Thanks everyone for your beautiful reviews! It's my birthday tomorrow, so in the spirit, I'm giving you another chapter:-)). Only one to go beside this, my friends. Indulge me.
Brynn

Chapter 6: Balance

I don't know him at all – I realise that yet again when he kisses me and the hand that has rested on my shoulder-blade moves down to my waist, brushes my hipbone and traces my thigh all the way to the knee. My breath catches.

I always thought that this would require a resignation of some sort, at least on one side. It doesn't, apparently. A man with decades of experience meets a boy with the tale of evolution cramped in his head. What could possibly go right?

I'm laughing into his mouth, but he has to be looking down at a sharp angle and it's going to kill his neck. Sometimes I hate my lack of height. But I don't think he would escape if I let go of him for just the shortest while… doesn't mean that I'm not afraid he would as I'm standing up, offering a hand to him. He ignores it, which is a rather good idea, because, despite the lack of alcohol, I don't have the best balance right now.

Damn it, he's tall. He's practically towering over me, and for a while of that irrational – or too rational – fear we just face each other, with a scary foot-wide space between us. I'm going to reach out for him and screw the consequences-

He's faster. He has pushed me backwards and with my balance in limbus I've fallen right on the sofa. I'm glad Ai-chan wasn't there – I'm glad she isn't in the room. Now he has me more or less at his mercy and knowing that I can't do anything makes adrenaline rush in my veins. But he's not leaving; he's leaning down over me and kissing me again, and I'm very deliberately taking his shirt off. He lets me. My hands tremble and I'm losing the line of my thoughts. I'm losing clarity.

I fucking love this feeling.

It's better than being drunk, better than I've imagined it could be. But now I don't want the time to stop. I'm unbuttoning my superior's pants. His hands have crossed all the borders of any definition of decency and now I want him to get them out from between my legs and use them to get off my cothes, but I sure as Hell won't be telling him. I'm going to do it myself if I have to.

I have to.

Roy is helpful enough to dispose of his half-stripped pants, and while he does that he can neither keep his hands in my groin nor hover over me, so I use the time to get off my own pants. The tank-top will have to wait – if at all it…

Roy's back and bolder than before. I hear unspoken that he has come to terms with the situation, embraced it mentally, and he will deal with it. Good. Because I don't think I could stop now. He pushes the top up and I feel his tongue on my chest… nearing a nipple. Nearing it slowly.

I can be a tease, too. But I don't feel like being one now. I'm going to let him have the upper hand for once in our lives. He… I'm losing coherency…

Losing the control over my hands… He's got me complying to anything… so easily… And there's a feather light kiss on the rib just next to the base of my automail… Pressure of his stomach against my erection… a full, deep, overwhelming kiss, with his tongue guiding mine rather than fighting; I've already lost…

And still, there's a small victory on my side. He wants to go all the way… I want him to go all the way… but he hadn't expected my… offer… I haven't quite either… More like just considering the option, still… Those're my trousers I reach in for the bottle and press it into his palm.

He pauses in surprise, and then chuckles. It's a low, rumbling sound from deep in his throat and it makes me arch into him… He didn't foresee what that would do to him – one of his arms gave out and I feel his weight on my chest… he's so, so dangerously close, filling all my perception…

Fine… I want to fill his perception… duh, I guess I already do. He's out of it. I mean totally. This is not Colonel Mustang, not the Flame Alchemist I swore to remember, this is Roy and right now he's mine. The lengths I go to.

He's propped up against his arm again and I can only suspect what he's doing because I can't seem to see past his face and shoulders. Turns out I was right when I feel his finger in my arse, and for some damn reason I just like it there, only… I guess I miss his warmth but can't be sure…

He can make even this sensual… must be some kind of talent… he's got fingers in my guts and I think it's sensual… He's moving them and I have to bite on my tongue to not plead with him, but in spite of everything I'm still me… I don't plead. Then he pulls the fingers out and-

Oh.

