WHOLE LIVES CHAPTER 20: OPEN MOUTH, INSERT…FOOT

By The Binary Alchemist, 2012

"Not. One. Word. Do I make myself understood, Colonel Hawkeye?"

The last time he'd barked at her like that was in the hospital after he'd learned of her emotional reaction to his alleged demise at the hands of Lust. It was a tone she didn't dare disobey. That didn't mean she had to like it. "Yes, Sir."

Roy wasn't buying it. "Is that 'yes sir, I will follow your orders because they are the correct course of action', or 'yes, sir, I will follow your orders with all due reluctance because rank prevents me from calling you a fool'?"

Her spine stiffened to full attention. "It is my duty to follow your orders in full detail regardless of my personal opinion, Sir."

Roy sighed in exasperation and ruffled his already messy black hair. "You think I'm wrong. You think I need to leave Central. You want me to run—"

"With respect, Sir—I don't want you to run, but I'm concerned that somebody got past your bodyguards and got close enough to fire at your window." She cleared her throat slightly. "And I'm concerned about your children."

"My-?"

His bodyguard nodded briskly. "Yes sir, yours. Edward is your companion. He shares your life. He and his family are now your family, and I will protect them as I would protect you, sir."

He stared at her for a long moment. He knew what it cost her to say those words and he hoped she understood his unspoken gratitude. "Your recommendations, Colonel?"

"How many contingency plans do you have regarding their safety or evacuating them?"

"Not enough to satisfy you, apparently." He scowled at her over his coffee mug. "You have my attention, Colonel. Let's hear it."

Within the hour phone calls were placed. Some cenz—quite a lot of them, if the truth be told—changed hands. When she was satisfied, Colonel Hawkeye and Major Havoc presented Fuhrer President Mustang with a battle plan, several maps and a list of paid accomplices. Hawkeye looked satisfied and Havoc was grinning from ear to ear. "Just call it 'Operation Mother Goose', Chief."

###

"Bloody motherfuckin' hell!"

"You said it, Brother!" Al adjusted the burners, nodded to the crew and gave the signal to begin the descent. "If they didn't look so cheerful I'd be scared enough to wet myself. Just look at that mob!"

Ed smirked nastily. "Yeah. And that mob just looked at Peehole's arse, swingin' through the treetops with his ball sac flapping in the breeze. "

"Don't be rude, Ed."

"And don't tell me it isn't funny," his older brother shot back. "You're too nice, Al. He's been a prick since he got on board—hell, from the look on Ruby's face I'm willing to bet he was a prick the whole time she was racing him up to Briggs. I almost felt sorry for her."

A gloved hand gripped his shoulder. "Ed…listen to me. You know how important this mission is. And I'm not fond of Pee—er—Pio. But everything we do from now on is going to affect the future. We're not just two kids out on their own mission anymore. We're doing this for our country…and if you think about it, we're doing this for Maes and Nina." Al reached inside his brother's jacket and tugged out the battered leather travel pocket case that held two small photos of his children that traveled everywhere with Edward. He flipped it open. "Just like Roy is building the future for Amestris, what you and I are doing makes a better future for the kids, right? Isn't it worth gritting our teeth and putting up with…with…" he rolled his eyes skyward, "a total asswipe—for the sake of our family? For kids like…like Elycia?" His topaz eyes were pleading now. "Ed…please-"

Ed raised his hands to cut his brother off mid-sentence. Jeeze, if he starts with the damn water-works-did he learn this from Winry or what? But Al was right. Ed knew Al was right and as galling as it was, he swallowed back the argument that was churning in his gut and gave the hell in. "All right, Al, all right, I'll keep my mouth shut. I'll be a model of diplomacy, and if I break my word I will hold still and let you beat the crap out of me. I'll make an effort to be civil with Pee—uh—Bacalla." Ed gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile pleasantly, although to any observer his features appeared to be twisted into the sort of grimace seen when one's foreskin is caught in one's zipper. "Just don't expect me to suck his dick."

