely mean it that way, Edward-kun.”

And again. Ed gave Mustang a jaundiced look, and Mustang’s mouth quirked. “Just tell me,” Ed sighed.

“You are always most… extreme in defense of your brother,” Mustang noted. “I’m somewhat impressed you didn’t throw the man bodily off the roof. Greater subtlety in these affairs is never misplaced, however. The most important thing to remember is never to show all of your strength and knowledge until it’s absolutely necessary.”

Ed thought about the confrontation. “I don’t think I did,” he said, slowly.

“Indeed you didn’t,” Mustang agreed, “which is why I said it was a good beginning. However, as you did not already know whether Bower was working alone or as part of a larger group, there is the possibility that you left yourself open to retaliation or more direct things, like blackmail, from parties you have no easy way of tracing now that they’re warned.”

Ed winced.

“Relax, Edward-kun. I’m familiar with Bower, and can assure you he’s currently working alone on his various seditious little projects. And, dealing with a single scavenger like that, it is, in fact, the best policy to chase them off with a quick show of strength if there’s nothing you need from them.”

“So I got it right by luck,” Ed grumbled.

“I have noticed before that your luck, both good and bad, is generally stupendous,” Mustang allowed, dryly.

Ed leaned an elbow on the back of the couch and pursed his lips. “So, if I don’t know one way or the other, I suppose the best thing would be to string them along, drop a few hints that I might be interested if I could talk to the person in charge, ask what would be in it for me, find out what they know.”

“Precisely.” Mustang lowered his hands and gave Ed a faint smile. “You show a great deal of promise in this field, Edward-kun.”

“Mm.” Ed glanced aside ordering himself to not blush, damn it.

Three or four years ago he would rather have died, or at least would rather have eaten Winry’s cooking, than admit that Roy’s approval mattered in any way to him. Now…

He would admit it to himself, he supposed.

Sometimes.

“I’d better get back before Al starts worrying,” Ed said, rising. “I’ll bring the research report by tomorrow, it’s finished.”

“Excellent,” Roy told him. “Then you can start reading the reports Hughes gives me about the sort of people who may have an interest in you or your brother. I’ll trade you the first volume for your report.”

“Thrilling,” Ed groaned, and trudged out of the office in a far lighter frame of mind than the one he’d entered with.

TBC

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 09, 04
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Ever – Chapter Eleven

Ed and Roy continue on their way to a partnership. Drama, I-3

Long experience kept the pain behind Roy’s eyes from showing as anything more than a small tenseness in hands and mouth. He was grateful that Edward seemed to have his own reasons for staying quiet as they made their way back from the office block Marsh worked in.

He’d been willing enough to leave the man in place, to start with. Few people knew better than Roy the futility of reproducing Tucker’s results without using his means, which both Marsh and Worthing fortunately knew better than to contemplate. It kept Marsh out of the way without any appearance of a grudge against an officer of the former head of Research. He was starting to get out of hand, though, making the first steps toward a power-network of his own among some of the civilian State Alchemists, and Roy couldn’t afford the interference.

He would have to move Marsh out of the way somehow.

Particularly since he seemed to have decided that Edward must hold a grudge after all and that preemptive action was called for. Roy sighed soundlessly as they returned to his office and deposited the various paperwork and notes they had collected over the day.

“Shousho? Are you all right?”

Roy raised a brow at his protege. “Of course.”

Edward looked less than convinced and… concerned?

“You look considerably worse for the wear, Edward-kun, I should be asking you that question,” Roy added to distract him.

It was certainly true that Ed showed his tiredness and tension more clearly. While he dissembled very well, he was less skilled at flat concealment like that. At Roy’s remark, however, he straightened.

“I’m fine.”

It was possible that neither of them was fooling the other, though Roy hadn’t thought that Edward could read him that well. As far as he knew, only Hughes and Hawkeye could.

Though that thought suggested something. Edward was fast approaching a point where he might, if he chose, become a partner rather than a student. If Roy wished to keep Ed’s abilities in his service, which he very much did, then it was time to start expanding their working relationship into the social. With a little luck, Edward would be prepared to accept that new context when the old wore out.

“Perhaps,” Roy mused, “it would be a good time to follow Hawkeye-shousa’s example. I could certainly use a drink, Edward-kun. You?”

“I notice you waited until I was legal to ask that, Shousho,” Edward observed, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Of course,” Roy answered, loftily, “I would never dream of encouraging any of my command to do anything illegal.”

Ed snorted.


Roy was not particularly surprised that Hughes found them. He and Edward were both surprised, though, that Hughes had Alphonse in tow.

“Al?” Edward blinked.

“Nii-san. I met Hughes-taisa at the city library, and he said you might be home late today. Winry is having dinner with one of her clients, so I thought I would just join you here.”

The look Ed directed at his brother was so warm that Roy felt impelled to look away so as not to invade their privacy. Hughes caught his eye and laid a hand on his shoulder under the pretext of drawing out a chair.

“Mustang-shousho,” Alphonse greeted Roy rather coolly as he also sat.

Ed’s brother still regarded Roy as a threat that Edward should be guarded against, Roy noted. He smiled at Alphonse with approval. That was just the way it should be.

“No more trouble with your clients, I hope, Alphonse-kun?” he inquired.

Alphonse’s mouth tightened. “No, fortunately it just seems to have happened the once.”

Roy nodded, satisfied. Hughes glanced at Alphonse’s expression and eyed Roy, his own look rather sharp. “Yes,” he drawled, leaning back, “that’s only to be expected, surely, when word has it that the Flame Alchemist is looking out for you.”

Roy met Maas’ gaze with a mixture of warmth and exasperation. He didn’t need Alphonse to know that. “I rather expect the more effective point is the surety that the Fullmetal Alchemist will take exception to anyone approaching his brother like that,” Roy pointed out, parrying the compliment aside.

Edward’s eyes widened slightly as the onus fell on him, which told Roy that, while Edward might have informed him of the two such approaches he had fended off, he had not told his brother. Ed flicked a faintly betrayed look at Roy.

“Yes. I know,” Alphonse replied.

Edward looked as though he were trying to work out just how much Alphonse might know.

Alphonse laid a hand on Ed’s left wrist. “Nii-san. It’s all right.”

The two fell silent in another moment of the unspoken communication that was so characteristic of them. Since Edward relaxed, Roy assumed that Alphonse must have conveyed his acceptance of his brother’s campaign to protect their household by whatever means necessary.

The conversation went more easily after that.

Two hours later, however, Roy was debating the wisdom of the outing, as Hughes had taken it into his head to challenge Alphonse to a game of darts. Why, Roy couldn’t imagine. Alphonse was not, after all, the competitive one.

“Come on, Alphonse-kun, I know you have wonderful hand-eye coordination! And I promise to go easy on you,” Hughes added expansively.

Alphonse paused and turned to look at Edward. One side of Ed’s mouth curled up, and he nodded. Alphonse’s eye took on a sparkle that Roy recognized as a lighter version of the gleam that lit Edward’s when he had some mischief in mind.

Maas might just have taken on more of a challenge than he expected.

Roy glanced across at his friend and tilted an eyebrow. The quirk at the corners of Maas’ smile said that he had caught it too. Roy flashed him a grin.

“This should be entertaining,” he remarked, as the contenders headed for the dartboard.

“Al has very good aim,” was all Edward replied, but he was smirking into his drink.

“I’m very sure he does.” Roy looked after their companions. “You have an excellent friend and defender in your brother, Edward-kun.”

Edward looked up, eyes serious and direct. “Yes,” he agreed softly.

And perhaps Roy had had too much to drink, because he spoke his next thought aloud. “I’ve often thought it would be… pleasant to have a brother.”

Edward began to say something, bit his lip, and then answered slowly. “But you do.”

Roy blinked at him. “Not to the best of my knowledge, Edward-kun,” he said, a bit startled.

Ed shook his head. “What else is Hughes-san, then?”

Roy sat back and simply looked at Edward for several long moments. He really must have drunk too much, his head was spinning. “I must congratulate you, Edward-kun. I do believe you have graduated,” he said at last.

It was Edward’s turn to blink.

“You’ve surely learned everything I can teach you if you can see a truth I hadn’t considered.”

Edward lowered his head; Roy rather thought he was blushing. When Ed looked up again the young man’s eyes were bright. “Thank you very much, Sensei,” he said, half joking and half serious.

“Ah, not that any longer if you’re graduating,” Roy returned.

“O deeply respected very much Senior?” Edward suggested with a wicked grin.

Roy narrowed his eyes. “You never were particularly respectful, Edward-kun, and lately you’ve gotten even more insolent, which I hadn’t thought would be possible.”

“Never while we’re at work,” Ed pointed out, completely unrepentant.

“I suppose I’ll have to be grateful for that much,” Roy sighed.

They finished their drinks in comfortable silence.

TBC

Since this was written before I had enough hints to twig to Amestris as alter-Germany, I decided to go with the English drinking age, which is eighteen.

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 10, 04
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Ever – Chapter Twelve

Ed talks to Hughes about his changing relationship with Roy. Drama with Romance, I-3

Character(s): Edward Elric, Maas Hughes
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

When Hughes arrived at their house, mid-morning, with a gleam in his eye, Ed was positive he’d been targeted for something.

“Ed-kun,” Hughes caroled, “how would you like to go on a little outing today?”

Sure enough.

“That depends on where,” Ed answered warily.

“To get glasses.”

Silence.

“I beg your pardon?” Ed said finally.

“Don’t be difficult, Ed-kun, several people have noticed you squinting over your books lately, so I have been dispatched to see that the problem is fixed.”

Ed opened his mouth to deny that there was a problem, but Al cut him off.

“He’s right, Nii-san, and you’ve been getting more headaches lately.” Al gifted Hughes with a pleased and grateful look. “It’s very kind of you to do this, Hughes-taisa.”

Ed shut his mouth. There were times when he could argue with Al, but this didn’t look like one of them. With an obligatory grumble about who was the older brother, here, anyway, Ed went to fetch his coat.

“So whose idea was this?” he asked as he and Hughes strolled along. “Gracia-san’s?”

Hughes chuckled. “Good guess, but no. It was Roy’s. I suppose he sees more of you reading than she does.”

“Ah.”

Hughes waited a beat, but Ed said nothing more. Predictably, Hughes decided to needle him a bit, fishing for a reaction. Ed braced himself.

“You have been spending a lot of time with Mustang. Hm. I suppose he is the only man you know that you might someday manage to grow taller than,” Hughes commented, not looking at Ed.

He did look around, rather quickly, when Ed laughed. “I almost have already,” he pointed out.

Hughes examined him for a moment and gave him a slow smile. “I believe you will, at that, Ed-kun,” he said, and Ed knew he was not just speaking of physical height.

And then Hughes tugged on Ed’s pony-tail, earning himself a growl.


After what Ed was positive was an unnecessarily long and tedious visit, they escaped the oculist with Ed’s glasses. By that time Ed had decided that Hughes might be the best person to talk to about something that had been bothering him for a while. With that in mind he steered them toward a hot pie stand and suggested eating their purchases out in the sun in the usefully deserted little park nearby.

He was sure he wasn’t fooling Hughes for one second.

He couldn’t, for the life of him, think of a way to broach the subject, though, so they ate their pies in silence. At last Hughes stretched out on the sun-warm grass with his hands behind his head.

“So, Ed-kun, what’s on your mind?”

“Well…” Ed fidgeted with the hem of his coat. “It’s kind of… Roy.”

Hughes examined a passing cloud intently. “Roy, hm?”

“I think,” Ed broke off, pulled up a few blades of grass, “I like him.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Hughes allowed, smiling. “He may be the most likable bastard I’ve ever known.”

“That’s not… it’s… I mean…” Ed made a stern effort to cut off his own floundering. “I mean like… the other way.” He let his head thump down on his knees with a sigh. Oh, yes, that was coherent. He looked sidelong at Hughes as the man sat up.

“You’re… drawn to him?” Hughes translated.

Ed nodded silently.

“Hm. Well, yes,” Hughes said judiciously, “I can see where finding yourself drawn to a ruthless political player with a reputation as an unspeakable flirt, who happens to be your commander, and never ever lets anyone know what he’s thinking if he can possibly help it would be a bit… troubling.”

“Thanks so much,” Ed said sourly, hunching down a little further.

The strangest thing was that that breezy description of Roy Mustang didn’t ring true to him any longer. Well, except the ruthless part. And he did flirt a lot, but he obviously wasn’t serious about it; half the time, Ed swore, he just did it to get a rise out of Hawkeye. And… Ed did usually know what he was thinking these days. Ed sighed.

“You worry too much, Ed.”

“Excuse me?” Ed straightened up to stare at Hughes.

Hughes made calm-down gestures. “Let’s think about this. It could just be a crush, which really does happen to the best of us. If that’s the case, it’ll pass off in time with no one the worse for it.”

Ed considered this, trying to decide whether the idea made him feel better or not.

“And, then, you have seemed to deal with him much better as a teacher than as a…” Hughes fished for a good word.

“Puppet-master?” Ed supplied, baring his teeth. “That’s certainly true.”

“So. And, really,” Hughes flopped back down with a sigh, “the fact of the matter is that Roy is a very charismatic man. He does draw people to him. His staff is a good example.” Hughes chuckled. “Did you ever hear what happened the last time Personnel tried to transfer Hawkeye away from him?”

“I thought they’d stopped trying that.”

“Oh, they did, after this! I don’t think she even noticed that they’d thrown in a promotion to sweeten the deal. As soon as she got the papers she marched down to Personnel and held a gun to the head of the officer who signed the transfer until he wrote up a cancellation.”

They both laughed.

“That sounds like Hawkeye-shousa, all right,” Ed chortled.

Hughes stood, and offered a hand to pull Ed up. “I wouldn’t worry, Ed-kun. If it lasts… well, time to do something about it then.”

Ed nodded, accepting the advice.

“Good! So when are you and Al, and Winry too, going to come out to the bar with me again?”

“Are you that eager to lose to Al at darts again, Hughes-taisa?” Ed asked archly.

“That was a draw!”


Ed lay, that night, staring at his ceiling and considering.

A crush. A bit embarrassing, but passing. He could deal with that.

And if it was something else?

Ed ignored the tightness in his chest at that thought, and rolled over.

TBC

Ed in glasses is also thanks to Sakki’s art.

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 10, 04
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Ever – Chapter Thirteen

Roy tries to deal with his changing relationship with Ed. Drama with Romance, I-3

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

“Shousho?”

Roy looked up to see Ed leaning in the doorway of his office. “Still here, Edward-kun?” he asked, surprised.

“Hawkeye-shousa mentioned you were still in here, and didn’t seem to be coming out any time soon. I said I’d check.” Edward sauntered in, kicking the door shut behind him.

Roy reflected on the immutable nature of certain things, one of them apparently being his door’s collection of scuff-marks, courtesy of Edward Elric.

“So, what’s all this?” Edward wanted to know, flinging himself onto the couch and nodding at the volumes on Roy’s desk.

Roy sighed, leaning back. “I’m starting to think Marsh wasn’t acting of his own initiative when he interfered with some of the State Alchemists’ work. Since I managed to transfer him he’s been spending more time than I like with Forsythe, who would dearly love to take over Research himself. I’m looking through the reports of the Alchemists in question to see if I can find what might have interested him.”

Ed made a face. “Well, hand one over then.” He held out a hand.

Roy raised a brow. He’d hardly expected a volunteer. “There’s no need for that, Edward-kun, I’m more than half-way through already. Though I appreciate the offer.”

Edward snorted. “If you’re only half-way through, you’ll probably be here another five or six hours with the rest of it. And then you won’t get enough sleep, and Hughes-san will worry about you.”

Roy glared. Ed smirked.

“Even Hughes doesn’t have quite the concern for me, or hold on me, that Alphonse has on you, Edward-kun. Speaking of which, surely Alphonse will be still more worried if you don’t come home on time.”

Edward’s smile turned even more smug. “I called already. They know I’ll be home late.” He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand, imperatively.

Roy was torn between annoyance at conceding and a strong desire to finish quickly. Expedience won. “On your own head be it,” he proclaimed, and tossed over one of the reports.

Ed pulled out his reading glasses and promptly stretched out full length on the couch, until all that Roy could see of him were his boots, propped on the far arm, and a tail of gold hair trailing off the seat and almost to the floor. Roy shook his head.

No lover of his will ever be able to keep their fingers out of that hair.

He stomped hard on the thought, as he’d quashed the several similar thoughts he’d surprised himself with recently. His awareness of Edward’s physical presence was really getting just a bit disconcerting. He blamed it on the growing extent to which he was able to relax his perpetual wariness when he was with Edward. After all, Ed already knew a great many of the things Roy had to be careful to keep from nearly everyone around him.

Not that that was any excuse.

Though it would be wonderful to have a lover he could relax with, as he couldn’t with any of his little flings.

Stop this foolishness, he admonished himself sternly. There was no way he could betray the trust of someone who followed him, knowingly and willingly followed him at that, just because it would be nice to sleep with someone who actually knew him.

Ed had become a good partner in his work, and unless Roy was very much mistaken he was becoming a friend as well. That was more than enough.

Roy turned his eyes firmly away from the gleaming fall of gold and back to the report he was supposed to be reading.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Feb 10, 04
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Ever – Chapter Fourteen

Roy and Ed finally admit how close they’ve gotten. Drama with Porn, I-3

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

It had been a harder day than most, and Roy was showing it, at least to Ed’s eyes. When they got back to his office he went to lean his head against the window and didn’t move.

He didn’t often show this kind of stress even to Ed, and Ed was worried.

“We’re done for the day, Edward-kun. You should go home.” The flat tone of Roy’s voice didn’t make Ed any less worried, and he made a snap decision. He’d thought it over for long enough. He was sure of himself. He knew he would have to speak some time. For both of their sakes, let it be now.

“No.”

After a pause Roy lifted his head and turned to look at Ed with an expression somewhere between bemused and displeased. “Excuse me?”

“I said, no.” Before Roy’s expression could decide which way to go Ed gathered his courage and crossed the room to lay his hands on Roy’s shoulders.

“I’m getting tired of watching this, Shousho. Watching you do this to yourself and hold everyone at arm’s length, except Hughes, and pay with a little more of your self every damn day.” Roy’s eyes darkened, and Ed tightened his grip as if that could make Roy listen to him. “Let me help.”

“Edward-kun,” Roy began, only to break off as Ed lifted his left hand to touch Roy’s face. At that his eyes widened slightly.

“Did you really think I could watch you do this, see what it costs you, and not—not start to care?” Ed lowered his hand to Roy’s shoulder again and rested his forehead on the back of it. “If you say anything like ‘It’s only a crush’,” he added, “I am going to hurt you.”

Roy’s shoulders twitched as if with a stifled snort of laughter.

“I’ve considered the possibility that it’s just a crush, except that I’ve had crushes and they weren’t like this. I’ve considered that it might just be hormones, but I’m not looking at anyone else this way. I’ve thought whether it could just be admiration for my teacher, except that you’ve already said I know just about all you can teach me.” Ed took a deep breath. “And I’ve certainly considered the fact that you’re fourteen years older than me, and my sponsor and commander here, and I don’t care.”

Roy’s hands came up to settle lightly on his back. “Edward, do you know what you’re offering?”

That induced Ed to look up with a glare. “Oh, tea and cookies, of course, what else could I possibly mean?” he snapped.

A laugh fought its way past Roy’s exhaustion and tension. “Ah, I’m relieved to see that it really is you after all. I’d thought for a moment that I must have a changeling in my office.”

Ed made a grumpy sound and ignored Roy as much as he could without letting go.

“Are you sure?” Roy asked.

Ed turned back to him. There was the pain he’d gotten better at seeing in the dark eyes, and something that might be hope if Roy let it.

“I’m sure.”

Roy’s arms closed tight around him, pulling him hard against Roy, and the heat of his body, of his breath against Ed’s ear was a shock.

“Are you sure, Ed?” Roy asked again, very softly.

Ed had to try twice before he managed to reply. “Yes…”

Roy lowered his head to rest against Ed’s. Brief shudders had started to run through him, and his arms tightened further around Ed. It took Ed a moment to gather his wits sufficiently to wind his own arms around Roy and hold him. It took longer for the shudders to stop, while Ed hesitantly smoothed Roy’s hair.

“I will never doubt Maas’ judgment in personal matters again,” Roy said at last, a bit muffled.

Ed opened and closed his mouth a few times. “He told you?” he rasped.

Roy raised his head and looked down at Ed with a faint smile. “Some time ago.”

“That… that… snake!” Ed’s indignant sputtering was preempted when Roy ran a finger down his jaw, set it under his chin and lifted Ed’s head the inch necessary for Roy to kiss him.

Roy’s lips on his were soft and slow, the brush of his tongue electric. Ed opened his mouth under Roy’s, catching his breath at the sinuous heat as Roy wound the fingers of one hand into Ed’s hair and deepened the kiss.

Ed had no idea how long it was before Roy drew back, sucking lightly on Ed’s lower lip before letting him go. “Roy,” he breathed, and opened his eyes.

Roy stroked Ed’s hair back. “Will Alphonse and Winry worry if you aren’t home this evening?” he asked.

“No. It’s happened often enough. If I’m not back for lunch tomorrow Al will start asking at the libraries for me.”

Roy smiled. “That’s my scholar. That being the case… will you come home with me tonight?”

Ed shivered at the heat in Roy’s eyes. “Yes.”


It wasn’t a long walk to Roy’s house. They both made it with their hands tucked into their pockets, though they walked close enough that their shoulders brushed. Once inside, coats and gloves shed, Roy offered Ed his hand to lead him upstairs.

Ed felt a bit shy as they undressed each other, and concentrated on his hands. When they finally stood together with nothing between them Roy took Ed’s face in his hands and coaxed him to look up.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked gently.

“No,” Ed smiled a bit. “I always had too many other things to be doing.”

Roy’s thumb stroked his cheekbone. “I am honored,” he said, voice low.

His sincerity affected Ed more severely than his kiss had earlier. They were only a hand span apart, and it was too far. Ed reached out and spread his hands against Roy’s chest. Roy breathed in quickly before running his own hands down Ed’s back, drawing him closer. Roy tugged loose Ed’s hair tie and his fingers combed Ed’s hair down. Shivers rippled over Ed, simple sensation rapidly becoming overwhelming.

“Roy,” Ed whispered

He was glad when Roy responded to his unspoken request and caught him close, because he didn’t think he could be any more coherent just now and he really needed something to lean on. He was more pleased when Roy drew him down to the bed; with a solid surface under him and Roy leaning over him he felt far more secure.

Secure enough to tug Roy down for a kiss.

Things became disjointed from that point.

Roy’s mouth seemed to be the only thing holding him down to the bed, as he arched up seeking the heat of Roy’s body above him. The touch of Roy’s hands lingered on his skin until he wasn’t entirely sure where Roy was touching him at any one moment.

At least until Roy’s hand moved between his legs.

Every sense he had narrowed down to Roy’s mouth against his, Roy’s tongue curling against his, beckoning, Roy’s fingers stroking him, circling, Roy’s palm closing around him.

And then Roy’s mouth left his and Roy’s hand slid further back, and heat surrounded Ed. He strained up, into that heat, sliding against him like fire made liquid, and it flooded him completely.

Ed lay, after, panting for breath as Roy stretched out beside him. He turned and buried his head against Roy’s chest, and Roy held him, rocking him just a bit. Ed was glad that Roy seemed to have expected him to be overwhelmed and non-verbal for a while.

After he’d collected himself somewhat he raised his head to look inquiringly at Roy.

“Roy? Are you…” his vocabulary failed him, but Roy seemed to catch his meaning.

“Just fine,” he assured Ed.

“You’re… sure?” Ed was trying very hard not to blush.

A glint of mischief entered Roy’s eye as he took one of Ed’s hands and guided it down.

“Ah.” Ed was sure he was blushing now. Roy had, however, unmistakably taken his pleasure from the evening too.

On reflection, Ed wasn’t really surprised he hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t sure he’d have noticed a brass band on the back of a waltzing hippo for most of the time Roy had been touching him. He settled back down on Roy’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Ed,” Roy murmured in his ear.

“Mmm,” Ed said without moving. “…you too.”

Roy’s fingers carded through his hair, and Ed wasn’t sure when he drifted off to sleep.

End

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 10, 04
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Morning – One

How Roy and Ed deal with the way Ever ended. Drama With Romance and Porn, I-3.

Ed.

Ed woke up wondering why his pillow was such a strange shape.

Waking further up, however, he remembered where he had spent the night and why, and opened his eyes to stare at the expanse of Roy’s chest in front of his nose. Finally stirring, he raised his head to find Roy already awake and watching him. As Ed did nothing but blink at him, a smile tugged at Roy’s mouth.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever rendered anyone speechless for quite this long,” he commented.

Ed opened his mouth, closed it, and let his head fall back down, onto the real pillow this time. “It’s just kind of… hard to believe this is real,” he said at last.

Roy laughed, low in his throat, and leaned over Ed. “Shall I convince you it is?” he teased, running a finger down the center of Ed’s chest.

Ed glanced aside, afraid he was blushing. “Would you think it was really silly if I said yes?” he asked softly.

“Not at all,” Roy murmured in his ear before nibbling on it.

Ed sighed as Roy’s lips traced the line of his throat, and let his eyes fall closed again.

Roy.

“Coffee?” Roy offered as Ed came into the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Ed sipped and paused in the act of sitting down at the table. He eyed the mug and then Roy. “You make the coffee at the office, don’t you?” he asked, faintly accusing.

Roy sighed dramatically. “Ah, one of my darkest secrets, revealed! Yes, in fact I do. Hawkeye prefers tea, and no one else can make coffee that doesn’t taste acidic.”

Ed smiled into his mug and settled onto the chair, one leg drawn up under him. Roy contemplated his body language and hid a smile of his own. He was unexpectedly charmed this morning. He had never, in all the time he’d known Ed, seen him act shy. Even last night. He’d been hesitant at times, yes, but this morning he was acting downright bashful. Accepting a towel for his shower, a cup of coffee, it seemed to be these small things rather than actually going to bed with Roy that made Edward unsure.

Of course, Roy reflected, if he had stayed the night at Ed’s house instead of the other way around it would certainly have taken all the face he could muster to stroll blithely down to breakfast in the morning. Not least because Ed’s extremely protective brother and near-sister would likely have colluded to draw and quarter him.

Speaking of which…

Roy came to lean against the table. “Edward?”

Gold eyes looked quickly up at him.

“Does your family know where you are? Or, more precisely, what you’re doing here?”

Ed’s expression shifted to one of affectionate exasperation. “No and not exactly,” he answered. “I think Winry might have guessed, but I haven’t told them…” he broke off, and looked down again.

“That you planned to seduce me?” Roy supplied, wryly.

After a moment of blank silence Ed folded up on the table laughing until he was breathless. “Can you imagine,” he gasped, “their expressions,” another gasp, “at the very idea…”

Roy had to laugh himself at the image.

Ed.

“Nii-san… you… he… you…” Al sat down rather abruptly on the couch.

Ed rubbed a hand over his forehead.

Roy had seen him off, with a light kiss, before leaving for headquarters, and Ed had made his way home torn between contentment and anxiety. One of the causes of anxiety was the question of how Al and Winry, who each had their own reasons for not entirely liking Roy, would react to the news that Ed was sleeping with him.

So far, Al was stunned and Winry was quiet.

Winry sat and took one of Al’s hands without taking her eyes off Ed. “Why?” she asked.

Ed was silent for a long time trying to organize dozens of half-thoughts into a reasonable response. “Because being with him makes me feel like I’m more alive,” he said at last.

“You’re happy with him?” Al pressed.

Ed threw himself back in his armchair and stared at the ceiling.

“Happy,” he agreed. “And infuriated. And like I want to protect him. And like I want to spend a week arguing theory with him. And scared. And like I can lean on him. And he’ll hold me up.”

Al and Winry had both softened somewhat during this recitation. Ed had a sudden urge to add And like I want to run my hands over every inch of his skin and let him kiss me senseless, but stepped on it.

Clearly, Roy was rubbing off on him.

Winry looked at Al, who was looking at Ed with a reluctant smile, and nodded briskly. “Right. Just as long as he understands that if he hurts you I’m going to disassemble him, flame or no flame.”

Ed grinned for the first time since he’d gotten back. “I’ll be sure to pass that on.”

Roy.

Hughes, stopping by Roy’s office, took one look at him and burst out laughing.

“You did it! Didn’t you? Didn’t I tell you?”

“Do I have it printed on my forehead or something?” Roy wanted to know, irritably. “Hawkeye asked me if my evening went well, and she almost smirked.”

“Just about.” Hughes leaned on his desk, chuckling. “You have that extra smug glow that says what happened, and an underlying hint of panic that tells the informed who it happened with.”

“Panic?” Roy asked frostily.

“Quite justified, of course,” Hughes breezed on. “It’s been a long time since you had a serious lover instead of an affair.”

“You should know,” Roy grumbled.

“Yes, I should.” Maas looked sidelong at him with a crooked smile. “And that’s why I can tell that this is serious. So be careful with yourself, Roy. I know how deeply you can dig yourself in.”

Roy set a hand over Maas’ to make his friend look at him straight on. “Do you think there’s some reason I shouldn’t?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, no. In fact I think this is just about the best thing that could happen to both of you. But he’s still young, Roy. It might take time before he’s ready to settle down, even if he spends all that time with you.”

Maas turned his hand over and gripped Roy’s tightly. Roy looked up at him, warmed by the concern in those hazel eyes.

“Thank you, Maas.”

Ed.

“Shousho?” Ed tapped on the office door.

Roy turned away from the windows. “Come in, Edward-kun.”

Ed entered and hesitated just inside the door. The sunlight falling across Roy made him glow and picked out the elegance of his bones. Ed wanted very much to touch him, but reminded himself that they were at work and should be reasonably discreet…

Roy smiled and held out his hand.

Well, never mind, then.

Ed came to him and settled against him with a sigh, resting his head on Roy’s shoulder. Roy stroked the nape of his neck with soothing fingers.

“Is everything all right, Ed?” he asked eventually.

“Yeah. It’s just… I didn’t think it would be so different. After.” And, much lower, “I want to touch…”

“It’s usual with new lovers,” Roy reassured him, smoothing his hair. “It gets less intense after a while.”

“How much of a while?”

“It varies,” Roy said thoughtfully. “With Ariana it lasted about four days. Hughes and Gracia were mutually entranced for nearly two years.”

Ed lifted his head and stared, eyes wide. “Two years? How did they manage for two years like this? It’s incredibly distracting!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Roy purred.

He traced his fingertips over Ed’s face and then down his neck. Ed drew in an uneven breath.

“Especially when you do that,” he whispered.

“Do you want me to stop?” Roy asked just as softly.

“Hell no.”

He met Roy’s kiss open mouthed, let Roy’s tongue twine around his and draw out his breath. Roy leaned back against his desk and pulled Ed between his legs to lean against him. Ed wound his arms comfortably around Roy’s shoulders, pleased with the solidity of Roy’s body supporting his.

“Are there any rules against this kind of thing?” he asked, struck by a sudden thought.

“Specifically or generally?” Roy inquired.

Ed glared. “Be difficult for the fun of it later; answer my question now.”

Roy smirked. “Being a civilian, most of the military regulations don’t apply to you. A liaison between a civilian State Alchemist and his military commander is not specifically forbidden. It would probably be wise to be discreet, though.”

“Thought so,” Ed sighed.

A gleam entered Roy’s eye. He bent his head and Ed felt teeth close on his throat. His body snapped taut as those teeth nipped a path up to his ear.

“So,” Roy breathed, “is it later?”

Roy.

“What are these?”

Roy looked around to where Edward was holding out the sleeve of a burgundy suit-jacket.

After two weeks, during which Ed had spent over half his nights with Roy, Ed had gotten tired of not having clean clothes in the morning and asked a bit diffidently whether Roy would mind if he kept a change tucked in a drawer somewhere. Familiar with this particular annoyance, Roy had cleared out several drawers and a section of the wardrobe, and invited Ed to fill up as much of the space as he liked.

He had yet to resolve the matter of Edward stealing his bathrobe in the mornings, but one problem at a time.

They were now putting things away, and Ed was discovering that Roy did, in fact, own more than uniforms.

“Well, that one in particular is what I wear when Hughes insists on hauling me along to a concert.”

“And the black suit?” Ed wanted to know.

Roy sighed, and came to kneel on the floor behind Ed with an arm around his waist. “The black is for funerals, the green shirt is for going out in the summer, this” he plucked at a brilliant scarlet sleeve, “is for being obtrusive…” He paged through his clothes, naming them as he went, ending with a stack of blue cotton pants and white shirts. “…and those are for just wearing. Satisfied?”

Ed was quiet for a bit, contemplating the clothes as if they were some new diagram. “Costumes.” He looked over his shoulder at Roy. “Except for those last. They’re costumes aren’t they?”

Roy was taken aback for a moment, until he remembered exactly who he was speaking to. This was the person he had taught to see these things, not infrequently using himself as an example. He rested his chin on Ed’s shoulder, reflecting on the pitfalls of habit. The physical intimacy was easy enough, but he kept forgetting that it was paired with a much deeper intimacy this time.

Ed, probably sensing his mood, half turned in his hold to snuggle against his chest.

Roy was discovering that, despite his standoffishness with just about everyone, Edward was actually an extremely tactile person with those few he trusted. Roy still had to conceal his crogglement that he was, apparently, someone Ed trusted.

Ed seemed to decide Roy was still thinking too much, because he shoved against him, tumbling them both over onto the floor. He planted an elbow on either side of Roy’s head and propped his chin on his hands, grinning down.

“So you’ve caught me, have you?” Roy asked, amused.

“Pretty sure, yeah.” If Ed’s voice had been a little lighter and his eyes hadn’t become shuttered, it would have been a joke, and likely led to a wrestling match that Roy would have lost until he managed to… distract Ed. But it wasn’t quite.

Roy thought it might be a question.

Had Edward caught him? Well, yes, Roy didn’t usually sprawl on the floor with casual friends lying on top of him. Roy supposed the real question was how thoroughly Ed had caught him.

How thoroughly did he want to?

“Come here,” he whispered.

Ed let himself slide the rest of the way down, laying his head on Roy’s shoulder. Roy stroked his hair aside, arranging the long tail of it in an aesthetic curve on the floor, and ran a hand gently up and down Edward’s back. Ed relaxed against him, fitting his body more comfortably to Roy’s.

It took a while for Roy to really notice that Ed was still making tiny movements, and a little longer to realize that Ed was adjusting himself in relation to Roy’s hand on his back.

Hm.

Roy slid his hand under Ed’s shirt and scratched between his shoulderblades. Ed made a small happy noise and arched up a bit. That was definitely it. Roy obligingly continued scratching. Ed squirmed against him.

“Mmm. To the right… little further… down some. Oo, there. Ah. Mmmmm.”

Roy couldn’t contain his chuckles as Ed collapsed bonelessly over him, making little humming sounds in his ear, as close as a human could come to purring.

Edward, he reflected, might just be able to capture him completely.

TBC

The coffee in particular, and in fact significant parts of this whole arc, are largely thanks to Sleeps with Coyotes’ influence. She keeps writing stories that raise questions that won’t leave me alone, not to mention images that sneak into my own stories when my back is turned.

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Feb 12, 04
Name (optional):
moon01234, In Joke Taken (In_Joke_Taken), Talyssa, DBZVelena, amaresu, KnightOfSwords, inoru_no_hoshi, daxion and 14 other readers sent Plaudits.

Morning – Two

How Roy and Ed deal with the way Ever ended. Drama With Romance and Porn, I-3.

Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Roy.

“So, what…”

Ed had to stop for a jawcracking yawn before trying again.

“What possessed you to use the east facing bedroom anyway?”

Roy looked on in amusement as his bedmate squirmed yet further into the covers in a vain attempt to escape the morning sun. “It’s the largest, and the one with an attached bath,” he explained, very reasonably, for the nth time.

Ed made a grumpy noise and huddled against Roy’s side.

Roy suppressed a laugh as he stroked Ed’s back, coaxing him out again. Ed had some very set morning routines, and, on weekends when they had time for it, grumbling about the early sunlight was one of them. Ed was perfectly cheerful once he was up and awake, but he seemed to enjoy being persuaded.

Finally, Ed uncurled and stretched from toes to fingertips. If Roy was in the mood for it, he could start a morning tussle by trailing a finger down Ed’s stomach at just this moment, which would make him squeak and curl up in a ball before assaulting the source of the indignity. This morning, though, he had a different surprise in mind.

Ed rolled out of bed, shaking his hair into a semblance of order, and snatched up the plush black robe that hung just inside the wardrobe. As he was turning away, though, something seemed to catch his eye.

Roy allowed himself a tiny grin.

“What’s that?” Ed asked, glancing back at him.

Roy had told Ed some time ago just how fetching a sight he made with his hair down and the robe hanging open from his shoulders. He hadn’t mentioned that this was why he had put up with Ed’s theft of his robe. He had, however, taken it into account when he decided what to do about the matter. He came to stand behind Ed, and lifted the blue plush robe down off its hook.

“This,” he said, pulling it on, “is for me to wear while you steal mine.”

A faint flush rose in Edward’s face before he turned and leaned into Roy. “Thank you,” he said, very low.

“You’re welcome,” Roy replied, winding an arm around Edward’s waist. “Shower?”

Edward nodded. Roy lifted his chin. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“No. That would be… fine.” The blush was more distinct now. Well, it was the first time Roy had asked this.

Ed let Roy lead the way, and draw him under the water. Ed naked with his head tipped back and water running down him was even more fetching than Ed in Roy’s robe. They washed each other leisurely, trading the sponge back and forth.

“Shall I do your hair?” Roy asked.

“If you want,” Ed agreed, surprised.

Every now and then his lover’s innocence about his own beauty made Roy shake his head.

He was slow, careful not to tangle or pull, and Ed relaxed into him. “You’ll put me back to sleep,” he murmured.

“If you need the extra sleep that badly, perhaps I should,” Roy told him, rinsing the soap out.

“No. You just… relax me that much.” Ed opened his eyes, looking up through lashes beaded with water drops.

Roy didn’t know whether Ed understood how great a compliment he’d just paid Roy; he thought not. So he simply smiled and kissed away the water on Ed’s lips.

Ed.

“No, that can’t be it!”

Thursday’s breakfast was long gone, and the kitchen table had been taken over by paper and pencils. Ed had been arguing cheerfully with Roy for nearly an hour over how and whether a team of alchemists in the South might be transmuting a fantastically unstable compound whose import was forbidden. Well, cheerfully for them, anyway.

Ed narrowed his eyes at Roy and flourished a piece of paper from the pile on the table between them. “It’s obvious that they would need a seven point diagram if they’re trying to transmute this stuff out of sapphire!”

“Only,” Roy pointed out with a cutting edge, “if they have someone familiar with the Saturnine manuscripts, which are rare enough to make that unlikely.”

“You’re going to trust the incompetence of your opponent?”

“It’s often a reliable approach,” Roy returned.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Ed growled.

Before Ed could continue to the evidence of knowledgebility Roy unfolded his hands and leaned across the table.

“No,” he agreed, silkily, “not this time.” He slid his palm down Ed’s jaw line, brushing his thumb over Ed’s lips.

Ed’s hand rose to push Roy’s away before he thought about it. “Don’t do that!”

They both pulled back and Ed tried to think why he had objected so strongly. Roy had touched him before when they were arguing. In fact, just a few weeks ago they had had a wonderful debate over the use of leopards versus lions in alchemical codes while lying naked in bed.

But this was different. Roy’s manner was different. Slowly, Ed realized that he’d seen Roy look like that before… when he was maneuvering some political target into doing what he wanted. Ed swallowed and looked up at Roy just in time to see his eyes widen and his mouth flinch.

He… didn’t realize either? Ed thought about that for a moment. And shuddered. “You’ve used sex that way, too?” he asked, a bit choked. “Just another lever?”

“For a long time,” Roy admitted quietly, staring straight ahead.

Ed was torn right down the middle between the urge to comfort Roy and the urge to run screaming.

“Edward. I’m sorry.”

Ed looked up, wide eyed. He could not, off hand, remember Roy ever apologizing for anything before. He bit his lip and reached a hand over the table. After a beat, Roy slowly lifted a hand to meet him. Ed laced their fingers together.

He couldn’t say it was all right, because it damn well wasn’t. But he tried to show in his grip, in his face he hoped, that the apology was accepted. It seemed to work, because some of the bleakness left Roy’s eyes.

Then he went around the table and burrowed into Roy’s arms, stroking his hair while Roy buried his face in Ed’s shoulder.

Roy.

“Good afternoon, Shousho. You look like you’re in a good mood today.”

Roy made an agreeable sound as Hawkeye set the day’s reports on his desk.

“In fact,” she continued, “you’ve been looking better in general lately.”

Roy eyed his aide. “I’m pleased that my personal life provides so much entertainment to my staff,” he drawled.

Hawkeye stared him down. Roy couldn’t remember a single moment she’d ever been intimidated by him in any way.

“I don’t know why the others are so happy, but I’m happy that you’ve stopped abusing yourself.”

Roy raised a brow. “I beg your pardon, Shousa?”

“You know what I mean, Sir,” she told him firmly. “The ones for political reasons were bad enough, but the throw-away affairs with people you could never trust were worse. I’m just glad it’s over.”

“You make it sound like I’ve gotten engaged,” Roy remarked, amused. Hawkeye had always kept an eye on his personal affairs, he knew, but she rarely commented on them. “I would remind you that Edward is only nineteen. He could well choose to move on.”

Hawkeye looked like she had something she very much wanted to say but didn’t think she should say it. “I doubt Edward-kun is going to let you go that easily,” was all she tossed over her shoulder in parting.

Roy blinked after her, contemplating her choice of words.

Ed won’t let me go? Has she seen something I haven’t?

Ed.

“Morning, Shousho.”

Ed knocked on the office door as he opened it and booted it shut again behind him. Roy made a distracted sound of acknowledgement. Ed tucked the volume of research results he’d been wading through back into its place on a shelf and went to see what Roy was occupied with, leaning on the back of Roy’s chair. “Still with Forsythe?”

“Unfortunately.” Roy tossed the flow chart he’d been scribbling on back onto the desk. “Any luck with your end?”

“Not yet,” Ed sighed. “I hate it when work stalls like this.”

A sudden, impish smile curled Roy’s mouth. “Well, how about a break, then?” he suggested, turning the chair to face Ed.

