DISCLAIMER
I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its affiliates.

I own this story and this story only.

Rating: M for Mature

Contains: yaoi, boy x boy, Edward Elric x Roy Mustang

Edward couldn't help looking up at the door before turning his back on it, kicking the wall, and resuming his pacing. It wasn't his fault! None of it was!

It wasn't his fault that his jacket had torn. It wasn't his fault that he'd tripped down the stairs, straight into Riza Hawkeye and Jean Havoc making out at the bottom of the stairwell. It wasn't his fault that Alphonse had lost his head twice after rescuing a whole clan of lost kittens. And it most certainly wasn't his fault that Colonel Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang had a black eye.

Well, not really.

He was thinking over the worst morning of his life when Hawkeye herself stepped out of Mustang's office and jerked her head. "He wants to see you," she said, voice expressionless. It was clear she hadn't forgiven him for that morning, if the remains of her blush were any indication.

Edward swallowed hard and pushed inside.

The colonel was sitting in his high-backed chair, facing the window so Edward couldn't see his face. Raising a shaking hand, he knocked very lightly on the door.

"I know you're there, Fullmetal," Mustang said airily. Without warning, he spun the chair around. Edward flinched away.

There was a nasty purple-red smear around the Flame Alchemist's right eye, nearly kissing his cheekbone and his temple, hardly hidden by the ice pack the pyro had pressed over his eye.

"What were you thinking?" was all he said.

Edward mulled this over.

~(FLASHBACK)~

The door slammed hard, making Black Hayate jump and yelp, darting under Hawkeye's legs. Stamping forward, Edward fingered the rip in his jacket as he snarled, "The hell do you want now, Mustang?"

"My, my, no need to be so feisty," Roy Mustang said cheerfully, snapping his fingers. The fireplace roared to life.

"Just tell me what the hell you called me here for!" Edward yelled.

Hawkeye tensed. Fuery, Brosh, and Falman half-rose from their chairs.

"Now I see where your height went, pipsqueak," Mustang said, smirking, closing his eyes and rocking his head back against his chair. "Now I understand why they say short people are short tempered."

Edward snapped.

He launched himself onto the desk, throwing himself at the colonel and scattering all his paperwork. He slammed into Mustang hard, throwing them both backwards, the chair crashing to the floor. Edward drew back his automail hand and struck the ravenette once, hard.

Fuery, Brosh, and Falman leapt forward and hauled Edward backwards, throwing him onto the coffee table and maintaining a defensive line in front of Mustang as he choked, gasping for air from Edward's surprise attack. Hawkeye rushed to his side. Black Hayate snarled at Edward.

The blonde went limp on the table, panting.

~(End Flashback)~

"You started it," he concluded.

There was a very long, very awkward silence.

"What's wrong, Fullmetal?" Mustang finally asked, sounding defeated. He lay the ice pack on the desk and leaned forward, hands clasped on the table, putting his weight on his elbows. "You wouldn't usually let one of those short jokes get to you like that."

Edward really didn't want to. He didn't mean to either.

He broke down in tears.

He went into a spluttering, sniffling explanation of his bad day and all of his frustrations about Scar and the Homunculus and the Philosopher's Stone and what was going on that was troubling him…

It was a good half hour before his sobs subsided and he fell onto the coffee table, face in his hands, shaking all over.

Mustang slowly walked to his side and bent at the waist, putting a hand on his shoulder. Edward looked at it, blushing light pink, before looking up at Mustang.

"You could have just said so instead of hitting me," he whispered, smiling.

Edward found himself leaning in, drawn into those dark eyes and the gentle smile.

He didn't mean to do this either.

He threw his arms around Mustang's neck and kissed him full on the lips.

After a shocked moment, he kissed back.

They embraced each other for a while before they broke apart, strands of each other's saliva clinging to their lips.

They gazed at each other for a moment before Mustang suddenly jerked away, whipping around and gripping his desk tightly.

"M-Mustang—"

"My office," he growled suddenly, shoulders rigid. "Six sharp."

"B-But…everyone else goes home at half past five."

"You heard me." He whirled around. "Six today."

The fire in his eyes chased Edward away.

~That Evening~

Edward raised a hand and knocked harder than he meant to.

"It's open, Fullmetal," he said.

Edward pushed in. Mustang was sitting on the edge of the table, rubbing his fingers together and watching the sparks dance across the air. He didn't look up.

"Lock it," he said. Confused, Edward did as he was told.

As the lock slid home, Mustang stood and turned to his desk.

"Colonel, about earlier," Edward blurted, feeling his eyes burn at the memory. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I d-don't know what came over me. I-I mean, hitting you was bad enough, but k-ki—" The word stuck and he choked a bit. "—doing that was just adding insult to injury and I didn't really mean to, so I'm sorry."

He took a big breath of air. Held it. Waited.

"Why?" Mustang asked.

"…Colonel?"

"Why?" He turned back to the blonde and strode toward him, putting both hands on the door on either side of his head. Edward fumbled for the door latch but it was locked and held fast.

