Ed jabbed accusingly with an automail finger — nearly putting out Mustang's eye as he did so — and shrieked, "You're a crossdresser!"
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.
So much has happened since you last came to Central.
Instead of being the result of too many hours in the rain; though, this fever seemed to be caused by Winry.
"They raise the dead. They make creatures to fight in the war. This is Edward! This is your son. You have to see that!"
Sometimes, when he lay awake and undisturbed for many hours, he almost thought he had even succeeded.
It didn't fool Al one bit when his brother tried to sneak into their dorm room long after curfew, but that didn't stop Ed from trying.
This, too, was a pain that Edward had inflicted only on himself, but neither Roy nor Al had dared to say so.
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.
"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!"
"You are so dead, bastard," Ed said, still in that dreamy tone, and took a step forwards.
She would notice when that body's pulse went up around her, the flush of cheeks, and the way the eyes followed her curves.
Both Edward and Winry were on hand day and night, looking for anything they could do to ease his way.
"How is it possible for you to be so like him?" she whispered, nuzzling against his throat.
"You finally took my advice and settled down! Not quite what I had in mind, of course, but I'm so happy for you!"
After all, Edward needed her help in catching the syndicate known as 'Soldiers'.
Itís February in Central. Thereís nothing better to do.
He was also certain that if he gave in and laughed, Edward would hang up and never speak to him again.
Etiquette doesn't quite cover situations like this one.
He has lots of women like her, who would like to be his anchor, and too many of them confuse that for throwing themselves head first into the ocean.
What part of 'this is my house' are you having problems with, Fullmetal?"
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.
The last thing she remembers of him was his voice begging a stranger to keep her safe. Begging for her useless life.
More than once she thought she half-saw a face in the leaves, formed by a trick of light and shadow, and her steps grew languid and slow.
It was growing to be habit, restless energy that ran under his skin after she'd just ran her hands over it.
rated:M-L | GENM+F |
"If you've got something to say, say it," she said. "If not, hand me a fork, would you?"
"Do we still have cucumbers? Or I guess I could transmute a mold, do you need this dining chair?"
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.
Winry could not imagine going so far for someone whose name you couldn't even say. She couldn't imagine going so far without allowing yourself to say his name.
But when the acting commander of the Intelligence branch, the man who controlled her widow's pension, requested and required this service... well... well.
Such strength. Such dignity. Such discipline. So not the person she was supposed to seduce.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
"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
When Havoc came back from lunch, he wondered why Hawkeye was picking up scattered papers with a small and warm smile on her face.
He didn't need chalk, or ink; hell, if anything, blood was a better medium for this purpose.
Al knew better than anyone that Ed, if he put his mind to it, could do anything, and a little thing like missing limbs wasn't going to stop him.
But he glanced behind himself for Winly, and it was a terrible, bittersweet thing.
The first thing Gracia bought after her husband died was a stepladder.
You could attribute it to teenage rebellion, if you liked, or to homunculus-hormones, which could be quite fierce, or heck, maybe she was just living up to her name.
Nothing made sense anymore.
"Oh, what would YOU know? said Winry. "You've never looked at a girl in your life."
Roy cleared his throat, and stepped up to the podium. "Welcome to Elric Fanciers Anonymous," he said.
He closed his fist around her sash and curled into himself, trying to keep his thoughts away from dark things.
Water fills her ears without stopping them, just as grief does her mind, and she drums her fingers on the wooden slats in time to the litany of her failure.
"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."
Tonight it is a comforting chatter, in a strange way, that takes Lan Fan's mind away from Young Master's perhaps impossible goal.
It is a photograph that brings them together, and that's as it should be.
"My neighbors would start saying things behind my back if I took home a suit of armor."
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.
"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