I got bored when my internet went down and still have very few ideas on what to do with Got Your Back, so had a little write of something diffrent instead that wasn't a series I'm working on (yes, there is more stuff being written, just really slowly)
When reading this, please bear in mind I have no idea what happens around this time in the manga (or even if it's in there at all) so forgive any errors in detail.
Disclaimer - I'm English, therefore not Hiromu Arakawa. However, I do have a blatant wish to attach my name to FMA in some form despite having nothing to do with the saga's creation/continuation, so if any officials reading this feel like adding my name to the credits, I'd be much obliged...
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Focus....
Focus....
Focus...
And snap!
Nothing. 16 year old Roy Mustang sagged slightly as the smallest hint of dejection washed over him; he had been outside practising every day for nearly two weeks now, and still he could make little more than the spark already produced by the ignition cloth. There was a trick to it, he knew – he had seen Master Hawkeye make huge fireballs without even pausing to think about it, so it couldn't be that hard. Right?
Soft laughter reached his ears and he swore under his breath before turning around with a smirk sliding onto his features as smoothly as water.
"Come to watch me become a god?" he winked as Master Hawkeye's daughter, Riza, approached him.
"A god?" she snorted. "How can you be a god if you keep forgetting it's the little things that lead to the bigger ones?"
"Huh?"
"Focus on your tools, and your goals will come to you," she smiled mysteriously, tapping the back of her hand before turning and walking over to a nearby tree.
"Again... Huh? Did your dad put you up to confusing me?"
"You're the god, you work it out," came the retort as she settled herself down with a thick book.
"Crazy blonde woman..." Roy muttered under his breath, trying to ignore her as he returned to his practise.
Focus....
Snap!
"Dammit!" Roy hissed, shooting a sideways glare at Riza; she wasn't reading that book at all, she was peering over the top of it and watching him closely. "Could you not do that please?"
"If you'd listened to what I said, you'd have done it then."
"Maybe I would, if you didn't keep speaking in tongues!"
"Just shut up and practise, Roy. And don't get angry, Father warned you about how that affects control of the reaction."
Roy rolled his eyes in response, turning his back to her to face the open countryside. Realising she was right (when wasn't she?), he laced his fingers together and stretched his arms out in front of himself, his back cracking softly in protest. His dark eyes fell onto the array on the back of his hand.
'Focus on your tools, and your goals will come to you.' Of course... Focus on the array, not making the flame...
He paused for a moment to study the circle again; it was designed to create optimum air conditions for fire, so in theory...
Focus...
Snap!
BOOM!
Roy stumbled backwards in surprise, unprepared for neither the ferocity of it nor the air two inches in font of his face exploding into huge flames.
"See?" he smirked, turning to face Riza with a triumphant smile. "Told you I could do it."
She merely stared at him for a few seconds before a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth and she began giggling uncontrollably. The dark-haired boy glared at her for a moment before realising what she was probably laughing at; gingerly he reached his un-gloved hand up to his forehead and poked around a bit.
He'd just burnt off his eyebrows. Wonderful...
"That really works for you – you should do it more often," Riza managed to gasp, before dissolving into more giggles.
"If you like it so much, I just might do," Roy winked at her, turning his back to her with a smirk; the girl instantly stopped her laughing, opting instead to glower darkly at him.
"You know, one day someone's going to kick you in a very valuable place."
"My head?" he asked innocently.
"You're impossible."
"Oh no... It's just your beauty distracts me so much that I can think of nothing dirty at all. Honest."
"...You're impossible."
"Well, I try."
"No, you're trying. And failing, if your eyebrows are any indication."
"Shut it, Squirt," he grinned, lifting his hand again and this time concentrating on where he wanted the air to change, instead of just changing it.
Focus...
Snap!
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Written because teen!Royai hasn't been attempted by me before (and I was bored with an asplodey brain, so serious writing was a no-go). Again, any ideas (even a single sentence or one-word prompt) for use in parental!RoyEd situations would be much appreciated.