Hey everyone... *awkward wave*
First off, super big apology about how late I am. It's inexcusable, but I'm giving you a reason anyway, which would be 'I accidentally got obsessed with Haikyuu! ! and just started high school and then the real world kept getting in the way of my muse'.
So, yeah... So sorry about that unannounced hiatus. I wasn't anticipating a sudden lack of inspiration this bad. I'm personally blaming the first term of high school. Haha that's right I'm not that old after all - I asked you a while ago how old you thought I was, the answer is I just turned fifteen on Friday. So I was fourteen at the time, lol.
ANYWAY! Enough of my rambling! You've waited long enough for this!
"Um." Tyrell bit awkwardly into a chewy bread roll, sweating as he received a sour glare from one side and a judgemental stare from the other.
"What?" Edward bit.
Roy's eyebrows drew lower and Tyrell ducked backwards to avoid the sparks that shot between the two alchemists.
The three of them shared a bench in the Northern Command's Mess Hall and Tyrell was sandwiched between the two volatile teammates.
His father sat with General Kamagawa and Inuya, who had fled their table due to Edward and Roy's last intimidating (somewhat terrifying, thought Tyrell) staring contest.
"Tell Roy to quit glaring at me," growled Edward, sinking his pointed teeth (have they always been that sharp?) into an equally tough bread roll. "I don't wanna talk to him."
"What are you, a schoolkid?" muttered Roy into his plate of…(what?)
"So what if I am? Least I ain't an old bastard like you!" barked Edward. "Tyrell, tell him he's an old bastard!"
"Uh…"
"Tell Edward there's no point in designating you messenger if he's going to continue to breach his decision every time he makes another weak attempt at an insult."
"Tell him to shut up!"
"Tell him he's getting on my nerves now."
"Tell him 'good'!"
"Tell him—"
"Guys!" Tyrell interjected. "I'm not a pigeon!"
Edward scowled and looked back at his plate.
"Yes. Apologies, Tyrell. Edward is prone to this kind of rudeness."
"Graaah!" Edward flashed his teeth and snarled.
Tyrell sat straighter and smacked his fork down for emphasis. "People are starting to stare!" he hissed, going red and trying to go back to being inconspicuous. That is, if a white-haired, tanned Oratoan prince in a bright purple jacket was ever inconspicuous amongst the pale northerners in their military gear.
Roy jabbed a chunk of meat with his own fork and said, "Let them stare." A second after biting the unidentified meat, his eyes widened in distress and he gripped the table like it was the only thing maintaining his dignity by helping him forcefully swallow the food.
After a moment of cringing and a couple of coughs, there was a croaked, "Don't eat the ham."
Edward smirked viciously.
Tyrell frowned at him before sitting back to look at both eastern competitors. "I'm sensing you guys aren't feeling too chummy right now—"
"Even Havoc could sense that." Edward sneered at Roy as he tore chunks from another stale roll.
Tyrell pursed his lips disapprovingly. "I'm getting that you both did something to piss each other off in the last event as well. Ed tried to pick a fight with the West and Roy gave him a lecture on how he's short, did I get it?"
"Close enough," said Roy as Edward blew a fuse on another rant.
Next thing they were trying to dislodge a spoon from the empty tray Roy had used as a shield.
"Why the hell did you try to kill me with a spoon when you have both a knife and a fork there?"
"My teacher taught me that spoons hurt more," growled Edward as he wrenched the offending cutlery free and it flew across the room.
Roy covered his smirk with a hand as it landed in General Rothford's (probably cold) soup.
"You think this is funny, Colonel Peabrain?!"
"Murder attempts, no. Your pathetic threats, yes."
"You—"
"You both seriously need to chill because if you're planning on staying in this comp, you'll be staying in these dorms and I swear, not getting along in there will not be fun for anyone."
"I know, I know, gotta share with this jerkwad," droned Edward, flicking his wrist as Rothford spewed steam somewhere else in the hall.
Tyrell shook his head. "No. I dropped by there earlier. It's worse than that."
Roy's expression grew dark. "What do you mean?"
Tyrell grabbed his tray of half-gnawed food (I mean seriously I'm Oratoan royalty where is the gourmet section) and stood.
"We've been moved," he said with almost creepy intensity. "I'll show you."
