B is for Bickering
A/N I don't own FMA. Also, don't expect this many updates since I will be busy for a while. Also, to any hopeful fangirls NONE OF THIS IS ROYED! Sorry, but this is a strictly parental relationship with Edward and Roy. Do NOT interpret this the wrong way.
You would think that after attempting human transmutation at the tender age of ten, braving off against not one- but seven immortal beings (whom also just happened to be the manifestation of humanity's sins), and meeting up with the head honcho "truth" (AKA the creator of the universe), that Edward Elric would inevitably accept and resign himself to the undeniable fact- that "ordinary" simply did not- and never would belong in his vocabulary.
Apparently this didn't seem to be the case, as Roy regarded his hilariously distressed subordinate. That wasn't the only thing off about the boy. His blaringly obnoxious red coat was gone- in fact, he wasn't wearing a coat at all. Instead the boy was wearing a now crumpled fancy white dress shirt topped off with a charcoal-colored vest. Beneath the black vest was a decently knotted matching tie that complimented his dress shirt quite well. Roy's eyes trailed down, noticing that Edward had still kept the leather pants, but ultimately decided against his clunky elevator boots in favor of black dress shoes. Even his signature golden braid was gone, and pulled back into a high ponytail.
Clearly, this had to be the work of some higher being, as Edward's unusually macabre fashion sense would've involved some flashy jacket, combat boots, and some strange gothic inspired design sprawled all over his shirt. Hell, if it was up to Ed, he would've decorated the Fuhrer's mansion with grotesque stone gargoyles and would've made black chainmail military regulation, equipped with pointy spears.
Well, at least the military would look intimidating, if not terrifying to their citizens.
But even with wrinkles creasing his clothes, tiny tears dotting the seams of his pants, and sand managing to make it up to his hair, the boy looked extremely, if not, undeniably handsome. In fact, the sheer messiness of his appearance only served to exemplify his good looks what with his wild, gold eyes making him seem like the rough and rouge sort of type. It was a shame the kid wouldn't let Roy give him a few pointers on picking up women. With the exotically attractive young man at his side, Roy was sure he would easily charm women onto double dates, so long as fullmetal kept his mouth shut.
Suddenly, a new thought struck the colonel: "Is this competition? Is this fullmetal's way of trying to show me up? The colonel growled. "Bring it on, short stuff. We'll see who fares better with the ladies soon enough. You couldn't even charm the devil into world domination…"
Meanwhile, in the heat of his momentary confusion Edward gaped like a fish; one of which that had the unfortunate luck to be lured on to the line of a very not-so unfortunate fisherman. His jaw was so unhinged that it practically hit the ground. Upon laying eyes on the colonel, the boy almost immediately retracted his arm off his superior's wrinkled beige dress coat and (quite comically, if he did say so himself) leapt several feet back. The uncoordinated force of his poorly timed landing caused him to stumble a few more feet back before finally landing ever-so gracefully on his ass.
His golden irises were as nearly as wide as saucers from the initial shock- an expression Roy hadn't seen since the unfortunate shower incident that involved a sleep deprived fullmetal accidentally walking into an unlocked changing stall of the unsuspecting strong arm alchemist, Alex Louis Armstrong. (WHAT KIND OF WEIRDO GETS DRESSED SHOES FIRST?!" he had initially screamed, before proceeding to dousing his vulnerable eyes in soapy water. The resulting mental scarring had been so severe that Roy had taken pity on the poor boy and offered him a month long mission to the sweltering South; which was arguably still not enough to cleanse his mind of the disturbing mental imagery he was forced to endure. And the well-intentioned crushing hug of consolation from said muscled mustachio man that had followed only made it so much worse; both for Edward's nerves as well as his spine).
Not one to take life's constant knockouts laying down, Edward hastily scrambled to his feet and brushed the sand off his dreadfully scalding black leather pants. He cursed his stupidity, allowing his momentary astonishment to let his guard down, a fact he just knew his arrogant asshole of a superior would happily seek to exploit.
