A/N: Okay, back story: this is more or less a challenge fic. The challenge, being "Write an EdRoy Valentine's Day fic, was issued to the four of us (myself, hanjuuluver, Jane Austen Girl, and Happy Moogle Mustang) by...well, me actually. Jane Austen Girl has hers up already, hanjuuluver's needs to be edited by me and will be, I swear, by the end of the day, and Roy's (HMM) is a work in progress. As for me...I got attacked by viscous plot bunnies last night! I sat down after dinner, started writing, and couldn't stop until midnight - which was kind of nice, because usually it takes me an eternity to work out an entire story, result being that I never ever finish it. But this one went well. And then the Gods decided to have mercy on me, so that, instead of having to go to class a sleep-deprived (well, more sleep-deprived) zombie, we got a snow day. I love nature. Even if I do have to shovel the drive. Anyway, this is so so unimaginably fluffy, so enjoy it.

Disclaimer: If I did own FMA, there would have been a Valentine's Day Special episode involving much yaoi fluff. I don't see it. Do you?

Side Note: just so we're clear, this happens at some point after episode 51. Al is human. Ed is on the right side of the Gate, but he still has automail. Roy didn't lose an eye. Episode 25? Forget about it. Why, you ask? Because I say so.

From Someone Who…

Valentine's Day was not Edward Elric's favorite holiday. He didn't hate it as much as, say, Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or Easter, or his birthday, or Mother's Day, or any other holidays that had to do with a) God, or b) family, but he was certainly not fond of it.

As far as he was concerned, it was an utterly useless holiday; girls used it to blackmail their partners into giving them useless junk, one was confronted by the irritating sight of couples making out around every corner, and it seemed designed to make those who didn't have a lover feel miserable and lonely. (1)

That he was always one of those alone on Valentine's Day didn't matter. Really. His desire to abolish Valentine's Day forever stemmed only from humanitarian sources, damnit! All that love business was overrated, anyway; Ed viewed it primarily as something to be guarded against all costs, as he would anything that threatened to distract him from his work. He was far too busy to think about getting involved with another like that.

And even if he had been interested in someone, he didn't have much of a chance, really, so it didn't matter…

Regardless of his motivations, however, the important fact remains; Ed did not like Valentine's Day, and this one was no exception. Before he had fully awakened, he had already mapped out a plan for the day that consisted, essentially, of hiding in his personal emo bubble, steadfastly avoiding anyone who might be in a position to remind him of the holiday.

This might be why he was already sitting at the small table in his and Al's dorm room, starting his second cup of coffee, before he noticed that there was an envelope on the table.

"Al!" he shouted, although his brother was only in the small bathroom getting dressed, and probably could have heard him if he'd talked normally, "Do you what this thing on the table is?"

The door cracked open, and a damp sandy head appeared. "I don't know what you're talking about, brother. Maybe someone came in why we were sleeping?"

"But you would have…oh, right," Ed sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "I'm brilliant, Al, I keep forgetting you can sleep now…"

"Have you opened it yet?"

"No," Ed said. "I'm still trying to figure out how the damn thing got here."

Al crossed the small room and sat down on the other side of the table. "Well, open it already. I want to know what it is, brother!"

Ed smiled. "Alright, alright, already!" Using the edge of a steel thumb, Ed slit open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

Edward,

It's customary to give gifts to the person one cares for on Valentine's Day, or so I've heard. I don't suppose you know it, but the person I care for is you. I didn't think you'd want something romantic, though, so I decided to start practical. I've noticed lately that you've been limping as if your boots were too small. You must be growing. I hope these fit a little better.

Happy Valentine's Day

From someone who loves you

PS: Why exactly does Fullmetal need to wear steel-toed boots?

Ed refolded the letter and looked down, dazed; at his feet, where he had failed to notice them, were a new pair of black boots. But who on earth had been watching him closely enough to observe that his old boots were starting to pinch his feet (well, foot)?