This is stran- don't think I've- like this- good-

Perfect.

I'm aware of breathing in. Roy's fallen, he's lying next to me with his collar-bone pressed against my shoulder and I want to cry. For a moment he had reduced my reality to searing white pleasure; a place with no truth and no consequences to it and that was the best I've ever felt in my life. I want to do it again. I want to go there and maybe die there… not die until Al has his body, though.

It all depends. All depends on him, on me, on Al, on fucking reality and fucking truth. I rarely get what I want. Roy's breathing is evening, but he isn't falling sleep.

Eventually he sits up, strokes the side of my face and reaches for the bottle. But he was sober. And I'll take that tidbit of information with myself to any of our future encounters.

He's drunk half of his glass when I finally force myself to sit up as well. I'm sore, from the train-ride rather than anything since then. That's what I want to believe anyway. He passes me the second glass. I take it, grateful. For everything. From the unsuccessful attempt to stop Al and me, through the help in becoming a National Alchemist, guidance during the past three years, being there for me when nobody else saw who I am inside and buying me alcohol, to this night. Roy Mustang must be the most wretched guardian angel ever.

I hate him and it doesn't matter because.

"What are you so happy about?" I growl when he starts chuckling under his breath. Roy and afterglow together is… disconcerting.

"You admitted it, Edward. You are old. Ancient."

Figured – that was it what made him cave in. I should have realised that he wouldn't take a normal fifteen-year-old to bed. To be honest, I didn't think he would take any male to bed, but you learn something new every day and Roy isn't exactly a person you can know even if you're working with him for years.

I wave my hand.

"Like you didn't know it before."

"I didn't know it. I suspected it."

Sheesh, another of my secrets is out to this jerk. I won't be able to sleep until somebody kills him…

But if somebody does… I will never be able to sleep again. I will never forgive myself, much the same way I'll never forgive myself what I did to Al.

"Will we repeat this sometimes?"

He shrugs.

"At least once."

"Why?"

"Because your brother is returning, and then you're leaving on a mission and there is always the chance that you won't come back."

Blimey. I never realised he cared about me so much. His voice is… plain sad. He… he fears losing me. It's just… crazy. We are crazy.

"Where to?"

"Lior."

I've heard about that. Lots of sand. I don't like sand.

"Why?"

"You're so curious, Hagane." Helps me stay alive. "Philosopher's Stone."

I nod and absently sip the wine. Am I not ridiculous? Sitting in my superior's upstairs lounge, drinking wine I cannot even legally buy, almost naked (only wearing a tank-top) after I slept with said superior (while I'm still under the age of consent) and thinking about creating one of the greatest taboos of Alchemy to undo another I did. Yup, my life is screwed.

"And, Edward, while you're at it, think of what will you do for the assessment. You won't have much time after you do come back."

He's smirking at me. Damn him.

I'm sane barely enough to realise that I'm doing something flipping crazy again, but not nearly enough to stop myself from putting my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to me and plunging my tongue into his mouth. He's chuckling. Damn him.

Roy Mustang, I'm officially finally going to find a way to wipe that smirk of your face. It's years too late, anyway.

A

"Edo… you idiot!"

That's Winry all right. I knew she was going to say that instead of 'hi Ed, how are you?' just as well as I know that she has a wrench in her hand aimed at my head. I duck. The spinning metal object passes above me and gets stuck in Mustang's door in the height of my waist. I gulp.

"Winry, that's not ni-"

"You destroyed it again?" she cries and Al is watching her uneasily as she grabs a suitcase from his hand and slamms it on Cain's desk. There is a crack of strained wood, but somehow the furniture remains standing.

The door behind me opens; I don't really hear or see it, not even a shadow, it's more of a sensation. The Colonel's eyes assess the situation (I know this; I don't have to look) and he raises an eyebrow.