Alphonse shuddered in disgust. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Цветения мы приносим в лето Как семья

собирает под рукой валов - внутри - рука,

приветствуя один другого Добро пожаловать

те мы пропускали настолько длиной"

"WHAT'S THAT THEY ARE SINGING?" Armstrong boomed as he waved to the chorus of rosy cheeked children who came forward to meet the crew of the Xerxes as they disembarked.

To Ed's surprise, Bacalla lifted his voice in a melodic baritone, bowing to a little girl who shyly offered him a bunch of sunflowers.

"Blossoms we bring in the summer

As the family gathers beneath the trees

Hand in hand, greeting each other

Welcoming those we have missed so long…"

Switching to Drachman, he knelt down among the children and sang heartily with them until the last verse before being engulfed in a wave of hugs and kisses. He then rose, bowed graciously to the Tsarina and to Lobachevsky and waved his greetings to the assembled multitude which roared its approval.

Ed buried his face in his gloved palm. "Crap. They love him."

They loved Dr. Chen as well, who had changed out of his flying leathers into an embroidered coat of scarlet silk, golden dragons crawling along both sleeves. With his long black hair unbound and spilling down his back and his round, beaming face, the Drachmans oohed and ahhed over the exotic visitor as if he had arrived from another planet.

The assembled soldiers in the Tsarina's guard cheered and pumped their fists in approval as Armstrong ripped off his jacket and shirt, flexing his biceps until they gleamed with sweat, then squeezing his arms down and making his pectorals dance in time with the lively air played by a uniformed brass band. "CITIZENS OF STOLTOVGRAD! BEHOLD—THE MAGNIFICENCE OF YOUR HOSPITALITY HAS CAUSED MY MUSCLES TO SWELL AND PULSE IN RAPTUROUS APPRECIATION!"

"Hope that doesn't make the headlines!" Al whispered to Ed nervously.

"No—but you will. Take a look over there!" Ed jerked his thumb in the direction of a throng of squealing girls held aloft boldly printed posters that glorified the dashing younger Elric in his flying scarf and helmet, saluting the future, one foot resting on a cloud and the words ALPHONSE HERO OF THE SKIES glaring out in block letters.

Ed stared at his friends and his kid brother being mobbed and cheered and kissed and idolized. He picked up his battered suitcase and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. "What the fuck am I—chopped liver?" He shrugged his way through the crowd virtually unnoticed until an ear-splitting whistle attracted his attention.

"EDWARD! TOVARICH! Welcome to Drachma!" Suddenly Maxim, Alexi and Pyotir were pounding him on the back, snatching away his bundles and hugging him, all chattering away enthusiastically and gesturing to the people around them.

"Professor! We've found him! Edward, druk! Welcome to Stoltovgrad-"

"—don't worry, Tsarina! We found him! Come with us, my friend—"

"—bet you did not expect such a crowd, da? Everybody is talking about you—"

"—Professor Elric, would you please come this way? The Tsarina-"

He was half dragged, half carried through the multitude and he was blinking—the sun was in his eyes, the Tsarina was giving him a kiss (and a little pinch on his bum that made him yelp with surprise) and a microphone was being shoved at his face and he was trying to think of something coherent in Drachman that the non-Amestrian speakers would comprehend as a thanks for their greeting. "Please…enough…I really don't…ah…this is great, but we're just, y'know….please…da?"

The crowd went silent. A thousand-plus faces were turned on Edward Elric and they did not look quite so friendly anymore. Several soldiers shifted uneasily and laid their hands on their weapons.

Oh, shit.

Pyotir tapped him on the shoulder. "Allow me, my friend." The young blond scientist quickly rattled off what sounded like an apology and an explanation. Maxim then grabbed the mike, slung his arm around Ed's shoulder and shouted something that made the crowd burst into laughter. "Now," he whispered in Ed's ear, "bow to the Tsarina and tell her 'eez—vee-NEE-tyeh, Tsarina'."

