A/N: I'm sorry this took so long - this chapter was harder to write than I expected, and I didn't plan for it. *sigh* Anyway!
Thanks and cookies to: Boop, Kazaru13, Dark Cat Food Lover, nisemono96, The John Johnson, SherryPin, VictiniBFF, zebrastripes150802, Random 1, and one guest for reviewing.
Title: Foundations
Author: liketolaugh
Rating: T
Pairings: None
Genre: Angst/Adventure
Warnings: AU
Summary: If Edward was one thing, he was fire. But if he wasn't careful, he was going to burn himself out. Or, Edward Elric is a mutant, Mustang disapproves of him almost burning down the office, and the Xavier Institute is wary of military operatives no matter how old they are.
Disclaimer: If I owned Fullmetal Alchemist or the X-Men, would I really be here right now?
No one in Mustang's office had said a word, Ed was sure of it. They were far too loyal and they liked him and Al far too much. All the same, word of Ed's mutation had spread with a speed not seen since Ed had taken the State Alchemist exam. By the next evening, everyone from the Fuhrer in Central to the lady at the front desk knew.
Arrangements for Ed's departure were made in record time, and Saturday morning found Ed just outside East Command, gathered together with those who were seeing him off. To his surprise, there were far more than he'd expected.
Al was there, of course, sticking close to his big brother, fretting, large metal shoulders hunched with worry as he checked and double checked that yes, Ed had his bags, and yes, he would be good.
The office, too, was there, and Ed wasn't that surprised, really. Mustang scanned the skies with narrowed navy eyes, and Hawkeye scanned the ground, keeping a lookout, as always. Havoc scratched his head, a cigarette perched in his mouth, looking uncomfortable and unsure of what to do with himself. Breda was eating – big surprise there. He leaned against a pole looking wholly unconcerned, but his gaze flickered in a manner that gave the game away. Falman stood straight, speaking quietly with Fuery, who looked slightly anxious, glancing with some worry at Ed. Ed looked back expectantly, and he flushed and looked away again.
To Ed's surprise (which exasperated Al – he'd told Ed, hadn't he?), the office hadn't actually minded at all, once they'd had time to get used to the idea. Havoc, having had no idea what a mutant was before six months ago, had very few preconceived notions, and even fewer prejudices. Falman cited several papers which suggested that mutants were actually the next step in human evolution, and Breda just shrugged and snorted at him.
In addition to them, Major Armstrong was also hovering, looking large and sparkling, though perhaps a little duller than usual with the mood permeating the group – it was hard to forget why they were there, and both he and Hawkeye had been in his place before, if with substantially less generally hazardous powers. Hughes wasn't there, but he'd sent his well wishes the day before, promising that he'd save the best pictures to show Ed when he returned.
Strangely, Ed wasn't reassured.
Eventually, a dot appeared on the horizon, and soon, it manifested itself into a large, black jet. Ed's eyes widened slightly, gold eyes tracking it with a hint of wonder.
Amestris' self-imposed isolationism had had a number of consequences; quite aside from minimal trade of essentials such as food and goods, its technology was years behind other countries', aside from the most important of technology. Ed knew, for example, that each military base had three computers, five in Central, and that each of the largest libraries had one as well.
There was also exactly one, little-used airport on the outskirts of Central, and Ed himself had never actually seen an airplane, there having never been one taking off or landing during his few visits to the capital city.
Beside him, Al let out a soft, awed sound of wonder, and Ed tipped his head to grin at him. The other soldiers had stood up straight, and they, too, were watching the steadily approaching airplane.
Finally, the stealth-black jet touched down in front of them, and the side opened up. A man with brown hair and dark sunglasses stepped out of it, head turning slightly as his gaze ran over them. Finally, he said aloud, voice clear and carefully neutral (which Ed thought said more than a tone ever could),
"Major Edward Elric?"