"Well, brother? What does it say?" Al's voice broke into his thoughts. Ed wordlessly handed over the letter and watched Al's eyes grow larger and larger as he read.

"Brother! You have a secret admirer! Who do you think she is? What are you going to do? Are you going to try to find her?" Al gushed.

"It's probably just somebody's idea of a joke, Al," Ed said patiently. "I'm not going to do anything, except finish breakfast and go to the library to do some research. Are you coming?"

Al blushed. "I, um, that is, I mean…"

"You have a date with Winry, don't you?"

Al nodded. Ed reached across the table and ruffled his hair. "Have a good time, okay? I'll see you later."

He briefly considered leaving the boots, as a sign to whoever had left them that he wasn't interested and didn't think the joke was very funny. His old boots were really starting to pinch, though, and he was getting sick of having his foot rubbed raw and blistered, so he reluctantly pulled on the new pair, finding, somewhat to his disappointment, that they were a perfect fit.

When he left his room, Ed really was planning to spend the rest of the day working and passionately avoiding thinking about his "secret admirer" (more like stalker, in his opinion – how else would they know his shoe size?) However, this was clearly not what God, if he had believed in God, had in mind.

His time in the library started quietly enough. The massive room was nearly deserted, aside from the librarian and her assistant; it seemed that most people felt they could find better ways to spend Valentine's Day than surrounded by stacks of dusty books (2). Ed found a corner where any meanderers were unlikely to bother him, piled a stack of texts around him, and soon lost himself in Paracelsus' Theorems on Transmutation of Living Beings (3). Dry, and the man made some errors in reasoning, but Ed found a few ideas that were sufficiently intriguing to keep him engrossed.

After about an hour of reading however, Ed looked up to find the librarian's assistant hovering over him looking terrified.

"Did you need something?" He asked her. "I'm trying to get some research done." Never let it be said that Ed liked being interrupted.

'I'm sorry to interrupt you, Fullmetal sir," she squeaked, "But someone came to the desk and told me to give this to you." She thrust out a small package wrapped in plain brown paper.

"Oh," he said. "Thanks. Is that all?"

She nodded and fled, obviously relieved to be escaping the wrath of the notoriously hot-tempered alchemist.

Ed unwrapped the package carefully, as though afraid it might burst into flames at any moment. What he saw underneath the paper…well, it confused him, actually. It appeared to be a book, but a quick glance revealed no title on the thin leather cover or the spine, and a second glance exposed a distinct lack of words anywhere in the book. Why would anyone give him a blank book? It was just odd.

When he flipped through the pages, however, an envelope fell out. It looked identical to the one he had found on his table, though that wasn't saying much; it was just an ordinary white envelope, the sort office workers stole on a regular basis, with no address or identifying mark anywhere. He opened it slowly and unfolded the letter inside.

Edward,

You probably weren't expecting to get another gift from me, were you? Well, I'm still trying to show you how I feel about you, so here it is. This one is a little more serious though. I'll never ask you to throw out your research notebook; god knows I've got things I can't afford to let go of either. But that book is full of the past; you need one that has room for the future.

Happy Valentine's Day

From someone who wants to help you remember better things

The librarian's assistant was very lucky she had already fled; one look at the alchemist's face now and she would have fainted in fear. Really, Ed thought, this had definitely crossed the boundary between irritating secret admirer stalker and creepy pervert stalker. Actually, this had crossed quite a few lines, one of them being the lines that sharply divided Ed's private life from everything. If it was supposed to be a joke, Ed wasn't laughing.

By the time he reached the dining hall, Ed's fury had cooled somewhat, but he was still seriously put out. It did not help that, in the hallway between the library and the dining hall, he passed no less than five couples in various degrees of making out. After buying his lunch and digging all the way to the bottom of the large communal cooler to find something that wasn't either beer or grape soda (Ed sometimes thought he would never understand the military mind), he slammed his tray down on the table where he sat almost every time he came to the dining hall.

The tray narrowly missed crushing another envelope and a long slender box. Ed swore loudly and in six different languages, until every eye in the cafeteria was directed at him.

