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The Adventures of Roy Mustang: Sex Ed Teacher

chapter 13.

"No," the blond growled, tightening his hold, "it's Sunday,"
he snarled.

Roy tugged again, snorted and tried to loosen the automail
fingers from his wrist, only to have a flesh leg snake across his lap, an automail
leg slide across his back and ankles hooked at his side.

"Ed, you know how far I got behind last month with that
whole bombing business," Roy said aggravated. He looked at the blond's face
and regretted his words. He leaned over the boy, stroked his hair and nosed
his ear. "If I don't get this done today, I have to stay later tomorrow and
you wouldn't like that either," he said softly, "It will only take a few hours,
then I'll bring you home something from the deli, how about that?"

"I don't want anything from the deli," the teen said petulantly,
"I want you. We just got back in last night from Xenotime. I haven't seen you
in almost two weeks, it's not fair."

Roy dropped his forehead to the side of Ed's head.

"Things are rarely fair, Edward," he said.

"You say that like you think I don't know it, and you
only use my full name when you're trying to impart your so-called wisdom," Ed
grumbled.

"Let me go now and I'll be home this evening," Roy said
gently.

"Fine," Ed said and released him, rolled over and presented
the Colonel his back.

Roy reached out and stroked it once, Ed sighed again.
Roy got up and went into the bathroom.

Ed drew little circles on the pillow and wound his feet
in the sheets. When they'd finally gotten in last night it was late, but it
was Saturday. Al was the living embodiment of giving.

"Go see the Colonel," his little brother said, "I know
he'll be glad to see you."

Ed had made a dismissive sound.

"I don't have to rush right over there just because we
haven't been back in a while," he said, and sucked on the inside of his cheek.

"Oh you missed him, I know it," Al said, "I don't know
why you feel you have to hide it. Besides, I'll be able to get the wash done
and catch up on some of my reading without you in my non-existent hair."

"Who are you calling so undersized they get tangled in
your panache?" Ed snarled loudly.

"It's been so long since I've heard one of those," Al
said in wonderment, "I was beginning to think you may have actually become immune,
but you've restored my faith in your ability to totally gloss over what is actually
said and only hear what you want to hear."

The door rattled loudly on its hinges as Ed slammed it
on the way out.

Al thought it was really cute how Ed relied on his permission
before he did anything sometimes.

How clever Al was to give it without out seeming to.


Roy had answered the door in his bathrobe, hair flat on
one side of his head and eyes half open.

Ed had stepped past him into the foyer without a word
and Roy had shut the door, turning to him.

Edward just fell forward. Long arms caught him and pulled
him close and he nuzzled into a chest that smelled like sandalwood, sighing
as long, deft fingers tugged the tie from his hair and plucked apart his braid.

Then there were lips on his lips and he was being walked
backwards into the living room, his long red coat being pushed off his shoulder.
He tangled his own fingers in the bathrobe the Colonel wore and stretched up
on his toes to meld his lips with the ones busy chewing his.

There was more negotiation in the hall, where Edward lost
his black jacket and black tank top, and then there was the bliss of sheets
against his bare back that smelled like soap and sandalwood. His feet were bared
and then his belt was taken. His pants and boxers followed suit and then there
was a rustle of fabric not from his body.

Then Ed knew the heaven of bare skin, on his chest and
between his legs, rubbing the inside of his thighs. Warm lips descended on his
mouth again and he opened it. The Colonel tasted a bit sweet and that was also
nirvana.

But as willing as the body might be, it was also tired.
Train trips that lasted days were very conducive of sleep. Ed's lover was very
sensitive to his needs, for he drew Ed up into soft pillows, cradled Ed against
a chest that was warm and comforting, stroked through blond hair and down a
smooth back until Ed fell asleep.


"I know," the Colonel leaned out of the bathroom door,
toothbrush hanging from his mouth, "Why don't you call Al and invite him over?
He can keep you company while I'm at work."

Ed turned back over and looked at him, raised an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't mind?" he said hopefully.

"Of course not," Roy replied, "I have books and chess
and the phonograph, if you're careful, and some board games."

Ed sat up and smiled.

"Ok," he said, kicking off the sheet and sliding off the
bed, "I'll go call him."

Roy sighed and watched Ed's bare backside go out the door.

As long as Al went home when Roy got off work, it was
ok.


Ed charged to the door and yanked it open before the second
knock could land. About twenty minutes earlier, he'd charged to the same door
and blocked it with his body until a beautiful dark-haired man in a uniform
pawed him eagerly, kissed him senseless and had to grab the door frame to tug
his hand free so he could go.

"Al!" Ed said as if he hadn't seen his sibling in months
instead of hours.

"Hi Brother," Al returned cheerily with the same tone
and held up a bag, "I brought you some lunch."


The boys sat together on the living room floor, a chess
board between them, a few books opened here and there and half a turkey and
cheese sandwich hanging out of Ed's mouth.

"It was really nice of the Colonel to invite me," Al said,
making a move with his pawn, "I've never been inside his apartment before."

Ed bit down on the sandwich, chewed and swallowed.

"Yeah," Ed said, "It was nice, he knew he was going to
be gone for a while, I guess he thought I would get lonely."

It was very nice to be able to share with his brother
this apartment which was filled with so many wonderful memories, some not so
wonderful ones, but they were all part of the same whole. It made the apartment
feel more like home now that Al was creating memories inside it too.