"Alphonse. Has Edward told you of his next mission?" Damn it, I don't want to be left alone with Winry. She's going to maim me. Unintentionally, of course, but she doesn't know her own strength… Why did they have to catch me here? Why does Riza have to be out right now? Where is everyone anyway – oh yes, lunch. I'm going to die because everyone is stuffing their face…

"No, sir. Winry and I have just arrived."

"There's a mention of the Stone in-" Mustang pauses and looks at Winry, who's currently occupied by forcing me to sit in Jean's chair and put my hand on the desk.

Our eyes meet and, by the fleeting look on his face he had nticed how my skin's just a tone paler than usually and how my good hand trembles. I'm scared. I really am. I have a lot of physical pain in my life, but being unable to fight back – I could never hurt Winry – makes me feel totally helpless. Winry is my own personal Barry.

"Al, the objective is in the envelope on my bed. You go and read it while Winry fixes my hand, so we don't lose time." I'm grinning at him, and he doesn't notice that my voice is too carefully guarded.

"Broth-"

"Don't worry Al. I'll be alright."

He nods.

"Take care, brother. Winry, don't be too hard on him."

The girl humms something as I watch Alphonse leave; he's a quick reader and makes long strides, but even so Winry should be done until he comes back. It's only a few scorched contacts anyway…

She looks up from my fingers, reaches over for another wrench and scowles at me. I brace myself.

"Ed! You impossible idiot!"

The tool hits my head. I blink and to temporarily escape look up.

Winry strikes again, hitting the very same place. Roy flinches.

She doesn't know how this hurts, and Al doesn't know either. I'm the only one who does. I smile. It hurts like living Hell.

Mustang's eyes widen ever-so-slightly when Winry hits the same spot for the third time. He doesn't understand. Funny… If anyone could, it would be him. And she still hasn't noticed him, despite his short conversation with Alphonse. Ever since she stepped in the room she was in a full business-mode, skipping everything that didn't involve automail.

Roy raises an eyebrow, but I slightly shake my head and close my eyes. She's going to-

Oh. That hurts. Really hurts, not like a wrench impacting into my head.

A

It's over. My hand is as good as new, I thanked Winry, let her hug me, promised to come and visit her and Auntie Pinako and watched her leave the same way as Al did.

Roy's still standing in the doorway. I suspect he was there all the time, but I can't be sure. I have a tendency to sort of blackout, to escape the pain. Having automail detached and re-attached within half an hour – Winry is efficient – is taxing.

"Is it always like that?"

I laugh and have to steady myself by gripping the desk.

"This was mild."

I don't know which of the two possibilities is he referring to, but both answers are the same anyway. I pull myself up and for a while just stand, assuring myself that I am capable of it. I am.

I've taken a staggering step towards the doorway, when something catches me from behind and I don't feel up to fight. The realisation dawns at me when I find myself a meter something from the floor, facing Mustang. The bloody jerk-

Is carrying me into his office. I'm laid on the sofa. The door slams shut and he locks it the normal way.

"What's wrong with you, Edward?"

"I'm alright. Let me go – I have to pack-"

"You're not in the shape to go anywhere," he argues. He's wrong. I've done this before and nobody noticed. I can do this again.

"I'm fine. It's just a concussion. I'll live."

He's about to ask why do I let Winry do this to me, but stops himself. He knows. It's the same as… as when he lets Riza shoot at him. He could stop it. Easily. But doesn't. I couldn't stop it as easily, but I don't give a damn. I'm going to be sick a few times on the train, sleep it out, and before we reach whatever city it is where we dismount, I'll be fine.

"Edward-"

"I don't want you to patronise me, Roy," I force through clenched teeth and make to stand up. He doesn't let me.

"If a doctor saw you they would keep you in the hospital for-"

"Then it's a good thing that they don't see me," I snap irately and throw his hand off.

"Major Elric…"

I straighten my back. Don't you fucking dare forbid me to go.

"Make sure you do come back."