“Such as?” Ed asked, a bit suspicious of that expression.

“Something… relaxing,” Roy assured him, hands coming to settle on Ed’s hips.

Ed blinked down at him. “You’re kidding.”

Roy pulled him gently forward until Ed was kneeling over him on the chair, grinning the whole while.

“You are serious!” Ed was laughing as he caught Roy’s shoulders for balance. “Roy, we’re at work!”

“The door’s closed. That’s discreet enough,” Roy declared, running his hands up the back of Ed’s legs.

On the one hand, the door was merely closed, not locked, and Ed had no intention of sharing this part of his life with anyone else, thank you.

On the other hand… well at the moment the other hand was Roy’s, and it was tracing patterns up his back in a very tempting manner.

Oh, what the hell.

Ed concentrated, which wasn’t easy just at that moment, and sent the crackle of transmutation through the wood of the desk, of the floor, of the doorframe, which temporarily became a single piece with the door.

“Delightful,” Roy murmured, as his hands trailed down Ed’s front, undoing things as they went.

Ed took in a wicked glance from dark eyes, and then he was lost in the heat of Roy’s mouth on him. He let his head fall back, let himself melt into the heat, trusting Roy’s hands to hold him up. The slide of Roy’s tongue pulled a long moan from him.

When Roy drew back, Ed sank down, wrapped his hand around Roy’s chin and kissed him deep and slow.

“You’re completely crazy,” he announced against Roy’s mouth, hands busy with the clasps and buttons of his uniform.

“Without a doubt,” Roy agreed easily.

Their clothes went to decorate the desk, but they themselves finally wound up on the couch.

Or, at least, Ed was on the couch, arms spread across the back, with Roy kneeling on the floor between his legs. At this time of day the sunlight fell directly across them, and Ed closed his eyes against the brightness even as he luxuriated in the feel of the warmth on his skin.

Roy’s hands swept up his back, pressing Ed tight against him, and Ed made a soft, inarticulate noise as Roy’s teeth closed on his bared throat.

Roy’s hands drew him to the edge of the cushions. He felt Roy’s cock sliding against his rear and arched back, breathless, anticipating.

“Ed?” Roy asked against Ed’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Ed said, definitely.

Roy went very slowly, as he always did when they made love like this, and Ed appreciated it. It let him feel every millimeter of Roy that was inside him bit… by… bit…

And then Roy’s hand closed around him, teasing, knowing, and Ed lost track of individual senses in the tide of heat and tension and pleasure. When he opened his eyes to brilliant light it seemed only appropriate.

He slid limply off the edge of the couch and into Roy’s lap, where they leaned on each other and exchanged small, slow kisses.

“We just had sex… on your office couch… in the middle of the morning,” Ed commented between kisses.

“Nice thick walls,” Roy replied, “I doubt anyone noticed.”

Ed laughed. “Completely crazy,” he reiterated. “I love you.”

Then he blinked. Did I just say that?

Roy caught Ed’s face in his hands and kissed him far harder and hotter than before. And then he simply held Ed and gazed at him for a long moment before his mouth quirked.

“I believe I love you as well, Edward Elric,” he said softly, tone somewhat rueful.

Ed ducked his head against Roy’s shoulder, as Roy’s arms closed around him, and stayed there for a long time.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Feb 12, 04
Name (optional):
Arrghigiveup, moon01234, In Joke Taken (In_Joke_Taken), Talyssa, DBZVelena, amaresu, KnightOfSwords, inoru_no_hoshi, daxion and 13 other readers sent Plaudits.

Morning – Three

How Roy and Ed deal with the way Ever ended. Drama With Romance and Porn, I-3.

Ed.

Ed sprawled on the living room floor, watching as Al and Winry debated whether they needed new armchairs or could just get the old ones reupholstered.

“What do you think, Nii-san?”

Ed shrugged, lazily. “I like the ones we have pretty well.”

Winry gave him a sharp look. “And how much longer are you going to be around to have an opinion on them?”

Ed flopped back, groaning. He’d known that was coming, sooner or later. “I don’t know.”

He could feel the look Al and Winry exchanged, even without seeing it.

“Nii-san? Do you… not think he’s serious?” Al’s voice was concerned.

Ed supposed there was some reason for the concern. Ed spent at least half his time at Roy’s house instead of his own. His conversation had become peppered with Roy’s comments even in the man’s absence. And now Al was wondering whether his big brother was about to get his heart broken for him. Al thought that way.

And by serious Al most likely meant lifelong. That, after all, was the way he was serious about Winry. But when Ed tried to compare what was between he and Roy with what was between Al and Winry, somehow the terms just didn’t seem to translate very well.

“I do think he’s serious,” Ed tried to explain, “we just haven’t talked about things like that yet.”

“Ah.” Al still sounded concerned.

Winry took pity on Ed in a very typical fashion, and turned the conversation. “So, is he any good in bed?”

Both brothers choked. Winry attempted to look innocent and failed miserably. After wasting a few moments glaring, Ed decided on a subtle revenge. He let his expression go a bit dreamy.

“It’s like falling into the sun without getting burned,” he told her with complete truthfulness.

He checked Winry’s expression, and found it approaching doting. All right, never mind subtlety. “Why, are you looking for tips?” he asked, and let his gaze slide from her to Al.

Winry turned the color of a ripe raspberry, and Ed grinned. Victory was his. Not even a high velocity couch pillow could take it away.

Roy.

Roy liked the fact that he almost always woke before Ed. It gave him a chance to watch Ed without being observed. Ed did not, contrary to popular wisdom, look more innocent while he was asleep. He sometimes looked just as innocent awake. Nor did he precisely look unguarded; even asleep his body held the hint of motion, of readiness. Roy supposed that what Ed looked asleep was more himself, without calculation or care.

Of course, in a purely physical sense, most of the time a sleeping Ed looked like a fallen angel after a good party. Roy took the strand of silky hair that slipped over Ed’s shoulder in his fingers and lifted it to his lips.

He looked down again to find Edward awake and gazing up at him, eyes wide, lips parted.

“Good morning, Ed,” Roy said, softly, over the strand of gold he still held.

Ed’s eyes softened, and Roy shivered, brushing a hand over his cheek. “Edward,” he breathed, only half aware he was speaking out loud. “Do you really mean what that look says…?”

“What does it say?” Ed asked, voice husky.

Roy was silent a moment before he answered. “That you would give me anything I asked you for.”

Ed tilted his head considering. “Yes,” he said at last, and laid his hand flat on Roy’s chest. “If I could ask back.”

Another shiver ran through Roy, and he lowered his head until his temple rested against Ed’s. “What would you ask me for?” he whispered, formless anxiety tightening his nerves.

A tiny laugh brushed past his ear. “I don’t know,” Ed answered. “Do you?”

Roy took a deep breath and felt the corners of his mouth curl up. “No, I suppose not.”

He kissed Ed’s shoulder, down his chest, letting his tension transform into desire. Letting Ed’s responsiveness carry them both away into a simpler intensity.

Ed.

“Is something bothering you, Ed-kun?”

Gracia-san had eased Al out of the kitchen by asking him to keep her husband away from the food preparation, and given Ed a bunch of carrots to slice to keep him busy. Now Ed knew why. “Not really,” he denied.

Gracia-san waited. There was no need for her to be concerned, Ed told himself. It wasn’t a huge problem. He shouldn’t trouble Gracia-san with it.

Oh, who was he kidding?

“When did you know you wanted to be with Hughes-san for good?” Ed asked at last.

“Hm.” Gracia-san smiled reminiscently. “Well, let’s see. I knew him for about a year, casually, before we ever really got to know one another. I met him through Roy, you know.”

Ed blinked.

“I used to work at the city library, didn’t I ever mention? I met Roy when he came to Central to study, and Maas when they made friends.” She stirred sauce and looked thoughtful. “I suppose it was a little over six months after Maas and I really started to know each other that I winkled an engagement out of him. I think I had to work on him for about two months. So, four months or so after we became close was when I decided.”

“Ah.” Ed paid very close attention to his carrots.

“I think it’s harder when it’s someone you’ve known for a long time, actually,” Gracia-san said, reflectively. “Harder to tell what’s changed.”

“Mm.” There had probably never been such perfectly diced carrots before in culinary history.

“Are you still wondering about Roy?”

Ed just barely missed his own finger.

“It’s not… we’re… not that, but…” Ed stammered.

Gracia-san patted his hand, and he looked up to see her smiling sympathetically. “Or is it that you are sure?” Her voice was gentle.

Ed bit his lip. “I think so,” he said softly.

Gracia-san smoothed his hair back and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

“Well, then, you need to talk about it instead of dancing around it, or backing off from it, or whatever it is you do instead of talking.” She gave Ed a meaningful look.

Ed was positive he had turned the same color as the radishes. Carrots. Carrots were absolutely entrancing, yes they were.

“Gracia-san?” he asked after a little while.

“Yes?”

“How did you and Hughes-san really get to know each other?”

Gracia-san looked over her shoulder with a soft smile. “We started talking.”

Roy.

Roy looked up from his book to see Ed leaning in the doorway watching him. Seeing that Ed had a book of his own, Roy smiled and held out a hand.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked, nodding at the book as Ed came and wrapped his hand around Roy’s.

“Pleasure, mostly,” Ed answered. “History.”

Roy rearranged himself against one arm of the couch and tugged Ed down to recline against his chest. Ed settled back with a sigh as Roy slipped an arm around him. It wasn’t long before Roy set down his book and wound the other arm around Ed also, resting his cheek against Ed’s hair.

It felt… very good to have Edward here like this.

“You’re thinking,” Ed asserted. “What are you thinking about?”

“How well you fit,” Roy told him.

Ed let his own book fall. “Well enough to stay right here?” he asked, voice low.

Roy was sure Ed could feel his heart speed up. He didn’t think Ed was asking whether Roy’s legs were falling asleep.

“Yes,” he murmured at length. “If you want to.”

“I do,” Ed said, looking straight ahead. And then he turned in Roy’s arms until he could brace his right arm on the couch behind Roy and lift his other hand to cup Roy’s cheek. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Roy whispered. “I do.”

Ed took a breath like he’d just come up after a long time underwater, and let his head fall to Roy’s shoulder. “Then I will.” His voice was a little choked, and trembling on the edge of a laugh.

Roy gathered him as close as he could, the same laugh rising in his own throat. He had laughed more in the last few years than he had honestly thought he ever would again. Most often because of the young man in his arms right now.

“Ed…” He smiled and said very quietly in his lover’s ear, “Welcome home.”

End

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Feb 12, 04
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Rare

A pleasant end to a trying day. Porn Without Plot, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Ed padded, barefoot, into Roy’s living room, still toweling his hair.

“Next time Hawkeye asks me to go with you for a routine inspection because she’s busy and you know what he’s like, Edward-kun, remind me of this,” he grumbled.

Roy cast a look over his shoulder at the second line Ed quoted, mouth open to comment, and paused. A corner of his mouth curled up. Ed grinned behind the towel. When he’d rummaged through Roy’s closet, not fancying wearing a couple of towels until his clothes dried, he’d found two robes. One was soft but practical terrycloth; the other was lush, double-sided velvet. Ed had promptly taken the second.

After the day he’d had, he thought he deserved it.

Roy, he noticed, had lost no time lighting a fire in his rather extravagant fireplace and had already shed most of his bedraggled uniform. The latter came especially to Ed’s attention as Roy rose and paced toward him, firelight sliding across his skin.

“So,” Roy purred, “you approve of my hedonism, I believe you called it the other day, if you can take advantage of it?” His touch moved the velvet across Ed’s back and sides, and Ed couldn’t stop a sensuous stretch under Roy’s hands.

“Mmm,” he agreed, looking up through his lashes.

Roy pressed him close, slowly, bent to brush his lips over Ed’s, light, teasing, until Ed reached up and pulled him down hard against his open mouth. Roy’s tongue on his was warm and soft, rather like the velvet, and Ed leaned into the kiss as Roy’s hands slipped over his hips, up his back…

And Roy drew back, stepped around Ed and strolled for the door.

“I trust you left me some hot water,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

Ed shut his gaping mouth with a snap. “You are a complete bastard,” he declared with conviction.

A low laugh echoed down the hall.

Ed flung himself down in front of the fire. It had just been that kind of day. The trip out to the garrison three towns away had only been boring. The fawning of the garrison commander had raised the ante to nauseating. Then it started raining. And on the way back, three miles outside of the city, the car had run out of gas and Roy, in a fit of caution, had refused to let Ed transmute more. So they had walked, or more exactly slogged, the entire way back because no one else was stupid enough to be out in the freezing cold rain. That was enough to advance the day to utterly miserable in Ed’s book. He suspected, darkly, that That Author had something to do with it; this was just the kind of set-up she liked.

At least Roy had given him the first shower.

And there must be three rugs layered over the spot in front of the fire, because it was comfier than the couch.

And the fire was warming his automail up nicely, which was finally stopping the ache around the ports.

Ed didn’t realize he had dozed off until Roy’s returning tread woke him. He opened his eyes to find Roy, in the terrycloth robe a corner of his mind was amused to note, standing over him with the air of a man arrested mid-motion. Ed realized why when Roy sat down beside him and started running his fingers through Ed’s loose hair. He really didn’t understand this thing Roy had with his hair, but he wasn’t complaining. He stretched, wriggling against the softness of the robe.

And then Roy’s fingers found his ears.

Ed would never have credited it if Roy hadn’t demonstrated first and explained second, but having his ears rubbed felt absolutely wonderful. It made all the tension in his head and neck go away. It made his shoulders tickle and relax. It made his toes curl.

Ed was fairly sure he made tiny humming noises the entire time, given the way Roy was always laughing afterward, but he couldn’t hear himself to tell for sure and really didn’t care because it felt so good.

At last Roy stopped, leaving Ed a warm puddle of happiness. Roy leaned down to collect a quick kiss. “In a better mood now?” he inquired, chuckling.

Ed pulled a thoughtful face and looked up at him. “Some, I suppose,” he answered loftily.

A glint entered Roy’s eye. “Well, we’ll just have to keep working on that, hm?”

He trailed a hand down Ed’s body and lifted, rather to Ed’s confusion, his right foot. What now? Ed wondered. He must have looked as confused as he felt because Roy flashed him a wicked smirk.

Then his mouth closed over Ed’s toes.

A shiver ran the entire length of Ed’s body, and his eyes widened. The intensity of sensation shocked him, the soft, silky warmth overwhelming every other sense message and echoing down every nerve. When Roy sucked gently on his toes Ed gasped. When Roy’s tongue slid over his instep Ed let his head fall back, feeling very much as if Roy’s tongue were sliding down another body part entirely. It was almost unbearably ticklish, and almost unbearably pleasurable, and Ed couldn’t keep still, his whole body twisting as he tried to feel it as one or the other. Roy didn’t let go until Ed was panting for breath, fingers dug into the carpet.

Ed shuddered as he relaxed from that knife edge of sensation. Roy leaned beside him looking faintly smug.

“Feet are a great deal more sensitive than most people ever realize,” he remarked conversationally.

“I noticed,” Ed told him with as much snap as he could muster.

Which wasn’t much just then, but it was the principle of the thing.

Ed answered languidly when Roy kissed him; the relaxation after that much tension was making him feel just a bit… floaty. Roy propped his head on one hand and gave Ed a speculative look. “And would you be willing to try a little experiment, my hawk?”

If Roy was calling him that there was only one kind of experiment it could be. Well, the last one had been enjoyable… “Sure.”

Roy unwrapped the robe, laying it open, and slipped it off Ed’s shoulders. “Turn over,” he murmured.

Ed sighed as his lingering hardness pressed against the velvet. Roy nudged his legs apart, kneeling between them, and Ed shivered. Roy’s hands passed over his rear lightly, spread him open. The heat of Roy’s breath sighed over him, and Ed sucked in a breath of his own only to lose it when the soft warmth of Roy’s tongue melted across his skin.

The gentle, coaxing slide unstrung him entirely, and Ed’s body opened for that softness, his legs spreading wider, his muscles turning to butter. Roy’s weight kept Ed pressed to the velvet under him, and the feeling as he moved against it was so like Roy’s tongue against his entrance that Ed shuddered, which only intensified the feeling.

The movement of Roy’s tongue changed, became firmer, no longer stroking but circling and pressing, and Ed moaned, pushing back, asking for more. Roy’s tongue flirted with him, pressing into him and flicking away, curling against skin that felt on fire.

“Roy…!” Ed couldn’t manage any more coherence than that; fortunately, Roy had become reasonably adept at recognizing that particular tone in Ed’s voice. With a last, lingering caress he drew back and stretched out against Ed’s side as he collapsed.

“If you want more than that we need to move to the bedroom,” Roy said in Ed’s ear.

Ed considered this, a bit hazily. Yes, he certainly did want more, but he didn’t really want to move. Here and now he was in a bubble of wonderful lassitude that he was sure would break if he got up. So he twisted around just far enough to slide his left hand up Roy’s cheek.

“No.”

Roy blinked at him. “Edward, there’s nothing here…”

“I know,” Ed answered, a grin tugging at his mouth. Roy’s voice echoed in his memory: Another time, perhaps. “Here, Roy. Now.”

Roy looked at him silently for a moment, eyes turning darker as he understood. A hungry smile curved his lips before he turned his head to kiss Ed’s palm. He let his own robe slide off and moved between Ed’s legs again, kneeling back and pulling Ed with him to straddle his lap.

“Tell me if this hurts you at all,” he said softly.

Ed tipped his head back until it rested on Roy’s shoulder. He was definitely floating now, almost laughing. “You won’t,” he told Roy, voice husky from the arch of his neck, or perhaps from the feeling of Roy pressed against him.

Roy leaned forward, pushing Ed with him until Ed had to catch himself on his hands. Roy’s thumbs stroked down his back, down, parting him, and Ed felt Roy pressing into him, smooth and solid. He clung to the openness Roy’s tongue had left him with and slowly, slowly, Roy was inside him.

Ed remembered the feeling of Roy’s gloved fingers in him, and this was like that, only more. It was so rough, so hot, this feeling like individual nerves striking sparks as Roy’s cock slid over each one, and finally his back was pressed hard against Roy’s chest, and Roy’s arms were around him. He could feel Roy trembling; or maybe it was himself.

“Ed?” Roy asked, voice low and burning.

Don’t stop,” Ed whispered.

Roy’s hands stroked down his stomach, between his legs, coaxing his hips forward as Roy drew back, and Ed lost himself in the intimate, intense friction of Roy inside him, the smooth, teasing touch of Roy’s fingers fondling him, the shuddering fire that raced down his veins, building slowly, slowly, until it finally released him with enough force to stop his breath.

When he could tell that he was breathing again, Ed realized that he was still kneeling over Roy’s lap, and that Roy’s arms were tight around him, supporting him, and that Roy was leaning his cheek on Ed’s left shoulder, looking toward the fire. Ed stirred, and made a small sound at the feeling of Roy still inside him.

“Is everything all right?” Roy murmured into Ed’s shoulder.

“Mmmmm. Very much.” Ed basked in the heat from the fire, and the softness of velvet under his knees, and the sleek planes of Roy’s body against his back. “You worry too much,” he added as the faint concern in Roy’s voice registered.

“Not everyone enjoys that, my hawk, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Did I sound like I wasn’t enjoying myself?” Ed demanded.

“Well, no,” Roy had to admit, and Ed could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, then.” Ed drew away and curled up on a dry section of the robe before tugging Roy down and wrapping the man’s arms back around himself.

Taken all together, he reflected as he started to drift off, the day had probably come out even after all.

End


Branch: *whistles* That was some PWP, guys.

Roy: Well, the plot bunnies appear to be busy mating with the angst bunnies, so I suppose all your creativity focused on this one point.

Ed: Creativity, hm? Is that what they’re calling it now?

Branch: *examining nails* You know, Ed, you shouldn’t slander the focus that just might go toward the violin-bunny next. You know, the one where you get to be on top again?

Ed: *freezes* Really? You’re not just stringing me along, here?

Branch: *small, evil smile* Maybe.

Ed: *glares at Roy* This is all your fault. You’re rubbing off on her.

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Feb 16, 04
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At A Cost

Roy’s choices, soon after the end. Drama, I-4.


“A price is something you get. A cost is something you lose.” —Shards of Honor, Lois McMaster Bujold.


Roy nudged a piece of rubble with his toe.

“How is the clean-up coming on the buildings that were destroyed?” he asked.

“It’s on schedule, Sir,” Hawkeye reported. “The ones out in the city are almost finished; I left the ones inside Headquarters for last, as you said.”

Roy weighed the value of disturbing his generals by leaving the military buildings in wreckage for a bit longer against the drawbacks of disturbing his men by doing so. With only a faint twinge of regret, he decided that the men were more important. After all, he didn’t want any of them to start agreeing with the officers who were displeased by Roy’s ascendance. And while he was thinking of common welfare…

“Have we located everyone who actually met the Homunculi?”

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes, Sir. A number of them had to be hospitalized, especially those who were present at the end.”

“Not surprising,” Roy murmured.

“No one still alive knows what they really were,” his aide finished.

Roy ran a hand through his hair. “Well that’s one concern out of the way.”

Now to see if he could take care of another concern, he thought as they continued on toward their new offices.


Roy stood at the window with his back to the room. It didn’t particularly help. He had worked with Fullmetal too long; he could see the boy’s expressions in his mind’s eye quite clearly, hear them in the flex of his voice.

“What do you mean, none of your business? Everything’s your business now, isn’t it?” Fullmetal added, more quietly but still loud enough to hear, “God help the world.”

“Not this,” Roy informed him coolly. “The State Alchemists are no longer associated with the military. I’ve given the Dean of Central University oversight. That,” he flicked his fingers at the silver watch lying on his desk, “is not my concern. I’m not the person you need to return it to, if you want to be rid of it.”

Fullmetal snorted. “Well, isn’t that convenient. Speaking of getting rid of things.”

Roy smoothed the twist out of his mouth before turning around. “Why should it concern you? You have no reason to stay here now, or worry who controls the State Alchemists. You have what you need.” Roy looked pointedly at the arm and leg that he knew were no longer automail, though Fullmetal still wore his concealing gloves.

Fullmetal looked at him narrowly, puzzled. Roy should have known he wouldn’t get the boy to leave without some kind of explanation. He sighed, plucked the watch off his desk, and tossed it back to Fullmetal.

“I did not spend this much effort freeing the State Alchemists from military control only to see it wasted. Turn that in or not, as you please. But you have no more business here. So take your brother and go.” Roy turned back to his window. “You are no longer my dog, Edward Elric. Go.”

He could almost hear Fullmetal’s teeth grind at that epithet he had hated and spent so much time and energy circumventing. Roy had, after all, chosen it to make him angry.

“Whatever you say,” Fullmetal growled. “Dai-Soutou.” He bit off the title like an insult, and Roy heard him spin around and stride out the door. His steps never paused or hesitated, and one small thread of tension unwound itself from Roy’s shoulders.

Two more safe.


Hughes found him that evening, still at his desk.

“Are they away?” Roy asked, knowing it wasn’t beyond Fullmetal to decide to stay for sheer pique.

“Lock, stock, and baggage,” Hughes confirmed. “It was a good idea to assign a car and driver to see them back to Riesenburg. Al is still a bit… edgy.”

Roy sniffed, amused at his friend’s talent for understatement. Alphonse Elric had spent the first month of his recovery constantly on the raw edge of breakdown. It was only recently he had stabilized enough to even consider traveling. Roy hesitated to imagine what a trip by train would have been like to his reawakened senses.

“As long as they’re gone.” Roy rubbed a hand over his eyes and leaned back.

“Roy, are you sure it was a good idea to send them away?” Hughes asked quietly.

Roy shook his head. “They had to go now, while the remaining confusion will keep anyone from asking questions. Enough of the State Alchemists have left, now that the direction of research the State will fund has changed, that it won’t seem strange for them to leave too.”

“I meant, is it a good idea to send them away at all?” Hughes’ eyes on him were sharp.

In front of this man Roy let himself slump, let himself scrub his hands over his face, let his impatience and anger show.

“Hughes, you can’t possibly be suggesting that I keep them here! Ed has no reason to do as I say now that his brother is restored, and I’m going to have enough on my conscience without continuing to use a child as my tool.”

“What if you told him what the point was?”

Roy dropped his hands with a thump and glared. “Impossible,” he stated flatly. “Edward is brilliant, but politically naive and far too hot tempered.”

Hughes’ mouth quirked. “Ah, you’re afraid you couldn’t control him, is that it?”

Roy’s hand came down on his desk with a crack like a gunshot. He barely managed to close his teeth on the stream of abuse that rose to his lips. Needing to do something, before he truly lost control, he shoved away from his desk and paced a few furious turns through the room before managing to stop himself. He heard Hughes sigh at his back, and felt his friend’s hands close over his shoulders.

“This is why I asked, Roy. You’re wearing yourself too thin; you need someone to help you hold all this together.”

“What,” Roy asked, turning his head slightly, “are you saying you aren’t going to be here?”

Hughes gave him a brisk shake. “Stop that. I’ll always support you, and you know it. And your people will follow you to Hell as many times as you choose to go there. But is there anyone else who can do what he did? Ed the Amazing, Traveling Trouble Magnet, Problems Solved at No Extra Charge?”

Roy leaned on his desk and laughed himself breathless. He must be overtired, it hadn’t been that funny. His coat appeared in front of him and he blinked at it.

“Put on your coat, Roy, it’s time to leave,” Hughes told him in the same tone of voice he used when convincing his daughter to eat her lima beans, a process Roy had witnessed several times.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Roy sighed, “I still have a ton of work to do…”

He trailed off as Hughes started stuffing his arms into the sleeves willy-nilly. For several crucial moments Roy was too surprised to resist.

“Hawkeye says you’ve done more work today than you really need to, and Gracia gave me orders to bring you home for dinner,” Hughes declared as Roy gathered himself to protest. “Are you going to argue with both of them?”

Roy thought about that for a minute, considered how tired he was, and meekly followed Hughes out the door.

“You’re right,” he said as they emerged into the cool night air, “no one else can do quite what Ed did. But why would he? What drove him is done now. Our exchange is over.”

Hughes shot him a sidelong look before gazing up at the sky. “If you asked him, I think he would do it. Especially if you said why.”

“And take him away from his brother? Now?” Roy asked, softly.

Hughes was silent.


Did a person have to be dead before you could have her beatified? Roy couldn’t remember. He would have to find out, because he was seriously considering nominating Gracia for sainthood. She had kept Elysia from decorating Roy with her dinner, and was the only person who made coffee better than Roy himself. That was two miracles right there, and the coffee was a miracle of healing, he was sure. Could that be counted twice?

Roy cradled his coffee cup in his hands and inhaled deeply.

“Roy? Are you all right? You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

She had even let him savor the first cup before beginning her inquisition, which was the most mercy anyone had shown him in months. Definite saint material. Saint Gracia, patron of… really stupid men who thought they could save the world. Pray for us.

“Roy?”

He started slightly as she touched his wrist, and dredged up a smile for her.

“I’m sorry, Gracia, my mind was wandering. Transported by the quality of your coffee.” He saluted her with the cup, and she laughed.

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Except out of the question. You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

She speared him with a stern look and Roy sighed. He could, he supposed, try to weasel out of it, but Gracia often knew when he was lying. He was sure the skill would come in very handy when her daughter started dating. What had she asked? Ah, yes.

“Not much,” he admitted.”It will be better after a while, but there just hasn’t been time to get everything done. Most of the generals still hate my guts, but even Hughes can’t find reasons to discharge many of them. The population of the city is still shaken up, and I don’t have enough people who can keep order without causing the mobs they’re trying to prevent. Rumors are running through the backcountry twice as fast as official news, and God only knows where that will end…” Roy stopped himself with an effort.

Gracia looked a question at her husband, who nodded.

“My own area is bad enough, since His Excellency here,” he waved at Roy, who glowered back, “made me head of the entire Intelligence branch. But some of the generals are recovering from their shock and starting to get creative.”

“Still,” Gracia admonished, “you won’t do anyone any good if you drive yourself to collapse.”

Roy stifled the laugh that he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop if it started. “What makes you think I’ll do any good anyway?” he asked his coffee cup.

“Roy…” Gracia said softly, frowning.

Hughes, who had heard him say this more than once in the last week, only tightened his mouth.

Gracia slipped off the couch so that she could sit on her heels in front of Roy and make him look at her. “Do you remember when you got stuck over the seasonal codes of the Twelve Gates?” she asked.

Roy felt a small grin tug at his mouth. That had been the first year he had known Gracia, the first year he had lived in Central City, studying toward the State Exams.

“You told me to get out of the library for a look at the actual Spring. I recall,” he added, “that you smacked me with a lexicon when I protested.”

Gracia smiled, and took his face in her hands. “And do you remember when you were panicking, a week before the Exams?”

Roy closed his eyes. “You told me you believed I could do it. And that you would be there with me to make sure I did.”

“I still believe in you, Roy. And I’m still here with you; we all are.”

“Thank you,” Roy whispered, lifting a hand to cover one of hers.

“You need to sleep,” she told him gently. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

If he did, Roy knew she would make sure he slept. And while he didn’t doubt Gracia’s wisdom for a moment, there were still things he had to do. “No, I think I’ll sleep better if it’s in my own bed.”

He opened his eyes to see Gracia and Hughes exchanging on of those silent spousal communiques that sometimes made him briefly envious.

“All right,” Gracia agreed. “Maas will take you home.”

Roy thought he really must be slipping, because he didn’t suspect a thing until Hughes joined him at the door with an overnight bag in hand. He looked at Gracia, who kissed her husband good night and smiled sweetly at Roy. Remembering the lexicon, Roy closed his mouth on a protest.


“You should drink something besides coffee,” Hughes told him, watching Roy wander aimlessly around his kitchen, trying to find the coffee grinder. He was sure it had been in the cabinet by the stove. Things never held still when you needed them to. Not people, not science, not coffee grinders.

“I need coffee to stay awake,” Roy pointed out very reasonably, opening the icebox. No, not there either.

Hughes caught him as he went by. “Roy, you need to stop.”

Roy looked up at his friend seriously. “I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll fall.”

“If you fall we’ll catch you,” Maas said, voice low and soothing.

Roy could only shake his head. He couldn’t betray them all by falling. By failing. Maas sighed and pulled Roy against him.

“Stop now,” he ordered quietly.

Roy rested his head on Maas shoulder. Maybe that would stop the spinning. “Maas…”

“Hush. It’s all right, Roy.”

Roy felt Maas’ hand settle lightly on his hair, and let his eyes fall shut for a moment.


Roy woke up warmer than usual. He felt rested for the first time in months. Someone’s arms were around him. He lay, contemplating these bits of information, in that borderland between sleep and true wakefulness. The arms tightened a bit. Who…?

Oh, yes.

Roy had only dim impressions of Maas supporting him up the stairs, but he did remember being amused that Maas remembered Roy liked to sleep on the inside.

Still drifting, Roy moved closer to Maas, who obligingly shifted to transfer Roy from the pillow to his shoulder. That was better.

He’d felt better the last time he’d woken up like this, too, Roy mused sleepily. After that worst night in Ishvar. Maas had held him until he slept and been there when he woke up. And Roy had felt a little cleaner for his presence, as he felt a little calmer now. Roy lay, listening to his friend’s heartbeat, until the brightness on the other side of his eyelids finally registered.

“What time is it?” Roy muttered.

“Almost noon.”

Having half expected it, Roy did not sit bolt upright at this piece of intelligence. Instead he pried an eye open and directed a faintly accusatory look up at Maas.

“You needed the sleep, and Hawkeye can handle things fine until you get there,” Mass told him. “Possibly better, she’s a lot more direct than you.”

While the vision of his second calmly backing some obnoxious officer out the door at gunpoint had a certain appeal, Roy was awake enough to remember how long his To Do list still was. He sighed, stretched, and hauled himself out of bed. He squinted back at Maas as his friend followed suit.

“So, can I have more coffee now?” Roy asked.

Maas snorted. “You think I’ve lost my mind enough to try and keep you away from it in the morning? Think again. Does this mean I can have the shower first?”

“You think I’ve lost my mind enough to let you make the coffee?” Roy shot back. “Towels are in the hall closet.”


“I’ll see if I can find you some troubleshooters for the field,” Hughes said as they entered Headquarters.

Roy nodded, remembering their discussion yesterday about what Fullmetal had been able to do.

“That would be helpful.”

They were almost at his office before he touched Hughes’ shoulder and spoke quietly.

“Thank you.”

Hughes looked at him steadily for a silent moment.

“You’re not doing this alone, Roy. Remember that.” And then he winked and swept a deep bow. “It’s my duty and pleasure, Your Excellency, Sir.”

Roy growled and snapped a tongue of flame alight. Hughes fled in mock-terror, laughing all the way, and Roy was smiling as he opened his office door.

End

Last Modified: Sep 26, 08
Posted: Feb 22, 04
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Snapshots

A handful of moments: Roy and Hughes at Ishvar. Drama With Occasional Porn and Angst, I-4, spoilers ep 15.

Character(s): Maas Hughes, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Hughes/Roy

Second Lieutenant Roy Mustang poked at his dinner roll. He should be eating it, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy.

It had been a very unpleasant day.

As Roy counted it, the day had started last night, when he had been assigned his least favorite duty, counter-assassin bodyguard. When he was looking out for one or more of the high ranking officers he had two possible distasteful outcomes. He could spend the entire time wound tighter than his own watch spring for absolutely nothing. Or he could actually counter a threat, which meant using fire on another human being, and while he could do it in the heat of the moment he was always sick afterwards.

It was the smell, he reflected morbidly, kind of like the smell of dinner here in the mess tent.

The comparison was not making him any more eager to eat his roll.

Last night had been a watch spring night. Which meant he hadn’t been able to sleep after, and was now stumbling around the camp in a state of advanced blear, fervently praying he wouldn’t draw night duty again tonight.

It was almost enough to make him want to be assigned to a Demolitions team for a few days. Annoying as it sometimes was to be looked at as a walking fuse, he wasn’t usually bringing buildings down on living people.

His musing was interrupted by a hand snatching his roll from under his eyes. Spinal reflex grabbed it back before he consciously recognized the hand as Maas Hughes’. Roy glared up at his friend, who was standing across the table and grinning at him.

In doing so he forgot to keep a good grip on his bread.

“Ah, come on Roy,” Hughes cajoled, examining the roll that was somehow back in his own grasp, “it’s not like you were eating it. Toasting it maybe. Are you experimenting on whether you can start a fire by giving something the evil eye?”

“Give me back my bread, Hughes,” Roy growled, in no mood for horseplay.

Hughes’ slow grin told Roy that his wishes had no bearing on the situation.

“Make me.”

Roy did not normally rise to that kind of bait in public. He had a certain dignity to maintain, and being an Alchemist who had become an officer by default rather than through training didn’t make things any easier. But today he was tired and short on temper, and decided that the shortest distance between two points was to vault the table and tackle Hughes.

It was unfortunate that Hughes anticipated him, and took off sprinting, but Roy wasn’t about to let that stop him now.

The two of them ducked and wove around tables and soldiers, Hughes cackling and Roy snarling. He didn’t even consider the fact that he had his gloves in his pocket. He was going to strangle his best friend with his bare hands, by God.

Right after he got his damn bread back.

Hughes ducked out of the mess tent altogether, which turned out to be a tactical error. They both skidded to a halt directly in the path of Brigadier General Hakuro. What was even worse, Master Sergeant Mitchell was with him, and Hakuro’s pursed lips and narrowed eyes were nothing to Mitchell’s expression of abysmal expectations wholly fulfilled.

It was the second expression that snapped both Second Lieutenants to attention.

Hakuro passed on without deigning to speak, but Mitchell paused long enough to rake them both up and down.

“It’s nice to see someone in high spirits. Sirs.” His tone could have put ice on the sand at noon.

Roy winced.

When Mitchell was safely out of sight and ear-shot he rounded on Hughes, mouth open to berate his friend for getting them both into trouble.

Hughes lobbed the roll back to him.

Roy regarded the rather battered hunk of bread for a long moment. “If you tell me that this was all for the sake of getting me to loosen up, as you like to put it,” he enunciated precisely, “I am going to remember that I have my gloves with me.”

“All right,” Hughes replied, airily, “I won’t tell you that, then.”

He started to stroll back into the tent. Roy’s lip curled back. Dignity, he reminded himself strenuously, an officer has a certain dignity to maintain.

Ah, screw it.

The roll bounced off the back of Hughes’ head. Roy was unsurprised that Hughes reacted fast enough to catch it, though it would have made things more… piquant if he hadn’t.

Roy made his way very calmly past his startled friend.

“Decided you don’t want it after all?” Hughes asked.

“Of course I still want a roll. That’s why I’m going to have yours. You get that one.”

“Excuse me?” Hughes blinked at him.

“In the words of your illustrious mother,” Roy said in his best laying-down-the-law tone, which he had, in fact, learned from Maas’ mother, “you touched it, you take it.”

Maas choked at the imitation, and Roy smiled with great satisfaction.

Then he sprinted back toward the table to lay hold of Maas’ roll before his friend recovered.


“Affinities have nothing to do with personalities, Maas, there have been plenty of studies on it.”

Roy sprawled on the floor or Maas’ tent and took another drink of his beer.

“Oh yeah? Point out to me one person who’s more of a cast iron bastard than Gran. And he binds that stuff to his skin.” Maas shuddered, delicately. “There’s got to be a connection.”

“Maas…”

“Not to mention Armstrong,” Maas continued. “He can call it art all he likes, there’s a man whose answer to everything is brute force.” He paused for a contemplative pull on his own beer. “Sometimes it’s the force of pure bull-headed chivalry, but still.”

“You’re reaching, Maas,” Roy informed his friend.

“So what about you? You and your flash fire temper, even if you don’t usually show it to the poor suckers around here. Boy are they in for a surprise some time,” Maas added.

“I control my temper, Maas, and what does that do to your little theory?” Roy arched a brow. The gesture didn’t seem to have the same effect it did when Major Gloster used it. Roy would have to work on that.

“Doesn’t mean it’s gone,” Maas pointed out with some justice. “Besides, that isn’t the only thing your personality has in common with your affinity.”

“What else is there?” Roy challenged.

“Your brilliance.”

Roy blinked. Maas gave him a sidelong look.

“It’s just like fire, really. It flickers. There’s no better word for it.”

“Flickers?” Roy repeated. “Do I want to know?”

A corner of Maas’ mouth curled. “You’re brilliant,” he stated. “I don’t think anyone doubts that, except possibly Mitchell, and that’s his job. But you have the most uneven application I’ve ever seen. When something grabs your attention, you give it everything you’ve got, but if it doesn’t you couldn’t care less.”

“What’s wrong with focusing on the important things?” Roy asked, a bit defensively.

“It’s the not focusing on a few important things that stands out,” Maas replied dryly. “Like eating.”

Roy was indignant. “I was only fifteen, Maas, and it was only once,” he protested.

“A very memorable once,” his friend noted. “Your mother nearly had hysterics when you fainted.”

Roy sniffed. “The whole argument is false logic,” he declared. “You already know my affinity is fire, so you map my personality onto that. If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t be able to guess based on my personality.”

“Maybe,” Maas allowed easily. Then he grinned. “It’s still a favorite pastime for both the officers and the troops.”

“What is?”

“Guessing what someone’s affinity would be if they were an advanced alchemist.”

Roy rolled his eyes. A smile twitched at his lips, though. “So? What is yours supposed to be?” he asked.

Maas chuckled.

“The general consensus is that I would have an affinity for lightning. Supposing that’s possible, of course, most of the guys are pretty sketchy on their science. Is it?”

“Mmm. Could be,” Roy allowed, squinting at the canvas above him. Trying to translate from technical terms, he essayed, “If you break air, the bits left over can have an electrical charge. If you could recombine them correctly, you could get lightning. You’d have to clear a path for it, though. It would be very delicate work.”

He smirked.

“If you were,” he drawled, “I bet what you’d really have an affinity for is air itself. You’d have all the raw material you could ever need coming out of your mouth. Of course, the temperature might be a bit high…”

A small knife zinged past Roy’s nose and clattered off Maas’ footlocker. Roy laughed. “That’s the last of my beer you’re getting, Mustang,” Maas told him darkly.

Roy grinned and propped a foot on his knee. “Seriously, though,” he said, thoughtfully, “if it did work that way, which it doesn’t, but if it did… I’d expect you to have an affinity for plants.”

“Plants?” Maas blinked.

“Growing things,” Roy explained. “An affinity for, well, life. The quiet parts that most people don’t pay attention to.”

Maas was silent, and, looking over, Roy thought he detected a faint blush. He decided to take pity on his friend.

“So, can I have another beer?” he asked lightly.

Maas growled, though Roy could see the gleam of appreciation in his eyes. “Oh, so that’s what this was all about, hm?” Maas languished dramatically. “My best friend, and he only likes me for my beer!”

He tossed over another can.


“I hate these boots,” Maas grumbled over the footgear he was polishing. “They might at least have chosen rough leather for the field, but no, it had to be shiny!”

“They aren’t that bad,” Roy said, fitting the last piece of his gun back into place.

Maas gave him a dour look from where he sat on the bed. “You, of course, wouldn’t think so, Mister Perfectly Groomed. Gran probably keeps you hanging around the command to be a sartorial example.”

“Ah. Would that also be why he keeps assigning me bodyguard duties like I was some kind of self-mobile gun?” Roy inquired rather acidly. He glanced up at Maas and couldn’t stop a smirk. His friend was looking at him seriously, and had apparently forgotten the rag full of boot polish dangling from his hand.

“You’re going to get polish all over your bed, you know,” Roy pointed out helpfully.

Maas contemplated the boot in his hand, set it down carefully, neatly folded his polish rag beside it, and pounced on Roy, wrestling him to the floor.

Roy tried not to laugh too hard; he needed all his breath. He hadn’t won a wrestling match with Maas in about ten years, but some were closer than others. For one thing, Roy had a stronger grip.

It was hard to use it effectively, though, when Maas started cheating and tickled him.

Roy wasn’t sure when wrestling gave way to something else, but he was sure it happened sometime before the salt taste of Maas’ skin was on his tongue. He traced the line of Maas’ throat, and his friend arched back with a rough, low sound of pleasure.

They drew apart of get rid of interfering clothes, and Maas tugged Roy toward the bed. Roy’s bare back touched Maas’ sheets and he pulled Maas down against him. Yes, that was what he wanted.

“Maas, do you have…?”

