Disclaimer: I don't think that Fullmetal Alchemist could be owned by just one person. That would be too heavy a weight. Perhaps there are ten Hiromus, and that's how it works. I could never own Fullmetal Alchemist.
I also do not own From First to Last or the Beatles. DAMN I WISH I OWNED THE BEATLES!
A/N: Okay, so before you read this, I want you to know (just in case you haven't read my profile, urchins) that I am a huge Beatles fan. I pretty much know all the lyrics to every song and the randomest of facts, so I just want to get this clear. IN NO WAY AM I DISSING THE BEATLES IN THIS FIC. For once, my fic has a reason to be. In this story, Ed and Roy are kind of like my two interests in music, The Beatles and Newer Music. So when you're reading this, don't think that I'm trying to say that either of the music is bad. Just to let you know.
Okay. I'm done.
Music
—xx—
Roy Mustang let out a sigh as he fumbled for his keys. He was looking forward to some peace and quiet after a very headache-making day at work. The keys fell from his hands and he bent down to get them, cursing his whole staff. Today, Havoc and Fuery were fighting, which somehow involved Roy, when Fuery came, literally crying, to Roy, complaining about Havoc and asking what to do. He really wasn't sure how many times he said, "Sergeant, I don't know. I don't know. Solve your own problems." Hawkeye had brought in Black Hayate and Breda was running around screaming. Fallman kept bringing his own paperwork to the colonel, asking the stupidest of questions repetitively, like, "Where do I sign?" and "How do you pronounce this word?"
Now all he wanted was to open this door and meet Edward, who was going to be reading in his library silently. "Silence," He breathed. Somehow, Roy, in his state of want for peace and quiet, could not hear the booming rock music emitting from the door, so when he opened it, he nearly fell backwards onto the sidewalk. He groaned one name, "Edward."
He heard the lyrics clearly in front of his house with a light voice accompanying it that he could only name as Ed's.
"…I'll drag your body to the car
as blood races down my arm
I think everyone will wonder where you are (tonight)…"
He cringed at the lyrics and entered the house, screaming, "ED!"
"…I'll hide you in my walls
your body will never be found
I'll wear your skin as a suit
Pretend to be you, your friends will like you more than they used to…"
"God dammit, Edward!" He slammed the door shut, screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice just over the music's volume. "GOD DAMMIT, TURN DOWN THAT CRAP!"
Edward's head poked out of the bedroom, surprisingly. Usually, when Roy arrived home, he found him sitting in the library, reading in silence. Yet here he was, listening to this loud music and screaming along with it. His forehead was covered in a thin layer of sweat and he pushed out of the door, the music still booming behind him. He mumbled it as he approached Roy in only a button down polo that Roy was sure was his, his boxer shorts, and socks.
"…I've been dreaming about you
in a pool of your own blood
with your eyes gouged out
by the work of my thumbs
the scent of your insides…"
"Ed, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Roy half screamed over the music.
"I didn't expect you to be home this early. I was just listening to some music!" Ed's voice was calm, but sounded strange when it was screamed.
"COULD YOU PLEASE TURN THAT SHIT OFF!" He pointed towards his bedroom.
"WHADDYA MEAN, THAT SHIT? I HAPPEN TO LIKE THIS MUSIC!"
"RIGHT NOW, EDWARD, I DON'T CARE IF YOU NEED THIS MUSIC TO LIVE! I HAVE HAD A TOUGH DAY AT WORK AND I NEED SOME QUIET!"
"I DON'T CARE!" Ed stomped off into bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Roy let out another sigh before reaching for the door handle… to find that it was locked. He grumbled loudly, but was no competition for the continuing loud music as it moved into the second chorus. He etched a transmutation circle into the door as he begrudgingly put up with the music.
"…I'll hide you in my walls
your body will never be found
I'll wear your skin as a suit
Pretend to be you, your friends will like you more than they used to
Pretend to be you, your friends will like you more than they used to…"
He finished, placing ungloved fingers on the circle and successfully destroying the lock, letting the door swing open. Edward was screaming along with it as Roy walked calmly into the room, walked behind the boy without him noticing (it wasn't hard with the earsplitting rock), and placed a hand on his shoulder. He jerked his arm to the left angrily. His patience had run out minutes ago, and now he was working the record player, ripping up the needle and tossing the record across the room. He grabbed one of his own and placed it on the record player, and before putting the needle back down, he turned to the recovering Edward, who had been flung onto the bed.
"Ed," Roy said softly, "this is music. This is Paul McCartney of the Beatles." He made sure to turn the volume down before putting the needle down and letting it start. At first there was nothing, but then a clean electric guitar split through the clean silence. "This," he whispered, "is Helter Skelter. Positively the most amazing song," he paused, "ever."
