Rule number one: no one knows about us. Rule number two: I will continue to take other lovers to keep up appearances. Rule number three: no commitment. I thought it would be best to keep this quiet so I wouldn't look like a damn pedophile.
There was a terrible vulnerability to Roy when his cover slipped, and it made Ed uncomfortable.
"Huh? Whose fault? Ahahah.. aha..." Ed tried to avoid the topic.
Ed had confessed that he had no idea how the relationships had started.
Winry had scraped a promise out of Ed.
Fullmetal was starting to turn slightly purple, now, which definitely clashed with his coloring...
“I said no, Fullmetal--hey, what are you mmnph!”
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.
Now the eyes were dull, the gold frosted, and bitter lines caged his mouth.
It doesn’t disappoint, never does; Ed is standing on the corner when the car arrives, all sharp moody edges and obtrusively coloured blue shorts.
Artificial muscles and steel could not replace the level of sensitivity real muscle and skin had.
I noticed, Ed told him with as much edge as he could muster.
Ed considered for a moment how much to share with the boy. Kids could be weird with what upset them, and Ed didn't want to lose his single ally in the neighborhood.
"...If I...really went insane...I mean, completely lost my mind..." Ed said, carefully, "do you think you'd be able to stop me?"
... to prove his point, he wields his tongue as he would a pen, hastily spelling out the letters P-E-R-V-E-R-T with his saliva...
This really was turning out to be a day of surprises, thought Roy.
Ed jabbed accusingly with an automail finger — nearly putting out Mustang's eye as he did so — and shrieked, "You're a crossdresser!"
I have enough things to worry about without dragging you into my messes. Why did you have to be the one to come after me?
Ed clapped his hands again and Roy felt distinctly cold in his nether regions.
Ed had his suspicions about any offer Roy Mustang made that sounded like what he wanted. There had to be a catch.
Roy tasted fate in the air as he topped the muddy, grass swept hill.
rated:G | S+S | Ed/Roy
If killers and empty assassin armor hadn't frightened him, half a foot of park bench shouldn't leave him feeling so useless and pathetic.
It was sure to be a disaster.
While Al couldn't say he approved, he was certain the Colonel wasn't stupid enough to try anything with Ed on a first date.
The hand under Edward's intact leg shifted, and the fingers snapped. A wave of heat danced across his skin, and he shivered in fear as the failed experiment died.
"For the last time, we are not having this conversation!"
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.
Yeah. Get it right and be honest, it's a little too good, a little too everything to let go of just yet.
Some of the stuff he was asked to investigate was truly stupid shit. A bakery, for instance.
Roy had arched an eyebrow, cleared his throat. "Can I ask what it is about my hand that merits such an intense examination?"
"So, Colonel, when are you going to find my replacement?"
"You'd be dangerous if you ever figured out what you wanted, Fullmetal."
"Yeah, so I hear the best way to get anything out of you is by going through your pants," the boy said evenly.
"Tonight," Roy breathed in his ear, tickling the hairs on the back of his neck, "there will be no safe word. Do you understand?"
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
Roy would have to remember to make Ed take a hot shower before sex; it would cut down on unpleasant cold shocks.
"Listen, bastard... Do you always have to do things the hard way? You never, ever make it easy for me."
It was, and he hated to admit it, an intriguing proposal. Ed wondered who the General had leaned on to get it written in just such a way to make his alchemic blood tingle.
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ed went on, poking Roy in the chest, "I am no longer twelve."
Before this war, he'd never wiped human blood off his automail.
This, too, was a pain that Edward had inflicted only on himself, but neither Roy nor Al had dared to say so.
That was unacceptable. Anger was to be expected; disgust was not allowed.
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.
"No funny business!" Ed thundered, not fooled for one minute by that innocent look.
Ed let out the barest squeak, then glared fire as if daring Roy to say anything.
"Go back to sleep, Mustang," Ed answers absently, flipping the page.
Let it never be said that whatever his obsessive tendencies, Edward Elric was unable to enjoy life's simpler pleasures.
It was an old argument — practically every night, the ritual sparring for who'd be in control.
No alchemical reaction could sustain fire without fuel forever.