"Or he was scared of what you might do in here given time
to yourself," Al said and Ed tracked back a bit, trying to decide if Al's visit
was going to be in the good memory or not so good memory category.


After being trounced soundly twice, Ed decided chess was
boring, and so were the books. He decided to poke around in a hall closet instead
and he found some boxes on the very top shelf. Well, Al found some and Ed pestered
him until Al handed them down into his reach. Now the brothers were back on
the living room floor with the boxes open and the contents laid bare.

"You can't get mad at him for this," Al said, "these are
all before you started seeing him, some of them are from before you even knew
him," he said reasonably.

Ed was sneering at yet another love letter, before tossing
it over his shoulder and digging in the box again.

"Oh yes I can," Ed said, "he knows everything about everything
before we do, even if we are in the middle of the everything he already knows,"
Ed stopped to ponder that sentence, then shook his head and yanked another letter
out of another envelope, "so he should have seen me coming. That. Bastard."

The second box was not as incriminating as the first.
The top few letters were mushy, but then they hit official things. A letter
congratulating him on his promotion, some letters from Anna that made Ed have
a twinge of conscience over, so he left them unmolested. At the bottom were
photographs.

"Oh look," Al said, picking one up, "it's Lieutenant Colonel
Hughes."

Ed craned his neck over to see. Roy and Hughes stood,
grinning, Roy's arm was slung over Hughes' shoulder, both were in their uniform
pants, but the tops were just undershirts and they looked dirty and sweaty.

"They must be good friends," Al said and put the picture
down, reaching in for another one.

"Yeah," Ed said, smiling at the memory of Hughes at Roy's
bedside, looking relieved and stern at the same time, after Roy had woken up.

Al held up another picture and looked at it for a long
moment.

"I think it's the Colonel," Al said.

"Let me see," Ed said, holding out his hand.

"He's with a girl, promise you won't hyperventilate,"
Al said.

"Give it to me!" his older brother snapped.

So Al handed it over and Ed looked at it, and his eyebrows
rose and his mouth stretch into a grin.

A teenage Roy was scowling at the camera, dressed in shorts
and a tank top, barefoot, with hair wet and plastered to his head. A stocky
man with a square jaw and short, clipped hair was standing beside him, an arm
over his shoulders and a girl with heavy glasses and short brown hair was also
in the picture, looking like she was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

"That's Anna," Ed said, and showed the picture to Al again,
"I guess that's her dad, I'm keeping this one out," Ed sat it aside, "In fact..."
Ed leaned over and slid the picture into the space between Al's helmet and neck
ring.

"Hey," Al said, "that's like stealing." He patted his
chest plate like he felt the fluttering bit of paper settle in the bottom.

"Just a little insurance," Ed said, "the next time he
zings me in front of the guys in the office I'll have some ammunition." Ed patted
his brother's chest.

"You're making me an accomplice to your criminal activities,"
Al said.

"Oh you love it and you know it," Ed grinned, "at least
it's never dull."

"That's what worries me," Al returned.

A few more pictures were drawn out. Some old faded ones,
they were marked on the back with dates, but the ink was faded and worn. Ed
recognized no one in them and Al made sure he put them back in first, almost
lovingly.

"They might be pictures of his family," Al said.

"You think?" Ed asked. The Colonel never talked about
his family.

"Yeah," Al said, "that older man sort of looks like the
Colonel and they are pretty old to be turning yellow like that."

"Oh," Ed said and watched Al reassemble the boxes. "You
think he misses them?" Ed ventured.

"Maybe," Al said, "but with us and you and everyone at
the office, I think he made a new one."

Ed smiled.


Paperwork. Was. So. Dull.

Roy yawned again and contemplated his desktop, sighing
and slouching some more. He was in the office alone (but no First Lieutenant
breathing down his neck so it wasn't all bad)
and that was even more boring.

He leaned forward again, and stared down at the field
report he'd started reading two times. If this agent was any more dry in his
writing, the paper would have crumbled up and blown away. He thought about Ed's
reports. Those messy, hand written affairs, written so heavy-handed that the
paper was torn in places. They were filled with misspellings and doodles, wild
grammatical stretches and long, weaving run on sentences that Roy would physically
put punctuation in himself and reread a few times to make sure he had it right.
That was the way to write a report, something to engage the mind of the person
having to read it, to draw them into participation, like filling in commas and
periods. Ed would give him such a report on Xenotime and he looked forward to
it, much better reading than this current lot about police actions and local
rumors.

Of course thinking about Ed was not the best way to concentrate,
especially not after this morning or last night or a few weeks ago. Roy sighed.
No, it wasn't good to think about Ed naked, or moaning, or arching or stretching.
It wasn't even good to think about Ed laughing, because that led to Roy wanting
to make him moan and arch and stretch. The Colonel laid his cheek on the desk,
fiddled with his silver pen and sighed again. This was going to take forever.

He sat up, stood, marched over to the filing cabinets
behind the big desk, reached up on top, pulled the radio over and turned it
on. He decided he was very picky about the station and fiddled with the knob
a quite a while until he found something he could tolerate. Then he stretched
and scratched, noticing a bag under the big table where the men sat. He squatted
down and pulled it out, opened it up and found some of Fuery's books. Al read
these books, too. He took one out and looked at it, laughed a little at the
title, opened it up to sample a paragraph and scowled. What drivel.

