A/N:

I've been kicking this idea around for way too long without writing it. Sorry to all of my lovely FMA fans out there that I haven't been paying attention to! This is so lotless and weird, I might just have to rework it later. Ah, well.

And yes, the username HAS changed again! Sorry to all of you for the confusion. This is it, I hope. (Since I'm revisiting an old fandom, I'll toss out my old username and see if anyone recognizes it. VenusOfHecate, ladies?)

Enjoy!~

The loud, clanging bell of the high school rang through the empty hallways, signaling to any stragglers that they were officially late for class. A few students here and there milled around, saying their goodbyes to each other or pulling things out of their metal lockers. The sound of heavy, wooden doors slamming shut echoed through the building as classes began for the morning.

The door of the Advanced Placement British Literature 12 classroom was slammed shut a bit more forcefully than the others by a teacher named Mustang. He strode into the classroom, using his peripheral vision to keep a close eye on the students in the room. Like most of the classrooms in the enormous, well-to-do school, it was built on a slant with the teacher's desk and chalkboards at the very bottom and the rows of oak lab tables that served as desks situated on level platforms jutting out from the sloped part of the large room. The sturdy, oak tables and chairs went all the way to the very back of the room, though not many students sat in the last rows because it was difficult for anyone to see the board from that far away.

Mr. Mustang's class was well-attended, as it always was. At times the tall, dark haired teacher could be sarcastic and rude, even downright intimidating with his hard, onyx eyes, but there was no questioning the fact that he was the most knowledgable, interesting teacher in the entire school. Even though he taught the one class on the course selection sheet that was notorious for being both incredibly challenging and incredibly dull, Mustang drew in a large crowd of both overachieving, intellectual students and those who were content to barely scrape by. There were even a number of slackers and a small group of pretty blondes that always sat in the front row and did their make-up during lectures. Whether it was any interest in the class or an interest in the man teaching it was debatable.

Mustang set his coffee mug down on his desk gently, giving it a longing gaze before moving to stand in the front of the room. "Get out your homework from yesterday and bring it up to the front," he commanded, snapping his fingers, pointing his index finger at them, and curing it back in towards himself. "I'll trade you for a new one."

The students moved to do what they were told. As they brought their papers up and took their new ones, Mustang mentally took attendance. He noted the brainy students that were the first ones in line as they eagerly handed him their papers for grading and swiped a clean sheet off of the stack on the desk. Next was the group of blonde girls. They flashed him white, toothy smiles as they handed him their papers. One even had lipstick on it, the teacher noted with an eyebrow quirked at the girl in question. She simply batted her eyelashes and sashayed back to her seat. At the end of the line came a group of boys wearing baggy sweatshirts and knitted caps pulled down almost over their eyes. They handed him crumpled papers almost grudgingly and messed up his neat pile with their clumsy hands.

When Mustang realized that all but one was accounted for, his face contorted into an expression of both thought and mild concern, barely masking a flash of horror that crossed his pale features. He noted that it had been an unusually quiet morning as he opened his mouth. "Does anyone know where Elric is?" he asked almost tentatively, putting the stack of papers on his desk.

A chorus of negative answers reached Mustang's ears, and it was all the teacher could do to remain stoic. His perfect mask of indifference slipped into place, and the teacher responded with a simple "oh".

Suddenly, the door to the classroom burst open, and a boy with long, blond hair stood in the doorway, looking exhausted. His hair was pulled up into a loose, messy ponytail, and there were dark patches under his honey golden eyes. The teen was carrying a gray messenger bag over one shoulder, and he had a crumpled paper clasped in one hand. What immediately caught everyone's eye and marked him as Edward Elric was the long, billowy, red coat that the blond wore. All eyes were on either Edward or Mustang as they waited for what they hoped would be a good fight between the two, as was their custom.

Mustang literally breathed a sigh of relief, but it was quickly followed by a chuckle and a sarcastic smirk thrown the blond's way. "So kind of you to join us, Mr. Elric," he greeted formally, locking eyes with the tardy student.

"Shove it, Mustang. Here's the homework," Edward said, but his voice didn't hold the bite it usually had when he was swapping insults with the cocky teacher. He walked over and thrust the paper into the man's waiting hand before walking slowly over to the empty seat at the end of the front table nearest the door and throwing his bag onto the ground. The tired blond sunk into the chair slowly, wincing when he finally let himself down all the way, letting out a weary sigh and propping his head up on his arms.

"Not going to explain your lateness and rude entrance to your abundantly patient classmates, not to mention myself?" Mustang asked, feigning irritation as he folded his arms and leaned against his desk, angling his head towards Edward.

The teen simply sighed and fixed his teacher with an empty stare through bleary, dull eyes. "Write me up for tardiness, send my name down to the office, or give me a detention for all I care." His voice sounded strained, and the poor student looked as if he was fighting just to stay awake.