An accusatory pointer finger was immediately jabbed in Roy's face.
"Wha- Wha- WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL?!" Edward screeched.
Roy internally winced, and allowed his hands to twitch as he suppressed the urge to clamp them firmly onto his delicate, now-deafened ears. He had spent so many months away, eloquently planning the arrival of the promised day that he had forgotten just how vocal his youngest subordinate could be. Oddly enough, during those busy months Roy had caught himself actually missing the screaming matches that transpired between the calm and (cool, as the countless ladies of central liked to put it) colonel and his boisterous yet brilliant lackey. True, the utter commotion of their childish quarrels would annoy anyone in a five mile radius, and admittedly more than once a displeased Hawkeye had to butt in with a soft but nonetheless intimidating switch of her revolver- but they also provided a nice, if temporary, distraction from his demanding schedule. Besides, if the boy was well enough to berate him, than it meant that the harsh reality of being a loathed dog of the military hadn't broken his spirit.
But man, the kid had one hell of a pair of lungs.
"Wh- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
Edward was seething with fury; no doubt about the little mishap he had with a serious case of mistaken identity. The colonel smirked as he watched the apples of his subordinate's cheek ripen to a deep scarlet. Just from watching the tell-tale signs of fullmetal's body language, he could tell the boy was at a conflict: whether or not to be irrationally pissed off at the colonel for unintentionally duping him or extremely embarrassed for being caught during his rare moments of weakness.
Roy sighed. Really, that boy was like an open book. A very, very, threatening-looking open book filled with sharp edges and too many questions that needed to be answered.
"Well, if I actually knew why I was stranded in the middle of a godforsaken desert, why do you think I would ask you?" Roy replied. He grimaced. He was taken aback by the bitter tone that seeped into his voice. He honestly hadn't expected his response to be so sharp towards the boy, he usually had such a firm grip over his calm disposition. It must be the goddamn heat," he mused, "damn desert is baking like the inside of an oven,"
Nevertheless his gruff response shocked Edward. It was pretty run-of-the mill for the red coat clad boy to dish out his standard stormy back talk (mixed in with the occasional short rant, of course), but Roy? No matter how hopeless things got, how shitty the situation was, Roy always had his signature smirk plastered on his face- it was his way of taunting life, as if to say "save yourself the trouble, and surrender before you make a bigger fool out of yourself." Roy was a man of many faces, but short-tempered and snappy was never one of them.
Covering up his shock with a false expression of resentment, Edward snarled. "I can never get a straight answer out of you, can I colonel bastard? Tch, figures out of all the annoying assholes in good old Amestris, I had to get stuck with you of all people."
"I wouldn't point fingers if I were you fullmetal. It's not like I asked to be stuck with the world's most volatile human firecracker," Roy coolly responded. He watched the younger boy's face contort into demon-like fury.
"Firecracker? Don't talk about flames, bastard, when it's you who's constantly spittin' them! Why don't you practice what you preach, dragon breath!"
"Dragon breath? How immature, fullmetal. But after all, what can you expect from a disobedient child whose only real talent is mocking his superiors?"
"Don't call me a child! At least I'm not some dusty old fart like you!"
Old fart?! Why that little- Roy's eye twitched. Dragon breath he could handle, but old? He didn't care if that kid happened to be the famed "hero of the people," that obnoxious midget was going to pay!
"Why don't you just run on home and tuck yourself into bed? Quick now, fullmetal, you wouldn't want to miss bedtime!" It was a new degree of childish for Roy, but for what it was worth, Roy couldn't bring himself to care. He relished the few seconds of silence and allowed himself a small, smug smile of victory before it slipped off his face. Instead of the expected sarcastic retort that was sure to follow, he was only met with silence. Edward's eyes were glazed, a sure sign that he was lost in thought.
"Bedtime…" Edward mused as his mind flashed back to memories of the past. He and Al hadn't had a proper bedtime ever since his beloved mother passed away. Visions of a four year old Edward and his giggling baby brother filled his head.
