In which Ed seeks Revenge, Roy loses Control, and First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye becomes involved.
Roy was in a great mood, and had been since arising from his bed at the first ring of his alarm clock. He smiled through his ride into work and cast a tolerant eye over his paperwork, for once not cursing its vile existence. No, today he was at peace even with paperwork. It couldn't help its own detestable nature.
Roy felt young again, all a-bubble with hope and wonder. He had lain awake for some time the night before, giddily spinning the many different scenarios that could be playing out just a few blocks away. Had Ed shrieked so loudly the entire pub could hear? Did he dump a drink on Havoc? Did he storm out with his face that adorable red that spread right down his neck?
Do not go there. He is not adorable. NOT. Adorable.
Completely non-adorable. But always good for a laugh. Oh, he couldn't wait to hear the tale.
x
Hawkeye and Falman were duly informed of the prior night's events by Havoc and Breda. Fuery nodded along weakly, still a little greenish around the gills.
"… and the kid can drink. He had us under the table. I always thought Havoc was exaggerating about nothing to do in the country but drink, but… I could not do that when I was a kid. And what the hell, he's tiny!"
(Everyone instinctively looked over their shoulder to check for Presence of Enraged Edward. Coast clear.)
Havoc continued the story. "And then, get this, he tells us that we are confused, and that he's known he was gay pretty much since he could walk, and what's the big deal? Then he says, thanks for the drinks, pats Fuery on the back, and suggests we call a cab. Then walks out in the straightest line you've seen in your life."
"Aren't people from the country supposed to be kind of prudish? Don't give me that look, Havoc, I remember what you were like first year in academy. And I'm glad that, you know, Edward's ok, but… what the hell?"
x
Roy stood frozen a step outside the open office door. He had paused to listen to Havoc and Breda, wanting to hear the version of the story not tailored to the ears of their commanding officer. But then…
Wait, *Ed* is gay?
"And I'm glad that, you know, Edward's ok, but… what the hell?" he heard Breda say.
"Well… it's good to know Edward isn't having that sort of identity crisis." Hawkeye said slowly. "I suppose we underestimated some aspects of his upbringing…?" she finished on a questioning note.
"Oh, that's not even the weird part," Havoc's voice came.
"Then what is the weird part?" Falman spoke for the first time.
There was a pause.
"He says we should talk to the Colonel about his feelings about his sexuality."
"Why would the Colonel know about Edward's…" Hawkeye began bewilderedly. Roy hadn't heard her sound this tentative in years.
"No, talk to the Colonel about the Colonel's sexuality," Breda clarified.
oh shit oh shit oh shit
No. Breathe, Roy. Just wait, they'll all start chuckling now…
No chuckles were forthcoming.
x
There was a silence.
Falman said, "Wait. He was trying to imply that the Colonel is confused about… you know…"
The Three Hangovers nodded simultaneously. Fuery appeared to regret it.
"Yeah," Breda confirmed. "And well, he's certainly in tune with his own sexuality…"
"And they say it takes one to know one…" Havoc added uneasily.
"Oh, sir!" Falman exclaimed, the first to observed Mustang in the doorway. The subordinates all jumped to their feet and saluted.
x
Roy hadn't really meant to step into the room; just had the thought that enough was enough, and it was time for the conversation to end. The next moment, he was facing a group of saluting and very shifty-eyed subordinates.
Oh, his ire.
Steps:
1. Pull the utter dick move of not putting the saluting soldiers at ease.
2. Gaze at individuals in the eye just long enough to make them very, very uncomfortable. Devote a few minutes to this task.
3. Purr, "Please, don't let me interrupt."
4. Move towards inner office, finally tossing "At ease" over shoulder.
5. Panic. Hide in office to regroup.
Oh, SHIT. Ed actually reports in today. Wait, when did I start thinking of him as 'Ed'?
x
Ed strolled towards headquarters, a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth, a smirk similar to the one frequently worn by a certain bastard of his acquaintance. A bastard for whom he had done an enormous favor last night, really. Accepting one's true nature built character. And poor Roy would be so much happier after he did.
Wait, when did I start thinking of him as 'Roy'?
Irrelevant. I just won't do it anymore.
He took the steps to the building two at a time. Funny how energizing a night of drinking could be. Whiskey. Nectar of the gods.