Maas chuckled in his ear. “Since being your lover? I stashed some away every place I could think of.” He reached an arm under the bed and Roy laughed low in his throat.

“Does that mean I should try to find all those places?” he purred.

Maas shivered against him. “God, Roy, sometimes I think you could bring a person off with nothing but your voice,” he whispered against Roy’s shoulder.

Roy leaned in to close his teeth on Maas’ ear. “Want to find out?”

Maas laughed, breathless. “I thought we had something else in mind for now?”

His fingers returned, cool and slick, and Roy leaned back with a sigh. Maas stroked him, soothing and seducing Roy’s body until he was rocking up into the slow thrust of Maas’ fingers.

“It happens every time, and it still surprises me,” Maas murmured.

Roy made a questioning noise, about all he could manage.

“The way you relax so fast for me.”

Roy knew there were a lot of reasons for that, some old and some recent, most having to do with the core of gentleness in Maas. It was what his steel and danger were wrapped around. But Roy didn’t have the breath or coherence to explain that at the moment. “You’re my friend. I trust you,” he managed. He drew Maas down to a kiss. The long fingers inside him curled, beckoning, and Roy gasped sharply. “And I want you,” he added against Maas’ mouth. “Now, Maas.”

He could feel Maas’ lips curve into his crooked smile. “Now that doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Maas told him.

Maas withdrew his fingers slowly, stroking them across that electric place inside Roy, leaving him trembling. When Maas started to move between his legs, though, Roy put a hand on his chest to make him wait and turned over. He released a sigh as he felt Maas’ chest against his back, and Maas curled them both up.

Roy liked this feeling, of Maas’ long, lean strength folded around him. He couldn’t stop a sensuous wriggle as Maas’ arms wrapped around his ribs.

Though Roy would never have admitted it out loud, he felt very safe like this.

“Is this all right?” Maas asked against the nape of Roy’s neck, and it was Roy’s turn to shiver.

“It’s good,” he said softly.

And then it was better than good, because Maas was pressing into him, and there was something about Maas’ care that always undid Roy. And maybe he’d been under too much stress lately, because suddenly he was on the edge of tears for no reason he could find. Gentleness shouldn’t cause tears, should it?

Maas was as slow now as he had been earlier, and for once Roy gave himself up to it, letting Maas set the pace, long, leisurely thrusts, until he lay shuddering under his friend, completely abandoned to Maas’ touch. Heat built gradually in Roy until he almost felt he was floating, only Maas’ weight anchoring him. It wasn’t until Maas’ hand slid between Roy’s legs that the heat tipped over into explosion, and Roy jerked against Maas’ body behind him, as Maas drove into him faster, harder now. Fire drowned Roy’s senses.

He drifted, pleased that Maas was still curled around him.

“Feel better now?” Maas asked quietly.

Roy sighed a bit. “I can never keep anything from you, can I?”

“Nope. Besides,” Maas’ arms tightened, “you never want me to make love to you like this unless you’re feeling shaken up.”

“Thanks, Maas,” Roy said, past a small catch in his throat.

He felt Maas smile against his shoulder.

“My pleasure,” Maas whispered.


Roy knelt on the cliffs in the darkness, wondering why he wasn’t in shock.

Shouldn’t he be? Shouldn’t he have difficulty believing that he had set half a city on fire? Fire so hot it exploded stone.

But he had never doubted for an instant that it was his hand, his will, his doing that caused the destruction he now looked down on.

His power.

Even if the amplifier was no part of him, it had been his power.

He had always known his own power.

Shock would have made things vague, perhaps a bit more bearable. Not so hideously solid and exact in his sight and memory. Every flash of light, every hurtling shard of stone precise and brilliant.

Maybe he didn’t deserve that mercy.

The fist that held his gloves and that glowing ring clenched tighter.

“Roy.”

Roy bowed his head. It didn’t really surprise him that Maas had found him here. Maas always knew how to find him. He waited for whatever words his friend might find for this occasion.

Maybe they would even help.

But Maas said nothing, only set his hands on Roy’s shoulders, kneeling behind him on the sand.

Roy didn’t know how long they sat like that in silence, but eventually he leaned back just a little and Maas folded his arms around him. Roy breathed in for what felt like the first time all night, breathed out, felt himself shaking. Had he been shaking before? Or had it just started?

“Don’t let go?” he asked, voice faint and thready.

“I won’t,” Maas assured him.

And he didn’t, as Roy listened to the sobs that tore loose from his own chest, distantly amazed at their violence. They subsided slowly, and after a time Roy lay back in Maas’ arms, exhausted and wrung.

Maas still said nothing, only stroking Roy’s hair back from his forehead. They sat together there until the sun rose and called them back down to the camp.

End

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Mar 02, 04
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Rosin

Roy considers some of the difficulties of his relationship with Ed. Light Purple Drama, I-3.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

“…that only leaves Ausred. Rumors say that the research center there has been reopened, but the Alchemist supposedly in charge is someone who’s been dead for two years.” Hawkeye passed her notes over to Roy.

“Hm.” He paged through them. “None of my correspondents are in that area, are they?”

“No, sir, and few are in a good position to move from what Fury says.” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Taisa, what about Edward-kun? This is the kind of rumor he might reasonably have an interest in.” Roy smiled.

“True enough. I believe he cleared out one of the storerooms, today, for experiments. Ask him to speak with me when he’s done.”

“Yes, sir.”

Roy contemplated the Captain’s solution as she left. It should work. Edward’s interest would be unremarkable, and if anyone could kick the truth to the surface, it was his hunter.

His knowing, willing hunter.

It still surprised Roy that Edward had given himself to Roy’s cause. He knew Edward was uncomfortable with what Roy meant to do, but he hadn’t truly expected even tolerance. The most he had hoped for was Edward’s silence after he left. His long familiarity with Edward’s steel sense of ethics had not led him to expect the young man to condone cold-blooded murder. Edward’s offer of allegiance had both comforted and worried him.

On his darker nights, Roy wondered if Edward had confused desire for his lover with approval for his leader.

It had not surprised him, at the beginning, that Edward had let Roy take him to bed. Roy knew perfectly well that he was a skilled lover, and he had been careful with Edward. Careful not to alarm or completely overwhelm him. Careful not to let their time in bed affect their relationship at work. Too much. And despite Edward’s occasional grumbles about how no contract was worth putting up with Roy’s ego, it was clear that Edward was enjoying their liaison.

If he had know, then, where it would lead them Roy might have chosen to break the contract himself.

Because it had all become tangled. The unthinking purity of Edward’s response to him had drawn Roy, bound him to Ed more tightly than any other lover ever had. And the more he had seen of that bright spirit, the closer he had come, the more he had found himself relaxing into Ed’s trust. He knew that it was not a good idea to relax, and still couldn’t seem to stop himself.

At the start, eight years ago, Edward’s sense of rightness had been a useful extra. Roy had used him as a dowsing rod, to tell where corruption had spread. Half the time just giving Edward his head had solved the problem, too.

So why hadn’t Edward rejected the cold expediency of Roy’s plans? Roy couldn’t deny that Edward’s acceptance had soothed him, comforted him with a gut-level assurance that what he did was right. He had spent too long contemplating the dirtiness of his own methods to accept that comfort easily, but Roy had come to rely on it more than he knew he should.

Had Edward’s trust of Roy’s touch led him to trust Roy’s integrity? Was that all that had led him to it?

Could Roy really face drawing back, if that was what it took to leave his hunter’s judgment unimpaired?

Roy started a bit when a knock sounded at his door, followed by Edward himself.

“Taisa, Hawkeye-taii said you wanted to see me.”

Roy held out his hand. Edward tilted his head, curiously, but crossed the room and let Roy pull him down to a kiss.

“Should I have locked the door behind me?” Edward asked against Roy’s lips, sounding amused. Roy didn’t answer. He drew back to look at Edward, grateful that the afternoon sun would be in Ed’s eyes and he wouldn’t see the uncertainty in Roy’s.

“May I hold you for a little while, my hawk?” he asked softly. Ed looked at him wordlessly for a moment, perhaps a bit taken aback, but settled into Roy’s arms willingly enough. Roy suppressed a shiver as Ed casually rested his cheek against Roy’s hair.

The thought of letting go, permanently, affected him with something uncomfortably like panic. Roy didn’t like losing control that way, but he had yet to see any solution. For now he simply bore with it, and hoped a solution would present itself in time.

He leaned his head against Ed’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

End

Title Note: Rosin is powdered pine sap (fir, I believe). It is used, among other things, on the bows of stringed instruments to provide the right amount of friction against the strings. Without this it is far more difficult to control the sound and shape it into accurate or complex music.

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Mar 02, 04
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yavie, Liana, Sophia, moon01234 and 6 other readers sent Plaudits.

The Door

Ed’s choices, two years later. Drama, I-3.

Ed sat at the kitchen table with his chin in his hands, looking fixedly at the open watch in front of him. He was supposed to leave for Central City tomorrow. Al and Winry were coming to the station with him to see him off. And Ed wasn’t even sure he was going. He didn’t used to be this indecisive, he brooded. He didn’t even realize Al had entered the room until he heard the door close.

“Nii-san?”

“Am I really doing the right thing, Al?” Ed asked softly.

“Do you think you’re not?” Al asked back. Ed eyed him. Al had always been subtle, far more so than Ed himself, and this was not up to his usual standards of misdirection. Al just smiled. Maybe he was going easy on Ed because Ed was already having a hard time.

“I don’t want to leave,” he said, looking back at the watch.

“Yes you do.”

Ed blinked up at his brother, who came and put an arm around his shoulders. Ed leaned his head against Al’s chest with a faint smile. Al knew how much it comforted him to listen to his brother’s living heartbeat.

“If you stayed here all the time,” Al continued, “you’d explode from your own fidgetiness.”

“Fidgetiness?” Ed objected.

“Give it another couple of weeks, Nii-san, and you’ll be bouncing off the walls here and Winry will be throwing wrenches at you again. What you mean,” Al concluded, “is that you don’t want to lose us.”

Ed flinched.

“Nii-san, you’re not our father,” Al murmured.

“But what if I am?” Ed slumped. “I mean, what if this was how it started with him, too? A few trips to the city to pick up something for Mom, and then some trips further away to find some interesting books or talk to scholars, and then he got into something bigger than he could understand, and the next thing you know he’s creating monsters and destroying cities and not giving a damn about his family.”

Al rapped him gently on the head with his knuckles. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Hey,” Ed mumbled.

“Is this bigger than you can understand?” Al asked, curiously.

Ed thought about that.

“It used to be,” he said slowly. “I never thought the reasons why stupid people were left in charge was something I needed to know. It couldn’t help us, so I didn’t pay attention. Now,” he paused, “now I understand the basics. I see that he’s trying to put civilian government in place of military. And I’m pretty sure he plans to go all the way.”

“You think he means to bring back the Parliament?” Al sounded surprised. Ed didn’t blame him. Their grandparents hadn’t been born when there was last a civilian government.

“I think so. Don’t ask me how, but I think so.” Ed laughed shortly. “I guess if anyone could do it, it would be him.”

“Do you trust him?”

Now there was a multi-sided question. Al was good at those. Ed was silent for a good twenty heartbeats before answering.

“I trust his intentions. I trust his means… to work. I don’t trust him to tell me the truth, because he’ll lie through his teeth if he thinks he needs to. But I trust him to have a reason for doing it.”

“Do you trust his integrity?”

“I trust that there’s a line he won’t go beyond. I don’t know where it is.” Ed contemplated his answer and sighed. “Am I doing the right thing?”

Al’s arm tightened around him. “I can’t think of anyone better to be doing it. We’ll miss you, but you’re not a home-maker, Nii-san. As long as you come home to visit… and to rest… it’ll be all right.”

Ed listened to another handful of heartbeats before he nodded and straightened.

“All right, then.” He pressed his hands together and laid his fingers on the watch-case.


Ed stood looking, with some trepidation, at the perfectly normal red-painted door in front of him. If he really wanted to do this, he had to start with this door.

Did he really want to do this?

Ed fingered the weight in his pocket and straightened his shoulders. This was no time to have an attack of nerves. He had made his decision already and wasn’t going to back down. He gathered himself and knocked on the door.

A light tread sounded and the door opened to reveal a slender woman with short hair the color of brown sugar and a gentle smile.

“Why, Ed-kun, what a surprise! Come in, come in.”

“Thank you, Gracia-san.” Ed stepped inside, looking around cautiously for small children.

“Elysia just went in for a nap,” Gracia-san said without turning around.

It really was true that mothers had supernatural powers, Ed reflected.

“Now, let me have a look at you,” she continued, taking Ed by the shoulders. “You’ve grown up so much in just two years!”

Ed stifled a sigh, having resigned himself to hearing this observation. Not that he wasn’t extremely pleased to have made it to five foot six inches, because he was. And it could have been a lot worse; you’re still so small, for example. But, still…

“I think your hair is almost twice as long as it was! And you don’t look nearly as lost in that jacket as you did in your old coat.”

Ed blinked. Well, that was a new sort of growing-up measurement. Better than the inch counting everyone else did…

“And you must have grown three or four inches!”

This time the sigh escaped, and Gracia-san laughed. “I’m sorry, Ed-kun, you must be tired of hearing that.”

“A little,” Ed admitted, ruefully. “Gracia-san, is Hughes-taisho home?”

“Of course, he’ll be very pleased to see you again. Come along.” She led the way to her living room.

“Ed! You should have written and said if you were going to be visiting Central!” Hughes exclaimed, rising from the couch to seize Ed’s hand. “And you’ve really…” he broke off as his wife laid a finger over his lips. He looked at her in confusion, and she giggled and shook her head. Enlightenment dawned with a grin and a tolerant look at Ed.

Hughes hadn’t changed much at all, that Ed could see. Perhaps a few more lines around his eyes. His eyes themselves, though, were as sharp as ever as he waved Ed to the couch across from him.

“So, does business or pleasure bring you today?” he asked as Gracia-san left them.

“Business, I suppose. I need to ask a favor.”

Hughes raised a brow.

“I need to see him.”

“Ah. I expect Hawkeye would let you in, but it never hurts to have some extra weight when you want him to stand still long enough to talk,” Hughes allowed. “Any particular reason, or just a visit for old time’s sake?”

Clearly he didn’t believe the second possibility for one moment.

Ed looked down. “I need to give him my watch back.”

“You didn’t before you left?” Hughes asked mildly, not sounding surprised.

“It wasn’t ended yet. Now… now I think it is. A real end.” Ed looked up to gauge Hughes’ response.

Hughes nodded slowly. “I’ll take you in to see him.”

Yes, Ed thought Hughes understood. Not surprising, considering his closest friend was also an alchemist. Hughes had probably picked up quite a bit of the symbolic language.

The only real ending was a new beginning.


Another day, another door. This one was more intimidating than the last one, because Ed knew for a fact that one of the most cuttingly sarcastic bastards he’d ever met was on the other side. And Ed was about to make a huge target of himself.

Deep breath. Ignore Hughes nearly snickering behind him. Ignore Hawkeye doing the same in her own deadpan way.

His knock was immediately answered with a brisk “Enter.”

Ed was covertly relieved that Hughes followed him in. The office was spacious and bright with sun from the long windows. Roy Mustang sat behind his desk, hands folded loosely under his chin, and didn’t say a word.

Not the best possible start.

Ed nerved himself and went straight to the desk, ignoring the chairs Hughes was busy dragging up. He pulled his silver watch out of his pocket and laid it down gently.

“Dai-Soutou. I need to return this to you.” He stepped back.

Mustang sat unmoving, regarding the watch. “I recall mentioning that I’m not the one to return this to,” he commented at last.

Deep breath.

“Yes, you are.”

Mustang tilted a brow.

“I took this from your hand,” Ed told him firmly. “You are the one I need to give it back to.”

“Very well,” Mustang agreed after another long pause. He picked up the watch, paused, flipped the case open, and smiled.

Ed refrained from growling, wondering whether the man actually knew about what used to be written in the case or was just checking on general principles. Never mind. Now was the time to sit down.

“So,” Ed said, once he was comfortable, “I am no longer, even technically, a State Alchemist, I’m just plain, civilian Edward Elric, right? No connection to the military or the state, not under anyone’s command.”

Mustang looked at him a bit oddly at this recitation of the obvious. “Correct,” he agreed.

“Then tell me what you need me to do,” Ed finished.

Silence.

“I beg your pardon?” Mustang asked, looking bemused.

“Has this job softened your head?” Ed snapped. “I’m saying I’ll work for you. What do you need?”

For once, Roy Mustang appeared to be at a loss.

“Not to discourage you, Ed,” Hughes put in, “but why?”

Ed looked out one of the windows.

“I’ve been traveling again, these last eight or nine months,” he said quietly. “I’ve watched what’s happening. Seen what you’re doing. The garrisons recalled, the soldiers retired. But only lower officers discharged, mostly.” He looked back at Mustang. “You’re keeping most of the ones who would make trouble for people where you can see them.”

Mustang’s eyes widened just a touch.

“What?” Ed glared. “You thought I could work for you for over four years and not pick up any of this?”

The eyes flickered. This time Ed growled.

“Should I have expected it?” Mustang asked, coolly. “From someone with your temper and lack of patience? Should I have expected any kind of mature observations?” Ed bared his teeth.

“As much as I should have expected altruism from you,” he cut back.

“By your own admission then, not at all.”

Ed flung himself out of the chair and stalked to the window before he tried to wipe that smirk off Mustang’s face.

“All right, I think that’s enough,” Hughes said wearily. “Stop trying to send him away again, Roy, you need him.”

Ed blinked. Send him away? Again? Again? He frowned, thinking back on his last conversation with Mustang. His eyes narrowed and he turned back to look at them.

“Taisho,” Mustang said, cold, warning.

“Roy,” Hughes returned, soft, urgent, “you know it’s true.”

Mustang set his mouth.

“It’s not like you can say he’s too young now,” Hughes added.

“Really?” Mustang drawled. Hughes gave him a look.

“How old were you when you tied yourself to the military? Nineteen, wasn’t it?”

“That was different,” Mustang snapped.

“Yes, it was, because you were a lot more naive than Ed was, even two years ago.”

It was Mustang’s turn to growl.

“Roy, haven’t you been over this already?” Hughes ran a hand through his hair. “If you hadn’t picked him up someone else would have. And the fact that you benefited from his search has nothing to do with how much pain it caused him. He would have died along the way without your support.”

Ed was very still. They seemed to have forgotten that he was in the room.

“That doesn’t make the pain any less either, Hughes,” Mustang replied in a low voice. “How can I keep using his ethics, his vision, in ways he doesn’t understand?”

“So tell me,” Ed said.

Both men jerked at his voice, as if they really had forgotten his presence.

“I was willing to keep doing this blind if it was necessary,” Ed told Mustang, catching his eyes, “because I’ve seen the overall reason. But if it isn’t, then tell me. Tell me why, when you send me somewhere or want me to watch someone.”

Mustang looked at him for a long moment. “What reason do you have for doing this?” he asked at last. “Can you care this much for the well being of people you’ve never met?”

Ed snorted. “I’ve met more of them than you, I’ll bet.” He paused to think, though. How to put it? “It isn’t people,” he said slowly, “or the nation. It’s the people I have met. All of them.” He slanted a look at Mustang. “Just because I’m not a State Alchemist doesn’t mean I’m not an alchemist any more,” he said, obliquely.

“Quite the reverse,” Mustang agreed softly.

It hung in the air between them. An alchemist works for the common good.

A sudden thought struck Ed, and he smiled wickedly and came to lean on the back of his chair.

“After all,” he said, “you wouldn’t want me just running around loose and doing this on my own without your support would you?”

Mustang’s eyes narrowed again, but Ed spotted the corner of his mouth curling up for a moment.

“Indeed,” Mustang agreed, voice silky. “It would be negligent to allow such a thing. So, Elric-kun, what job title did you have in mind?”

“Eh?”

“Did you want to enter the military itself? Or did you have a civilian post in mind? Or is it up to me to invent one?”

Ed quailed to think what Mustang might come up with at this point. Something about the man’s phrasing was nudging at his mind, though. Something that seemed significant in light of the things Hughes had revealed. Title. He likes having titles to call people by, Ed mused. It’s the way he likes to see the world. So he can keep it from coming too close?

Interesting thought. And it sparked another interesting thought. Ed grinned.

“Well, I was kind of thinking about Investigative Inspector of General Inquiries,” he said innocently.

A snort of laughter came from Hughes, not terribly muffled by the hand over his mouth. Mustang paused to direct a dire we-will-discuss-this-later look at him. Hughes eeped theatrically and edged back.

“Why don’t we stay with Investigator on the official paperwork, Elric-kun?” Mustang suggested evenly.

“Whatever you say,” Ed agreed. “Sir.”

His commander’s eyes glinted, promising retribution at some later date when Ed thought he was safe.

And that was just the way it should be.

End

Last Modified: Oct 09, 07
Posted: Mar 05, 04
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The Rain

Ed and Roy go for a walk in the rain… at least that was Ed’s intention. Fluffy Drama, I-2.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Edward Elric had spent years living out of his suitcase, and thought it a waste of time to actually unpack when he traveled. Accordingly, he dumped his current suitcase on top of a very battered chest of drawers, opened it and considered his unpacking done.

Ed wandered into the main room of the hostel suite and glanced at Roy, who stood at the window looking out at the breaking storm. They had barely beaten it to the door. Lightning flashed, a crack of thunder hard on its heels.

“So, I guess this means you’ll spend today holed up inside?” Ed asked.

“I actually like rain, you know,” Roy answered, tone reminiscent. “I used to go out in it all the time when I was little. Especially storms like this. Even when I started specializing, I still liked walking in it. It wasn’t until later that it became,” he paused a moment before finishing, “inadvisable.”

Too dangerous, Ed translated. He gave Roy’s back a long, thoughtful look, chewing on his lip. They had almost two days, yet, before the Fel garrison commander was expecting them. He knew Roy wanted to surprise the man, but maybe they had a little time, too, for the wistfulness in Roy’s voice.

Ed went to Roy’s side and held out his hands. “Come on.”

Roy laid his hands in Ed’s with a tiny smile. “Where?” he inquired.

“Outside.”

Roy halted. Ed tightened his grasp.

“Look, no one knows we’re here yet, right? And you’re out of uniform. And neither of us have ever been here before so it’s not like anyone will recognize us. We’re about as safe as we can get.” He tugged lightly, urging Roy to come with him. After another moment of frozen hesitation, Roy did.

They had wound up in one of the second floor suites with an outside entrance. The landing in front of their door was small enough that Ed, locking up, felt the shiver that ran through Roy as the rain struck them. Roy descended the stairs slowly, looking up rather than at where his feet were going, and Ed had a momentary qualm. He couldn’t, offhand, remember Roy acting quite this absent-minded ever before.

When they reached the street Roy stood with his eyes closed for a moment, and Ed saw another shiver pass over him. Lightning flashed. In the taut silence before the thunder Roy tossed his head back, flinging his hair out of his eyes, and laughed. He spun towards Ed and held out a hand.

“Come on,” he called over a long rumble.

Ed’s eyes widened.

Roy’s smile was open and unconstrained, and his eyes were bright. He looked barely older than Ed.

“Come on,” Roy repeated. His grin practically glowed. “If you think you can catch me!” And he was off running, with another laugh, stride long and easy. Ed stood, open mouthed, for several long moments before collecting himself sufficiently to give chase.

Roy was in the town square by the time Ed caught him, standing with his face tipped up to the sheeting water. Ed touched his shoulder just a bit cautiously. Justifiably so, in his opinion, since Roy promptly clasped his wrists and proceeded to swing the both of them in circles until Ed was dizzy. When Roy finally caught him close, Ed could feel that he was laughing again.

When Roy kissed him, Ed tasted the rain on his lips. Roy’s mouth was hot in contrast to the water running down them, hot and… bright somehow. That was the only word that came to Ed, the only one that fit this open, laughing, dripping, Roy who kissed him the the middle of the town’s public center with thunder rolling overhead. Ed clung to him, dizzy again. He felt like he’d been dropped from a great height, and somehow missed the ground.

Roy drew back slowly, resting his palm against Ed’s cheek for a moment before taking his hand. They strolled back through the storm, Ed just a bit dazed, Roy with a bounce in his step that almost qualified as skipping.

“Here,” Ed said, once they were standing in their entryway again, “let me dry us off.”

Roy caught his hands, keeping them apart. “No, no, trying not to get too much water on the floor while dashing for towels is part of the fun,” he admonished, eyes sparkling.

Words failed Ed completely, and he let Roy drag him down the short hall without protest.

The bathroom was not made for two people, and Ed was laughing himself by the time they managed to peel off their soaked clothes and dump them in the tub to drain. Ed spent a moment longing for the plush robe he had stolen from Roy; cotton just wasn’t the same. They completed the afternoon’s exercise in the miniscule kitchenette, where Roy made tea.

“Is this part of the fun too?” Ed asked with a tiny grin, as he accepted his mug.

“Certainly,” Roy answered serenely. “In the summer, at any rate. Hot cocoa in the fall.”

Ed forgot his tea, gazing up at Roy instead. He had never seen Roy’s eyes this brilliant, or his mouth this relaxed, not drawn the way it usually was even when he smiled. He was absolutely beautiful like this. Roy looked up from his own mug and tilted his head, questioning. Ed caught up Roy’s free hand, bending his head over it, pressing the strong fingers to his lips. “Roy…” he whispered.

Roy knelt, coming down to where he could see Ed’s face again. “Ed? What is it?”

Ed looked at that unaccustomed, wild happiness lingering in Roy’s face and was suddenly, absolutely infuriated. He pulled Roy into his arms and buried his face in Roy’s shoulder.

“Damn them all to hell for making you hide this,” he breathed, almost shaking with rage. He heard the faint thunk of Roy’s mug on the table, felt Roy’s hand stroke his still-damp hair.

“Ssh. It’s all right. It’s only hidden, not gone. If it were,” Roy’s voice picked up an edge of teasing, “you’d never have convinced me to surprise you, today.”

Ed relaxed again with a shaky sigh. “I just wish,” he stopped, considered, and went on anyway, “that I could see you this way more often.”

“Well, now you know one way,” Roy told him. Ed lifted his head to give his lover a wry smile.

“Guess so. Thunderstorms. Who’d have thought?”

Roy gave him back another bright grin. “Get your tea,” he directed, “I want to watch the rest of it.”

Ed trailed after him, and consented to curl up with a blanket in the open doorway, where they could see the sky, but insisted that Roy sit upwind and keep him from getting wet again.

End

Last Modified: Apr 25, 12
Posted: Mar 06, 04
Name (optional):
Kristal, 13_star_witch, Liana, Nikevi, moon01234, In Joke Taken (In_Joke_Taken), DBZVelena, order_of_chaos, daxion and 13 other readers sent Plaudits.

Glow

Ed gets home after a rather rough trip. Fluffy Drama, I-2.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Roy/Ed

Ed’s fingers were too cold and stiff to fumble around with his keys, so he knocked instead. When Roy opened the door, Ed glared at him.

“I hate being cold, I hate giving reports to stupid Generals, and I hate sleeping on train seats,” he declared, stepping in out of the biting chill.

“Mm. Makes you wish you were still short enough to fit on one neatly, doesn’t it?” Roy shut the door, shooting a sly smile over his shoulder.

Ed was in no mood for banter, and gave him a flat look and a cold, “No.” He ignored Roy’s raised brow in favor to trying to get out of his coat. It was a real trick when it hurt to lift his arms above chest height. He slumped a little in relief when Roy came to help.

“You’re that stiff from sleeping on the train?” Roy asked rather skeptically.

“No.” Ed swore he could hear his muscles creak as he made for the kitchen. “I’m that stiff from sitting in endless meetings, chasing idiot criminals over rooftops, sitting in more meetings and sleeping on the train.” To his delight, the kettle was already on. He eyed the cupboard that held mugs, doubtfully. Could he reach that far right now?

Roy’s hands slipped over his shoulders. “You’re walking like a ninety-year-old with arthritis,” he noted. “Sit down.”

“If I sit down I’ll fall asleep,” Ed protested.

Roy came around to face him, and brushed the backs of his fingers against Ed’s cheek. “Edward. You’re home now,” he murmured.

Ed, listening to the echoes that sentence made in his mind, closed his eyes, and leaned against Roy for a moment. Roy’s arms closed around him gently, careful not to stress sore muscles. When Roy nudged him toward a chair, Ed let him. He watched a bit enviously as Roy reached down a mug without a single twinge or wince. The man didn’t appreciate his blessings, that was what.

Once he had folded Ed’s hands around his tea, Roy looked Ed up and down, and pursed his lips. “Stay here for a bit,” he directed on his way out.

Ed spared the retreating back an incredulous look. There must be something more interesting than he had expected in the tea today, if Roy thought he would voluntarily move ever again.

Faintly, Ed heard water running.

Well, all right, maybe he would move, then. Just not yet.

Roy returned, collected some glasses and a pitcher of water, and left again. Ed looked after him quizzically before deciding it didn’t matter and finishing his tea. It was getting easier, as the mug got lighter.

“Ah, good, you finished.” Roy took the mug away and held out a hand. “Come on.”

Ed winced at the mere thought of standing and walking, and eyed Roy, trying to judge how determined he was. Roy looked amused.

“I suppose I could carry you,” he offered. “Do you really want me to?”

Ed weighed his options, and reluctantly came down on the side of dignity. He hauled himself, slowly, out of the chair, only too glad to let Roy support him as he hobbled down the hall. Pleasure at the sight of the bathtub full of steaming water warred with his awareness that getting his boots off would be a serious trial. Busy contemplating the geometry involved in that effort, Ed blinked as Roy sat him down again and started to undo the footgear in question.

Well, that would make things easier.

Ed was unsurprised that Roy helped him with the rest of undressing. He had obviously observed how limited Ed’s current range of motion was. He tilted his head, however, when Roy stripped off his own clothes.

“Roy?”

“I somewhat doubt you would make it over the edge without dunking yourself just now,” Roy told him.

Ed had to admit, if only to himself, that Roy had a point. Ed loved this bath; it was deep enough to sit upright in and still have water brushing his chin. But that made it rather tall, and his legs weren’t any happier about lifting than his arms.

With a good deal of hissing and grumbling, not to mention assistance, Ed managed to lower himself into the tub. It felt boiling hot, which was just about right.

He noted another advantage to Roy’s presence once they were in the water. He made a handy backrest, and kept Ed from having to lean on still-chilly porcelain. Best of all, even if Ed fell asleep, Roy was here to keep him from drowning. Ed rested his head on Roy’s shoulder.

Slowly, the water began to feel less searingly hot to his fingers and toes, and Ed began to relax. He drifted until Roy nudged him back to awareness.

“Mmm?” Ed asked.

“Drink something before you get too lightheaded.”

Ed opened his eyes to find a glass of water in front of him. Temporarily too content to argue, he took it. It was pleasingly cool in his throat, and Ed felt a bit more reconciled with the world as a whole, sipping his water and leaning against Roy’s chest. When he was finished he stretched, cautiously, feeling a bit less like that arthritic old man Roy had compared him to.

“Feeling better?” Roy asked.

“Everything still hurts, but it isn’t all one piece of pain anymore,” Ed decided after a moment’s thought. Roy chuckled.

“If you feel like you can walk, I’ll see what I can do about that.”

Ed managed to dry himself off, but let Roy wind an arm around his waist to help him up the stairs. He greeted their bed with a happy sigh. He would have liked to flop over onto it, but wasn’t that flexible. The best he could manage at the moment was a crawl that ended with a sprawl in the middle. Roy pulled up a blanket to keep him warm, and knelt beside him. Ed flinched a little as Roy’s fingers pressed into his back.

“Hm,” Roy commented. His touch lightened, stroking the grain of Ed’s muscles. Ed sighed. “This may take a while,” Roy told him, as he moved to straddle Ed’s hips.

Ed made ah and ack and ggh noises as Roy’s hands loosened his muscles, pressed pain out of them to be swept away.

“Breathe,” Roy reminded him as he worked on Ed’s shoulder.

“Trying,” Ed hissed between his teeth. His next exclamation was a good deal less articulate, as Roy found a knot and pressed down. It loosened with something like a snap, and Ed lay panting as Roy’s fingers smoothed up and down his neck. “Ow,” he remarked at last.

Roy leaned down to kiss the back of his neck lightly. “All right?” he asked.

“Mmph,” Ed answered.

Roy laughed quietly as he moved to sit crosslegged where he could reach Ed’s arm. After his shoulder and sides, that only rated a few erks from Ed. He was dozing again by the time Roy pulled the blanket over his shoulders, and moved down beside Ed’s leg instead. That got a variety of noises again, including a few gniis. Ed’s hamstrings felt like they’d been twisted until they double-kinked, and he twitched uncontrollably as Roy pressed his palm down the back of Ed’s thigh. He didn’t relax again until Roy started kneading his hips and rear.

“I think you almost pulled something here,” Roy said, passing his hand over Ed’s left cheek. “There’s a bit of swelling.”

“I can tell,” Ed winced.

“Hang on, then.” Roy was back in a few moments, and Ed felt something warm drip onto his skin. He smelled peppermint a moment later, and felt the warmth spread out as Roy rubbed it in. “You’re getting too old for this,” Roy teased.

“Oh yeah? Then what are you?” Ed grumbled.

“Too wise to do such things to myself,” Roy told him.

Ed would have retorted, but Roy had picked up his foot, and dug his thumbs into the center.

“Aaahh,” he sighed, instead. He snuggled into the covers, humming happily, and wriggled his toes. He was deeply disappointed when Roy finished. As far as Ed was concerned, no foot rub could possibly last long enough.

Roy lay down beside him, one hand on Ed’s back. Ed stretched, very slowly, feeling many of the knots in his body finally come undone.

“Thanks,” he murmured, sleepily, turning over. Roy’s hand came up to touch his face.

“My pleasure.” Then he grinned. “One of these days I really will make a recording of those sounds you make.”

Ed glared though half shut eyes. He growled, and reached up to wind his arms around Roy’s shoulders so he could pull Roy down and kiss him. Roy stroked his hair back.

“One more glass of water, and then you can sleep,” he said.

Ed growled some more, but let Roy coax him out of bed long enough to get a drink while Roy put the covers back to rights. He was better pleased when Roy joined him on his return to bed, and drew Ed into his arms.

“Welcome back,” Roy murmured into Ed’s hair.

Ed pressed closer against the length of Roy’s body and smiled.

End

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Mar 08, 04
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Arrghigiveup, Liana, order_of_chaos, moon01234, In Joke Taken (In_Joke_Taken), amaresu, daxion, GreenAwesomeness and 27 other readers sent Plaudits.

Sustained

When it comes down to action everyone has to find a way to handle the stress. Plot With Porn, I-4.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Ed/Roy

When he got the note that Mustang wanted to see both Ed and his staff in his office, Ed figured it was probably bad news. Mustang’s expression certainly seemed to confirm it, mouth tight and eyes distant. His first words sounded like good news, though.

“We’re being recalled for assignment in Central again.”

“What area?” Havoc wanted to know.

The tight mouth twisted. “Administration. Precisely what I hoped for.”

Everyone looked at each other, and then back at their commander, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“According to my network,” Mustang went on, “Bradley will be making an unannounced visit here in three days.” He looked down at his hands, braced flat on his desk. “I will be going to Altlast to meet him before he arrives in East City.”

“Alone?” Hawkeye asked, sharply. Mustang’s expression stilled.

“No. You’ll be coming with me.”

Hawkeye relaxed, but Ed also noticed her eyes narrowing and her right hand tensing. His stomach lurched, and his gaze snapped around to Mustang.

“It’s time.” Those two quiet words echoed through the room. Or maybe it was just inside Ed’s head. About once every week or so he remembered that he’d given his loyalty to a man who intended to assassinate their head of state. He generally shoved the memory back in its box as quickly as he could, because it made his stomach twist. Somehow, he didn’t think that was going to work this time.

“Why?” he whispered. “Why now?”

Mustang’s mouth drew down before he sighed and answered. “Because he’s coming for me. Everything points toward him suspecting what I’ve been doing, and coming to catch me at a moment of disorganization and confusion to confirm it.”

And if he confirmed it… Ed shivered and lowered his head, suddenly wishing that Al were here for him to lean against, and in the next instant fervently grateful that Al wasn’t here and wouldn’t be involved.

“I need the rest of you to conceal the fact that we’re gone,” Mustang continued, quietly.

Havoc whistled. “Tall order.” He contemplated his cigarette for a few moments, thinking, before he nodded. “I think we can do it; it’ll take a little character assassination, though.” He grinned at Hawkeye.

“How so?” she asked, warily.

“Hell, no one wants to be anywhere you can see them when you’re in a bad mood,” Havoc grinned. “All we have to do is act scared and no one will come near this office.”

Hawkeye’s expression chilled.

“Er, case in point, ma’am?” Fury pointed out tentatively.

“We will take what advantages present themselves,” Mustang said. Hawkeye glared at her smirking superior a moment before she sniffed and settled.

Ed listened with half an ear as deadly serious strategy was jokingly debated. He didn’t think he was the only one made queasy by this whole thing, but you would never have known it by their tones. Ed found himself looking at Mustang’s hands, eyes tracing the circle on the back of his glove, thinking about the fire that would leap out from it. A visceral memory of that glove moving down his back washed through him, and Ed had to take a few deep breaths to keep from choking on that juxtaposition. What was he doing involved in this? Finally, Mustang turned to him.

“If the timing could look anything but suspicious, I would send you away, but that isn’t possible. I want you to keep as low a profile as you can until this is over, though. If you have some research that’s been waiting, that would be perfect.”

Ed leveled an evil glare at him, suddenly angry at Mustang for repeating his own thoughts. For offering him such an escape. For taking all the danger on himself. “You would send me away?” he repeated, voice grating.

Mustang’s gaze turned piercing, and his tone took on the edge of command that he rarely used with Ed. “You will not be involved in this.”

“You think I want to be?” Ed snapped, swinging sharply back to his original distaste. Mustang’s face closed, his eyes frozen now.

“Do you think I do either?” he asked in a perfectly conversational voice.

“No, that’s not…!” Ed broke off, not wanting to try to untangle his revulsion and fury and fear in front of their current audience. Roy’s expression was very distant, now, and Ed’s fear for him gained the upper hand.

“Sometimes problems solve each other,” Roy murmured in such a detached voice that ice threaded down Ed’s spine. He recognized that voice. He’d never heard Roy use it, but he remembered it. Years ago, in the rain, the offer of a trade… Al had been so furious with him after. Ed could feel that fury in his own chest now. Roy couldn’t possibly mean to…

Ed pulled in a deep breath, not at all sure what he wanted to say with it. Before he could decide, or, alternatively, howl with frustration, Hawkeye stepped in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Edward-kun.” When Ed looked in her eyes he saw a promise there, to guard Roy’s life as she had for years, and a request that he trust her. Did she hear it too? Would she guard Roy from himself? Ed chewed on his lip, and eventually nodded. Hawkeye nodded, firmly, back.

As they all left the office, Ed felt Mustang’s eyes on him.


Ed trudged down the street, hands in his pockets.

It had only taken about forty-five minutes of watching him pace the room, stopping at unpredictable moments to stare at nothing, before Al had thrown him out. Well, all right, Al hadn’t actually thrown him out, but his brother’s voice had been more than usually exasperated when he told Ed that he should just go talk to Mustang-taisa already. Because that man was the only thing that ever got his older brother so wound up.

Al was right, and Ed had to find out what was going on with Mustang. Why had he spoken like that, earlier? Could he honestly think it would serve something if he didn’t come back? Who else did the idiot man expect to pick up the pieces?

There was no answer when Ed knocked at Mustang’s door, so he let himself in. He could hear, faintly, music coming from upstairs, and followed it. When he found the source he stopped short in the door of Roy’s bedroom.

Roy was perched in the broad window ledge that usually served as an auxiliary desk, and he had a violin tucked under his chin. His fingers slid smoothly over the neck, other hand sweeping the bow across the strings. Delicate, ringing notes swirled through the room.

At the scuff of Ed’s boots, Roy looked up, music pausing. Ed was seized with the fear that Roy was sufficiently withdrawn, or upset, or unbalanced, or whatever the hell he was that he would turn away. That he would hide this revelation.

“Don’t stop,” Ed breathed, barely audible even in the sudden silence. After a still moment, a tiny smile crossed Roy’s lips, and he closed his eyes again. His hands slowed, the returning music softer than before.

Ed stayed where he was, entranced. He had seen Roy concentrating before, but never with such emotion. His face showed nothing, but the changing tones of the music set Roy himself on display, sharp, languorous, dark, dancing. Pure. One last note was drawn out, sustained without break for so long Ed saw spots because he’d been holding his breath, waiting for it to end.

As Roy started to pack the instrument away again the passion faded out of the room. Ed didn’t want it to go, didn’t like the distant look that was back in Roy’s eyes. He wanted to call back the brilliant intensity that had surrounded Roy while he played.

Well… there was another set of circumstances under which Roy often showed him something similar. And despite Roy’s past claims of not being a sex maniac, it was an offer he never hesitated to accept when Ed made it. And then, maybe, he would be here and warm and… alive again.

As Roy settled, a bit wearily perhaps, on the foot of his bed, Ed came to him and lifted Roy’s left hand.

“So that’s where these came from,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across the calluses on Roy’s fingertips. Roy only lifted one shoulder, sketching a shrug.

“I haven’t played often lately; they’ll hurt tomorrow, a little.” Ed was really starting to dislike the detachment in Roy’s eyes. Time for a more direct approach, then.

“If you die doing this, the way you think you’re going to,” Ed growled, lifting Roy’s chin until they were eye to eye, “I swear I’ll bind your soul to your damn desk, and you’ll spend the rest of eternity buried in paperwork.”

That got a brief laugh, and Roy’s eyes warmed, but he still didn’t reach out for Ed and Ed was tired of waiting. He slid one knee onto the bed and closed the distance between them, the hand under Roy’s chin tilting his head further back so that Ed could kiss him properly. Roy stiffened for a heartbeat, two, five, and then, surprising Ed yet again, relaxed, opening his mouth under Ed’s. If Ed had expected anything, it was for Roy to react by pulling him down to the bed and kissing him senseless in retaliation. Instead, when they broke apart, Roy leaned back on his elbows, watching Ed from under his lashes.