Ed's grin dropped slightly, and his head followed, gaze moving from Al to the man. "Yeah," he said with deliberate confidence, striding forward, reaching to his feet and slinging his black duffle bag – stuffed full of clothes and books and one spare leg, among other things – over one shoulder.
A surprised expression crossed the man's face, just for a moment, and was swiftly followed by a resigned, wary one – one Ed recognized from his early days as a 'dog of the military', before he was 'the Hero of the People'.
Still, the man moved to meet him, holding out one hand. Ed suspected that, behind those sunglasses, his eyes were studying Ed, measuring him carefully. That was okay. Mustang did the same thing, before.
"Scott Summers," he returned finally, shaking Ed's hand. "I'm the headmaster of the Xavier Institute." He nodded to the group. "Ready to say goodbye?"
"Yeah," Ed muttered, letting go. He turned and smiled wanly at the others. "Well, I guess it's time to go."
"Yep," Havoc agreed easily. "See ya, boss."
"We'll miss your noise," Breda added with a smirk. "Try to grow some while you're gone, yeah?"
Ed scowled at him darkly. "Who are you calling short?" he demanded, bristling slightly. Breda looked vaguely disappointed at the mild response.
"Good luck, Major," Falman put in, with Fuery nodding in agreement.
"Stay safe," Hawkeye ordered. Ed smiled a little at that, too.
"Be cautious, Edward Elric," Armstrong added, booming voice toned down to the Major's idea of an undertone. "It would not do for you to come to harm."
Ed grinned a little. "Right," he agreed readily enough. He reached and shook Armstrong's hand before Mustang's landed on his shoulder, leaving him to look up at the man with some confusion.
Mustang smiled at him slightly, a smirk on his mouth and a hint of concern in his eyes. "Well, Fullmetal, I suppose this is goodbye for now." He shook his head. "You really are a most troublesome subordinate." Ed scowled at him. Mustang's smirk widened. "Get yourself under control, understood? I want you back here within a year."
Ed gave him a considering look before smirking. "No problem, Colonel Bastard."
Mustang sighed dramatically at the name, but forged bravely on. "Don't forget, your assessment is in October. We'll have to send someone to give it to you if you aren't back by then." Here, he grumbled something about paperwork with a depressed look, making Edward snicker at him mercilessly. "And make sure you don't get lost. We're not sure how good they are at finding little people-"
"Who're you calling little?" Ed demanded, scowling at him. Mustang smirked.
"Oh, and-" Quietly, Mustang pulled a folder out of his jacket and gave it to Ed, who looked at it confusedly. In an undertone – a genuine undertone – he continued, "A mission, while you're there. Don't mess up, Fullmetal." He smirked. "It reflects badly on me."
Ed scowled at him again. "Egomaniac," he complained aloud. Backing away slightly and tucking the folder into his own coat, he added, "See ya, Colonel."
Mustang nodded at him, and Ed turned away, facing Al, who was looking at him, shoulders hunched and head dipped in that way that Ed knew always meant that Al was sad about something.
Ed offered his little brother a slight, reassuring smile. "This is it, little brother. It'll be a while before we see each other again." Regret tinged his tone, hand not holding his bag stuffed in his pocket.
"Yeah," Al agreed, subdued. Scott started visibly at Al's high, twelve-year-old voice. He perked up slightly. "I'm going to try and get a civilian visa, though. I know it's really hard-"
"Understatement," Havoc muttered. Ed wondered where he'd learned that.
"-but I think it would be worth it, especially if this is going to take a year, right, brother?"
"Right," Ed confirmed, smiling at Al. "And I promise I won't stop looking, okay? There's not a lot of information on alchemy on the outside, but I can check out a few other routes."
"OK," Al agreed, voice a little brighter. Then, sincerely, "I'll miss you, brother."
Ed shuffled his feet slightly, scuffing one foot across the ground. "I'll miss you, too, Al." He looked up, grinned, and rapped his little brother on the chest. "Take care of Winry and Granny for me, alright, Al?"