"Why are you apologizing?" Mustang whispered. He touched their foreheads. Edward's breath caught. "Why are you saying you're sorry? You're so stupid!"

Edward's breathing sped up, and stopped altogether when Mustang kissed him again.

He threw his arms around the colonel's neck and kissed back, a tear falling down his cheek. Mustang pushed his tongue through the blonde's lips, angling the shorter's head. Edward moaned in his throat, trembling against the older man.

They broke away for air when the need became too great. Edward felt a cry building in his chest.

"Don't cry, don't, Fullmetal," Mustang whispered, kissing the tear track on his cheek. Edward whimpered.

"Stop, stop that," Mustang said, voice firmer. One of his hands cupped Edward's face gently.

Why was everyone so gentle with him? That pissed Edward off. He pushed against Mustang with as much force as he could muster. The pyro stumbled, knees striking the arm of the couch. Edward pushed him over backwards and hit on top of him, pinning the ravenette to the couch.

"Don't be gentle," he hissed, a tear hitting Mustang's blue jacket. "You don't know how long I've liked you, bastard."

"You don't want gentle?"

Edward landed on the floor hard with a grunt. Mustang pinned him down, pulling open his jacket and shirt at the same time, tearing off his own glove with his teeth, dropping it onto the floor.

The Elric brother gasped at the sudden cold. Mustang managed to get his jacket and shirt off, bending and biting his neck hard, sinking his teeth in deep.

Edward cried out. Mustang responded by pushing his bare hand into the shorter boy's pants. The blonde arched his back and gasped.

"You wanted hard," Mustang reminded him.

"Colonel… O-Oh, God…"

"Call me Roy, not Colonel," Mustang whispered. "You'll kill it."

Edward threw his head back, gasping softly. "Oh, God, it feels so g-good…" Every nerve in his body was alive with the new, strange feelings he was experiencing.

He and Mustang met lips again, this time with a new fervor. It didn't take long for the colonel to strip Edward naked, blowing a soft breath down his chest, earning a shivering young blonde under him.

"You still want me to go hard?" Mustang whispered, taking off his own shirt and military jacket. Edward looked down, pulling at the colonel's belt with the hand that wasn't entwined in Mustang's short black hair. He looked back up with adoring golden eyes.

"I don't want to be the only one naked," he whispered. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know how to ask.

Mustang threw the first punch.

"What do you want, Ed?" he whispered back, but taking off his belt and jeans anyway.

"I w-want you," he stammered, face heating up. "I want you…to take me," he tried again. He winced. "I…Roy, I don't know…"

By this time the colonel was completely naked. He rose up on his knees and pulled Edward into his arms, gently setting the blonde on his back on the couch before crouching over him again, gentler this time.

"Try again, uke," he whispered. "Try again."

Edward took a deep breath. "I want you to do me," he finally said, kissing the colonel's lips gently. "I want you to take me. Please, seme. Please."

"It's going to hurt," Mustang warned.

"I don't care," Edward replied, both arms going around the black-haired man's neck. "I've had automail attached. I can handle a bit of pain."

Mustang smiled at his uke. "Ok," he said, and began preparing the blonde as gently as he could.

~The Next Morning~

I don't want to wake up. I want to stay in this warmth forever.

Is that his hand on mine? Is that his warmth on my skin?

Is this real? Or am I still dreaming?

I hope this is real.

Edward pressed his eyes tighter together, curling up tighter. He had the strong smell of sweet cinnamon, slight smoke, and a pleasant aftershave in his nose. A heartbeat was pulsing against his back. He snuggled closer to the warmth.

The source shifted very slightly, one warm limb going around his torso, the other hand squeezing his. Edward forced his sleepy eyes open.

He could see their reflection in the window. Mustang was still asleep, his head bowed against Edward's soft golden locks. One arm was wrapped around his firm chest, the other hand underneath the smaller boy's torso, and automail and flesh were intertwined in a mess of fingers and palms.

Edward squeezed his hand and pulled it closer to his chest, watching their reflections. There was a soft, worn quilt draped over them both, tucked tightly around the two alchemists. His own golden eyes shone as they studied Mustang's face.

He's so peaceful when he's asleep.

Edward brought the back of his hand to his lips, pressing it against his mouth and closing his eyes, lashes tickling the man's fingers.

~Roy~

He's holding on, he isn't letting go. It's like he thinks I'm going to slip away if he releases my hand.

You don't have to worry, uke. I'm here.

Mustang was aware of Edward pressing closer, of his automail hand tightening on his own. He, without opening his eyes, smiled very slightly and kissed his uke's head.

They were still both naked, legs overlapping and interlocking. They were aligned perfectly, as if they were made for each other.

"Edward," he whispered in the boy's ear. "Edward, are you awake, uke?"

"Yes, seme."

He kissed the boy's jaw. "Are you sore?"

"Yes."

"Will you be okay?" Mustang teased lovingly.

"No," Edward said, turning to face the black-haired man. "Kiss it and make it better.

"That can be arranged…" 3