An odd look crossed Mustang's face as he approached Edward's seat. He studied the teen for a minute before sighing and dropping a paper on the table top. Turning around, he walked back over to his chalkboard and began scribbling down words on the surface. "Today we're starting act one scene four of Romeo and Juliet," he announced, writing down page numbers on the board. A collective groan rose from the students behind him. "Well, don't act so excited now. Please curb your enthusiasm, people. Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four," he instructed, moving out of the way so the students could read the board. "If I go too fast for you, tough," he stated, staring pointedly at Edward. The blond simply blew his bangs out of his face and stared back.

At the end of the day, the final bell rang to signal that classes were finally over, and students quickly stormed through the hallways, grabbing their books and coats from their lockers and leaving the building in a hurry. The sun was glaringly bright and warm, and everything smelled like spring time. The combined noises of conversation and car engines buzzed in the parking lots as the mass of students left to enjoy the rest of the beautiful day.

Mustang sat in his empty classroom with the blinds down, shuffling through papers and trying to finish organizing his work so that he could leave and enjoy the ride back to his house in his cherry red convertible, preferably not alone. Shoving a stack of papers into his briefcase, the dark haired man threw his gaze to the door. He began to tap his foot on the floor as he cleaned up his desk.

After what seemed like an eternity to the teacher, a familiar blond came slinking through the doorway, his trademark red coat under one arm. Underneath his coat was a slim polo shirt and a par f equally slim, black jeans. Mustang stood up, walking over to Edward and taking him by the shoulders. He looked searchingly into the teen's faded, golden eyes. "Are you quite alright, Ed?"

"Do I look quite alright to you?" Edward countered weakly in a mocking tone, "Because, believe me, it's been a hell of a Monday."

Letting go of his student, the man walked quickly over to shut and lock the door before guiding Edward over to his large, comfortable teacher's chair. He then knelt down in front of it and gave the boy a light kiss on his forehead. "You don't feel warm," the teacher remarked to himself with a quiet hum.

The teen looked at him expressionlessly. "My ass hurts and I probably got an hour of sleep last night, Roy."

Mustang blinked quickly before remorse and regret washed over his features. "Oh. Ed, I told you that we didn't have to."

The blond quickly realized his mistake and grabbed onto his teacher's larger hand. He mustered up an intense stare, fighting back a yawn. "I wanted to. Believe me, Roy. I wanted to. I just wish it wasn't Monday. I'm as tired as fuck," he remarked, carelessly throwing out an expletive.

Roy smirked slightly, trying to override his emotions and fall back into their old speech habit. "As tired as fuck, huh? What an interesting choice of words, Edward."

Ed blushed heavily. "Do you mind?! You're supposed to be pitying me here," the blond reminded him.

"Oh, yes. Of course," Roy corrected himself with a smile, "How incredibly rude of me. How is your ass doing?" The teacher's expression suddenly darkened and the smile fell from his face. "Edward, if it hurt too much, you should have told me so!" he insisted, leaning in towards his student.

"Roy, calm down," Edward said reassuringly, "Besdes, I wasn't exactly in the position to be having rational thoughts. I mean, sure it was a little rough on me, but it's not like I didn't have fun."

"That's not the point!" the man argued, staring intently into his lover's eyes. He brought his hand up to touch Edward's face delicately, almost as if he was afraid the teen would shatter like glass.

The teen glared at Roy for a second before the wheels of his mind started to turn a little faster. A grin spread across his face as he reached up, hooking a finger around the elastic band holding his hair in place and pulling it out with a gentle tug. Long, thick locks of silky, blond hair cascaded down Edward's head and shoulders as he shook it out with a tiny smile. Once his tresses were unbound, the smell of his shampoo overwhelmed Roy's senses, and the man couldn't help but close his eyes for a second and relax his tensed muscles.

Edward leaned in so that their faces were impossibly close and yet not touching. "Lighten up, Roy," he whispered, lips brushing against the older man's when he spoke. "It's a beautiful day outside. So warm and sunny." The teen fluttered his eyelashes, kissing his older partner deeply before continuing, voice barely above a whisper, "I just love your sports car. We could even put the top down," he suggested with a playful gleam in his eye.

Roy shuddered, grabbing Edward by the hair on the back of his head and crashing their mouths together in a hungry kiss. He moved his free hand to the collar of the blond's shirt, clinging to it almost desperately. His student's lips parted, and Roy took the opportunity to slip his tongue into the teen's mouth. Their tongue's tangled together, cheeks flushing as they pressed closer to one another.

Breaking apart somewhat begrudgingly, Ed wiped his mouth with his wrist quickly before leaning back in the chair, letting out a tired sigh. He managed a sultry look in spite of his fatigue. "Just take me home already."

A/N:

So, that's that! I wanted to make it longer, but I think it's got a decent ending. Send me some love, if you please!