"I will," Al promised. "And be nice, okay?"
Ed rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yeah, yeah."
Ed smiled at Al, and Ed knew that if he could, Al would be smiling back.
Then, decisively, he turned on his heel and walked away from them, toward the jet.
"Ready," he offered to Scott, who nodded at him and then indicated for him to go first.
Ed walked on to the jet and looked back just once, waving at the group on the ground, and Al waved enthusiastically back. The two brothers waved at each other – much to the adults' amusement – right up until the huge door shut, cutting them off.
Ed sighed and dropped his arm, turning around to find Scott at the front, messing with some switches and buttons Ed was distinctly unfamiliar with.
He walked forward, looking back and forth with some curiosity, and then dropped down into a seat with a sigh, bag falling to the floor.
"So what's this?" he asked Scott, looking down at the floor, one hand drifting up to feel the folder crinkle slightly under his fingers.
"The Blackbird," Scott answered tersely, flicking another switch. "Professor Xavier's personal jet, you could say."
Ed 'hm'ed. "How's it work?"
Scott glanced back, just a flash of sunglasses before he looked back to the front. "It's not important. It's more than a little complicated."
Ed nearly snapped that he could handle complicated – he wasn't called a prodigy for nothing – but Al's voice echoed in his ears (Brother, please be nice!) and he sighed again. "Yeah, alright," he muttered, as much to Al as to Scott.
Silence consumed the jet, oppressive and awkward. Ed shifted slightly, scarcely-controlled heat roiling discontentedly under his skin, and turned his head to look out the window.
After a time, Scott coughed, shattering the silence but not the tension. "So… Fullmetal, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Heavy name." A brief pause. Ed noted that he seemed tense and winced. Yeah. Definitely one of those. "So, uh, what made you decide to join the military?"
"Personal things," Ed hedged, about as comfortable as the pilot.
Scott 'huh'ed at him, but he even he couldn't really do anything with that. A few seconds passed, and then he tried, "What kind of work do you do?"
"It varies," Ed mumbled, very much wanting out of this conversation. He hunched over a little, boring a hole into the window. "A lot of what I do isn't assigned by the military. They give me a pretty free reign."
"Mm."
Normally, Scott would ask a kid about school for conversation, but he was pretty sure that Ed didn't go to school – a job, especially a military one, wouldn't leave time for that. The problem was that that left very few open topics for conversation. Hence their current… situation.
"Who were the people you said goodbye to?" Scott tried again.
Ed hunched over a little more. "The office," he mumbled. "The Major. My little brother."
"Not your parents?" Too late, Scott realized that that had all the makings of a bad question.
"Mom's dead and my father's a bastard."
Scott gave up.
An hour and a half passed in deeply uncomfortable silence before the crinkling of paper sliced through the silence, loud in the enclosed space, and Scott glanced back to see Edward opening a thin folder, bored eyes scanning its contents halfheartedly. His heart dropped.
"So, uh… what's that?" he asked, as casually as he could manage.
Edward shrugged, closing the folder again and putting it away. "Assignment," he said noncommitally.
Ed didn't much like talking about the assignments he was given, especially the ones that weren't leads. If he had his way, he wouldn't do them, but he knew that really, there had been very little chance of not being given an assignment on this trip.
It was an opportunity the military just couldn't pass up.
Though in code – all State Alchemist assignments were – Ed could read it almost like it was written straight, he was so used to it by now. (Or maybe those were his habits as an alchemist coming through – the State code had nothing on his personal one.) Roughly translated, it was a research assignment: to figure out how mutant abilities were alchemically possible.
It was signed by the Fuhrer.
Ed sighed and looked out the window, peeking down at the clouds below them, an endless field of fluffy white. Arrays – to make clouds from water vapor, to make rainclouds from regular clouds, to disperse clouds into the surrounding air, anything – ran absently through his mind, a side effect of his trip through the Gate.