"After supper, Al and I would always help mom clear the table…" The two brothers would climb on the wooden chairs, since they were too small to reach the table. Since, Edward had developed a bit of a competitive streak from early on, he would make a competition out of everything. He constantly fought with his brother over who could run the fastest, who could sing the loudest- the two had even fought over who would marry their best friend/neighbor Winry someday. Ed's chubby hands enclosed a dirty soup spoon and his plump fingers clutched onto a matching fork. Meanwhile, Al was having decidedly less success trying to push his lower body onto a wooden stool. With a small laugh, his mother would scoop Al up and patiently sit him down on the table so he could help his brother scavenge for dirty silverware.
"That's cheating!" Ed would angrily exclaim, shaking his little hand at Al. His mother would laugh and patiently reassure him that Al just needed a push because he wasn't as strong or old enough as Edward to do it himself. With that, the three-year old would grin, satisfied with his mother's reminder that Ed was the older brother, and that he was superior to his toddler sibling. After the brothers had collected all the utensils they could get their chubby hands on, their mother would pat their heads and thank her "little men for all their hard work."
"...and after dinner, mom would tuck us into bed. And sometimes, she used to sing and tell stories…" As a child, bedtime had always been Edward's favorite time of day. His mother would lure them off into their beds but not without the promise of a bedtime story. Cuddled up with warmly-knitted blankets, Trisha would envelop her sons into a hug and begin her enchanting tales. There were stories about kings and queens, dragons that would terrorize entire villages, and most often, stories about a knight in shining armor, since Al had an affinity for everything shiny. His favorite one by far however wasn't about mystical creatures or love struck princesses, it was a rather simple story:
"One day a Prince fell in love with a beautiful Princess." "Mom!" Edward whined. He hated mushy stories and couldn't understand his brother's fascination with them. "I don't wanna listen to another mushy story! They're all yucky!" he complained. His mother just laughed. Over years of perfecting the best bedtime story, she learned that for children, who had such especially curious minds as her own boys; interruptions would be constant, along with twinkling laughter and the occasional potty break.
"This isn't a yucky story, I promise," his mother replied as she entwined her pinky finger with Edward's tiny one.
"He proposed marriage…" "Mommy, what's purr-pose?" Al asked. Trisha giggled into her hand before tapping her littlest one on the nose. "Not purr-pose; propose: it's when you ask someone to marry you, sweetie."
"Anybody?" Al asked as his golden eyes shimmered with wonder.
"No Al, not anybody. You can only marry someone who you love, and loves you back,"
"So I can marry mommy?" Al asked.
"Not quite little one, I already have daddy- but I'm sure you'll find someone who loves you too, Al." Trisha smiled gently at her two sons. Yes indeed, she knew her precious little ones would most definitely find someone special. After all, her boys had favored their father's exotic looks.
"What about Ed?" Al asked. Her eldest one was sulking on his corner of the bed, jealous of the attention their mother was giving Al.
"Even Ed," she warmly replied. Call it mother's intuition, or maybe wishful thinking, but Trisha Elric had a sneaking suspicion that the little Rockbell girl next door was destined for Edward. The two fought like an old married couple, even at playtime; and even though she was a girl, that never stopped Ed from playing with her- even if the other neighborhood boys would make faces and insist he would catch "cooties."
"...as soon as he saw her and knew that she was his true love. However, the Princess rejected his hand in marriage. The Prince was very angry. When he demanded why, the princess revealed that she was already in love with another. Worse, she was in love with a poor peasant."
"That prince is a huge phony!" Edward grumbled. "What's wrong with being poor?"
"Things were different back then, Edward," Trisha gently explained.
"Hmph!" Edward pouted. Sighing, Trisha gently ruffled her eldest son's golden hair. Even at his young age, Edward was highly opinionated.
When the prince found out, he ordered his most trusted guards to kill off the peasant.
