A/n: Wow, so, i'm sorry this took so long. It was actually done two days ago but my beta crapped out on me and I had to edit it myself, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I did my best. Stayed up until two just so I could post it and now the damn site is being dumb. grrrrr...T_T anyway, Just a few things I'd like to mention. First is a response to a reveiw about something I guess I should clarify. This fic has been Americanized, as I am, obviously, American. Sorry for the confusion. I realize I should not have been calling Bradely Fuhrer from the beginning, but King instead and I apologize. From now on I will remain consistent with my setting and call him King. Also, in case you didn't notice, this chapter ended up EXTREMELY long, 48 pages to be exact and I had to split it into two parts. hehe, I guess I got a little carried away. The second part is...yes, I'm going to say it, mostly a lemon (HUUZZAAAHHHH!!!!! I know you're all so thrilled!!!) There is, however, a warning for all of you hard core yaoi fans. There is some het in this chapter and I will continue to write it, so if you're offended...sorry. *deep breath* so, I think that's just about all. Thanks for being so patient with me . . I love you all!!!
Had some song inspiration for this chapter. "Love song" by 311, "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" by Anberlin, and "I Love you," by Sarah McLachlan. Appropriate, I know..
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine
-Anberlin
Sixteen (Part 1)
Hughes
No one is ever really prepared for the sight of a battleground, brutal from unforgiving violence, buildings torn apart, bodies rotting away in broken gutters, forgotten; not even a veteran like himself.
The train could no longer make a stop inside the town at the station as the tracks had been ripped up by irate civilians in an attempt to try and keep the army out of the town limits. It had forced the military to erect a makeshift station three miles outside the town's boarders and the troops being sent there were forced to make the march either on foot or use the vehicles designated for transporting them. All in all, it was bloody, the fighting brutal and filled with hate he couldn't understand.
In reality, from an outsider's point of view anyway, the conflict made no sense. To him, and he wasn't even on the outside, being military himself, it seemed as if the town's civilians had suddenly run mad, a spark thrown on a puddle of gasoline that no one had even known existed to violently burst into extravagant and colorful flames. Of course there must be a reason for such a wide spread anger to ignite in such a way that they would flat out declare civil war yet but all appearances, it was unreasonable and rather extravagant.
Lt. Colonel Hughes knew that infiltrating the town and finding what he was looking for while keeping himself alive would be no small feat. He couldn't go in as a soldier because the investigative work would require him talking with people from the town. So he was dressed in denim and a dark jacket over a worn t-shirt, a hat pulled low over his forehead, in hopes that no one would see him as he slunk through the shadows. More than looking for a reason why the people of such a peaceful little town would rebel so suddenly, he needed to know the other side of it was well. Why hadn't the military negotiated? No one had even known there was a conflict before the fighting broke out. Something had to have happened on the military's end to have something like this happen. As the saying goes, "it takes two to tango,"
He smiled to himself as he slipped in through a broken gate of someone's back yard, rubble crunching softly underfoot, startling in the thick silence of the thick shadows shrouding the town. That was something Gracia was always saying to him; it seemed he had picked up on it. When this was all over, he was spending a whole week with her and Elysia. Maybe he would take them over the border; he heard the beaches in Creta were an excellent place for a vacation. No violence or anger or hidden intrigues. Just the two women he loved most and the quiet, steady hiss of waves upon sand. Yeah, he thought with a wry twist of his lips as he slipped into a dank alleyway, all that sounded great if he survived this. Mustang definitely owed him big time for this.
Such was the direction of his thoughts as he rounded the corner, adjusting his glasses when he came face to face with the open end of a shot gun, staring down the barrel with wide eyes.
"Hold it!" adrenaline rushing through his veins, he instantly had his hands in the air by his head, green eyes wide. The woman at the other end of the gun was fierce, even in the dim light of the coming dawn, face shadowed and long hair pulled back with a dark kerchief. Even her clothes looked militant; dark cargo pants and a darker shirt and he wondered what kind of trouble he had just gotten himself into this time, "Who the hell are you?" her voice was actually sweet under the barked demand. Well, this was his one and only chance. He had a feeling if he couldn't win this woman over, he wouldn't be going to the beach. Ever. So he did the only thing he could think of. He smiled.
"I'm terribly sorry for any trouble my intrusion may have caused but I heard about the trouble here and I was wondering if I might be of any help," wide eyes jerked to his face, the gun trembling ever so slightly and then the darkened features hardened, pulling back on the cocking mechanism on the gun still honed in on his face.
"Oh yeah? And how would you do that?" he looked at her, easy smile still in place and wondered. She was just a woman, a small one at that, her figure slender, almost delicate but she handled herself like a hardened soldier. What was more was that she seemed to be alone; no one else backed her up to help her should something happen. Though, judging by the why she was holding the shot gun, she wouldn't need any help. But Hughes had no intention of tricking this girl. He wanted an in and here was his perfect opportunity.
"Well, you see, I'm a reporter," and he pulled a card from the inside pocket at his breast, holding it out for her to examine in the dim light. He held the bag slung over his shoulder out too when she cast him another suspicious look without taking the card claiming him as press, "They're just my camera and recorder," indeed, when the top of the bag was pulled open, lenses and the sleek body of his camera winked up at them. When she stepped back, her gaze was calculating, sharp, wavering indecisively before a decision was made.
"And what is your intent, besides a good story?" he could hear bitterness in her voice and his smile slid away, bright gaze hidden behind thin glass turning to steel.
"The truth," another pause and then the gun fell away, letting him breathe a little sigh of relief as the girl stepping away with a new expression hidden in her wide eyes.
"Follow me," perhaps he would be able to see that beach after all. Though, at the moment, he would just settle for hugging his daughter again and holding his wife one more time. Perhaps he should have said goodbye this time…
Ed
Edward was trapped.
Golden eyes, glinting in the pale morning light that had just started to seep over the warm bed he was ensconced in, could not pull away from the softened features of a certain dark haired Colonel. He had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, unable to do anything but stare. The older man lay on his back, face turned towards Ed, one hand curled, hidden under the covers by his side while the other had buried itself in the pillow the dark head was sunk into. He didn't snore, or move a lot. He just lie quietly, face relaxed and shadowed as the sun had not yet fully risen. In this way, Ed was able to see him in a way he never had before, marveling as the features seemed to change, become more beautiful with each passing second and yet, remained the same. A dark strand of hair caught on thick, sweeping eyelashes of the same color while another was caught in the soft push-pull of the man's breathing as it lay across his sharp nose. The dip between nose and top lip was fascinating, like a trail that would fit his index finger perfectly as he brushed it down to the peak of his lips.
And, oh, his lips. The shape of them was perfect, not too full, not too thin, dipping gently at the corners that seemed to give him a perpetually smirking expression, even when he wasn't. Now the top lip was shaded, dark while the bottom looked soft, the edge sharp in the pale light. The blond had been restraining himself from running one finger along the curving line for a while now. He couldn't help, though, recalling the night before and how the mouth he was admiring had felt as it went down on him, sucking him into oblivion. How he had been surrounded with the sweetest fire that had torn through him until he could barely remember his own name. Now he flushed but he couldn't deny the heat that had begun rushing through him either. It made him wonder where Roy had learned to do something like that. Yet, then again, he was a man too, and knew what would feel good. And feel good it had.