"The Meinhardts said that teamwork is a vital aspect of life in the north. That philosophy seems to extend to life outside of training as well."
Edward marched into the room ahead, shooting a laser-intense stare from one end to the other. One faraway end to another.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight." He pointed as he counted, golden eyes slowly growing dark as he did the maths. "Eight bunks, one bathroom and a tiny-ass kitchen."
He turned to face his two companions, one of whom was nodding unenthusiastically and the other leaning heavily on a doorframe.
"And something tells me they aren't all for me," he said.
"You're right about that," said Tyrell, stepping forward. "I saw some grunts bringing all our junk in here and they explained it to me when I asked. Turns out we've been pushed down the ladder by some ponce of a general coming down from a base north of here."
"A friend of yours, I'm gonna assume?" probed Edward as he cast a glare Roy's way.
"Hell no. Even sarcasm can't attach that word to our 'relationship'." The man gripped the wall and stared around, pale and eyes wide like a kicked puppy. "Give me a second; I'm starting to feel sick."
Edward blew a sigh out of his nose and turned back to the room, folding his jacket-clad arms and striding over to the bunk just next to the corner his belongings had been oh-so-neatly dumped beside.
"At least we're next to the kitchen," he muttered.
"That's it, look on the bright side," said Tyrell. He smiled unconvincingly. "It'll be like a giant slumber party!"
"One full of people I'd like to send into an eternal slumber," remarked Edward as he gathered up his things. "Hey! That's my research notebook! Those bastards…"
Roy eventually trudged over, giving up on his state of denial to piece together his scattered belongings.
"Take it these belong to you, Colonel Tightass?" asked Edward, thrusting a fistful of papers in Roy's direction.
"Careful. I'll stab you if you tear those. That information took months to gather. Do you see my attaché case anywhere? They must have fallen out of it."
"This thing?"
"Yes. Hope they didn't read any of this… Are these trousers yours?"
"Yup. Hand 'em over."
"To be honest, I'd rather burn them."
"Shut up. You just don't know what looks cool."
Tyrell stood by as the two organised their things, Edward throwing his trunk underneath the bed and Roy sliding his cases neatly beneath a nearby desk.
"Me and dad are opposite you," said Tyrell. "Oh! I just remembered…" He dashed off.
Roy grabbed a spare sheet out of the cupboard and clambered onto the top bunk, tucking one side it under the mattress and throwing the other side down so it acted like a curtain that blocked their section from the view of whoever was sleeping next to them.
Edward had to admit that was a good idea, but not out loud. He was still mad at Roy. In fact, why not one-up him?
He grabbed the second spare sheet and shoved it under his arm, clapping his hands and holding them to the wall opposite the bunk. One flash later and there was a hook on the wall, which he proceeded to hang one corner of the sheet on. He attached the other end to the bunk, combining with Roy's sheet wall to form a makeshift room around their bunk, desk and cupboard that no other team could see into.
Tyrell pushed the sheet aside to peek in. "Clever," he remarked. "I brought these when you told me northern food was a no-go. Thought you might appreciate some."
He set the goods on the bottom bunk, stepping back as Edward eyed them gleefully.
"What are those?" he asked, pointing at some cup-shaped containers.
Tyrell's eyes glimmered. "I had them imported from Kambei. They're dried noodles! You just put the hot water in the cup, let it boil, and presto! Noodles!" He wriggled excitedly.
From the desk, Roy leaned back on his chair and snatched a few of the cups.
"H-hey!"
"I'm reserving these before you two get to them. I actually want to eat for the next few days."
Edward glared, but gave it up after a moment as Roy continued muttering about messed up documents.
"Oh! And I also brought some of these…and some sweets…and this…"
"Neat! And all this is for us?"
"Yup! I've still got heaps for me and pops…"
"Awesome!"
Amory yawned and blinked, rolling over. He had no idea what time of night it was, but he knew it was damn late and the sound of someone snoring had woken him up.
He glanced around, picking up a faint glow from a few beds down.
"Geez," he muttered to himself. "That Mustang guy is still up. He must be some kind of demon…"
Some number of beds down, the East City team's sheet compound was indeed lit with a low-burning lamp, toned down to a dull light.