The Gate had irrevocably changed the way he saw things, the way he saw everything. Alchemy, once his passion, became a part of himself, inseparable from his personality or his instincts.
The same as that, his mutation had changed him. He knew he'd always been a little too bright – in more ways than one – and too hot-tempered for his own good, but after his mutation awoke, it magnified, exacerbating little quirks into huge, glaring traits.
Edward knew better than anyone, save Alphonse and maybe the Rockbells, that he'd changed after the transmutation, he didn't need to be told. He wasn't sure it was for the better, either – but then again, he'd never again do anything so monumentally stupid.
He sighed, a low, soft sound that had Scott glancing over at him for a brief moment before he returned his attention the controls that Ed was so curious about.
Ed was getting better about knowing what he could and couldn't handle, but not by much. Still, he'd have liked to have been able to control his own ability.
Fire mimicry. That was for sure, Ed thought bitterly. Harder to control for the fact that it was more than just a power, it was a trait in and of itself, spilling over from 'ability' into himself the same way alchemy had. Not only that, but it was a constant presence in him.
Edward Elric had once been a boy with a hot temper and gold eyes and that was it. That was all. Now he had a fire in his heart and arrays at his fingertips to go with it, and he was something more than he had ever wanted to be.
He huffed and leaned his head against the window, letting his eyes fall shut. But there was nothing he could do about it – he just had to push past it, push past everything. There was no getting their old life back, but if he tried, if he just tried hard enough- he could make sure Al got something close to it. Not the same, never again, but close enough.
And that would be good enough for Ed.
Without meaning to, Ed fell asleep.
It took a few more hours of Scott debating with himself, but finally, he sighed, set the Blackbird to autopilot, and stood up, striding toward the sleeping boy and picking up the abandoned folder, anxiety niggling at him insistently.
Anxiety that only magnified when his eyes fell upon… an overdue tax notice.
The assignment was coded.
Scott's frown deepened, he closed the folder again, and turned away, heading back for the controls and settling at them, willing himself deliberately not to look back to Ed.
They'd need to watch him.
Ed woke up just as they touched down, and Scott nodded at him shortly before leading him off the jet, leaving Ed to sweep his bag back up and follow.
He looked around, gold eyes wide with startlement and a little, excited smile on his face, taking in the huge mansion that was Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
People scurried about, some intent on their destination, a few carrying papers, others absorbed in conversation with the people beside them. Some hovered around the grounds, clustered in little groups engaged in avid conversation, and one or two were stationed in place, reading or drawing.
"This way, Fullmetal," Scott said, drawing Ed's attention back to him. "You need to meet with Professor Xavier before you do anything else."
Ed nodded and followed the man, going back to looking around.
It wasn't a bad place, really. Ed spotted a library out of the corner of his eye – not of a bad size, either – and wondered if there were any worthwhile avenues of investigation on the outside. It was definitely worth considering.
Well, if Ed had to get help – which he hated doing, by the way, screw you, mutant power – he supposed that there were worse places.
Down the marble hallway, around more corners than Edward cared to count, and finally, Scott stopped before a door and knocked.
"Professor, I have Fullmetal."
Within moments, a voice, soft and pensive, answered. "Very well, send him in."
Scott nodded to Ed, who nodded back, shifting uncomfortably, reached out, turned the doorknob, and entered, while Scott lingered just outside.
Inside, the man who must have been Charles Xavier was already looking at him, gaze steady, mouth pulled in a taut, but slight, frown, hands intertwined and in his lap as he sat in his wheelchair, tension visible in the line of his shoulders and caution in the shadow of his eyes.
Still, that in no way detracted from the courtesy in his voice as the man greeted, "Edward Elric. Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."
Ed straightened up slightly and offered a small smile. "Thanks."
He could get used to being here, Ed told himself. People would warm up to him eventually, he would get everything done that he needed to here, and everything would be fine. Just fine.
