A/N:
Right.
Here's the deal this time: I would really, really love to finish this, but am finding it hard to find the time. Not to mention, as I said before, I also desperately need to revamp this. In fact, you may notice the bettered wording I've already added.
This chapter is not a 'real' chapter, because it will go (probably) in the editing process. I still intend to keep most of this in the story, but I want to begin it differently. This chapter is up so my story will not entirely disappear and so I see this and feel guilty every time I log in (because that is what will force me to actually work on this).
Anyway, I would love for this one to be done. As it is, I have another one-shot (30 pages) called A Dance for Two which is nearly finished and caters to the same fandom (Roy/Ed), though it is most definitely AU—but please don't let that scare you away. I am stuck only on the sex scene right now.
Imagine that.
Soon as that's done, it'll be up. As always, I thank you so, so much for all the patience you have for me, and encourage you to look at my blog (which can be found linked on my profile) if you have any interest in my writing. I've a few shorts up there—actual fiction, though, not FanFiction.
Anyway, here it is (without the missing words—and quite a few added as well).
Chapter 1: Mounting the Mustang
Edward Elric was beautiful—not handsome: beautiful, however masculine. At seventeen years of age, he measured at 5'6". Yes, he had matured quite a bit these last two years. His somewhat childish face had lengthened and become more angular; and the boy's eyes were narrowed, proffering his veiled, thoughtful gaze to the world and keeping his true knowledge of his observations hidden. His torso and legs were lean, muscular and well-toned and his hair fell to his middle-back, though he still kept it pulled back in his customary golden braid.
Although there was something distinctly feminine about him, it was obvious he was not, in fact, female; and it was a rare occasion that someone would honestly mistake him for a girl (or a ponce, though this is more likely due to the fact that the speaker would probably know well enough that such an insult would not go unpunished, and therefore withhold the gibe). His costume, also, remained the same; he still wore his leather pants, tank, and the trademark red cape which had made him seem so imposing while the Elric brothers quested for the Philosopher's stone. Al's body was whole now; and Ed, it seemed, had not been forced to part with anything in return.
Edward had truly grown to be a healthy, beautiful, desirable male; and Roy Mustang, the military's finest womanizer, was not adverse to that fact in the least.
The boy in question was currently seated on the leather couch in Mustang's office, arms and legs crossed, a look of bored disinterest on his face. At some point in the past few years, Edward had learned to suppress his feelings and cool his temper. It was still there, but most found it rather difficult to incur the boy's wrath; once you had, however, he was deadly. The childish anger he had once possessed was much harder to provoke these days. The colonel, it seemed, was the only one who could still bait him properly; a fact that Edward had been loathe to admit to himself. He also begrudged the fact that Mustang—whether intuitively or not—seemed to know more about him than a lover would.
His superior's name and the word 'lover'—along with it's implications—thought in the same sentence, caused a familiar heat to rush through his body, pitting somewhere in his nether regions. Damnit, Ed thought, but kept his body controlled. No blush lit his cheeks, and he did not uncross his legs, making sure his body language did not alert the man of his condition. He had dealt with the lust for the last two years, and would continue to suppress it. This all-too-strong desire was one of the main reasons he had worked so diligently on perfecting his self-control.
He had hoped that as time went on and he matured the attraction he felt would fade. Unfortunately for him, it had only grown more intense with each year's passing. He had never acted—despite his attraction—as though anything were out of the ordinary. To an outsider—and, hopefully, to Roy—Edward felt the same as he had when he first met the man. Anger remained still the only emotion the colonel received from him. Ed only hoped he wasn't overcompensating. But forcing (or seducing) Mustang into any kind of more-than-professional relationship was absolutely out of the question; the man did not need any complications if he was planning on a promotion.
Edward, like Hawkeye and the others in the unit, had resolved to work under Mustang, and to push him forward. At first, he'd feared the sudden devotion he realised he had for the dark-haired man was the result of his adolescent crush. But he knew better now. He was loyal to the bastard (yes, he was still a bastard) because Roy gave him every reason to be. He was kind, though he hated to show it, he cared for his men and always looked after their safety and health, and he was completely devoted to his own cause. Roy had every intention of taking Hakuro's place in the seat of power and righting all the wrongs people had suffered from under Bradley and Hakuro's reign.
Yes, Roy was one of the few reasons he had returned to Central. Well, that, and the fact that Edward was in no way suited to the quiet life in Resembool he and Alphonse had tried to make for themselves. Al—with his quiet, easy-going personality—had fit in perfectly fine with Winry and Auntie Pinako, and all the childhood friends they'd left behind, but Ed had only craved the action and—dare he admit it—attention he enjoyed while tied to the military. Four years of mission after mission, constantly moving in their search for the Stone had taught Edward to be on his toes at all times. With the sudden lack of danger looming in the distance, his reactions had grown slower and less effective. After a month of useless sparring and lazing about, Ed realised he no longer knew what to do with himself.
So, he had stayed—or, rather, returned to the military, which ensured he was kept busy and paid—though not so much as he would like. Despite the pay—which was still enough to help Edward build a rather impressive personal library, the golden-haired young man had resolved to work under the object of his affections as long as he could (no matter how often his common sense warned him it was a bad idea), determined to fight for the man and protect him. Unbeknownst to Roy, Ed's infatuation had caused him to become one of his most faithful subordinates.