"Bad day, Ed?" asked a voice behind him, a voice that he recognized instantly, even without having a dozen pictures shoved in his face accompanied by a loving squeal.

"You're damn right I'm having a bad day, Hughes! Some psycho's been stalking me all day, leaving presents and bizarre love notes for me! I swear, if I ever find this girl, I'm going to transmute her into a chipmunk!"

Hughes raised his eyebrows. "What kind of presents?"

"This morning there was a pair of boots by my chair, and then in the library I got a blank notebook, and now there's…this!" He pointed dramatically at the box on the table.

"What is it?" asked Hughes.
"I don't know! I haven't opened it yet!"

"Why not?"

"I don't know! Because I was too busy yelling at you!" Ed abruptly found himself shoved back down into his chair, with a box and an envelope thrust into his hands. This time, he opened the envelope first, just for a change of pace.

Edward,

I hope it doesn't bother you that the third gift is so traditional for Valentine's Day. I know you don't like the holiday, but I thought that you probably wouldn't refuse free food, and especially not free chocolate. I tried to pick some you would like, though, just so you will know that I really did think about you, instead of using chocolate as a cop-out.

Happy Valentine's Day

From someone who hopes you don't mind clichés if the feelings are real

When Ed opened the box, he found, as expected, chocolates; not, however, the usual cheap, generic, a few of every kind, most of them with nuts, and never enough of the good ones, Valentine's chocolate, but good, expensive chocolate, clearly picked out by someone who knew what he liked – there were no nuts, but there was a lot of dark chocolate, caramel, ginger, and orange (4). Ed wondered briefly if he could continue to be freaked out by scary stalker girl and still eat the chocolates, and concluded that he could; he immediately stuffed three of the chocolates in his mouth, so as to enjoy as much as possible before he had any second thoughts.

"So, are you going to let me read the letter, or are you just going to sit there and stare at it?" Hughes asked him.

Ed gave him as much of a glare as he could with his mouth stuffed full of chocolate, but grudgingly handed him the letter, as well as the other two he had received. Hughes read them rapidly, eyes skimming over the words as a broad, slightly silly smile spread across his face, quite similar to the one he wore when talking about Gracia and Elysia.

"Ed, that's so romantic!" he exclaimed.

"More like creepy," Ed grumbled. "It's starting to make me paranoid. I can't figure out how this girl knows where I am all the time, and how she knows everything about me. I don't like it."

Sighing dramatically, Hughes replied, "You really have no sense of romance, do you, Ed? I mean, this person is obviously madly in love with you! It's a wonderful thing! You should be happy, not trying to turn it into a conspiracy."

"Whatever, Colonel. You really are deranged, did you know that? I'm going back to my room to rest for a while. I'll see you later." With much clattering of plastic, scraping of chairs, and stomping of boots, Ed stood to leave. He never even glimpsed the hand Hughes slipped into his pocket, or the devious grin that spread across the man's face.

Halfway to his room, Ed remembered that Al would be gone on his date with Winry, and the dorm room would be locked. He reached into the pocket of his coat to find his room key; instead, his fingers met the stiff paper of an envelope and a small box.

"How…?" He asked aloud. "Damn. Hughes." The man must have slipped it into his pocket in the dining hall while he wasn't looking; he was just sneaky enough to try something like that. Lifting the lift of the box, Ed saw a short, thick chain made of silver and studded in several places with small red stones. It was beautiful, although he was baffled by its purpose; it was too long to be a bracelet, but too short to be a necklace. He opened the envelope, hoping the letter would have a clue as to what he should do with this thing.

Edward,

I wanted to buy you something expensive and beautiful; you deserve it. Jewelry wouldn't suit you, and you'd probably get mad at me, but when I saw this, I immediately thought of you, and I knew it was perfect. Just like you, it's exquisitely beautiful, but it's also practical; it's meant to be used, not hidden away in a case for special occasions. As for the stones, I wish I could give you the real Stone and make all your dreams come true; but I don't think you'd want me to do that, so you'll just have to settle for these.

