Disclaimer: I'm sorry, but I am currently in a state of denial over n-not o-owning Ffff... Full... met... Excuse me, I need to go sulk in a corner. u.u

Full summary: Upon returning from a lab inspection gone haywire, Edward gains the ability to read minds. With it, he learns everyone's baffling, odd, or plain disturbing secrets—including Mustang's crush on him. P.S. Is R-rated material all anyone ever thinks about?! Especially you, Mustang, shut up.

Warnings: Rating may change.

There will be sprinklings of OOC-ness here and there. It is a sacrifice necessary for comedy.

This pairing is yaoi, boy on boy, possible scenes of explicit sex, and a romance between a 15-year-old and a thirty-something.

Edward has a dirty mouth.

So do I.

Warning, this one is not an actual warning. Mind-blown.

Additional notes: I just wanted to say that I've had this plot bunny locked up in a cage for a while now. I think I'll have an awesome time writing this, so I hope the readers enjoy it too.

Thoughts and emphasis

"What quotation marks are usually used for"

Prologue

Edward languidly drifted to a conscious state of mind, noticing first the throbbing at his temple. He felt dizzy, but he fought to part his eyelids anyway. A grimy expanse of concrete that was probably the ceiling stared back at him. His head throbbed harder, straining to coalesce his memories and glean for some explanation as to why he was observing an unfamiliar ceiling.

Well, he could go with the short answer that always summed it up perfectly: Edward always finds trouble, one way or another. But he wasn't exactly fond of that general, cursory answer, so let's be more specific.

First off, the assignment was given by Colonel Bastard, so it was his fault. Ignoring the fact that he couldn't have known the goings-on of the laboratory, and most likely assumed it was a harmless task. Alas, that was not the case.

Edward's mission was to inspect an alchemical laboratory funded by the military and run by scientists that weren't hired by the State but competent. Easy enough, right? What could possibly go wrong? Of course, that was the dumbest jinx you could utter right there (Ed wasn't superstitious, but the way things turned out for him, sometimes he wondered.)and we're talking the Fullmetal Alchemist here.

Nothing is ever easy for him. Not even something as mundane as screwing the lid off of a ketchup bottle. He often twisted it with all his might, gnawed at it, pounded it with his automail fist, debated whether or not he should call his mechanic to traverse the country so she could carefully remove a pesky and steadfast contraption, before Alphonse stepped in. Then he deftly rotated the lid off the bottle, leaving Edward awestruck, and suggested that maybe he should shuck the slippery glove next time, for the millionth time, Brother. And then he would feel stupid. And then do it again a week later.

...But we're getting off-topic here. We've been getting off-topic a lot, actually. Look at this, the narrator is even getting off-topic about being off-topic. Quite a feat.

AHEM. Anyway, the laboratory didn't pass the inspection. Edward had discovered that human experimentation was being executed, not of the taboo caliber but close enough.

These human subjects were held captive against their will, whilst the alchemists probed and transmuted their brains in macabre ways. He was outraged, spat a highly offensive snark or several, and he guessed that in his distracting ire, left himself wide open. Someone fought dirty and snuck up behind him, whacking him upside the head with a blunt object. The force behind it was enough to knock him out cold.

They must have transported him to this cold metal table while he was unconscious. They bound him to it in a recumbent position, restraining his wrists and ankles with iron cuffs. These cuffs molded tight against his flesh, indicating their alchemical origin.

Edward's head also felt weird, sort of flighty and airy—no, he did not mean he had a head full of nothing but air—as if it was expanded to provide more room. Provide more room for what? (More air?) No, thank you very much. He couldn't pin-point off the bat what his brain was... craving some kind of fodder, to be fulfilled? but he could deal with that later.

Right now, he would focus on breaking out, theatrical, unforgettable Fullmetal Alchemist style.

Two minutes later

Edward jubilantly hummed the tune of "Wrecking Ball" as he sauntered away from a building that had been reduced to shambles in a course of a couple minutes. There was commotion behind him as well, as the police, soldiers and curious onlookers collected around the pile of rubble.