Edward bowed, looking grave and nervous. "Eez vee NEE-tyeh, Tsarina. I'm not sure what I said but I would never say anything to hurt you. You and the Tsar have been great, and it's great to be here."

Ekaterina patted him gently on the shoulder. "It was not meant badly and I take no offense, my young friend." She spoke rapidly to the crowd and then the cheering and the music began again.

"Th-thanks, Ma'am. Um…what exactly did I say?"

She beamed at him. "You said 'please—da', which with your accent sounded very much like 'piz-dah', a word that makes reference to…shall we say…that which a lady possesses and a man covets? You understand?"

Bacalla lifted one eyebrow in disdain. "You called the Tsarina a cunt, you stupid git. On national radio."

Ed turned a remarkable shade of scarlet and glanced nervously at his brother. Alphonse made a slit-your-throat gesture and the frown on his face gave silent promise of some very sharp words that Ed was fairly certain he did not really deserve—not this time, at least.

###

As far as Elycia was concerned, this was the most fun she'd ever had during the summer. Maes and Nina were coming to play every afternoon and she would dress up in an old skirt and blouse of Mommy's and put on a pair of Daddy's old spectacles without any glass in them and she would play school with her young friends. Nina didn't know a lot of words but when Elycia chalked them out on the little black board easel Gracia had set up in the front garden under the trees Nina would repeat them back as long as they were simple, like 'cat' and 'ball' and 'hat'. Maes would parrot them back and then go back to scribbling circles on his writing tablet, using nearly every color crayon in the box.

It was almost time for snacks when a black car pulled up to the front gate. Elycia recognized the tall, dark haired man who got out and waved. "Mister Samuelson!"

Donal Samuelson, news anchor at Radio Capital, waved back and strolled over to say hello. "It's good to see you, Elycia. I've come to see your mommy about her radio show and take some pictures of her for the paper." He gestured to a sandy haired fellow with a camera. "This is Mr Foster from the Central Times. He is going to do a story about your mommy for the weekend paper. Won't that be nice?"

"Uh huh!"

Foster knelt down and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, little lady! Are you playing school marm with your friends?"

Elycia beamed. "Yes, sir! This is Nina and this—Maes, quit picking your nose, that's nasty!—that's Maes."

Maes offered the strangers a toothy grin. "I got a bug up my nose. You wanna see?" He tilted his blond head back and made snorting noises. "I wasn't picking boogers."

The little brunette with the green eyes scowled at the older boy. "Bad brudder!"

Elycia stared at Maes in horror. "Maes, did you shove a beetle up your nose?"

'Yah! It tickles!"

The elder girl rolled her eyes. "Mommmmmmmy! Maes stuffed something up his nose again!"

Gracia was out of the front door like a shot. "Not again!" she groaned. "Maes, honey, don't do that! "

"It will go up there," Elycia warned, " and lay eggs."

"EGG. E-G-G-egg!" Nina crowed triumphantly.

Foster turned to Samuelson. "Wait—is this…that's the Elric boy, isn't it? The one that was on the radio a few months with Frank Archer that was so funny?"

"He's not that funny right now," Gracia grumbled. She held a lacy handkerchief to the boy's nose and ordered him to blow out hard. There was a loud snort and Gracia eyed the content of the handkerchief with disgust.

"I told you it would fit," Maes taunted Elycia, and both men burst out laughing over the smug triumph on his little face.

"This is too good—Donal, can we angle this into the human interest feature on Mrs. Hughes? The readers will eat it up!" Foster began snapping photos of Maes and his crayons, Nina with her picture book and Elycia looking adorable in her daddy's glasses and a very flustered looking Gracia right in the middle, wiping snot and bits of dead beetle off her hands.

"Well…they've been on the radio all ready, so I'm sure their mom won't mind. I'll call Winry and see if it's okay. The kids are up here visiting their Uncle Roy."

Foster looked surprised. "They're staying up at the Palace with President Mustang?"

"Oh yes—they have playdates over here in the afternoon. Mr. Sebastian brings them 'round and then Mrs. Pinako picks them up and we all go for dessert at the bakery before they head back at the palace."