He started to whistle.
x
Part one of Step 5 went beautifully. Roy panicked very thoroughly, on the principle that if you are going to do something, you should do it right. It was the second part that was giving him trouble, the one where he regrouped and figured out how to regain control of the situation.
He heard a distant whistling sound, one that soon became less distant, and then quite distinct as it entered the outer office and resolved itself into the dulcet tones of a certain alchemist (whom he did not address by name). Soon a knock knockknock knock sounded on his door, followed instantly by Ed. Fullmetal.
"You may enter, Fullmetal," Roy said dryly.
Ed (Fullmetal!) gave him a dazzling smile. (What the hell. Men did not 'dazzle'. At least, not this colonel.) "Good morning, Colonel!"
That little shiteater.
"You little shiteater," Roy hissed. He saw the flare of rage in Ed's eyes at the word little, but it was quickly eclipsed by a wide, shit-eating grin.
Oh, Ed knew what he'd done. What's more, he clearly knew that Roy knew what he'd done, because the nincompoops in the outer office, while stellar at keeping their mouths shut around undesirables, had never been able to conceal anything from Roy for more than forty-three minutes as soon as he was in the same building.
"Whatsa matter, Mustang? Feeling a little conflicted today? Maybe a little confused?"
"I – you – do you have any idea what this little stunt could cost me? I have a reputation. The "women want me, men want to be me" kind of reputation, and I like it that way –"
"WHAT WAS THAT, COLONEL?" – Ed raised his voice to be clearly audible in the outer office – "WHICH WAY DID YOU SAY YOU LIKED IT? HUH, ME TOO, HOW SURPRISING!"
"This is ridiculous. Is there something you want? You could just come out and say it –"
"COME OUT? I THINK THAT'S A GREAT IDEA! " God above, they must be able to hear him on the parade ground.
"IN FACT, MAYBE YOU SHOULD hnkk –"
x
Ed was having a fantastic time baiting the Colonel, right up until the man lunged, and his attempt to stifle Ed's caterwauling with a hand clamped over his mouth somehow resulted in his hands sort-of-maybe-actually around Ed's throat.
Strict justice would have dictated Ed acknowledge that Roy had merely been attempting to press his hands over Ed's mouth. Ed's sense of justice, however, was about as miffed as the rest of him as regarded Roy's hands wrapped around Ed's neck, and declined all comment. This left Ed with free reign to retaliate, which he did.
Strict justice would have dictated Roy acknowledge that people in general do not like be throttled, regardless of their attacker's originally [comparatively] benign intent. Justice might also have suggested that Roy's original intent was not all that benign to begin with, and perhaps the mysterious placement of his hands around Ed's neck was not in fact very mysterious. Roy was not inclined to be all that just after his right instep had been stomped by a metal foot, and also wanted to add for the record that while his hands were around Ed's neck, they were not squeezing.
Strict justice would have dictated that after viciously stomping Roy's foot a moment to allow the man to release his neck might have been in order, rather than transition seamlessly to throwing the man to the ground.
Self-preservation would have dictated Roy then release Ed's neck.
x
Oh the trachea under his palms, the cervical vertebrae beneath his fingers as they cradled the occipital bone OH SHIT THAT EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE IS BAD BAD BAD
x
He smells kinda good THE PYSCHO ASSHOLE
x
You are kidding not again they need a damn mediator WHERE IS MY GUN OH OF COURSE
x
"Edward, release the Colonel!" *ka-chak*
It was unfortunate for Ed, and not really fair, that Hawkeye burst into the room at the point when he was on top of the Colonel, and she couldn't observe the Colonel's hands around his neck from her vantage point in the doorway. Ed, for the second time in a month, found himself locking eyes with a vengeful sharpshooter [whom he feared less than only one other woman in the world]. He removed himself from his position pinning Roy to the floor, and of course the bastard then released his throat. And then the finger-pointing began.
"He was trying to strangle me!"
"I was not!"
"Then what the fuck were your hands doing around my neck? And here I thought you were a clavicle man. CHANGING TEAMS, MUSTANG?"
"I – you –"
"THAT'S ENOUGH! Clearly, there is something going on here unrelated to your professional relationship, and I think for the sake of us all it is time to resolve it."