He couldn't help but think, though, that he had neglected to do the same for the older man. It wasn't like he hadn't wanted to but somehow he seemed to turn into this incoherent puddle and the only thing he was capable of was clinging to the broad shoulders of the other man so as not be to be swept away. Somehow, he doubted Roy got much satisfaction out giving him a blow job and while that thought had his face heating up like some furnace had been switched on under his skin, he kind of felt bad too. He wanted for the older man to feel as good as he had. Yet in his inexperience, he had really no idea how to go about it. Even when Roy had first kissed him, he had been unsure, hesitant. The Colonel, on the other hand, seemed to exude this silky confidence when it came to these kinds of things, dominating each and every situation. Not that the blond was really going to complain; because, seriously, who would complain about something like that, especially with a partner like Roy? Still…
Ed didn't feel like it was challenging his masculinity or anything. That wasn't what this thing between the Colonel and himself was about. It wasn't about domination, or some shallow, temporary feel-good arrangement. He had been serious when he had thrown that quick, unthinking "love you too," over his shoulder the day before. Because he did; to the point that the thought of losing the older man had little beads of fear shooting through him, the prospect bleak. This was permanent, forever and while that thought scared him in its finality, he wouldn't have it any other way. It had been such from the very beginning. At the same time, he really wanted to touch as much of that firm, pale skin as he possibly could, to bring as much pleasure to this man that he had given the blond.
It was that thought that had him breaking from his trance and leaning forward, finally drawing his index finger over the bowed curve of the soft bottom lip he had just been admiring, shivering when a soft sigh eased gently over his skin. He paused, studying the still features and when he was sure the other man wasn't going to wake up, he drew his hand over a slightly rough cheek, darkened with stubble, tracing the strong, sharp jaw line. The skin he encountered under the strong chin and over the column of the man's neck was tantalizingly warm, seeping into him. Once again a wave of desire had his breath catching. His own golden, tawny skin, brushing over the shadowed dips of the milky skin looked like honey drizzled over silver. A steady pulse beat against his fingertip as he followed the throbbing line of the other man's neck, like a smooth path of moonlight. The bone of the even wings of the clavicle bones were hard under the soft layer of thin skin, the ends connecting to broad shoulders and covered by the slightly wrinkled t-shirt.
Breath hitched and the older man's dark brows twitched slightly as he shifted, drawing one arm over his waist as he turned more towards Ed before he settled again, breathing evening out. The blond, fingers still pressed against warm skin, caught under the folds of cool, white fabric. He let out his own sigh when Roy didn't wake up then his heart rate spiked once again as his eyes roamed some more. Just touching wasn't enough; he needed more, to taste, to be as close as he could get.
Hair the color of sunlight fell into his face as he ducked his head, timidly pressing his lips to a spot he'd had his eye on for a while, tucked behind the lobe of the Colonel's ear. Dark hair tickled his nose as he breathed in the heady scent that belonged to Roy, musky and reminding him of a clear night sky. Another kiss, a little farther down, then another and he had to close his eyes because he was being overwhelmed by the taste and the smell that was stoking the heat higher, hotter. All that sweet, salty flavor and then he was tracing his tongue down one collar bone to swirl around in the dip where the two bones met. Then he couldn't get enough, distributing open mouthed kisses all over the strong neck, nipping at the ridge of the older man's Adam's apple, sucking on the soft underside of the sturdy chin. Shit, it was the best thing he had ever tasted and it barely even occurred to him that the dark haired Colonel was still asleep and this was probably considered taking advantage of him. But his insatiable need for this man, this person, had taken over and the more he tasted, the more he wanted. Metal fingers tugged away the collar of the shirt Roy was wearing and he kissed every patch of skin he could reach. His other hand, the one that could feel, delved under the covers and teased the hem of the shirt, running along the stitching before pulling it back and sliding upwards, dragging over warm skin. Now it was getting a little hard to breathe and he wasn't even aware that his thighs were pressing into a firm stomach because he was so intent on finding as much of this beautiful man as he could reach so he could touch all of it. It was then, as his fingers encountered skin that was not so smooth that the body he had been intent on worshipping shifted, the soft, steady breathing catching.
"Hmmmm…this is a nice way to wake up in the morning," the voice was deep, gravely with sleep and Ed nearly jumped out of his skin, gasp loud in the quiet room, pulling away from the older man, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. There was a hand on his own that was still hidden under the shirt, larger fingers holding it firmly in place and the dark eyes, still heavy from just waking, were warm and slightly amused. He could feel it, the embarrassment, flaming across his cheeks like a brand, earning himself a little lopsided grin.
"I-I'm sorry…I didn't mean to wake you up…" those dark eyes slid shut again and he was released as the Colonel rolled onto his back, stretching with a wide yawn, tousled head tipping back as he raised his arms over his head. The blond watched, fascinated, as the sheet shifted away and lean muscle pulled and rippled under the white tee, another wave of desire rattling through him. Then Roy was settling back against the bed again, arms folded under his head, dark eyes smiling up at the flushed teen sitting next to him.
"It's fine. Probably have to get up soon anyway," the statement was made offhandedly, deep voice smooth already and Ed somehow managed to smile weakly, well aware of the blush still scrawled all over his face. He didn't know how the man did it, but as he reclined back in his bed, he looked like a god. Even unshaved. Especially unshaved. The younger alchemist discovered right then that while Roy was hot normally, there really were no words to describe how he looked with a scruffy, five o'clock shadow and his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. And then he remembered, all over again, what said man had done to him the night before and he had to duck his head, hair falling forward to hide the fact that if his blush got any brighter, he would spontaneously combust.
"You still have ten minutes before your alarm goes off," he mumbled, catching his bottom lip between his teeth to find more of the sweet taste clinging there. When there was no movement from the older man, he glanced up through the veil of his hair to find one dark eyebrow had climbed the pale forehead and he shrugged one shoulder, hard, silver fingers clutching the dark sheets next to his hip, "I checked," and Roy chuckled. Was it really fair for someone to look like that; like instead of just waking up, he looked as if he had been doing something else. And then the thought was in his head, that he wished they had been doing that something else. Except, he didn't know how to ask for something like that. Not to say that he had been unsatisfied with what had happened last night but he wanted more than that. Instead he offered a tiny, shy smile, tucking his hair behind one ear self-consciously.
"Waiting for me to wake up, were we?" another chuckle, in response to Ed's flustered glare and he growled a sharp denial, despite the fact that that was exactly what he had been doing. Then the handsome face sobered, the dark gaze deepening "Edward…" and a pale, long fingered hand reached out to him, palm up, just a quiet offering. Gold shifted up, became ensnared in the deepest onyx and he took the offered hand, sliding across the cool sheets to sit beside the older man, their fingers tangling, "It would be a shame if we let those ten minutes go to waste," Roy breathed and the blonde's heart skipped a beat as he looked down at the taller man, drawn to the heat he found in those almond shaped eyes.
"Yeah," a mere thread of a sound, his voiced lost for he was leaning down once more, so he could taste again, so his breath could catch and blood scorch through his veins because he was kissing Roy again. All around them the golden strands of his hair tumbled as their lips met, the contact sweet and lingering. The older man's free hand settled on his lower back, rubbing the bare, golden skin with calloused fingertips that sent chills through the blond. Roy remained reclining, letting Ed lead the contact, which he kept light, unhurried. One kiss led to another, the Colonel's lips sliding, moving with his own, the sloping curve of the bottom lip sometimes pressing into the seam of his own mouth, tasting like bright, black fire. Then the blond drew away only to drag his lips down the rough chin before returning again for another very, very slow, sultry kiss. Breath slid into his mouth as their lips parted, the taste heavy and overwhelming.
He remembered, once more, what had made him start sucking on patches of pale skin before and one hand trailed down a strong chest, his mind dividing as he reached for that stitching of the hem of the shirt. There was a broken groan, half left behind as he led the other man into the next kiss, licking at the peak of his top lip so the white teeth might part and he could dive into Roy's mouth. The slick, dizzying sensation of his tongue sliding with the older man's nearly left him weak, so he was braced with his other hand against a broad shoulder and he forgot for a moment what he was doing with the hand intent on the edge of a white t-shirt. As it was, the grip on his waist had become hard, long fingers sliding unhurriedly up his side and the fiery touch was igniting a heat he was starting to become very familiar with.
