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.
Roy had not wanted to cry for many years; he hadn't wept since Ishbal.
"What I did here was nothing out of the ordinary. You are lucky you were shown it so early."
Roy had arched an eyebrow, cleared his throat. "Can I ask what it is about my hand that merits such an intense examination?"
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ed went on, poking Roy in the chest, "I am no longer twelve."
The magazine told him he was doing it all wrong. First, it said he was boring. Then, it said he was bad in bed. Next, it said he was inconsiderate. After that, it told him he was gullible.
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.
He would have been crying for a long time, but the tears seem to have frozen in this damn cold too.
There was a terrible vulnerability to Roy when his cover slipped, and it made Ed uncomfortable.
The reminder that Roy always managed to know what Edward was doing barely got a half-hearted glare.
Ed had his suspicions about any offer Roy Mustang made that sounded like what he wanted. There had to be a catch.
"No funny business!" Ed thundered, not fooled for one minute by that innocent look.
"Half the time you get surprised it's with some shit you didn't even want, the other half of the time you get surprised, you barely avoid getting killed."
Roy smiled slowly as Edward approached his desk, his usual careless pose turned into something... challenging.
"Yeah, so I hear the best way to get anything out of you is by going through your pants," the boy said evenly.
"You can't do that! This is a shounen series!" he hissed.
"You're a lightweight," Roy said dryly, and smiled at the face Ed pulled. "That's enough for tonight, I think."
The showy bastard snapped with a killer grin for their audience and really, Roy was meant for either politics or the stage.
It was an old argument — practically every night, the ritual sparring for who'd be in control.
After three years, two months, fourteen days and five hours of anticipation, Roy heard a knock at the door to his house.
So, really, it was only fair that Ed's first, instinctive reaction when Roy hit the ground after slipping off the roof was to snort and tell him, "I told you so."
Thank you General Mustang. At least that creep was good for something. Winry still wasn't convinced he was good for Ed.
You had to hand it to Roy, he certainly knew how to keep his cool.
"Go back to sleep, Mustang," Ed answers absently, flipping the page.
"Come on," he snorted. "As if I could say no to Al AND Winly looking at me like that."
"You have no idea how good you look right now," Roy said.
"You embarrassed the brass, and now they want their pound of flesh."
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
"Can I trust you," Ed's dewy eyes were huge and he looked somehow younger than he'd ever looked before.
Brother deserves better than to always walk alone. And you deserve better than to quietly freeze in the dark, regretting things left untested.
Roy's breath took a holiday at the beach for approximately 30 seconds, the longest it had ever left him alone.
There was uncertainty in those eyes, and wounded pride, but there was no less passion, and therefore, Roy was no less terrified.
Ed was good; here they both were, trying to call each other's bluff.
But Mustang would hold onto his control easily, manipulating the boy to lose more and more of his.
Heavy-lidded, he would savor them slowly, letting them seep into his mind's eye until he could see nothing else.
When you live in a small apartment, it's hard to miss when your brother comes home smelling like sex and absinthe.
Usually when he wanted something he just took the steps he knew were necessary to getting it.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
Ed jabbed accusingly with an automail finger — nearly putting out Mustang's eye as he did so — and shrieked, "You're a crossdresser!"
Edward doesn't come back the next night, or the next.
"You're getting quite the list," Roy said. "Not that I am any sort of advocate for monogamy, but you certainly are taking full advantage of playing the field."
"Hey! She did it blindfolded! No one else could do that! And better her than that old hag!"
“I said no, Fullmetal--hey, what are you mmnph!”
The door opened, and all the energy Ed had been ready to put towards transmuting the door into a pile of sticks drained out of him through his feet.
"...If I...really went insane...I mean, completely lost my mind..." Ed said, carefully, "do you think you'd be able to stop me?"
Roy would have to remember to make Ed take a hot shower before sex; it would cut down on unpleasant cold shocks.
Screaming or crying would have been appropriate. Edward Elric didn't care about propriety. He was laughing.