With a mental shrug, Ed decided he could work with that, too. It wasn’t the first time Roy had given him the come-hither routine. He toed off his boots as he climbed all the way onto the bed to kneel over Roy’s hips. As an after-thought he got rid of his shirt, also. Roy did nothing as Ed unbuttoned his shirt as well, only watched with an odd waiting expression until Ed pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Then he stretched under Ed, curving his back, baring the line of his throat.

Ed paused. Did he…? Was he…? To test the hypothesis forming in the back of his mind, Ed leaned down and kissed the underside of Roy’s jaw. Roy responded with a low sigh, letting his head fall back still further.

As if to let Ed take the lead. A tingle shot down Ed’s nerves. He had thought about this before, but the only time Roy had ever invited it had been… different. That had been Ed’s gift to Roy, and Roy had still been the one directing things. Now…

Why now? Did Roy simply want to return the gift?

“Roy,” Ed murmured against his neck, “are you serious?”

“Are you?” Roy returned, with no inflection at all.

Ed considered for about half a second. Was he serious about making love to Roy? Easy answer. He leaned up and kissed Roy fiercely. “Yes.”

When Roy opened his eyes and looked up at Ed he was completely present again, eyes heated. “Then don’t stop,” he whispered. Ed smiled slowly.

“I won’t.”

Ed trailed open-mouthed kisses across Roy’s chest, and slid the fingers of his right hand, lightly, down Roy’s spine. Roy arched up into him and moaned softly. Ed had to rein back an answer in his own throat at that husky sound; he couldn’t remember Roy ever being so responsive so quickly before.

But, then, Ed had never been near while Roy prepared to kill someone. Maybe Roy needed to not think, tonight, needed to only feel. Needed to let someone else do the planning and maneuvering and considering.

Like how to best get their damn pants off. Ed growled a bit over the recalcitrant buttons.

He was interested to note, though, the way Roy gasped when Ed’s metal fingers brushed against his stomach. He trailed them deliberately over Roy’s hip, and a shudder swept through Roy. Ed smiled wickedly and set out to tease, little, random brushes of chill metal catching Roy’s breath again and again while Ed’s left palm slid, firm and slow, over Roy’s skin, soothing. Roy’s answer to Ed’s kiss was a little wild, now, but his hands stayed light where they grasped Ed’s hips.

Ed was discovering a few new things about Roy’s body. He’d known that Roy’s sensitive spots included the hollow of his shoulder and the palms of his hands. He’d known that Roy’s ribs were usefully ticklish. He hadn’t known that Roy liked to feel teeth on his throat, though he might have guessed that. He certainly hadn’t known that rubbing the tendon that ran up the inside of Roy’s thigh turned him limp and boneless.

Of course that only lasted until Ed ran his right thumb, delicately, up and down Roy’s hardening length, and Roy arched up off the bed, every muscle tensed.

Ed understood, now, why Roy concentrated so intently on him when they were in bed. He’d known how overwhelming it was to experience the play of tension and relaxation, of building pleasure, but to watch it happening, to watch his own hands calling it out of Roy’s body, fascinated him. The image of Roy calling music out of the violin flashed through Ed’s mind.

He leaned over Roy, sliding his right hand between Roy’s legs, back, parting him. Roy stretched, spreading his legs, inviting Ed further. But Ed kept his touch light, circling, never quite entering Roy’s body. Roy twisted under him, panting for breath now, eyes closed, lips parted, and Ed had a hard time pulling his attention away long enough to fish in the nightstand and find a familiar bottle by touch.

He had no idea how Roy managed these things one handed. Ed used his teeth to help him open it.

And then he hesitated.

He knew that the sensible thing to do would be to go slow. The one other time they had done this it had taken a while for Roy to relax, and Ed certainly didn’t want to hurt his lover. But the line of Roy’s body, the flex of his hips as Ed’s fingers slid into him, was suggesting something else, suggesting a welcome that sparked a fire in the pit of Ed’s stomach.

The heat in Roy’s eyes when he opened them only fanned it higher.

“Ed,” Roy whispered, “now. Now.” There was a tone in that velvet and steel voice Ed was far more used to hearing in his own. Need. Entreaty. It drew him like iron to a magnet. Screw slow, then.

Ed ran his hands up the backs of Roy’s legs, and pressed into him, steady, deep. Roy’s body let him in, heat so tight around him that Ed felt sweat starting on his skin.

Yes,” Roy breathed. “…yes…” There were more words, low and rough, but the hot shift of Roy’s body drowned them out. Ed already knew what they came down to anyway; Roy had said it earlier.

Don’t stop.

Ed bit his lip, no longer completely in control of his own movement as his hips flexed to drive him into the grip of that heat. He freed his still-slick left hand to close around Roy’s length, and the words dissolved into soft, raw sounds. Ed bit down harder, wanting to hold on, to wait for Roy, but he could feel the edge, feel the shiver that started at the back of his neck and would sweep down…

It caught him by surprise when Roy’s body seized him, and for an instant Ed was frozen by the shock. Then reflex drove him forward, and the heat closing around him stole his breath, his sight, stole everything but the electric tide pounding through him.

It finally left him slumped over Roy, forehead resting on his chest as they both gasped for air. When Ed finally levered himself up he wondered for a moment whether Roy was still conscious. He had never seen Roy in such a relaxed sprawl when he was awake. But Roy’s eyes opened, slowly, full of lazy satiation. Ed felt rather smug about that, even if his legs did wobble a bit on his way to get a towel. He was especially pleased since it likely meant Roy would be interested in doing this more often, which Ed would very much like. Just the memory of Roy giving himself so freely to Ed’s touch was enough to make him shiver.

When they had curled together under the covers, Ed’s head on Roy’s shoulder, Roy spoke very quietly.

“Thank you, Edward.”


Ed woke up to the rustle of someone getting dressed. Since Roy seemed to be trying to keep quiet, Ed pretended to still be asleep.

At least, until Roy’s fingers brushed lightly over his hair. Then Ed reached up and grabbed a handful of cloth.

“A desk,” he reminded Roy without opening his eyes. “For the rest of eternity.”

“I’ll remember,” Roy assured him, lightly.

“Besides,” now Ed opened his eyes so he could give Roy a meaningful look, “we have to do this again sometime.” He tugged Roy down to a hard kiss.

“I quite agree, my hawk,” Roy laughed against his lips. Ed let him go.

“Gyrfalcon,” he stated. “Don’t let that be anything but the truth.”

Roy straightened, dark eyes searching Ed’s. Ed held that gaze with an effort, knowing he had just told Roy to kill.

“Who flies whom today?” Roy murmured, but Ed saw something relax in him. Roy touched Ed’s lips with his fingertips and nodded.

And left.


Ed slouched in a library chair, staring at an open book. The same book he’d been staring at for the last three days. And, despite his love of and respect for books, he was about ready to hurl this one across the room from sheer nerves.

Where was Roy? He had said three days, it had been three days. If he’d managed to screw up and get himself killed, Ed really would…

“Research going well, Edward-kun?”

The deep, familiar voice struck through Ed like lightning. He closed his eyes, swallowing against the tightness in his throat.

“Everything is fine,” he managed at last, turning to see Roy Mustang, neat and precise as always, lounging against the shelves with a faint smile and pained eyes.

“It’s time to be moving,” Roy told him.

End


Ed: You know, this arc started with humor. How’d we wind up here?

Branch: This arc started with you, how do you think?

Ed: …you have a point.

Last Modified: Apr 25, 12
Posted: Mar 11, 04
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Fiat Roomate

Ed has to deal with a housemate. Drama, I-3.

Ed found out later that it had been his habit of retreating to a library whenever he needed distraction that started the whole thing. After the third time Hughes found him asleep on a pile of books, rather than the bed in his room at headquarters, he mentioned it to Gracia-san, and Gracia-san spoke to Mustang, and Mustang decided to take steps, and Hughes had thought he’d known just the person to help…

The first Ed knew of this, though, was when he returned to his room to find Captain Maria Ross directing a small horde of soldiers in packing up Ed’s belongings.

“Ah, Edward-san, good timing,” Ross smiled. “I can take care of the packing and moving, but I thought you’d like to unpack your things yourself.”

“Moving?” Ed asked, faintly. “What moving?” Ross blinked.

“To the house, Edward-san. Didn’t you know it would be today? My own things are already moved,” she continued with a tolerant look, “but I made sure to leave plenty of room for you.”

Ed turned this incomprehensible scene over in his mind a few times. It appeared he was in the process of being moved out of headquarters and into a house somewhere. With Maria Ross. If it weren’t Ross standing here, he might think it was a practical joke and go pin Havoc to the wall until he admitted it had been Hughes’ idea. But Ross was even more straightlaced than Hawkeye, and he didn’t believe she would be party to anything improper. Or anything she thought might harm him. And Ross could be as insanely protective as Hawkeye got over…

Oh, he wouldn’t have.

Yes, he would, Ed reminded himself, that man would damn well do anything he thought was necessary. The real question was why he might have thought this necessary.

A practical joke was suddenly not entirely ruled out.

“Excuse me, Ross-taii,” Ed said brightly, “I need to go check on something. I’ll catch right up with you.”

Two buildings later Ed kicked open the door of the Fuehrer’s office, not particularly caring if it started out locked. He did note in passing that it hadn’t been, which probably meant he was expected. Indeed, Mustang didn’t even twitch at the bang as the door opened.

“Good afternoon, Elric-kun,” he said dryly.

“What the hell is this all about?” Ed asked without preamble.

Mustang raised a brow. He was wearing that infuriating little half-smile that said he had put one over somewhere, and no one would know where until far too late. Ed ground his teeth and dug mental fingernails into his composure. Fortunately, Mustang didn’t pretend ignorance of what Ed was talking about.

“Why, Elric-kun, I would have thought more living space would appeal to you. You’ve been keeping up with your field, after all. Won’t it be useful to have room for your books and notes when you’re in the city?”

This beguiling thought distracted Ed for several seconds, before he recalled himself to the matter at hand. “The house part isn’t the problem. The babysitter is the problem,” he said, flatly.

“More than one observer has noted that you don’t take sufficient care of yourself when you live alone,” Mustang returned. There was even less give in his tone than in Ed’s, and it rocked Ed back a bit. This wasn’t a joke, then, his commander was serious. Ed paused a moment, weighing whether it would be worth the effort to fight on this one. Mustang’s eyes narrowed lazily, and his smile widened a notch. Familiar with the danger signs, Ed braced himself.

“So, you can either share a house with Ross-taii, you can stay with Hughes and Gracia, in which case you will undoubtedly be the babysitter, or you can use the guest room in my house. Your choice, Elric-kun.”

It took Ed several tries to re-hinge his jaw. He barely managed to bite back the words You’re joking, because that would not be a wise thing to say right now. Mustang seemed to hear it anyway.

“You think I’m bluffing?” he asked, lightly.

“No,” Ed gritted out, spun on his heel and stalked out. He had known right from the start, he reminded himself strenuously, that Roy Mustang fought dirty. Strangling the man for it now would be pointless. Besides, he’d be damned if he’d give Mustang the satisfaction.

It could be a lot worse, he tried to convince himself. Ross shouldn’t be that difficult to live with.


A week later he was back in the Fuehrer’s’ office.

“Are you sure there’s nowhere you need to send me?” Ed refused to actually beg for an assignment, but he was getting close.

“Nowhere urgent enough to call you away from settling into your new house,” Mustang told him, watching Ed over folded hands. Ed bared his teeth. Time to get down to cases, then.

“If you don’t get me out of this city,” he growled, “I swear I’m going to kill that woman before the weekend gets here.”

Mustang looked politely inquiring. Ed couldn’t contain himself any longer, and started pacing.

“All right. I can deal with her fixation on healthy food, Sensei was the same way. It’s probably a female thing.” Ed paused to glance suspiciously at Mustang. He could have sworn the man who terrorized hard-bitten generals every day and twice on Sundays had just squeaked.

“Do continue,” Mustang invited, blandly.

“I can deal with the food thing, and it’s only reasonable that we divide the housework, and I can live with the color-coded chart on the wall. Even if the colors are completely unintuitive. Ross-taii has obviously been in the military too long, and the military has a thing for cross-wired symbolism.”

“Does it?” Mustang murmured. Ed rounded on him.

“But when she starts in on my clothing, that’s where I draw the line! It’s none of her interfering business how long it’s been since I last went shopping! What gives her the right…” Ed cut himself off before he said more than he should, and stood, breathing a bit hard. Mustang regarded him calmly. Possibly a little too calmly.

“If you’ve drawn the line, then where’s the problem?”

Horribly torn between the urge to ask whether he could still choose to take Mustang’s guest room, and the urge to transmute the man’s desk into a manure pile (he’d have enough nitrates if he used Mustang, himself, too), Ed stomped out. It was the only thing he could do, and keep his dignity.


Detente was reached almost by default. When Ed was agitated he resorted to his books, and that was the one place Ross never disturbed him. Left his meals inside the door, complete with small notes reminding him when it was his turn to do the dishes, yes, but she did so quietly.

Two weeks of lying low appeared to convince his sadistic commander that Ed was resigned to his housemate, and Mustang finally asked Ed to to go see why the mayor’s office in Allege seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. Ed refrained from bouncing or whistling until he was out the front doors, just in case he jinxed his freedom.

He was, however, humming when Ross found him folding clothes into his suitcase.

“It sounds like you’re looking forward to your work, Edward-san.” Ed looked over his shoulder to see her leaning in the door of his room.

“I am,” he replied, and bit his tongue on the extra reasons he had to be pleased with his job this trip. She sighed.

“I had hoped you and your brother would be able to have quieter lives, after everything was over,” she said softly.

“Al does,” Ed pointed out. Ross hesitated before she spoke again.

“Were you really not happy with that life?”

Ed was silent for a long moment, gazing into his half full suitcase. On the one hand, it was none of Ross’ business and he rather wanted to tell her so. On the other, maybe if she understood she would stop hovering quite so much. Expedience won over privacy, in the end.

“I love my brother,” he told her evenly, “and being with him without having to worry about… everything was wonderful. But I need something to do with my life.” He turned to look at Ross seriously. “I missed a lot of being a kid because we had things to do. It would have been nice to let someone else worry about how to make life work out, but it’s too late to go back and live like that now.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to take on more than your share of life’s trouble just because it’s what you’re used to,” Ross maintained stoutly.

“It isn’t like that,” Ed insisted. And then looked aside. “It isn’t just that I’m used to it.” He mulled over how to put it so that this practical, steady woman would understand.

“It’s like alchemy itself,” he said at last. “Knowing that something changed because of your action, that you have the skill and ability to alter the world… it’s… it’s not something I can just leave.”

“And alchemy itself wasn’t enough?” Ross asked. Ed thought about that. What if he had just returned as a State Alchemist, and never volunteered for Mustang’s political crusade? The thought rang hollow.

“They aren’t separate, for me,” he finally answered. For one thing, he reflected, he would never use half as much of his alchemical knowledge tucked away in a study somewhere. Ross’ laughter startled him a bit.

“No wonder you came back to Dai-Soutou Mustang,” she shook her head. “You think alike.” And then she laughed some more, probably at Ed’s expression. “Well, what I came for was to ask whether this would be helpful while you’re traveling.” She held out a small, fat, green notebook.

Taking it, the sleek feel of the leather told Ed it was waterproofed. When he opened it, only about half the volume turned out to be taken up by loose-leaf paper. The rest was pockets. Pockets that unfolded, pockets that snapped, pockets inside of pockets; he spent several minutes just hunting them all out, and wasn’t entirely sure he had found every one. He blinked at Ross, who blushed faintly.

“You seem to make notes on any paper at hand, including matchbooks. I saw this while I was getting my bootheel repaired earlier this week, and thought it might be useful for you.”

Ed turned the notebook over in his hands. She had noticed that about him, and considered what it meant when he didn’t have two or three rooms worth of books and desks to tuck his notes into. And she had come up with a solution for him.

“Ross… taii… You didn’t… I…” Ed took a deep breath. “Thank you. Maria-san. This will help.”

“Good,” she smiled at him. “Don’t forget to eat well while you’re busy.” Ed gave her a long-suffering look. She sounded just like Winry used to, lecturing him about taking care of the automail.

“I won’t, Maria-san. You don’t have to worry so much.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response, just patted his shoulder and left him to his packing.

He would not, Ed promised himself as he stowed away another shirt, ever admit to Mustang that this had been a decent idea after all.

End

Last Modified: Feb 07, 12
Posted: Mar 21, 04
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In Silence

Hughes is called on to intervene in a fight between Roy and Ed. Drama, I-4.

Maas Hughes paced down the corridors of Central City headquarters grumbling to himself.

Maria Ross had come to him with a message from Hawkeye that Edward-kun and His Excellency were arguing, and could General Hughes please come calm them down before the idiots destroyed anything? Ross clearly wasn’t comfortable calling her supreme commander an idiot, but her verbatim delivery made it equally clear that she agreed with the assessment.

Maas had always known she was an intelligent woman.

He had sent her back with assurances that he was on his way, and taken the time to arm himself appropriately before heading upstairs. He seemed to be in time; there were raised voices, but no crashes or explosions. Judging by the attitudes of Roy’s staff, though, he probably shouldn’t dawdle. Havoc was as far from the door as he could get, chewing on the end of his cigarette rather than smoking it. Hawkeye was giving the door a tight-lipped look and drumming her fingers on her desk.

“So, what got them going like this?” Maas asked. Hawkeye didn’t take her eyes off the door, but Havoc cast him a look of relief that brightened further when he noted Maas’ armament.

“Oh, good thinking, sir! Er, it isn’t yours is it?”

“Of course not. This,” Maas wiggled the carafe in his left hand, “is Gracia’s special blend, which she presciently gave me a stash of in case I ever really needed to get Roy’s attention at work. My wife is brilliant. Now,” he repeated, “what got them going?”

“I think it was Edward-kun’s report on the organization of the State Alchemists,” Hawkeye supplied.

“Wonderful,” Maas sighed. Something they both had a stake in and knowledge about. No wonder.

“Are you ready, sir?” Hawkeye asked, laying a hand on the doorknob.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Maas shrugged. Roy was going to owe him vacation time for this. He breezed through the door into Roy’s office, as insouciantly as though he wasn’t stepping into the next best thing to a free-fire zone.

Neither Roy nor Ed noticed. They were too busy leaning over their respective sides of Roy’s desk until they were nose to nose, arguing at the top of their lungs.

“Millay has the morals of a thief, and you want to give him the keys to the damn bank!” Ed yelled. “I can’t believe you’re thinking of putting him in charge!”

“You said yourself they won’t accept anyone who isn’t an alchemist!” Roy shouted back. “Who the hell else is there?”

Maas’ brows lifted. Ed was more coherent and Roy more vehement than either usually got, even in a fight. This really was serious. Time to get their attention, before things ran any further downhill.

“Coffee break, gentlemen?” he suggested, setting down his carafe and three mugs on the desk with a thunk.

They both started.

“Any particular reason the two of you decided to alarm all the staff officers in the building today?” Maas continued, pouring. Ed blinked. Roy inhaled and set his jaw.

“We are having,” he said through his teeth, “a difference of opinion on who should oversee the State Alchemists.”

“I’d never have guessed if you hadn’t told me,” Maas murmured. Both combatants glanced at the clearly-too-thin door and refrained from saying anything. It was a start. Ed flung himself away from the desk and stalked a few paces off. Even better.

“What did you send me for if you never planned to listen to me?” he snarled. Roy’s eyes glinted, and Maas stifled a wince. Then again, not so good.

“If you find it so distasteful to work for me, Elric-kun, the door is right behind you,” Roy purred.

Ed’s chin came up, mouth and shoulders both tightening. A spark lit his eye, in turn.

“You two bring out the worst in each other,” Maas groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Can you possibly keep from kicking each other in the insecurities for five minutes at a time? I already have a small child, you know, I don’t really need two more.” He took his mug and slumped onto the couch.

“What?” Roy snapped at him. Maas glared right back. Vacation time and a raise, he vowed to himself.

“You,” he pointed a finger at Roy, “stop trying to test Ed’s loyalty to destruction. A self-fulfilling prophecy won’t help anyone. And you,” the finger swung around to spear Ed, “quit trying to get a rise out of Roy just to prove you can. It’s counterproductive.”

Roy and Ed glanced at each other, and then away at opposite corners of the room. Maas cast his eyes up. God save him from stubborn idiots; and he’d thought just one was bad. Further distraction was clearly in order.

“Save the revenge for after work, Ed,” Maas advised. “It’s much more fun when he’s a bit tipsy, anyway.” A faint choke emerged from Ed, though he didn’t look back around. Roy, on the other hand, bared his teeth at Maas in something that was decidedly not a smile. Well, at least they weren’t at each other’s throats any more. And Roy had never toasted him yet, Maas reflected philosophically. He met his friend’s eyes seriously, and tilted his head in Ed’s direction, raising a brow. Roy’s gaze flickered. Maas gave him a narrow look. Yes, in fact, Roy should be able to keep his temper better than Ed, after fourteen more years practice even if his fuse wasn’t actually any longer than Ed’s by nature, he thought at Roy as loudly as possible, exasperated. Judging by the slightly shamefaced look that flitted over Roy’s face, Maas’ expression must have conveyed the thought pretty well.

Roy heaved a silent sigh, picked up both remaining mugs, walked over to Ed and offered him one.

Maas saw Ed freeze as he registered whose hand was holding out the mug, and when he looked up, for one second, those sharp, gold eyes were wide and unguarded. Faint contrition softened Roy’s face in answer to that flash of uncertainty. After a moment Ed took the mug, and bowed his head over it. They stood for another moment, while Roy regarded the bent head, before he touched Ed’s shoulder, lightly. Maas wasn’t sure Roy had seen Ed biting his lip, but he was sure that his friend noticed Ed let his breath out at that touch.

Maas shook his head. When these two wanted to insult each other you could hear them in the next city, but apology and reconciliation? Those were silent.

They came back to the desk in still-unspoken accord, and took chairs this time. Maas let out a relieved breath of his own. Destruction and mayhem appeared to have been averted.

“Is there anyone else who could do this job?” Roy asked Ed, evenly. Ed consulted the depths of his coffee, which seemed perfectly reasonable to Maas. He had no doubt Gracia’s coffee could aid memory and tell the future; it was Gracia’s, after all.

“There’s no one else with his breadth of knowledge,” Ed answered, slowly, “but I think Sitten would be less likely to deliberately overlook dangerous paths of research.”

“Leaving only the question of whether he has the acumen to recognize them.” Roy sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Maas noted that Ed was chewing on his lip again, as if he very much wanted to say something more but was wary of starting another argument. Maas, for one, wasn’t surprised by that restraint in the least, though he was getting the impression that Roy might be.

“All right,” Roy said at last, “ask Hawkeye-shousa to get Sitten’s file for me, if you please.”

When the door closed behind Ed, Roy took a long drink of coffee and slanted a look at Maas. “Thank Gracia for me,” he said. Maas chuckled.

“You know, Ed has always snapped at you,” he prodded after a few seconds. “And winding him up has always been a hobby of yours. But you used to grin about it. What’s different now?” He waited while Roy examined the grain of his desk. Maas was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wasn’t the one who needed to know it.

“It used to be a way to distract him, make him think about something besides his obsession,” Roy answered at last. “Now…” Roy leaned back with a sigh. “Why is he here, Maas? Why does he stay, when his family, the family he did everything for, is so far away?”

“Why does Hawkeye stay, despite the fact she doesn’t like fighting and killing?” Maas asked back. “Why does Havoc stay, when following you drags him into all kinds of insane danger?”

“That’s different.” Roy waved a dismissive hand. “They chose to follow me for personal loyalty.”

Maas let his head thump back against the couch. “Roy, for such a superb manipulator, you have the strangest blind spots,” he declared, wearily. After an extended silence he turned his head to see Roy staring open-mouthed.

“Are you trying to tell me,” his friend managed at last, “that Edward Elric is… is…”

“Loyal to you, personally?” Maas filled in. “Yes, you idiot, that’s exactly what I’m saying! You spent four years being the closest thing he had to family, besides the Rockbells, who he rarely saw, and Al, who he always felt guilty over. You took an orphan into your care, and offered him a future, and threw him in the way of anything that might make him strong enough to achieve it, and sheltered him when you could. What did you expect?”

Roy looked absolutely stunned.

“The only thing more irritating than watching you wind someone around your finger on purpose,” Maas concluded, in disgust, “is watching you do it on accident.”

Hawkeye tapped on the door. “The file you wanted, sir.”

Faced with paperwork, Roy managed to pull himself together.

Maas collected mugs and carafe, and prepared to withdraw before Roy decided to put more work on his plate while Maas was handy.

“Hughes,” Roy’s voice caught him at the door.

“Yes?”

“Why do you stay?” Maas looked over his shoulder to see a touch of wistfulness in Roy’s face.

“What, you think I would leave you to make a hash of everything on your own?” What kind of family would I be if I did? he added, silently.

To judge by the way Roy’s smile warmed before he turned back to his latest problem, he’d caught that one, too.

End

Last Modified: Sep 03, 07
Posted: Mar 21, 04
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The Road

Ed thinks over what he knows about Roy. Drama, I-3.

“…so, unrest, yeah, and plenty of it, but I don’t think Sur will be a real problem. Everyone was just nervous.” Ed shrugged and slouched down a bit further in his chair. “That’s all a lot of the problems are, even the riots.”

“Only to be expected,” Mustang noted, “though I wish I could convince more of my officers of that truth.” He shrugged against his glass backrest.

“Hawkeye-shousa would have fits if she saw you standing with your back to the window like that,” Ed observed. A corner of Mustang’s mouth curled up.

“Hawkeye-shousa knows the value of a gesture. She would only glare.” Ed raised his brows.

“A gesture?” Not that Mustang wasn’t past master of a certain flamboyant showmanship, but Ed wondered how something the Major would likely term reckless self-endangerment could be a gesture.

“Bradley’s office was buried in the middle of this building,” Mustang pointed out. “Mine faces out over the city. And by standing at these windows, and being seen here, I say that I trust the loyalty of the people around me. Soldiers and civilians both.”

“So that they’ll trust you back?” Ed hazarded, after a moment’s thought.

“I can hope. And for those who aren’t in line of sight, there’s you.”

Ed raised his brows. Mustang shrugged and turned to face the windows.

“The outlying areas have nothing but rumor and reputation to judge by. And your reputation is far… cleaner than mine. Your presence, in my name, is a pledge of good faith. Without that I would expect a good deal more panic.”

Every now and then Mustang told him, not only how he was using Ed now, but how he had used him before. Ed thought this might be one of those times; his commander had been doing it more often lately. So he thought about what he had done as the military’s rather rogue dog, and the reputation it had made for him. Thought about the things he had been able to do, and the things he had never had to deal with. He’d known for years about the latter. Maybe it was time to say so.

“My reputation is cleaner because I was protected,” he said, slowly. “You… didn’t have anyone to deal with the politics for you. Did you?”

He took Mustang’s silence for agreement. And then he tilted his head, curious.

“How did you keep them off me, anyway?” Mustang had never really told him. Of course, Ed had never asked; until a year or so ago it wouldn’t have occurred to him to ask. Mustang snorted.

“I told them the truth. You were young. It was only to be expected that you would act impulsively, without considering the long term consequences.”

Ed narrowed his eyes at Mustang’s back. “That doesn’t explain why they left me loose,” he pointed out.

“I told them I could control you,” Mustang said, flatly. “They were stupid enough to believe me.”

“Didn’t you?” Ed asked. Mustang laughed.

“You reminded me a good deal of those unstable Stones. They thought those could be controlled, too. But you don’t control something that intense. The best you can do is place it where you want something changed, and hope it does more damage to your opponent than it does to you.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I, for one, am very pleased you’re no longer so driven, Elric-kun. Placing you properly was very wearing.”

Ed had enough to think about for now, so instead of rising to the bait he simply bowed and took his leave. As he strolled down the halls toward the front doors he thought.

Mustang might be surprised that anyone had believed he could control Ed. Ed wasn’t. The man practically radiated control. Of course, the flip side of that, and the most likely reason Mustang hadn’t believed he could, was Mustang’s own intensity. Mustang obviously, at least to Ed, knew first hand how… intractable it made a person. And, Ed had to admit, Mustang’s control was considerably less than perfect if you knew what to look for: the times when he baited dangerous people, the moments when he walked head-on into death and never seemed to notice. It was enough to convince anyone that man was an adrenaline addict, if they didn’t know that it was just his drive breaking loose for a moment.

As if he had any room to talk about addiction to thrill, Ed reflected wryly. He tried to stay honest with himself, and so he admitted that was one of the major reasons he had returned here. For all the times he had thought his and Al’s search might eat his soul, there were things he missed now that the search was over. He could do without the desperation, but there was a vital edge that it had called out. Uncontrollable, frequently, yes, but Ed had liked it. He rather suspected Mustang knew it. Surely he recognized it as the same thing behind his own little outbreaks of behavior that gave his staff heart attacks.

Those outbreaks were a lot less frequent, now that Mustang had, like Ed, achieved his goal.

Ed paused in the middle of the hall.

Or was that it?

Maybe, he thought, walking on, he was wrong. It was obvious to anyone that Mustang’s new job was, to make a colossal understatement, time consuming. And energy consuming. Had Mustang come to the end of his road, reached some kind of satisfaction, or was it just that his road was taking everything he had, now?

Everything Roy Mustang had was a very great deal.

Was that what Hughes kept hinting at, when he said how glad he was that Ed was back?

Ed was still mulling over that thought when he emerged into the falling evening to see his housemate waiting for him with a car.

“Maria-san,” Ed sighed, “I was coming straight to the house from here. You didn’t need to wait.”

“No trouble at all, Edward-san,” she told him blandly, getting in and patting the seat beside her. Since arguing with Maria’s protective instincts was an exercise in futility, right up there with trying to keep Hughes from gushing over his family, Ed climbed in.

He didn’t realize he was frowning at empty air until Maria touched his hand to get his attention.

“Hm? Sorry?”

“Was this a difficult assignment?” she asked, frowning a bit herself. Ed shook his head.

“No, actually it all went pretty easily.”

“Did Dai-Soutou Mustang say something, then?” she suggested shrewdly.

“He always has something to say,” Ed snorted. Maria eyed him for a moment.

“I see,” she said, and let him be for the rest of the ride.

Ed thought about the help he’d had on his own road. Much of which he had received whether he liked it or not. When the car stopped and they got out, he stood for a moment, looking up at the house he and Maria shared.

He was still getting a good deal of help, whether he liked it or not.

“Edward-san?”

“Maria-san,” he said quietly, looking down at his right hand, “what if we hadn’t succeeded? What if… things… hadn’t come out right?” He looked up when she took his shoulders.

“Then we would have helped you keep looking until it did,” she said, firmly.

Perhaps, Ed thought, turnabout was fair play. He straightened and nodded, and followed Maria up the stairs.

It was time to start keeping a closer eye on his commander.

End

Last Modified: Sep 03, 07
Posted: Mar 21, 04
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Chiaroscuro

Ed reflects on the similarities between Izumi and Roy. Drama, I-2, spoilers ep 27.

Character(s): Edward Elric, Izumi Curtis

It had been a bit of a shock the first time he had actually seen Roy Mustang, Ed remembered. The first time Mustang had seen him didn’t count. Ed had been playing possum, despite a feeling that the owner of that deep, smooth voice he listened to wasn’t taken in. But a year later, in Central Station, it hadn’t been the casual display of Mustang’s power that had frozen Ed in place until the man was on his way out.

His feet had stuck for want of directions from his brain, which was busy tallying Mustang’s features. Black hair; dark eyes narrowed consideringly at the world; pale skin; long, thin lips; long, winged brows; round face and pointed chin and high cheekbones. And the name echoing through his mind hadn’t been Roy Mustang, but Sensei. The timbre of their voices was even similar. Only months of familiarity had blunted the shock of how much Mustang resembled Ed’s teacher.

Ed was deeply thankful that they didn’t speak in the same manner at all.

Well… not unless the Colonel was really angry. Then they spoke in very much the same manner—all bark and however much bite they thought he deserved.

And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn. It was faintly weary, and slightly annoyed, and something else that Ed categorically refused to name. If he named it, then the knowledge that he had betrayed his teacher’s trust would crush him, and the the idea that his commander gave a damn what happened to him would betray him.

All told, Ed found the Colonel easier to deal with than Sensei. Mustang demanded less of him. Admittedly, Sensei was straightforward, while no one in their right mind would call Mustang any such thing. But what the Colonel wanted from Ed was far simpler. Go here, meddle there, whack this person over the head with a heavy hammer. Whether the hammer was metaphorical or real was generally left to Ed’s discretion.

Whereas, with Sensei, the hammer was always real. It was the action that became a metaphor, a meditation, always leading Ed’s thoughts up an inward spiral until he was dizzy with the spinning is and might be and can and should.

The really, truly unfair part was that his twisty Colonel had that quirk of eyebrows that made him look, for just a moment, like Ed’s agonizingly straightforward Sensei. And when that happened it made Ed think about what metaphor, what meaning, what pattern the actions he took under Mustang’s command made. And that gave him a headache.

“Ed.”

Ed opened his eyes and looked up out of the grass into the dark eyes above him.

“It’s dinner time. Come in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ed murmured, looking aside as he rose.

He’d never thought he’d want to have that headache, but it would have been much better than the brutal twisting in his chest and throat every time he met his teacher’s eyes.

Really, he should have stayed in Central.

End

Last Modified: Jun 17, 12
Posted: Apr 13, 04
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Excuse

This was a gift-fic for moumusu, and a bribe to get her to draw a large, clean… er, uncluttered version of this picture. Note that the picture is decidedly NC-17 (Ed/Roy, light bondage). All those “mustang” and “ride ’em cowboy” jokes finally came to this: Ed ties Roy up to have sex in Roy’s office. Porn, porn, nothing but porn. Porn with Insights, Bondage, I-4

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Ed/Roy

Roy didn’t tense until he felt Edward fingering the cuff of his glove.

Well, all right, perhaps he had started when the first loop of rope dropped around him and tightened. Edward really was getting very good at moving quietly, and he’d managed to genuinely surprise Roy this time. Enough that he’d caught Roy’s wrists behind his back as well as his arms against his sides. But none of that actually made Roy nervous.

When Ed stroked a finger down the inside of Roy’s wrist, catching the edge of his glove, that was when a twist of anxiety coiled through him.

Behind him, Edward laughed.

“Relax,” he said against Roy’s neck, “I know better than that.”

Reassured that Edward was not going to test the limits today, Roy did relax, only balking when Edward nudged him toward the couch.

“I just had the couch cleaned,” he protested.

“When it was the floor you complained about rug burned knees,” Ed pointed out. “Deal with it.”

Roy heaved a slightly dramatic sigh, but didn’t object when Ed overbalanced him onto the couch. In fact, he managed to roll with the fall and make a fairly graceful landing, considering. Mild attempts at discomfiting each other were all part of the dance between he and Edward on these occasions. It amused Roy to no end that they both worked so hard to maintain dignity as long as possible when going about something as basically undignified as Ed tying him up so they could have wild sex in his office.

In keeping with that part of the agenda, Ed assumed a judicious expression as he arranged Roy on his knees on the couch. Not that he wasn’t actually quite considerate, supplying Roy’s lost balance as he pressed Roy’s shoulders down, and tucking a pillow under Roy’s cheek. Edward’s hands were light and careful as they unfastened Roy’s pants and slid them down.

Ed’s hand slipped up the inside of Roy’s thigh, and now Roy felt the loosening inside him, the deep shudder of relaxation that was the reason he did this. The reason he didn’t snap his fingers and burn through the rope.

And then Edward got off the couch.

Roy’s eyes snapped open to see Edward grinning down at him. Roy growled, and shifted, seeking some not totally undignified way to get off the couch again and pounce on his smirking lover. There really didn’t seem to be any.

“No, no, don’t bother yourself,” Ed told him, lightly, “I’ll be back before you know it.” Roy growled again, and then gasped as Ed ran his cool metal fingers over Roy’s bared skin, circling, pressing in hard, once, before retreating.

“Tease,” Roy accused, breathless, as Ed stepped back.

“I learned from the best,” Edward noted. As if to emphasize that fact he proceeded to strip off every last bit of his own clothing. Slowly. On another day Roy would have taken an act like this as an invitation, and it would have most likely ended rather abruptly, with Edward bent over the desk. Today it was Roy bent over, wanting to feel Ed inside him, but a coherent corner of Roy’s mind appreciated the irony that their relative states of undress were unchanged.

Now completely naked, Edward sauntered around Roy’s desk to fetch the oil Roy kept there before he finally came back to the couch. Anticipation heightened Roy’s senses, now that he couldn’t see Ed, the constriction of his thoroughly bound arms sending a tingling drench of adrenaline down his nerves. The heat of Ed’s body against the backs of his thighs made Roy shiver, and he spread his knees a little further, coaxing Ed with his openness. He muffled a groan in the pillow when Ed rubbed a slick thumb, teasingly, against his entrance.

“Ed,” he whispered, body melting under the touch he was unable to rock back against.

Roy wasn’t sure Edward knew it, but he enjoyed it a great deal when Ed set the pace. Edward had a fine sense of how long to tease, how to touch and sooth, to get Roy to willingly abandon his reserve. Ed enjoyed it too, of course, and hence the whole song and dance with the rope, which Edward said kept Roy from distracting him.

Even without it Roy wasn’t sure he’d be able to distract Ed now, not with Ed’s hand between his legs and Ed’s tongue drawing designs over the base of his spine. But, since it was there, Roy let himself twist against it, let his wrists tug against it, and added that touch to Edward’s. As Ed’s teeth nipped gently, Roy moaned.

“Ed…”

“Hmm?” Ed murmured against his skin.

“…ride me,” Roy breathed. He heard the intake of Ed’s breath, and felt Ed shift behind him, leaning over him, and then, finally, Ed was pressing into him.

Roy panted against the pillow, not bothering with either dignity or quiet any longer as Ed fucked him. This was what he had wanted from the moment he identified that first loop of rope and declined to burn it, preferring the heat of Ed’s fast thrusts into his raised ass. Roy treasured Ed’s rhythm, his enthusiasm, his willingness to ignore Roy’s rank and reputation, to bend him over on his own couch and ride him hard.

Roy moaned as Ed’s hand closed around his length, fingers sliding down him, demanding, and Roy couldn’t have kept from answering that demand if he’d wanted to. Fire raced through his veins and wrung a rough sound out of him, flung him outward and left him floating as Ed’s movement inside him peaked and slowed. Ed’s weight rested over his back for a minute before Ed sighed and tugged the rope loose.

Roy slid into a boneless sprawl, content enough to only make a small face at the wet spot.

“I should take the upholstery cleaners’ fee out of your stipend,” he told the young man now stretched out on top of him. Ed snorted. “And I’ve been meaning to ask, who taught you to make knots like that?” Roy added after a moment, observing that the rope had fallen away from him completely with that one tug.

Ed snickered.

“I’ll never tell. It couldn’t help but affect one of your valuable working relationships.”

Roy considered how Edward had phrased himself, and looked at him sternly. Well, as sternly as it was possible to look at his lover who had just finished fucking him senseless. Which, to judge by Edward’s smirk, wasn’t very. Edward really was picking up some very bad habits.

“And just what bribe do you want,” he asked dryly, “to spare me having to guess about everyone I work with?”

“Let me think about that for a while,” Ed replied, with a downright feline smile.

Some very bad habits, Roy reflected. If only he could blame this on Hughes. Unfortunately, he’d seen that smile in the mirror before. Ah, well. There were certainly compensations.

He leaned up to steal a kiss.

Last Modified: Jun 17, 12
Posted: May 25, 04
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Detour

Roy and Gracia discuss some difficult plans. Angst with Drama, I-4, spoilers ep 25.

Character(s): Gracia Hughes, Roy Mustang

Gracia Hughes had been blessed with an innocent face. It had served her well, as the wife of an investigator. She had also been blessed with a sharp mind, which had served her even better as the wife of Maas Hughes, in particular. She knew why Mustang was making the suggestion he was, and she knew she would be able to do it.

She just didn’t like it.

“I want to go with him,” she insisted. “Surely it will be safer for all of us, especially since I doubt Alicia can remember to talk about her father as if he were dead. Some of that can be passed off as a child not understanding, but still.”

Mustang didn’t turn away from the window. “It would be better if you told her he is dead. It could become the truth at any time.” His tone was cool and factual.

Gracia finally lost her hard-held composure at this suggestion, and snarled. She stalked closer to him and wrenched him around by the shoulder to face her. The names she wanted to call him stopped on her tongue, though, when she saw the harsh lines frozen around his mouth. They reminded her that Mustang had known her husband even longer than she had. Her lips tightened.

“That doesn’t answer me.”

“If you disappear with no explanation, questions will be asked. It will put Hughes back in danger if whoever tried to kill him suspects he’s still alive.” Mustang measured out his words as if they were some precious resource, flat eyes looking through her.

“All right,” she conceded after a moment. That did make sense, in the unbending operational logic she was used to from listening to Maas talk about his work. “But I’m not telling Alicia he’s dead. If I tell her that her father’s gone away for a while, that will be close enough to the lies people tell children.” She watched Mustang’s face for any hint of give, prepared to fight for this one, even if she had to fight dirty and start making less veiled references to the Elric boys.

The bitter straightness of his mouth didn’t flinch, but his eyes were helpless and lost for one instant before he turned away from her again. “Do as you like.”

His brusque tone made her want to give him a solid kick in the shins. Or perhaps higher. But the memory of something Maas had once said held her back. When Mustang actually sounds angry, he’d noted with a wry smile, that’s when you know you’ve got hold of the real him. And the real Mustang was her husband’s dearest friend; Maas trusted him. In the end, so did Gracia. So, instead of smacking him, she did something that was probably crueler. She closed her hands over those squared shoulders and leaned her forehead, wearily, against his back.

“Don’t, Roy,” she said, very quietly.

A shudder ran through him, and the shoulders under her hands jerked with a harsh breath, and she felt tears prickle in her own eyes. Again. She swallowed them back.

“I’m going to say goodbye to him. And then I’ll see you at the funeral.” It wasn’t real, she reminded herself as her throat closed. It wasn’t real. Not yet. She straightened and stepped toward the doors to the next room where her husband lay, unconscious.

“Gracia.”

She stopped.

“I’m sorry.” Mustang’s voice was low and hoarse, and as ragged as her heart had felt when she first saw Maas lying so very still.

Gracia sighed, scrubbing both hands over her face. Yes, she remembered, it was just like Roy Mustang to think he was responsible for everything and everyone. She came back to him and stretched on her toes to plant a light kiss on his cheek. She tasted salt on her lips.