Clever, tawny fingers finally regained a bit of memory as he twisted his tongue against Roy's, brushing against the ridges at the top of the older man's mouth and earning himself a breathy groan, caught deep in the Colonel's throat. The sound hitched as his hand slid under the rumpled shirt and teased along the waist line of the dark pajama pants before ghosting upwards in search of territory yet to be explored. The skin he encountered was smooth, twitching at his still-hesitant ministrations, touches that had Roy murmuring softly against his mouth, sliding a hand into golden hair so he could bring the younger alchemist closer. It was then, just as he was tangling his tongue with the one of whose owner's mouth he was currently investigating, his fingers found that skin that was not so smooth, jagged across the flat abdomen and he pulled back, confused when his hand was stopped by an iron grip around his wrist. He blinked down at the other man, whose mouth had been suppressed into a tight, straight line and the dark eyes had flattened, become closed off.
"Wh-what…" he moved his fingers, blunt nails scraping over the raised, uneven skin and the grip on his wrist tightened, becoming painful, unforgiving. He took in the man's expression, the dark head tilting away from him as if Roy was ashamed and he realized this abnormality felt familiar. The blond lifted his fingers, expression softening from confusion to understanding, "Oh," and the dark eyes fell shut, the thick lashes looking stark against the pale cheeks. They were silent for a long moment, the older man not looking at him and he tried to think of words that wouldn't sound insensitive. But he couldn't think of anything at all. So, when the hand caging his own eased its hold slightly, he pressed the flat of his palm against the web of raised lines he had encountered, making the black, clouded gaze snap back to his face.
"May I see?" he asked, voice soft and he had no idea what the older man saw on his face but it resulted in the freeing of his hand so he could pull the shirt back, shimmying it up the firm torso. There was no disappointment or pity in his face when the shirt was finally pulled away, bunching around the older man's chest to reveal a rather brutal and frighteningly large web of scars. The worst of them were clustered just below the right side of the man's rib cage, spidering out in long, misshapen lines, nearly reaching the dip of Roy's navel and ending just where his hip jutted out over the top of his pants. It was stark, even against his pale skin, the silver marks mapping out a story of woeful violence. But, as was his way, curiosity got the better of him as he gently traced a section of the scars, eyes watching his fingers, "What happened?" It took the Colonel a long moment to answer, eyes still closed but the hand still holding Ed's waist slid around so his entire arm circled him, drawing the smaller alchemist against his unmarked side.
"During the war, we were ordered to execute, to kill without question, any Ishvalite we came across. Women, children, it didn't matter. There were a whole group of them in a building and they were begging me to spare at least the kids but I couldn't disobey orders…I didn't realize the building was sitting on two propane tanks…" Ed swallowed hard, lifting his eyes to find the thin, dark eyebrows drawn down tightly as the older man relived a time of fire and violence, "I suppose I deserved it…and I can still see their faces," the deep voice had become rough and his grip on Ed's waist painful but the teen just sat there, letting Roy talk, "Just one little spark, that was all it took. An entire block was destroyed," the blond could see the pain etched in the pale, chiseled features and bit his lip. It was a sad tale but then so was his own and he had long ago sworn never to pity anyone because he hated it for himself. So he just shifted his weight, straightening his legs and laying himself out so he was pressed flush against the older man's side, fingers still working over the silvery web of scars. When he spoke, his voice was warm but not patronizing or sympathetic.
"You can't do anything about it now. Regretting doesn't change anything," he said this because he knew and there was just a soft hum in response. Long strands of sunlight spread out over a pale chest, caught in the pull of his breathing, which he pressed into a strong shoulder as he continued to stroke the roughened skin. He wondered at the older man's reaction, though when he thought about it, it was similar to what his own had been. It was like Roy expected the younger man to shy away in the face of such imperfection, like he thought Ed would think him ugly. Which was a bit ridiculous. After all, the blond was missing two of his limbs, substituted with hard metal. He'd be a bit of a hypocrite if he thought like that. As a matter of fact, something about the scars, the mark of violence, of fire, only added to the older man's looks, giving it a depth, an intensity that made him even more beautiful. With a soft sigh, the blond leaned forward, panting a kiss on the Colonel's stomach where one of the mangled threads ended before pulling the shirt back in place. They were quiet again, his face pressed into the crook of a strong arm, warmth seeping through their connection. All that could be heard was their steady breathing, honey colored eyes watching the slope of the broad chest rising and falling gently. When Roy spoke again, his voice hitched, hesitating.
"Might I ask you something?" the blond tilted his head so he could see the older man's face but he only caught a glimpse of a stubble covered jaw as the dark head was still turned away. So he reached around and snagged long fingers, wrapping them around his own.
"Hmm," again a hesitation and he tried to see Roy's face again, once more before he gave up and went back to watching the bigger man breathe.
"What you said yesterday…was it…was it because you were excited or did you really mean it?" Ed blinked, recalling quite clearly what he had said and floundered for a moment, embarrassed. He shouldn't have been; he did mean it after all and Roy had, for all intents and purposes, said it to him first. It was just, he was completely unprepared and he had always thought that something like this should be done at the right moment, not thrown around as he had done. Stupid. He had probably thrown the Colonel for one hell of a loop. Yet the tone the older man was using was hopeful, tugging at the blond so that he pressed his lips against the side of the clothed chest, fingers tightening in Roy's.
"N-no, I meant it. I probably shouldn't have blurted it out like that though, huh?" and gave a nervous laugh, trying, in a roundabout way, to apologize for his big, blabbing mouth. But his heart was running around in frantic circles, bouncing rapidly around in his chest. There was another pause, in which his fingers were teased, his grip being undone and then calloused fingertips nudging playfully at his own. He could tell, by the angle of the older man's head, Roy was watching the surprisingly intimate dance of their hands, tawny gold twining with dusky silver. For a moment he was beginning to think the older man wouldn't say anything and laziness was starting to drag at him, pull him under when the deep voice pulled him all the way awake again.
"Ed," his hummed, just as the older man had done, as he felt too lethargic to actually find the effort to form words. A hitch in breath and then three more words that brought his world to a halt as it was the first time he was hearing them said, "I love you," just like that and it was all glaringly real. Well, it had always been real but those three words and he belonged, entirely, body, soul and every last piece of his heart to this man he was currently lying against, warm and safe. Breath catching around the obstruction in his throat, he pulled his hand away from Roy's and tossed it over the older man's torso, hugging him tight, never wanting to let go.
"Me too, Roy," his words were muffled in the soft fabric of the man's t-shirt but the Colonel had heard him and the arm around his waist tightened. A hand snaked around, under his chin and he looked up into the darkest eyes he had ever seen that were burning with a fire that belonged only to him. Then he was being pulled into a kiss that he felt all the way down to his metal toes, the warmth curling through him in great, slow, looping waves. While it may not have been the hottest kiss he shared with the older man nor the longest, it seeped into him so that their words were manifested in the sliding, caressing contact of their joined lips. Over and over, the whole while, the words echoed in his ears, floating around like puffy clouds in his head, I love you…Ed, I love you…
The wailing cry of the alarm clock broke them apart, his skin nearly shooting straight off his body and he gasped with the surge of adrenaline, his heart pounding out a mile long sprint on the back of his tongue. They stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide with surprise and then Ed ducked his head with a laugh, trying to get his heart rate back under control. The older man tossed a pillow at the clock, shutting it off and promptly knocking it to the floor before grinning at the younger alchemist.
"Guess that means I have to get up," he said, reluctance thick in his voice and the blond mirrored his expression, threading his fingers through the dark hair. Gold eyes scrunched slightly in amusement, though he was a little disappointed their moment had been broken into.
"Guess so," the dark eyes lifted to his, returning the sentiment before the older man sat up, kissing Ed once, twice before sliding from the bed, face set in resignation, voice mock serious.
"As much as I'd like to continue our previous activities, my dear, I'm afraid I can't be late for work," and the dark haired then had to duck as a pillow-made-missile was launched at his head, guided by a metal hand.