He wandered back over to his desk, still reading so he
could mentally mock the entire thing and plopped down in his chair.

A half hour later, he was a third of the way through the
book and wondering if the Duke realized his evil twin was impersonating him
at the Summer Ball, when his stomach asked him if it could have some dumplings.
Why of course it could, so he marked his place, put the book in his desk drawer,
gathered up his necessary things and went to lunch.

On the walk to lunch, he decided to make friends with
the MP assigned to watch his ass at all times, but the man was too interested
in things like his duty to be much of a conversationalist. He kept giving everyone
nasty looks too, so the Colonel sighed and endured. At a newsstand on the way,
he stopped and picked up a couple of books for Fuery that he hadn't seen in
the bag.

At lunch he flirted with a darling Xingian waitress that
couldn't have been much older than Ed, (then had the dual guilt of A: Flirting
with a girl, and B: Flirting with a very young girl)
and that gave him pause,
but not for too long. He flirted with her again when she brought the check because
she was cute... and Ed couldn't see him doing it.


"Ok," Ed said.

"Ok," Al said.

"You ready?" Ed said.

"Ready," Al said.

"Here I go!" Ed yelped, then ran through the kitchen.
He hit the hardwood floor at the opening of the hall doorway, slid the length
in a pair of Roy's socks and slammed into the shut guest bedroom door at the
end, landing on his tuckus.

Al did him one better. Al slammed him through the
door and Ed slid all the way up under the bed. Al had to get him out and dust
him off, which lead him to decide to clean under the bed. When Ed could see
again, he alchemized the door back to normal. He'd wait until Al took off the
socks to try and fix the holes in them.

"I wonder where the Colonel keeps his broom?" Al said.

Ed looked at him askance.

"You're going to seriously clean out from under that bed?"
he asked.

"Well yeah," Al said, "it's filthy, why?"

"I got a lousy deal for my right arm, the Gate kept the
part of your mind that makes sense sometimes," Ed grumbled.

"Well what did you expect," Al returned, "it was your
arm, after all."


The walk back to the office was long, hot and tiring.
The Colonel dragged back in and collapsed behind his desk. How was he supposed
to work in these conditions? The paperwork on his desk hadn't magically finished
itself by the time he got back and that was disappointing. Maybe there was an
array to complete paperwork, have to talk to Ed about that. So he sat up, picked
up his pen and stared at the report in front of him.

He wrote: This man's reports read slightly better than
the backside of a sick donkey
in the margin. There, that ought to make Hawkeye
happy, he was providing commentary. Well if he could keep up this pace he'd
be done in no time! Never give up, never give in, never look back! He grabbed
the next sheaf of papers to see what insulting, yet witty remark it provoked
from him. He just loved sudden inspiration!


They were laying on the kitchen floor now. Al took up
most of it, so Ed was all scrunched up in the corner where the cabinets met
the stove. He was eating a pork chop he found in the icebox unattended. It was
just lying there, and Roy hadn't put his name on it or anything, so he figured
he didn't need it.

"You don't know how long that's been in there," Al said,
studying the ceiling and trying to gather deeper meaning from the rust-colored
water stains that were collected up in one corner.

"It's not green and it didn't smell bad," Ed said, stripping
the bone with rodent-like efficiency.

"Well, I'm glad you finally figured that out," Al said,
"I didn't think that lesson was ever going to stick."

"When you can eat again what's the first thing you'll
eat?" Ed said.

"Hmmmm," Al pondered, "Noodles with meat sauce, probably."

"Noodles with meat sauce," Ed almost drooled.

"I just want something you really, really want to eat,
but then when you try and get some, I'll pout and say 'But it's not fair, I
haven't gotten to eat anything in so long!' and then, all guilt ridden,
you won't eat any," Al stated.

"You're really mean," his elder brother said.

"Yeah, I know," Al sighed, "but more for me!"


Ed was sometimes too curious for his own good.

"I don't think you should be messing with that stuff,"
Al said cautiously.

Ed picked up another bottle from Roy's small make shift
bar, uncapped it, took a whiff and wrinkled his nose.

"What's that?" Al asked.

"Scotch, he drinks it like it's orange juice or something,"
Ed said and recapped it.

"What does it taste like?" Al asked.

"I would say it's a lot like drinking liquid fire. It
looks like that stuff at the restaurant," Ed said.

"You drank scotch in a restaurant?" Al asked, clearly
impressed.

"Yeah," Ed said, "I did, out of a huge glass that was
about this big," Ed shaped his hands, "but it wasn't full. It was just a little
in the bottom because it was the really expensive kind, you know all fancy and
shit like the Colonel likes," Ed was proud of his boyfriend's snooty tastes.

"Wow," Al said, "did you like it?"

"No," Ed said, "it was awful and it made me do stupid
things."

"Like what?" Al asked and picked up the bottle.

"Well, it made me set a table cloth on fire and fall over
a potted plant," Ed said.

Al put the bottle down quickly.

"I want to go out with you sometime, it sounds like a
lot of fun," Al said.

"The Colonel didn't seem to think so," Ed grumbled.

Ed squatted down, opened the bottom doors of the liquor
cabinet and started setting more varied bottles up on it's counter. Al read
the labels curiously.