Looking up to see Roy watching him expectantly, he started, realising the Colonel was waiting for a response; and, of course, being caught up in his thoughts, Ed had failed to hear the question.
"Sorry; what did you say?' He shook his head slightly, as if to shake the cobwebs from his mind, berating himself silently. If he did not stop reflecting so much on his past, he would be certain to develop an ulcer—Al had said as much to him after reading some illuminating science journal.
"I repeat myself then, Major. Your report is far too vague." Ed sighed, knowing what would come next. "You will be expected to redo it."
He felt his anger flair slightly at the thought of sitting in front of the typewriter again and meticulously impressing each key, but dismissed it. "Yes, sir." He stood, waiting to be excused.
"Also, Major." He held one of Ed's gloves out to him. "I believe this is yours." Edward recognised it immediately and replied with a hasty 'thank you' as he reached for the glove. Roy, of course, refused to give up his prize so easily and, at the last minute, jerked the glove into the air; too high for the boy to reach. Roy's grin was positively evil and Edward wondered if he'd really just been telling himself not to jump the man for his own protection, when after pulling shit like this, Roy really deserved to get his. He looked up at the glove and calculated the height, distance and a rough estimate regarding the force his legs could produce and gravity's negating effect concerning his weight.
Well, he could jump for it…
"Damn you." Ed's cold glare did not faze the man in the least; rather, it brought a familiar amused smirk to his lips. The boy calculated and eventually decided that jumping, however unorthodox, would be the only way to claim his possession. He leapt, and Roy lifted it higher. Not that it mattered, for that one second airborne had been enough. Edward lost his balance, despite all his attempts to find stability, and successfully collided into Roy, bringing them both down to the floor with a loud thump!
"You're heavier than you look." Roy commented dryly once he'd recovered his breath as Ed opened his eyes and lifted himself up onto all fours.
"It's my automail, damnit, and I don't think you are the one to be complaining about weight, you over-stuffed, gluttonous…" Ed snapped in response and was full ready to continue to argue, but his speech trailed off as he realised how their position would look to anyone who walked in the door. He supported himself on his hands and knees, his hands on either side of Roy's head and his knees at Roy's hips, effectively straddling his superior officer. Put quite frankly:
He was mounting the Mustang.
And, of course, as soon as he had realized this, his body reacted in a most unacceptable manner.
He felt the rush of desire spread through his veins, his body burning with an intensity that would not be cowed or ignored. Edward prayed his obvious need would remain unnoticed; but, for all his control, he still had to fight to keep the lust out of his eyes, and defiantly looked anywhere but the colonel, pitting his glance somewhere off to the right, fearing the blood rushing to his groin had also coloured his cheeks. Roy noticed this aversion, but did not comment, feeling too uncomfortable at the moment himself to tease the youth or even respond to his obvious slight regarding Roy's figure.
Suddenly, as though she knew what was going on and had decided to come barging in at the worst possible moment, Lieutenant Hawkeye stalked into the room, gun bared and eyes blazing, looking as though she was prepared to shoot her procrastinating superior.
"Sir, is your paperwork—"
She fell silent when she saw the two of them on the floor. Edward mastered himself and forced his eyes to meet his commanding officer's, a façade of cool indifference slipping into place immediately, seamlessly masking the discomfort and awkwardness that had yet to leave.
"I was just leaving, Lieutenant." He crawled off the man cautiously and stood. Then, against his better judgement, offered his flesh hand to the colonel. After a moment of consideration, the man's warm palm enveloped it, and the need he had previously struggled to ignore flared up again—literally. Needless to say, he let go as soon as the man had stood. He backed away, standing half at attention like a good little subordinate, still holding his hand out. His superior looked confused, and Edward sighed. "My glove, Colonel." He saw a spark of realisation light behind the man's eyes and Mustang offered him his glove. There were no jokes this time; the mood had been ruined for any kind of light quibble, whatever it may be. Edward took it almost solemnly, doing his best to avoid touching Roy's hand, and stood in place, waiting to be dismissed for the second time that day.
"You are excused, Fullmetal." Roy seemed to have recovered his senses. At least, enough that he could function properly again.
"Colonel." Edward bowed low, showing respect for the man's title—not the man himself—Mustang knew. He straightened and turned to leave the office.
"Oh, Major." The youth paused at the door, knowing he would not like this parting comment. "Don't forget that report."
"Yes, sir," he growled, his anger for once getting the best of him in his bothered state, and he made a show of stalking out the door, slamming it shut rudely behind him.
Roy met the eyes of an expectant Riza and sighed. He had no desire to explain what had just happened, not knowing himself. "Paperwork," he began, seating himself. "Yes. Yes, I'll get right on it." He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the door Edward had just exited, and Hawkeye knew she was being dismissed. "Lock it behind you, please, Lieutenant." She complied, and upon hearing the lock tumble into place, Roy dropped his head into his hands, his body trembling slightly with nerves, betraying his mind's commands. As the tremors moved through his body, he found himself repeating one phrase over and over in confusion as he tried to force his body—mainly his lower half—to still so he could think about work rather than how beautiful Elric had looked as he leaned over him, flushed and bothered in all the right ways.
What the bloody hell was that?