"THIS DOESN'T MAKE ME YOUR GIRLFRIEND, YOU BASTARD COLONEL!!" he yelled at the swiftly retreating back as the older man made his way from the room, laughing and dodging another pillow as he went. Despite that, he was pretty sure the blond was glowing. The man might be an arrogant bastard but he was Ed's arrogant bastard. Though, the older man wouldn't last very long if he kept calling the smaller alchemist "my dear".
With a sharply expelled breath, the blond flopped back onto the bed, limbs akimbo, hair spread around him. The bed felt too flat under his head and he gave the pillows on the floor a glance but decided it was too much of an effort to get up and get them and just missed them instead, eyebrows puckered with annoyance. It was a superficial irritation, though, because there was a mini sun burning away within his chest, fueled by three little words that shouldn't mean anything much but really meant the entire world. He listened as the bathroom door shut and the shower was turned on, thinking of the man doing every day activities like nothing had happened. But something had happened, something huge and once in a life time and Ed tingled with the monumental feeling.
His quiet, husky laugh echoed in the large room, the vibrations of the sound tickling his fingers that he had pressed to his lips to capture it. The radiant joy just seemed to want to burst out of him, trying to slip through the cracks so that he was burying his face in dark sheets smelling of the man who just said he loved him, I love you, his laughter rolling over him until his ribs ached and he had to catch his breath by lifting his face from the sheets.
It was then he realized he was crying too.
**
The alarm clock, it seemed, liked to fuck with him, kicking up a fuss from where it had fallen from the floor and he leaped from the bed, snarling every curse he could think of, which was a lot as he was proficient in the language of swearing. Only the snooze button had been pressed when it had been sent tumbling to the floor, something he quickly remedied before replacing it on its little table. The pillows were retrieved from the floor as he scrubbed at his damp cheeks, glad Roy was in the shower and wouldn't see his rather interesting reaction. It wasn't like he was upset. On the contrary but the only time he had ever seen people cry because they were happy was on TV. And those tears were fake. Great. Eighteen years old, a State Alchemist and he was crying because someone had told him they loved him.
Though it wasn't just any someone. It was his someone. Yes, and now I sound like a fucking Hallmark card. Fantastic. Tawny fingers carded through the tangles of his blond hair falling about his shoulders as he breathed a heavy sigh. There was no point in going back to bed now, away. Even if he didn't have to actually go in to the office today, there was a book he needed to decode and it wasn't something he could take his time on either.
Speaking of the book, it came in handy once again when making breakfast. He had slipped into the older man's closet before he left the bedroom and snatched a dark blue button down shirt that reached his mid-thigh, smelling of detergent and the cologne the Colonel used. It had kind of surprised him, that all the recipes were real. Yesterday, he had sat down with every intention of attempting to break the code and had been struck by a sharp curiosity to see if they were real. Of course they were. Simple but if he could make a good meal out of them they were pretty good. He kind of knew that they were real; after all people would have noticed if there was a book with bogus information. Still, it came in handy in more than one way, it seemed. Ed smiled to himself as he leaned over the counter and leafed through the front of the book, hunting for something he could surprise Roy with. Too bad he couldn't thank Dr. Marco for putting so much heart into the book, even if it was just a disguise.
By the time the dark haired Colonel found him in the kitchen, dressed, shaved (disappointingly enough) and rubbing a towel over his damp hair, the blond had filled the house with the smell of their breakfast and a stack of crepes were piled high on a dish near the stove. Once again he didn't hear the older man enter the room as he was listening to the radio (again) the murmur of the news being broadcasted by a soft woman's alto, every once and a while pushing strands of hair out of his eyes. There was a report about the Central Library burning to the ground and it caught his interest, wondering why it was taking them this long to talk about a headline like that. He was grumbling to the report and putting the last crepe into the dish before he was caught up from behind, crushed against a strong, broad torso. His yelp might have woken the neighbors before a pair of warm lips pressed into the side of his neck, cool, damp hair getting his cheek wet.
"Christ, don't sneak up on me like that! You walk like a fucking cat," his protest was loud as he tried to break free of the Colonel's grasp so he could finish making breakfast but the grip around his waist tightened, becoming like a cage of iron and warm breath. He tugged again, feeling himself relaxing into the embrace despite himself, "Come on, Roy, get off," but the man continued to lean on him, brushing teasing kisses over the soft skin of the blonde's neck and just gave a low, wordless complaint. Ed sighed in exasperation, tilting his head back to rest against a broad shoulder, "What are you, like, four?" finally the older man breathed a small laugh that ghosted like a another warm kiss over his skin before he lifted his dark head out of the teen's neck and rested his chin on a metal shoulder, giving the younger alchemist a sense of déjà vu.
"But you look so sexy, standing here in one of my shirts," the man's voice was like a fiery touch, flaring through his body. He tightened his grip on the strong wrist he had metal fingers wrapped around, remembering last night, remembering that morning and knew this simple embrace could spiral into something more.
"Really, Roy," even to himself, his voice sounded weak, broken down under the other man's touch, "You're going to be late," another protest without words and he was pressed harder against the countertop, the edge biting into his lower abdomen uncomfortably. Molten gold was shuttered away by heavy eyelids and he flushed furiously as the words left his mouth, "At least wait until later…" with those words the dark haired man stiffened, his hold tensing around the younger alchemist, who cracked an eye open so he could see the dark gaze peering into his face, smoldering quietly.
"Is that an invitation?" Ed suppressed a shiver and tried to do the same with the sudden thundering heat rushing to his face but he bit his lip as he looked away, already a steady desire working through him under the discomfiture. It was most certainly an invitation; last night he had gotten a taste and now he wanted the rest.
"Yes. Now get the hell off of me," there was a deep chuckle that just succeeded in spiking that burning craving even brighter breathed into his ear and then he was being released, the older man backing away to find them some plates. When the blond glanced at him over his shoulder, the dark eyes were watching him over the sexiest smile he'd ever seen the bigger man wear.
"It's a date then," and the fire was back, spreading over Ed's face so he had to turn away and busy himself with finishing off the crepes, turning the stove off as he did. They were quiet for a long moment, what had just passed between them fading away as he set out a bowl of strawberries and a hazelnut spread he had found in one of the cabinets. Roy was standing by his chair with an abstracted look on his face, as if he was thinking about something that had him caught up in his own mind, long fingers absently tracing the little design carved into the back of the chair. The blond was sitting down when the older man spoke again, dark eyes snapping back to the present.
"You know, we should go on a date. A real date, like a movie then dinner type date and I can bring you flowers and kiss you good night. We don't have to be obvious about it if you think it's weird but…I'd…like to take you out…" then Roy shrugged helplessly, looking a little unsure in the wake of the lame way he had presented the proposal. However lame and inelegant it might have been, Ed was still stunned, fork frozen and hovering over the steaming pile of crepes. He opened his mouth only to close it again, golden eyes wide and bright with surprise. The Colonel had just asked him out, despite the fact that they had already kind of skipped that stage and had moved right on through to the "I love you"-s and blow jobs. Yet he wasn't stunned in a bad way. On the contrary, it was kind of nice, strangely enough. The older man seemed to take his mute reaction negatively and was plopping into his chair, leaning over and catching Ed's free hand with both of his bigger ones, "I know you're supposed to be out of town for a while and can't be seen around the city so we can wait a week or two but—" a tan, slender finger brushed against the dark haired man's mouth, bringing his verbal panic attack to a stumbling halt. Dark eyes lifted to meet his own and he hoped his smile was somewhat encouraging.
"I'd love to go on a date," he said softly, now running all four fingers over the soft, warm surface of the other man's bottom lip, hot breath easing over his skin as Roy breathed. The dark gaze lit up as his hand was caught and the older man pressed a kiss on the back of his hand before releasing the younger man. The almond shaped eyes crinkled slightly when the Colonel smiled, a fine touch of lines that made him look distinguished rather than older.
"Good," then he was eyeing the spread the younger man had made for breakfast, a look of appreciation sweeping over his pale features, "What's all this?" and Ed flushed, unwilling to admit it was a thank you for the night before. Instead he shrugged nonchalantly, nearly overflowing his plate, mouth watering.
