(Thirteen is a good number, especially for my sister, so this one is for her.)
Drabble Thirteen: Letters
Ed sat in Roy's chair, his human leg swinging back and forth as the other slightly swayed. He was reading the files on the desk, though he probably wasn't supposed to even know they existed. Roy wouldn't be back for a good half hour more anyways, so what did he care? Edward like reading the things Roy wrote, there were even a few personal letters in the mix.
Ed opened the bottom, and last to be looked through, drawer of the desk after carefully replacing the last drawer's contents. Ed blinked, realizing this, obviously scarcely opened drawer, was full of envelopes. All of the envelopes were taped –duct taped- shut. Ed picked up the first one, which was dated for the previous day in red ink. On the envelope's front was some sort of code. "EE L DNR CONF" were the carefully written letters. Ed stared at them, wondering if they stood for something, or if they were random or if Roy knew someone named "Eeldn Conf". Ed shrugged, tearing the envelope open (figuring he could replace the envelope without Roy noticing it was different) and unfolding the white stationary. He began to read.
"Dear; (what, do you not know who you're writing to? Ed thought)
This letter is the ninety fourth I've written to you. I've known you for a few years now and I think it's time I told you the truth. I love you. I love you a lot. When you storm into my office, growl, whine, get pissed at my short jokes and all of those other things you do, I just want to grab you, pin you down and make out with you until I die from lack of oxygen. But no, I restrain, I mock you and make you feel angry, though I wish I would just get down on my knees and kiss your feet until you either kicked me or realized how these things I do I only do so you notice me. I want you to remember my name. Because I know you have a busy life, you don't have time to remember a guy who doesn't do much. You remember people who tick you off though. So, this is it. I love you, and if I could have anything, outside the military, beyond the uniforms, it would be you. I mean, all of you, your love, your body… everything. Damn. I hate knowing you'll never read this, and even if you do, how will you know it's you? You better not go crawling through my drawers. I can picture you, sitting in my chair, feet barely if at all touching the ground since I always make sure it's high, the shredded envelope sitting on my desk, you scanning this like it's your death sentence, waiting for me to say who the hell I'm talking to. Well it's you! Assuming you, and I think only you would open a duct taped envelope, are someone who happens to have blonde braided hair, gold eyes, a foul temper and an easy to make fun of shortness. Yes, Edward Elric, I am talking to you. There, it's all out. In all the letters I've written I've never put your name, and now that I have, I feel oddly relieved. I wish you were really reading this, but that stuff only happens in stories. Not to people like me who just want to become Fuhrer and violate certain blondes. Well, I guess I should start on the paper work Hawkeye's been piling on my desk, or she'll come in here and turn me to Swiss cheese.
Love,
Roy Mustang"
Edward blinked. Ninety three more envelopes were torn open, all read meticulously, all piled neatly on the desk near the shreds of envelopes.
Roy sighed, pouring a fresh mug of coffee before wandering back to his office. He took a deep breath, Hawkeye looking up at him.
"Oh, Colonel sir, Edward Elric came by to talk to you a while ago, I think he went in there and fell asleep or something." Hawkeye recalled. Roy groaned.
Then paled.
Surely, Edward had indeed just gone to sleep somewhere, but what if he had decided to snoop about…
Roy carefully opened the door to his office, then without looking up closed it.
Edward jumped, having just started rereading a few choice letters.
Roy looked up at the blonde, then felt his heart stop, his stomach sink and his fist clench around the mug's handle.
"What are you doing?" Roy snapped, stepping forward to look over his desk, the shredded envelopes and the ninety four letters never meant to be seen by anyone's eyes but his own.
"Reading my mail, what does it look like?" Edward replied sharply, having come up with a plan somewhere in the midst of reading the letters.
"Those aren't for you." Roy said sternly, looking on the brink of kicking the desk over and setting everything –including Ed- ablaze.
"Yes they are. Everyone is for me, it says so in this letter." Ed rummaged through the pile of letters and handed the one with his name on it to Roy, who skimmed it. "I don't think I have time to reply to all of these in writing, so let me summarize it for you, since you're here and all."
Roy stood silently, waiting to be told to go to hell.
"No, you can't molest or violate me. I am not going to let you kiss my feet, the hearts all over letter nine freaked me out, you're a total weirdo and have my permission to at random pin me down and make out with me. You should stop putting yourself down, I am not wearing a miniskirt unless it's custom made and I get it as a present, I do remember your name, you're mug is not ugly, don't be so hard on it. Oh, and you should stop writing letters to me, sealing them in envelopes with duct tape and cramming them into the bottom drawer of your desk without telling me that's my new mailbox." Edward explained, all rather quickly.
Roy blinked. He put his mug down on a few envelopes that smashed themselves down, then walked around the desk and looked at Ed.
"So, I've been wasting my evenings." Roy sighed.
"Nope. I expect more of these letters, they're fun." Ed grinned. Roy smirked, disregarding the fact he had loads of paperwork to do and deciding it was one of those times he needed to pin Ed down and make out with him.
A few weeks later, when Ed was in Risenbool visiting Winry, Roy was writing something that was not the paperwork Hawkeye had given him. She walked into the office, planning on putting a few more papers on the pile while Roy was at lunch, blinking when he was still there.
"It's your lunch hour, sir." Hawkeye stated, putting the papers down.
"Yes it is. But I have an important letter to write." Roy said very seriously.
"I see." Hawkeye saluted, then walked from the room.
Roy smirked, adding a few more hearts to go around Ed's name.
End drabble thirteen.
Roy writes "important" letters. (laugh) I'm glad you loved the last drabble sirius'sheelah. I'm sorry this one's a bit longer than "drabble" length... accidents happen.