"Edward." Edward glanced back up to Professor Xavier, not having realized that he'd dropped his gaze. "I wish you to have a good time here, but I must remind you of a few things before I send you off." Ed nodded, looking at him expectantly. "This is both a school and a sanctuary. As such, I would remind you that you must conduct yourself as such. The safety of my students, you understand, is my top priority."
Oh.
Ed looked away, unable to keep his fists from clenching slightly as the hope that had come when he knew that he was going to get help with his – problem – started to trickle and spin, as if down a drain. "Yeah, okay," he muttered. He got his drift, alright.
Xavier smiled. It did nothing to soften the sting of his words. "Thank you, Edward. You may go."
Ed nodded, still not looking at him, and turned, pushing his way roughly out the door.
Whatever. He just had to get this done fast, was all. In and out. A rudimentary search of the library would tell him if there was anything worth looking into concerning getting Al's body back, then maybe a week or two to figure out about mutant powers, if he tried hard. After that, he'd be free as soon as he got a handle on his own powers.
That was it.
As Scott led Ed down the hall again, Ed's bad temper danced across his face, and he was more acutely aware of the flames surging in his chest than he had been since he'd caught fire in – and to – the Colonel's office. It seemed that Scott could tell, too, because he was even more quiet and cautious than he had been thus far.
Finally, he stopped in front of a door and nodded at Ed. "This'll be your room, Fullmetal. John, your roommate, is a fire user as well, so it's already fireproof."
Ed nodded and pushed the door open. Scott followed him in and a boy inside, leaning back on his bed, halfheartedly reading a book, looked up with a raised eyebrow and then said irritably, "Who the hell's that?"
Ed instinctively scowled back, one fist clenching, automail tightening around the strap of his duffle bag. Before he could snap at the other boy, though, Scott answered,
"John, this is Edward Elric. He's a new student from Amestris, and he'll be staying with you for the time being." His voice lowered slightly as he continued, dusty dry like a hot desert, "He's also a part of their military, so please try not to cause an international incident."
Both John and Ed scowled at him for that one, but Scott just pulled out a timetable and gave it to Ed. "This is your timetable while you're here. Normally, you wouldn't have classes on a Saturday, but you need to take placement tests to determine if you're up to standard, seeing as you've been… occupied."
Ed refrained from snarking at the headmaster and instead nodded, taking the timetable without a word (if he said anything, he wasn't sure he could stick to Al's request). He scanned it quickly, dropping his bag on the second, clearly unused bed.
Scott turned to leave and nodded to them both, but if he said anything as he left, Ed didn't hear it.
Honestly, if there was one thing Ed didn't want to do right now, it was go take tests. Despite having slept for a good deal of the way there, he was tired, and just generally wanted nothing more than to go to sleep right then and there.
But, as usual, there was work to be done first.
"So. Military, huh?"
The sneer in John's voice was unmistakeable, matching the one Pinako had once held in her own, before Ed had joined, and Ed barely spared him a glance up as he resigned himself to his fate. "That's right. Just over a year now. That a problem?" Meeting challenge for challenge.
John just snorted, derisive, and slumped back again, going back to scanning the pages. "Nah. Don't have time for assholes."
"Neither do I," Ed snapped back, so done with these people and their assumptions and the utter crap that accompanied them. He turned and stamped out, intent on finding the first class, Chemistry. Under his breath, he added, "And this place just has too damn many of them."
After some fair amount of searching, he found it, and the teacher nodded at him with a forced, small smile (not again) and handed him his test.
To his surprise – he had been out of conventional schooling for years now, after all – the test was beyond easy, not even requiring half a moment's thought from question to question. He finished it within half an hour and handed it back.
English was harder; the skills and information on the test weren't exactly things he used on a regular basis, unlike Chemistry, so he found himself drawing from every reference to them he could recall being mentioned in passing, whether by Pinako or Mustang or Izumi, or anyone else, for that matter.
