Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.
Author's Note:
Hi all! Sorry about the delay in updating - life got away from me for a bit. I'm still wrestling it back under control, but I had to find the time to get this next chapter out after all the lovely, supportive reviews I got on the last one – thank you all so much! You kept me afloat through a very difficult period, and I hope this next chapter lives up to all your expectations – I assure you that I'm already working on my knitting of the next one. I was quite surprised that what many people responded to most the last go around was Ed and Winry's little conversation, but I'm so glad that there are other people out there who see their relationship in much the same way that I do. Who better than her to smack a little sense into Ed's head so that we can get to the shamelessly mushy public proclamations of undying love and affection?
Okay, get real. That last bit's never happening in this AU of mine. First of all, Auric would have hives. Secondly, it wouldn't be terribly in character for either Ed or Roy. Any statements of affection in public are likely to be short, sweet, and cloaked in banter. They're men of action when it comes to their personal lives, remember, and words and secrets are only spoken openly between the two of them, certainly not in public and never in front of Ling. But we can do a lot with that, believe me! If not in this chapter, then in the next. Much love (and please do leave a review if so inclined; I'm back to answering them personally now that life has calmed down a bit!) – NF.
Chapter 35: Family
Major Alphonse Elric rocked himself nervously forward on his toes, then back on his heels, his leather dress shoes making a satisfying crackle on the gravel driveway that curved gracefully around the massive geodesic dome that served as the inauguration pavilion. He had designed it together with Ed, the brothers falling into their usual easy rhythm of teamwork: Ed dreaming up the basic structure in a flash of inspiration before wandering off leaving Al methodically working through how it could be done most efficiently; Al fiddling with the details that turned aesthetics into art and good enough into genius while Ed fretted over issues of speed, security and structural safety. Nothing like it had ever been done before, but judging from the impressed murmurs of the guests as they arrived and passed through into the soaring interior, they were going to see many copies of their design before long. Oh well, an alchemist was supposed to serve the people.
Just in case though, he'd already registered the basic form in the name of the Fullmetal and Earth Moving Alchemists to ensure they received the royalties they were entitled to. Integrity of State Alchemist research and all that, and anyway, it was his job to take care of this sort of thing since it would never actually occur to Ed. That was why they made such a good team, he thought fondly, though there were times he felt like the older brother. Speaking of which…said older brother was late. As was Winry. He was about to start pacing when an official car pulled up and out they tumbled, slightly out of breath. Al turned to greet them and felt his own breath catch in his throat at the sight of his wife, her cerulean eyes sparkling and her winsome face framed by a few dangling curls, the rest of her hair pulled back into an elegant upsweep.
Ed grinned knowingly at the young couple, his eyes soft with affection. "Hey Al. Brought you your wife – sorry we're late but someone couldn't decide which dress to wear, and then she wouldn't stop fussing over my uniform. Please take her before I strangle her. And remember," he hissed in a stage whisper, "you like her better in blue and no, it does not make her look fat."
Al laughed and offered his blue-clad wife his arm, which she took after pointedly smacking Ed upside the head. "Ready? I saw Major Hawkeye go in a couple of minutes ago, she mentioned that she was looking forward to catching up with you, Winry. Coming in with us, brother?"
Ed and Winry smiled toothily, and Al eyed the two blondes dubiously – those grins had never boded well in the past, and he didn't think they did now. His wife tugged meaningfully at his sleeve. "Come on, Al. Ed needs to make an entrance. Alone."
"Why?" Al asked, puzzled. "Winry, you know Ed hates attention, and anyway, who does he need to impress? Everyone's impressed enough as it is! There are hordes of photographers in there waiting to get a photo of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist."
His brother colored and kicked a hapless pebble viciously, and Winry smirked. "Excellent."
Jean Havoc ran a finger around the stiff high collar of his mess dress. As a concession to her parents, Riza had opted to arrive with them, and so he was stuck playing the waiting escort. Gay laughter swirled about him as guests moved easily through the many rooms within the dome, all of them radiating off the central large room that was the focus of the pavilion and from which one could look straight up and see the vaulted interior of the massive curved ceiling rising far above. Everyone seemed inordinately pleased and happy and at ease, and it was making him feel increasingly miserable. He felt horribly out of place in this grand gathering, and not for the first time, he envied Roy Mustang his easy social graces with all his heart.
"Stop fidgeting, Jean. And the collar would be a little less uncomfortable if you would stop slouching." Speak of the devil.