"Oh I know what cherry cordial is," his younger brother
said with glee, "it's an aperitif, something you drink before a meal. The Duke
has them all the time."

"Oh yeah?" Ed said, "How is the Duke anyways?"

"He's on a mission to the furthest corners of the coldest
continent to seek out The Ice Crystal Alchemist who may be the only thing that
can save his one true love, of this book anyways."

"He's a well-traveled guy," Ed said, "too bad we can't
ask him about the philosopher's stone."

"It is too bad," Al said, "because with his good looks
and savvy charm and dynamic know-how, I'm sure finding the stone would be a
breeze."

"You read way, way, way too much into these little conversations,
Al," Ed said.

"It's my older brother coping mechanism," Al said, "it
serves me well."


Ed selected the fanciest glass Roy had in the pantry and
carried it back to the bar. He decided to try the cherry cordial first.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Al said.

"Hey if I'm old enough to fu... uh, have a boyfriend,
I'm old enough to drink," Ed said.

"Touché dear brother, touché," Al said.

Ed poured some of the amber liquid into the glass and
sniffed it. It didn't smell as bad as the others. He took a cautious sip, then
another. It kind of tasted like the Colonel had last night. Pretty soon, it
tasted really good.


After Ed had had about three over one too many, he decided
he needed to show Al his Colonel impersonation. So together they went into the
bedroom, Ed in the lead and Al following with hands out to catch Ed if he fell
over, which he threatened to do at least twice. Ed began tossing things over
his shoulder, scrabbling through the closet in search of the Colonel's spare
uniform.

"There's your blue shirt," Al quipped behind him, "I've
been looking all over for it! I should have known."

Finally the uniform was located, torn out of its cleaners
paper wrapping and suitably donned. Ed looked like he was wearing a blue tent
predictably, but he fussed with the collar and straightened the epilates and
pushed up the sleeves.

"So let's see this great impersonation," Al told his inebriated
sibling.

Ed cleared his throat.

"Major Elric," Ed snapped and pointed to his non-existent
other self, "you have been a naughty, naughty boy," he slurred.

"Huh, I don't remember the Colonel saying anything like
that," Al said.

"Your insubordination is a disgrace to this entire army,"
Ed continued undaunted.

"Ok, he's probably said that," Al sighed.

"Your punishment will be severe," Ed intoned grimly.

"Oh come on, the Colonel never said that," Al put his
hands on his hips.

"Drop your drawers young man," Ed howled.

"Whoa, has he really said that?" Al asked.

"And get over there on that bed on your stomach, I better
see those cheeks in the air," Ed wailed.

"I'm going to the living room now!" Al yelped and turned
to go.

"You're in for it now," Ed shrieked behind him, "because
Colonel Spanky has come to town!"


After Ed had finished yelling at whoever he was yelling
at in the bedroom, he decided to join Al in the living room. Al heard him coming.
He heard Ed muttering in the hall, take a few steps and then a loud thud. He
heard more muttering, some scrabbling around, a few more steps and then a loud
thud. When Ed actually made it into the living room, he stood weaving like a
cattail in the breeze and fixed Al with a befuddled look. "I think my automail
is broken."

Al watched Ed take a couple of steps into the living room,
trip on the long legs of the uniform and fall over.

"Not the automail," Al said wryly, "but I agree with you,
something is broken, or will be if the Colonel catches you."

Ed looked up, got to his hands and knees and then his
feet.

"I know," he said, smiling serenely, "we'll listen to
phono... phono... those!" and he pointed at the Colonel's precious phonograph
disc collection, sitting and minding their own business in a wooden rack carved
just to hold them neatly beside the phonograph box.

"Uh," Al said, "I don't know, maybe we shouldn't bother
those."

Ed pursed his lips and made a raspberry sound, headed
over, and fell. He picked himself up, fell again, then crawled the rest of the
way, using the stand that the phonograph was sitting on to get to his feet.
He flipped open its lid and looked inside it for the longest time, raised his
sleeve-drowned hand, put it on the crank and continued to stare into the box.
Finally, he slapped himself in the forehead with his automail hand and winced.
"Oh yeah, you got to put one in!"

Al shook his head.

Ed turned to the rack, picked up the first disc and he
slid it out of its sleeve, studied it closely and dropped it.

"Ah!" Al said behind him.

"Don't worry," Ed said, "that's not the one I wanted,"
and he picked up another one.

"Ed, maybe you should let me do this," Al said.

"What? No! I am perfectly capable," and he weaved a little,
"of doing this on my own, have you ever worked one of these before?" he looked
at Al and attempted to look superior, but he looked like he was negotiating
a sewer in the middle of the rainy season.

"Well no," Al admitted.

"Well I have," Ed said, "you just leave it to your big
brother," Ed looked at the second disc for a long moment, then dropped it and
picked up a third.

"That's how I got into the mess in the first place," Al
muttered.

After a few more discs had hit the floor, Ed decided on
one from the very back at random, he dropped it into the box, reached in and
seem to wiggle it all around, then cranked the mechanism with such enthusiasm
Al thought it might be able to take off and fly. Ed curse it for a few moments,
then seem to remember to toggle the switch and dropped the needle onto it, the
phonograph immediately blared to life in the middle of a song. Ed had wound
the box up so tight it was playing a little fast and the person in the song
sounded funny and squeaky like a mouse.

