Warnings: Weird-ness? I don't know. No sex, at any rate. No real spoilers (maybe if you squint while standing on your head . . . nope.)
Rating:K+ (because I just said "sex".)
Disclaimer: I will never own FMA.
Mask
There is something beyond the flaming gloves besides a weapon, something beneath the uniform besides a calculating militant in search of a promotion, and something behind those dark, narrow eyes besides arrogance. Even I have rarely seen it, and I have been by his side for more years than I care to admit. At one time, there was another that could see this strange being, but that one is gone, and I am the only one left who even knows it exists. The truth only leaks out in his moments of greatest weakness – for a bare second when a rainstorm starts, for nearly an hour after his best friend's funeral. There is substance behind the mask.
This man is what many would call a jerk. I ignore his skirt-chasing comments with petty disdain, allowing the other men of the military to indulge in his fantasies. My face shows no emotion despite the disgust I feel when he must sugar-coat his every word to dodge a demotion or to beg a favor. To many, he is a cruel bastard of a colonel, willing to do anything to move up a step on the ladder. To others, he is gorgeous, seductive, a flame of a human being. I would not follow him it this was all he truly was. I cannot honor pointless cruelty, insincere words, or blind lust. I respect only careful courage, the willingness to change the way things are, and the odd word of kindness.
In short, I respect Colonel Roy Mustang.
((A/N: This did not turn out the way I'd hoped. Maybe I'll redo it, but as it's been sitting in my disk for . . . yikes . . . like 3 months, I'd better just let it go now. Comments of all kinds welcomed.))