On The Front
Most of all, a part of him admitted, he wanted to come home to his annoying, alluring Colonel.
Author's Note: So I was bitten by the plot bunny bug and decided to somewhat continue this "series." This is probably going to become a series of interconnected shots – more like flashes of Roy and Ed's life on the warfront. It would help if you read the earlier entries because I'll be playing off some details in the beginning chapters. (like Ed's reflections on the lighter, which made its appearance in the first chapter). More notes at the end on where this is going…
Polished and shined by my beloved beta, starstruck272.
FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu.
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It was eerily silent all around him, save the steady crunch of his black boots upon the gravel strewn land beneath his feet. It was an unnatural silence, like the calm just before the storm: an unnatural void that spoke of a lack of life. The hush stalked him, raised the fine hairs at the back of his neck and set all his senses on sharp alert. Like a deadly plague, the war had driven all wildlife away and destroyed most of the natural habitat, leaving a barren blight on the face of the earth.
Ed wore his concentration around him like a protective cloak, and tried to put the memories of last night in a secure corner of his mind where it would not distract him, except he kept hearing an undertone beat.
It wasn't that he had forgotten, or even allowed another goal to overshadow the most critical promise he had made in his short life, but the slow, thrumming thud of a heartbeat just under his ear was addicting and calming at the same time.
Edward Elric was never well-known for his patience. Like his constant illogical outbursts about his height, his immediate reaction to the realization that grudging respect had turned a deadly distracting something, he immediately took steps to confront it, for once not consulting his brother and walking this road alone.
Edward wasn't the type of person to lie to himself. He wasn't the type that anyone took advantage of either. So when he crashed into Mustang's office late one night, stared his superior in the eye and deliberately dragged the dark head down towards him to partake in a heated but oddly contained kiss, the Colonel didn't ask any questions. When Edward had paused for a moment, amber eyes aglow behind his fringe of gold, glaring up in challenge into those deep sapphire orbs and sharp features, Mustang merely spoke one sentence.
"You've been adult enough to enter the military at the age of twelve, and the years have granted you the maturity you lacked at that age; I dare say you won't regret this decision, Fullmetal?"
Edward crossed another doorway that night, one that he had consciously chosen despite all the insecurities and obstacles his quick mind kept tossing in his path.
After all, the young blonde man had always flirted with the forbidden – dancing between the lines of physical attraction and no small amount of lust, the danger of Roy being caught for fraternization never quite overcoming good common sense. Roy seemed willing to risk it all; in the clear-cut world of equivalency, Edward was fine with their strange relationship and never asked for more.
They never talked about it, never went through the conventional period of courtship. Roy never wooed him, had hardly showed deference towards him other than in terms of age and experience, perhaps. That, most of all, was what drew Edward towards the man in the first place. For a child that had been singled out and marked for most of his life, the sudden, almost anonymity of being regarded as that annoying brat he enjoyed with Roy was almost a blessing.
It was always volatile mercury and sparks between them. Mustang was sleek, manipulative and serenely cool; Edward was the catalyst tossed into the equation that always managed to break the Flame's equilibrium. He had enjoyed it for a time - loved watching that calm, calm façade shimmer and fall apart, those blue eyes grow dark with irritation, his confident attitude quickly degrading to resemble that of a haughty, sulking tomcat. At night, between the sheets in a dimly lit room, they grappled for dominance. The change between them was undeniable, the animosity that had always crackled in their midst gradually tinting with sexual tension.
It wasn't until Edward found that he no longer thought of the man as the Flame, Colonel, Mustang but just as plain Roy that he started to suspect. One night, when he was content to lie still, skin flush against bare skin, head tucked just above Roy's heart, he knew.
That one night, Edward had closed his eyes, listening to the life-melody of Roy's heartbeat thudding reassuringly under his ear, and acknowledged that somewhere along this eccentric, bumpy road, his mix of respect/attraction had turned into deep-seated love.
He wasn't as adverse to the idea as he had always imagined himself to be.
Today, the Fullmetal and Flame Alchemist walked the warfronts, taking the offensive in two completely different directions in an effort to push the enemy back. With a grim smile, his hair a blazing beacon even amidst the dust clouds, Ed clapped his hands together, blue alchemic energy already flashing even before he worked the alchemy needed to bring a small earthquake down on the heads of his enemies.
He didn't like killing, half-glad he had been forbidden to engage the enemy at close enough range to fight with his transmuted automail blade, making the deaths more personal… and yet, he hated using his alchemy this way; a long distance, dehumanizing killing.
He'd leave the battle zone with scars on his body and on his soul, but he thought of Al, of the long-sought feelings he had finally found in Winry, of Aunt Pinako, Rizembul, the almost-home town of Dublin, and all the civilian folk in Central. Then there were all the personnel in Roy's division, all of them friends forged with trust. As a state alchemist, he was duty and honor bound to fight for the military, but it was not duty that Edward willingly joined the war for.
