Warning: This story contains light shonen ai, a sexual inuendo, a crafty old woman, and some sadly abused foliage.

Disclaimer: Sometimes you own FMA, and sometimes FMA owns you. Guess which one applies to me.

Uneasy Rider

Ed furiously kicked a daisy, cursing under his breath. Al had been distracted by some newborn kittens back at their lodgings, electing to stay there instead of going into town with them. Meaning Ed had been forced to spend the day with Mustang. Yes, Mustang. With his 'holier-than-thou-art' attitude and disinterested mannerisms and endless short jokes and cocky little smirks and gorgeous looks and delicious ass- Ed swore and kicked the dilapidated piece of greenery one more.

Goddamned sexy bastard. He was the reason for all of Ed's troubles. He and Ed's treacherous little brother. He never should have told Al anything. Not that he'd meant to in the first place. One day his rant about the 'Bastard Colonel with the endless short jokes who must meet a terrible end' had developed into an 'Al I think I have improper feelings for my superior officer, what should I do?' sort of thing. And his dear little brother had taken a moment to digest all of this before taking it upon himself to help his brother. Ed preferred it when Al had no idea. He was starting to feel like Al was trying to set him up. Like today for instance, sending him into town. Just him and Mustang.

Ed looked down at what was left of the daisy and wondered if he could get another good kick out of it. He was interrupted, however, by several hundred pounds of horse bumping into him. As he lay sprawled out on the pavement, he heard a voice from somewhere behind him.

"Sorry about that. Didn't see you there." Ed was on his feet in record time.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE'D SURVIVE BEING TRAMPLED BY SLIPPING INTO A CRACK IN THE SIDEWALK!?" The old woman blinked. Ed continued to fume.

"I don't know what that's all about, but I am sorry. Hector can get a little out of hand sometimes."

As if to prove her point, the horse tugged on its rein and pawed the earth expectantly. It was a nice brown color with a black tail and mane with white socks. Ed held up his hand. Hector sniffed it cautiously and snorted, smelling the bitter tang of auto-mail. There was a moment's deliberation and be bumped against Ed's hand. Ed stroked his muzzle, smiling even though he couldn't feel it.

The old woman smiled, black eyes shining. "Looks like he likes ya. That's unusual for a mustang." Hector shied away, eyes rolling, as Ed's outcry of "WHAT!?" reverberated down the street. The old woman was almost pulled away. Ed helped her steady herself.

"Sorry about that, but did you say Mustang?"

"Yup. They're a nice breed if you know how to handle um."

"How'd they get the name?"

"Named after the one who bred um. Fellow named Mustang. Name just kinda stuck. Why ya askin'?"

"I know someone named Mustang."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah. He's right over there."

Ed pointed at the General Store. You could see him through the glass. He was at the counter, talking to someone. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, giving a teasing glance of the creamy skin of his chest. His throat was exposed, a slender column leading to the elegant jaw line. Warm pink lips moved and a talented tongue danced within, both working in harmony to produce that deep purr of a voice. Ed was vaguely aware that the old lady was saying something.

"My my, he's a handsome one isn't he?"

Ed let a dreamy sign escape his lips. "Yeah. He is."

Reality slapped Ed across the face with such force that his cheeks turned crimson. "Erm.. I mean, I suppose he is."

She just shook her head and chuckled. "Well young one, I suppose I should give you some advice. There's a saying I think you should know. You see, life's like this: Sometimes you ride the Mustang…" She pointed at Hector as she said this. The horse was looking over the street for any grazing material.

"And sometimes…" She trailed off as she looked towards the store. Ed looked with her.

Mustang was almost done. His large hands delicately cradled packages before sweeping up to brush away an errant piece of hair. What Ed wouldn't give to be embraced by those hands. To intertwine his hands, flesh and metal, into those strands of liquid ebony. He was once more brought back from his haze by the old woman as she pulled him closer and whispered into his ear "And sometimes the Mustang rides you."

Edward sputtered. The old woman chuckled.

Several minutes later, Mustang emerged, packages balanced in his arms. He stared dumbfounded out at the street, unable to fathom why his young subordinate was trying to strangle an elderly woman.

Authors Notes:

I have no idea what spawned this. Feedback is appreciated though.