Needless to say, they were all rather perplexed in various manners. Edward grinned;that one was going on Mustang's bill, for sure.

Edward continued trekking the urban streets until reuniting with Alphonse. They were at an outdoor restaurant, in which Alphonse would be ordering his food. When Alphonse saw him, scraping in a chair to join the table, he was a little miffed.

"Where have you been, Brother?"

"The usual." Edward shrugged.

"Oh. Alright then." The pacified Alphonse nodded in understanding.

It was later, when they were heading for the train station, that Edward's headache seemed to eclipse tenfold. He cried out, taken off guard. As if to keep it from bursting into a thousand shards, he squeezed his head with his hands.

"Brother!" Alphonse called out in alarm, holding him by his shoulders as he wobbled. Edward tried to hold himself steady.

He groaned, "My... head..."

Alphonse looked like he was going to have a panic attack, despite lacking the organs necessary. "Just hold on, I'll carry you—" he insisted, when Edward suddenly redeemed his center of balance. He instantly stood straight and normal, no longer ailed by the migraine. The blond alchemist blinked wearily; as quickly as it had come, the pain vanished.

He gasped for air, and made to reassure Alphonse, when a voice balked him.

Teenagers and their drama... Wait. Is that a suit of armor? The new generation must take it very far...

Just keep walking, Diane. Just keeeep walking.

Ooohh, is that the famed young State Alchemist in that hulking suit of armor? Gossip material! I must get an autograph!

Late for work AGAIN, ugh. Good thing I'm the secretary or I'd be fired by now.

Hey, someone dropped their wallet. Finders keepers!

Ed had enough and bellowed, "Everybody SHUT UP! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING SO LOUD IN THE MIDST OF CROWDED STREETS! COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY! MORONS!"

Edward's outburst attracted a considerable amount of attention, people turning their heads to try and comprehend what in the world this kid was talking about. Their opinions of the spectacle were flung at him like a horde of tracking missiles.

Edward ground his teeth. "I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR OPINIONS YOU PESTS!"

Alphonse gesticulated feverishly, calling out copious apologies. "Brother," he squeezed in between them, "what is wrong with you!"

"What's wrong with me?" Edward gaped, like he was astounded by some profound betrayal. All of a sudden, he whirled on a nearby elderly woman hobbling along with her cane. "DON'T CALL ME SHORT, DAMN YOU! AT LEAST I'M STILL GROWING WHILE YOU KEEP SHRINKING! MUAHAHAHA!" Edward laughed maniacally, eyes wide like a madman.

By that point, Alphonse securely trapped his brother against his torso with one arm while his other hand heroically covered his mouth. Edward thrashed wildly, emitting muffled obscenities as Alphonse fled. He only hoped to the God he didn't believe in that Edward didn't get them kicked off the train.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Edward stewed in his seat, twitching violently now and then. Alphonse sat across from him, relieved that he had tamed the beast somewhat. All he had to do was assume that sweet, imploring tone, and Edward would do his best to oblige.

The ride was quiet, to Alphonse anyway. For Edward, he was in a whirlwind of the voices of people surrounding him, all mingling into a dull roar. And yet at the same time, he could effortlessly distinguish one voice from another if he wanted. He didn't want to in the slightest, however, so he didn't.

It was becoming stranger and stranger to him how calm Alphonse was about this. Sure, he was the more temperate one by far, but did he really want to overhear all these reticent and straightforward statements?

He, for one, was being driven insane by it.

"Al," he broached the subject at last, "how can you stand this?" He raised his voice an octave to be heard over the incessant racket. He shot a glare to someone a few rows behind him, who was commenting openly on how fidgety Ed was. The man blinked in shock and averted his eyes to stare out the window. Edward snorted; he could still register his mutters to himself that weren't as quiet as he must have thought. What a lunatic.

He looked back to Alphonse, realizing he was replying. "Stand what, Brother? What is wrong?"