“You’re an idiot,” she corrected, gently. “He’ll live. He will.” The repetition was fierce, and he finally looked down at her again. “What you have to do now is succeed. You hear me?”

The shadow of a smile eased his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gracia nodded briskly, the way she did when she’d finally managed to get Alicia’s boots, gloves and hood on in the winter, and crossed into the other room with her head high.

Once there, she sagged down into the chair beside Maas’ bed with an unvoiced sigh. She brushed her fingers through his carefully washed and combed hair, and settled her hand on his chest so she could feel him breathing.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” she whispered. “I don’t even know exactly where you’re going to be. Or how our clever Mustang-taisa intends to spirit you out of here. Oh, I know why,” she added, waving her free hand. “It’s just going to be hard. A hard time.” She swallowed thickly, looking down at the unresponsive face. “But no one can possibly say you haven’t done your part. So sleep well, love. I’ll be home, waiting, when you wake up.”

She pressed a kiss to Maas’ warm, still lips, brushed away the tears that fell on his face, and stood. She didn’t bother to dry the tears from her own face, as she walked out. They were only appropriate to a woman whose husband was dead.

End

Last Modified: Sep 24, 08
Posted: Dec 11, 04
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Hageshii

Lust comes looking for Greed before things heat up. They get to know each other a little. Porn With Characterization, I-4, spoilers ep 30 on.

Character(s): Greed, Lust
Pairing(s): Lust/Greed

She found him on a rooftop at sunset, looking down at the streets as the nighttime life of the small city began to swirl into the open, more fluid and frenetic than daytime life. She had a few moments to examine him before he turned to face her, and took advantage of them with some curiosity. He was tall and built more powerfully than most of them. And he held himself differently. He draped himself against the air, with none of the tension she was used to seeing in her own kind. Insouciance wrapped around him, from the pointed toes of his boots to the furred collar of his vest. He could really have been human.

The thought lasted until he turned, and she caught his eyes.

His eyes blazed with the insane desire they all shared, one way or another. They matched his smile perfectly.

“Well, hello there,” he drawled. Her mouth crooked at the light in his eyes as they stroked down her body. She could tell the moment he focused on her orouborous; his glance sharpened and flicked back up to her face. “Who are you?” he asked, a good deal more coolly.

“I am called Lust.”

“Suits you,” he observed, eyes wandering again, though his bared teeth were not precisely inviting. “Do I need to ask why you’re here?”

Lust shrugged. “Tonight I’m merely here to see you. I haven’t received specific instructions yet.”

His brows flicked up. “Just sightseeing?”

“I suppose.”

He looked at her narrowly for a long moment, and then chuckled. “Old bat’s messed up again, I see. That’s nice to know. Well, I’m Greed, so pleased to meet you.” He ambled across the roof to her, grinning lazily. “How old are you?”

Lust glanced up at him from under her lashes. He couldn’t possibly be as careless as he looked. “I’m told that’s not the sort of thing you should ask a woman.”

He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “You don’t have to worry about wrinkles, though, so what’s to worry you about it?”

He did have a point. “About ten years, I think.” Lust shrugged, laying a hand casually on his chest, fingertips tapping against him.

Greed’s grin turned fierce. “She really is losing it, if one as young as that’s already curious instead of just obsessed.”

She studied him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You will,” he predicted, low voiced, hand slipping under her hair and down her back. It was warm.

“What are you doing?” Lust asked, still unsure whether to be cautious or amused at his maneuvering.

The grin tipped sideways into an unabashed leer. “Taking advantage of the opportunity, what else?”

Lust was startled to a laugh. Was he really that simple, this one she had heard stories about? Of course, the sketchiness of those stories was what had drawn her here tonight. Gluttony wasn’t good at noticing details, and Envy’s comments about Greed tended to be brief. “Idiot,” “Impractical,” and “More balls than a herd of bulls” came to mind.

Previous to this evening, she had thought Envy meant that last metaphorically.

Well, and he probably had, she decided as Greed pulled her a little closer against him. But perhaps not just metaphorically.

“So? Are you going to try to carve my heart out or not?” Greed asked.

A good question. She was a little inclined to, just to avoid entanglements. On the other hand, she rather liked the urgency of his body against hers. And it had been a very long time since she did something just because it felt good. She was getting the impression that Greed lived for things that just felt good. There was something to be said for that, provided it didn’t leave you sealed for a century and a half.

The gleam in Greed’s eyes said that he might not care, even if it did. And that piqued her interest.

“Not tonight,” she answered.

“Good enough.”

Greed’s mouth moved on hers with no hesitation or uncertainty. There was none in his hands, either, sliding over the lines of her back, her hips. One warm palm moved up her ribs to cup her breast and his thumb stroked the bare skin just above the line of her dress, drawing a shiver over her flesh. Lust sighed. There was a roughness in the confidence of his hands on her that she found herself enjoying. It heated something inside her. She slid a leg along the side of his and buried both hands in the spikes of his hair, laughing at the low growl in his throat. He had good legs, under that leather, she could feel.

A brief thought flickered through her mind, wondering where her standards of good legs had come from, but she brushed it away. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the leather was in the way.

“It wouldn’t be a good idea for your humans to see me here,” she said, elliptically.

“Really?” Greed murmured against her neck, and shrugged. “All right.” He lifted her up, easily, into his arms.

Lust raised her brows, slightly nonplused, and then had to stifle an actual grin as Greed sprang down off the side of the building to land on a ledge below and swing both of them through the open window. He did like to show off, this one.

“Very nice,” she told him, quellingly, and twisted out of his arms. She lifted her own to run her hands back through her hair and inhaled deeply. While his attention was riveted she let her clothing absorb back into her body and stood in the dim room naked, smiling, challenging.

“Very nice,” Greed purred back to her. He shrugged off his vest and skimmed the pants off his hips, and black retreated to show pale skin. It was warm against hers when he wound his arms back around her, walking them both back towards the bed.

She let him lower her to the cool, smooth sheets and stretched against them, reaching up to pull him down as well. His solid weight on her was almost soothing, anchoring her to the moment. She drew him tighter against her, pressing her mouth to his shoulder, breathing in the rich, flat-sharp scent of him. It was the scent of immediacy. And after years of chill manipulation the weight, the scent, the strength of him covering her leached the tension from her shoulders, made her breath come a little deeper.

Greed’s hands gentled, stroking her side, her leg, petting back her hair until she let him kiss her. “You’re fragile,” he said softly, in her ear. “You should be careful.”

She pulled back far enough to look down her nose at him. “Excuse me?”

Greed gave her a long look before shaking his head a little, mouth wry. “Not what you think. Never mind.”

He lowered his head and she felt his mouth, serious and hot and wet, on her breast. His teeth scraped faintly against her skin, and she arched her back, sighing. Her breath caught in a light gasp as Greed slid a hand under her, caressing the skin over her spine, and licked further down her stomach. She flexed her hands on his upper arms, liking the density of his muscles. He worked a hand down the inside of her thigh and glanced back up the line of her body, the wicked glint in his eye wanting to know what she would do. Lust felt her lips curling up in answer. As if she would be here if there were any doubt; besides, his hand kneading her thigh was turning her own muscles lax and liquid. She parted her legs so he could settle between them. He arched a bit, himself, when she trailed her foot up the back of his leg, and laughed.

And then he bent his head again, and his tongue moved against her, velvety and rough, hot and insistent. His fingers stroked against her, gliding across her wetness, coaxing her to spread her legs further open. Lust tossed her head back and moaned low in her throat.

“Ah, so you are enjoying yourself,” Greed murmured, lips brushing against her. “Good to know.”

“Mmmm,” Lust agreed, eyes dropping shut with the bright heavy heat swelling through her. She was impatient, though. Normally she would savor the pleasure—and she did. But the wildness in Greed teased her, and she shifted, holding out her arms when he looked up. “More.”

“A woman after my own heart,” he remarked, baring his teeth as he moved up to lean over her.

Lust traced her nails over his chest, pleased at the shiver that ran through him. “Not at the moment. Not precisely,” she whispered, and wrapped a leg around his hips and pulled.

A low sound, half a groan and half a growl, wrung out of Greed as he slid into her. Lust laughed again, breathless. He felt so good, smooth and hard inside her, just like the tension of his arms and back under her hands. His eyes were heavier on her, now, intense, and she gave him an encouraging smile from under her lashes as he drew back and drove in again. She pressed up to meet him, and it was almost enough. Almost as wanton and powerful and wild as she wanted. She leaned up and nipped at his ear. “Harder.”

The sound he made was harsh and pleased and understanding. Strong arms wrapped around her and Greed rolled over, pulling her on top of him. This time, Lust’s smile showed her teeth. She planted her hands on his chest and arched up, pushing herself back onto him, feeling him sink deeper inside her. Greed’s large hands moved, sure and easy, over her shoulders and breasts, down her ribs to settle on her hips, and lifted her a little higher.

When he thrust into her it stole Lust’s breath. “Yes,” she gasped. “Greed…” The long lines of his face were intent now, mouth open on quick breaths. Lust realized that she was panting, too. The thick slide of him inside her, hard and fast, drove silky pleasure over and through her. She flexed against his grip, pushing down to meet his thrusts, and surprise flickered over his face for a second. As if he had forgotten she wasn’t a human woman, forgotten that the same power ran through her body as through his.

His grin flashed again, and Greed trailed a thumb down her stomach. Lower. Until Lust cried out, losing her rhythm for a moment, and he stopped there, thumb circling, rubbing sparks to dance down her nerves. She drove down against him, demanding, and Greed met her with a gasp.

“Lust… oh, yes…” His voice was hoarse, breaking over the want and pleasure that blazed in his eyes. He thrust into her just that tiny bit harder that Lust needed, and fire surged through her, tightened down, surged out again. Over and over, spreading wider each time, and Lust moved with it, reveling in the heat and tingle of power and slow, sharp thrill and… oh, yes. A choked off cry from Greed answered her, and she savored the hardness of him inside her, still moving against the clench of her body. She sagged into his hands’ grip as the tide of pleasure retreated again, fingers stroking his chest, coaxing him to follow her.

He wasn’t long behind.

When his hold eased, Lust slumped down onto him, bonelessly, resting her head on his shoulder. His hands still stroked over her, soothing, encouraging her to stay there.

“Delightful,” he sighed.

Lust made an amused sound. “And you,” she murmured, sliding a hand down his arm to feel the texture of him, “are… satisfying. I don’t say that often.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “I can imagine.”

“You realize,” she added, conversationally, “that the next time we meet I’ll be pretending it’s for the first time? Just to be on the safe side.”

The hands moving over her never flinched. “Doesn’t surprise me. The old bat’s a real bitch if you cross her. And you haven’t even figured out what you want, yet.”

Lust sniffed. “I want to be human,” she informed him.

Greed snorted with what sounded like exasperation. “Naïve.”

Lust stilled. “Are you saying it isn’t possible?” she asked without lifting her head. He was the second oldest of them; he might know.

“I’m saying you’re shopping in the wrong store.” Greed turned them over, settling his weight on her again, and Lust made a small, agreeable sound even as she eyed him, narrowly. Was he trying to turn her away from that person and toward himself?

A second later she almost rolled her eyes at herself. Of course he was; he was Greed. The question was whether he was telling the truth in the process.

Greed wove his fingers through her hair, gently, his expression weary. “You’re more human now than the old bitch has been for centuries, Lust.”

Her mouth twisted. A lot of good that did her.

Greed chuckled, and buried his face against her neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell like the sun at noon, you know.” Lust made an annoyed noise. “All right. I don’t think you’ll understand yet, but listen up.” He raised his head and looked down at her, sharp, wild light back in his eyes and smile. “A long time ago, I talked to an alchemist who worked with plants. She said that sometimes you don’t need a seed or even a root; sometimes just a piece of plant will start to grow into a new one, especially if you feed it with power. Sometimes just a scrap.” Greed’s fingers closed on her chin. “Just a scrap, Lust. Remember that.” He kissed her, slow and wet and tempting.

Once they untangled their tongues again, Lust gave him a cool look. “You’re satisfying and entertaining, both, Greed, but I think Envy might be right; a hundred and forty years in that array did something to your mind.”

Greed threw back his head and laughed. “Probably. Not that Envy’s got room to talk, the little psychotic. Just remember, all right?”

“All right,” Lust agreed. “And I’ll be waiting for you the next time you break out of your seal; perhaps we can do this again.”

“Gee, thanks,” Greed muttered. Then he lifted her fingers to his lips, shooting her a look from under heavy lids. “Be nice if I could get a little help with that project, of course.”

“I have no intention of ending up inside one of those myself,” Lust said, firmly, sliding out from under him with a bit of regret. But it was getting late.

“That would be a waste,” Greed allowed, gaze passing over her body like another hand. “In that case, do you have to leave so soon?”

Lust shook back her hair and reformed her clothing. “Gluttony will be wondering where I am.”

Greed blinked, lounging on the tangled sheets. “Not like he’ll say anything to her.”

“Of course not,” Lust waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll just worry. And then he’ll start eating the furnishings.”

Greed, for the first time all night, looked startled. And then his smile returned, too wide and bright and saw-edged to be human. “I’ll be damned. I was more right about you than I thought.” He came up off the bed in a loose-jointed surge, as cocky and casual as he’d been when she first spotted him, and swept her up against his body, laughing. Lust sighed, and speared a fingertip out to skree off the sudden shield across his throat. Greed barely seemed to notice. “You do whatever you need to,” he told her, “and I will, too. And we’ll see, hm? Now,” he let go and his own clothes raced over his skin, “get on back to your friend.”

Lust shook her head, giving up on trying to figure out what he was on about. She did hope he would return to be sealed instead of resisting enough that they had to kill him, though.

Greed flung himself back across the bed, propped up on his elbows, and grinned at her. “And if we both make it, maybe I can keep you next time.”

Lust raised a skeptical brow over her shoulder as she left, but she was smiling when she reached the street.

Maybe.

End

A/N: “Hageshii” is the word Lust uses when she’s describing Greed after his death. It has connotations of both violence and intensity. The best parallels in English might be “furious” or “tempestuous”—violent because it is the nature of the thing to be extreme and intense.

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Dec 13, 04
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Long Enough – One

Scar’s experience at Lior, and after. Drama, I-3, spoilers ep 42.

Character(s): Lust, Scar

One

The world was red. Red with blood. Red with pain clawing through his body. Red with the light rising around him. He watched it brighten, growing as each breath slowed, until one last breath felt like it wasn’t air any more. The world was red, and he was red, light and hollow and and rising like the glow.

The light flickered. Faltered. He blinked and didn’t feel his eyes. Was it finished already? Shouldn’t it be longer, for all the soldiers to die, like he was dying? Like he was…

An image hit him like a hammer, of the circle over the city, completed by his body.

His body.

The last length of the array wasn’t inscribed. It was only… filled. And now it was being emptied as the array consumed him along with everything else.

Now he struggled. Now he grasped after that last length of the pattern with hands that only existed any more in his mind. His will. He had to hang on. He had to stay, or the circle would fail. He had to stay just a little longer.

Revenge. Lives. Solid life, condensed into Stone. Into flesh. Into metal. His remaining flesh had to stay or it would all be for nothing. The lives that the army had eaten. The life that his brother had given him. The life and chance and curse he had passed on to Alphonse Elric.

He clutched at solidity, at presence, fighting against the rising current of red. He had to stay just a little longer. Just long enough. He had to hold on.

Hold on.

He felt his fingers digging into the dirt and the light surged up. Red speared the sky. The world was red.

Black followed after it.

Last Modified: Sep 28, 08
Posted: Dec 01, 05
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Long Enough – Two

Scar’s experience at Lior, and after. Drama, I-3, spoilers ep 42.

Character(s): Lust, Scar

Two

The cool hardness of shaded sand was under his head. Under his back. Under his hands. There was a reason this shouldn’t be so. His eyes drifted open as he tried to remember what it was. The black-haired woman who was not her sat near with her back to a rock and her knees drawn up, watching him. She stirred as his eyes found her.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by now,” she said, clinically. “You’re the most willful human I’ve ever met. Though the Fullmetal boy could give you competition.” Her mouth twisted. “Perhaps we’ve been selecting the wrong workers all along.”

Fullmetal… Elric. The little brother. The city. He sat up abruptly, clutching at the sand under him as his head swam and the world swayed in a dizzy circle. Circle.

“Why am I still alive?” He frowned at her. “Did you…?”

She leaned her head back against the broken stone and laughed, sweet and cold. “We can’t do alchemy; only humans can. I couldn’t have interfered in a transmutation if I’d tried.” She left her head tilted back, staring up at the sky. “I just found you afterwards.”

He levered himself up to his knees to look around and stopped as he felt his hands, his arms under him. Shock froze his lungs. He lifted two hands up and watched them shake. “What?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

She glanced back at him and her bare shoulders shifted with a short breath of amusement. “You were in the middle of the transmutation of the Philosopher’s Stone. What surprises you?” She stood and looked down at him. “Now it’s really goodbye.”

Later he would remember her fingers brushing through his hair as she walked out onto empty sand and away.

End

Last Modified: Sep 28, 08
Posted: Dec 01, 05
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2 readers sent Plaudits.

Once More…Dear Friends – Prologue

Roy wakes up in the hospital. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Roy woke far more slowly than usual, which would have been his first clue that something was wrong, had he needed a clue. The distant ache that dragged him to consciousness had already sent him a full report on wrongness, however, and clues were superfluous.

By the time he pried an eye open he was also fairly sure he was drugged.

Once he blinked the glare away he was presented with a ceiling. It could be a hospital ceiling; it seemed likely. The first question was traditional, though, so he asked. “Where am I?”

Or, at least, he tried to ask. He was surprised to hear it come out as a mumble. The dry mouth might have something to do with that, and he would have preferred not to have noticed because now he really, really wanted a drink.

“Roy?”

The whisper came from his left side, and his left eye seemed to be covered for some reason. He turned his head and winced as the ache in his forehead became much less distant. Now he could see who had said his name, though, and that distracted him. Hawkeye was sitting forward in a chair beside the bed, eyes wide. She looked… different.

Well, she was out of uniform, but he’d seen her out of uniform before. There was something else.

“Taisa?” she asked, voice more urgent this time and less fragile.

That was it! She had sounded… breakable. Something he had never heard her sound before. And she looked the same way. Pale. Taut lines pulled her mouth thin. He’d seen her frown before, seen her worried. But he’d never seen fear in her eyes.

Roy frowned, and then winced again and unfrowned hastily. That really hurt. “Chuui?”

“Yes. Don’t move too much, you were shot,” she added, quickly, pressing a light hand to his right shoulder.

Shot? Bradley had used his sword, though. “Came out of the cellar,” Roy retraced his path out loud. “Had the boy. Made it out the door…” This time the frown was barely a twitch before he caught it and stopped. There had been someone outside the door, yes. “Who?”

“Archer,” Hawkeye supplied, voice flat.

Roy groped, in his mind, after what must have happened. But nothing came. “I don’t remember.”

“I’m amazed you remember the cellar,” Hawkeye snapped. “He shot you in the head! The bullet clipped you, probably while you were turning, and shattered the orbit of you left eye; if you’d been any slower, if you’d turned the other way to dodge, you wouldn’t be alive and the doctors have been saying you might not ever wake up anyway!”

That did explain why it hurt so much whenever he tried to frown. And also why his left eye was covered, now he thought about it. This would probably alarm him when his thoughts were running more straightly. “I suppose the paperwork will accumulate a great deal before I get back to it, then,” he murmured with reflexive sardonicism.

She sagged back in the chair. “You’re all right.” She pressed a hand tight over her mouth and closed her eyes for a long moment, and Roy blinked.

For the space of two long breaths she was not his professional aide. She was a woman, years younger than he was, her normal steel stripped down to iron by exhaustion.

She was beautiful.

On the third breath she straightened again, First Lieutenant Hawkeye again, and reached for the call button. “You still have a lot of morphine in your system, so pay attention and remember not to say what you were really doing that night, while the doctors are checking you over,” she told him briskly.

“Of course,” Roy agreed, and lay back, bemused, as medical personnel flooded the room and Hawkeye stood back against the wall.

He’d accomplished his goal, which was good. Now, what was he going to do about this?

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 06, 05
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Once More…Dear Friends – One

Roy recovers and Lisa keeps watch. Drama, I-4

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

It was the smell again.

It was different this time, though, not just the smell of cooked meat, but something else, too. Something that caught in the back of his throat like burning oil.

Blood slid under his fingertip, always thinner and more watery than he thought it should be.

And he choked and reached again for the pattern in his mind. And again. And again.

But it wasn’t a skull in his hand, it was a gun; and there were two bodies on the floor in front of him.

Roy started awake with a jerk that set his head throbbing. Someone was cursing vigorously, and he heard the slithery thump of books being kicked aside. Hawkeye trod carefully into the faint lamplight glowing through the window, and looked down at him. “Bad one?” she asked quietly.

Roy shrugged, trying to find some spot on the pillow that would hold his head still enough for the left side to stop throbbing. The doctors swore the bones had reknitted, but Roy had his doubts when he woke up like this.

Hawkeye looked him over, gaze measuring in the half-dark. She plucked a sprig of hyacinth from the vase on one of the shelves and set it casually by his head as she sat down in the chair beside his bed.

Her chair, these days.

The scent of the flowers was sweet and strong and clean, and Roy closed his eye and inhaled deeper.

Hawkeye crossed one slippered foot over her knee and rubbed her toes. “I should have kept you at my apartment longer,” she said with some asperity. “At least I could walk across my guest room without tripping over anything.”

“I imposed on you for long enough,” Roy murmured. He was glad it was spring. The hyacinth had a gentler scent than the potted rose she’d silently deposited next to the guest bed early on during his stay with her.

A soft snort answered him. “There’s barely room in this flat for all of your things plus you,” she pointed out. “There’s a bookshelf in your kitchen, and the only real open space is the floor of your workroom. You should get a house. It isn’t as though you’ve used much of your salary for anything over the years; you can afford it.”

The commonplace discussion calmed the tension through Roy’s chest and stomach, and his next breath was freer. “I have no idea how to go about finding a house,” he observed, just to keep the conversation moving. “I gather one needs to be a bit careful, not to get stuck with anything unsound.”

“So take Hughes with you. I’m sure he’s had plenty of experience, by now, in what to look for.”

Roy imagined asking his best friend to go house-hunting with him. Then he imagined Hughes’ glee at the supposed breakdown of Roy’s bachelor ways, and the gleam in Hughes’ eye as he got out the pictures again to illustrate the joys of married life. And then he shuddered. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in coming along instead?” he asked, trying to stifle the undertone of dread.

Hawkeye became so still he looked over at her. She was staring out the window. “I suppose so. If you like.”

The night shifted like a ball rolling a quarter turn; the new resting point was becoming familiar to him. “I would like it. Yes.” He wanted to reach over and touch her hand. He wanted to say something leading about how she would be spending so much time there she should have a say in the house. He wanted to address the woman sitting beside him with her light hair hanging loose over the shoulders of her fuzzy cinnamon colored robe, a little tangled from sleeping on his couch as she had been for most of this month.

Every time he did that, though, she got that distant, tolerant, Hawkeye-chuui, look in her eyes and stood up. Or asked him what book he was reading. Or stuffed a chunk of apple in his mouth. So this time, in this quiet dim time, he made himself stop and wait for her.

After a long moment she looked back down at him. “Then I’ll come.” This time, her smile wasn’t distant. Now he let himself smile back.

“Thank you.”


It was, Roy felt, completely in keeping with his life that the letter arrived the next day.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 07, 05
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Counterpoint – Unresigned

Lisa gives her old job the boot, much to the puzzlement of those around her. Drama, I-3

When General Hakuro popped out of an office right in their path Lisa knew he’d been waiting for them, and tensed. There were a lot of unpleasant ways this meeting could go, and she could tell by the number of teeth in Hakuro’s smile that he had at least one of them in mind.

“Ah, Chuui. I was hoping you would come along today; do you have a moment?”

Now she could feel Roy tensing and took a smart step forward to stand in front of him. He no longer had the rank to shield his subordinates and his too-straight shoulders showed he was still off balance about that. She wasn’t sure if he was off balance enough to resort to more direct means, but better safe than scorched.

“Of course, Sir,” she said, in her best calm-and-capable, superior-soothing tone.

“Well, just in here for a moment, then.” Hakuro held open the office door, and directed his teeth at Roy. “We won’t be long, Mustang.”

He might as well have just added you civilian outsider out loud, Lisa reflected. Hakuro did not, however, say a word of protest when Roy caught the closing door with his foot and leaned against the doorframe. In fact he seemed to ignore Roy’s presence completely, and Lisa’s jaw tightened.

“I just wanted to ask whether you intend to resign your commission,” Hakuro told her, seating himself behind the desk.

If he meant it as a threat it misfired, and Lisa almost smiled at the wall over his head. “I do, yes Sir.”

“Ah.” Hakuro paused for a moment before the smile broke out again, twice as gleaming. “Of course, it’s only to be expected. Everyone knows of your devotion to Mustang; you couldn’t be expected to continue as an officer now that he’s gone.” His voice oozed condescension, and Lisa had to swallow a snort. She wasn’t home free yet, no sense in antagonizing him by laughing at his attempted insults.

“Yes, Sir.”

Hakuro whipped a slim sheaf of papers out of his jacket and slid them across the desk. “No sense in delaying, then!” he said, brightly. “Just sign here and we’ll have you processed out by the time you finish packing up.”

One did not contradict senior officers, Lisa reminded herself as she signed, no matter how absurd their statements. One left that to the officer’s senior sergeant. Perhaps someday, some benevolent NCO would tell Hakuro that Personnel never processed anything in less than forty-eight hours, and he would stop making a fool of himself by saying such things in public.

The prospect of not having to deal with all that idiocy anymore put a faint smile on her face as she exchanged, theoretically, final salutes with Hakuro. When she turned, though, it slipped a bit.

Roy’s eyes were black with rage and his fingers were curled in a way that made her glad his gloves were in his pocket not on his hands.

Of course. He had chosen a career as a soldier because most of a soldier’s life appealed to him. Why should it occur to him that Hakuro had taken nothing from her that she valued? She had never told him.

And she wasn’t going to tell him now. Which left her with a bit of a problem.

She stepped toward him quickly, cutting across whatever Hakuro was drawing breath to say. “Shall we be going then? I’ll find us two boxes.”

Roy’s mouth tightened, but he let her herd him out of the office and stalked down the hall, cane stabbing the tiles as though he had a grudge against the floor. Lisa paced beside him, turning over methods for damage control in her head.

“It could have been worse,” she said, quietly, once she was sure they were out of Hakuro’s earshot.

“Could it?” Roy’s voice was sharp.

“He could have refused to let me go,” Lisa pointed out.

Roy’s stride hitched for a moment and his eyes widened from their fixed glare as they darted toward her. Lisa stifled a sigh of relief that the momentum of his anger was broken, and proceeded to deliberately misinterpret his surprise.

“It would have been stupid. Only an idiot keeps unwilling officers around. But it’s wartime and he could legally have refused to allow me to resign my commission.” She watched out of the corner of her eye as her matter-of-fact tone refocused his thoughts away from his outrage and onto his puzzlement.

“You… don’t mind?” he asked at last, slowly.

Lisa hesitated. She’d put a certain amount of work into making sure he never asked her anything like this, so she’d never had to consider just how frankly to answer. His choice of career and her choice to support him and his plans were no longer at stake, of course, but still…

“I didn’t enter the army because I like the way it does things, Sir,” she said, at last. The truth. Just not the bluntest one.

“I see.”

A corner of Lisa’s mouth twitched. He didn’t sound like he saw. But he did sound thoughtful; it was a start.

TBC

Last Modified: Sep 26, 08
Posted: Dec 07, 05
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Once More…Dear Friends – Two

What does a career soldier do when he loses his career? And what do his friends do about him? Drama, I-3

Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Roy’s past slid through his fingers into a box: a folded “portrait” of him, product of Elysia’s first finger paints; a box with his captain’s insignia—so that’s where it had gone; two letter openers, one of them an old knife of Hughes’.

“I can’t believe they actually cashiered you,” Havoc muttered, leaning against Hawkeye’s desk. She shoved him out of the way to get at the last of her drawers, tucking a handful of letters into her own box.

“Oh, I’m not cashiered,” Roy said, lightly, feeling around the back of his flat drawer. Something had been rattling back there, he was sure of it. “I’m honorably discharged to enjoy a well-deserved retirement in light of both my service and my injuries. The letter said so in black and white.” Havoc’s long mouth twisted around his cigarette, and none of the rest of Roy’s officers looked any happier.

Roy’s erstwhile officers, that was.

His fingers hit something hard and square and Roy fished out a rectangular box. It was a folded chess board. Roy brushed the dust off it gently, and for the first time that day his smile softened. “Stop worrying so much,” he told them without looking up as he stowed the chess set carefully where it wouldn’t get scratched. “It’s the price I expected to pay.”

“So… what will you do, now, Sir?” Fury asked, wavering between looking hangdog and a rather unsuccessful attempt at optimism.

Roy wasn’t about to admit that he didn’t know; that kind of thing was bad for his image. Not to mention their morale. “Back to my alchemical studies, perhaps. There’s plenty of reading in the field that I haven’t been able to keep up with, all these years,” he murmured. He folded his box shut and caught the roll of tape Hawkeye tossed him. The noise of shearing off a long strip made a good excuse not to expand on his alleged plans.

“Hmph.” Havoc folded his arms. “Maybe I should go track down Hakuro myself, while he’s still in the mood, and see if he’ll let me resign my commission, like he did Hawkeye. I could use a less dangerous job.”

Roy looked up at that. It would take a finely tuned ear to hear the genuine offer and question buried in Havoc’s careless tone, but he’d listened to Jean Havoc for years. “No. Shoui.” He straightened. “You’re due for promotion, and the army needs good officers.”

Havoc blinked, probably at being called a good officer, and looked aside, resettling his shoulders. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Roy agreed easily. “So there you are.”

Besides, letting Hawkeye go had been an insult to her from Hakuro, and if Roy had to think about that vindictive gleam behind the bluff smile being directed at any more of his subordinates he was going to forget all the fancy daydreams about setting Hakuro’s ribbons on fire and just punch the bastard. He raised an eyebrow at Hawkeye and she nodded, hefting her box. Roy gathered up his own and stepped toward the door.

“Taisa!”

Roy looked back, with a wry smile for how quickly he responded to a rank that was no longer his, even on his retirement papers.

His staff drew themselves up and gave him salutes so sharp he could have shaved with them. After a long moment Roy set down his burden and returned them, just as sharp and clipped. “Carry on, gentlemen,” he said, quietly.

They remained at attention as he left.


“Stop staring at that box.”

Roy raised his head and managed to smile at Hawkeye with an edge of teasing. “Is there something more interesting I should be staring at?”

“Yes,” she told him briskly, and tossed a newspaper sheet over the offending item. “Look at this.”

Roy looked. And then he chuckled as he read down the list of properties for sale. Ever organized, Hawkeye had underlined a handful of them in red. And then numbered them. “Shall we go shopping, then?” he suggested, still slightly bemused by the whole idea of shopping for a house the way he usually went shopping for a good cut of beef.

He should have known it wouldn’t be quite that simple, of course.


“… and we just replaced the plumbing last year, it won’t give you any trouble.”

Hawkeye applied a firm toe to one of the shiny steel pipes. Rust sifted out of the socket where it curved, followed by a trickle of water. She gave the owner a cold look, and he smiled weakly.

“Eheh.”


“…hasn’t been a flood for years, and we cleaned out all the rotted plaster, you can hardly smell it any more except in the summer…”


“The neighbor’s dog is a bit loud,” the owner admitted, as they walked through the yard and a burly, black and tan dog in the next yard flung itself against its leash barking with rage that it couldn’t reach to take off anyone’s leg. “But she always keeps him tied up.”

Hawkeye turned a stern eye on the dog and walked toward the fence.

“Miss, you might not…!”

“Sit!” she ordered.

The dog paused, one paw in the air, considering. Then it sat down and regarded Hawkeye with ears forward.

“Good dog.”

The owner’s mouth opened and closed silently, and Roy smirked.


Roy stared. “Chuu… Hawkeye,” he murmured. “Is this room, in fact, lime green?”

“I’m afraid so,” she returned just as softly.

“Ah. Good. At least it isn’t some fresh complication with my vision.”

“I don’t think even trauma could produce purple carpet to go with it.”

“Thank God,” he whispered fervently, as the owner shepherded them, cheerily, into the next room.


Roy was both thoroughly distracted, and also starting to have second thoughts about whether more space was worth this kind of trouble, when they found it.

He stood in the middle of the living room and turned in a circle, laughing under his breath. The white plaster walls were half covered with bookshelves running from the wood floor to the high ceiling. Another room on the ground floor and two upstairs had still more shelves. And there was an apple tree in the back yard that had made Hawkeye smile and reach up a hand to touch the first pale blossoms.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

“There’s certainly room enough,” she observed in an approving tone. “And everything on the list Gracia gave me checks out. The windows are tight and everything stands square.”

“Well, yes, but do you like it?”

Uncertainty flickered over her face, an uneasy fit on her clear eyes and firm mouth. “I think it’s a very nice house,” she said slowly.

Roy found himself momentarily at a loss for how to go on. He’d figured out that Hawkeye didn’t like it when he flirted with her, or even complimented her in passing, so teasing wasn’t going to work. But if he just came out and asked…

No. Not until he found out why she kept brushing him away.

“I just wondered if you might like to choose a room for yourself, instead of resorting to the couch.” He looked out the large front window, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “It only seems fair, since you helped me find this place.” His mouth curled up suddenly. “An even trade.”

Hawkeye seemed to relax, when he put it in those terms, and Roy dared a little further.

“Actually, a really fair trade would be to offer you a half share of the house.” As her eyes widened he added, “Since you shared your house with me all winter.”

“I suppose… the room at the back of the second floor is shaded nicely.” Her smile was a bit crooked. “If you really want to give up the space right after finding it.”

“Company is more interesting than space.”

There was something unusual behind the long look she gave him. Something he would have called wariness, if that weren’t ridiculous. But her chin lifted again and she nodded.

“All right.”


Roy’s attempt to pack up his own library was instantly vetoed by Hawkeye on the grounds that that was heavy lifting and he wasn’t medically cleared for that, yet. After a few overhead reaches started his shoulder twinging again, he gave in and agreed, but that left him without anything to do while movers boxed up his life around him.

Nothing but try to figure out what he was going to do with his life, now. Watching all the layers be stripped away didn’t help. He kept finding things that reminded him of why he had chosen a military career.

Of why he had stayed.

A copy of his letter of application to officer’s training, pressed in the first pages of Ruland, earnestly explaining that he wanted to put his alchemical abilities at the army’s disposal in the field. His commission, carefully framed, now dusty from having been stuffed into the bottom of a bookshelf for years. A squared off chunk of pale eastern sandstone with glassy streaks through it where his own fire had melted the silicon. A folded, fading piece of notepaper, tucked loosely into his sole cookbook, listing all the living generals from eight years ago and marking how much time it had taken each to reach his rank. A yellow newspaper clipping, slipped between two of his old coded notebooks, attributing the stability of the annexed Northern territory to the State Alchemist who served under the military governor.

Some things were older. His copy of Hollandus, and Vaughn’s works, both of which he had inherited from his first teacher in alchemy. His aunt’s round, black teapot that she had given him when he moved to Central City, the one whose reflections had fascinated him as a child. Even among those, though, he kept finding echoes of his choice.

When Hawkeye walked in to find him turning his father’s Iron Cross over and over in his fingers she called up Hughes. Roy made a personal note that Hawkeye had no reservations about fighting dirty.


“Funny how it all takes up more room in boxes, isn’t it?” Hughes commented as he picked his way through the piles of cardboard. He eyed the dust smears all over the couch and took a seat on one of the boxes instead. “Here.” He plunked a bag down beside him and pulled out two bottles of beer, tossing one over.

Roy smiled to see that it was their compromise brand, the one that was light enough to make him happy and full enough to satisfy Hughes.

Hughes held up his bottle. “Here’s to you, ex-Junsho.”

Roy clinked his bottle against it. “And to you, ex-Junsho.”

They drank and Hughes sighed. “I really thought he wasn’t going to be able to get you, too.” Then he snorted and his voice trailed off into a now-familiar mutter. “… dereliction of duty. I return from the dead, and all he can say is ‘dereliction of duty’!”

Roy shrugged. “As far as he knows I murdered our commander for personal ambition. Even if he can’t quite prove it.”

Hughes gave him a sharp look. “He wouldn’t have pushed it the way he did unless it was personal.”

“Of course not.” Roy examined his bottle thoughtfully. “But it’s why he actually got me discharged. If it was just personal he’d have demoted me and kept me around to gloat at.” If nothing else, the forced introspection of sorting through his things had reminded him that Hakuro actually was a good solider, albeit an idiot in a lot of other ways.

“Mmm.” Hughes took a long swallow. “Think you’d have preferred that?”

“It’s something that happens when you play the promotion game,” Roy said, at length.

“Something that happens to a soldier?” Hughes translated, quietly. He leaned an elbow back on the boxes behind him and stared up at the water stains on the ceiling. “And now we’re not.”

Roy’s mouth tightened and he made himself nod. Now he wasn’t.

So what was he?

Hughes narrowed his eyes. “As an alchemist you still have influence,” he pointed out. “You can still protect this country.” Then he frowned. “Are you still a State Alchemist?”

Roy blinked. “Technically, I suppose I am,” he said, slowly. “At least… Hakuro never asked for the watch back, and I didn’t think of it.” He frowned in turn. “That won’t do. There’s no real leverage without a commission, too.”

Hughes threw his head back and laughed. “Drink up, Roy, you’ll be fine.” A gleam lit his eye. “Though, if you’re giving it back… “

Roy recognized that look, and couldn’t help the smirk that spread over his face. “Slingshot?” he suggested.

“Not nearly fancy enough,” Hughes protested. “We have reputations to uphold, here, Mustang.” He pulled out more bottles. “Now, let’s think about this.”


“You melted the watch.” It was a statement, not a question. “On Hakuro’s desk.”

“Er. We were drunk?” Hughes offered, with a winning smile.

Hawkeye gave them a cool, unimpressed look. “And you got in without an appointment how?”

“We told them the truth.” Roy settled back on his box-chair smugly and crossed his legs. “That I was going to return the watch. They let us right through.”

“And now Hakuro has a silver paperweight shaped like a hand? Your hand? Snapping?”

“A very fine piece of work, if I say so myself.” Roy and Hughes grinned at each other.

Hawkeye was silent for a long moment before she nodded sharply. “Excuse me. I have to go pack the rest of my things.”

Roy blinked after her as she strode out and then frowned at Hughes. “She won’t move in because I ask her to, but she will because she’s annoyed at me?”

“Women,” Hughes said wisely. “Have another beer.”

TBC

The Iron Cross is a German military medal.

Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Dec 08, 05
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Counterpoint – Breaking Eggs

Lisa gets some good advice from Gracia. Drama, I-3

Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

It wasn’t until she tried to separate out some things specifically to keep at Roy’s that Lisa realized just how many of her things had already found their way over. About a third of her dresser seemed to be gone. So were her spare cleaning kit, her favorite boots, the extra bag of dog food, her small frying pan and her cheese grater, of all things.

Actually, she remembered taking over the cheese grater, after one attempt to make a decent omelette with cheese chopped into bits. How she had wound up with her spare toothbrush at home, she was less sure of.

She sat down on the floor of her bedroom, tossing her more ragged slippers into the corner in exasperation, and laughed helplessly as Black Hayate promptly retrieved them for her. “I bet you’d like to move, wouldn’t you?” she asked him, rubbing his ears. He panted happily at her. “Yeah, you’re just as hopeless as I am.”

A knock at the door pulled her away from her attempts to locate all her belongings, which was probably just as well.

“Gracia!”

The sweet-faced woman at her door smiled and leaned against the frame. “Since you had to call Maas in on Roy I thought perhaps I should stop by and see how you’re doing, yourself.”

Lisa snorted and led the way to the kitchen to light the stove under her teakettle. “It’s not like I’m going to be heartbroken over losing my job,” she pointed out, waving Gracia to the table. At least her kitchen table and chairs had stayed where they were supposed to be.

Gracia leaned her chin in her hands, smile turning just a touch wicked. “It wasn’t you job I expected you to be heartbroken over.”

Lisa set down the teacups with a bit more force than necessary. “I’m not heartbroken over anything.”

“And that would be why your home looks like Black Hayate just finished chasing something through it?” Gracia took the tea set away from Lisa and measured tea into the pot with a gentler touch. Lisa sat down with a small thump and sighed.

“That’s… well, you know about the new house?” Gracia nodded and Lisa folded her hands on the table and looked down at them. “Roy. I think he wants me to move in.”

Gracia tipped her head to the side. “You’re not happy about this?”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “Happy that he looks at me like I’m just another one of those fluff-heads who flutter over him because he smiles at them and then ignores them? Not especially.”

Gracia blinked. “Does he look at you like he does at them?” she asked, slowly.

“He’s been flirting with me! For months!” The kettle began to whistle and Lisa got up to fetch it. “That was one of the reasons I was so ready to let him move back to his place, even though it meant going there to make sure he was doing his exercises and not straining that shoulder or forgetting to eat or anything idiotic like that.”

Gracia’s chin was in her hand again as she watched Lisa. “And when he does flirt, what do you do?”

“Act like a professional.” Lisa brooded over the rising steam. “I’ve always had his respect as a professional, and I’m not giving that respect up.”

“If you keep acting like nothing but his second, he won’t look at you the way you want him to,” Gracia reminded her softly.

Lisa shrugged and poured the tea with a steady hand. “It doesn’t seem that he’s ever going to look at me the way I want him to.”

Gracia sighed. “The two of you.” She blew across her tea and took a sip. “You’re probably confusing the life out of the poor man.” Her lips crimped. “Which is good for him. But I don’t think you should give up, just yet.”

Lisa tried not to feel too much hope, but Gracia had known Roy longer than any of the rest of them. Surely she would know? She nibbled on her lip and looked the question at Gracia.

“He isn’t very likely to figure it out on his own,” Gracia allowed, “but neither of you has really had a chance to give it a decent try. His injury and recovery, and now the discharge… he hasn’t been thinking clearly too often, I expect.” She gave Lisa a stern look. “And I’ll bet you haven’t either, as wound up in him as you are.”