"It's just something I wanted to try. That book had some interesting recipes," he said off handedly and nodded in satisfaction as he took the first bite. Well, at least they didn't disappoint. Roy praised him with a little hum, mouth full and eyes lighting up and that was enough for the smaller alchemist, grinning into his plate as they ate in relative silence, the clinking of silverware on porcelain filling the kitchen. He was almost full, having crammed in more than half the crepes into his stomach when he was distracted when the older man caught a bit of the hazelnut spread on his finger and absently sucked it clean, the digit disappearing into his mouth for a brief moment. And suddenly Ed couldn't stop staring because he knew what that mouth felt like, the warm, wet heat enclosing around him, sucking him deeper and deeper…
"Hey, Roy," the words blurted out of his mouth before he could even think to drag them back and the dark gaze darted to him before the man took a anther bite of food, unsuspecting interest on his sharp features. Ed swallowed once, then again before taking a deep breath and just looking squarely at the man, curiosity getting the better of him, "How did you get me so deep in your throat last night?" well, he probably should have waited until after the man was done drinking from his glass because a second later they were both wearing orange juice as the older alchemist sputtered and choked when he tried to inhale the liquid in his surprise. Fighting another blush, he just wiped his face off and waited for the Colonel to compose himself, pinning the blond teen with a wide, incredulous stare.
"What?!" Roy gasped, wiping at the front of his uniform that had taken the brunt of the spill, meeting Ed's blunt gaze. The kid lifted one shoulder in discomfort but he wanted to know so he wasn't going to back down.
"You heard me," he said, voice as steady as he could make it and he could see the older man visibly trying to steady himself, running long fingers through his dark hair, making it fall into one onyx eye that slid away from the younger alchemist. He could see him fighting embarrassment before Roy took another quick swallow of his orange juice, steeling himself.
"It's just…just a matter of relaxing your throat muscles so the gag reflex isn't triggered…why do you want to know, anyway?" and now Ed was blushing, something that was starting to become highly irritating because he couldn't seem to stop and he ducked his head again, golden hair sweeping down to hide his face.
"Just curious. It was…nice…" well, that's one way of putting it, though "nice" was a rather grave injustice to what he had experienced the night before. Roy snorted, going back to his plate, a pale stain of pink washing over the sharp cheekbones and the blond filed the information away. He was defiantly trying it when he got a chance. They had just finished eating and he was carrying the plates to the sink when he was once again caught around the waist, lips caught in a blinding kiss. It was hard, almost making him drop the dishes, sensation of smooth skin moving with his own, tasting of hazelnut and orange juice leaving him somewhat incoherent. When Roy pulled away, his dark eyes were like black holes, trying to sweep him away.
"You shouldn't ask questions like that if you aren't prepared for the consequences," the deep voice flowed over him like expensive silk, rich, smooth and he shivered, his own golden eyes heating up, turning into twin pools of lava. Falling into the tempting touch of hands at his hips, holding him in place and his chest pressed against the broader one, he looked up from under his lashes, lips curling in a lopsided smile.
"I have to ask so I can return the favor. How else will I learn…Colonel?" the man's title came out as a breathy whisper and the slanted eyes flashed brightly before he was crushed in a brutal grip, plates taken from his hands and put down somewhere so they wouldn't crash to the floor when his hold on them slackened. Roy's mouth was almost violent in its assault, prying his mouth open for the older man to plunge into. Hands were in his hair, under his chin, tilting his head back and he returned the kiss eagerly, lips sliding with the Colonel's, desire spiking to dangerous levels. The dark hair was still a little wet from the man's shower, cool under his fingertips as he grabbed a few fistfuls so he could gain some leverage and push back, tangling his tongue with the slick muscle delivering sweeping licks to his own.
Something was knocked to the floor when he was shoved against the counter but neither of them cared to break apart to look, letting the unknown object just roll away to disappear somewhere under a piece of furniture. Breathing had become just a little difficult, flames burning through him until he felt disjointed from his brain, only able to feel. Feel as that tongue did wicked things to his mouth, lips sucking and teeth nipping, all the while their mouths joined, hard and demanding. He almost felt that if he had just a little bit more, he might be able to taste the older man's very soul, bright and sweet. But he never really got the chance to find out because Roy was ripping away, eyes dark and heavy as they gazed down at him, that pink flush back on the pale cheeks.
"You're going to make me late for work, damn brat," the older man growled, leaning his forehead against the blonde's, dark hair tickling his tawny skin and he couldn't help a little breathless laugh, sifting his fingers through the shaggy strands. Strong arms had pulled him tight to a broader chest, their hips aligned and he realized that any further and neither of them would be able to stop. As it was he was already half hard and judging by the semi-interested bulge in the Colonel's pants, pressing into the blonde's hip, he was in the same predicament.
"Too bad. Just when things were getting good," and he grinned as he pulled away, registering the steamy look that comment got him as he picked the plates back up and turned away with a flick of his hair. Roy took a deep, steadying breath as the blond watched him from the corner of his eye, tugging at his jacket before the burning gaze was back, pinning him.
"You're a tease, Ed," to which the younger man laughed, leaning against the sink and folding his arms over his chest. The dark haired man did look a little flustered and Ed kind of felt bad for him because at least the teen could do something about his arousal once the older man left. Roy, on the other hand, was stuck. He just shrugged, enjoying the slip in the Colonel's mask of cool confidence before the dark haired man sighed, resigned, "Hawkeye did promise a rather bloody meeting with that damn pistol of hers if I was late again, though," and the blond grinned at the mental picture. He followed the older man to the laundry room, watching quietly as he pulled his boots on and was surprised when the older man pulled out a familiar set of keys, barely managing to catch them as they were tossed at him, blinking when the dark haired man pulled on a leather jacket he had never noticed before.
"I'm leaving the 'Vette with you, though hopefully you won't need it. Remember, you're not supposed to even be in Central," Ed blinked, staring at the keys in his hand then watched the older man's back as he opened the door, letting in the fumes from the garage before he opened the outer door.
"But what are you going to drive?" the younger alchemist hurried after the Colonel and was snared by the bright look that was shot over one broad shoulder, something shining there he couldn't identify.
"Come see," curiosity peaked, he followed the bigger man out into the driveway and around the side of the house where a shed was tucked away at the end of a gravely path, neat and inconspicuous. The blond stood to the side as Roy unlocked the doors and pushed them open. His knees weakened when he saw what waited for them.
It was the most beautiful motorcycle he had ever seen in his life.
The body of the bike was sleek, powerful, done in a dark blue paint that shone in the light. The center of gravity was higher, nearly parallel with the handlebars, suggesting speed, agility and grace. The mechanics were all brushed chrome, the duel, straight shot exhaust promising a throaty sound and the back tire was thicker than the front, again hinting at suppleness. On the side was stamped the Harley-Davidson logo, unobtrusive with a promise of raw power. All in all, the machine was nothing short of a beast, leaning innocently on its stand as it waited to be started, to growl, to be set loose.
"Oh, holy fuck," the blond breathed, reaching out and dragging a finger over the hand breaks, marveling. There was a soft chuckle in his ear and he turned to find an amused dark gaze as the man watched, a dark, full face modular helmet propped on one hip, looking impossibly gorgeous in his leather jacket.
"You like it?" he was being asked and he turned back to the bike so he could stare some more, fingertips already itching as his mind supplied what it might be like to drive it. He wondered if the older man would teach him how. That thought had all sorts of things popping into his head and he shivered with a different kind of desire.
"Are you kidding? It's freaking awesome," he rasped, practically drooling over the bike, eyes still roaming all over the mechanics, taking in every last detail. Another chuckle and the older man walked around to the opposite side of the motorcycle, dark eyes glittering in the darkness of the shed. A hand caught his chin so the older man could give him a gentle peck on the lips, the gesture sweet and fleeting.
