Hi guys! It's been a while since I've posted a full-length AND multi-chaptered fic! Hope you guys enjoy this; I am obsessed with political/economic/business intrigue and so, this was born.

disclaimer: I don't own anything except the idea.

Ling hated waiting.

He counted the seconds until the waitress asked if he wanted a refill of his now cold coffee cup. He declined, eyes elsewhere, fingers twitching and aching for a cigarette he didn't have. He watched as Edward Elric pulled up the seat in front of him, raising an eyebrow. The boy was rough at best; snarky and ill-tempered with a napoleon complex on the side.

Ling found him good company when he was wallowing.

"You're late."

"What's got you in such a shit mood?" Always blunt; it relieved Ling that he can go a few minutes without having to smile politely.

"I'm losing."

He never had to explain himself to Ed; he simply flagged down the waitress and ordered himself a shot of espresso.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Alphonse has been trying his best but to be put it harshly, it hasn't done shit. My older brothers and sisters are quite content to leave me with nothing but a stock share at this rate."

"What happened to your support team?"

"Supported by money now, backstabbers." His eyes drifted once again to the window and then to the dojo across the street; disinterested eyes taking stock of bystanders. Papers are scattered around his table; held down by spare thoughts of pens and forgotten cream cups stacked on top of one another.

"I won't let them turn my father's company into a scam," he said fiercely and Edward stirred his coffee with mild amusement.

"How will you do that when you can barely get them to listen to a word you say? The only person lower than you is May."

"But unlike May, I am not content with simply climbing the ranks," he said, tugging on his hair. "I want all or nothing."

"Bit greedy for you."

"I'm nothing if not ambitious," he said, letting a weary smile grace his face. It was a phrase he had heard since he was young; muttered by his mother, his siblings, his countless nannies. When Ling wanted something, it was unlikely to go unattended. He had a diligence for the impossible despite his penchant for irresponsibility that couldn't be ignored; the kind of attitude that could rally armies, if he so fancied.

And yet, he couldn't even manage to push through the wall his siblings had formed around the committee.

The death of his father had been a shock; the kind of plot twist you knew was coming but refused to listen to. It was less that he was old and more that he was tired; the years affecting his psyche more than his physique. Ling had barely graduated from University by the time of his demise, leaving him both disoriented and lonely. He had always been one of his father's favorites (a feat considering the man had 15 children spread amongst seven wives); the child with enough sharp wit and humor to entertain the old man's wandering mind. He had been doted on constantly; tutors and lessons and missed piano recitals and poorly executed excuses when Ling sat on the steps of his elementary school waiting for the chauffeur to pick him up.

It'd be a lie if he said he didn't enjoy his life; glamorous as it was. It'd also be a lie to say he missed his father because thinking about him didn't leave a hole in his chest like it did May, one of his only sisters and the youngest of all 15. Really, the man's death left him restless; eager to prove himself in a market that didn't even know he existed, especially compared to his siblings who had blazed trails that he rode on by the coat-tails.

Both of them sat in silence; occupied by their own thoughts more than each other, as usual. The best thing about Ed is that he never felt obligated to start a conversation and he wasn't interested enough to pester Ling with questions he didn't want to answer. However, Ling had had enough of sulking and so he leaned forward, a smirk growing on his face.

"So, how's Winry?"

"I don't know why you derive so much pleasure from mentioning her," Ed said, scowling over his reading glasses. Ling doesn't remember seeing the man pull out a book from his backpack but Ed had a tendency to study any moment he could so it didn't surprise him.

"I'm just curious as to why you're still single when you have someone like her living right under your roof!" Ed made a noise of annoyance; glancing over to make sure no one was listening (as if anyone cared).

"Winry and I are not an item; we live together because it was a good arrangement and I didn't want Al to have to move out . Moving in with Winry was convenient."

"Sounds more like a poorly constructed excuse; May's apartment is more than big enough for the two of them."

"You'll turn this on me no matter what I say! I demand due process!"

"I'm not suing you," he snorted, shaking his head. Ling took a sip of coffee and scalded at the bitter, frozen taste.

"Anyway, she's fine; misses your visits, you know how she is. It'd do you good to come see us more often."

"Sorry, I know you guys starve for my company."

"How you haven't managed to collapse under the weight of your own big head astounds me."

"I think it's a talent," he said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. The tension in his shoulders abated; easy banter flowing out of his lips now that he had a chance to take a breather. His phone vibrated in his pocket, the tell-tale sign May had noticed he hadn't shown up to their meeting this morning.

"I'll talk to Hohenhiem for you."

"Really?" Ed sighed, long-suffering and overdramatic.

"Yes, really. I'll see what I can do; I don't exactly have a lot in say in company politics but doing something is better than what I'm doing now."

Ling is surprised; the blonde boy's relationship with his father is hostile at best. But he won't push his luck by pressing the issue further, instead showing a small smile.

"Thanks Elric."

Ed trudged home, the weight of his promise to Ling heavy on his shoulders. Visiting his father was always a nightmare filled with barely kept tempers and backhanded compliments; he didn't have time for the bullshit Alphonse seemed to take in stride. His landlady greeted him on the way in, a short, plucky old woman who wore barrettes in her unkempt hair.

"Back from work so late, Edward?"

"You know how it is; small pay and lots of overtime."

"Those government jobs will kill you," she said, releasing her broom to waggle her finger in his direction.