Lisa studied her teacup with great attention.

Gracia sat back and shook her head. “Let him get back to himself. When he is… you’ve already seen what will work, haven’t you?”

Lisa blinked. “I have?”

“You’re missing the obvious. He treats you as whatever you act like.” Gracia gave her a bright, mischievous smile. “So act like what you want him to treat you as.”

Lisa turned that over in her head. So. If she wanted Roy to not treat her as either another light conquest or as only his second… “When he’s back to himself, hm?” Slowly, she smiled back. “Thank you, Gracia.”

Gracia patted her hand. “No problem. Now, why don’t you tell me about the new house.”

Lisa shuddered faintly. “For starters, it is not purple and green…”

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 08, 05
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Riri-tan and 1 other reader sent Plaudits.

The Best

The husband and wife conspiracy team. Drama, I-2

Character(s): Gracia Hughes, Maas Hughes
Pairing(s): Gracia/Hughes

Gracia looked up with bright eyes as her husband strolled into the kitchen humming. “How’s Roy?”

“Very much himself.” Maas dropped a kiss on her cheek, and another on her ear for good measure, making her giggle. “So? Did it work?”

“Of course it did.” Gracia smiled, just a touch complacently.

Maas folded his arms around her, beaming. “I’m so lucky,” he sighed. “Not only is my wife beautiful, smart, sweet and amazing, she’s also the best secret agent I’ve ever seen.”

She leaned against him laughing. “In a good cause. After all, there’s no earthly reason for them not to, anymore. Now,” she gave the potatoes another stir, “you haven’t seen your daughter all day, and she says she wants to play on the swing.”

Maas drew himself up to attention and saluted her smartly. “Yes Ma’am! Right away, Ma’am!”

Gracia shook her head as he about-faced and marched out of the kitchen toward the back yard. She really did hope Lisa would be as lucky in her love as Gracia had been.

And Gracia Hughes didn’t leave her hopes to chance.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 08, 05
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Counterpoint – Deadly Force

Some reflections, while Hawkeye cleans her guns. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye

Lisa was cleaning her guns. Cleaning them thoroughly enough that she could store them when she was done.

Oil streaked her hands, and she knew she had a smudge of it on her cheek, where her wrist hadn’t been quite clean enough to brush aside her hair without smearing. It didn’t bother her. There were things you couldn’t clean without getting dirty. Attics. Guns.

Countries.

She held the mainspring of her second pistol up to the light; no, that was just a bit of uneven oil, not scoring. She wiped it down carefully.

She liked her guns. Killing made her reluctant to eat for a day or two, but the guns themselves were clean and precise and definite at all times. They were solid. And if she was fast and accurate, then so were they. She didn’t have quite the… relationship with them that a lot of the other sharpshooters did. But, then, she hadn’t been there for the same reason most of them had.

Lisa knew she’d been lucky. She could easily have been assigned to some command other than Roy’s. As it was, she had been able to fire most of her bullets in direct defense of the handful of people she knew and valued in that army.

She wiped her hands and started reassembling the parts.

She didn’t understand the other way; didn’t comprehend how anyone could shoot just because they were told to, with no personal reason of their own. It was some strange kind of abstract insanity, as far as she could tell.

She fished out her second screwdriver, the one Winry-chan had re-ground to make the perfect fit more so, and delicately tightened the screw. One last careful pass with the oil cloths and she slid the guns into their holsters. She hesitated when she started to put them in the storage box, though.

Roy understood the other way.

Slowly she put her guns back on the rack in her front closet.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 09, 05
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Housewarming

Havoc watches and worries a bit about his friends, as he moves them in. Drama, I-2

Character(s): Jean Havoc, Lisa Hawkeye
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

“I thought housewarming was supposed to happen after everything is moved and unpacked.”

Jean snorted into his beer at Farman’s rueful observation. “Yeah, well. At least they supplied the drinks. Besides, when was the last time we got any kind of normal assignment from Mustang-taisa?” he added with a wry grin.

“A good point.” Farman stood up as the last load of boxes from Hawkeye’s place pulled up.

Jean followed more slowly, and not just because he wanted to get the last few swallows of his beer. The Colonel and Hawkeye were converging on the car, and the two of them had been worth watching all day.

Of course, they’d always been kind of fun to watch. Anyone with eyes knew Hawkeye’d had a thing for their superior officer since day one. Well, anyone with eyes who wasn’t Roy Mustang, but Jean had never been sure that wasn’t deliberate ignorance. It was actually a pretty impressive show to watch them dancing around it.

The steps seemed to have changed, today, though.

They were acting like two cats who’d just met. One of them was always watching the other, but only when the other wasn’t looking. They didn’t quite go so far as to start washing when the target looked around, but Jean had collected quite a list of other elaborately innocent gestures, over the course of the day.

“These three go up to my room, the rest go to the kitchen.” Hawkeye tapped the first set of boxes with emphasis. “Open these, and die.”

The uniformly male box-carrying contingent voiced vigorous agreement, and Jean snickered. Poor Fury was still traumatized from having opened a box of her underwear and Hughes-san was kindly keeping him occupied unpacking books. He’d never seen Lisa turn quite that shade of red, either.

She gave him a dark look, now. “You can take the plates.”

The heaviest box, of course. He was happy enough, though, since it finally gave him a chance to talk to her alone. “Are you really sure about this?” he asked quietly, as they ripped open boxes on the kitchen floor.

“Sure about what?” Her tone was quellingly brisk, and Jean eyed her with exasperation.

“About moving in with him, Lisa. I mean, you’re not,” he waved a hand, “like that yet, right?”

Her lips thinned and she paused in putting away glasses to direct a paint-stripping glare at him. Jean sighed. “Look, I’m not prying. It’s just… are you sure it’s a good idea?”

Her hands stilled, resting on the counter. “No, I’m not sure,” she said, at last, softly. “But I do know nothing will ever change if I’m not the one to push it. Not the way I want it to.”

Jean looked at her for a long moment, and a corner of his mouth curled up. “About time you went after what you want.” She blinked at him and he chuckled. “Oh, come on. You’re one of us; you know we’re all rooting for you, right?”

Her eyes softened. “Jean…”

“Besides,” he took a reflective drag on his cigarette, “once you put a leash on him, he’ll stop stealing girls from all the rest of us. Win-win situation, I say.”

The rest of the box carriers came back downstairs to find Hawkeye leaning on a chair laughing while Jean innocently put away plates.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 12, 05
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Counterpoint – Pick Up Sticks

Lisa chooses a new direction to move in. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Lisa rolled her favorite pen between her fingers, smoothing her thumb up and down the cool, green enamel. It had been a present, years ago, from her mother, and she had never found another that weighed as well in her hand.

Today it seemed a little heavier than usual.

She rested her chin on her fist and stared down at the blank paper in front of her.

Roy would be in motion again, soon. He probably didn’t know it, yet, but she was sure of it. She had watched him recovering from his physical injuries, and the progress of the wound that his discharge had dealt him wasn’t all that different. He was still drifting; but he was drifting closer and closer back to the current of pure idealism that had carried his cold and ruthless manipulations along at such an incredible speed.

And when that current took him again, it would take her, too.

Lisa tapped a nail against the pen, each click firm and clear. She’d decided, about a year into her tenure as Roy’s second, that her life would be far easier if the reasons she loved him were different from the reasons she followed him. Everything would be simpler if she could separate the two. But the brilliant, wild, arrogant precision that had caught her intellect, and the rage and compassion that had captured her loyalty, were the same things that fascinated her heart. And that was that.

Act like what you want to be to him.

It would be easier to follow Gracia’s very good advice if there were fewer things she wanted to be to him.

Act like what you want to be…

Lisa’s head came up, and she took a grip on her pen and pulled the paper toward her. What she wanted to be was the kind of person Roy Mustang would be proud to stand beside. Whether he ever noticed it or not was beside the point.

She would be that kind of person because it was what she wanted.

And if her own past could serve that goal, then she would use it.

She lifted the pen her mother had given her and wrote down an address she hadn’t visited since she was eighteen.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 13, 05
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Once More…Dear Friends – Three

Roy comes to some realizations and starts to move again. Drama, I-3

Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Roy looked up, as Lisa scuffed through the kitchen door, and backed into the corner by the sink with an amused smile.

He’d been rather startled, at first, to find that Hawkeye was not, of her own accord, a morning person. She had the talent of waking up quickly when she needed to, but left to her own devices she was never up before sunrise and joined the world of the living gradually. Her eyes were open by the time she got downstairs, but both her four-legged housemate and her new two-legged one knew to stay out of her way while she more or less sleepwalked through her morning routine. Roy felt a certain scientific curiosity, watching her, about what would happen if he moved, say, her tea-strainer from its usual home one morning.

Today it looked like he might find out. She stopped in front of the empty fruit basket and stood for several breaths blinking at it sleepily.

“We’re out,” Roy pointed out, helpfully.

“Oh.” It took another moment, but apparently her response to missing items was to skip that step. She collected her tea and toast and settled at the table. Roy gave her a fond look behind her back and slid the second half of the eggs onto one of her plates before he went back to putting away his own dishes.

Segregated dishes weren’t exactly the kind of thing he’d had in mind, when he first mentioned sharing the house with her. Nor had he quite known what to make of the fact the she’d stenciled her name in neat, white paint on the underside of all her furniture—the kitchen table, for example. But he had to admit, it saved argument over whose turn it was to wash up. And, recalling a few of Hughes’ and Gracia’s early spats over the definition of a clean dish, perhaps it was just as well.

Not, he thought, a bit disgruntled, that his relationship with Lisa merited any kind of comparison to Hughes and Gracia.

She stretched and leaned back in her chair. “So, fruit. We also need more eggs and milk. The honey is close to out. We’ll need more rolls by tomorrow. More meat, too; maybe chicken this time. I was going out today, anyway, I’ll pick things up.”

Roy checked the level of her teapot. All that before her second cup and without checking the pantry; he was impressed. She’d make any quartermaster green with envy. The thought still twinged a little, and he turned away from it. “It’s a beautiful day out,” he observed, instead. “We might as well both go; we could take Black Hayate along.”

Black Hayate emerged from under the table to perk his ears at them, hopefully, and Lisa smiled. “All right.”

Ha. Maybe he really was figuring her out. Casual was the ticket. Roy was whistling as he went to fetch his shoes and cane.

Watching her emerge onto the front step and turn her face up to the sun and draw a deep breath, Roy took a moment for purely aesthetic appreciation. The light jacket and skirt suited her well. He grinned, wondering what would happen if he suggested that a shorter skirt would suit her even better, and whether it would involve him having to duck. But as they walked, and he listened to her cheerful greetings to neighbors and shopkeepers, his thoughts turned more serious.

Lisa had been a sweet, cheerful girl, when he’d met her. But she’d been seventeen at the time. He hadn’t been surprised that she’d become more solemn, when she showed up as his new Second Lieutenant two and a half years later. People changed as they grew up. And Hawkeye had still been kind, as well as formidably capable. It was the capability that showed first, by then, and the new seriousness suited it. He’d thought it was natural to her, and thought nothing more of it.

Now…

“Peaches!” She leaned over a bin to inhale lovingly. “They’ll be perfect in a few days. Let’s get some!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder to look back at him with a laughing smile. Roy could feel his expression softening in return, but his chest twisted.

She was beautiful. Bright and beautiful and… free. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t quite evade that word when he saw her like this.

They were on their way back to the house before he made up his mind to speak.

“Hawkeye,” he started, quietly, drawing her attention back from Black Hayate’s frisking around, “why did you enter the military?”

Abruptly all that brightness looked more like sun shining on steel. “Because what you wanted to do was right,” she pronounced, looking straight ahead. “And you needed someone to pay attention and watch your back.”

“You weren’t happy there at all, though, were you?” he asked, still more quietly. Not that he had noticed until the present contrast hit him over the head with it, and maybe she had a point when she brushed off his small attempts at courtship.

For a few moments he didn’t think she would answer, but eventually she stopped rearranging the bunches of lilacs in the top of her bag and looked over at him. “No. I wasn’t. But all of us did things we weren’t happy doing, to get where we wanted to go.”

Roy had to swallow before he could reply. “We did.” He hesitated a moment. “Lisa. Thank you.”

Her eyes warmed, and this smile almost made him trip over his own feet.

Maybe he owed Hughes an apology for all the ragging he’d given the man over mooning around, when he first started seeing Gracia.


It didn’t take long, after Hawkeye left for her appointment, for Roy to return to brooding. Edward Elric might be the most obvious of the lives lost to Roy’s plans and ambitions, but clearly it wasn’t the only one. And after all that, all he had done was to remove a single betrayer. The keystone, perhaps, but in the doing he’d lost the chance to do more. It wasn’t enough to balance the losses. His dark thoughts were only interrupted by Hughes’ arrival on his doorstep.

“Well, looks like the two of you have settled in all cozily,” Hughes commented, sprawling down on the couch.

Roy glared at him. On second thought, apologies were out of the question. Maas had earned every bit of grief Roy had ever given him, at one time or another. “If you don’t have anything useful to say…”

Hughes waved a hand. “Patience, patience. Actually I have a job prospect for you.”

Roy’s brows rose. So far, he had been completely unable to come up with any job he was well qualified for, outside of the military, besides maybe factory work. He’d sooner hire on with a road crew, except that he still needed the damn cane to compensate for his lost depth perception.

Hughes smiled, and propped his elbows over the back of the couch. “How’d you like to work for the government, Roy?”

Well, that was a possibility he hadn’t really considered. Roy sat back and made go-on motions.

“You know there’s still no Minister of Defense?” Hughes’ voice was casual; his eyes were anything but.

Roy’s mouth tightened. There had, in fact, been an article in the paper just this morning about Parliament’s increasing pressure on the Chancellor to select a Minister to oversee the military. He nodded silently.

“Did you know the Chancellor is going to be present for Professor Gauss’ lecture at the Central University tomorrow night?”

“And the point of this information?” Roy asked, a bit cautiously. “Hughes, you know what Gauss thinks of the State Alchemists. He’d throw me out on my ear if I attended, and what good would that do anyone?”

“He’d certainly speak to you, it’s true,” Hughes allowed beaming. “Quite vehemently, I imagine. Very difficult to ignore, that.”

Roy narrowed his eyes at his friend, mind ticking over. “Are you suggesting that I come out in support of separating the state funded alchemists from the military?” he asked, softly. It was the only thing he could think of that would make the right kind of stir at a gathering like Gauss’ lecture.

“The Chancellor seems to approve of the idea,” Hughes observed. His own gaze sharpened. “Do you still want to make sure that what you wanted to do gets done?”

Roy took a fast breath. Could he? Could he really make all the sacrifices mean something more? Carry the trust of the lives lost, one way and another, a little further? “Yes,” he said, fiercely.

Hughes’ answering smile was just as fierce. “There’s our Roy Mustang.” He pulled a folder from under his jacket and tossed it into Roy’s lap. “Here’s your hook, then. Everything I could find on Chancellor Ebert. It isn’t as much as it would have been a year ago,” he added with a sour face, “but there are still people who tell me things if I ask nicely. Up to you to reel him in.”

Roy laughed out loud. “I will.”

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 13, 05
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Counterpoint – Trading

Lisa goes back to her roots. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye

The door hadn’t changed at all.

It was the same strong-grained wood, glossy and polished with no signs of scuff marks or wear. The brass plate by the door still gleamed and the name Holbeck still marched across it in elegantly engraved letters. The name’s owner stood as Lisa was ushered into his office and held out a hand. “It’s good to see you again, Madam! What can we do for you today?”

Lisa smiled at the accounts manager, shaking his hand firmly before taking one of the deep, cushioned chairs. “For once, I actually have some work for you. How are my accounts doing?”

Holbeck whisked open the lone folder sitting in the middle of his desk and extracted two pieces of paper. He passed them over to her and sat back, hands folded. “As you can see, the account for your military salary is declining; am I correct in thinking there will be no more deposits into it?” He made a small harumph when she nodded. “Well. Your family allowance account is still accruing, of course. There was a bit of a dip, earlier this year, what with the panic over change in government, but things have smoothed out again.”

Lisa ran a quick eye over the figures, but Holbeck’s summary was really all she needed. A corner of her mouth twitched as she wondered what Roy would think if he knew that she’d learned half her officer skills from her family’s bank manager.

“Leave the salary account as it is; I’ll be drawing daily expenses from that until it’s gone. The allowance, though…” Lisa let out a slow breath. “I want to invest the whole thing.”

Holbeck blinked at her for one moment. She couldn’t blame him for taking a while to adjust; she’d been… vehement in her refusal to touch the money her family doled into that account. Totally aside from her support of Roy’s goals, it had been a matter of principle to succeed on her own merits and resources, as an officer.

“Of course, Madam,” Holbeck said, recovering. “Do you know where you wish to invest?”

Lisa handed over a sheet of her own. “I want to divide it evenly between these two companies, for now.”

Holbeck made professionally considering noises as he read. “Ah, yes, one of the building companies that’s involved down in Lior, excellent choice. And…” He hesitated and glanced up at her. “Cary Munitions? You’re sure, Madam? They don’t have any major contracts…” He trailed off as Lisa smiled.

“They don’t yet,” she agreed.

A gleam of anticipation lit Holbeck’s eye. “I see.” He tucked the paper into her folder. “If I may say so, Madam, you are your father’s daughter.”

Lisa’s smile tilted. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

And now the skills her father had taught her would serve the ends of the man she had chosen to follow. The man Jordan Hawkeye had insisted was unworthy of his only daughter.

“On that subject,” Holbeck added in a suddenly cautious tone, “we have, as you directed, answered all your family’s inquiries about your allowance account. Do you wish to change that policy now?”

Lisa sighed. “No. If you suddenly stop answering their questions they’ll just come bother me.” Even she could hear that her laugh was brittle.

“As you say, Madam,” Holbeck murmured.

She knew Holbeck had been worried and saddened by the chilly silence between his best clients and their daughter, the girl who used to sit on the floor of his office and make pretend ledger entries on the backs of old bills while he did business with her parents. Lisa summoned a more genuine smile for him. “I imagine I’ll be seeing you more often, now, Mr. Holbeck.”

“Indeed.” He brightened. “I’ll look forward to it. We all will.”

They parted cordially and Lisa paused on the steps of the bank to look up at the tall stone arches. This was her family’s world. She wasn’t sure she was ready to come back to it. But she was sure that she had agreed with Roy Mustang seven years ago, and that she still did now. For her, nothing had changed. One method she was uncertain of had been replaced by another. The fight went on.

Her shoulders straightened and she turned down the steps to head home.

TBC

Last Modified: Sep 26, 08
Posted: Dec 13, 05
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Once More…Dear Friends – Four

Roy stirs things up and gets a new job. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Roy lurked by the wall, watching the reception get into swing. The long, windowed hall was bright with lamps and starting to echo with the rise and fall of voices commenting on Professor Gauss’ presentation. It was worth comment, Roy thought. Gauss was not known as a good teacher, but he did have the gift of framing his conclusions clearly and completely, and any lecture of his was worth attending.

Of course, Hughes had failed to mention that this presentation would be about the ethics of civilians doing alchemical research for the military. Roy would have to think of a suitable way to thank him for that little surprise.

The small cluster around Gauss moved toward the buffet table, looking like it would cross into the Chancellor’s sphere where he leaned against a wall of his own. Time to move.

Roy couldn’t help a faint smile when Gauss stiffened at the sight of him; fortunately a bit of smugness would only start things off on the right note. He nodded cordially as he picked up a glass of wine. “Professor Gauss. An excellent presentation, as usual.”

“Mustang!” Gauss nostrils pinched. “I hardly expected you to attend. Surely you can’t have any interest in the subject of alchemical ethics.”

“On the contrary Professor,” Roy returned coolly. “I’ve had a great deal of interest in it for a long time.”

Gauss’ mouth worked like he wanted to spit. “You! What interest could someone like you, who willingly uses your abilities as an officer of the military, claim to have?”

“Because I was an officer, Professor.” Roy let his voice drop, relaxed for once and let some of the passion he rarely allowed in public view to show. “Only those who are willing to give themselves wholly to the service of their country and abide by the restrictions of an officer’s training and discipline have any place practicing alchemy for the military. Only those who can make no pretense to themselves or others that they have not chosen to kill with their power.” Roy lifted his chin and stood straight, offering no apology for his own choice.

Gauss eyed him with suspicion, but also, perhaps, a hint of grudging respect for that honesty. “That wasn’t what your precious military did, though.”

Roy’s mouth quirked. “No. One of the drawbacks of being an officer, I admit, was the requirement that I obey my superiors. Even when I thought their policy was wrong. All I could do under those circumstances was shield those under my own command. And seek enough seniority to affect policy myself.” He shrugged.

Gauss examined him for a long moment. “If I hear right, you won’t be affecting much of anything now, will you?” he asked at last, conversationally. Roy stiffened.

“If we are fortunate,” he answered, slightly stifled, “our new government will make it less necessary.”

“I suppose we can always hope,” Gauss snorted.

They exchanged wary nods and Roy took his drink and retreated to a window. He leaned his head against the cool glass and took a slow breath. Speaking, however vaguely, of the events that led to his discharge had spilled a box of memories that he tried to keep closed these days. Bright, clear, cutting moments recalled themselves: his own flame spreading like a live thing over the stones of Ishvar; excusing himself to run and empty his stomach when he met Tucker’s first chimera; the Elric brothers and their search, and Hawkeye’s voice telling him of Edward’s sacrifice and what it had accomplished.

Silently, he apologized to those memories for stopping. Another breath, and he straightened. He was moving again, now.


Hawkeye was sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in her robe, one leg tucked up under her, when Roy got home. She had the big teapot steaming in front of her, and one of Roy’s teacups was set out at his place. “How did it go?” she asked, nodding toward it.

Roy poured out a cup for himself and wrapped his hands around its warmth with a sigh. “Just the way I expected it to. The Chancellor definitely noticed.” His mouth twisted. “The entire room noticed, I imagine. Now we’ll see if it was enough.”

She took a sip from her cup, eyes steady on him over the rim. “Will you really be satisfied with this?” Roy blinked at her and she snorted softly. “Just because I didn’t particularly enjoy being a soldier doesn’t mean I didn’t notice that you did.”

The thing that gave him hope, no matter how puzzling Lisa was to him, was that she so obviously cared. That probably wasn’t what he should be thinking about right now, though, and Roy made himself consider her question. “If I understand the position correctly, yes. I think it will be quite satisfying,” he answered, softly.

She nodded briskly. “Good.” She set her tea down with a clink. “Then all we can do now is wait. In the meantime, you can help me prune the apple tree. It looks like it will put out a lot of fruit, this year. If we want any at all next year we should trim it back, according to Renata. “

The new topic was welcome, even if their next door neighbor, Renata, wasn’t his very favorite source of advice. Roy wrapped prosaic home-concerns around him like a blanket against the cold of uncertainty. “Do we have heavy enough shears for that?” he asked dubiously, tallying up their accumulated yard implements. There weren’t many, so far.

“No,” Hawkeye said calmly, “but we do have two spare shovels and an alchemist, which should amount to the same thing. Maybe you can even get a new name out of it—the Household Alchemist.”

And then she giggled, probably at his expression.


Four days later Roy ran a slightly paranoid hand through his hair, as he followed a Chancellery Guard, to make absolutely sure there were no apple leaves or twigs still stuck in it. He was fairly sure his appearance wasn’t why his guide was giving him dubious looks, but it didn’t hurt to be sure.

The dubious looks escalated to a muffled protest when Roy was announced and the Chancellor waved for the Guard to stand outside the door. Ebert sighed.

“Do you want to kill me?” he asked Roy, bluntly.

Roy opened his mouth and closed it again. “No,” he managed, finally.

“There, see?” The Chancellor made a shooing motion at the Guard, and turned back into his office.

Roy firmly suppressed his amusement at the exasperated look the Guard directed at Ebert’s back and instead gave the man a sympathetic smile on his way in.

“Sit,” Ebert directed, taking a seat behind his desk and leaning back, rather wearily to Roy’s eye. “So, tell me, did you know I was going to be at Professor Gauss’ presentation?”

Clearly, Roy was heading for another superior who could spot him coming and going. This could be good or bad. “I was aware of your presence,” he offered.

The Chancellor gave him a wintry smile for that diplomatic prevarication. “You know how to speak the language. Good.” He leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “Parliament is right; we need a Minister of Defense. But, aside from the difficulty in finding someone qualified, the job is going to be bad enough that I don’t want to appoint anyone who doesn’t understand what they’re heading into and volunteer for it anyway. You have the knowledge for the job, and seem to have the ambition; that leaves us with disclosure. So listen.”

Blunt was definitely the order of the day. Roy composed himself to listen.

“Our neighboring countries are furious over our expansion into their territories, and the fact that there’s a new government doesn’t stop them from holding us responsible. What it has done, so far, is suggest enough civil unrest and disorder that they’ve taken the opportunity to counter-attack across our borders. I’m trying to make new treaties without giving away any of our land or emptying our treasury, but it’s damn slow going. Drachma, especially, wants both territorial concessions and reparations. So the person who’s put in charge of the military will have to convince them to hold firm at the borders without allowing any more ventures across them into our neighbors’ land. I’m told that’s incredibly stupid, tactically speaking; the Minister will have to enforce it anyway. He will also have to figure out how to keep some kind of stability among our recent conquests without starting any more outright civil wars, because we can’t afford more of those. Somehow, we’re going to have to wave the threat of military alchemists in our neighbors’ faces and at the same time give evidence of reforming our State-sponsored alchemical research to ensure that atrocities like those of the past fifty years don’t happen again. The Minister of Defense will be the one doing the lion’s share of this work, and he’s the one who will have to take the fall if any of it blows up.” Ebert sat back. “Still want the job?”

Roy had to take a moment to catch his breath, after that litany of disasters waiting to happen. The immediate thought that this was a life’s work and more was both terrifying and oddly comforting. “I didn’t imagine it would be an easy job,” he answered at last, quietly. “Yes, I do want it.”

“Why?”

Roy smiled crookedly back at the Chancellor’s narrow gaze. If blunt was Ebert’s style, Roy could give him blunt back. “I imagine you pulled my personnel file, Chancellor. It must note that my first deployment in the field was to Ishvar.”

Ebert tapped his fingers on one of the folders stacked about his desk and nodded.

“I gave myself to my country as a soldier, Chancellor,” Roy said, looking down at his folded hands. “I wasn’t unwilling. But what happened there was insanity. I wanted to keep it from happening again.” He looked up. “And now you’re offering me the leverage to see that it doesn’t. You have your volunteer, Sir, if I’m the one you want.”

“God help us both, Mustang, I think you probably are.” Ebert sighed, and then paused. “Did you really kill Bradley?” he asked in a tone of academic curiosity.

Roy couldn’t quite stifle a wince. He’d hoped this wouldn’t come up. He was entirely too likely to get himself, not only barred from office, but thrown in a mental hospital if he answered honestly. But Chancellor Ebert was the man in charge of the whole nation, now, and if anyone needed all the information straight, it was him.

He took a deep breath. “If I may tell the whole story from the start?” At Ebert’s nod he settled back and tried to order his thoughts. “Human transmutation is forbidden because of what it results in…”

Ebert listened to the whole explanation, of Homunculi, of the Red Stone, of the wars fought only to drive desperate research, with no expression. When Roy finished he was silent for a minute.

“That would sound far more unreasonable if I hadn’t spent the past couple months reading over the results of State Alchemists’ research and the specific orders Bradley sent to certain officers in charge of the worst incidents,” he said, at last. “As it is, I regret to say that I believe you. For everyone else’s consumption, I suggest you stick to the story that Bradley was killed by runaway monsters of research, not that he was one himself. It will make a good, acceptable reason to limit future research and oversee it more closely.”

Roy nodded, his respect for Ebert’s political abilities rising another notch. “Yes, Sir.”

Ebert heaved a long breath. “All right, Mustang. I’m going to appoint you. You’ll have to appear before Parliament, in case they have any questions while they debate your approval for the post. Be prepared.”

“Of course.”

They exchanged sharp smiles along with firm handshakes, in parting. This superior’s clear perception, Roy decided, was a good thing. What a pleasant change.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 14, 05
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Once More…Dear Friends – Five

Team Mustang dives into politics. Drama, I-3

Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Roy was glad it took Parliament a handful of days to clear their schedules enough to call him in. It took that long to hammer out a story about the past year that would match all checkable facts and not land any of them in prison for murder or in front of a firing squad for treason.

“Okay, so you hustled my body out of town because you suspected I had been attacked by Gran’s remaining faction to stop me telling about some of his Alchemists’ work.” Hughes scribbled a few more dates on the sheets of scratch paper scattered over the living room floor. “That should work. And Gran’s dead so he can’t object. Even better.”

“I was right,” Hawkeye put in from the couch, flipping through a binder that had somehow wandered out of Personnel without being checked out. “None of the guards who heard me tell Bradley you were staging an insurrection survived. And Havoc says that the memories of the surviving soldiers from that northern deployment are very fuzzy about just why there was a need to plan an attack on Central. The idea that it was to rescue Bradley, not depose him, seems to make all of them very relieved.”

“That’s direct testimony taken care of, then.” Roy stretched and yawned. “Thank you for handling that.” He paused as a thought struck him. “I don’t suppose you’d like a job with the ministry, too?” He slid a casual mask over a certain amount of hopefulness.

Hawkeye sniffed. “It was bad enough, dealing with bureaucratic idiots as an officer,” she noted. “I’m not going to deal with them as a secretary.”

Roy sighed, but couldn’t help a small smirk as he admitted, “I do have a bit of difficulty picturing you as a typical secretary.”

“Ministerial aide?” Hughes suggested with a grin.

“That’s just a secretary with a better salary,” Lisa objected. “Money doesn’t help with the idiots.”

Roy listened to them, amused. Lisa had always had an edge of exasperation to her when she’d had to deal with Hughes, but it actually seemed to be softening into something like teasing now that she’d left military formality behind.

“So aim higher,” Hughes declaimed. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t expect a good job out of this. I do.”

Roy smirked at him. “It’ll be nice to see someone else get accused of promotion through favoritism for a change.”

Lisa shook her head at both of them and reached for the next binder.


It was not an entirely new experience to hear his merits and flaws debated over his head in his presence. It seemed to be a favorite tactic of generals when they called field officers up on the carpet. But it had a different flavor when politicians were doing it.

“… valiantly risked his life and career to safeguard his country’s leader, I’d say that’s a good sign!”

It was harder to keep a straight face, for one thing.

“One, haven’t we just finished saying that it’s a damn good thing Bradley’s gone?” inquired one of the more skeptical Members, Rosa Luxemburg if Roy recalled correctly. “And two, if it was all about valor and so on, why did he lose his career?” The compression of her lips as she sniffed reminded Roy irresistibly of his Aunt Helena, as did the sharp gaze she bent on the other end of the gallery. “Since we have Hakuro-taisho here, perhaps we should ask him, hm?”

Roy approved. Hakuro had been practically vibrating in his seat for the past ten minutes; it wouldn’t do for him to actually explode. Roy might need him later.

Hakuro surged to his feet at the President’s invitation. “You do well to ask, Madam! Mustang was discharged because he was suspected of causing King Bradley’s death!”

Startled silence rippled over the Chamber. Perfect. Roy sighed into that silence and lifted a brow at Hakuro as the Parliament turned to look at him.

“Taisho, I realize that we have often been opponents due to our efforts to further our individual careers. But surely you can see that it’s no longer necessary. Our careers will run in different paths, now.” He let his mouth tighten a bit, and watched the room full of politicians take in the implication that Hakuro was attempting to slander his late competition.

Hakuro, on the other hand, seemed to completely miss it, just as expected. “That’s beside the point,” he snapped.

Roy sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “The point, Taisho, is that you didn’t have any proof when you came up with a way to be rid of me, and you don’t have any now. You accomplished what you thought appropriate; I’m a civilian. Be satisfied.”

Anger and triumph mixed in Hakuro’s face in answer to this straight line. “Yes, a civilian,” he growled. “Just what suits your backstabbing cowardice.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed. “Taisho,” he rapped out coldly, cutting across the several sharp inhalations through the Chamber and crossing his fingers in hopes that Hakuro wouldn’t notice them, “you forget who you address.”

Hakuro reared back. “What?!”

“Or do you disdain to take orders a civilian?” Roy asked, softly, laying the last piece of bait down with care.

“Who wouldn’t?” Hakuro shot back.

The rustle of disturbance in the Chamber became something close to a roar, and Roy sat back, watching it jerk Hakuro back to awareness of where they were and who was listening. He suppressed a grimace. It had almost been easy enough to make him feel guilty, watching Hakuro’s sudden confusion.

Almost.

Finally, Roy raised his voice. “Enough!” He looked only at Hakuro, as if he still addressed the General, but the Parliament quieted, too. “We will discuss this later, Taisho,” he said, firmly. “If it is Parliament’s pleasure.”

Hakuro sank back into his chair, unable to do anything else at that point. Luxemburg spoke into the silence that followed.

“All right, Friedrich.” She turned an imperious look on the Chancellor. “I see your point. I withdraw my objections.”

Roy met her hard green eyes, as murmurs of agreement spread among the other Members. There was no trust there, and his mouth quirked.

“Thank you for your understanding, Madam.” He said nothing about her support, which is was clear to him he didn’t have.

An unwilling answering amusement tugged at her lips. “Quite.”


“… the Chancellery Guards are your guards, too, now. Here’s your office.” Ebert pushed open a thick, dark wood door to show a large, handsome office and a large, handsome desk stacked with a large pile of folders. “Those are the profiles of available, qualified people in other Ministries that you can draw on to build your staff. I think that’s everything.” He clapped Roy on the shoulder. “Go to it. Good luck.”

Another mountain of personnel folders. Lovely. “Ah, Chancellor,” Roy lifted a hand, and Ebert looked over his shoulder on his way out the door. “Can I draw on other sources for staff?”

Ebert grinned. “Have some soldiers in mind? Sure, just pass them with Karr, over in Intelligence.” He waved. “We’ll see you Friday for the weekly Cabinet meeting.”

Roy leaned against his desk and surveyed his new domain for a long moment. A staff would be nice, but first things first. He dug out the phone and called the front desk. Ten minutes later Hakuro was shown in.

Roy rested his shoulders against the cool glass of a window and crossed his arms, considering the man in front of him. Hakuro stood stiffly, jaw set.

“You’re a good soldier, Taisho,” Roy said, at last, and watched Hakuro blink. “You’re a good soldier,” he repeated, “but you’re not suited to politics. The two don’t generally go well together. So what I need to know is whether you can do your job and leave the politics to me.” He turned to face the window. “If you can, I’ll leave you in charge of the army. If you can’t I’ll call Werther-chuujo back from East City to replace you.”

And if Hakuro tried to keep playing the game by lying to him about his intentions, now, Roy would have to remove him completely, and that would be a loss of experience the army couldn’t well afford at the moment.

“What job are you going to do?” Hakuro asked after a moment.

Roy smiled. A question instead of a reply was a good sign; a quick answer would almost certainly have been a lie. “I’m going to do my best to pull us all out of the hole Bradley dumped us in,” he replied, candidly, and tapped a finger against the glass. “It will involve some very difficult maneuvers from the Army, and I need someone in charge who can hold them together anyway.” He turned to look Hakuro in the eye. “Hold them together and obey my orders.”

Hakuro’s face was a study in conflicting emotions. Roy picked out pleasure that someone thought Hakuro was capable of this; fury, probably at the idea of taking orders from Roy; and shock, probably at the coldness of Roy’s tone. Come to think of it, Hakuro had never heard Roy giving direct orders, had he?

Well, he’d better get used to it, now.

Finally Hakuro drew himself up to something that wasn’t quite attention. “Very well,” he said, tightly. “Sir.”

Ambition won again. One problem down, fifteen thousand and forty three to go. “Good. I’ll be in touch, Taisho.” Roy nodded a dismissal. Hakuro was barely out the door before he’d pulled the phone out of the paper mountain again.

“Hughes? It all worked out. Get over to Karr and convince him to clear you. We’ll figure out what your job title is later…”

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 16, 05
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Counterpoint – Home Office

Lisa unveils her own new job. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Lisa looked up from the paper as Roy trudged down the front hall and into the living room. He looked rumpled and tired, which had been true for weeks now, but also pleased, which had been far more rare.

“Triumph!” He brandished a briefcase in the air.

Lisa laughed. “It’s smaller than a suitcase. Does that mean you’re caught up at work?”

“Finally. Mostly.” He sighed and slumped into his armchair, trying to kick his shoes off without unlacing them first. “Material resources for my area is still a touchy question, but I have a staff and it’s operating. Now I get to wait and see who isn’t as good as their file said they were.” He gave her a sidelong look from under his lashes.

Lisa pretended not to notice. She’d had plenty of practice; he’d mentioned what an outstanding aide she was at least once a week since acquiring his new job. “Congratulations,” she said, instead. “Have an apple.” She slid the basket across the low table with a stockinged toe.

Roy eyed the small red and green streaked fruit. “Are those from the tree out back? I thought it would be longer…”

“Mmm.” Lisa scribbled a note next to the stock report for Kitchener Industry and tapped her pencil against her lips. “These are just the first few that are ripe. But it has been that long, you know.” She looked up and smiled at him ruefully. “You’ve been working so hard I think you lost track of a little time.”

“Yes. I suppose so.” He sighed quietly and leaned forward to grab an apple. The sharp crunch of his first bite was followed by a sound of pleased surprise.

“They’re good, aren’t they?” Lisa took another for herself, the third of the day so far. “Gracia says they won’t work very well for cooking with but should keep for a long time. I was thinking of cleaning off a shelf in the cellar for them.”

“Excellent idea,” Roy mumbled around a mouthful. “Maybe I should send a basket to Werner Metals, see if I can sweeten them up a little before the next round of negotiations over Army contracts and federal standards.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Lisa stated. She pulled a binder off the shelf beside the couch and flipped through it under Roy’s startled gaze. “What you should do is negotiate with Cary Munitions instead.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed. “It’s true Werner isn’t keeping up with the new certification and accountability as well as I’d like,” he said, slowly, “but Cary doesn’t have the capacity to manufacture as much as operations demand.”

Lisa pulled out a sheaf of papers with neat price and volume figures all laid out, and handed it over. “They do now.”

Roy ran an eye down the columns, brows lifting. Finally he looked back at her, question hovering on his quirked lips.

Lisa folded her hands and lifted her chin. “Research advances will be taken care of by another company. Building capacity will be the next issue, for more than the weapons companies; that, too, will be taken care of.” Pride lent assurance to her voice, and if she had personal reservations about turning her hand to finance and industry she refused to show it to him. “You will have the resources at the standards you need. Minister.”

She really couldn’t help a satisfied smile at the stunned realization spreading over Roy’s face. To be perfectly honest, she didn’t try all that hard.

“I’ll find some other aide,” he murmured, at last. “I doubt they’ll be as good as you. But then,” recovering some of his usual poise he smiled crookedly, “I’m beginning to doubt anyone could be.”

Lisa felt her cheeks heating and busied herself with another bite of her apple. Under that sincere praise the discomfort of her family’s ghostly presence over her shoulder faded a bit. Yes; she could do this.

They could both do this.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 17, 05
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Once More…Dear Friends – Six

Lisa and Roy reach an understanding. Romance, I-4

Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Roy looked out the back door at Lisa and Black Hayate romping back and forth under gold leaves. Her hair was tangled from the breeze and there were grass stains on her knees. She was laughing as she held up a stout stick for Black Hayate to leap after, and bits of bark had smeared her palms with black and brown.

She was beautiful.

He was reminded of that less frequently, lately, since he spent nearly twelve hours a day in his office. As if to make up for it, when he did have occasion to notice it afresh it hit him all the harder.

In their old jobs, her flawless professionalism had shielded him. Now it was just one more hook, one more aspect of her magnificence. Now he could also see her humor and happiness, her love for each moment of life as it came. Now her competence and relentless focus highlighted the other parts of her.

Steps scuffed up behind his shoulder and he looked around to see Maas shaking his head with an expression of tolerant affection. “You should say something, you know.”

Roy didn’t bother with denials. “If I could figure out what to say, I would,” he sighed.

Hughes clutched his chest in fake shock. “Mustang, at a loss for what to say to a woman? Is the world ending?” He glanced around with exaggerated worry.

Roy scowled at him, wondering which coat he’d left his gloves in. “Oh, shut up.”

Maas’ mouth twisted. “Seriously, Roy,” he said, voice lowering. “You have an advantage, here, but I’m not sure how long it’s going to last.”

Roy was still searching for a good answer to that when Lisa spotted them lurking inside the door and waved.

“Roy! Your turn! Come on; you won’t ever get rid of that cane if you don’t exercise.”

He abandoned Hughes at once and was halfway across the yard before he wondered why Hughes was suddenly laughing.


Roy decided, later, that it must have been Hughes’ fault. Those remarks must have stuck in the back of his head. Because it was a mere two nights later that he was putting away his dishes while Lisa washed hers, and glanced over to see the light sliding over her hair where it was slipping out of its clip and the shimmer of water on her cheekbone as she brushed a strand back with a damp wrist. And his mouth stepped in without consulting his brain.

“I’ve never met another woman who’s so beautiful when she isn’t trying,” he murmured.

And then he winced as she stiffened, abruptly reminded of why he’d gone so long without speaking up. Well, no way out but through, now that he had.

“Is there any particular reason you don’t like to be complimented?” It came out a little more plaintively than Roy intended, but he was really at a loss.

There was genuine anger in Lisa’s face as she rounded on him, and he took a startled step back. “Yes, there is. It’s because that’s exactly how you talk to every other woman in the world, right before you assume that she’ll be swooning at your feet and ignore her! You’ll pardon me if I prefer that you don’t treat me like that!” She swung back around to the the sink and grabbed another of her dishes, spine rigid.

Roy stood with his mouth ajar, while his mind tried to run in three directions at once. If it sounded the same he really should probably stop trying to compliment her. But he didn’t want to! And it wasn’t the same at all; Lisa was nothing like other women. Honestly, did she think he was stupid enough to expect her to flutter and swoon like the others? Well, obviously, if she was this angry.

…if she was this angry…

Roy put his jaw back where it belonged and took a deep breath. All right, maybe Hughes had a point after all. If he was wrong he was probably about to get a lot worse than a slap. If he was right, it would be worth it. He came into her arm’s reach. “Lisa.” She looked back at him and he winced at the darkness in her eyes. Another breath. “I don’t think of you the way I think of them. Truly.”