"It's our song," Ed said drunkenly and sighed and tilted
his head.

"It is?" Al asked.

Ed seemed to consider it. "No, stupid thing! That's not
it!" and he reached in, ripped the disc off the turntable and flung it over
his shoulder.

Al watched it sail across the room, strike the wall and
fall behind the couch.

"Play our song!" Ed was ordering the phonograph player.

"It might help if it knew which song it was," Al said,
trying to save the phonograph's life.

"It's the one that makes him look all like he's gonna
fall asleep all droopy and he has this stupid grin on his face," Ed growled,
"it's my favorite song, now play it!" he ordered the wooden box.

"Ed maybe you should have a little lie down," his younger
brother coaxed.

Ed whirled on him, scowling, then his look smoothed out.

"Ok!" he said.

Al helped him to the couch.


Just as Al was wondering where he should start to try
and clean up the utter chaos Ed had made of the living room, the phone rang.
Al wondered if he should pick it up, but then it rang again and again and Al
couldn't bear to hear anything cry out for long. So he cautiously picked up
the receiver.

"Hello?" he said.

"Alphonse," the Colonel said pleasantly on the other end,
"how are you boys doing? I just finished up here and I'm going to be heading
home soon. I thought I'd see what Ed wants from the deli."

Al glanced over at the uniform laying on the couch with
a lump in the middle.

"Ed's in the bathroom," Al said, "but I know he likes
turkey and cheese," Al said.

"Alright then, turkey and cheese it is, tell him I'll
be home in about 30 minutes," the Colonel said.

"Yeah, I'll do that," Al said, "uh... goodbye sir."

Al hung up the phone and walked over to where the thing
that was his brother (but was more like a pickle at the moment) lay.

"Brother?" Al said and gently shook the figure.

"Huhwhuzit?" Ed grumbled at him.

"You're on your own," Al said and then he turned, carefully
navigated the phonograph land mines all over the floor and fled. He sincerely
hoped he would see his sibling alive again, someday.

"'kay bye!" Ed called merrily when he heard the door open,
then he sighed and closed his eyes again.


The sound that made Ed open his eyes again sounded like
a paperback rustling when it hit the floor. Ed blinked as the standing lamp
went on on the other side of the room. This was followed shortly by a crunching
noise, and Ed couldn't quite make out what that was, but he saw a figure looming
just about a foot away from him and he blinked hard to try and bring it into
focus.

Roy had stood a moment in shell shocked wonder at the
destruction before him. The living room was littered with books, a over turned
chess set, phonograph sleeves (PHONOGRAPH SLEEVES!) and various odds
and ends from all over the house. The coffee table was shoved to one side of
the room and the floor rug was rolled up at one corner. What appeared to be
his spare uniform was lying wadded up on the couch, so he crossed to the standing
lamp and flicked it on. The uniform moaned and moved. He started toward it,
felt his foot hit something and heard a distinct snap and crunch. He froze,
but didn't bother to look down.

The uniform shifted and sighed and then there was a flash
of paleness above the collar and he could see eyes, blinking rapidly in the
light. He took one more cautious step, and then he looked down to make
sure there were no more obstacles in his path. With fists clenched, he approached
the couch slowly and leaned over the figure there.

Edward blinked up at him, lips and cheeks positively rosy.
The boy had a rather unfocused look and he made a face, like he was trying to
puzzle out who Roy was, but then his brows lifted, his eyes lit up and he smiled,
two sleeve drenched arms raised toward him and the vision on the couch cooed.
"You're home!"

Roy almost forgot the wreckage that was his living room,
almost.

Roy had no words. He merely stared at the boy who wiggled
in delight with arms outstretched. He took another survey of the living room,
eyes tripping over his bar and the many, many bottles set out on it's counter.

He didn't.

Roy looked back down at Ed who was wriggling all over
the couch and trying to be enticing.

He did.

"Why wasn't Al watching you," Roy said plaintively, because
that had been the sole intention of getting the younger boy over to occupy his
brother, "I can't believe this, Ed." Roy reached down and caught Ed's hands
and winced a little when the automail clenched tightly.

"Al watched me," Ed purred, "I did my Colonel Spanky impression,"
Ed's head lolled back.

"Oh god, you didn't," Roy groaned.

"He thought it was funny, I guess, I don't remember,"
Ed said, being generally boneless.

Roy hefted Ed up and didn't so much as carry him as dragged
him down the hall toward the bedroom. Once there, he struggled to get the flailing
teen out of his uniform because Ed had become decidedly unhelpful.

"No, no," Ed said, flailing his arms and trying to escape
the Colonel's grasp, "let's play switch up, I'll be you and you be me!" he said
excitedly.

"I don't want to be you right now," the Colonel said,
finally getting the uniform jacket off over his head, "You're in a lot of trouble."

"Am I?" Ed said dazedly, "oh, then I don't want to be
me right now either, I'll be you, no I'll be Al, everyone loves Al," Ed slurred
then burped.

Roy shoved him down on the bed and grabbed the uniform
pants, but the fight had left Ed by then and he let Roy take them with no resistance.
When Roy went to hang the uniform back up, trying not to step on the clothes
scattered all over the floor, Ed managed to wiggle out of the boxers and shirt
he'd had on underneath the uniform, then the turned onto his stomach and wiggled
his butt in the air.