"Geez, Roy – uh, I mean, Fuhrer Mustang, sir – way to scare a man out of his skin!"
The dark-haired man who had suddenly materialized by his shoulder arched a brow elegantly and folded his hands neatly behind his back, which was held straight but relaxed – he certainly seemed comfortable enough. "As long as you stay in your uniform – I don't want to be stuck explaining your nakedness to Baron Hawkeye. Square those shoulders, man, this is a military ball, not a bar."
Feeling as though he were on parade and under review, Jean opened his mouth, then shut it again with an audible click. Regardless of the boss's conviction that Roy was still his friend, this was the de facto ruler of Amestris he was speaking to, and if the passage of time and his long service in the military had taught him anything, it was that it was always safest to hold one's tongue in public. Perhaps Riza was rubbing off on him. "Yes, sir."
Roy raised an eyebrow. "It's just friendly advice for making a good impression on Riza's parents, Jean. We're speaking as friends. You can call me by name, you know."
"Yes, sir…I mean, Roy. Sir. Ah, hell." His mouth just wasn't cooperating. Perhaps the copious amounts of champagne he had downed in an attempt to calm his nerves had been a bad idea? Gods, he could use a smoke.
A flicker of amusement rose in Roy's eyes. "Riza really has you trained. Is she here yet?"
"No." A terse reply, but Roy didn't seem to take offence at it. Havoc could see numerous important personages hovering around the military pair, obviously trying to attract the notice of the Fuhrer, but Roy seemed to be oblivious. Which meant, knowing Roy, that he was deliberately ignoring them to make a point.
"The Baron always was one to arrive 'fashionably late'." Havoc snuck a quick glance at his superior officer, who was now carefully not looking at Jean. He was wearing a wry smile that made the younger man recall late-night drinking sessions, their jackets thrown carelessly over the backs of chairs, sleeves rolled up and cards laid out before them as Hughes teased Mustang about his romantic dalliances and Armstrong babbled on about some family tradition and Riza rolled her eyes and laid out her winning hand, and he suddenly realized that Mustang was trying to show him that he, Jean Havoc, was still someone of importance in his life. Someone the Fuhrer would pay attention to over others. Someone he considered a friend. He gaped dumbly, and Roy politely ignored that too, as he continued, "He has some misguided notions stuck in that thick skull of his, but he's actually all right once you get to know him. Riza's his only daughter; he tends to be a little protective. Just treat her well and demonstrate what an…outstanding young man you are, and he'll come around. And if not…."
"If not?" Havoc's voice was very quiet, and Roy seemed to notice, because he finally looked him in the eyes. Jean could almost feel the surge of confidence the man was able to project to his subordinates – he would swear he could feel his spine stiffening under that midnight gaze. The Fuhrer finally nodded and allowed his gaze to drift past Jean's shoulder.
"It's a terrible thing for a noble to be in the Fuhrer's bad books," Roy drawled finally. "Wouldn't you agree, Baron? Tends to lead to all sorts of unfortunate accidents with the estate."
Havoc whirled around, his heart leaping into his mouth at the sight of the Baron and Baroness Hawkeye. Riza stood slightly behind them like a dutiful daughter, but rather than the voluminous yards of chiffon and lace the other women in the hall were wearing, she was dressed in mess dress, a cropped jacket, red sash and long dark skirt that should have been lost amidst the finery, but which instead made her hourglass figure standout all the more. Her medals and ribbons were pinned proudly to her chest, and as their eyes met and her small chin came up determinedly, he knew she had chosen to wear her uniform to the ball rather than the optional civilian gown female officers were allowed to remind her parents of where her choices and her loyalties lay. And in that instant, he loved her more than ever.
The Baron snorted, and Jean had to admire his composure in the face of a smirking Roy Mustang; greater men had quailed before that feline gaze. "Fuhrer Mustang. My…congratulations on your promotion." The portly man looked like he wanted to say something else, but Roy stopped any further words with the barest quirk of a brow.
"Thank you. Might I present one of my longest-serving and most trusted subordinates, Captain Jean Havoc?" Though phrased as a question, it was obviously a statement that brooked no opposition, and the Baron knew it.
"Thank you; we have met. Captain Havoc."
"Baron, Baroness, it is good to see you again," Havoc managed, bowing over the Baroness's glove, proud that he wasn't stuttering with surprise at the Baron's conciliatory tones. His mother had always taught him to be polite to his elders, and that ingrained courtesy was something he knew he could lean on without conscious thought. "Major Hawkeye."
