The reaction is the most intense Edward has ever seen.
rated:G | S+S | Fullmetal | joyous drivel |
How do you find someone who barely existed in this world now that they're gone?
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
"Post break-up beer, all the way from Xing," Al grinned merrily. "Taken right off a cart heading for the royal court. See the lengths I go to to cheer you up?"
Ed growled under his breath, color high in his cheeks, and pulled away.
Living dangerously had its perks.
He could ask so many things at this point. About sex, Ed, himself...
Envy could rip him and all the worlds in two.
The idiot prince still couldn't be bothered to figure out the different notes and coins, probably because he'd never actually paid for anything in his life.
There was a loud crack, like the sound of several chopsticks simultaneously being snapped in two, followed by the sound of something heavy falling, the object hitting the ground so hard the earth literally shook beneath Ed's feet.
They would have had a bitter bitchfight had both suddenly not stopped and realized it was all Roy's fault.
Gone was the helpless, kicked-puppy look from those purple eyes.
Roy tasted fate in the air as he topped the muddy, grass swept hill.
rated:G | S+S | Ed/Roy
In the summer they competed at climbing through the twisting branches, risking life and bruises to collect baskets of fruit and bring them back home.
There were good things about having Mustang around, least of which was when one forgot their matches.
He felt ten years old and small, pressed against a door that wouldn't open for a very long time.
Roy wondered how far Alphonse would go to prove his point.
Two boys, two faces, two fates, alive and dead at the same time, at different times, nothing in common, everything in common, one thing in common: him.
People all have different ideas of beauty, Al knows, and no two ever appear to be the same.
What was with it with these horny older men? Were they stupid or just massively delusional?
I know what I feel, I know what I think, and I don't need to chickenscratch the shit down and have the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
"Let me get this straight — you want to kiss me to support a theory!?"
It was so, so much easier just to go hungry than to try their hands at something she'd done so well.
It was just the men today, sitting around drinking coffee and playing cards and waiting for the paint to peel or the Fuhrer-in-Training to request they do something.
At fifteen he had been intimidating; at thirty, he could be terrifying.
He was coming to read Alfons pretty well now too, and from what Al did understand he could give as good as he got.
"Alchemy is intended for the public good. If it wasn't anything illegal, why the need for secrecy?"
"Because," said Al flatly, "Roy is dark and handsome and--most importantly of all--charming. And you're short and blond and obnoxious."
God, he's gorgeous, even cut up. Especially cut up.
Red. It looked strange on him, the red did, strange and somehow distressing.
"You aren't Envy, are you? Because if you are, I'll kick your ass and find out what you've done with my brother."
It wasn't a matter of getting his own way. It was simply a matter of getting.
"Beautiful," he purred again, a smile curling the edges of his lips, and Roy shivered despite the heat.
"Brother says Mr. Mustang grabbed his behind today while he was at the blackboard," he explained as his blush slowly faded, and Ed scowled.
It is snowing in earnest by the time the fire has begun to burn low, but neither boy wants to move to add more wood.
Mustang fell into a kind of trance whenever he killed with his flames -- snapping his fingers continually, sometimes so fast that both his hands blurred.
Ed was normally a cheerful, friendly drunk, thank goodness, but the slightest hint of reproach or anger on Al's part would send Ed into a crashing depression.
"Brother," Alphonse said, voice soft with horror, "I think that Winry's going to kill you."
Roy Mustang had his own addiction, and it was very simple: Roy Mustang was addicted to lieutenants.
In matters of love and loss, it could be argued, the principle of equivalent exchange did not exist.
"Listen, bastard... Do you always have to do things the hard way? You never, ever make it easy for me."
He doesn't love Scar. The idea is ridiculous, but they are all they have left, each other's bodies rocks against the tide of strangeness, unfamiliarity.
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
He wanted Hughes to know how many lines he had crossed in his lifetime.
Heaven is this: a short, crisp October day, the clear sky a great bowl above them, the amber valley a chalice below.
There was really too much good happening today to allow room for imperfection, in his humble opinion.