Happy Valentine's Day

From someone who thinks no one has ever been more beautiful than you

PS: In case you don't know (and I won't blame you, or tease you about it), it's a chain for your pocket-watch.

Ed's eyes widened as he read this letter. This was getting disturbing. Boots and notebooks were one thing; an expensive piece of jewelry (even if it was a watch chain) was something else altogether. It was a bit scary to think that someone felt strongly enough about him to buy something like that; who knew what they would do if Ed rejected them? Not to mention that Ed didn't feel at all comfortable with this kind of expensive gift; it jarred against his ideas of Equivalent Exchange to think he was getting this with nothing expected in return. He just didn't buy it.

He did, however, take a few seconds to pull out his pocket watch, slip off the old steel chain the military had given him, and attach the new chain before putting it away again.

Ed fervently hoped that this would be the last gift of the day. He didn't think his nerves could take anymore.

Have we mentioned already that God, on this particular day, was demonstrating his dislike of short, foul-mouthed, and hot-tempered young alchemists?

As Ed supposed he should have expected, there was an envelope sitting on the table when he entered his dorm room. This time, however, there was no package; instead, a huge bouquet of flowers in a graceful vase filled the room with a riot of color – red roses, white lilies, sprays of things Ed couldn't name in gold and pink and lavender. Ed thought about leaving the flowers and the envelope and just walking out of the room again, but his arms and legs seemed to move without him, carrying him to the table, picking up the envelope, and opening it against his will.

Edward,

This is the last letter, and the last gift I have for you. Anything else I tried to give to you would seem superficial, material, pointless, and I don't want you to think you mean so little to me. So instead, I'll just tell you that I give you myself, and all the love I have for you.

Love is enough: though the world be a-waning,
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the skies be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over,
Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter:
The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.(5)

I hope my love can be enough for you, Ed.

Happy Valentine's Day

From someone who loves you

Ed threw himself down on his bed. This was absolutely, completely and utterly insane. Who in hell could be writing this stuff? Who would try to do this? Did he know anyone who felt that strongly about him? Why was this happening?

Then, as it so often does, the light bulb came on.

Ed was leaning back in the chair behind his desk when Mustang walked into his office, and Ed noted with satisfaction the slight look of shock that flashed across Mustang's tightly controlled face.

"How nice to see you, Fullmetal. Did we have a meeting today?" The older man asked coolly, waiting in the doorway for Ed to vacate his seat.

"No," said Ed. "I just came by to see how you were enjoying the holiday." He stood up, stretching slowly, to demonstrate that he was only moving because he wanted to, and not because Mustang expected him to.

"It's going well," replied the colonel, sinking into his chair. "I've already had six girls give me their numbers. Are you having a good Valentine's Day?"

"Not so much, Bastard Colonel."

Mustang cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? What's the problem? No dates?"

Ed growled. "No. Somebody has been stalking me all day."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't have to sound so skeptical, bastard. Somebody has been following me around, leaving me love letters and weird gifts."

"Well," said Roy calmly, pulling a stack of paperwork from his inbox, "I hope you find whoever it is. Good luck."

"I don't need it," Ed answered. "I already found him."

He saw Roy's head jerk up in surprise. "How did you figure out it was me?" he asked.

"Easy. You're the only person I know who ever tries to prove that he's omniscient, and knows every move I'm going to make."

Ed smirked triumphantly.

"You really have issues, Colonel. I mean, screwing with my head is one thing, but I can't believe you set up this whole elaborate scheme, wrote out the letters, and spent all the money on the gifts just to trick me into thinking that someone is in love with me. It's unbelievable."

"Well, you caught me, Ed. I hope you enjoyed my little joke," Mustang said, laughing softly.

That was what his mouth said. But Ed was looking at his face, and to his dismay, his eyes said something completely different – "You didn't believe it?" The hurt and disappointment were only there for a second before he covered them up again, but Ed knew what he'd seen.