Roy sat beside it, scrawling away at something on the desk. It was nothing important, just an odd reference sheet. It wasn't something that would normally keep him awake at this time of night, but he didn't feel like sleeping.
Somewhere in the darkness, there was a strange snuffling noise.
Roy sighed to himself. He really hated sleeping in dorms.
Behind him, Edward sneezed himself awake and fumbled around for a quilt he'd kicked off the bed.
Roy leant backwards and snatched it off the wooden floorboards. He tossed it back up to Edward. "There you go, pipsqueak."
"Shut up."
Roy went to say something, but hesitated. Eventually, after a moment of trying to configure the wording inside his brain, he decided to just ad-lib and see what happened.
"You know, Ed," he began, turning away from his papers to look at the boy. "About what I said before…"
The bed squeaked as Edward shuffled over to the edge and hung his head over, golden eyes catching the lamplight in an almost eerie way.
"I'm not trying to come across as controlling. And I'm not going to apologise, since I stand by the belief that I did the right thing."
"Hmmmmm." Edward's face contorted in a frown of disagreement.
"But you have to understand where I'm coming from," continued Roy. "You can't pick fights that you either won't win, or aren't even necessary to begin with."
Edward kept up his scowling, but he was still listening and that was enough for Roy.
"You know well enough by now that I'm not keen on the idea of you getting yourself beaten half to death. And you should also know that I don't take to well to things that might endanger my reputation within the military. I know that last one is kind of cold, but… It's for a good reason. Back to my point, you can't keep rushing into things and running your mouth at every meathead that walks into your life."
"I know," muttered Edward. "But we were clearly there first."
"You didn't think of the consequences," said Roy, emphasising the word and tilting his head. "Without alchemy, the disadvantages we faced against those two far outweighed the prize of a nice camping spot. All I'm trying to say is be more careful in the future. Give things a little more thought, you know? I don't want to see you getting hurt just because you jumped into something dumb without planning your landing."
"…Okay." The wooden bed squeaked as the Fullmetal Alchemist shuffled backwards. Roy sniggered a little as the teen's stomach growled loudly.
"Hungry?" he prompted and Edward's head popped over the railing in a flash, eyes lighting up.
Roy grinned, snatching up some of their 'provisions' and shaking the packets quietly. "Better get your metal ass down here then, or I'll have it eaten already."
"Don't you dare!" Edward was on the ground in a heartbeat, staring down his superior like a wild animal might.
Roy laughed quietly as he set about preparing the kettle to cook the noodles Tyrell had given them.
"That should do it," he mumbled to himself, stirring the noodles in the cups with a fork. "Probably."
"Gimme," demanded Edward as Roy stepped back inside their sheet compound.
"Manners," chided Roy, holding Edward's cup high out of reach of the boy's grappling hands.
"Gimme please," Edward corrected himself, apparently too eager for the snack to be bothered getting annoyed about Roy picking on him. He snatched the cup as soon as the man lowered it, greedily slurping at the noodles.
"Geez, Ed, you'd think you hadn't eaten in days," remarked Roy, settling on the floor beside his bed.
"Mmph… The way the food up here's looking, I don't think I will be," replied Edward, smiling blissfully as he sucked in hot noodles like a tiny blond vacuum.
Roy shrugged in agreement and tucked in. The noodles were surprisingly tasty for something that had been stuck solid inside a cup for goodness knows how long. Their warmth was definitely appreciated.
"Ahhh, that hit the spot," breathed Edward, setting the empty container aside. "Say, how much more food do we have? I'm starving, and I don't really feel like going to sleep."
"Well, we can't waste it all tonight," Roy pointed out. "How's about we play cards for some of the snacks?"
Edward grinned. "Sounds like a plan."
And that was how the two of them came to be sprawled across the floor underneath their thin blankets, playing cards with empty packets of sweets strewn out around them.
"Do…you…have any…eights?" drawled Edward, lounging on his back with his hair splayed all over the floorboards.
Roy looked at his hand, looked at Edward, then scowled heavily. "How do you keep doing that?" he grumbled, drawing out the card and flicking it across to the boy. "I know there are only two of us playing but I left out half the deck!"
Edward grinned, placing the two cards on a haphazard pile and grabbing a sweet for himself. It was some kind of Kambeian sweet, like a chocolate dipped breadstick or something. "I've got the luck of the draw," he told Roy haughtily, teeth still showing as he smiled widely.