"Maybe I do wanna be in trouble," he giggled, "then Colonel
Spanky can come to visit."

Roy turned to make a scathing remark, but instead looked
at the butt being wiggled in his direction.

He's drunk and he's very, very relaxed.

Roy hung the uniform up then walked slowly over to the
bed. Ed heard him coming, giggled some more and grabbed a pillow, stuffing it
clumsily under his hips.

He's so relaxed and now he's horny.

Roy reached out slowly and ran his hand over Ed's upturned
ass and the boy moaned.

"I've been so naughty," he crooned.

Roy ran his hand in slow circular motions and Ed groaned,
humping against the pillow. Roy leaned forward slowly, bringing the hardening
bulge in the front of his pants against Ed and Ed pushed back, sighing.

He said I could, he's already given me permission,

Roy glanced over to a decorative bottle on the bedside
table, he had filled it with cooking oil because it looked better than the actual
cooking oil vessel. It was tantalizingly in reach.

"Colonel," Ed said breathlessly, arching his butt up to
Roy's touch.

Roy leaned over, got his hands on the bottle and opened
it.

"Roy," Ed moaned again and humped the pillow a couple
of times hard.

Roy opened the bottle, dipped his fingers in then sat
it down on the beside table, he kneaded Ed's ass cheek for a moment, then slipped
a finger in, no resistance at all. Ed threw his head back and sobbed and then
he tightened and humped the pillow again.

He wants it.

The second finger joined the first and Roy moved them,
scissoring them, stretching him. He pressed his thumb to the outside of the
ring and Ed shuttered and sobbed and called his name. Roy's other hand fumbled
at the fasteners on the front of his uniform trousers.

He's ready, he's ready for it.

He drew himself out and withdrew his fingers. Ed howled
in denial, but Roy got more oil, then returned his fingers to the boy, hushing
his cries. The other hand stroked over his own erection slowly, he was hot and
hard and throbbing, and he had been denied for too long. He leaned forward,
once again withdrawing his fingers and nudging the ring with the head of his
cock. Ed shook his head, thrust hard against the pillow under his hips and sobbed.
Roy's breathing became erratic he moved both hands to either side of Ed's hips.
The boy writhed and slammed his forehead against the bed. Roy's fingers tightened,
his chest heaved.

I can't!

But he was wound tight, he grit his teeth and pulled back,
the head of his cock trailed down the cleft of Ed's butt and he thrust between
two warm thighs. Ed's head popped up.

"Shut your legs, tight!" the Colonel ordered.

Even drunk, Ed seemed to catch his urgency and clamped
his thighs shut. It was warm, it was soft, it wasn't very tight, but it could
be enough. Roy started to thrust. He dug his fingers into Ed's hips and pressed
them as if to close them harder. Ed squealed and wiggled, bumped his ass into
Roy's lower stomach and chewed on the bed sheets.

I'm only flesh, only a man. Please Ed, mercy, mercy.

The Colonel's thoughts rolled, he thrust harder, heard
the sound of flesh slapping flesh, his own balls striking the back of Ed's thighs.

"Ah...AH," Roy threw his head back, eyes shut tight.

I can make myself believe...

Ed moaned loudly, unknowingly helping the Colonel along.

"Roy," Ed called, always so much more powerful than 'Colonel',
though in passion, both had their measures.

Roy pulled up on Ed's hips, lifting them from the pillow.
Ed yelled encouragement of the drunken nature, only vaguely aware of what he
was doing.

It's so... close... it's so...

Roy Mustang came between Edward Elric's legs, perhaps
not where he wanted to be, but for the first time ever anyway. He howled completion
to the ceiling, his lungs burned and his legs trembled. He collapsed on Ed's
back and heard the boy whoof out a huge breath at the weight. Then he heard
mumbles, both complaining and loving in their tone.

He hadn't taken advantage of his lover.

He would be able to sleep tonight.


Ed was miserably sick, on his knees and pressing his face
against cool porcelain. The Colonel, dressed for work, was leaning on the vanity
and looking at him. Earlier, the Colonel had been holding back his hair while
Ed heaved, but that was over it seemed, (thank someone, but god was right
out)
and he'd stood back while Ed panted and whined and looked up at him
blearily.

"I would say this is the only pleasure I'm getting out
of this whole fiasco," the Colonel said flatly, "but that would be cruel."

"Uh," Ed told him.

"And now I'm late for work, I'll add that to your bill,"
the Colonel said and pushed off the vanity.

"Uh," Ed said, and tried to sound pitiful.

"You tell your brother I'll have a talk with him too,"
the Colonel leveled at the blond before striding out of the bathroom, "And
I expect you at the office," he called back as Ed heard his footsteps fade down
the hall.

Ed couldn't recall most of last night. He recalled impressions
and images, but no actual events, and when he woke to the marching band in his
head and the Colonel's cool, brisk tones, he wasn't sure he wanted to.


After a bit, he managed a shower and felt somewhat more
Ed-ish. He looked curiously at the pile of the Colonel's clothes stacked on
the chair in the corner of the bedroom, and wondered what they were all doing
out instead of in the closet. He recognized his own blue shirt that Al had been
nagging him about, plucked it out of the pile and shrugged it on. He pulled
on the rest of his things, plucked up his black tank top and slung it over his
shoulder. He walked down the hall braiding his hair back and stopped dead in
the doorway to the living room.

