Purpose
Al sits, squirming unconsciously, on the hard cracked-leather chair, and wonders whether it is humanly possible to feel any less comfortable. He knows without looking at himself that he is shrinking visibly beneath the close scrutiny of the man in front of him, as if the analytical, frank gaze is withering him. The man appears to be enjoying Al's discomfort, too, sitting at ease in his vast armchair, resting his clasped hands on the enormous heavy desk in front of him, and silently observing him through dark narrowed eyes.
Al is unable to see the point in this. He has been summoned here for a "discussion- an interview, if you will", but so far it has seemed like nothing more than an over-glorified staring contest, which he himself is most definitely losing.
Eventually the examination comes to an end, and the man looks casually aside, turning his disinterested gaze to a lone sheet of paper lying on the desk, picking it up and scanning it with a mildly bored expression.
Al is beginning to feel rather aggravated by this behaviour. Roy Mustang seems to have become still more confident and annoyingly full of himself since his most recent promotion- and his fondness of making others feel uncomfortable has evidently remained just as strong over the years.
After a few more minutes of silence- during which Al gradually slides still further down in his chair in a vain attempt to escape from the smug sense of satisfaction that wafts across the desk towards him, clearly indicating how much fun the other party is having at the expense of his integrity- the Flame Alchemist finally decides to speak.
"So then, young Elric. Your brother tells me you've been seeing Miss Rockbell."
Al almost falls out of his chair. Of all the things Mustang could have said, he had not expected that.
Once his incoherent stuttering has slowed a little, Mustang raises a sculpted eyebrow and looks questioningly at him.
Al realises at last that the man is waiting for a response. However, he doesn't feel quite able to string together a sentence with all the words in the correct order just yet, so he closes his mouth and merely nods.
"Charming thing. How long has it been now?"
When Al gets his answer out, Mustang looks vaguely surprised. "That long? Tell your brother to be more punctual with his news bulletins next time, will you?"
"Y- yes," Al manages. He wonders whether he should add, sir.
"Ah well, too late now, after all. How are you two then?"
"Good," Al says warily. He doesn't trust the man one tiny bit. The more innocent Mustang appears on the outside, the more schemes and ploys are simmering and brewing beneath his neat sharp crop of hair- still without a single grey, despite his age.
"Did you hear of my promotion? And-"
"Yes. Congratulations."
Mustang bobs his head, smiling. The smile unnerves Al still further. It only serves to convince him that something is going on- some sort of plot that he is unaware of.
"How are you finding your new home?"
"It's nice. Smaller than it looks. Close to Granny- we visit sometimes."
"Your careers?"
"Winry's doing very well. She's sort of famous in the industry."
"Life's going well?"
"I'd say it is."
"Do you love her?"
There it is.
Al goes scarlet- not so much from embarrassment as from the abrupt nature of the question. He had seen something coming a mile off, had known all along that Mustang's friendly, detached questions were nothing more than a front, a way to disguise the important, and in all likelihood much more personal, questions that were coming. Al had thought himself to be one step ahead, to be able to work that out. But he never would have expected that question to fall out of Roy Mustang's mouth.
That mouth, having performed its primary function, is closed now, and its owner observes him evenly. He fights to keep control of himself. Mustang will just love it if the question makes him flustered again. The older man has always gained an immense amount of entertainment from placing Ed on the spot and watching him squirm; and it seems now that for him, either Elric will suffice for this purpose.
So Al straightens his expression out hastily, and when he replies his voice is perfectly steady. "Of course. I love her in a way I didn't even think was possible. I can't imagine living without her."
Mustang obviously feels a bit discomfited, but does his best not to show it. "Good grief, already? I remember, when I was your age, it was parties every night and a different girl-"
"- as your date for each one," Al finishes for him. He's heard this before: namely, when flushing, breathless Fletcher Tringham made the mistake of travelling to Risembool to inform them of his recent engagement, shortly after reaching his second decade of age. Mustang had spluttered in horror down the telephone upon receiving this news from the Elrics, and had dashed down to their home in person in order to deliver the very same speech to the poor young man, who- having never met the Flame before in his life- was more than a little taken aback.
Al, on the other hand, has an answer in store for this argument.
"But you don't do that anymore- do you?" Artfully, he tinges the words with just the right amount of wide-eyed innocence.
Mustang makes the show of ruminating, but they both know that the statement is correct. He doesn't. Not anymore.
"It's the same for me," Al tells him. "I just got that feeling earlier than you, that's all."
"I could have you arrested for harassing a military official," Mustang mutters, clearly not enjoying the feeling of having been beaten- and yet Al still sees, even now, a smug glint in the other man's eyes. "You really mean it then."
"Yes," Al says, talking more to himself than anyone else by now. "I love her and I want to be with her, and . . . and I'm going to ask her to marry me," he says, not straightforwardly, not defiantly, not even as if forming a decision, but as if suddenly, finally, recognising a truth that has been staring him in the face for years.
Mustang leans leisurely back in his chair and smiles a slow, satisfied smile- and Al realises at last that, incredibly but perfectly reasonably, making him realise that truth is what this entire meeting has been about all along.
Author's notes: MUSTANG!! Look! It's Mustang! 8D I really don't write him often enough.
Why doesn't Mustang talk to Al more in fanfiction, anyway? I mean, sure, Al isn't in the military, but it's not as though that's the only connection the brothers have with Roy. And to be honest, I have the feeling that setting Mustang up against Al in a conversation is far more interesting than when he's set against Ed.
(Special note to Legendary Chimera: Next chapter up will be your commission. I apologise once again for how shamefully long it's taken me to upload it. X.X)