"That kind of luck should be illegal," muttered Roy. "Got any threes?"
"Go fish."
"Dammit."
The game went on for a bit before Edward eventually claimed victory and they moved on. Edward won the next game too, and the one after, and proclaimed his victories were all down to the incredible luck that had been bestowed upon him.
Roy stared at him. There was no way one person could be that lucky. I've been scammed. I know it.
That thought fresh in his head, he leaned forward and pulled Edward's blanket into the air with a flourish, relishing in the boy's shocked expression as hidden cards rained down on him from within the folds.
Edward's look of surprise gradually melted into a guilty smile as Roy raised an eyebrow. The floor around him was littered with the cards he'd stowed away.
"I knew there was no way anyone could be that lucky," said Roy accusingly. "I think these belong to me." He grabbed a handful of Edward's victory candy, much to the boy's dismay.
"No! I'm sorry! I admit I was in the wrong, but would you give me my candy back?"
"Shh. You're going to wake everyone up. And no, a cheater needs to learn his lesson. None for you."
"But Roy…!"
"No 'but's. I probably would have won all this myself if you hadn't been cheating."
"I promise I won't do it again!"
"It's too late now." Roy closed his eyes and opened one of the sweets, tossing it into his mouth and sucking it thoughtfully. He shook his head sadly. "You should have thought of this beforehand, Ed."
"I'm sorry…" Edward flopped limply into the middle of his cards, staring at Roy with a look of utter dejection. His big golden eyes were boring into Roy's face.
"Oh, alright. You can have some back, just because I feel sorry for how bad those puppy eyes were." Roy tossed a packet at Edward and the boy jolted up to snatch it in his teeth.
"Yes! Thanks!"
"Just don't cheat again."
"To be honest, you should have noticed sooner. Life isn't fair, Colonel, you should be more alert."
"I can just as easily take those off you again."
"Nope! Okay! I won't cheat!"
"Good. Now, uh…" Roy looked around. It was still dark, but he couldn't see a clock. "What time is it anyway?"
"It's like…" Edward fumbled around for his suitcase, flicking it open and rummaging around. He eventually got a hold of his watch. "Quarter to five."
"Yikes," said Roy. "We'd better clear up and get to bed if we even want to catch an hour of sleep."
"Yeah. Good point…"
They'd only just cleaned the cards and wrappers off the floorboards when an icy blast of wind barrelled through the dormitory like a herd of cows through a field of daisies.
Turns out this event began at five.
"Ahhh…" Roy rubbed his hands together, desperate to force some warmth into them. He'd been sent through some urgent documents from East City and was heading deep into Northern Headquarters in his attempt to find the branch they'd arrived at. The place was like a labyrinth, with identical, barren corridors and bamboozling layout.
He was beginning to fear he'd wandered in too far and gotten lost in an eternal maze when voices began to echo down from a nearby corner.
"Tch! Interrupting my duties for something as ridiculous as this! Do they think Briggs is going to run itself?"
"I'm sure they'll get by without you for a few days, General."
"Hm. It's true that they're well-disciplined. However, I still don't think this was a properly thought out plan."
I'd know that voice anywhere, thought Roy, glancing around in an effort to spot a hiding place. Even a pot plant would do, really.
Unfortunately for him, the northern headquarters' idea of interior decorating seemed to extend no further than a few ancient paintings scattered over the cold, grey walls, so he was left standing in the middle of an empty corridor as General Olivier Mira Armstrong rounded the corner ahead.
Her eyes narrowed when she spotted him. "Colonel Mustang."
"General." He flashed one of his usual charming grins as he saluted, to little effect. "Long time no see."
"Not long enough, obviously," the woman replied with a hint of contempt. "You're still fluffing around in East City, I take it?"
"If 'fluffing' consists of more or less running the place then, yes, I am." Roy dropped his arm by his side and glanced at the soldier accompanying the general. It was no-one he recognised, so he assumed she'd left Miles in charge of Briggs.
"Hm. Well. What brings you up north, then?" she asked, casting a sceptical eye over her unofficial rival.
"The father-son contest," Roy explained shortly, frowning as he realised how little he wanted to explain that to Olivier Armstrong.