Riza smiled. "Jean," and the use of his first name made him start and look into those laughing auburn eyes. "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"
"I…of course," he said hesitantly, shooting a quick look at the Baron, who returned it with an impassive one of his own. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"
"Father?" Riza asked demurely.
The graying man harrumphed noisily. "Well, go on then, child. Spend some time with your young man. You treat her like the lady that she is now, you hear?"
Jean nodded, dumbfounded, and offered his arm to Riza, who smiled graciously in response and took it. As he led her into the line forming for the next dance, he was still shaking his head bewilderedly, and she must have noticed, because her next words were, "I had a talk with Father. He understands, Jean." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Of course, it did help to see you talking so intimately with our new Fuhrer. Father's not stupid – he recognizes power when he sees it, even if it does take some yelling to beat it into his head. The old titles of nobility are starting to lose their luster, even for those who still possess them."
"You asked Roy to do that?" Havoc flushed. He should have known Roy was using his influence for Riza's benefit.
Riza rolled her eyes. "Please. Roy's not an idiot, and he's known my family for years. And since when have I ever been able to get him to do anything without holding a gun on him? Anything he did, he did out of concern for you. For us," and with that she rested her head on his shoulder lightly. "He may be Fuhrer now, but he's still our friend, Jean."
Jean turned and looked back at the tall figure of the new Fuhrer. Roy simply smiled through his lashes at them, one of his rare unguarded smiles that could light up a room with its warmth, then turned away to speak to the Baron and Baroness. How he could ever have doubted the man, Jean didn't know, but he vowed that never again would he listen to his demons of insecurity. He was here, and Riza was here, and they had good friends who cared about them and watched over them. That made them family, didn't it?
He felt like the luckiest man in all the world.
"Yes. Yes, he is."
"The Earth Moving Alchemist and wife, Major and Mrs. Alphonse Elric!"
Roy's attention was drawn by the announcement which rang out over the strains of the orchestra and the muted clinking of glasses and general gaiety of his guests. He excused himself politely from speaking to the Duchess of Baden-Baden, who seemed intent on presenting her daughter to him. The young lady was personable enough, an accomplished equestrian who bore an unfortunate resemblance to the horses she rode, and she smiled apologetically as she dropped him a curtsey – it wasn't her fault her mother seemed determined on denying the fact that Roy had absolutely no interest in having yet another potential partner foisted upon him. He was quite happy with his choice, even if said choice was a skittish, temperamental, fiery blonde with an ego all out of proportion to his actual physical size, and who hadn't given any indication one way or another that he would be comfortable being thought of in that manner, and who might not have yet quite realized that he was – or would be in time – regarded in that manner by everyone. The Fuhrer sighed.
He and Maes had a bet riding on what Ed would do to the first person to call him Consort to his face.
It had taken a good deal of determination to keep his hands off his young lover most of the day, but Roy was willing to put his considerable willpower to work on the issue if it would keep Ed happy, although that resolve had been sorely tested after the annoying Ambassador from Xing had…well, he still wasn't entirely sure what had transpired between the two, but Ed had seemed to welcome Roy's none-too-subtle assertion of territorial dominance. His eyes narrowed at the memory and he scanned the crowd for Ling Yao, finally spotting the brightly dressed young man swirling around the floor delightedly in a brocaded swish of bright yellow, seemingly preoccupied with his dance partner, much to Roy's satisfaction – it would seem that assigning Maria Ross to chaperone the ambassador had been a good idea. That taken care of, he continued on his previously appointed task to find and greet the Elrics.
Winry spotted him first, and she nudged Alphonse, who turned and lifted a gloved hand in greeting. Roy wondered absently which array the young alchemist had chosen – mess dress for State Alchemists included their signature white gloves with a difference: the gloves were marked with a favored array to differentiate them from the white dancing gloves the other attendees would be wearing with their white-tie. He smiled pleasantly at the young couple as he made his way towards them, the crowd parting respectfully for its new Fuhrer.
"Fuhrer," Al greeted respectfully.
"After all we've been through, Alphonse, you can call me Roy," the Fuhrer smiled wryly. "At least at social functions. Have you seen your brother?"
Winry snorted. "To the point, aren't we? What are we, chopped liver? We're practically family. We should be able to call you whatever the hell we want whenever we want."
"Good point," mused Roy. "Automail-freak."