"I'll give you a ride on it later if you behave yourself and stay out of trouble," the blond nodded dumbly, excitement pulsing through him at the prospect of getting to ride on Roy's bike and was caught in another kiss before the older man straightened up and slipped the helmet on over his dark head, eyes shuttered from view. The younger alchemist stepped from the shed as the Colonel swung his leg over the bike. He had never seen anything so sexy in his entire life; the sight of Roy on that bike in that helmet and that jacket and, oh god, the damn thing practically snarled when it was started, the sound racing through him like little tongues of flame. The fiery ache of lust he had half-forgotten about was back full force, heating his skin to a dusky glow. The older man gave him a little wave before kicking the bike into gear, starting to pull from the shed and out onto the path.
Then Ed remembered something and he caught Roy as he got to the driveway, voice just barely audible over the rumble of the bike and catching the older man's attention. One leg came down from the pedals as he stepped up next to the grumbling bike, putting one hand over the Colonel's on the handle bars. He pulled the visor up and leaned in, kissing the end of the sharp nose as that was all he could really reach, bumping his head against the lifted plastic of the dark visor.
"I want to give you the damn flowers," he half shouted, lopsided smile in place and watched at the dark eyes took a moment before the man caught on, deep, fathomless depths lighting up. Before he knew it, the helmet was being pulled off and he was dragged forward to be crushed against Roy's side, his mouth trapped once more under Roy's. It was hot and sloppy but deep, a swift, efficient plundering. He could feel the strain of the older man's thigh muscles against his own as he kept his bike standing upright, a hand tangling in his hair, the vibrations from the engine coursing through his body. When they pulled apart, he had to blink several times to clear his vision and when he did, the gaze he was ensnared in was bright, the expression in them almost physically painful in its intensity. A thumb ran over his slightly swollen lips before he stepped away, letting the older man go with a smile.
"Love you, Major Elric!" a short, sharp salute and then the helmet was once again obscuring the dark gaze before the Colonel peeled away, barely slowing down as he tore into the street and roared out of sight. Ed stood there in the driveway, in nothing but his boxers and Roy's shirt, hair tumbling around his face as he pressed his fingertips to his burning mouth. Thick emotions roiled over him, searing hot trails under his skin, leaving him so full that he wasn't sure whether he should be laughing or crying. But then again, he had done both of those already so he just stood there, glowing like a hundred watt bulb, smiling against his fingertips as his eyes slid across the dark pavement of the driveway. Love you, Major Elric…Ed…Ed, I love you…
"I love you too, Colonel Mustang," he whispered, the words feeling soft against his hand, a tiny thrill going through him. Then he was recalling how the man looked, straddling that beast of a motorcycle, hair tossed from being in the helmet, fitted leather pulled over the blue uniform and dark eyes burning like hot coals and, oh yes, that was definitely the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life, the heat of desire spiking like bright, black fire. The smile turned into a grin as the blond finally turned to go back into the house.
Oh, yes. Definitely shower fantasy worthy.
Roy
As far as his favorite things to do go, riding his bike is close to the top of the list.
For one thing, he felt incredibly free darting down the open streets with just an engine between his knees, the growl working through him until he felt he was part for the machinery. He became more than just a driver; he almost felt part of the motorcycle. Each movement was fluid, using his knees and his core to turn the vehicle; a simple flex of muscles and the bike was obeying like it was reading his mind, like an extension of himself. It was true driving his Corvette was always a thrill but there was something about rumbling down the road on a Harley that had the blood pounding through his veins just a little harder, something close to pleasure filtering under his skin. It wasn't sexual in anyway, more like a pleasant buzz that ensured he was in a good mood for the rest of the day. As it was, he was grinning before he was even down the street, the lovely purr of his bike drawing attention and turning heads.
Although, the smile might have something more to do with the morning he had shared with a certain blond haired, golden eyed alchemist than his bike. The way those startling eyes had lit up when he had said those three words and how his own heart had stuttered and warmed when they were returned. Honestly, he hadn't expected Ed be so forthcoming but the kid had barely hesitated. Someone could have run him over at a street light right then and he would have died happy. Of course, he doubted the kid would appreciate it. At any rate, he would be repeating the morning over and over again in his head while he was stuck doing paper work with a barrel of a gun at the back of his head.
Though, his second favorite part was when he had once again come into the kitchen to find the blond in front of the stove after the older man had followed the tantalizing smell of something cooking, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Roy's shirts. All that golden hair had hung tangled down the younger man's back and the dark haired Colonel had to breathe slowly for a few moments, fingernails digging into his palms, before he was sure he could control the urge to drag the younger alchemist to the floor and take him right there on the wooden floor boards. Especially once Ed started teasing him, the golden gaze turning into wide pools of molten invitation. Damn work and that psychotic Lt. of his who tended to go postal when he was late. With the giddy joy brought on by mutual sentiments of love and the sight of the teen in just about nothing but a shirt, he would have taken his entire day and given it to Ed.
That thought was heartily agreed with by other parts of his anatomy and he shifted on his bike as he stopped at a light, regret sweeping through him. If only he had time to find out what Ed had made of his rather hurried explanation of deep throating. Then he realized that thinking about the blond doing to him what he had done to Ed the night before was probably better not done on his bike. Especially not with the vibrations from the engine seeping through him. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable.
To distract himself, he glanced at the little red convertible that pulled up next to him and got an interested and curious glace from the woman behind the wheel. She was really quite pretty, with her dark hair blown all around her head in loose curls and big eyes set in a pale, sweet face. Once, he might have returned the glance; lifted up his visor and winked one of his own dark eyes, knowing full well what he looked like on his bike in his uniform. Once it might have made the problem he was having even worse. But now, the corner of his lips just quirked upwards at the corner and he turned away, gratefully distracted, his dilemma magically eased. She might be pretty but she couldn't come close to the beautiful blond he had at home.
Roy recalled, then, what that blond had given him that morning and he was barking a delighted laugh against the inside of his helmet as he tore away from the light, balanced on his back wheel, pretty girl in the little convertible completely forgotten. Never again would he look at another girl (or guy) in anything more than he needed to be polite. Why would he when he had Ed? Beautiful, golden, fiery Ed who loved him, whom he loved…
**
Roy was rather disappointed to reach the parking lot at Headquarters, even having gone the long way so he might get a little more time on his bike. With a reluctant backwards glance he left it sitting mournfully in an empty spot, tucking his helmet under his arm and made his way to the office, absently flicking his fingers through his hair so it wouldn't look too sloppy. Stupid helmet law, messing up his hair, though he would never ride his bike without one; he'd heard too many horror stories about people who rode without them. He preferred living over neat hair.
It was with an easy smile he entered the office, only a couple minutes late to be greeted with a rather unpleasant surprise.
His eyes had flickered around the office, looking for the shine of bright blond hair and the blood thirsty gleam of dark hazel eyes to find only Havoc was at his desk, talking softly with Furey, both gazes, blue and dark brown darting to their superior officer as the dark haired man practically tiptoed into the room. He gave the younger man a little shrug, indicating at one desk in particular in a silent question. Those bight eyes flicked around the room and then he was given the thumbs up, which meant Riza had left the office. Grateful, he slipped into his own office, catching Havoc's envious comment of,
"It's not fair that he looks like that and has a bike," it was mumbled to Furey, who he was sure offered the blond Second Lt. a consolatory pat on the back because that was how the younger man was and he grinned to himself. Jean had always been a little bitter, claiming Roy always took the good women and left nothing for the blond. Well, he couldn't really complain about that anymore, especially since the person the Colonel had fallen for wasn't even female. It was a little strange, when he paused to think about it. Sure, the issue of the Major's gender had occurred to him but it had never really been a something to stall his affection. Ed couldn't be anything but what he was and that was perfectly fine. It had been the first time he'd laid eyes on the kid in the dingy hallway of one of the city's high schools. The fact that he had been labeled Central's "Ladies Man" and had lived up to the reputation now mattered very little. Ed was Ed and boy or not, that was who he had fallen in love with. Havoc could have any woman he wanted and he would shake his hand and congratulate him. Well, maybe not the last part as the man would only think the Colonel was mocking him, but he still wouldn't begrudge him anything.