"I heard about that. Damn pointless event if I do say so myself, but I'll admit a little friendly competition might not necessarily be a bad thing," the woman said, her scabbard rattling at her hip as she shifted. "I didn't know you had a son, Mustang."
"I don't," he replied. "I'm paired with the youngest kid about base because there was no-one else that fit the bill."
"Who?" Armstrong pursed her lips and cocked her head so that her blond hair slipped to the side with its usual luxurious sheen. "There's a younger upstart than yourself down there?"
"Edward Elric," elaborated Roy, shifting his legs. "The Fullmetal Alchemist. You may have heard of him?"
"Oh, that snotty-nosed schoolboy," she said, and Roy felt a little offended on Edward's behalf. "If I had my say, he'd have stayed well out of the way of military issues. But, I suppose, if he was that determined and has nearly as much talent as I've heard, he'll be quite the asset."
She sighed a little and glanced around the corridor. Her blue eyes raked the grey walls as if she were searching for something, although there wasn't anything to be found. "Though I still have my qualms about a child amidst our ranks."
"Same here," muttered Roy. "He's a good kid, though."
"They're all good kids to start off, Colonel," she pointed out. "If he's joined us, all you can do is hope that he stays that way."
With that, she and her escort moved off past Roy, down the empty corridor.
"Pleasure seeing you too, General!" he called after her and she replied with an irked 'humph!'
"Don't spend too long up here, Mustang!" she snapped. "You'll bring down the work ethic of the entire sector!"
"Glad to see she thinks as highly of me as ever." The colonel hummed to himself, starting off down the corridor again. He took a few steps, faltered, and stopped.
"Where was I going again?"
The remaining northern events were mostly dominated by their local team, save for the fire-lighting contest, which had an obvious victor. Despite the outlawing of alchemy during the events, Roy was quite pleased about his complete ownership of the event, though Edward took it upon himself to take the colonel's ego down a few pegs by pointing out all his shortcomings in each other event.
Apart from that, nothing major had overtaken the northern leg of the competition. The next stop on the track was Grand Central, Roy's former stomping ground.
Such a shame Hughes won't be around to watch Edward and I messing around like a couple of best buddies, Roy thought jovially as he and the other competitors made their way to the train station. He couldn't speak for all the teams, but he, Edward and the Oratoans were more than happy to leave the frigid crags and horrific canteen in the horizon behind them.
"Alri-i-ght," drawled Edward, swinging his suitcase back and forth. "From what I've heard, a lot of Central's events are gonna be strategy and something about 'respectable recreation'. I'm taking it that means all that dancing courtesy junk you find fun, so basically you're like the ace up our sleeves here."
"That would make you the wildcard," stated Roy as they found their seats on the train. "If you act sensible for that type of event, you could be quite the dark horse. Hate to say it, but you made a pretty good impression about Kambei back then."
"Feh. No big deal. Just pleasing a bunch of snobby aristocrats."
"Who are you calling a snobby aristocrat?" came Tyrell's voice from a the next seats over.
"Nobody," called Edward, grinning to himself. Roy sighed.
The train jerked into motion, chugging slowly through the white, green and grey of the northern snowfields.
"Let's kick everyone's asses in Central," said Edward, smacking a hand off the window for emphasis.
"Let's," agreed Roy, smirking and folding his arms.
Here we come, Central!
Sorry that not much happened this time around, but that's for those couple of you who were asking about General Armstrong! And before you ask, her little brother is totally going to make an entry.
Speaking of, though, there is absolutely no guarantee when I'll be updating. I'm hoping it'll be sooner rather than later. I just really don't want to give you all a chapter I didn't try my absolute hardest on, so I won't be rushing if I'm not proud of what I've written. I hope you'll forgive me, but I've lost some of my drive and recently been pouring my effort into 'Crumbling Foundations', a Haikyuu! ! fic by myself and Toph Hitsugaya under the pen name 'Embrace-the-Mustard'. (Check that out if you like Haikyuu! ! and suspense and something out of the ordinary!)
Hope you guys'll leave reviews, even though I've been a rubbish updater. *sweats* If nothing else, consider it a late birthday present, haha.
If you did come back, thank you so much. It means more than you know.
(Also I'm on tumbr now - if you want to follow this loser, it's 'unflying-potatoes'. XD)