"Stuck-up military dog. Just for that, I'm not telling you where Ed is – and neither are you, Al!" Winry grumbled as she tugged her husband towards the dance floor. Al waved apologetically as they disappeared into the crowd.
Roy watched them go, amused. Just then the guard at the door called out again:
"The Fullmetal Alchemist, Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric!"
The waltz playing was almost drowned out by the rustling of gowns, as those guests not circling the dance floor turned with an expectant air towards the main doors, which swung open with a bang to reveal a slim figure in uniform. Roy blinked at the vision and felt an odd thump beneath his breastbone at the sight of his lover, only just now realizing that he'd half-expected Ed to bail on the ball despite his promise the previous night. A genuine smile tugged at his lips as the Fullmetal Alchemist tilted his head slightly in rueful acknowledgement of his audience and began to make his way slowly down the stairs towards the main floor, pausing every few steps to flash a quick roguish grin through his bangs for the rabid mob of photographers thronging his path as easily as though he had been doing it his whole life.
While Ed's smile lacked its usual brilliance, only those who knew him well would have been able to detect his discomfort in the tension of his shoulders as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets until only a sliver of white glove cuffing the end of his sleeves could be seen. His bright head gleamed in the lambent candlelight reflecting off every polished surface, creating a warmly glowing nimbus about his face that contrasted startlingly with the dark, dark midnight blue of his high-collared mess dress. The short, fitted jacket hugged Ed's trim figure flatteringly, the cutaway front falling smoothly over the crisp white waistcoat that hid the waistband of the long dark pants, which broke perfectly over the black shoes that had been shined to a mirror-like finish. Rank insignias glittered at throat and sleeve as he turned gracefully this way and that, nodding courteously at greetings and politely evading questions with a practiced ease that suggested that Auric was very much the persona in control at the moment, since the Edward Elric of old would have been a seething mess of gritted teeth, flying braid and alchemic energy by now.
Well, the ponytail was still quite fetching, Roy thought firmly, especially when Ed tipped his head just so and he could trace his eyes along the line of the younger man's jaw and follow it all the way up to the tempting fall of lustrous gold. In his admittedly biased opinion, never had a uniform looked quite so good on any person that he could think of - and that included his juvenile fantasies of making all the females in the military wear miniskirts – and then all coherent thoughts flew out of Roy's mind as Ed's gaze swept around the room and settled squarely on Roy. He could feel the heat emanating from those glowing amber eyes and the answering flush in his own face even as he fought to keep his expression under control, meeting Ed's pointed stare evenly and allowing a slow smirk to spread over his face as he inclined his head fractionally in acknowledgement. To his surprise, Ed didn't nod, or smile, or wave. Instead the young alchemist continued to stare levelly at the new Fuhrer, his face oddly expressionless but his heavy-lidded gaze smoldering. Long seconds passed, enough for the rabid press to turn around, realize the object of Ed's focus and begin speculating excitedly about what-this-all-means and could-it-really-be and isn't-it-just-so-romantic and please-tell-me-someone's-getting-a-picture-of-this.
And then, as if he had merely been waiting for the wave of whispering to crest, Ed smiled predatorily, tossed his head and cast one last lingering glance at the Fuhrer before turning sharply on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. Roy stared after him, feeling oddly let down and suddenly chilled from the loss of that burning gaze on him. He stood stock still trying to catch his breath and figure out what the hell had just happened. The smirk on Ed's face had been eerily familiar, although he couldn't quite place it…he frowned, tapping his fingers lightly against his chin and froze as the answer came to him. Of course it was familiar, it was the same expression he'd practiced a thousand times in the mirror. The devil-may-care, rakish curl of lip and glint of eye that brought women and men alike to their knees begging. That expression that said he knew he was desirable and worth a merry chase. That look that said: if you want me, come and claim me.
So that was how Ed wanted to play it tonight, was it? It was all very arousing, actually, and he felt a pleasant heat pooling deep within as long-unused instincts stirred and awoke. Roy's dark eyes gleamed. This dog of the military had just scented its prey. The hunt was on.
