When he received no immediate response, he drew back and let her go, and the aching vulnerability on his face made her blink in surprise.
"Mother?" And his voice broke, shattered as he raced to her, arms wrapping around her thin body, embracing the image, the idea. "Mommy!"
Ed jabbed accusingly with an automail finger — nearly putting out Mustang's eye as he did so — and shrieked, "You're a crossdresser!"
They would have had a bitter bitchfight had both suddenly not stopped and realized it was all Roy's fault.
He was not ready to be an uncle! He was ready, however, to hit things and curse.
"Just remind me, even if the alternative is to sleep on a ice cube, NEVER to share a bed with you again.
"Oh, he's probably just studying too hard to notice you knocking," Winly said at first.
They wouldn't be leaving until well after sunset, trusting Al to guide them through the dense thicket of sassafras and witch hazel to the road.
He would have killed, before a nonexistent God and Winry, to be that goddamn spatula.
It made only a semblance of sense, but she understood that the whole truth would be revealed when Ed could be led from this graveyard of the years he had lost.
"You finally took my advice and settled down! Not quite what I had in mind, of course, but I'm so happy for you!"
She looked the wire over for a minute, noting where the insulation had been stripped away for retuning, then tugged it gently, careful not to pull too hard.
He wanted to be able to do something like that; tangle limbs and lips and know what it was like to not have a responsibility.
"YOU HAVE JUST INTERRUPTED AN IMPORTANT TRIP. IF YOU WISH TO NOT BE BEATEN WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR LIFE, YOU BETTER ABANDON THE TRAIN RIGHT NOW!"
The first thing Gracia bought after her husband died was a stepladder.
She would notice when that body's pulse went up around her, the flush of cheeks, and the way the eyes followed her curves.
Winry sucked in a gasp, and dropped backward in shock.
"My neighbors would start saying things behind my back if I took home a suit of armor."
Roy Mustang had his own addiction, and it was very simple: Roy Mustang was addicted to lieutenants.
"So, we're one gunshot from a civil war. If someone from Hakuro's faction fired that shot, for whatever reason ..."
rated:K-L-V | M+F S+S | Mangaverse | post-series | SP: ch 1-108 | DF: ch 105 | Alphonse Elric | Edward Elric | Roy Mustang | mystery | 354th FG HQ | UST | 2010 Best New Voices, Neophyte | Havoc/Rebecca
Greed reached out for whatever proved she was undeniably, unrepentantly alive.
The last thing she remembers of him was his voice begging a stranger to keep her safe. Begging for her useless life.
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."
Sometimes, when he lay awake and undisturbed for many hours, he almost thought he had even succeeded.
"Oh, what would YOU know? said Winry. "You've never looked at a girl in your life."
What part of 'this is my house' are you having problems with, Fullmetal?"
Both Edward and Winry were on hand day and night, looking for anything they could do to ease his way.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
He can do the math; he knows that with two of them and only one of her, there's no good way for things to come out even.
So much has happened since you last came to Central.
Riza looks straight ahead. "Personally, I found during my time in Ishbal that nothing stops a career faster than a bullet between the eyes."
"Tall girls need not apply," Hughes read aloud, without even the trace of a smirk.
rated:K | M+F S+S | Fullmetal | mid-series | First Place, Het & Non-Het | Green Lion Winner | Riza Hawkeye | Roy Mustang | angst | humor | sweet | Elric Kyoudai | 354th FG HQ | 2004 First Kiss, Non-Het
It was the truth, but it sounded lame upon Edward's lips; the way her eyes hooded, she seemed to think so, anyway.
Sometimes it was easy to forget she was a conscript. Other times, it was impossible.
To her, the Philosopher's Stone is blood and fire: his fire, her blood.
"I know how things work, sir," the boy continued, laying the watch across his lap.
Open Mike Night at Rush Valley's one and only coffee house attracts a great many of the town's most ridiculous people.
Roy cleared his throat, and stepped up to the podium. "Welcome to Elric Fanciers Anonymous," he said.
"I am using this spirit gum to stick this necklace over my tattoo. Now stop poking your nose down my cleavage and give me some privacy, Envy."
He closed his fist around her sash and curled into himself, trying to keep his thoughts away from dark things.
It was a pleasant thing, warm and innocently tender.
But he glanced behind himself for Winly, and it was a terrible, bittersweet thing.
He didn't need chalk, or ink; hell, if anything, blood was a better medium for this purpose.
But when the acting commander of the Intelligence branch, the man who controlled her widow's pension, requested and required this service... well... well.
It was kind of ironic, and kind of inconvenient, that Rush Valley, the capital city of automail, was also hot as hell for half the year.
"I'm sorry! Look, I'll fix it. I didn't know it was going to turn out this way!"
He underestimates the little things, like how long it will take him to put his socks on in the morning, and she comes up the stairs when breakfast is long since over to find him crouched over a torn stocking, blinking back furious tears...
She stands beside him with her arms full of bandages, hoping the day he sees his own danger will come before the day he sets himself alight completely.
Itís February in Central. Thereís nothing better to do.
There's nothing wrong with his legs, at least — a sidestep to the right and two paces back and he'd be out the door, if it weren't shut.