The room was a disaster. His eyes tracked slowly from
one side to the other, he took a cautious step in. The Colonel hadn't had time
last night to deal with both Ed and the mess, so it still sat in the pristine
condition it had been left in. Ed felt his throat work, something on the floor
attracted his attention.

The Colonel's phonographs. They laid scattered about,
some half way under the couch, others out in plain view, one crushed and broken
near the end of the couch.

What did I do?

He started to bend over and pick the broken one up, but
he found he couldn't touch it.

Be careful, don't scratch it! A voice warned in
his head.

No wonder... no wonder.

He dropped the black tank on the end of the couch. He
would try to put as much right as he could, and he got to work cleaning.


When he did get into the office late that afternoon, he
was met by a stiff and cold object pretending to be the Colonel. It demanded
a debriefing, and it demanded a written report within a week like always, then
it proceeded to ignore him, finding the work on it's desk far more interesting
than the dejected object standing in front of it. After a few moments of uncomfortable
silence, Edward turned and left the office. He could go somewhere else and be
miserable, he didn't have to do it where that bastard could see him.

Al's company, as comforting as it always was, didn't lessen
his guilt either. It wasn't right to hear his younger brother stammer excuses
for his own behavior, so despite the good intentions his younger sibling meant,
it fell on ears turned inwards to his own guilty thoughts.

"I have to go for a walk," Ed told Al, "and think about
things."

Al had started to apologize again. He had been apologizing
since Ed walked in the door.

"No," Ed said, "you aren't responsible for my bad judgment
and you are not responsible for my actions, I'll have to work this one out on
my own," it felt uncomfortable to say that, to the person who'd always shared
the burden before.

"I understand," Al said, "what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Ed said, heading for the door, "grovel
if I have to, it's the least I owe him."

"Good luck," his brother said and Ed went out the door.


Fuck. Up. What was I thinking, what was I doing? I
will NEVER drink again, never, I am broken of that future bad habit, nothing
or no one will ever convince me that it isn't anything but a waste of time and
stomach contents.

He barely looked up at his surrounding, hands in pockets
and head down.

I can't believe I did that to his phonograph discs,
he's never going to forgive me. Ah Al, what am I going to do?

He looked up at the shops as he walked by, hoping for
inspiration.

Like I can buy my way back in to his good graces, he'd
never go for that. Who am I kidding? If I were him, I'd be tired of this by
now.

He shifted, uncomfortable with that thought.

Maybe he is.

His fingers worked over his pocket watch.

A half-machined freak, an eating machine, short tempered
and confrontational, insubordinate...
Ed rolled his eyes, and I can't...
can't swallow...

He shuddered and hunched his shoulders up and made a face.

Well, that's hardly my fault. It's gross and it makes
me want to gag. I better stop thinking about it.

He studiously ignored the stares from passersby as he
stuck his tongue out and make hacking noises.

I don't care if he does, it's not rude not to, I don't
care what that book of Al's had said.

Al sure has a lot of books on the subject.

A pretzel vendor ahead huddled under the large umbrella
of his stand as if afraid to be touched by the sun. Ed slowed a bit, eyed it.
The man stationed behind it grinned at him, wrapped a napkin around one of his
wares and held it up, turning it this way and that. Ed sucked his lower lip
and the man picked up a yellow container that Ed knew was mustard. He had the
mustard lovingly bump up against the pretzel. Ed stopped and his eyes glazed
a moment. He compared the pretzel to the tall lanky Colonel and the mustard
to the... other alchemist. He marched over and bought the damn thing, slathered
it with mustard and stalked off, eating it. Damn vendors, damn seductive food,
damn hard-on.

After a lemonade to wash down the pretzel and an ice cream
to get rid of the slightly bitter bite of the lemonade, he lingered at a newsstand,
flipping through a few magazines and reading the comics.

I am who I am, I can't help it. It's not like he didn't
know it when he decided he liked me. I wonder why he decided he liked me, he
always liked girls before, I should ask him. No, maybe that's pushy, I shouldn't
ask him. He better not say it's because I look like some damn girl!

He abandoned the newsstand and crossed the street to the
other side of the mezzanine; there were some gift shops there. Maybe he couldn't
buy his forgiveness, but it never hurt to try to suck up a bit before actually
begging for forgiveness.

His pace slowed at one particular shop, there was a phonograph
in the window. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, then went in.

Or maybe I can, I know there is something he wants
from me.

Ed shuffled awkwardly in front of a disc display, clueless
as far as the selection went. A shop clerk came over with a polite smile and
bent down to talk to him, he tightened his jaw and kept from snarling at the
woman, he did need her help, she could tell him what to get.


Alphonse Elric answered the door of his dorm room and was summoned to the phone
in the commons area. It must be Ed, calling to sigh heavily some more. He picked
up the receiver and put it to where his ear would have been, had he had them.
n reality he found he really didn't miss his all that much, he always thought
they stuck out too far.

"Hello?" he said.

"Alphonse," the Colonel said pleasantly.

Ambushed.

"Good afternoon Colonel Mustang, sir," Al returned politely.

"Good afternoon, I wanted to give you a call about yesterday,"
the Colonel said.

