They'd been on the run so long, Ed had long since lost track of the last time he'd slept in a bed instead of in an abandoned barn, or under a hedge.
The sweet morning snaps like a fragile pane of glass and Al is sobbing, the sounds tearing up out of his chest and throat before he can stop them.
Al himself had asked for nothing, except the one thing that Hohenheim wouldn't give him. Freedom.
Ed's scowl deepens. "Want us to leave and come back when we aren't virgins anymore?"
"You embarrassed the brass, and now they want their pound of flesh."
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.
After the fighting was over, and the chaos afterwards, and after that the longer, slower process of establishing a semblance of order and calm, they finally got to the good part. Which was to say, the partying.
"I am not obsessed with Edward Elric!"
He lay back on the couch (in Roy Mustang's office, where else?) and declared , "I'm not wearing this."
He'd lied in smoke filled bars. He'd hunted down lubricants in seedy stores that catered to the most iffy of clientele. Alfons had EARNED Ed's love.
High school and sexuality are hard enough to deal with, without adding high explosives to the mix.
Sometimes he feels like an actor, playing to an especially difficult audience.
...when he presses his hand against the scraped array and wills it to activate, he can't help but send a whispered prayer to it. Please work. Please, please...
This too, was wrong Ė not at all the way these things were supposed to go. In his mind's eye, Edward was already yielding to the pressure of his witty onslaught.
The sun was up. It was time to start the day, but Roy felt exhausted.
Of course, the jar was really the professional female companionship fund; or, as Ed liked to sarcastically call it, the pussy kitty.
He dragged through his last mission a true convert to the stone, the last shreds of self preservation stripped from him.
The nurses knew all about these interludes, of course, but it was not something they could do anything about.
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His friend is blushing, ashamed to be seen in such a condition - and this is not new, either, this is not new at all.
His brother seemed to like it when the leather left marks, a residual token of ownership, even when the collar (by job-dictated necessity) had to be removed.
Zinnsoldat, they named it, the Tin Soldier, in reference to their former service and in acknowledgement of their current uselessness.
The color red was a distraction. The color red was him. Him--Mustang's own constant distraction, the waving red banner amidst the dull color that painted his everyday life.
It is her drive that makes Winry love her. It is the fact that her love doesn't weaken her.
Artificial muscles and steel could not replace the level of sensitivity real muscle and skin had.
A small biological flaw, if one could even consider it that.
This was getting crazy. He knew that his college years ran equivalent with his sexual peak, but honestly?
"One of us was going to betray the other tonight."
"Come on," he snorted. "As if I could say no to Al AND Winly looking at me like that."
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
"Oh, hello, brother." Alphonse flashed the smaller boy a smile, startled but pleased. "I didnít hear you come outside."
"I know those court ordered anger management classes were years ago, but you've come such a long way."
No one talked of Equivalent Exchange in England, but they had a saying that came close: There ain't no such thing as a free lunch.
He has felt this before, from homunculi and other dead things, and where Al does not have those tactile memories from Before, only visual ones (thankfully, thankfully), Ed certainly does.
Half the apple pie was still on a cracked plate on the windowsill, covered with a bowl so it didn't go stale before tomorrow, because it was all he had in the house.
"You are so dead, bastard," Ed said, still in that dreamy tone, and took a step forwards.
As much as he loved his family, Alphonse Elric wouldn't have traded these moments alone for anything.
Here's the game then: I'm gonna tell you what I want you to do, and you're gonna do it exactly as I say.
...Ed looks bored, but Alfons knows that it's an act, that Ed loves learning and these impromptu history lessons are favourites of his.
"Rose..." Winry's voice held hesitation, not sure as if she should finish her thought or not.
rated:M-L | S×S | Fullmetal |
Tomorrow: having to talk to fucking Hohenheim. The day after tomorrow: the apocalypse. No pressure, eh?
Now the eyes were dull, the gold frosted, and bitter lines caged his mouth.
The brush began its march through the sunbeam locks, from crown to tail, and Riza pressed her lips to them. "Until then."
This would be so much easier if he could just refuse the man to his face.
This is far more effective, Roy thinks grimly, than any threat of physical violence against his own self.
Ed was good; here they both were, trying to call each other's bluff.
He had to force himself to remember that he hadn't even known what Alphonse had been like in the flesh, but he was fairly certain that he hadn't been a polished and polite doppelganger of his older brother.
"Did God," Scar asked softly, "mean for us to die?"