"K-kill?" Alphonse squeaked before hiding his trembling face beneath a layer of blanket. A tiny pouf of yellow hair peeked out from his comforter.
"Don't worry, dear. It'll be alright." Trisha soothed. Slightly reassured, Alphonse nodded but still shook like a leaf.
"Worried for her love, the princess escaped with the peasant in the middle of the night. And for years, the angry prince never saw his beloved princess again.
Many years later, the prince was strolling the woods when he stumbled onto a little house in the middle of the woods. Thirsty and hungry, the prince knocked on the door and asked for some food. When the door opened, he was greeted by a young boy who allowed him in. They boy was kind and gave him tea. Then, they boy's father came in. and greeted the prince. Upon seeing the father's face the prince gasped."
The brothers stuck their chubby hands up to their faces and deeply inhaled, making mock-gasp faces.
"Like this, mommy?" Al asked.
Trisha laughed at her children's antics. They were quite the little actors.
"Exactly like that," Trisha giggled and clapped her hands together
"It was the same face of the peasant who had stolen his love a long time ago."
This time, the brothers had genuine matching expressions of shock etched onto their chubby faces.
"The prince became angry again and stormed the father's house looking for where the boy's mother was. The peasant finally cried and told him that she had died a couple years earlier in an accident."
At this, tiny tears cascaded down Al's chubby cheeks. His bottom lip began to quiver before he inevitably let out a single sob.
"Mama, the princess died?" Al sniffled. "But…why?" Al uttered before bawling overtook his tiny form. Trisha gently scooped up her littlest one into her arms before gently placing him down onto her lap.
"Yes, Alphonse the princess passed away," Trisha gently said before softly rubbing his back in circles. "But it's ok, because it's make-believe," Trisha cooed. "You, Edward, and Mommy are just fine."
"Really, mommy?" Al peered up from his mother's lavender house dress. With tearful golden eyes, Al searched her face for any uncertainty or doubt.
"Yes, Al. It's just make believe," Trisha replied. This appeared to have satisfied Al, as he was rubbing his eyes dry.
Trisha looked over at her older son, who was frowning with his arms crossed. He glared at his little brother accusingly, before scowling and looking away. Oh dear, it seemed as if her eldest boy, Edward was jealous from the maternal attention Al was receiving. Making sure her other son didn't feel left out, Trisha gently patted Edward's knee. The small comforting gesture from his mother seemed to work as Edward brightened up immediately.
"The prince grew even blinder from his hatred. He left the cottage, and the he swore to get revenge on the father.
The next day, the prince ordered his soldiers to steal the peasant's prized horse. So, the prince's soldiers set out and came back with the peasant's stolen horse."
"The prince is a bad man! He should go to jail!" Edward piped up.
Later, the prince went back to the peasant's cottage and asked him how he felt. The peasant simply smiled, and cheerfully replied that all was well and invited him in for tea.
"Haha!" Edward cackled. "Serves that dumb Prince right!"
"Mind your language, Edward," Trisha reprimanded. Where was he picking up this language? She had no idea where Edward's apparent bad boy streak stemmed from. She only hoped it would die off before he grew into a teenager.
"Sorry, mom," Edward sincerely apologized. He hung his head in shame- he hated it when he made mommy angry.
"Just don't do it again," his mother whispered. She comfortingly patted Edward's head, pressing down his little antennae.
"This made the prince even angrier. He decided to punish the father even more. The next day the prince ordered his soldiers to harvest the peasant's crops. So, the prince's soldiers set off and came back with the peasant's crops."
"He wasted all that food!" both brothers cried out at the same time. Trisha chuckled at her sons' sudden outburst. After all the two could work up quite an appetite.
"What will he eat mommy?" Al worriedly asked.
"Why, he's saved up stew, Al. Enough for him and his son," Trisha responded.
Edward's golden eyes were wide open and licked his lips. Trisha knew from that astounded expression, Edward was thinking about all the food that could've been made.