Edward listened intently with a scowl on his face.
"…When
I get to the bottom
I go back to the top of the slide
Where I
stop and turn
and I go for a ride
Till I get to the bottom
and I see you again
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Do you don't you want me
to love you
I'm coming down fast but I'm miles above you
Tell
me tell me come on tell me the answer
and you may be a lover but
you ain't no dancer…"
After another three minutes, the song ended. Roy smirked at the boy, who was still
scowling. Roy frowned; not exactly the reaction he had expected.
"He isn't so hot." Ed crossed his arms, "Mine is better."
Roy steamed. "What?" He hissed. His already narrow onyx eyes narrowed to slits and his eyebrows furrowed to their breaking point.
"I said my music is better." Edward repeated, "Your music is old and lame, like you."
Roy took a deep, calming breath, walked over to his lover, grabbed his collar and successfully plucked him off the bed. He walked over to the door and tossed him out onto the wood hallway, slamming the door. He was almost going to snap his fingers for good effect, but chose not to burn his house down. Instead, he drew yet another circle on his door, fixing the lock in place. Edward was not getting back into that room.
"What the fuck was that for!" Edward banged his fists on the door as Roy leaned against it. "What is your fucking problem!"
"Edward, I'm sure I told you," Roy sighed, "That band is the most important thing when you enter this home. You do not compare them to anyone else, because they are incomparable."
"Jesus, someone is stuck in the past." Edward huffed, voice muffled behind the door. "Get with the fucking times, Mustang."
"Why don't you get the hell out of here if you're going to insist that I'm too old for you!" Roy threatened emptily. He didn't want Edward to leave, but he simply would not put up with the Fullmetal Alchemist telling him that that shit that was on when he entered the house was better (for god's sake better!) than the Beatles! It was not allowed.
"What if I do?" Ed said, but made no move to leave.
"All you have to do, Ed, is say the magic words." Roy explained, "'The Beatles are the best band ever.' It's easy."
"I won't say that!"
"Then you aren't getting in this room, and you certainly aren't getting in my bed!" Roy screamed.
There was a silence where he heard Ed's back hit the door and his body slide down to the floor, as if in defeat. Edward sighed and mumbled, "I mean, they're not bad or anything."
Roy smiled, "Well, Ed, if you had said they were bad, I might not have ever looked at you again."
"Oh, come on, Mustang. We both know you couldn't do that."
Roy sighed and said, "Ok, Ed," he stood up, "I guess that's good enough. Next time, though," he unlocked the door and opened it, "you're not going to get away with just that. I'll make you say the real sentence. But," He watched as Edward let himself in the room, "It won't happen again, will it?"
"Who the hell knows," Ed said, "I'm no psychic."
Roy rolled his eyes and smiled at the boy. "It won't happen, I guarantee it. Oh, and by the way, thanks for greeting me with such loud music," he pushed the boy softly on the shoulder, "I had a fantastic day and I'm sorry you had to miss out. I seriously could have used your help today."
Ed smiled, "Well that's too bad. I was here, reading up until an hour ago."
"It's too bad you have to come in tomorrow, then, isn't it?"
"Not necessarily," Edward said, pulling his lover onto the bed, "when I'm there, things are usually calm enough."
"Hmm, I don't see such a bright tomorrow for you then," Roy said, "Now, I'm hungry, where's my dinner?"
"Why should I fucking make you dinner?" Ed said, but got up and went towards the door, "I made some for me, and, you know, there's some extra. You can have it I guess. Come on."
"Just a second, okay?" The colonel stood up and walked towards his record player. Ed shrugged and left the room, leaving Roy in the room with his record. He picked up the black disk and stared at it. "Well, Helter Skelter, it looks like we found a keeper. You've scared away every girl I've played you for, except him." He chuckled, placing the record back in its slip and back on the shelf.
"HEY, BASTARD COLONEL, YOUR FOOD IS GETTING COLD." He heard Ed yell from the other side of his apartment. "HURRY THE FUCK UP."
Roy psh'd. "Yeah, he's a keeper."
—xx—
A/N: Okay, I know. These two songs (Helter Skelter © Paul McCartney; Ride the Wings of Pestilence © From First to Last) did not exist back 'in the day.' But, I wanted to write a fic about their two interests in music, and besides, it's fun for Roy to have an obsession with Beatles like me!
I know the ending is weak, but I couldn't think of anything, so there you go. Anyway… two updates in one day, and now I'm going to work on a third. YEI! The Dixie Chicks are very inspiring .
Okay. Done
ALES