The color drained from his face. "Oh damn," he said under his breath. "Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Not so much under his breath.

"Ed?"

"You really meant it," he said, half to himself. "All those things you said in the letters, you really meant it. You really feel that way about me."

Ed ran his fingers through his hair. "Equivalent Exchange," he said.

"What are you talking about, Ed?" demanded Roy.

"If you really felt like that, if you really…love me, then writing the letters was a sacrifice. I have to give you something in return."

"Ed, you don't have to –" Ed brushed him off, and began digging frantically through his coat pockets.

"Damn, I know I have it somewhere, where is it?" he muttered. Finally, his fingers touched crisp paper and he pulled it out with a gleeful exclamation. Then he remembered what it was he was holding, and his joy vanished. Without looking at Roy, he asked softly, "Are those papers very important, or would you might if I used them?"

Roy handed him the papers silently. Ed turned his back to the man, saying, "I don't want you to watch, okay?"

There was the sound of clapping, and the glow of a transmutation filled the room. Ed turned back around.

"I wasn't actually planning on giving this to you," he said, managing to sound both embarrassed and angry at the same time. "But since you made me…damnit, just take it."

Roy studied the large square of paper intently. Most of the page was filled with a delicate ink drawing. The subjects were easily recognized as him and Ed; they both sprawled across the ground, side by side, barely touching but clearly in contact. The words scrawled in Ed's messy handwriting across the bottom of the picture said "And in my darkest hour, the brightest flame draws near to me." (6)

The other object Ed had handed him was a bouquet of flowers, which explained the transmutation light he'd seen. They were small and delicate and pale as paper, except at the very center, where they were streaked with red.

"They're not much," Ed said. "If somebody had given me more time, I might have been able to come up with something a little nicer, but…"

"They're perfect, Ed," Roy told him.

Ed smiled. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Notes of Extreme Pointlessness and Randomness, as well as a few things you probably do want to know:

1) Okay, so I don't like Valentine's Day either, for all of Ed's reasons (although without the desire to be involved with a certain colonel). I still wrote you Valentine fluff, didn't I?

2) Personally, I can't think of a better way, but I'm an English geek. What do I know?

3) My version of a bad joke. Paracelsus was a famous 15th Century Alchemist who lived in Europe and contributed a lot to the study of medicine, including the ideas of letting wounds drain and heal rather than cauterizing with oil or amputating, and using chemicals in medicine. His real name was: Phillip von Hohenheim, before he changed it to Philippus Theophrastus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim, and then Paracelsus. Hence the joke. I made up the book title though, because I couldn't find any real ones.

4) Dark chocolate is godly and wonderful. No arguments. I wouldn't kill for it, but I would probably maim. Jane Austen Girl is always bringing chocolate with ginger (she just has a thing for ginger actually; it really terrifies hanjuuluver for some reason); that stuff is good, but not as good as dark chocolate with candied citrus peel.

5) I wish I had written this, but no. This poem, entitled "Love is Enough," was written by William Morris, who according to Wikipedia, was an English poet in the 1800's and part of the Pre-Raphaelite Art Movement. Thank you Ms Davey for making me think I had to TAG this, and thank you Mr. Betsch for cramming art history into my brain, so that I actually know what a Pre-Raphaelite is (and that I really liked them. Yay Millais! Yay Rossetti!). I found the poem at http:// judithpordon. tripod. com/ poetry/ id78. html. Thank you.

6) The picture I had in mind was somewhat of a combination of the fanart Sinful Contact (on Deviantart) and Deus Ex Machina (on Photobucket); I don't know the artists, so I apologize for not citing them. The line at the bottom I saw on another piece of fanart on Deviantart, and alas, I don't know the artist for that either. My apologies.

A/N: Wow. It's been a long time since I've written something quite that fluffy! It didn't even slip into flangst - just pure fluffy goodness throughout!

Happy Valentine's Day - from NinjaSquirls