"Sugar cookies," Edward whispered, as if in a trance. "Pound cake and blue berry muffins…" he trailed off.
Later, the prince went back to the peasant's cottage and asked him how he felt. The peasant simply smiled once again, and cheerfully replied that all was well and invited him in for tea.
Finally the prince became so angry that the next day, the prince ordered his soldiers to destroy the peasant's little cottage. So, the prince's soldiers set out and came back with the rubble from the peasant's cottage.
Edward fumed with anger, while Al whimpered.
"I don't like the phony Prince!" Edward declared before crossing his arms. "He stole the horsey and he ruined all that food! How come the Prince doesn't get a time out?" Edward pouted.
Trisha laughed. "He does deserve a huge time out, doesn't he little man?"
"Yeah!" both brothers agreed.
Later, the prince went back to the peasant and his ruined cottage and asked him how he felt. The peasant simply smiled, and cheerfully replied that all was well, but he couldn't invite him in for tea.
"Why isn't the poor guy angry?" Edward cried out. Clearly exasperated, he settled for throwing his hands up in the air.
"When he heard this the prince finally lost his temper. "I've stolen your prized horse. Harvested your crops. I have even destroyed your house! How can you still be so happy? The peasant simply smiled and replied, 'You may have taken my horse, my food, and my home; but you haven't taken away my son. And as long as I have my son, I have my family; and family is the most precious treasure of them all.'"
"What's that mean mommy?" Al asked for the umpteenth time that night.
"It means that, family is the most important thing in the world. And because the peasant has his son, he still has his most important thing," Trisha explained.
"So does this mean that me and Al are mommy's most important thing in the world?" Edward hopefully inquired.
"You and your little brother Al will always be my most important thing in the world," Trisha affirmed. Identical grins broke out on the brothers faces. They beamed back at each other before reaching over to hug their mother.
"Even for daddy?" Al softly questioned as he put his arms around his mother's midsection.
"Even for daddy," Trisha firmly answered back. Even though she was smiling down at her two little angels, her most prized possessions, she internally frowned. Her husband was still so scared of harming their two little boys, that he barely touched them.
Noticing his mother's slightly forced smile, he nuzzled his face into her arm. Trisha subconsciously wrapped her arms around Edward pulling him tighter into her embrace.
"At once, the prince realized his foolishness. He had been so lonely that he turned his sadness to anger and took it out on the peasant. He begged the peasant for his forgiveness, and the peasant warmly smiled and told him that they were the prince's new family. And so, the peasant and his son lived with the happy prince in the castle and lived for many happy days to come…" his mother's comforting voice faded from Edward's head as the distant memory faded to a close.
Edward blankly stared off into space, unaware that he had been daydreaming for quite some time.
"…ullmetal, hey!" a voice snapped him out of his stupor.
"Welcome to Earth fullmetal," Roy chided, snapping his fingers in front of his dazed subordinate.
Edward shook his head and stared back up at his superior. What the…? Hadn't they just been fighting two seconds ago?
"Wakey-wakey," Roy teased, as he snapped his fingers in Edward's face. Growling, Edward shoved his superior's stupid arm out of the way.
"What happened…" Edward asked before snapping his mouth shut. Shit! Had he really spaced out, again?
He looked up at his superior's face and was graced with a mocking smirk- confirming the worst. Edward groaned as an uncomfortable heat flushed his cheeks.
"Leave me alone, you stupid jackass," Edward muttered. Stupid Mustang! Always catching him at his most embarrassing moments!
"What's wrong fullmetal? Day dreaming again?" Mustang taunted. His smirk extended to a full on shit-eating grin as he watched fullmetal's face deepen to a shade that reminded him of the boy's gaudy cloak.
"Yeah! About how to kick your stupid ass into next week!" Edward snapped. Roy was amazed that fullmetal hadn't passed out from blood loss yet. His face was positively crimson, all the way from his chin to the tips of his ears. Edward snarled, and proceeded to stare at anything but Roy.