Nina glanced up and smiled up into Foster's camera. "Love Uunka Wroy!"

Foster zoomed in for a close up of Edward Elric's daughter. "Yes, honey. I just bet you do…."

###

Ed had just been reamed by his brother—and not in any way he would have found enjoyable had it been Roy. It stung being lectured by his kid brother—okay, maybe Al was only 10 months younger, but still…

He had showered and shaved, endured a five course dinner, half a dozen boring speeches and had eaten something called borsht that tasted weird and looked like homunculus blood. Maxim, Alexi and Pyotir had invited him out drinking but he waved them off. "I'm gonna call Roy…check in, let him know we're okay, y'know."

They let him off with a lot of teasing and knowing winks until Pyotir told them to lay off and leave him alone. Now Ed's evening dress was a rumpled pile in the middle of the guestroom floor and he was cursing at the international phone operator because of the shitty connection to Central. When he got through, Hawkeye answered the phone. "Sorry, Edward, but there was a last minute meeting of the Security Council. I'm afraid Roy won't be back for several hours. Shall I have him call you later?"

"Damn….yeah…uh…waitaminute. We're leaving at 5am to go to the dacha. Tell him….tell him I'll call him when we get settled in. It's a village called Komarovo. I'm sure they've got phones there."

"Understood." There was a long, significant pause. "Is there anything you'd like to tell him about, Edward?"

Edward wracked his brain. "Nope. Why?"

Hawkeye glanced down at the headline of the Central Times: "Foot-In-Mouth Disease Strikes Drachma Delegation: Tsarina States 'All Forgiven'". Mustang had been apoplectic and had Breda and Kain working away furiously at damage control over Edward's faux pas on top of keeping the story of the shooting attempt off the airwaves and out of the papers. "Nothing. Good evening, Edward."

"You too."

Sinking down onto the bed, his eyes fell on the duffle bag that contained the box from Spenser's Emporium. Glancing around nervously, he pulled it out and removed the lid. He contemplated the contents for several moments before gingerly removing the largest item, handling it as cautiously as if it were about to go off in his hand—and if it had been real it might have done precisely that.

"Well…it doesn't…" He ran a hand over the highly detailed surface.

It did, actually. The color wasn't the same, but the length and girth was pretty close, as was the generous thickness of the mushroomed tip. He sniffed at it, much as Black Hayate would have sniffed at a new chew toy. His face flushed. If Al had wandered in at that moment he would have died. His tongue flicked out. It didn't taste terrible, but it didn't taste Roy. The real thing would have pulsed and jumped when licked and flushed a purplish shade when sucked on—not that Ed was going to suck on this…thing. "I'm not that desperate….I'm not." What the fuck was he doing, addressing that hunk of pinkish rubber like it was the man he was missing tonight? He remembered the first time he'd put his face between Roy's thighs. If anyone had told him at fifteen that one day he'd put his hand down some guy's pants and touch his junk and put it in his mouth, Ed would have pounded the crap out of him—maybe. That was before he let himself think about things, thanks to Aunt Chris.

That first time, when Roy brought Ed home from the hospital in Central last winter, Ed had beaten Roy at chess and then leaned in awkwardly. He barely had a clue what he was doing, other than Roy had done the same thing to him before and it felt unbelievable. He had shoved his face between Roy's legs and just…stared at it, all purple and dripping and twitching as his breath warmed the sensitive flesh. You don't have to, Roy had whispered hoarsely, when what he wanted to say was please…don't stop. There was something about the scent that fired neurons in his brain that had his own cock screaming to be let out and touched and sucked at. The curls were fine and very soft, very black against the pale abdomen and the flushed manhood. There were snail-trails of moisture streaking the ivory skin and the look on Roy's face was desperate, even as he repeated over and over, you don't have to do this.