Come lunchtime, he hadn't had any time to meet anyone, so he got his lunch without a word and found himself sitting alone. He didn't mind so much, or rather, he wouldn't have, had word of him and his apparently dubious origins not clearly spread far and wide, inducing more whispering than Ed cared for.
He ignored it the best he could, but the sinking feeling in his gut was harder to push back, and he felt feverish, fire becoming a real threat if he couldn't calm the hell down soon.
After lunch came more tests, some of which were painfully easy, and others, like History, a bit harder. Nothing some reading wouldn't clear up, Ed supposed, but also not worth his time, not when he had other things he needed to do.
It was past four by the time he finished all of them and Ed was exhausted, but of course, there would be none of that, not yet; the moment he walked out of the last classroom, yawning, he heard,
"Edward."
He started slightly, fire flashing across his face and disappearing again almost too fast to see, and turned his head to see a woman striding toward him, with white hair and a businesslike look. "Yeah?" he asked cautiously.
She stopped in front of him and stood confidently, comfortable in her own skin. He tipped his head back slightly to look at her as she said crisply, "Call me Storm. The Professor asked me to be the one to help you with your ability, as we don't have a fire mutant on staff at the moment."
He blinked for a moment, stifled a yawn, and nodded. "Alright." He tipped his head at her curiously. "What can you do?"
She smiled slightly, turning on her heel and walking away, an unspoken order to 'follow' in her wake. "I control the weather," she explained. "Anything from rainclouds or wind to lightning."
He smiled a little, too. "That's cool," he told her honestly. "All I can do is set myself on fire."
She smiled wryly. "That's an interesting way of putting it."
He shrugged, muffling another yawn. "So what are we doing?"
"We're going to one of the training rooms," Storm explained, turning a corner. "The mansion has several of them set up, for obvious reasons, with various degrees and types of reinforcements. For instance, I learned to control my powers in a room where everything was fastened down and waterproof. On the other hand, everything in the room you'll be using is inflammable."
He 'huh'ed thoughtfully. "That makes sense."
"We won't be working on control today," she added. "Right now, we're just going to go over what you know so far." She opened a door. "Here we are."
Ed followed her into the room and looked around. It was well lit, colored a soft, warm orange, more of a sunset color than a creamy one. A few tables were set up with various metal implements, and nearly everything he saw was either metal or stone, nothing that would catch fire or melt easily.
Storm sat him down at one of the tables, taking a seat across from him. "So, Edward. Do you have any idea of how your powers work, on a technical scale?"
Ed stifled yet another yawn and thought for a moment. He'd actually contemplated this quite a few times; it had intrigued his scientist side ever since the ability had popped up. "If I had to guess, the mutant gene gives me the ability to increase my temperature until it spills over, when my mass is temporarily converted into thermal energy given partially solid form, somewhere between real mass and real energy. When I deactivate my power, it converts back like nothing ever happened." After a pause, he added, "I'm also immune to burns, even when I'm like this."
And a good thing too, or else his automail would burn him badly every time he cooled down from that state. And that would suck.
She blinked, once, and then laughed lightly. "Oh, that's right. You're an alchemist, aren't you?"
If there was a brittle undertone to her voice, well, Ed wasn't about to mention it. Instead, he nodded, looking at her expectantly.
She sighed. "Well, I'll admit that's more than I expected. Now, there's just one more thing before I'll let you go. Care to demonstrate?"
He nodded, having expected that, and stood up from his chair, pushing away from it with some reluctance and moving closer to the middle of the room. He turned to face her, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for one, two, three…
He exhaled, and fire bloomed from his chest, warmth encasing him and flooding his entire body, turning feverish heat to something more like a very warm day, and with the struggle to repress it released, excited energy buzzed along his limbs and set his mind to work.
See, the thing people didn't get was that Ed liked being on fire. It was a feeling second only to the rush of alchemy – in fact, Ed would have to say that it was remarkably similar. He just didn't like it when he accidentally caused damage when in this state, which happened on a fairly consistent basis.