"What's with the guilty face, fullmetal? You weren't thinking about anything…inappropriate, were you?" Roy taunted. Edward's whole body immediately twitched, as if a thousand tiny bolts of lightning had electrocuted his body. His shoulders became stiff, his throat instantly went dryer than the dusty desert sand, and his hands remained into some sort of clawed position.
"Argh…you…stupid…womanizing!" Edward choked out.
"Looks like I hit a nerve," Roy thought as he watched his youngest subordinate struggle to form a coherent sentence.
Apparently, ladies weren't fullmetal's forte
"I guess you've finally climbed another rung on the ladder to adulthood? Finally noticing the female figure, huh?" Roy mocked. "Oh yes," Roy regarded evilly as he watched steam come out of the younger boy's ears.
"Well, it's about time, fullmetal," Roy continued, ignoring the Ed's feeble protests. "Speaking of women, how's your little automail mechanic doing back in Risembool? Or was it Rush Valley, if I heard correctly?" As soon as the words flew out of Roy's mouth, Edward practically convulsed in a fit of rage. His whole body shook in silent anger and Edward's expression was unreadable, since his head was hung so low.
Edward clenched his flesh hands and whipped his head up to glare at Roy. His golden eyes were practically burning with wrath as they burned into Roy's forehead.
"Don't talk about Winry like that." Roy internally shivered as he vaguely recognized Edward's steely voice. He couldn't recall fullmetal lowering his voice to such a dangerous level except for when he confronted Scar, the alleged murderer of his best friend's parents.
Roy knew that pressing the boy would be complete suicide, knowing that an angry Edward was more intimidating than the devil himself. But Roy also knew, that if anyone could press the boy's buttons and escape unscathed it was him. Him, and the now deceased Maes Hughes, but somewhere along his devastating loss of losing his best friend and blinding hatred towards Envy Roy had unanimously decided that it would be best if he didn't talk about Maes. Ever.
Now who was getting tongue tied?
Roy shook off his momentary distraction.
Catching Edward off guard was one thing; throughout Edward's military career Mustang had always watched over the two boy, making sure that they hadn't wandered off into trouble. And while he and Edward had their fair share of childish spats, Mustang knew that he would always have the upper hand, because he was the adult. It wasn't always that Edward let him in during his moments of weakness, but Mustang didn't care. He would take it upon himself to break down the walls fullmetal so carefully crafted, if it meant that Edward didn't go back to his brother a broken man.
Mustang was a natural leader, he knew that if it was anyone destined to be the future Fuhrer of his country, it was him; whether or not he deserved it was another question. But just because he was born with the potential to be a good commander, didn't mean that he automatically was one. Over the years he had spent with his loyal team by his side, he had learned that in order to lead a commendable team, he had to prove that was an equally worthy commandant, worthy of their trust. And a good leader was always stoic. Especially, in times of distress. He wouldn't allow Edward to see him like this. He was Roy Mustang, dammit! He was the "hero of Ishval," not some sad old sack. Roy shook off his sorrow for his fallen comrade and beloved friend.
He refocused himself, thinking back to their current quarrel. Oh right, the lovely Miss Rockbell. Roy swallowed, getting a grip on his emotions. "You fool," he chided himself. What was wrong with him? He never allowed himself to get distracted by the enemy. "The object is victory," he recited, "obtain it."
"Wouldn't she be sixteen by now? At this age, she must have filled out quite well. Tell, me fullmetal how does she look in a miniskirt?"
Edward was on fire. He was past making words, much less sentences- past all reasoning. Too many times today, he had been caught off guard. He sputtered and jerked his head up sloppily.
In all honesty, Roy Mustang's intuition had been right on the money. Ed couldn't help it- he couldn't fight his instincts off, especially teenage hormones. Human weapon he may be, but at the end of the day, he was still just a hot-blooded teenage boy, and which teenage boy's mind didn't wander once, if not several times a day? And wander, it did.