Al wondered if he could play dumb. It always worked well
for Ed, but it never seemed to work well for him. He would try and people would
make tsking noises at him or give him 'looks' and then felt guilty. He thought
it a little unfair that Ed could play dumb and get away with and he couldn't,
but then people yelled at Ed a lot more, and threw things at him sometimes.
Better to take his medicine.

"I tried to stop him I really did," Al rushed out, "but
he wouldn't listen! He got all liquored up and went on a rampage," the younger
Elric cried into the phone, "and he's little and hard to catch and before I
knew it, he was in the uniform! I tried to tell him, 'That's the Colonel's spare
uniform', but he said that you let him wear it, I think he was fibbing, but
I can't say that to my own brother, it's really rude! What could I do? You have
never said to me, 'Alphonse, don't let Ed wear my spare uniforms', so I couldn't
even make an educated guess, and then he told me that you were going to donate
all those phonographs to charity anyway, which I must say is very nice of you
because needy people need entertainment too, and when you called, he was already
asleep on the couch and he looked so cute in your uniform, I was afraid if I
woke him up he'd rampage some more! Then after you hung up I remembered that
I had left a book lying face down on the table open, and that's really bad for
its spine so I had to go."

The Colonel made a choked sound.

"Colonel, are you ok?" Al asked in concerned tones.

"I'm fine," the Colonel wheezed and made several other
stifled sounds. "thank you, Alphonse. I'll speak to you later."

"No sir, thank you, I know my brother is hard to deal
with sometimes, but he's got a good heart, and..." Al looked around to make
sure he was alone in the common room, "he really likes you," Al confided in
the Colonel.

"I really like him too," the Colonel returned, "and I'll
continue to like him after I wring his neck."

"A lot of people say that," Al said.

"Have a good afternoon, Alphonse," the Colonel said.

"And you too sir," Al replied and then hung up.

Alphonse Elric felt bad for offering his elder brother
up on a platter, but he'd panicked. He knew Ed would understand, he hoped Ed
would understand. He hoped the Colonel wouldn't tell Ed.


He stood out on the curb. He could see the living room
light was on, it had been on for a while, but the package under his arm didn't
make him any braver. He took a deep breath, walked up the walk, (wondered
briefly if he would have to run for his life down it again)
knocked on the
door and waited.

The Colonel opened the door, gave him the once over but
said nothing, then stepped by to let him in. Ed walked in and turned to look
at him, but there was no falling into his arms trustingly tonight. The Colonel
still resembled a Colonel shaped block of ice. That couldn't faze him, he deserved
it after all. He stood, chewing his lip. The Colonel said nothing, shut the
door, walked past him into the living room and returned to his book and his
chair and his glass of scotch.

Ed hovered in the living room doorway as if it were a
wall of indecision. He had wanted the Colonel to speak first, but the Colonel
wasn't going to make this easy on him, and he shouldn't. In a way, Ed had broken
his trust and Ed had wrecked a good memory they shared together, a memory in
the shape of a phonograph disc. He was ashamed of his hesitation and he stepped
into the room, walked resolutely to the Colonel's chair, took the package from
beneath his arm and offered it to the Colonel.

"I don't know if you'll like these," Ed said quietly,
"I wasn't even sure what to get, but the lady in the shop remembered you and
she said that you might like these."

The Colonel sat for a moment, looked at the proffered
package and then at the boy's face. It was a moment longer before he raised
his hand and took the package, setting his book aside and unfolding the paper
wrappings in his lap. He shuffled through the three discs a couple of times,
pausing to read something on the covers, then nodded his head.

"Thank you," he said, as if Ed had just handed in his
written report, then the Colonel stood and placed them into the wooden rack,
along with the others.

"I want to replace the one I broke," Ed muttered, "I would
try alchemy, but I'm not sure I can get the grooves right. I'll try, if you
want me to," he bit his lip.

The Colonel took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He took a step forward and put his arm around Ed's shoulders, drawing him against
his chest.

Ed wilted there and closed his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I don't know why I act
like I do sometimes, and I just keep doing things to you I have to apologize
for. You must be so tired of it by now, I know I would be," and he waited.

The Colonel kissed the top of his head.

"I was young once too Ed, and I have to take that into
account when dealing with you," he said, Ed stiffened up to protest but the
Colonel cut him short with a shushing sound, "Suck it up Edward, you're only
15, there are just different rules. It might make you mad, you might not like
it, but that's how it is. Being 15 and being a mature 15 is realizing
there is a difference."

Ed didn't like it, it did make him mad, but he wasn't
about to argue the point, not now when the Colonel was accepting his apology
and kissing the top of his head.

"Can I stay over then?" Ed asked.

"Please do," the Colonel said, "I'd like to do more than
hold you while you sleep or hold your hair while you're sick, I haven't seen
you for almost two weeks, you know. Your boyfriend has needs," he teased.

Ed pressed against him tighter.

"Good," he whispered, "because your boyfriend has needs,
too."


They were both panting heavily and grinning at each other
like fools.

"That was great," Ed husked out, "why didn't we think
of that before?"

"I don't know, I got all inspired for some reason," the
Colonel said, they both looked toward the dresser where the phonograph had finally
wound down.

"I wonder," Ed said, stretching in sated delight, "if
other people make love to music," he looped an arm over Roy's hip and tried
to pull him close.

"I don't know," the Colonel said, letting Ed tug him closer,
"but tomorrow night? Side two."

"I never knew I'd be such a fan of opera," Ed said.