Yes, he did. Because he needed this. Wanted this. Wanted to give what he had been given. Wanted to make Mustang loose control as he'd done to Edward before, to break him, make him thrash his head and groan and call his name in the way that made Edward's stomach tie itself in knots and made his balls tighten up and want to rub himself all over that expanse of heated skin.

His hand was moving along the rubber phallus, his eyes squeezed shut. The cool artificial sac could be squeezed gently and he could feel something moving on each side—a bit larger than the real thing, but still… There was a suction cup at the base. Eyes still closed, Ed spat on his finger, wiped the moisture along its surface and then pressed it hard against the wall above the headboard. Rising to his knees, shaking, he couldn't stop himself from nuzzling the twin globes, sucking at them, the cool fleshy weight bobbing against his forehead. Stretching his neck, he caught it between his lips as his hands groped for his own length. He remembered how Roy's member began to swell even larger in his mouth, the veins standing out so he could trace them as he licked his way up to that little spot under the head where Roy had licked him and made him sob and bite at the pillows that first time. The cock in his mouth tasted bland and slightly chemical, not of salty skin and bitter slickness and Roy, but the tighter he squeezed and jerked at himself he could half imagine his man spread out, holding his shaking legs at the knees, hair damp with sweat and his chest slicked and glistening, black eyes wild, lips gnawed raw.

Edward….oh, god…yes…I'm…ohshit…I'm so—

"I want you to…"

And he did, and as the memory blazed behind his closed eyes Edward did as well, trying not to bite down on the phallus as he jackknifed and whimpered aloud, not caring that the headboard and the pillows he had been unconsciously humping would be spattered or that when he later pulled the object off the wall he tore a fist sized hole in the hand painted wallpaper. He tumbled back on the bed and pressed a finger between his cheeks, rubbing hard, imagining another hand, coaxing the last drops from his body, missing the warmth of that other's body and the soft, soft kisses that always followed in those rare unguarded moments after their tumultuous loving and drifting off to sleep.

"….roy….bastard…."

The phone rang, but he slept right through it. When he woke, he carefully washed and dried the toy, locked it away and tried not to thing of what he'd done—not out of shame, but because he would want to do it again-and soon.

###

Winry hung up the phone and smiled at Dr. Pitt Renbak, who was pouring Mr. Garfilel another cup of coffee. "That was the Central Times," she told them, her eyes dancing with delight. "Remember how Maes and Nina were on the Midday Amestris show with Frank Archer last winter? Well, looks like my little geniuses are going to be in the spotlight again?"

Garfiel paused, cup halfway to his rouged lips. "Howso, precious?"

"Well, " she scooted her stool up to the table and poured a splash of cream into her own mug, "seems they are doing a feature on Gracia—you know, Mrs Hughes—my friend in Central with the hobby show on Midday? Anyway, Maes and Nina were visiting and they just won over Mr. Samuelson and some guy from the paper, so they wanted permission to put their pictures in the paper with Elycia and Gracia, and they wanted to mention me—"

"—and Ed?" Garfiel asked.

"yes, of course Ed, too. So I said okay and they'll mention us at Godz Studio as well! Isn't that terrific?"

Pitt's eyes met Garfiel's. Not terrific, they agreed silently. "Do they need Ed's permission?" he asked carefully.

"Oh, no—just one parent—"

"Only you're not their legal guardian anymore. Not right now, sweetie. And forgive me for being Miss Buttinsky here, but I don't think Miss Izumi and Big Sig would be all that thrilled if somebody asked them to put those kids in the public eye."

Winry looked annoyed. "I don't see any problem!"

Pitt cleared his throat nervously. "Winry-you're probably right, but—well, your kids are going to be part of the Presidential household…rioht?"

"Well, yes but—Roy's been really responsible and Izumi says he cares for the kids-oh, and Granny says they're all getting along fine and all….what's the problem?"

"Maybe nothing. Maybe I'm just an alarmist." Pitt shook his curly head.

"You're being silly now," she smiled at her old friend. "I mean, who would want to harm the kids of the Fullmetal Alchemist—or President Mustang?"

…..TO BE CONTINUED…