He had barely tossed his helmet onto the couch, eyeing the infuriatingly high pile of paperwork waiting for him on his desk when there was a soft step at the door, his only warning before the familiar alto broke through the quiet of the room.
"We need to talk, Roy," he whirled, surprised, half expecting to see the familiar stern look his Lt. usually pinned him with when he was late or hadn't finished his paperwork but there was nothing usual about how the blond approached him. She had closed his door right off the bat, something she never did unless he ordered her to and the corners of her eyes were pinched. Yet, most of all, she had used his name, dropping the title altogether. Definitely something she never did, even outside of work. Combing fingers through his hair as he tried to steady his leaping heart rate, he answered with the same seriousness he was being presented with.
"What is it, Hawkeye?" the blond pulled a folder from under her arm and handed it to him, the pinched look around her eyes becoming more pronounced.
"That officer you had me look up, the one that fired the first shot during the first conflict with Ishval..." he glanced at her when she broke off, taking note of the dark, troubled frown and he mirrored the expression, taking the folder to his desk and flipping it open. Inside was a few pictures, a military record of a soldier he'd never heard of and a copy of a death certificate. He thumbed through the pages, taking note of the pictures, all in black and white then shifted to the relatively thin record of the soldier's time in the military.
"But what's—" he started, dark brows furrowed as he scanned the page. Died in combat, commendable record, clean, no reprimands or reports of misconduct. Nothing strange about it. But the Lt. shifted from where she had come to stand in front of his desk, pointing towards the death certificate.
"Look at the dates," even her voice was strained and he snuck another glance at her before doing as suggested, wondering what could be so bad as to warrant a look such as that. His eyes scanned the dates then scanned them again, his frown deepening and he blinked.
"Well, that can't be right," he muttered, sifting through the soldier's record. Sure enough, the dates matched. The problem was, they couldn't possibly be real, as the man, one Sergeant Julian Douglas, had been killed two years before the first war with Ishval had even started. He picked up one of the pictures and studied it. Two soldiers, one a Lt. Colonel the other a Sergeant, obviously Douglas, were grinning at the camera as they horsed around, looking a little rough around the edges as if they had just fought a hard battle. He stared at the Sergeant, something tugging at him as he took in the flat, colorless features.
"See, that's what I thought and I did some more—" then Roy's eyes widened, his wordless exclamation cutting the blond off, shock rolling through him as he stared at the picture. He knew that face, having seen it once before in a library as its owner had spat poison at Edward before stalking off, leaving a wake of bad feeling behind. Riza was peering over the edge of the picture he had begun to wrinkle in a grip that had become unforgiving, dark eyes nearly bugging out of his head, "Do you know him, Colonel?" her voice was curious as she tugged the picture out of his hands so her dark gaze could see it better.
"He's…Yeah, I've seen him…but how…?" and he was at a loss for words, picking up the next picture and staring at it, "He should be nearly forty years old by now and he doesn't look a day older than Ed," he breathed, going back to the report again. It was consistent to what his contact had told him a few days ago, but the visible proof was a bit unnerving. This Douglas had been a likeable person, according to the notes from his superiors, ready to help, to smile; nothing like the slimy creep he'd met briefly among the dark stacks of a library. Riza fixed him with a flat stare.
"He should be dead," she pointed out, flicking slender fingers at the death certificate, "And he should have died before he shot that little boy that started the war the first time around," her words hung thickly in the air, like an oily cloud that crept under his clothes and crawled over his skin, leaving him irritable and with a growing desire to rip into this mystery with both hands, regardless of consequence.
"Do you have anything on the current Sergeant Douglas?" he asked quietly, hoping for some answers but was disappointed by a jerky shake of a blond head and the deepening of the troubled frown.
"The only thing I could find was that there is no Douglas on the current records. It was like, he had been erased from the records after the start of the war. But I did find a report of his arrest for insubordination," and he nodded, swirling a fingertip over the smooth emulsion of the familiar face grinning at him from behind the photo's frame.
"Are you sure that it was Douglas that fired the first shot?" not that it really mattered as the face was the same. The real Sergeant Julian Douglas had died a long time ago yet his likeness was still stalking the halls of Headquarters. What made him even more uncomfortable, the "boy" he had met seemed to have some sort of malicious claim on Ed.
"Yes, there was a log from a fellow soldier in the same platoon who watched as Douglas pulled the trigger. Well, whoever is pretending to be Douglas," her voice was thoughtful. Roy glared down at the photos on his desk, as if his gaze would set the papers on fire. Like that would make the truth disappear. Too bad things couldn't be that easy. One snap of the fingers and everything could go back to how they were, before dead people began starting wars and making a general confusing mess of things. He didn't realize he had been quiet for too many beats until the Lt. was leaning forward to catch his eye, her own still shadowed, "Colonel?" she asked and he scrubbed a hand through his hair, eyes sliding over the picture of just Douglas, nearly hidden at the bottom of the pile. Dark hair, long and pulled back into a neat tale, wide shining eyes, slender build. The expression was different, warmer but there was no mistaking the face.
"It's strange," he mused darkly, gears beginning to spin behind black, slanted eyes, "It's the same person but he doesn't go by the name Julian kid I met calls himself Envy," He knew then it wasn't the stone the military was after. It was after something much bigger and they were all stuck in the middle, trapped, unwilling pawns in a game most of them weren't even aware of yet. Dark eyes remained glued to the pictures, a flash of bright, venomous purple flashing in his mind.
Strings were being pulled and he had a feeling the military had just become a means to an end.
Al
The one thing Al discovered about fighting a war was that he had never been so tired in his entire life.
Between the constant intense surges of adrenaline while trying to stay alive and the use of alchemy all day long, by the time he was schlepping his way back to his tent, his limbs felt like they were made from lead, his head pounded until the light filtering through his eyelashes stung and he was sure he wouldn't make it into the inviting embrace of his cot. His hair dripped icy water into his face and down the back of his uniform from when he had scrubbed the thick blood that had covered his hands to his elbows, the cold, wet touches jarring against his hot skin. The Ishvalites had been brutally efficient that day, killing almost a dozen of Ametris's soldiers before the sun was even at its zenith, forcing them to retreat once again. Then he had been ordered to the medical tent where there were even more men bleeding, torn open, dying. So many, and most of them he hadn't even been able to save. Two had died under his hands, their souls slipping from their broken bodies before he had a chance to complete the circles.
Never in his life did he feel more like crying than he did right now. Every life that had been lost was like a physical blow, his heart aching and swollen within his chest. Two days and the upbeat, positive outlook he had always had on life had become shrouded in darkness.
The sun was dipping towards the horizon, turning a bright bloody orange that reminded him of the red that had been staining his fingers and he watched the light dripping down from the sky as he pushed the flap to his tent back. The sky was clear, bright and it reminded him of a time his brother had taken him to a place outside of the city when they were both still in school to watch a sunset much like this one. His heart gave a sharp throb. He missed his brother like Ed had been one of his own limbs and it had been cut off, the ache sometimes so intense his vision blurred. Al had thought about calling him several times, just to hear his voice, but when he wasn't trying to save another life, he was sleeping, leaving little time to make a phone call.
Yet as much as he wanted nothing more than to crash into his cot and let dreams of blood and tears sweep him away, when he ducked underneath the canvas, he found his cot wasn't empty.
Blond hair spilled over the single blanket, catching on the rough material before tumbling over the side of the platform. The only thing he could really see was the top of the impossibly bright head and the teasing curve of a feminine hip in the gloomy shadows under the thick canvas. One slender arm fell gracefully over the edge of the cot, fingers brushing the hard packed earth of the ground. For a long moment he stood frozen just inside the opening, staring, his breath hitching slightly every time he tried to inhale. Since she had come here the day before, Al had not seen Winry, sometimes feeling as if she was not in the same camp at all. In reality, he had meant to find her long before this, to talk her into going back home, as far away from this nightmare as she could. Instead, now as he stared at her, the words fell in useless, icy chunks at his feet.