"Do you not hear them? How can you not hear them? You have hearing, right?"

"...Yes, but—"

"Then how do you endure it!" he almost shouted, jumping over to Alphonse to grasp his shoulders. He looked up at him with pleading, desperate golden irises, whispering conspiriatorially, "Tell me your secret, little brother. After all, everyone's doing it. It's all the fucking rage."

"Brother," he murmured with horror, "oh God, are you hearing voices? Have you finally cracked?"

"I am not hearing voices in the way you're suggest..." He broke off, casting his gaze around the train in a one-eighty sweep. Looking up at his brother(The authoress needed to stop using this phrase. He was sick of "looking up" at people!), he asked with shock, "do you really not hear them?"

"No, Brother. I don't hearing anyone talking."

"They're pretty much reading their diaries aloud, for fuck's sake," he said indignantly, retreating to his seat.

"What are they saying?" he asked.

"You sure you wanna know?" Edward questioned, nose wrinkled in contempt. Alphonse nodded, and he sighed.

"You see that guy there, with the funny brown afro?" He pointed discreetly. Alphonse nodded and he continued, "He is wiping his sweaty hands on his pants as he worries, paranoid, that someone knows about his sixth toe. Or not so paranoid, I guess."

As if he could detect his secret being spilled, the boy peered over his shoulder at Edward. Edward ducked his head and scooted to the window, gulping. Then he turned his gaze back on Alphonse.

"You believe me, don't you?" he asked hopefully.

"Um, I don't really want to go over and check his foot for the proof." Alphonse scratched the cheek of his helmet awkwardly. At Edward's sulk, he rushed to rectify his mistake, saying, "Not that I don't have faith in you, Brother! Let's try something easier."

Edward smiled faintly and nodded. He scanned the area, before landing on a random lady across from them. "Excuse me, miss," he said,—Alphonse didn't know how to react to the discovery that he had successfully taught Edward manners all along, yet he never used them—and the woman looked up.

Yeah, it was about damn time someone looked up at him, instead.

"Yes?" she replied in dulcet tones. Funny, her other voice was more snooty than that.

"I am so bored. Could you spare me a minute to play a guessing game?"

"Um, I guess so?"

Alphonse didn't like where this was going.

"Okay, so I'll guess what's in your purse." He paused for her to list them in a flash. "Car keys, hand lotion, a compact make-up kit, your wallet which contains credit cards, license, and ninety-five cenz exactly..."

Nope, didn't like it.

"...a photograph of your fiancee Harris, a packet of tissues, a prescribed anti-inflammatory drug, and a barf bag in case you have motion sickness while on the train," he finished at last, and the woman stared at him slack-jawed. "Am I correct?"

She didn't respond, only bolting from her seat, clutching the purse to her chest like it was her lifeline. Alphonse took that as a yes. He sat there dumbly.

"She thinks I'm going to snatch her purse," Edward explained to Alphonse, relaxing in his seat again. "Pfft, idiot, don't know where she got that idea. The conclusions people jump to these days."

That one did not take a mind-reader to find out.

"Yeah," Alphonse deadpanned. Pause. Pause some more. "I don't know if we're jumping to conclusions when we say that you can read minds, however."

Pause pause pause-y pause.

Edward's eyes were aimed straight ahead, unseeing. Alphonse paused some more.

Edward exploded at last, jumping to his feet on the leather booth seat. "FFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—"

Owari

"I didn't ask for your opinions! If you have a concern, write it down on a damn piece of paper or something, and throw it in the dumpster—oops, I mean complaint box—and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can WITH MY FISTS!" Edward boomed.

"Brother, who in the world are you yelling at?!" Alphonse wailed.

Edward looked at his brother like he was stupid. "Any homophobes that bash the story over it having a gay pairing."

"Any what? Are you feeling okay?"

Note from author: Sorry if that disappointed you, but it's merely the prologue. The romance comes first chapter, promise. And it will be serious at times. R&R, suggestions welcome.