She turned all the way around, expression challenging. “Then how do you think of me?”

“You… impress me,” Roy said, slowly. His mouth quirked. “It would honestly never occur to me that you would be that silly, getting all starry eyed over a couple smooth words.”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “Then why do you say them to me?”

Roy paused, surprised at the force with which the answer came to him. And then he let out his breath and lifted his hand to touch a strand of her hair with hesitant fingers. “Because this time they’re true.”

She searched his face for a long moment; in fact, that one moment felt longer than the entire past year of puzzling and wondering. What she found seemed to satisfy her at last, though, because her expression softened and she nodded. “All right.”

When she set a hand on his chest Roy wondered distantly whether she could feel his heart speed up under her palm. He closed his eyes and lifted her other hand to press to his lips.

“Thank you.”

When he opened his eyes she was smiling.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 19, 05
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Only Tactics

Hakuro reflects grimly on Mustang’s influence. Drama, I-2

Character(s): Hakuro

Fitz Hakuro eyed a sheaf of papers on his desk with distaste. Transfer requests didn’t normally merit that kind of glare, but these weren’t normal transfers. In fact, they were special requests from the Minister of Defense that certain officers and enlisted be permitted to leave active status so they could take civilian positions with the Ministry and “contribute the perspective of professional soldiers” to “achieve a balanced and equitable view from which to formulate policy” without “permanently removing trained officers from the pipeline, should they be needed”.

It was a messy idea, a jury-rigged, special-dispensation way to disorder records and assignments. It proposed to bend regulations into pretzels without ever quite breaking their letter.

It was Mustang all over.

Which, these days, he reflected sourly, meant he couldn’t deny it without a really good reason. He should have just demoted the man.

He sighed and pulled the papers towards him. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and so forth. On the bright side, at least Mustang wanted to grab off ones who were traitorously loyal to him from the start. Sergeant Fury, Lieutenant Ross, Private Scieszka. Really, it was too bad he couldn’t palm Armstrong off on Mustang, too, and put all the bad eggs in one basket. Fortunately the buffoon seemed happy enough with his field assignments in the East and didn’t make trouble. He signed off on one after another.

He tossed his pen on the stack, when he was done, and sat back. Let Mustang have joy of them. It would get them off his hands and away, and that was the important part.

Especially if he ever wanted to do something about Mustang.

He sat back with a small, dreamy smile and contemplated the future.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 19, 05
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Research

Ross fields some odd questions from her new boss. Drama and Romance, I-2

Character(s): Maria Ross, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Maria snuck a sidelong glance at her superior. The Minister had been pausing to stare off into space more often than usual today, and she was starting to get just a bit worried.

She was also starting to think she should have kept Havoc-chuui pinned to the wall a lot longer while she pressed information on her new position out of him.

When the Minister spoke, without that abstracted expression altering in the slightest, she was so startled she jumped.

“Ross-kun,” he murmured, not seeming to notice. “What do women really want?”

Maria stared. “I beg your pardon?”

“No, really.” He leaned his chin on a fist. “In the long term.”

She told herself sternly to pull it together. It was, after all, just barely possible that this was an inquiry in the line of work. “What anyone wants, for the most part,” she essayed cautiously. “A comfortable life; a family and children, usually; fulfilling work; someone to share it all with…” She trailed off, eyes narrowing. Didn’t he have someone who fit in with most of this, already? Or almost have her… “Do you really think it’s better to ask your assistant about this than your housemate?”

The corners of his mouth curled up at her suddenly suspicious tone. “It seemed wise to have the widest possible information base,” he answered with a virtuous air.

She’d thought so. “If you’re having problems, Sir, you should talk directly to the woman involved,” she told him firmly.

His gaze sharpened again. “Should I?” He gave her a long look. “Well, that answers the question after all, doesn’t it?” He straightened in his chair and shoved the random bit of paper he’d been doodling on out of the way. “Anything in the mail bag I should take care of right away?”

Maria smiled with relief. He was back to normal. “Yes, Sir, one item. Hakuro-taisho mentions the garrison closest to New Ishvar would like permission for soldiers to visit the city while off-duty. I would have returned that one with a veto, given your policy, but since it’s directly from him…” She shrugged.

The Minister’s eyes turned icy. “He wants to change that policy, does he? Very well. They can visit.” He leaned back and folded his hands. “No more than three at a time, sidearms only, and I’ll hang the first soldier who’s involved in an incident of any kind in any way.”

Maria swallowed and reached for her pen to note the terms down. “Yes, Sir.”

She wished Lisa Hawkeye luck.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 20, 05
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Counterpoint – Previous Experience

Lisa gets tired of waiting and coaxes Roy into bed. Romance with Porn, I-4

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Lisa was leaning on her windowsill with her chin in one hand when Roy tapped on her door and came in to say goodnight. She smiled and turned to pull him down beside her on the foot of her bed. She wasn’t in the mood to let him get away with a kiss in passing, tonight.

Roy puzzled her lately. She was reasonably sure that she was making it clear he was welcome, but he still moved very slowly with her. She’d have said hesitantly, if it weren’t for the way he kissed, in fact. He kissed her like he wanted to taste her heart on his tongue, like the texture of her mouth would answer life’s deepest questions.

And then he drew back.

Lisa tightened her arms around him, as she felt his loosen at her waist. She was tired of this. “You don’t have to stop, you know,” she pointed out, softly.

And there it was again. That flash of uncertainty in his eyes. It made even less sense right at the moment than usual, considering what she’d just said. Unless…

She loosened her own hold a little. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.” It didn’t come out quite as lightly as she’d hoped, but it was probably close enough.

And then again, maybe not. His arms tightened around her, hard enough to pull her a few inches over her blankets and snugly against him.

“That isn’t—” The protest was sharp, and cut off just as sharply. She felt the quick breath Roy took. “It isn’t that,” he said, more calmly, “it’s just that I’m…” Dark eyes turned away from hers and his voice dropped to a mutter. “I… never have. Before.”

Lisa’s jaw dropped; she couldn’t help it. The faint color across Roy’s cheekbones as he cleared his throat didn’t help. The Conqueror of the Typing Pool, The Thief of Girlfriends, had never… “Really?”

He twitched at the incredulous question, and Lisa found herself torn between hilarity and utter smugness. She managed to stifle the outright laughter, but her mouth curled up in a grin as she leaned back into him. All hers. “Well, that’s all right. I have.”

Roy’s eyes shot back to hers and he opened his mouth. Paused. Closed it again. This time she couldn’t hold back the giggle and the look he gave her was rather jaundiced. She leaned her head on his shoulder and slid her fingers through his hair. “It really is all right,” she said, more softly. “More than all right.”

“Well. Good.” His fingers played with the hem of her pajama top.

She was silent for a moment. “Why didn’t you?” she asked, at last, running a finger down the worn texture of his undershirt. “I mean, you must have kissed them.” Her tone turned wry. “You’ve clearly had practice.”

For once he didn’t preen. “It was… too dangerous. To have any of them that close. And the women who were willing to have something completely uninvolved never really appealed to me.” He smoothed a strand of her hair. “None of them were anything like you.”

Lisa thought she might be blushing, and the way Roy’s eyes softened made it all the more likely. On the other hand, now that she knew he wasn’t actually reluctant…

She spread a hand against his chest and leaned in to steal a kiss, light and coaxing. Roy answered her slowly, as if he wondered just what she wanted to do now. Fair enough. She slipped her hands under the edge of his shirt and slid her fingers along his lowest ribs; his breath caught short against her mouth and she drew back with a questioning look. After a long moment his lips curved and he lifted his arms to let her tug the shirt off.

She smoothed her palms back down his chest, letting herself take her time and appreciate the texture of his skin. His breath hitched again when she reached his stomach, and his own hands tightened where they’d settled on her waist. One hand lifted, though, and Lisa shivered as his fingertips traced the open neck of her top, settling on the first button.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, answering the tilt of his head.

He undid the buttons with studious care, but heat rose under the hesitance in his eyes when she shrugged it off. That heat pleased her; she wanted more of it. Lisa stood to shut the door against inquisitive canines and let her pajama pants drop from her hips before she turned back to him. His head tilted back to see her face, eyes wide in the low light; his hands came up to find her hips as she rested her hands on his shoulders. She took a long, smiling breath. His hands were warm and she could feel their strength, even through this delicate grip.

She slid a knee onto the bed and pushed him back until she could settle over him. They were both breathing a little quickly, now, she could feel his chest rise and fall under her as his hands moved up her back; when she leaned down for another kiss he caught her mouth with fierce intensity in return. Heat tingled through her and a small sound of approval hummed in her throat. Her fingers traced over his chest, marking the hard lines of muscle, gently circling a nipple, dipping over his collarbones, and a soft gasp answered her.

Lisa made herself slow down as his hands smoothed over her ribs and his thumbs stroked the curve of her breasts cautiously. She’d been lucky her first time; Roy should be, too. She leaned up on her elbows to let him explore. The careful brush of his fingers started small shudders low in her stomach, and her eyes half-lidded in appreciation.

“Lisa.” The whisper drew her attention from his hands to his face, and her lips parted. Roy was looking at her—at nothing but her—with a focus she’d only ever seen when he faced mortal danger. Except that, where his eyes were cold, then, they were warm now.

“I’m here,” she whispered back, the only answer she could find to the depth of that look.

Roy caught her close and buried his face in the tangled fall of her hair. “Yes.” His voice was low and husky.

Lisa had to swallow hard. She’d hoped all along that Gracia was right, that Roy did feel something deeper than simple respect or even affection for her; but she hadn’t truly expected such naked confirmation. The renewed slide of his hands down her back and legs was welcome; it was a much simpler pleasure.

Her own hands were impatient, now, seeking down his body to strip off the last of his clothes. His gaze on her turned heavy and sultry as she settled back against him, completely skin to skin. Her lips curled wickedly, and she straddled his hips and rocked against him. They gasped together.

“Roy. Now?” She didn’t want to push him too fast, but heat was lapping through her again and she wanted very much to feel more of him.

His gaze flickered, uncertainty struggling with straightforward desire in it. “If… yes.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his throat. “It’s all right.” The assurance was a little breathless. She pushed herself upright and reached down to guide him. His hands locked on her thighs and his eyes widened as he started to slide into her. Slowly his head eased past the first tightness and Lisa released a soft moan as the sensation turned smooth. A harsh indrawn breath from Roy answered, and a tiny laugh escaped her.

His eyes, on her, were wide and blind and deep with something like shock as she rocked up and back down, and his hips slowly flexed to meet her. Pleasure shivered up her spine and caught low in her throat—pleasure at the hardness stroking heat through her body and, more, at the fire and darkness and wonder in Roy’s face.

“Roy…” She broke off with a moan as he slid deeper, and smiled through parted lips as she felt his hands sliding up her body and over her breasts. “Oh, yes.” Her fingers kneaded against his chest and she started to move more strongly.

Full pleasure sang through her each time their hips met, rising in slow waves. It was hot and sleek and good, and Roy’s voice ran through it like a velvet ribbon, calling her name, tugging at her. She caught one of his hands and guided it down until his fingers brushed her clitoris. Sharper pleasure shot through her and she arched. “Mmmm, there.”

A shadow of the accustomed calculation, the usual smile, crossed Roy’s face, and his fingers stroked her softly, testing. She let her hand rest over his and rode the sensation as fire coiled through her, slow and thick. His heartbeat was speeding, under her palm, rapid as her breath, and she let go and let her body lead the way. Pleasure swelled and rose and rose again, and her voice caught in her throat as it surged into something overwhelming and snatched her attention away from anything but the flooding heat as her body tightened.

She felt Roy arch under her, taut; heard him groan. She stretched, over him, and laughed. “Now, Roy,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.” A hard thrust answered her and she gasped approval as it drew a slow aftershock from her body. His movement was faster, now, and she smiled as it turned ragged, and tangled her fingers with his. His hands clutched hers as if she were an anchor.

He dropped back against the bed, and she slid down over him, breath slowing again.

She had a small urge to tease him, to say There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? But his expression, still rather amazed, stopped her. Instead she simply wound her arms around him and snuggled against his shoulder, taking enjoyment in the warmth of his skin against hers. His fingers found her hair and combed through it slowly, soothing her to the edge of sleep.

At least until he said, “Do you want to get married?”

Lisa sputtered a bit, pushing herself up on one elbow to stare at him. He returned it with a look of mild inquiry.

“Or children,” he continued, sounding perfectly serious. He frowned a little. “I suppose I should have asked that earlier…”

“No, that’s… I… take care of that,” Lisa assured him, a bit dazed. She stared some more. “You… children?”

“Well.” He cleared his throat. “If you want.”

She couldn’t help smiling at the uneasiness lurking under his tone. “I’ve always liked children better when they’re someone else’s, actually,” she observed. She leaned against his shoulder again, laughing at the relief on his face.

His fingers traced down her arm. “And marriage? I would ask in a more suitable manner,” he added, sounding rather disgruntled, “but you never like that, and this is about as direct as I can manage.”

It took a few moments to get ahold of herself again. “I think this is quite suitable,” she told him, when she could speak without giggling. And then she really thought about it. “Yes. Something small, maybe,” she said, slowly. And, more quietly, “My mother might come.”

It was Roy’s turn to lean up on an elbow, frowning at her tone. “Lisa?” His hand cupped her cheek.

She pressed her fingers over his lips and shook her head. “I dealt with it a long time ago, Roy. They never approved, that I followed you; I know perfectly well they won’t start, now.” Despite the firm words she had to swallow a lump in her throat.

He gathered her closer, just a bit awkwardly. “Well. We’ll see,” he murmured against her hair.

Lisa blinked back the wetness in her eyes and rested against him. In a minute she’d tell him to let go so she could draw up the blanket from the foot of the bed.

In just a minute.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 20, 05
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Another Round

Havoc teases a happy Lisa. Drama and Romance, I-2

Character(s): Jean Havoc, Lisa Hawkeye
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

Jean waved his mug to catch Lisa’s attention as she squinted into the bar’s dimness from the open door. “You look cheerful,” he noted with a grin as she pulled out a chair.

Faint color painted her cheekbones and she gave him a mild glare. “Don’t you start too. Gracia is bad enough, giving me those doting looks every time I turn around.”

Jean had to admit, Gracia-san had been looking as if the whole thing had been her idea. Which made him think again about the woman who was, after all, married to Maas Hughes.

“So why don’t we talk about how your life has been going, instead,” Lisa continued, firmly.

“Because mine is incredibly boring?” Jean snorted glumly and consoled himself with another swallow. “Every morning when I come in and look at those damn stacks of paper I think I should request a field posting. This desk-job stuff is for the birds.”

“You’ll never get promoted with that attitude,” she teased, straight-faced.

“I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” he drawled and smiled when she laughed. “Seriously,” he added, “I’d volunteer for one of the Northern deployments tomorrow, except then I wouldn’t be here for—” He remembered his image just in time and bit off the rest of it, burying his nose in his mug.

“For the base Snow Games, this year? Yes, you have a title to uphold, don’t you?” Lisa was leaning her chin in her hand and giving him an affectionate and crooked smile. It didn’t quite match her innocent tone, but Jean was just grateful that she didn’t call him on his little slip in public.

“Right,” he agreed, promptly, and paused. “So, um. How is he anyway?”

“Overworking, of course.” She shrugged. “About the only things he doesn’t ignore are his exercises; food and sleep have to ambush him.”

Jean shook his head. That was Mustang, all right. “At least you’re around to make sure he gets some.”

“Mm.” Lisa smiled down into her mug. “He’s happy with the work he’s doing, though, insane hours and all. And so am I.” Her eyes turned a little distant. “Do you know, I haven’t taken my guns off their rack in over a month?”

Jean, who had always watched Lisa’s face more than her target, on the shooting range, smiled. “I hear your job is really taking off, too.”

“It’s not doing too badly,” she said in a judicious tone that seemed absurd given the amounts of money rumor said she was dealing in these days.

“Next round’s on you, then,” he declared, leaning back.

She gave him an exasperated look. “The next round was on me, anyway.”

Jean took a satisfied drag on his cigarette as she signaled the bar. Everything was on track, and he could relax.

TBC

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 22, 05
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Once More…Dear Friends – Seven

Their world has changed. Drama with Romance, I-4

Character(s): Lisa Hawkeye, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Lisa/Roy

The first assassination attempt should probably not have come as a surprise. And, in a way, it didn’t. Twelve years of being shot at for one reason and another ingrained some reflexes pretty deeply, and Roy was ducking before the motion of someone aiming to fire registered with his forebrain.

What Roy should not have let himself be surprised by was the fact that, these days, the people around him were far less able to take care of themselves. In the time it took him to pull on a glove behind the overturned buffet table, the shots tracking after him had hit two other people.

He had a lot of time to think about that while he suffered one of the Central Hospital doctors to check him over for any re-injuries and listened to the anxious voices of families out in the hall. Fate seemed to feel this was an insufficient reminder, though; just to make it all more pointed, he found Hawkeye waiting for him in the hospital lobby wearing both her guns.

“Are you all right?” she asked in a businesslike tone, eyes marking each person around them.

“Fine.”

Her eyes flickered to him, at the flatness of his voice, and then away again. “Let’s go, then.”

A car was waiting and she shepherded him briskly into it. That was familiar, but the world stretched in a moment of vertigo when she slid into the back seat beside him. She was always ahead of him, wasn’t she? Whenever it felt like the world was blowing away in ashes, she was ahead of him to arrange the details and drive the car. But no, that wasn’t what she was any more; nor what he was, any more.

The ride was a silent one.

She didn’t speak again until she’d closed and locked the front door behind them. “The doctors checked you over?” she asked quietly. He nodded. “And they’re sure there are no new injuries?” Another nod.

She stepped into him and buried her head against his shoulder and held him so tightly his ribs creaked. Roy blinked, and slowly closed his arms around her. “… Lisa.” His voice was rusty in his own ears. “It’s all right.”

“No it isn’t!” she said violently, if somewhat muffled. “Didn’t you get shot at enough when it was your job?”

He leaned his head against hers and laughed bitterly. “I wasn’t the one that got hit. Obviously, it isn’t me I need to worry about, now.”

She lifted her head to glare at him and shook him once, hard. “Yes it is! Where is everyone else going to be, if you stop worrying about yourself and it gets you killed?” She wound her arms still more tightly around him. “Idiot.”

His snort of laughter had a little genuine amusement in it, this time. “You’ve gotten a lot less polite, out of uniform.”

“Yes, now I can say it, instead of just thinking it,” she shot back, tartly.

He leaned against her with a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

That got another snort, which seemed to satisfy her enough to let go of him—at least until she’d steered him to the couch. He sat looking down at their fingers tangled together, and ran a thumb over the back of her hand, feeling the strong lines of tendon under smooth skin.

“It wasn’t a soldier. Or even an ex-soldier,” he said, at last, voice low in the still dark living room. “It wasn’t even someone from Lior, which would have made sense to me. He was from the North, a village just inside the old border.” He brooded for a moment. “What used to be a village.”

Lisa pressed closer against his side and her hair brushed his cheek as she nodded, silent and unsurprised. Of course, she knew the aftermath of marches and occupations as well as he did. “I’m going with you to these official functions of yours from now on,” was all she said.

Roy was silent for a moment, trying to negotiate between his undeniable relief at the thought of having another person nearby who was competent in danger, and the countersurge of protest that he didn’t want Lisa to put herself in danger. He frowned a little, exasperated with himself for such a ridiculous reaction.

“I’m going,” Lisa repeated, a note of warning sounding in her voice. “It’s obvious you still need someone to watch your back.” Her lips curved in the lamplight coming through the window. “Especially if it rains.”

Roy drew himself up, dignified. “I have no intention of arguing with that.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “Though it would seem rather difficult to hide two guns in an evening dress.”

Lisa snuggled comfortably into his shoulder and tugged his arm around her. “That’s what thigh holsters were invented for.”

Roy took a moment to enjoy the mental image of how some of the more stuffy Ministry officials and Members of Parliament would react to this beautiful woman in their midst calmly pulling out a gun instead of shrieking and fainting. And then he took another moment to savor the idea of taking down the assassins before they could shoot the civilians, and drew a deep, satisfied breath. He pulled Lisa a little closer and murmured against the nape of her neck, “You are a delight.”

“Oh, I get it; you just love me for my guns.” She poked him with a teasing finger, but he could feel the heat of her blush against his cheek.

“And someday I’ll even get you used to taking compliments,” he added.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe.”

Roy laughed softly and they leaned against each other in the dim warmth.

End

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Dec 22, 05
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Closed Circuit

Al wakes up, restored. Not all the news is good, though. Drama with Angst, I-4.

One

Al smelled pine as he drifted out of sleep.

That was right. He and Nii-san were home. They’d come home to… had they…?

Jolted abruptly awake he sat up all in a rush and then had to stop and try not to be dizzy. Nothing was right. There was too much light and strange shadows, and under the scent of rain was the smell of something scorched. Old ash. He stared around him blindly, trying to make sense of what he saw. Dark walls around, but only sky above him. Wet grass under his hands.

“Nii-san…?” he whispered, and then shivered hard. “Nii-san?!”

“Al…?” A soft thump behind him made him spin around, coming up onto his knees. Winry stood on the other side of a crumbled wall, with a basket of flowers spilled at her feet, staring at him.

Only… it was wrong. Winry was too big.

“Al!” Winry-he-thought-probably sprang over the wall and rushed to throw her arms around him and he yelped, a bit stifled, as he was squashed against her. “Al! Al, you’re back! Oh, Al!”

“We got back last night,” he managed. “I’m really sorry we didn’t come see you, but Nii-san wanted to start right away, and…” he trailed off, bewildered. “Is Nii-san with… Are you really…” He pushed away from her and looked around at what he was starting to recognize as the burned shell of his home. A cold, cold thread of terror wound through him. “What happened?”

Winry sat back and really looked at him, and frowned. “Al,” she said, slowly, “you’re… How…” Al thought maybe he could see the same cold feeling in her eyes, too. She shook her head and took a breath. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Her expression was determined, and he took some comfort from the familiarity of that. “Nii-san and I got home from studying with Sensei,” he whispered. “We were going to… bring Kaa-san back.” His voice slowed as he looked around again at the burned house and the weirdly grown-up Winry. “Winry,” he asked, careful and distant, “what happened?”

Winry closed her eyes for a long moment and took another breath. “Okay.” She looked at him again. “It’s okay, Al. I think I know what happened. I’ll tell you everything. It’s going to take a while though. All right?”

“Where’s Nii-san?” He tried to keep his voice from shaking.

“I think he’s still in Central City.” Winry ran a hand through her long hair. “That’s part of the taking-awhile part.”

Al swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. Tell me.”

He listened while she talked and the sun rose, listened hard, tucking it all away in his head. And when she was done he was silent for a long time.

“Al?” she said at last, hesitant.

“At least I’m back.” He looked up at her with a small smile. “That’s the important part. I can make more memories; as long as I’m here.”

He had to admit, though, it was extremely embarrassing when Winry grabbed him to hug again. She squished a lot more than she used to.

Two

Pinako-baachan took one look at him and pulled out a large bottle of beer to thump down on the table in front of her. Then she sent Winry to the station with a message to Central, care of as many different people as they both thought might know where Nii-san was, and sat Al down and filled in more details for him. She stared into the speckled brown glass of the bottle all the time she talked about his father. That was one part Al deeply regretted not remembering. Or experiencing. Or whatever. He and Nii-san were going to have to come up with whole new equations to talk about what had happened to him and probably some new technical vocabulary too. The thought steadied him, and he smiled.

When a pretty young woman called Rose arrived, a week later, she brought a baby, a badly injured and wild looking boy, a story, and all of Nii-san’s notes. Al listened to the story, and took the notes, and then went up to the room he’d been given, closing the door silently behind him.

He didn’t come out for a while.

Three

Al traveled to Central City that winter, to meet some more people for the first time again. A man named Mustang received Al from a bed and held very still while they spoke, wincing whenever he had to move his head. In a low voice, he told Al many more details about the lost years with his brother. Another man, named Hughes, insisted that Al stay with him and his wife and daughter, and sprawled over his couch when he talked, and told Al many more details about the first man. Al listened politely, and asked questions softly, and didn’t break until the little girl called him nii-san. Hughes’ wife drove everyone else out of the room and held him quietly until he stopped crying. He managed a small smile just for her, when they saw him off again at the station.

It took another season before he could smile without having to think about it.

Four

Al was reading through Nii-san’s notes again. He almost knew them by heart, now, even the terrifying part about Al being consumed by the Gate, and the strange, sketchy part, clearly written in a hurry, about passing through the Gate. That was at the very end of the stack of notebooks and loose paper, and Al always slowed down when he got to it.

This time he stopped completely and ran his fingertip over the hasty curves and slashes of his brother’s shorthand where it read “gt = psg”. The note for “passage” was underlined twice.

Al sat, staring at the second bed in the room. He had ignored all hints that it might be removed.

Whatever the passage was, it wasn’t only one-way. He was living proof of that. And what Nii-san had done once, perhaps he had done again. The Gate. He had to find out more about the Gate.

He had to find a way to open it.

Al’s mouth firmed into a line that would have been very familiar to anyone used to dealing with his brother. He restacked the notes and walked down the stairs with a steady tread.

“Pinako-obaasan.”

Winry and her grandmother and Rose all turned to look at him. Al took a long breath.

“Would it be all right if I asked Sensei to visit for a little while? There’s something I want to ask her.”

End

Last Modified: Sep 06, 13
Posted: Sep 26, 06
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Compression

Back with his teacher again, Al takes up his studies; this time, though, he already knows some things won’t work. Drama, I-3.

Al wound his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them, looking down at the book open in the grass at his feet. His eye traced one more time over the sketch on the right-hand page. It was an ink sketch, brown with age, but he could see it in his mind’s eye, vibrant and glowing like a prism made of blood.

He dreamed of the color, sometimes, nights when he woke up sweating and threw open the window just to look up at the sky and know the whole world wasn’t red.

The grass rustled behind him and he heard his teacher’s familiar sigh.

“Al…”

He nudged the book with a toe. “It isn’t really what they say it is, is it?” he murmured.

“That depends on what they say it is.”

He smiled at her dry tone. The thought wouldn’t leave him alone, though, and he tightened his arms around his knees. “It doesn’t bypass equivalent exchange at all,” he stated. “It just makes someone else pay the price.”

Her hand rested on his shoulder, her shadow sliding over the open book as she leaned down. “Yes.”

Al’s hands tightened on his own arms until his knuckles were white, and he kicked the book shut. “All of this…” he swallowed and rasped “all of that, all for a battery!”

After a long moment of silence his teacher answered, “Yes.”

Al put his head down on his knees and shuddered. He might not remember anything but the red, but he could imagine. He could imagine five years, and soldiers at war, and cities in rebellion, and traveling with a jar of hope packed into the suitcase next to a bottle of madness, because they needed both just to go on. He could imagine his brother stumping down an endless road, stubborn as the sun, on a metal leg, swinging a metal arm.

He didn’t have to imagine his brother gone.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “Come on,” she said quietly. “Dinner’s ready.”

Al made a protesting sound. She expected him to eat right now?

She shook him briskly upright. “What is the first step of alchemy?”

Al sighed and gave her answer, instead of the book answer. “Acceptance.”

“I don’t know whether I can teach you to accept life, this time,” she told him, “but I can certainly make you accept stew.”

Al snorted. That was Sensei’s philosophy, all right.

More gently she added, “Attend to the moment, Alphonse. This moment is for dinner, not for regret.”

Al looked up at her with a rueful sigh, even as a corner of his mouth tugged up. It really wasn’t fair for one person to be right so often. “Yes, Sensei.” He stood and followed her obediently inside, dropping the book on the hall table as he passed. He’d get back to it later.

Because, whether Sensei approved or not, the one thing he was never going to accept was that his brother was gone for good.

Never.

End

Last Modified: Sep 06, 13
Posted: Sep 27, 06
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Directional Transformation

Roy really likes Ed’s metal hand. Shameless Porn, I-4, continuity free

Character(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Pairing(s): Ed/Roy

"You know," Ed said, thoughtfully, "I bet I could blackmail you with this."

Roy shifted against the bed as Ed’s metal fingers pressed deep into him. "But then we’d have to stop." He laughed, husky. "And you don’t want that any more than I do, right?" He moaned low in his throat as steel opened him up again, hard and cool, and he pushed his hips up and back.

"Oh, so you don’t enjoy it enough to keep doing it anyway?" Ed asked, elaborately innocent, and twisted his fingers deep in Roy’s ass.

"Ahh!" Roy pressed his forehead against the smooth sheets, panting with the rush of heat. "I would regret stopping a very great deal," he murmured, spreading his legs wider.

It was the truth. There was nothing quite as electrifying as the feeling of Ed’s steel fingers pushing into him, fucking him, sleek and hard and nothing like any other touch he’d ever felt.

"Hmmm. Well, that’s nice to hear anyway." Ed’s tone was edging back toward the thoughtful again and his other hand was wandering over the curve of Roy’s ass, stroking behind his balls. Roy grinned, wryly. He’d probably taught Ed how to tease and provoke a little too well for his own good. He answered silkily, breath hitching as Ed’s fingers shifted inside him.

"I should—nnnn—hope so…"

There was a small pat of sound and Roy’s eyes widened as a ferocious tingle rushed down Ed’s fingers and into him, and those fingers shifted.

"Ed!" Roy clutched the bed, panting, as the touch inside him turned smoother, longer, bigger.

Much bigger.

"Ed…" Roy groaned, sprawled limply over the sheets, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of Ed’s hand in his ass—only not quite a hand anymore.

"So?" There was a wicked laugh in Ed’s voice. "What do you think about stopping now?" He drew back the slick, hard shaft and thrust it back into Roy and Roy moaned helplessly. It felt incredible.

"Please don’t stop," he managed, rather hoarse.

"Mm, I won’t then." Ed’s weight shifted on the bed as he settled behind Roy, and Roy breathed a faint sigh of relief that Ed wasn’t going to tease him with this.

Instead Ed fucked him, slow and hard and steady, and Roy lost his breath on a moan with every stroke. The hardness of steel inside him, absolutely unyielding, had always been a strange kind of touchstone—a sort of integrity in bed if nowhere else. Now what he could only think of as a steel cock was filling him, stretching him, working his ass until he was gasping.

And then Ed leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Maybe we should do this in your office sometime. Over your desk. Would you still not want me to stop?"

Roy’s imagination filled in the picture handily—his staff turning to look at the door as his moans echoed through it. Maybe even coming to check what was going on and seeing him lying over his desk with his uniform disarrayed and Ed’s steel pumping deep into his ass. A rough, breathless sound tore out of his throat as pleasure spiked through him and his body wrung itself out around the hard metal inside him.

It took him a while to catch his breath, especially since Ed left his hand inside Roy. When he did, he turned his head to trade a dry look for Ed’s triumphant smirk. "You’ve gotten much too observant."

Ed snorted. "Not like that was a hard one." He leaned into Roy, pressing his mouth to the curve of Roy’s shoulder. "You spend so much time in control. Making sure things work out." He released the transmutation and the jolt of receding energy made Roy gasp. "I know I get tired of doing that, anyway."

Roy smiled lazily and turned, gather Ed closer. "Once I’m recovered from your experiment we’ll have to see what I can do about that, then."

Ed suffered himself to be held. "Still think you’re weird."

"No weirder than someone with a taste for, say, being tied down until he can’t move," Roy murmured.

Ed turned very red.

Roy buried a grin in Ed’s hair, fingers stroking through it. "As soon as I’m recovered a bit," he promised.

 

End

Last Modified: Feb 09, 12
Posted: Feb 08, 08
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Not the Direction of Gravity

Al stumbles over the clue to finding his brother that he was looking for, in a way he didn’t expect. (Continued after a seven year hiatus, I recommend re-reading the first two stories in the arc.) Drama with Angst and Philosophy, I-3


Al

"Alphonse! Get out of this house and take a walk!"

Al looked up from his desk, blinking. "But… I’m studying…"

Sensei put her hands on her hips. "I know. You have bags under your
eyes I could pack for vacation in, and the last time we sparred I wasn’t
even breathing hard." She
pointed a commanding finger at the door. "Out!"

"But…" Al glanced out the window, protests taking on a faint note of
desperation. "It’s about to rain!"

She folded her arms and just loomed. Al sighed and marked his place
with his pencil. "Yes, Sensei. It’ll probably do me good, right?"

Her mouth twitched and she put a hand on his head, half ruffle and half
swat, as he passed her. "And quit stealing my lines."


Al picked an easy path, down by the lakeshore under the trees where the
light rain wouldn’t get him too wet. Sensei was probably right. His
brain felt so full it might spill if he moved too fast, and his thoughts
jostled against each other. He was pretty good at modern alchemical
codes, but he’d been reading much older texts, and if you went back
far enough it was as much philosophy as science and every statement
seemed to mean at least three different things at once. Probably more,
actually, but he had threes on the brain; it was Trismegistus’ fault.
And Salmon’s. Mercury meant spirit meant animal, and where did that get him?

He toed a stone in the path, not kicking it, just rocking it in its bed
of dampening dirt. Now that he was actually outside and didn’t have
a book in his hands, he wanted to do something physical. A swim would
be nice; the sound of the lake’s wavelets against the shore was soothing
and tempting. He held out a hand and watched a few raindrops patter
down onto his palm, thoughtfully.

Well… since he was going to get wet anyway…

Al stripped down to his undershorts and hung his clothes on the branch
of a maple that looked dry underneath. He shivered a little as he waded
in; it wasn’t full summer yet, and the water wasn’t exactly warm. He
was laughing under his breath though. He didn’t act on impulse too
often, usually he had to be the sensible one.

Maybe now he could see why Nii-san spent so much time grinning.

He sighed softly and launched himself out into the water, stroking toward
the huge boulder some glacier had left halfway to the middle of the
lake. He would see his brother again. He would. A few years was nothing;
he could keep looking a lot longer than that. Apparently, he already
had once.

His breath felt like it was filling his lungs all the way up again by
the time he reached the rock. He turned over and rested his head in
a hollow and floated, looking up at the sky under his lashes. The rain
made it look like the sky was coming down to meet him.

Well, after all, the dusty old philosophers and the shiny new scientists both agreed
that all the world was one, in the end.

He wriggled his toes in the water, reminding himself that he wasn’t studying
right now. Maybe it would help divert him if he paid more attention
to sensations. He took a moment to do so and chuckled. It felt very
strange, once he noticed. The rain speckled down on part of him, busy
and distracting, while the rest of him was underwater and barely felt
the occassional current or the passing of a wave.

Come to think of it, his brain felt an awful lot like that. Al let his
eyes drift half shut. Odd that thoughts could have sensation, too.
But there was definitely a much-less-jostling part in there, underneath.

The more he thought about how the quiet part felt, the quieter everything
got. Thoughts drifted instead of jostled. Symbols floated instead of
flickered. The circled dot, for the sun, for the Eye, and for gold,
and that made sense since "gold" meant inclusion. The inside
of a circle. All the stages in one, destruction and creation together
and that was life, wasn’t it? The process of living was alchemy. Everything
became something else from moment to moment, but somehow it was all
still there. That was life.

And life was perfection. Always perfecting everything, refining until
each thing was itself.

Sensei knew that. Al smiled, in the floating stillness, with the
satisfaction of that thought.

Maybe Nii-san did too. Those last lines in his notes: "The Gate
is in every living heart". Living. Yes. And it all connected,
because the circled dot was also the Eye, and Nii-san had drawn the
eye in his first notes about the Gate, hadn’t he?

The simple circled dot in Al’s head gained more lines, a curve above and below,
and a glory radiating around it. It wasn’t sketched anymore, though.

He looked closer.

It was… carved.

He reached out to run his fingers over the texture, which was weirdly
slick and sharp, and another line appeared, running straight down the
middle. He realized that the eye was carved on a slab, and the slab
was really two slabs. It was… a door.

It cracked open.

 

Al jerked and floundered wildly for a moment before he was sure his head
was really above water. He clutched the rock, panting a little while
the adrenaline burn died back to a sizzle in his blood.

Had he just fallen asleep out here? In the water? He was lucky
he hadn’t drowned!

Wait, no, he’d been thinking something. Something big. Al chewed on his
lip, trying to remember, but all he could catch hold of were fragments
of ideas about gold and circles and life. He pounded his fist, lightly,
on the stone, annoyed. "Damn damn damn damn damn!"

Finally he let it go and pulled in a deep, calming breath. He’d have
to try to catch hold of it again tonight, as he was falling asleep,
and hope he could hold on to enough to write it down. For now, he’d
just work off his annoyance by swimming back to shore, and maybe not
mention this to Sensei. If she knew he’d ‘wasted’ his exercise time
thinking, she might get more direct about making sure he got more physical
activity.

Izumi

Izumi scrambled out of bed, ignoring Sig’s grunt as she planted a hand
on his stomach for leverage.

Al had screamed.

She strode down the hall and threw open his door, eyes sweeping the room
for any threat. But there was only Alphonse, bolt upright in bed, eyes
huge and dark and staring at nothing. She came and took his shoulders
gently. "Al? Al, wake up. It’s all right."

She hoped she wasn’t lying.

His hands closed on her arms hard enough to bruise. "Empty,"
he gasped, sounding like he’d been running for miles, and maybe for
his life. "It echoed. Inside me was empty and it echoed!"

Izumi slid further onto the bed and cuddled Al as if he weren’t almost
as tall as she was. As if she could enfold and protect him. Her lips
were pale and tight as she stared over his head into the darkness.
"It’s all right," she murmured again. "You’re here. It’s now. There’s
no echo now, right?"

The desperate tension in him unwound just a little, and he started shaking
against her. "I… yes. I mean, no. I mean…"

"Shhhh." Izumi stroked his hair, sifting her fingers through the springy
strands. She had almost hoped she was wrong about what he meant, but
no such luck. She sighed, resting her cheek against the top of his
head, rocking him a little as the shaking grew worse and the shoulder
of her nightgown started getting wet.

He’d found it. Or it had found him. And in the morning she’d have to
try to figure out how. Try to find some way to keep the idiot boy from diving head-first into the Gate after his stolen memories and
destroying himself with his own brilliance.

Again.

But for tonight they could both pretend that she could protect him, and
that everything would be all right. And if the world could spare them
both just a little kindness, maybe he could sleep out the night safe
in her arms.

End

 

This was written on 9/24/06. Yes, I know. Yes, it took me this long to give in and admit I wasn’t going to finish the arc, and post what I have.

Last Modified: Sep 06, 13
Posted: Sep 06, 13
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Rotation

Al visits home and tells everyone about how his studies are coming, and Rose talks sense to him. Drama, I-3

Al ignored the rattle of the train wheels to scowl over his notebook,
certain at the bottom of his heart that his notes weren’t going to
do him any good. Plenty of people wrote about the Stone, but as far
as he could tell no alchemist, in four hundred years and more, had
written down anything about the Gate. Given his own experiences, he
supposed he couldn’t blame them, but still…! And Sensei must agree
that his books were a dead end, or she wouldn’t have loaded him on
the train for a visit home without a single book to his name except
one volume of poetry he’d bought a year ago and hadn’t opened since.

The whistle announcing the next stop was a welcome interruption. Even
more welcome was the sight of both Rose and Winry waving at him from
the platform.

"Winry!" he called, grabbing his suitcase and jumping down the stairs
as the train slowed. "You got a break too!" He grunted as she more
or less tackled him into the side of the train, and grinned. He was finally as tall as she was.

"Of course I got a break!" She hugged the breath the rest of the way
out of him. "You wrote and said you were coming home to visit, what
else was I going to do?"

She took him by the shoulders and held him off to arm’s length to look
him up and down.

"You look good," they said at the same time. There was a pause
and then laughter, and Al was glad for that, because his observation
had been a bit shyer than hers. Winry was wearing charcoal
overalls, instead of her old light blue ones, and she
looked… older. Which she was, of course, and she’d always been a
little older, but now she was a lot older and…

Well, she looked it.

Rose came to herd them off the platform, laughing softly herself. "Come
on you two, let’s go. I left bread in the oven, and you know Pinako-baachan
won’t remember to take it out if she’s working on that new knee for
Peter."

Al swung his suitcase as they walked, noting the little changes in the
fields by the road, listening to Winry talk about the new alloy mixes
she was experimenting with. It was good to be home. Sensei was great,
but this was home.


He got through dinner and the dishes, which he’d volunteered to help
Rose wash, before Pinako-baachan beckoned him back to the table with
the stem of her pipe. "And how’s your work going these days?" she asked.

Al sat back and looked at his folded hands for a moment. "I’ve made progress
this year," he said at last, quietly.

Rose set the teapot on the table and kicked off her sandals as she sat
down, curling one foot up under her. "You don’t sound very happy about it."

Al drew a finger down the side of his cup. "Sensei is pretty sure I’ve
already made the breakthrough I need. But you couldn’t tell it by me;
as far as I know, all I have is some really strange dreams." He shrugged,
rather uncomfortable with the whole thing. "So, um, don’t worry if
I get kind of… loud when I’m asleep. It’s nothing."

"Al…" Winry frowned. "What kind of dreams?" she asked softly.

Al’s mouth twisted and he took a quick drink to keep her from seeing.
"Well. Sensei thinks I’m actually reaching the Gate when I’m asleep.
That I’m seeing my own memories." He attempted a light tone.
"So I guess I have something back: memories of the dreams, some of them." He winced at the
darkness in Winry’s eyes and groped for a way to get off the topic
of his nightmares. "If the things the Gate takes away include memories,
I can see why there isn’t more written about it, I suppose, but," his
mouth tightened in genuine irritation, fear buried in scholarly ire,
"you’d think scientists would know better! I mean, honestly, it’s the
most basic experimental good sense to keep notes of everything, even
if you don’t know what they might be good for yet." He crossed his
arms and scowled, reminded all over again of just how unproductive
the past months had been.

"So nothing mentions this Gate at all?" Rose asked, curiously.

Al slumped bonelessly over the table, stretching his arms out along
it, comforted by the familiarity of the smooth, battered wood under his hands. "Nope." He sighed, drawing
concentric circles on the wood with a fingertip. "The only books
that mention anything like it are old Ishvarite philosophy texts, and
they’re not about alchemy." He frowned and tapped his finger. "I’m
not really sure what they are about, actually. Just that it’s definitely
not science."

"Well, you could ask the Ishvarites," Rose pointed out.

