This is what lovers do, thought Ed. They sacrifice for the other's pleasure.
Someone had clearly forgotten to tell Roy that he was much better at starting fires than stopping them.
"Don't worry about it," he says bossily. "I know what to do. Give me the book--don't close it--ah, thanks."
Ling. Ambitious, greedy Ling. He deserved what he got.
I was talking with Al one day. And I was explaining how a long-term relationship is like a religion. They both have similar hallmarks...
Envy would never let him forget that the price of pride was destruction, and that those who infringed upon God's domain were damned.
"No funny business!" Ed thundered, not fooled for one minute by that innocent look.
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
"Yeah, so I hear the best way to get anything out of you is by going through your pants," the boy said evenly.
“I’ve never seen an alchemist who didn’t need to draw one of those circles,” he complimented, in a tone just shy of cooing. “You must be pretty special.”
He runs out of ink halfway through the page, and with a quiet sigh dips his finger in the inkwell...
Twenty-one days, and it all falls down.
In the weeks that followed, the Major General begged, borrowed and stole minor assignments, anything to keep that brilliant mind occupied and the company close.
"I've never met a pair of virgins more ready to jump off the sexual deep end, and you are hung up on a little social rule?"
One never grew entirely accustomed to having nightmares, Ed had found.
The sun was up. It was time to start the day, but Roy felt exhausted.
The momentary flash of grief and longing took him by surprise, as it always did.
There was uncertainty in those eyes, and wounded pride, but there was no less passion, and therefore, Roy was no less terrified.
There was gold in the middle of midnight, and Envy smiled over his satisfaction.
There was no question that the very act of living in this world was to be in exile.
"You just can't get enough punishment, can you, you little masochist?"
"Damnit, brother," Alphonse managed, and Ed grinned at him. "I was only away for a week!"
Every statement directed at me now seemed to be prefaced with "you bastard." I didn't mind; it was as good a name as any other.
"I'm not thirteen," Al said, as if reading his mind.
He dragged through his last mission a true convert to the stone, the last shreds of self preservation stripped from him.
"How old are you?" The answer was on the wanted posters, of course, but he wanted to check.
I noticed, Ed told him with as much edge as he could muster.
The showy bastard snapped with a killer grin for their audience and really, Roy was meant for either politics or the stage.
Even now, when Envy was nowhere near him, he was still too close; he was still under Ed's skin, rubbing him raw.
As much as he loved his family, Alphonse Elric wouldn't have traded these moments alone for anything.
"Of course, that depends how you define cruel," he adds, amused.
"You're a lightweight," Roy said dryly, and smiled at the face Ed pulled. "That's enough for tonight, I think."
But suddenly, when Al had his body back, it was like picking up an old book and learning something new.
The Colonel's laugh might have been relieved or wanting or even mocking; it was hard to tell.
"So ...." Havoc tried to look nonchalant. "Fullmetal's hair is, uh ... bright."
There are some things that aren't to be tolerated.
"Yeah," Fuery chips in, "you're always the one to stop Ed from doing weird stuff, not the other way around."
"Hey! She did it blindfolded! No one else could do that! And better her than that old hag!"
His name. His name on wet, bloody lips. Edward turned his face away, his lips in the long, dark hair.
The nurses knew all about these interludes, of course, but it was not something they could do anything about.
He lay back on the couch (in Roy Mustang's office, where else?) and declared , "I'm not wearing this."
Well, it sure looks like the rumors were true about Wednesday nights, Ed thought, easing inconspicuously along the edges of the room. But I never knew so many soldiers were gay.
I had offered him something he couldn't deny, something he couldn't refuse: the blink of salvation and a flesh-and-blood body for his brother.
He realized for the first time that Edward, who he was used to seeing shadowed by blood and sweat and his own private sorrows, was actually beautiful.
"Did God," Scar asked softly, "mean for us to die?"
Now the eyes were dull, the gold frosted, and bitter lines caged his mouth.
High school and sexuality are hard enough to deal with, without adding high explosives to the mix.
Elysia glanced once more around the room. In her head, there were echoes, snatches of conversations, voices from people long gone, long dead. There were ghosts in this room.
Sweet nothingness, just feeling, no Stone, no pesky mental commentary or guilt, and just this goddamn sensation that eclipsed the sun.
"It's blue!" Edward announced with the voice of desperation.