Maybe on a different day or a different playing field Edward would have snapped his mind back into alert and followed through with a witty retort. And it wasn't as if the boy didn't have any will power to concentrate- his brother's new body was a sign of his unbreakable resolve that never faltered through the years. But circumstances were circumstances, and circumstances currently dictated that Edward's mind was only capable of occupying a very different type of thought process.
As much as he hated to admit it Edward was by no means, a stranger to unsavory thoughts. Ever since his grease monkey of a mechanic started prancing around in that tight little blue skirt, Edward found himself unable to concentrate on anything but her slender figure. And as for now, Edward could only think of a very specific memory that involved hiding out in the gearhead's room with a sandwich (what flavor Edward couldn't remember for the life of him, being too preoccupied at the moment).
Filled out, she most definitely had. Quite well, if Edward could say so himself. As short as the sleeting moment of half-nudity had been, Edward had managed to get the picture of an extremely underdressed Winry Rockbell permanently engraved into his skull. And how much it had definitely been worth it because even after being tinkered with by her tools, taunted by greed (and Ling later, much to his dismay), and being violently assaulted over the head with a wrench; Edward couldn't remember those heavenly ten seconds of momentary disrobing even if he tried.
Much like a broken recorder, the memory replayed over and over and over, again. Fullmetal's flustered reaction did not go unnoticed by his cocky superior.
"Or judging from your excessive reaction, perhaps you've been graced with a little more than just a miniskirt?" Roy said, stretching the word "more" ever so slightly past its allotted syllables. Roy had suspected as much, when he saw Edward blush tomato red and became oblivious to his taunts. Ahhh, youth. "That sly dog wasn't contemplating, he was remembering!" Roy smirked as he gauged fullmetal's reaction.
And for Edward, that was that. Resembling a kettle that was about to overflow, Edward exploded. THAT WAS IT! He had had it with Colonel Asshole! It was one thing to mock his childhood but to drag Winry into this?! Time to bring up the heavy ammunition.
"SHUT UP, YOU USELESS IN THE RAIN COLONEL! AT LEAST I'M NOT THE ONE WHO CAN'T HANDLE A LITTLE SPRING SHOWER WITHOUT LT. HAWKEYE AS MY GLORIFIED BABYSITTER!"
A deadly silence filled the air. The only sounds that could have been heard were Edward's heavy breathing as his lungs seemed to collapse from the overuse.
"Useless," rung in Roy's head like a dysfunctional doorbell. That word, pared along with words such as "rain" and "Hawkeye," proved to be a lethal combination for Roy, when pushed too far. Screw being an adult- Roy couldn't give a rat's ass about dignity. "Do unto your enemies as they would do to you," the clipped voice of a drill sergeant repeated. If it was anything Roy had remembered from his dreaded days at the military academy, it was to keep a cool head. And all at once, four grueling years of ingrained military expertise seemed to flush down the toilet as Roy let his hot-headed temper finally take control.
"USELESS? AT LEAST I'M NOT THE TINY LITTLE PRESCHOOLER WHO NEEDS A HIGHCHAIR TO SEE PAST MY PAPERWORK!" There. "That was satisfying," Roy reasoned as he let himself take five deep breaths.
Edward was breathing deeply too- but for an entirely different reason. He took a large swallow of oxygen, mentally preparing himself for one of his wittiest comebacks in the history of verbal sparring.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO A MIDGET SO SHORT THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE THEM WITH A TEN THOUSAND TIMES MAGNIFIED MICROSCOPE?!"
"…That would be you, fullmetal."
"YOU EMPEROR OF THE INEPT, YOU!"
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY SHORT STUFF?!"
Up above two hungry vultures gazed down upon their supposed prey. So noisy. And way too much effort. Cutting their losses, the vultures simply moved on, on the hunt for a stray snake or scorpion. They'd come back later for the corpses though. After all, if the heat hadn't killed them, the freezing night to come would surely do them in…