Fandom: FMA
Title: Finding Home

Pairings: Elricest, Roy/Al

Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Incest, yaoi, lemon

Author's Notes: AU, OC

Word Count: 13,617

Status: Incomplete

Disclaimer: Not mine, too bad. Not mine, so sad.

Summary: "Don't talk, Niisan. It's you. It's always been you. Don't you understand? I love you. I love you. Kiss me… please…."

Finding Home

Chapter 1

Al leaned against the counter of his little shop during the quiet afternoon and watched the clock impatiently. It was strange, he thought idly, how things can change without him ever noticing. Take the General for example. Since the very first day he opened the door of his little alchemy shop, Mustang had stopped by every day just before closing. It had made Al very uncomfortable at first. After all, he was Ed's superior. Al had been fond of the man distantly all the years of their association, because Ed had been the one interacting with the man, not Al. It didn't help much that Ed had such a low opinion of the man, forever bitching and griping about him. So for Mustang to show up each and very day that the store was open, to chat him up and buy something, was a little weird. But as the weeks passed slowly, he warmed up to the man. Especially now that Ed was gone so often on missions… without him.

Al sighed. He understood why Ed left him behind now, he did. But it still hurt. And he missed him dreadfully. Lately, Ed spent only two or three days at home, before setting off on another mission. At first this angered Al, but both Ed and Mustang had told him separately that Mustang was not the only one to assign missions to alchemists, even if Ed did report directly to the general.

With a start, Al realized it was five minutes past six, and Mustang had not shown up. Al still lingered, delaying locking the door for almost another hour. Then he sighed, realized that the general obviously was not going to stop by today. He chided himself on his childish selfishness. The General was a very busy man, and Alphonse Elric was no one. He quietly locked up the shop and climbed the steps to his apartment above, amazed at how much the man's visits had come to mean to him without his realizing it.

The next two days passed the same. Mustang did not show up. On the third day, Al didn't bother to wait. He knew the general wasn't coming. He locked up listlessly, decided against eating and curled up on his bed to indulge in a rare spate of miserable tears. It was hard to face the fact that he was so very lonely now, all the time. Mustang's visits had camouflaged that. But now that both Mustang and Ed had moved on with their lives without him, it was dismaying to realize he had no one.

The next day, at ten till six, the little bell chimed as the door was opened. Realizing he was being foolish, he looked up in hope anyway, and found himself looking into the general's smiling dark eyes. "Sir! You came back!" He flushed at his eager tone and smiled weakly.

"Did you miss me?" Mustang seemed absurdly pleased. "I'm sorry. I had a three day seminar in East City to attend to."

Al waved his words away in embarrassment. "You're a busy man, sir," he stammered self-consciously. "It's been kind of you to spend as much time on me as you do."

Mustang smiled warmly, then launched into an amusing recital of the past three days of mind numbing bureaucratic silliness, bringing laughter to Al's lips. Then he bought the latest book on Alchemic Fluctuations. As he adjusted his gloves in preparation of departing, he frowned to notice a thread dangling from the edge of one of them.

A week later, the boy surprised Mustang. After their daily chat was over, Al suddenly brought out a white embossed cardboard box, his cheeks crimson.

"What's this?" Mustang asked curiously.

"Its for you, sir," Al said in a low voice, pushing the box towards him.

Opening it, Mustang found himself looking at a finely tailored pair of white gloves. The material was of the finest linen, with ignition cloth carefully woven into the pads of the fingers, and the craftsmanship of the exquisitely embroidered fire array on the backs of them were of glimmering red and gold threads. The design shimmered as if burning. He was completely stunned. They must have cost a small fortune.

"I saw… last week… sir. You're gloves were unraveling, so I thought… maybe…" Al's words died miserably away when the general didn't move; didn't even blink as he stared down at the gloves nestled in tissue. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but obviously he'd behaved foolishly. Hesitantly, his fingers curled around the edges of the box and began to pull it back slowly, his face burning with embarrassment.

"No," Mustang said softly, coming out of his stupor. He reached out and gently laid his hands on Al's, halting him. "They're lovely. Thank you. What do I owe you?"

Al blinked. "Why… why, nothing, sir. They're a gift. For your kindnesses to me."

Mustang veiled his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. Al's little store was still in its first year, and he surely wasn't making much yet, even with his daily purchases. This pair of gloves must have set him back quite a bit, even with the money Ed was sending him every week. However, Mustang had no intention of protesting, for that would wound this sweet boy's gentle feelings. He smiled tenderly. "Thank you, Alphonse," he said softly, leaning across the counter to stroke a long fingered hand across the boy's soft cheek, gently kissing the other. "Very much."

He didn't miss Al's sudden soft intake of breath, or the way he leaned into the caress with appeal. When Mustang pulled back, the boy's cheeks were pink and his eyes bright. Ed had been gone for over two months this time, and no one had touched him since then. Mustang's touch was moving, warm, and he smelled so very good!

"It was nothing," Al said, smiling happily and squirming gently.

But when Mustang left a few minutes later, Al felt strangely lonely. And for the first time, when sleep claimed him, it wasn't Ed he was thinking of.