Ed feinted left and dodged behind a convenient potted plant. The annoying thing about the soaring dome that Al and he had dreamt up for the inauguration was its lack of interior supporting pillars, which was stunning architecturally, but provided attractive young men intent on escaping the attentions of hordes of desperate young women with few places to hide. He sighed with relief as the earnest looking brunette swept by in a rustle of what appeared to be silk and lace stitched together into some kind of frothy concoction. The only thing frothy he wanted right now was a good, cold stein, which unfortunately wasn't being served at the reception, so he made do with the next best thing, deftly lifting a champagne flute off a passing waiter. The cold fizz on his tongue was simultaneously soothing and refreshing, and he was just beginning to relax again when he bumped into someone passing behind him and turned to apologize, only to have the words die on his lips as he stared up into Roy's eyes.
Only the face behind them wasn't Roy's face.
Midnight blue eyes, so dark as to appear velvet black by candlelight narrowed and appraised Ed coldly. There were more lines around these eyes though, lines of pain and cruelty and pride and loss. A fiercely curved beak of the nose gave the narrow face a hawkish expression, and lips withered by age drew downwards in a scowl. Streaks of grey at the man's temples gave him a vaguely sinister air that was distinctly out of place in the buoyant atmosphere prevailing.
"So good to know that members of our fine military continue to be esteemed for their good manners when rudely assaulting civilians."
The words were harsh and intended to offend, and had Ed been four years younger he might have taken the bait. But the fact was that he wasn't, and this man had nothing on Roy when Roy wanted to be offensive, so Ed merely inclined his head fractionally in a manner that conceded nothing. "My apologies. I didn't see you there."
The thin lips curled in an unnervingly familiar fashion. "Do you know who I am, boy?"
"No. Should I?" Ed said with a deliberate nonchalance that concealed the lie even as he choked down a reflexive desire to clock the speaker for the implication about his height. Though he had never met the man before, had never even seen a picture, he knew exactly who the older man was – it was written in the depths of his eyes and on the elegance of the bones beneath his skin, in the grace of his stance, powerful and commanding despite his advanced age, and in the air of entitlement he wore about his shoulders despite the shabbiness of the coat that had seen better days. Traits of the high nobility.
Traits at least one of the sons of his blood had inherited.
" 'O tempora! O mores!' But no doubt the sentiment is lost upon your ill-educated ears. There would have been a time, boy, when I could have had your life for such insolence!" growled the Grand Duke Maximillian St. Just.
Ed rolled his eyes. Amazing. He really did seem to draw the pompous self-important louts like moths to a flame, didn't he? "Oh please. As if you're one to go on about morals," and the aristocrat started. "You don't know me, but I can assure you that my knowledge of the Latin far outstrips yours. Professional hazard. But if it helps you feel better about yourself, hey, who am I to interfere?" He raised his champagne flute in a mocking toast, noting how the Grand Duke's eyes flickered as his gaze fell on the neatly embroidered caduceus and crown on the back of his glove. Al's gloves bore the snake and the cross, lovingly embroidered by a surprisingly deft Winry, and if anyone had thought it odd that two of the most famous State Alchemists had chosen atypical alchemic symbols instead of the usual arrays, no one had been stupid enough to bring it up. "And that's State Alchemist or Colonel to you."
"A dog of the military." The contempt in the harsh voice, wavery with age, was nonetheless clear.
Ed shrugged. "What can I say. A moment of temporary insanity in my youth, you know what it's like when you're young. Oh, wait, I'm sorry – you probably can't remember that far back, can you?" The thought crossed his mind momentarily that he was sounding a lot like Roy in his younger, less guarded days – or had that guard only ever been dropped for Ed? - but he didn't really care. The champagne was going to his head – he hadn't had any dinner – but that was all right, really; the slight haziness made it that much easier to allow Auric's instincts to take over. And as the Gatekeeper was much better at keeping his temper and doing the social thing, Ed thought it was probably for the best.
Even if the man had been a complete and utter asshole, he wasn't entirely sure that Roy would want his father turned into a pillar of salt at his inauguration. Ed had been a Gatekeeper for four years. He'd dealt with warlords and despots, he could deal with a Grand Duke. He would be calm and adult….
"Amazing that they allow children into the military now. Whose bed did you have to warm in order to be promoted this quickly?" drawled St. Just contemptuously.
And perhaps Ed would just forget about the calm and adult bit.