Most of all, a part of him admitted, he wanted to come home to his annoying, alluring Colonel. With the grace of a sleek panther, Roy had taken Edward's changing feelings in stride, adjusting to the metamorphosis of their relationship as their time together became more intimate, tempered and filled more with comfortable silences of companionship rather than their previous, fast-paced actions. The change came as natural as breathing and alchemy.
Natural as it had been, however, Ed hadn't come right out and admitted to Roy that there was more than just physical lust and attraction between them. His dignity and a small childish side (that he would never admit out loud; barely even tolerated thinking, in fact) of him wouldn't allow him to do so. That was, of course, until he had finally grabbed the horse by the reigns and shoved that lighter into Roy's all-too talented fingers.
The idea had stormed on him out of the blue, like one of his genius leaps of insight, just the week after increased reports of scuffles inching closer to Amestris' borders could no longer be denied and tension in individual units were beginning to reach a peak high. Intelligence had been lax, and while Maes Hughes was well able to nip most falsehoods in the bud and dish out more encouraging propaganda, he was but one man, and rumors had their own way of evolving and multiplying.
Roy Mustang's division was well trained and handpicked by the Colonel and his immediate officers, but even they weren't free from the influences of emotion. Eventually, Roy ordered his second to gather everyone in the division on the grounds, and went out personally to staunch the panic.
The weather had whipped up huge sullen storm clouds to suit the state of the crowd. Edward and most of Roy's subordinates had been scattered amongst the masses to better gauge the situation while the Colonel took center stage before everyone. Flanked by Hawkeye and Havoc, Roy had lifted one hand, preparing to send a gouge of flames licking harmlessly above the mass to gain their attention, and snapped just as a blinding shock of lightning split the sky and set a lone tree at the edge of the ground ablaze.
The crowd had been stunned into silence. By the quick flicker of surprise that touched the Flame's eyes, he hadn't expected that either.
As the rain broke free of the heavens and thundered down towards earth and awe-struck whispers began to spring up around him, Ed distantly noted that that quick stunt of Roy's, however impromptu it was, managed to raise the division's morale. Bangs plastered across his cheeks, his cloak slowly soaking through, he could only see how terribly vulnerable Roy was out here, spark-gloves drenched and only a single sidearm on his person.
Flame alchemy and impeccable stunt notwithstanding, Roy was only human. And the solution of a lighter, so blindingly obvious, had obviously not registered with the man. Edward almost had a fit right there and then at his Colonel's stupidity.
Of course, in the midst of constructing the little gadget, the lighter began to represent more. It was just a silly lighter – Edward had to go through some elaborate scheming to steal one of Roy's gloves for array reference, not because he couldn't come up with one himself but because he wanted the stupid thing to be tuned to Roy. At the end of it all Edward began wondering why it meant so much, and why he kept finding reasons not to give the lighter to Roy. It was staring to sound like stories of love-sick girls Havoc kept riling about, something about getting the timing and mood right.
Good grief, he was turning sappy.
you better survive, bastard, because I've finally found a reason beyond redemption to live and I'll be damned if I let you die because of a little water and your love for flashiness.
War was ugly. Somewhere along all of this, Edward knew he was going to have to face the consequences of every action he made. Every blow he struck could potentially cripple the recipient, and with each alchemic reaction he could be creating widows and orphans. Then again, he could say the same for the "enemy." Neither could afford to be merciful.
There was a metallic scent in the air, fused with the dry earthy tang of overturned soil. His back was hunched awkwardly underneath the tentative shelter of a large rock rather, listening sharply for the telltale clink of bullet against stone or even the imperceptible crunch of dry leaves under boots. Either clue might aid in his survival.
I'll be back, Ed had immediately thought to himself as he and Roy walked their separate ways, and it was as sure a promise as the one he had made to Al all those years ago, both of which he intended to fulfill and were tucked side by side in his heart.
He leaped out, a mild alchemic reaction thrumming in his wake, heading full speed for tactically sound terrain and leaving his conspicuous red coat behind.
And if his grin held a little too much teeth in it, no one noticed.
end
More AN: First off, this is not a particularly plot-driven series. I want to focus on Roy and Ed's characters as well as their relationship, and how the war situation affects all of that. Yes, these two chapters have been rather introspective (how I drown in introspection). The other scenes in my head, if they go as planned, will involve more interaction, more conversation, and a larger view of the war situation.
Where is this going? I really have no idea. I don't think I'll ever be very specific about who is warring against Amestris. At the moment, the Sins aren't going to be involved. Some loose ends will tied up (such as where Al is), and Ed's claim that he and Roy never quite talked about their relationship is going to come back and trip him. Because alchemists might be good at interpretation, but some things have to be spoken clearly in a relationship.
As always, reviews are much beloved.