Al opened his mouth and then stopped with his jaw hanging there until
Winry tapped him on the head. "Al? You still in there? A bug’s going
to fly into your mouth, you know."

He closed his mouth, pausing only to stick out his tongue at her for
old times’ sake. "Rose-san, you’re brilliant!" He chewed on his lip,
and muttered, "Only the Ishvarites never talk to alchemists, I wonder
how I can get them to…"

"You’re not asking about alchemy," Rose stated. "You said it yourself;
you’re asking about philosophy." She smiled at him. "You and Winry
are just alike, you know. Always so focused on the practical. Sometimes
you forget to look up."

She looked up, herself, as laughter and excited barking drifted in the
window. Al thought her little Christopher was probably playing with
the new dog Al had helped Winry pick out two years ago; Den sounded
a lot gruffer than that, these days, and was too stiff to run around with a young boy. Rose’s mouth tilted. "Sometimes
the problem isn’t what you think it is," she said quietly. "You
don’t want to miss the moment it turns into something else, just because you
were concentrating too hard on what it used to be."

Al thought maybe she wasn’t talking about alchemy or the Gate any longer.
But the tightness in Pinako-baachan’s face indicated that might
not be the best thing to point out right now. "I’ll try not to," he
promised.

Rose shook herself. "Well, good then!" She poured Al another cup of tea and smiled at Winry. "Any problems you have that I should solve while I’m at it?"

Winry laughed. "I’ve gotten better! I haven’t even forgotten to eat because I’m working more than once in the last couple months." She paused. "Well, maybe twice." Another, slightly fidgety pause. "Definitely not more than three times!"

Al relaxed in the warmth and laughter of the kitchen, and the thought that he might have a way forward again.

End

Last Modified: Mar 30, 14
Posted: Sep 15, 13
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The Simple and the Subtle – Chapter One

Al goes to Ishvar, searching for answers. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Alphonse Elric, Amos, Scar

Al stood by a low fountain, hands opening and closing around the handle
of his suitcase. It was baking hot under the afternoon sun, even though it was autumn elsewhere in the country, but he
made no move for the shade of the wide porch across the square. There
had been too many doubtful or questioning looks directed at him as
he crossed the city, and he wanted to start off on the right foot,
here; his eyes searched through the knots of people sitting among the
pillars, looking for a face that seemed receptive or curious or welcoming.
Unfortunately, everyone seemed very wrapped up in whatever they were
discussing, in some cases quite loudly and with vigorous gestures.

Al sighed. Getting to New Ishvar had been simple. Finding the temple
had been even easier; it was the tallest building in the city and by
far the most finished-looking one. The next step was proving a little
harder.

"You can drink from the fountain, if you like, young man."

Al turned to see a comfortably plump woman smiling at him, offering a tin cup of water.

"You look like you’ve just gotten here," she added.

"Yes, ma’am." Actually, water sounded really good now that someone mentioned it. Al took the cup with a bob of thanks and sighed with pleasure as he washed the grit out of his throat. "Thank you very much."

"We don’t get many travelers," she observed to the water as she went back to filling a large jug.

"I was hoping to speak to some of your scholars." Al felt deeply self-conscious, now that he actually came to say it. "They, um, all seem to be very busy, though."

The woman laughed. "Ah, half the men up there are just arguing for the fun of it." She set her full jug down in the shadow of the fountain and beckoned. "Come along, I’ll show you to someone who can actually help."

"Oh. That’s very kind; thank you again." Al trailed behind her, surprised.

She tossed a wry grin over her shoulder. "I think anyone who comes to learn instead of shoot should be encouraged."

Al flushed. "Ah. Yes." How did you answer something like that?

She led him between the knots of gesticulating debaters and finally tapped the shoulder of a square, strong looking old man. "Sensei, you have a visitor."

The man looked up from the group of boys he’d been speaking to, smiling. "A visitor? How unusual. Thank you, Nahal." He waved to the boys, who scattered looking cheerful; Al suspected he’d just interrupted lessons of some kind. The old man nodded to him courteously as the woman shook her head and went after some of the children. "And how can we help…" He trailed off and frowned. "You…?"

"My name is Alphonse Elric." Al hesitated as the man’s eyes widened. "I… may have met you before sir. I don’t remember that time, though. Please excuse me."

"Hm. Well, you certainly look rather different than I remember." The man waved to one of the benches beside him. "I take it," he said quietly, as Al sat, "that your brother succeeded in healing you."

That was actually a very good way to put it, Al thought. "Yes, sir. He gave all of himself to do it, though, and…" Al’s hands tightened on each other, "now I’m trying to find where he’s gone."

"Where he’s gone?" the man prompted softly.

"He isn’t dead," Al told his hands. "I’d know if he were dead."

"You must know, Elric-kun, that we do not teach or learn the old Art." The man’s voice was kind but utterly inflexible.

"I know." Al looked up, meeting his eyes. "I don’t think it’s the Art I need to learn. There’s…" He took a deep breath. "There’s a Gate. It’s spoken of in some of the old books of your people, and nowhere else I’ve found. I’ve passed that Gate. Twice. But I don’t remember it."

The man sat back, looking startled. "Twice?" He examined Al in silence for a long moment and finally said, "I think you had better tell me the whole story, Elric-kun. If you can."

Al’s mouth quirked. This should be interesting. "Well, I suppose it starts from the fact that my brother and I inherited our father’s gift for alchemy…"

Dusk fell while he spoke, blue shadows sliding over the sand and stone.

"…so I came here, hoping I could learn more about what happened. Maybe enough to find the Gate when I’m awake and find my brother through it."

Al turned one hand palm up and waited as calmly as he could for his answer.

"If he has passed through the place you speak of, I do not know if it will be possible to call him back. He was not bound to this world, as you were by the blood seal." The old man stood. "Nevertheless, you have come to us honestly, to share learning. As long as that honesty does not fail, you are welcome to learn what you may."

Al let out the breath he’d been holding. "Thank you, sir."

The man’s teeth flashed in a smile. "My name is Amos. And now, we have to find some place for you to stay." He chuckled. "I’m sure Leo and Rick will be happy to see you again, but Maria has her hands full looking after them; lodging you there might not be the kindest thing to her."

"I don’t want to make any trouble," Al said, hastily, already imagining the look this Maria would give him. "Of course, I’ll do my best to help out wherever I stay, but I can stay outside of town, too, if that would be easier." After Sensei’s ideas of training, camping in the nice, calm desert would feel like a vacation.

"Hm. No, no I think I have a better idea. Come along." Whatever he had thought of put a glint in Amos-san’s eye, Al saw as they passed into the lamplight spilling past the temple doors. Al braced himself and followed along as Amos-san led him out into the city.

The buildings got less and less finished as they went until, at the edge of the city-in-progress, they were mostly wood and stone frames with tent canvas for walls. Amos-san finally stopped at one and rapped on the frame beside a drawn door-curtain.

"Gil! Are you in?"

The man who drew the curtain aside was even bigger and more solid-looking than Amos-san. He had a young face though, as far as Al could make out past the old scarring over most of it. "Shifu? What can I…?" He trailed off as his eyes fell on Al and widened.

Al tried not to sigh, and got ready to repeat the pertinent parts of his story. Again. He got very tired of explaining why he didn’t remember people.

"Gil, this is Alphonse Elric. I believe you’ve met." Amos-san sounded just a little too bland, and Al glanced at him with some suspicion.

"Alphonse?" The man, Gil-san, stepped forward, frankly staring. "You’re alive," he finally whispered.

Al paused. He didn’t remember the name Gil, but it sounded like this man knew a great deal about him. "Yes," he said, finally, and borrowed Amos-san’s words for the rest. "My brother healed me."

If anything, Gil-san’s eyes got wider.

"He’s come seeking a different kind of learning than the last time the Elrics visited us," Amos-san said, quite calm. "I think it would be best if he stayed with you, while he’s here."

There was some kind of protest in Gil-san’s expression as he turned to Amos-san, but it died as their eyes met. Finally Gil-san dropped his gaze and nodded.

"Excellent. I’m sure the two of you can help each other." Amos-san patted Al’s shoulder and turned back toward the center of the city.

Al didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he was sure that Amos-san was doing something for someone’s own good. He’d sounded far too much like Sensei at the end, there, not to be. "I don’t want to impose, Gil-san," he said, cautiously.

Gil-san snorted a little at that. "I’m sure you don’t." He shook himself and held the door-curtain aside. "You might as well come in."

The house was bare and simple; interior walls were half built or only marked out and the furniture was makeshift. Al was reminded of his thought about camping in the desert, and smiled.

"You are welcome," Gil-san told him, waving a rather sardonic hand at the crates and bed-rolls. "If you really want to be."

First things first, Al decided, firmly. "Gil-san, I’m afraid I don’t remember the years I traveled with my brother. It’s clear we met you, but, I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you at all."

Gil-san stopped by the scuffed table, looking at him for a long few breaths with unreadable eyes. Finally he nodded. "Only your life could buy your life." Al blinked at this succinct summing up of the price he’d paid as Gil-san turned away and rummaged in a flat chest, coming up with an extra bed roll. "There’s space in the bedroom; sharing shouldn’t be a problem."

Al was a bit bewildered by how Gil-san knew what had happened to him, and how simply he’d accepted it. Maybe a good night’s sleep would make it all make more sense. "Thank you, then." He bit his lip and added, "If, ah, I seem to be having strange dreams, please don’t be concerned. It… happens lately."

Gil-san’s hands paused for a moment, spreading out the bedding. "I see."

Al was starting to suspect that Gil-san did see, and he wasn’t sure whether that comforted or alarmed him.


"I’m sorry if I, um, miss anything," Al said the next morning as he cut bread for Gil to toast. "I’m afraid I didn’t recognize your name."

"I’m not surprised."

Al sighed. This was the third time he’d tried to imply that it would nice if Gil-san said how they’d met and none of them had gotten anywhere. He had a bad feeling it had been in Lior, where an Ishvarite could probably go unnoticed, and that had sounded like it had been a very bad time, when Winry and Rose told him about it. He didn’t want to push harder. Amos-san wouldn’t have brought him here if there had been problems between them, right?

Al would have felt better believing that if Amos-san’s smile had been even a little bit less like Sensei’s.

Al put the worry aside as well as he could, though, and set off for his first day of new research. Amos-san had said Al should look for someone named Alec.

"A gate, hm?" Alec-san turned out to be an old man with brushy gray hair and long hands and extremely sharp eyes. "A number of things have been called that." Alec-san paged through a book pulled down without looking from the shelves surrounding them. "Hm, yes. Human transmutation. Life and death, that. Does this look familiar?"

He held out the book, open to a sketch: an eye made up of eleven concentric circles. Chills slid down Al’s spine and he nodded positively. "Yes." He wasn’t sure where he’d seen it, but he recognized it. Which was fairly good evidence right there.

"Hmm." Alec-san set the book aside and leaned back. "The Gate before the Crown. That’s what our scholars and teachers have called the thing you seek after."

"Before the Crown?" Al asked, slowly. That was new.

Alec-san gave him a wintery smile. "Divinity, young man. The sum of all that is. That is the Crown."

Al’s eyes widened. "Oh."

"So it’s not surprising if you don’t remember it," Alec-san added, a bit breezily Al thought. "I doubt it’s possible to reach the Crown and remain your limited, mortal self. The Gate, though…" He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "That I suppose you might do. It will be interesting to see."

Al nodded politely and tried not to feel like a lab animal.

Alec-san pulled down another book. "Start with this. You’ll need to understand the concepts of the eleven realms and how they’re connected, if you want to understand what the Gate is. Don’t take it out of the library, here, we don’t have copies of any of these yet."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Al settled in one of the other chairs and opened the book, determined to make as much as possible of his opportunity. He had one end of the thread, now, and that meant he could unravel the whole picture if he just worked hard enough. He’d follow that thread all the way to his memory and his brother, and be damned to anything that got in his way.

Behind him, Alec-san made an amused little hmph. "Two of a kind, you are, you and that boy. Amos got that right."

That nudged at Al’s attention, but he was already into his note-taking and what Amos-san had gotten right would have to wait for another time.

 

Poetic license has been taken with the Kabbala and the Tree of Life, in order to fit the Gate in there. Amos is the name I have given to Scar’s unnamed mentor. Alec and Nahal, though, are my own invention.

Last Modified: Mar 30, 14
Posted: Mar 30, 14
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The Simple and the Subtle – Chapter Two

Gil does his best to make restitution and finds himself being drawn out by Al. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Alphonse Elric, Amos, Scar

Gil had not been surprised when Alphonse mentioned nightmares. The boy had died, been hauled back by his heels and bound to a suit of armor, tramped all over the country running after the false hope of the Stone, been transmuted into the Stone, and finally sacrificed those years of love and effort to be returned to true life. Nightmares were surely to be expected. He hadn’t quite expected his new houseguest to start up in the middle of the night, screaming, though.

He certainly hadn’t expected it to happen every night.

That wasn’t quite true, of course. Two nights, even three, in a week, Alphonse slept quietly. The others, well Gil was twice over glad he had no near neighbors here at the edge of the city and that doors and windows were shuttered tight now winter was on them.

He did wonder, once or twice, whether his teacher had known about this, and thought it proper for Gil to deal with.

Either way, it was fair enough resititution for the part he’d played. He leaned up on one arm, half awake, to reach across the space between their makeshift beds and shake Alphonse’s shoulder as he started to thrash around. Alphonse came awake with a harsh gasp, eyes wide and staring before he fell back against his blankets.

"Ah. Gil-san. Sorry."

"Mm, don’t worry," Gil mumbled, settling back into sleep already.

He barely remembered it in the morning, until Alphonse looked up from staring into his tea. "It really seems like there should be two circles on the Gate, not eleven."

It must, Gil decided, have been a dream of the Gate itself, last night, then, for Alphonse to break into philosophy at the breakfast table. Usually he waited and beleaguered the older men at the temple, in the evening.

Still, he probably owed Alphonse this help too. "Why?" he prodded.

"Well it’s only one step away from this world; there don’t seem to be any others in between."

Gil considered that while Alphonse wolfed down his toast. "I don’t think distance to divinity works in a straight line like that."

"Oh." Alphonse blinked and laughed a bit self-consciously. "Of course." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "I suppose I’ve been drawing arrays for too long; it’s hard to shake the habit of geometry."

"Most habits are hard to shake," Gil agreed quietly. The habit of revenge; the habit of wrongheadedness; the habit of solitude; they were all hard to shake.

Though Alphonse was making an impression on that last one, and Gil suspected that had been his teacher’s real purpose in lodging Alphonse here.

"Well, I can think about that more later," Alphonse said with that alarming determination of his, draining his tea. "What is there to do today?"

"Walls. There’s a new load of stone in."

Alphonse brightened, and Gil raised a brow at this rather odd response to the prospect of hauling stone blocks in the desert sun and stingingly dry winter air. "Good! I think the house frame is cracking in the east corner, I heard it last night, and I knew you wouldn’t want me to strengthen it."

"Thank you," Gil muttered, surprised all over again by Alphonse’s restraint; he hadn’t used a single flicker of alchemy since he’d come to New Ishvar. Of course, Gil probably shouldn’t be surprised. Alphonse had never had his brother’s brash edge.

Or, at least, didn’t have it in the same way.

As they walked through the outskirts to collect the first pallet of cut stone, Gil watched smiles come out everywhere in answer to Alphonse’s.

"Al-kun, you’ll come play with Rick and Leo later won’t you?"

"Alphonse-kun, I’ll have that book for you tonight!"

"Al, you and Gil will stop with us for dinner, won’t you?"

"If Gil-san agrees," Alphonse returned, laughing. Gil snorted softly.

"You can go without me."

"Yes, but Eli-san invited both of us," Alphonse told him, firm and scolding. "You should accept more often, Gil-san."

Gil’s mouth tightened. "I have no right."

Alphonse stopped in the middle of the street-to-be with his hands on his hips and glared. "Why not?"

Gil glowered down at his houseguest, though it never seemed to have quite the effect on Alphonse that it did on anyone else. "The price for what I have done is exile. I knew that from the start. I will pay it," he bit out.

"Even when no one is asking you to?"

"Some things aren’t required by other people."

"No, they’re just required by your stubbornness," Alphonse snapped, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "Gil-san–"

"Enough."

After a moment Alphonse sighed. "We should fetch the stone."

Gil nodded agreement to that, at least, and ignored Al’s muttering about how well the blocks would match certain heads. He was starting to wonder whether Alphonse had gotten this way because of Edward or whether Edward had gotten that way because of Alphonse.

It was two loads later before Alphonse said anything that wasn’t to do with hauling and stacking.

"Gil-san, may I ask you something?"

Gil made a noncommital grunt, hoping Alphonse wasn’t going to badger him more about dinner invitations.

"Will you tell me how I met you?" Alphonse looked up as Gil’s hands froze over the mortar he was mixing. "You know so much about me, but I don’t even remember your name from the things people have told me about those years."

Gil could feel his jaw tightening.

"How did we meet, that you don’t want to tell me?" Al asked quietly.

Gil bowed his head over his hands. Alphonse had left off asking for so long, he’d hoped to not be asked at all. He should have known better. Sooner or later, it would have to be said. Gil took a slow breath. "You didn’t know my name, then," he said, voice low. "You called me Scar."

The broken beam Alphonse had been using to lever the stones up clattered to the ground. His eyes were wide, when Gil looked up. A flicker of dark amusement tugged the corner of Gil’s mouth up. "I suppose that transmutation gave both of us our lives back. I don’t know that it did either of us a favor." He looked away, not wanting to watch the shock in Alphonse’s face any more. "You’ve done more than enough work here, Alphonse," he gestured at the half-laid walls, mouth twisting with the double edge of his words, "if you want to go think for a while."

"I… I’ll… yes, for a while." Alphonse tidied his tools with a blank stare that didn’t see them, and walked away toward the temple, steps slow and halting.

Gil rested his forehead against a stone, eyes closed. He’d thought he already knew where he stood with the world. He hadn’t thought it would hurt so much to see that shock in someone’s eyes–to know it would unfold into fear or disgust.

It was only, he told himself sternly, what he should expect; it flowed naturally from his own actions and choices.

When he had made those choices, it hadn’t seemed like such a high price as it did now.

It didn’t take long before Amos showed up.

Gil’s shoulders tightened, but his teacher only picked up the lever Al had dropped and helped to lay the last row of stone. It wasn’t until Gil had poured them both a drink of water that Amos spoke.

"Well, it doesn’t seem that you think Al-kun’s life is unclean."

Gil flinched. "Of course it isn’t," he muttered. "He isn’t one of us, to live by our laws. Besides, his brother chose freely to make that sacrifice for him." Unlike the men Gil had killed to form the Stone. Not that he felt sorry for those soldiers, he thought stubbornly; they’d made their choices too. But the fact remained. "Alphonse wasn’t the one who killed and used the lives to live."

Amos took a drink and leaned back against Gil’s new wall thoughtfully. "No, he didn’t. Instead he took those lives and used them to bring his brother back from death." He tipped his head at Gil. "You still don’t think that was wrong?"

"It…" Gil’s thoughts stumbled. "The killing was already done," he said at last.

His teacher’s silence was eloquent of the inadequacy of this answer.

"At least those lives and deaths meant something in the end!" Gil finally burst out. "At least they did something worthwhile!"

Amos smiled at him. "So they did."

Gil’s eyes widened. "But I’m… I’m not…" Not worthwhile, not worthy.

His teacher patted his shoulder, heaving himself to his feet. "Well, perhaps I’ll give young Al a bit longer to work on it, then."

As Gil watched Amos walk back into the city he thought about the enthusiasm with which Alphonse threw himself into rebuilding Ishvar and the raw determination of his search for answers among the books of old and new learning and the stubbornness he already showed in trying to draw Gil out. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that his teacher had a ruthless streak.


It was late when Alphonse came back, and Gil watched his face warily, in the lamplight.

Al just smiled and set two loaves of bread and a travel-bruised pomegranate on the table. "We’re running out of bread so I stopped at Sarah-san’s. She said to take the fruit, too."

"That was kind of her." Gil fetched cups of water for them, waiting for the rest of it. He was sure there was more.

"Gil-san," Alphonse said, softly, as he peeled the pomegranate, "will you tell me what happened?" He looked up, honey-colored eyes dark. "No one else was there."

And so no one else could tell it. No one else could explain the dreams, if Alphonse had dreamed about it. Gil set down his bread; he doubted he’d be able to eat through this. "I had planned to lure soldiers into Lior and create the Stone with their lives. For the sake of all the citizens who had been killed, the people of Lior were willing to let me do it. You and your brother stumbled into the middle of it, though. You and one other. The Alchemist who did this," he gestured to the scar across his face, "and you were too close. When he tried to kill you, by transforming you and breaking your blood seal… I made you the focus of the Stone’s creation instead, to preserve you."

He watched Alphonse’s fingers, breaking the pomegranate seeds into smaller and smaller clusters, as he spoke. He didn’t want to watch Al’s face, and perhaps that was more cowardice, but he didn’t think he could finish if he was looking Alphonse in the eye. Alphonse’s eyes were far too expressive.

"After it was done," he finished, "I was left with a whole body and the empty desert and nothing else. I…" his hands clasped hard around his cup, "I had thought to make the Stone for revenge; to carry out a destiny. But it seemed to me, then, that whatever there was of my old destiny had passed to you." He was silent for a moment before adding, voice low, "It was then that I realized how heavy I had made it. I’m sorry."

"Yes. So am I. But I’m glad, too."

Gil finally looked up from Alphonse’s fingers, stained a little red with the seeds’ juice, to see his housemate looking reflective and not shocked or disgusted at all.

"I wish those soldiers hadn’t died," Alphonse said, softly. "But you saved my life. And what you did saved my brother’s life, too. And I can’t help being glad for that." Alphonse looked directly at Gil and smiled, eyes clear. "I wish you hadn’t. Thank you, Gil-san."

Gil felt himself settle into stillness with those words. It was not forgiveness Alphonse offered. It was more real than that. "So do I," he said, quietly. "And you’re welcome." His own sincerity surprised him.

Alphonse pushed a wooden plate with half the pomegranate seeds on it across the table. "I suppose I should tell you what came next. I only really know it from what other people have said, but I know Nii-san and I ran for it."

Gil listened and ate the sweet, crunchy seeds one by one. It was late by the time Al finished, and Gil felt tired–more than tired, wrung out.

He also felt more at peace than he had for a long time.

He turned over new thoughts, as they cleaned up. "You and your brother succeeded in your search, last time," he said, finally. "But the cost was one I think you wouldn’t pay again."

Alphonse nodded firmly as he swept away the fresh stone chips in the bedroom and unrolled his bed. "The Stone isn’t the right way. I know that, at least."

"Knowledge might be, though," Gil offered, knowing that he would once have denounced any outsider seeking the old knowledge of his people. "You are… welcome here for as long as you search." He started to unroll his own bedding and hesitated. He’d long since moved his bed across the room, next to Alphonse’s, the easier to wake him from nightmares.

Alphonse smiled up at him, smoothing his bedroll, and it struck Gil that that was what he had wanted, why he had spoken: to see Alphonse’s hope, undamaged. That hope seemed… very important. "Thank you for that, too, Gil-san." Alphonse helped unroll Gil’s bedding the rest of the way and patted it briskly into place beside his.

Gil lay down silently, accepting Alphonse’s wordless assurance that it was well.

He was surprised to wake the next morning from a sleep unbroken by nightmares. He had expected telling over some of the ugliest parts of Alphonse’s lost past to call to those memories.

Then again, perhaps it had. Alphonse slept quietly, but his arms were wrapped tightly around one of Gil’s and he refused to let go. After a few gentle tugs, Gil gave in and turned on his side to settle Alphonse against him more comfortably until the boy woke. His mouth tugged up helplessly into a faint smile as Alphonse relaxed with a sigh and moved closer.

Gil lay and watched the light grow slowly outside the window, thinking back to another life when his older brother had read him to sleep on stormy nights and stayed with him, safe and warm.

He was smiling for real by the time Al woke and stared at him with wonder in the morning sun.

 

A/N: Those who are wondering how on earth Scar can be here should read Long Enough.

Last Modified: Mar 30, 14
Posted: Mar 30, 14
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The Simple and the Subtle – Chapter Three

Al settles into closer company with Gil and, as the year draws on, finds the key he needs—if he can use it. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Alphonse Elric, Scar

Al mentioned Gil-san’s thought, about divine geometry being very different than regular geometry, to Amos-san. Amos-san chuckled.

"Oh yes. Gil has a good instinct for these things. It’s a loss to us all that he probably won’t ever go on in his studies and join us here." His wave took in the whole temple, not just the corner of the porch that he and Al sat in.

"Mm." Al sighed a little. He thought it was a waste, too. They both had new lives; Gil-san should do something with his.

Nahal-san told him, while they screwed together pipes to plumb her sink, that Gil-san never stayed in the houses he built.

"Whenever he finishes one he gives it to some couple or family and moves out again, like he’s chasing the edge of the city," she said, grunting as she tightened down an elbow. "Here, hand me that long bit. It’s a crying shame. No one blames the boy for being a little off his head after what happened at the old city." She sighed, gazing down at the pipes scattered in the summer dust around them and, if Al was any judge, not seeing them at all. "I suppose that won’t be any good until he stops blaming himself."

Al hoped it would happen; he thought it would. Gil-san had been kind of scary, or at least it sounded like he had in all the accounts, but he’d also saved Al’s life and he’d been kind here and now.

Al was sleeping a lot better, now.


Al scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "Why is the same thing drawn different ways?" he muttered to himself. Even after almost a year studying, he still found many of these things peculiar.

"So that we remember to look at the truth from more than one perspective," Alec-san said briskly from behind him.

Al jumped a bit. "Ah. Well, yes, I suppose so…"

Alec-san waved a hand. "You must remember, Alphonse-kun, all these drawings and descriptions are only metaphors. We can only see as much of the greater truth as our souls are prepared to see. If we could see it as it is…" his wintry smile flashed, "well, then we’d be one with divinity, yes?"

Al thought about that. "So, you’re saying that everything I’ve seen is… not really real?"

Alec-san snorted. "Of course it’s really real. It just isn’t complete."

Al frowned, puzzling through this new thought. "So it’s more like a… a parable."

"Exactly." Alec-san looked pleased.

"So why do different people see the same thing?" Al shot back.

Alec-san’s smile grew. "Because, Alphonse-kun, you aren’t the only one involved. What you see is telling the story along with you."

Al shivered. The idea that the Gate was talking to him unnerved him. He might only be able to remember dreams of memories, and almost nothing of the Gate itself, but he remembered fear.

Fear.

He frowned down at the sheaf of papers in front of him, the delicately colored and carefully labeled concentric circles and the dissertation below on their interrelations. "All these accounts and explanations… they all talk about joy," he murmured.

"Of course." Alec-san blew on a carefully copied page to dry it and pulled up a fresh sheet of paper, turning to the next page. "They speak of the pathways to completion, to perfection, if you will."

Al frowned some more, tapping his pencil against his chin. If that was so, then why was it only fear that he remembered?


"Not everyone studies that branch," Gil-san pointed out around a mouthful of nails as he attached the back to a new chair and Al cut up a handful of tiny potatos for dinner. "Even of those, not many seem to see this Gate. Perhaps you have to be prepared properly for it."

Al made a rueful face. "I guess we were about as unprepared as two people could get."

"It was irresponsible to allow children access to such learning," Gil-san growled.

Al’s mouth quirked. "So you mean Amos-san and Alec-san are being irresponsible now?" he teased. Gil-san glowered at him, but Al was learning that he did that regardless, and it didn’t always mean Gil-san was angry.

"You are not a child, Alphonse."

Al’s brows rose at that and Gil-san looked back down at the chair.

"Whether you remember them or not, those years left a mark on you," he said, quietly. "You were a child when I first met you. You are not, now."

Al scraped the potatos into their pan and watched them start to sizzle. "I suppose not," he murmured. It was, in a way, a sad thought. But he also found himself sneakingly pleased that Gil-san thought so.


Al went to sleep thinking of joy and memory and his dreams started out more softly than usual. He was running through grass with his brother and Winry. He was arguing with his brother over cheating at cards. He was playing marbles with a little girl and if, in the dream, his hands were metal, she still smiled at him and crowed with happy triumph over her small, glassy winnings.

Joy.

Wholeness.

A part of him thought the words and then he was standing in a galleried ballroom, filled with light and fire, and a feeling of perfect calm. His brother’s body was at his feet and he knew that Nii-san was dead. That didn’t change the calm. The part of him that knew this was a dream clung to that perfectly balanced heart with wonder, burying himself in it.

The Eye flashed before him and doors opened. There was darkness beyond it, and light, and things Al couldn’t name. He stepped past the doors and held out his hands.

"Nii-san!"

His voice echoed and re-echoed and tiny, dark hands unreeled, reaching back in answer.

Knowing it was a dream, Al still flinched, afraid.

Within the dream, Al brushed the hands away, calm, and they recoiled.

His brother’s hands clasped his and Al felt himself unravelling, the power of his body spooling away and leaving only…

Him.

And he started, slowly, to walk beyond the Gate, beyond the hands and mocking, angry voices, towards the things without name.

"Haaah!"

Al’s eyes were wide open on darkness and there was a warm arm around him.

"Alphonse!"

Al dropped back down to his bedroll as if all the strings of his muscles had been cut at once. "I… I’m okay." He was shaking.

Gil-san didn’t comment, only rubbed Al’s back quietly while he caught his breath. Al pressed his forehead against Gil-san’s chest, grateful beyond words for the solidity of him.

"I remember," he whispered. "Something in the Gate. Something to be afraid of. But I wasn’t afraid. And past that…" he frowned, puzzled. "I don’t know what it was."

Gil-san’s voice rumbled in his chest. "Beyond the Gate is the Crown, isn’t it?"

Al stilled. "Oh." He could almost hear the click of thoughts coming together. "The Gate before the Crown," he whispered, eye wide for a different reason this time. "Peace. Joy. That… that balance. That’s the Crown. What’s at the Gate…" He sat up, catching Gil-san’s shoulders in his excitement. "What’s always in the Gate, what stays in the Gate, that must be separate! Of course!"

Gil-san eyed him thoughtfully. "As souls pass the Gate," he murmured, "perhaps some things must be left behind before we can go on."

"Everything that isn’t ready for that oneness, yes, of course!" Al nearly bounced. "It makes sense now!" He paused. "What?"

Gil-san’s eyes were gleaming in the dimness and a corner of his mouth twitched. "Did you wake up your brother, often, to discuss philosophy in the middle of the night?" he asked.

Al cleared his throat, flushing. "Ah. Sorry." He settled himself back down on his bedroll. After a moment he muttered, "Actually, yes."

Gil-san hmph-ed and a large hand ruffled Al’s hair a little before withdrawing. "I’m not surprised."

Al smiled shyly and snuck a little closer into Gil-san’s warmth before closing his eyes again.


"Hm. Interesting." Alec-san scratched his chin with the end of his pen, looking up at the ceiling. "I can only speculate, you understand, not having experienced these things myself."

Al made an encouraging sound, impatient, for once, with Alec-san’s pedantic precision. He got one of Alec-san’s small, frosty smiles for his pains.

"I would speculate, based on what you have told me, that these creatures in the Gate are indeed the remnants of souls that have passed through and beyond. Echos, if you will. Being without form or soul, being only scraps of will, of course they would be hungry for both body and spirit, if they find one they can reach. Living, presumably, rather than dead and passing beyond."

"Then," Al said slowly, "they don’t really have anything to do with the transmutation process at all. Or with passing the Gate to other worlds."

"Never having witnessed it, I can’t say. But the hypothesis does match your experiences." Alec folded his hands and regarded Al sharply over his knuckles. "The price you pay for transmutation, in strength or life, is one thing. But if these things truly are the will that returns in a homunculus, and if the homunculi are incapable of alchemy, then it follows that the bargain these creatures made with your brother to release your soul once they had captured you was their own and apart from alchemy as it is known to our world. They were likely," Alec-san conluded, "merely taking what they could get from children strong enough to open the Gate but not to guard themselves properly from what lies within it."

Al closed his eyes and took a slow breath for calm agains his sudden anger. "It does make sense," he said, low and even.

After a long moment Alec-san added, "As the Crown is perfect oneness, it also makes sense that the Gate is the point at which all worlds touch and join. How a living, embodied soul that does not seek the Crown can pass the Gate and move between with impunity, without falling prey to these creatures is a question we have not yet answered." His eyes sharpened still more. "Will you keep looking for it?"

Al’s chin came up. "Of course."

Alec-san’s smile was amused and, briefly, affectionate, and Al ducked his head, abashed.

"Well. After all, my dream might have given me a clue."

Alec-san raised his brows and made interested noises.

"In my dream," Al said, softly, looking up at the sunlight streaming in the skylight, "I wasn’t afraid."

Last Modified: Mar 30, 14
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The Simple and the Subtle – Chapter Four

Gil assists Al and has a bit of an epiphany, and finds some peace with his past. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Alphonse Elric, Scar

Gil wasn’t entirely surprised when Al came to him and asked for help. That didn’t mean he didn’t have misgivings.

"Are you sure Shifu wouldn’t be a better choice?"

Alphonse looked stubborn. "I need to not be afraid. If I’m afraid of the Gate, I’ll just keep running away from it and forgetting and I’ll never be able to find Nii-san through it." The stubbornness shifted into the earnest entreaty Gil was far more wary of. He had fewer defenses against it. "Please, Gil-san. I do think it should be you."

Gil stifled a sigh. He wasn’t at all sure he was ready for the burden of that trust, but if it was laid on him already he couldn’t bring himself to break it. "Very well."

And so he found himself sitting beside Alphonse’s bedroll in the middle of the day, one of Al’s hands clasped in his, while his young friend sought, by all accounts, creatures that would happily devour his body and soul.

He hoped this would be enough to give Alphonse the courage he needed.

Gradually Alphonse’s breathing slowed and evened. His eyes stopped flickering under his lids. Gil watched the sunlight creep across the floor and waited, sinking himself in the patience he had once employed to hunt and kill. He thought this was a better use for it.

Abruptly, Al’s hand tightened on his. Gil leaned forward, intent, frowning, carefully tightening his grip in return. Alphonse’s eyes were moving again, now. When his breath stumbled Gil couldn’t keep from resting a light hand on his hair and speaking in a bare whisper. "Alphonse. I’m here."

Al should know that, whatever he faced, he was not alone. Gil knew too well how that felt to leave someone he knew lost in it.

Alphonse’s grip on Gil’s hand firmed and he drew in a long breath.

It wasn’t long after that he relaxed, bit by bit, and his eyes opened, dark and dazed. Gil brushed light, flyaway hair back out of them and waited.

Finally Alphonse looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you." The smile grew wider, gained a triumphant edge. "It worked! I found it and I remember!"

Gil smiled back. "I’m glad."

Al hauled himself up off the bed, wobbling just a little, and rummaged for his notebooks, muttering to himself as he scribbled and chewing the end of his pencil. Gil stood and went to see about some dinner. He was hungry and he’d only watched.

As he pulled out bread and onion to cut, he found that he was still smiling.


Gil couldn’t deny that he was very impressed by Alphonse Elric. Days turned to weeks and still Alphonse burned with the light of his discoveries, focused and intent. Gil often had to remind his housemate to take a break to eat.

And even in the midst of his ferocious research, Alphonse turned a hand willingly to the neverending chores of building New Ishvar. He sawed wood and laid pipes, helped paint and mortar, heaved blocks cheerfully. The house they stayed in was finished, and Gil wondered if he shouldn’t move on as usual. But somehow he didn’t want to disturb Alphonse, didn’t want to dislocate him when he seemed so close to finding what he needed.

Didn’t want to leave him behind either.

So he stayed and soothed his vague discomfort over it by going out to work on newly laid foundations each day. Many days Al came with him, and if Alphonse banged his thumb every now and then when he was thinking too much about his latest reading and not enough about where the nail was, most of the citypeople were indulgent. By now everyone knew of the outsider who had thrown himself so whole-heartedly into their studies that even Alec approved of him. If Alphonse still gathered a few dark looks in the evenings, when he joined the everlasting debates on the temple steps, there were only a few.

If Alphonse still woke, some nights, shaking and tense, Gil found some satisfaction in the knowledge that Al could sleep calm the rest of the night as long as Gil held him.

His hands could do something besides destroy, now.


His teacher found him stitching canvas into window covers against the deepening cold of winter nights.

"It seems you’ve decided to stay in one of your houses, finally."

"It’s Alphonse’s house, too," Gil answered, eyes on the canvas.

"So it is. Many of our people approve of that young man." This was said in such a bland tone that Gil looked up, wary. Amos was smiling at him. "Many of our people approve of you, too, you know."

Gil looked down again. "I shouldn’t… I don’t have the right…" It was harder, lately, to say the words with conviction.

Amos sighed. "Do you think the proper restitution for bringing death is to create still more absence in all our hearts?"

Gil bit his lip.

Amos reached over and gripped Gil’s shoulder with a hard hand, shaking him a bit. "Stop being so stubborn, boy."

Gil managed a small smile for his teacher. "If you wanted me to become less stubborn, are you sure you should have housed Alphonse Elric here?"

Amos laughed. "He’s just stubborn enough to match you." He leaned back in his chair and added, "Many of us would be pleased enough if he chose to do so for longer."

Gil shook his head, trying to ignore the twinge at the thought of Alphonse leaving. "He won’t stop searching for his brother, wherever that takes him."

"Mm. Journeys usually end in returning, you know." Amos’ eyes on him were dark and thoughtful. "If they last long enough. Maybe the both of you have further to go."

Gil sat, after his teacher left, hands smoothing the canvas. The memories of his last journey were dark ones, and he knew many of Alphonse’s were also. He had to wonder, just a little, if the return was worth that kind of price.


Gil woke a little as Alphonse turned restless, reaching out to rub his back. Al’s tossing increased, though, and the sounds he made were desperate and stifled, and Gil roused all the way.

"Alphonse." He gathered Al close, calling his name quietly. "Alphonse. Wake up."

Al woke with a start that was half a scream, sitting up with a jerk. "Seal… close…" he panted, eyes wide and blind.

"Alphonse," Gil called again, quiet and insistent.

Al’s eyes finally focused on him. Gil started a bit himself as Al flung himself back down, burrowing into Gil’s chest, shaking. "I was changing," he choked. "It was almost at the seal. I was almost gone."

Gil remembered the steady creep of corruption over steel armor, moving toward a small seal drawn in old blood. That certainly explained it. Gil rubbed Al’s back silently.

"And then… I changed again," Al went on, muffled. "I was back, I was all right. There was just this… light inside me." After a slow, shaky breath, he looked up. "You saved me."

Gil made an uncomfortable sound. "It was the only thing I could think of that might halt the process." And it wouldn’t have been needed if any of them had just been more alert to what that insane State Alchemist was doing as he died. Al could have been spared all of it. Although, if he had, he could never have saved his brother, nor been saved himself. Of course, neither of them might have been in that danger if Alphonse hadn’t been turned into the Stone. But then neither could have been restored… Gil tried to make his thoughts stop spinning. Done was done and he couldn’t pick apart the threads of the past.

Al managed a tiny smile. "Thank you."

Gil looked down at him, mind still full of causes and consequences. "For what?"

"For everything."

After a long moment, Gil breathed out and smiled faintly in the dark, feeling the whirl of his head and heart settling. "You’re welcome," he murmured.

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The Simple and the Subtle – Chapter Five

Al finds his brother. In a way. LAST CHAPTER, INCOMPLETE Drama, I-3

Even asleep, Al could tell this dream was different.

He sat beside his brother in a deep lecture hall, and the lecture was all about extremely combustible fuels and some kind of nozzle and someone named Goddard. Nii-san’s hair was longer than in any of the pictures Al had from those lost years, even the oldest ones, and he was dressed so respectably Al wanted to stare.

But he couldn’t.

Al leaned closer to Nii-san, which he hadn’t intended to do, and murmured "So? Do you think this one can make it?"

They weren’t Al’s words. They weren’t his thoughts.

"Maybe," Nii-san murmured, eyes fixed on the lecturer. "But making it out of atmosphere is just the first step."

Al laughed–only he wasn’t–and spun a pen between his fingers. "Ed, you’re obsessed."

"I’m getting back," Nii-san stated, with determination that Al remembered in a way, from other dreams. And then he glanced over, mouth curling wryly. "Besides, you’re just as obsessed with your own stuff, Alfons."

Al’s start woke him up.


And that was when I got stuck for a little while, and other series intervened, and I eventually admitted that I wasn’t going to finish writing this.

How it was going to finish: Al would realize he’d found Ed in an alternate world by dreaming contact with his alternate self, and head back to Izumi with his insights to figure out a way to bridge the worlds and retrieve his brother. Gil would, with a little prompting from Amos, realize that he really has bonded deeply with Al and would go with him, and there might even be a kiss somewhere in there to get Al to understand why Gil wants to travel with him. Al is entirely pleased with this and shows Gil off to Izumi, much to Izumi’s amusement and Gil’s exasperation. Gil and Sig bond over the trials of being an alchemist’s lover while Al and Izumi get as far as stabilizing Al’s contact between worlds while he’s waking, but can’t figure out how to get someone through without them getting caught by the fragment/creatures in the Gate.

In the meantime, Ed would be researching furiously on how to get to another world via space, and Hohenheim would be sneaking around trying to stop a Nazi experiment in human sacrifice involving the mass death of asylum inmates. Hohonheim would, of course, be captured, and Ed would chase after him, bursting in on the scene just in time to stop the bad guys, but not in time to save his father. Hohenheim would alter whatever inscription/array the Nazi would-be-magicians were using to make it actually work, and sacrifice himself to open the Gate and send Ed through, where of course he promptly enters Al’s perception and is dragged back home on the strength of Al’s knowledge of what the Gate truly is.

(I don’t actually remember if I even knew what I was planning to do with Alfons; maybe he meets a nice mechanic and falls in love.)

Once home, Ed would be delighted to see Al whole, threaten Gil on older-brother-principles, be appalled to find out that Mustang had entered politics but glad that Lisa is keeping an eye on him, and be happy for Winry and Rose that they’d made a match of it. He and Al would bury themselves in theory for a while, hammering out what it was that happened to them, and what it means about the universe. Eventually, though, Al would drift more toward the philosophical end, and he and Gil would return to Ishvar while Ed took up his travels again, looking for fellow alchemists who would listen to the new theory and also for trouble.

The end.

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