"I earned every fucking thing I've ever gotten in blood and death, asshole," Ed growled, and the sudden change from indolent young officer to battle-hardened veteran poised for a fight made St. Just step back involuntarily. There was a sound like breaking ice as Ed's grip snapped the thin stem of the glass he was holding, and the Grand Duke's eyes widened as Ed brought his fingers together briefly and mended the glass in a quick crackle of alchemic energy without breaking his stare. Ed sighed to himself - he'd been on the receiving end of enough lectures from Roy about 'The Military Is Not A Bottomless Pit Of Money', 'Budget Balancing And Cost Control' and Roy's all-time favorite, 'You Blew It Up, You're Paying For It' to know it was better for all concerned if Roy never saw the broken glass. "I'd be happy to arrange a demonstration if you like. Although dying is too good for the likes of you. Grand Duke St. Just."
"So you do know who I am," and there was the faintest touch of complacent, smug pride in the time-ravaged face.
"Yeah - the last of a line whose time is past," Ed retorted, and was gratified to see anger leap into the man's face. "It must kill you to be here and see our new Fuhrer and to think of all that could have been if you'd been a better man."
"How dare you!" spluttered the man incoherently, aware of the whispers and of the crowd of spectators starting to form around the duo. The fact that the new Fuhrer was his…bastard was common enough knowledge among the Amestrian elite, but to have the fact flung in his face was unbearable. "I will have your hide for this, Colonel…." He trailed off, realizing that he still didn't know who the enigmatic, fiery young alchemist before him was.
Ed scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. Please." All the pent-up stress of his no-good-very-bad day was bubbling to the surface; he was spoiling for a fight, St. Just deserved it and he really couldn't get into trouble if the old man started it, could he?
"I demand satisfaction! And a name, so that I may know who to send your corpse to," came the sneer.
The blonde threw his head back and laughed. He really couldn't help it – the whole situation was just so very amusing. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?" He set his flute down on a tray held by a passing waiter and rubbed his hands together gleefully, flexing his fingers and hearing the crack as they reveled in their new freedom after having been cramped around a pen for most of the day. "Let me explain something: I've died before. Twice. It holds no fear for me. And as for my name…" his eyes glinted ferally as a memory from years ago floated to the surface, and his lips quirked in wry amusement remembering a pair of children on a train platform and a darkly handsome arrogance, and the words came unbidden to his lips. The bastard Colonel really was rubbing off on him, he thought almost giddily.
"You can call me Edward Elric. Or just Lieutenant Colonel. Hell, you can even call me the Fullmetal Alchemist. But whatever you do…."
"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist?" the crackly old voice was now incredulous. "You're still a stripling - barely even a man! How could you have done all those things people speak of?" And then a distasteful realization seemed to strike the old man as he gasped, "You're the lover he's been flaunting to the papers!"
"Yep, that would be me on both counts," Ed snarled without hesitation. "Emphasis on the latter. By the way, ability and age aren't related, asshole. Which is more than I can say for you and the Fuhrer, unfortunately."
Faint veins of red started to radiate outwards from the dark suns of the old man's eyes. "You have no right to speak of things you know nothing about! Do not think for one moment that being my son's catamite gives you any right to address me in this manner!"
"Oh, so now he's your son!" Ed roared back, wanting to hurt this man for hurting Roy, completely missing the slight to himself and utterly unheeding of the audience that had gathered around them, Ling Yao prominently in front with a delighted grin on his face. It was such a privilege to watch a qilin about to punish evil! Edward would definitely appreciate that Ling had even dragged over a few selected members of the press to record this for posterity. "Pity you didn't realize that back when you had the chance to be a real father instead of a complete jerk who let his son be beaten for things that weren't his fault!"
"I let him live! I gave him an education out of the goodness of my heart, let him hear the same lessons as my heirs! I was teaching him that no one owed him a living in the world, and I would have had him as my estate manager once he had learned his place! And he repaid me by running away and dabbling in alchemy. He was turned by that tutor I fired…" and then the old man looked thunderstruck as he stared at the golden-haired spitfire before him, things abruptly falling into place. The same hair…the same eyes.
The same last name.
"Blood is blood, huh, St. Just? Funny, neither Roy nor I asked to be the sons of our fathers, but here we are. If it makes you feel any better, Hohenheim Elric was a real asshole too. Maybe he picked up parenting skills from watching you." Ed cocked his head to one side, appraising St. Just narrowly. "But at least he went one better and actually gave me his name."
"Along with your charming personality, no doubt," came a wry and familiar drawl. "Fullmetal, must you always get yourself into these situations? I know you have a short temper, but really…."
And Ed looked away from one pair of midnight blue eyes and into another pair that danced with silent amusement, a crooked smile on his face. "Shut up, bastard. I'm doing it for the man I love."