"If Mustang doesn't kill me first," he mumbled, half-waving and disappearing up the stairs. His job at the CIA was his most prized possession; earned by his own talent without the help of his father, unlike everything else in his life. Mustang had found him on orders by his boss; the rumors of a prodigy looking for a job in an intelligence agency all too convincing to the older man's ears. However, he knew Mustang hadn't been very impressed by the snarky, short hermit he had gotten instead. Ed was obstinate on good days; Mustang was arrogant and obnoxious and a completely smart aleck—they weren't nothing alike and so, they argued constantly. Shouts over office tables and across hallways; squabbles that were broken up by an angry Riza Hawkeye, his partner, slamming them both back into their seats with a wave of her gun.

Ed respected her more than that idiot agent, at any rate.

He slid his key into the lock, considerately taciturn at this time of night, the sun way past setting and nearing midnight. Winry was out at a friend's house, studying for an upcoming exam. The idea of having the place to himself (no one to nag and hog the television and steal all the hot water and nag him) disappeared when he saw the curled up figure napping on his couch.

"Lan Fan?"

She startled despite the fact he had mumbled it; her sense of hearing always as unsettling as the intensity of her gaze. Her black hair was piled on top of her head, rumpled karategi loose on her skin.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven," he said, dropping his briefcase onto the kitchen counter and walking towards the fridge, not missing a beat. He wouldn't ask her what she was doing here; Lan Fan was as much of a permanent figure in this apartment as he was these days.

"I'll be out of your hair in a while."

"You know you're allowed to stay as long as you want; Winry's out so you can take her bed," he reminded her, dropping his bags in front of the door and making his way to the kitchen. His fridge was half-empty but Winry had a pot simmering on the stove and so he pulled out plates for the both of them, waving his hand to silence her protests as she gets up.

"How was work?"

"Mustang was an ass; Havoc tried to take me out drinking; other classified information I can't tell you about," he said, raising an eyebrow. "But that's not really what you want to ask. You know I met Ling for coffee this morning." She crossed her arms and looked away, staring at Ed's diploma that Winry had insisted hanging up on the wall. Ed and Ling had attended Princeton together; lumped together in a project for Intro To Economics.

"If you're not gonna ask about it; I'll just tell you. His entire sponsor team is gone." He watched her hand twitch at the news; her eyebrows knitted together as she leaned towards him for more information.

"All of them?"

"I'm not surprised; it was only logical." He poured rice onto their plates; watching her eyes narrow into slits. "I mean, what chance does Ling have of succeeding? Maybe if he had made a name for himself or been branded a prodigy—"

"Not everyone has the same fortune as you," she reprimanded and Edward grumbled, scowling.

"I didn't mean it like that; I just mean that if I didn't know Ling personally, I would throw him under the gutter the first chance I got. He's an idealist, a visionary; he's intelligent and charming and god damn manipulative but that's not good enough. You know what is good? Filling up investor's pockets."

"You're right," she sighed, taking her plate and pulling up a chair. She moved notes on chemical composition and profiling to make space for her food; Ed's coffee table a war ground of paperwork he needed to finish.
"But he can do it," she stared up at him as he ate standing, watching the running TV with thin interest. "We both know he'll make an amazing CEO!"

"Yeah but our say has no stock…literally." He chuckled at his own pun and Lan Fan rolled her eyes. They fall silent, eyes in the news, before Lan Fan lets out another yawn concealed as a cough. Ed glances over at her while pretending not to look concerned; keeping his voice level as he asks:

"How are you doing?" Lan Fan makes a small noise of protest at the question; waving her hand.

"I'm fine; teaching toddlers how to kick someone all day is incredibly exhausting. I fell asleep waiting for you."

"How's your grandfather feeling?" Her smile dropped a fraction, hands itching to grab something but only finding air.

"He's fine," she responded, careful constructing her words as to prevent further questioning. "You saw him just last week so I don't know why you're asking," she said, chin set and grabbing her bag from the floor.

"Lan Fan—"

"Ed, really, I'm fine," she reassured. "Running the dojo is work, but I love that place. Now can we just drop it?"

"Fine, but you're sleeping the night. I don't care how traditional your grandpa is; sleeping on the floor is nothing compared to Winry's bed."

"You have experience being in Winry's bed?" She left him sputtering as she disappeared into the bathroom. "Also, I hope you know plenty of people sleep on mats in Japan."

"But that's why you came to America!"

She shut the door in his face and Ed laughed, flopping down on the couch and glancing back at the TV. He scowled as the latest news reeled on the screen; showing his father's name plastered across headlines and business magazine covers. Maybe if he got his revulsion out of the way now; it wouldn't be as bad when Alphonse came to take him to headquarters.

Doubtful, he thought to himself, sinking further into the mattress as the sound of water rushed through his ears, drowning out the low noise from the television. His phone vibrated next to him and he grabbed it, hoping Alphonse would tell him he couldn't come in. Maybe the building was closed; maybe his dad was on yet another business trip. Maybe Alphonse would offer to speak to their father for him; pitying his older brother and his short temper. Instead all he got was about a hundred smiley faces and encouraging words.

So glad you're coming! Dad will be happy to see you! I'm sure he'll listen to anything you have to say about the Yao case! :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

Fucking Ling Yao.

And there it is! Hope you guys enjoyed it and be sure to read and review below!

karategi - a karate uniform