What made it worse was that she was wearing a uniform much like his own.
Yet, what could he say to her? He had no claims on her other than being a long time friend. Besides, she was older than him; she could do whatever she wanted. Not to mention she was as stubborn as his brother and once she made her mind up, there was no swaying her decision. The tall blond just wished there was something that he could do to keep her safe, to spare her this. But he knew there wasn't. So he unlocked his joints, swallowing that familiar flutter he always got when he was around the girl and made his way over to the side of the cot, crouching down beside it so his face was level with the girl's were she lay on her side, knees tucked against her stomach, his blanket pressed to her nose.
He had thought Winry was asleep but as he peered into her shadowed face, the bright eyes were wide open, fathomless depths darkened and swirling with grief, the emotions welling up over the dulled color to run in clear trails of salty tears. Another sharp pang bolted through him, worry and concern nearly stalling his heart and he reach out to tug on the blanket, amber eyes at a loss.
"Winry?" he whispered, voice soft in the silence of the tent, tugging harder on the material in his hand when the girl wouldn't let it go and the worry blazed hotter when she didn't acknowledge him. Still the bright rain trickled down over her fine features, "Winry? Are you okay?" he pulled harder, the blanket finally coming free and those wide eyes turned to him, slowly, as if the girl was seeing nightmares flitting across the clear surface of her corneas. He blinked at the raw emotion he found there, the continuous well of glittering tears catching him up and making him feel more helpless then he had felt all day.
They stayed like that for a long moment, his fatigue forgotten in the wake of his friend's pain, amber caught by shadowed blue. He couldn't decipher the thoughts behind the emotion, or what it might mean, the lack of words between them chafing against his skin. Then Winry stretched out, lifting herself into a sitting position, hair falling over one shoulder and now his breath caught for another reason entirely. The Major was frozen on the spot as her feet touched the ground, intent shielded in the eyes the color of an afternoon sky, the flow of tears slowing, dripping over full lips, catching in the seam and he watched the progression as the little drop relinquished its hold on the edge of the finely tapered chin.
"Al…" her voice was broken, trembling with the weight of the reason for her tears. Then the bright eyebrows knitted harshly and he was once again rendered motionless when the girl slid from the edge of the cot to wrap her arms around his neck, drawing him close. Winry's long, slender legs slipped around his waist, forcing him to sit on the ground or be tipped over backwards until she was straddling his lap, curling into his body as she pressed a wet, salty cheek to his shoulder.
"Win," he breathed, heart pounding in his chest, barely daring to lift his arms and slide his fingers into the abundance of thick, sun bright hair that he had dreamed of for so long, "Winry, what happened?" ah, her hair felt like silk, as tangled as it was and he couldn't help it when he pulled her closer to his chest, arms tightening around her slender back, breathing in the scent of golden light and oil from mechanics. Then there were hands in his own hair and thighs around his hips tightened like a vise, sending a bolt of fire whipping through him, taking him by surprise. The words spoken next, in a voice broken and thick with tears had the air solidifying in his lungs, time screeching to a halt.
"Al…Alphonse, I love you…I love you," soft lips brushed against the side of his neck but he barely felt it. He was too busy trying to make his brain start working again because he was sure Winry had just said she loved him. Just like that. When his brain caught up to his thundering pulse, he realized he wasn't breathing and his eyes were about to bug out of his head. Because she loved him; had said the words he had dreamed about hearing for years and he couldn't even return them for the ache brought on by an emotion he had never experienced before blocking his throat.
There was a pause in which the silence seemed to become heavier with each passing second and he knew he needed to say something but he was still processing what his reality had just become; bright blue eyes and long blond hair and a smile that lit up the darkest room. Finally Winry shifted, pulled back so she could see his eyes. He had no idea what she found there but a small smile curled at the corners of her mouth, even while a dusky flush was working its way over smooth cheeks. With that little expression, he was released, the ice ceasing up his motor functions cracking and he leaned in, pressing his forehead to the girl's, thumb sweeping away cool tears from her chin.
"Winry…" and he couldn't withstand the swell of warmth that was suddenly surging through him so he closed his eyes and clutched her tightly, listening to her breathe, to the soft laugh at his reaction, knowing nothing but starry light that accompanied the vibrant joy cresting over him in waves. Heat seared him through their connection all along the front of their bodies, sweet, soft curves pressed against him and he forgot how tired he had been, how helpless he had felt, how the shadows had been clinging to the edges of his vision because of the joy that was leaking into his veins, until he was sure he was glowing. Amber fluttered open again when warm breath ghosted over the bridge of his nose, achingly hot and clashed with the color of sapphires.
Just a little tilt of his head, a gentle coax from his hand still tangled in golden hair much like his own and finally, finally he tasted bliss. Her lips were incredibly soft, the contact jarring through his system as a million lights fizzed away from the place he was connected with the blond mechanic. So soft and warm and he pressed in closer, harder, wanting to feel nothing but her lips sliding against his own, her hands tightening their grip in his hair, her body pressed against his own. He caught a hint of salt from the girl's tears against his own lips and he wished he would cry them for her. Breath became unsteady as there was a ball of bright fire burning away within him and he moved his mouth against hers, alight with the slick feel of their kiss.
Winry pulled away to snatch a breath of air but he wanted more, wanted to taste, to seep inside of her so he dragged her back, catching a flash of blue when he lifted his eyelids before they were pressed together again, her sweet breath trickling into his mouth when he parted his lips, intent on breaching the hot mouth under his own. One swipe of his tongue and with a small noise of surprise, a whole world was opened to him, soft lips parting so he could dive in, Winry's taste exploding in his mouth. It was sweet, achingly so but there was a tang, something he didn't recognize, reminding him of bitter tears. Slow, sweeping licks found as much of that flavor as he could, running over the backs of clean, straight teeth, the inside of one cheek before rubbing with the slick muscle, wet slide of their tongues shooting waves of heated desire down his spine.
When air became imperative, he opened his eyes to find she had begun to cry again, crystalline tears trailing down the golden skin of her cheeks. But they flowed past the smile that beamed up at him and he just wiped them away with the back of one of his hands that looked too big against the blond mechanic's delicate frame. She caught his wrist and pressed her lips to his finger tips, grief still spilling over his skin.
"I love you too, Winry," he whispered, pulling her close again and warm, damp cheeks were pressed against his neck. Hands wove into the front of his uniform and he contemplated a long strand of hair as he wrapped it around his fingers, "You tasted like metal," he breathed into her hair, thinking it was the most wonderful taste in the world but then his heart was aching again when she sniffed softly and the grip of her legs around his waist once again tightened, pulling them together entirely, not a breath between them.
"You taste like blood…" it was said with a small sob and just like that, he understood. She had already seen the nightmare their world had become and it was already starting to affect her. Amber eyes shuttered in the dimming light, dirty blond head falling to a slender shoulder and the tall teenage alchemist shook under the gentle, sweeping strokes of a hand on his head, the closeness suddenly almost too much, "Do you mind…if…if I stay here tonight?" the soft, bright voice was less than a breath and he barely caught it. Al sat up again and tried to offer a smile but it fell flat. Just like that, the day came crashing back over him, reminding him of the nightmares waiting to claim him as soon as he closed his eyes and he realized he couldn't face the night alone.
So he untangled himself from the girl that he had known almost his whole life, loved for almost as long and lifted her onto the cot before curling himself around her slender form, warm, slim back pressed into his chest. The day would come much too soon, bright light slamming him back to a reality of blood and fear but he had this now and it was a little sliver of perfection. His nose pressed into bright golden hair, his arm wrapped around the curve of a graceful waist, surrounding her with warmth, surrounded by a still peace and when the nightmares came, he was ready for them.
To be continued...
Never fear, I promised you a lemon didn't I? Well, just click on the next chapter!!