An interested 'mm' drew his attention back to Storm, who looked him up and down thoughtfully. The happy rush faded quickly as her gaze lingered on his right arm and left leg – despite both being concealed, the fact that no fire flickered out from beneath his clothes there was blatantly obvious, and he scowled at her. She asked anyway.
"Edward, what's wrong with your arm and leg?"
Ed scowled hard at her and crossed his arms. "None of your damn business," he snarled, head jerking away. They disliked him enough, he didn't need any more of their crap because of anything more.
He was tired, he was grumpy, and he wanted nothing more to do with any of them, not today and, if it wasn't so strictly necessary, not ever.
Storm was undeterred. "Is there some sort of block?"
"None of your damn business!" Ed repeated, trying not to stomp his foot. Despite himself, the orange of his fire lightened, intensity increasing with his temper.
Storm saw it, of course, and thankfully, she let it go – for now. Ed wasn't fool enough to think she wouldn't go back to it later, especially since she was clearly under the impression that it was a psychological problem.
Which it wasn't.
Dammit.
Ed forced himself to look back to her as she sighed again and conceded, "I think that's enough for today, but-" Of course there was a but. "-we'll be getting back to that later." And of course that was it. "For now, I want you to put yourself back out." Heh, so she was going with his chosen terminology, then.
Ed took a deep breath, both forcing himself to calm down and suffocating his fire, which was not his favorite way of doing this (admittedly, his favorite way of doing this was to let himself burn out, which took hours). But, nonetheless, after a few minutes, it flickered and died, and he solidified back into his natural fleshy form. She nodded at him.
"Good."
He huffed slightly, the tension back around his chest, and turned and left, completely unable to get away fast enough, anger not yet gone.
John was in the room when he returned, flicking a lighter absently, but he turned a moody glare on Ed the moment he entered the room. He didn't say anything, just glared, and Ed scowled back as he went to his duffle bag and snatched out a set of pajamas (complete with socks, seeing as he didn't want to get roped into explaining his automail) and the cordless phone that was in the room. Then he turned toward the bathroom, and if he thought he was going to escape comment, he was wrong.
"What, afraid to change in front of other people?"
Ed snarled at him silently and slammed the door behind him, entering the dual-sink bathroom (which contained one shower) in a huff. He showered quickly and skipped his maintenance, instead going straight for the phone and dialling a number he knew by heart.
"Rockbell Automail, Winry speaking."
"Hey, Winry," he said, unable to hide the restlessness in his tone. "Can I talk to Al?"
"Oh, I see how it is," she huffed, but she seemed to hear something in his tone and passed him off to Alphonse quickly enough, which at the moment was all Ed cared about. (He'd probably be paying for that later, though.)
"Brother!" Al's voice was familiar and pleased. "That was fast. I thought you'd be busy."
The tension fled from Ed's body and he slid to the ground, leaning against the wall tiredly. "Yeah, well…" Okay, he had nothing. Well, nothing that wouldn't worry Alphonse. "You got to the Rockbells alright, then?"
"Yeah," Al agreed easily. "What about you, brother? Did your journey go well?"
Yep. Hours with a person who had something-or-other against the military. It went great. "Well enough."
Ed and Al talked back and forth for easily half an hour before Ed decided that yes, he really did have to go, John's banging on the door was getting irritating. They said their goodbyes and he passed by his none-too-friendly roommate without a second glance or an ounce of regret, and the door slammed behind the other boy as Ed collapsed into bed, sighing and lifting his gaze to the ceiling.
Yeah, it was going great.
So this takes place about four years before the first X-Men movie, and also I don't normally work in that universe so feel free to correct me if something's wrong. This was actually supposed to cover a little more than it did, but it was getting a little, ehm, long. As in, this is maybe a little over a third of what I had planned for the chapter. But. Anyway. Please review!