Closer part XII Closer part XII Rating: R Beta'd by toxicbullets (who managed this even ill. The girl is a saint ^^) Disclaimer: I neither own Fullmetal Alchemist nor make any profit from this. Sometimes wish I did on both counts, though. Summary: It's been five whole minutes, so it must be time for an argument. Notes: This chapter was entirely not meant to happen. It's *their* fault (*points at boys*). Idiots. Had to reorganise the entire rest of the plot after this disaster of an attempt to make them do as they're told. Never work with animals, children or lust-addled alchemists, I'll tell you that. Finally, nothing says 'slash' like nineties girl group r'n'b ;) All other parts are in my memories. What's it gonna be? 'Cause I can't pretend . . . Hold me tight and don't let go, Don't let go, Have the right to lose control, Don't let go- - En Vogue, Don't Let Go Ed hadn't forgotten one word of last night, but what he'd actually done hadn't really sunk in yet. He didn't know if maybe he was meant to feel different in some way; all he felt was not particularly sore but just a little bit . . . off, in unusual places. Luckily there was a lot of time waiting for plant goop to change colour and supposedly trying to work out how the blood of an alchemist is different from the blood of a normal human being in which to go over what was said, and over it, and over it again. "Trust me, love." At the time Ed had been understandably distracted by a particular mouth's vicinity to a particular organ, and he hadn't even noticed. Now when he thought about it he wanted to break Mustang's head open. How dare he. How fucking dare he, where did he think he got the right? Ed didn't need or want Mustang's lines, he wasn't one of Mustang's stupid women - and how many of those had he used the exact same words to? The rage was fighting to get out of Ed, thrashing at his insides, but he kept it clamped down deep, pressed his mouth tightly closed and tried to read. He suspected, and hated himself for it, couldn't actually admit it in so many words, that if he let the anger out what would follow would be pain. Better to hold onto the anger, let it burn like a hot, heavy stone on his stomach, better to be angry than to really admit why he was angry. Not how dare Mustang think he needed some patronising endearment, but how dare he say it and not mean it. Al kept giving him funny looks. Not that Al could change his face, but Ed knew a funny look from his little brother when he saw one. He didn't know what expression he was wearing right now. He checked the bulb of thickening plant goop, small bubbles travelling from the spherical glass base and upwards, tried to flatten his face out in his reflection and went back to his book. Think about Al. Think about this. Don't think about him. The fucker. * Roy looked over his lined-up troops and allowed a thin smile onto his face. Breda couldn't pull his stomach to attention, even with the smallest size Fury's uniform was still a little baggy on the shoulders, and Havoc couldn't begin to compete with Falman's ramrod-straight attention pose - only Hawkeye actually looked like a real soldier, poised and still and as steady as a cocked gun. He was so fucking proud of all of them that sometimes he thought the top of his head might blow off. He saluted sharply as the Fuhrer and his retinue entered, and heard the neat click of Hawkeye's boots as she did too, and the almost-simultaneous click of the others joining them. He saw General Hakuro's eyebrows raised a little dubiously at the goon squad behind Roy and thought, That's right, underestimate them. You have no idea. The Fuhrer waved his hand amiably and said, "That's enough, Colonel. Well, what a tidy office. Good job. Well done." Roy kept his face calm as he lowered his salute and wondered again what the man's game was. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating Bradley, but he honestly had no clue how this man was running the country . . . * Maes flicked a stale piece of bread from the arm of the bench to the ducks and said, "I feel like one of us should have an accent of some sort. And you should be carrying a newspaper." Roy sighed, arms folded, sitting back beside Maes. Lunchtime and they'd met in the park, in front of the duck pond, wary of telephones and all military institutions while the Fuhrer was in the East. "We're not spies, Maes." "Nor are we fantastically loyal, though, hm?" Maes said, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I still don't know what he's doing here, or how long he plans to stay. But you'd better watch yourself, Roy." "Of course I plan to be on my best behaviour." Maes was silent for a second. "I really want you to be careful," he murmured, and Roy raised his head, looked with brows lowered at his friend. "I don't know what's happening, but I have a bad feeling about all this." "A bad feeling." Roy said, pitched low and cynical Maes glanced at him, eyes sharp and shielded behind his glasses, and Roy didn't know what he wasn't saying but understood anyway. "I'll be careful. Maes. You know I will." The corner of Maes' mouth quirked into a crooked sort of grin, and he looked across at the pond. "I brought Elysia here last weekend. She fed the ducks." "That's nice." "I remember the first time I brought her here. I could hold her entire head in my palm she was so tiny. Now she comes on her tricycle, and one day she'll be too big for piggybacks." "You're in a strange mood." "I'm feeling nostalgic. And you're in love with Ed." Straight out of nowhere, like everything to do with Ed, and Roy was falling for a second, through the narrow black towards white like a supernova- "No," he said, and the entire world had popped in his ears, had revealed itself rushing and clanging and loud. "Ed-" "Do you know how much happier you'll be if you can just admit it to yourself?" "No," Roy repeated, a little more desperately. His palms were sweating in his gloves, and his mind was full of Ed (against the pillows, trusting and tense and moving with him, head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth open - "Ah- tha- there- ah!"). "Maes-" "I happen to know he spent the night at yours last night. Which you can get away with as long as you let it be known he's using your personal library for research, by the way. But I also know that it's Ed, and you wouldn't be doing this with him if you didn't really feel this." "No, I-" (Ed opening his eyes and laughing, bright and gold and beautiful, rubbing up and down Roy's sides. "Surprisingly easy. Guess you did it right, then.") "Don't you want to be happy?" "It's not important." Roy said, snapped, and was surprised at himself because his voice was shaking. (Ed's nose against his throat, his breath shaking, jumping with laughter and exertion. "That - haa - you -") He gritted his teeth, forced himself steady. "He's fifteen years old, what do you think this is for him?" "I can ask him, if you like." Maes said with a little grin. (Ed's eyelashes brushing closed against his skin, and then so quietly, "Oh . . .") He was angry, now. "Maes," he said, coldly and calmly, "Ed is fifteen. He certainly has a crush and maybe if you asked him he would think it was love. He will change his mind very soon." "And what will you do if he does?" Roy's stomach came up for the third time and drowned. He didn't want to think about this, he could cope with this if he didn't think about it- "I'm sure I'll survive. For god's sake, I lived for over twenty years without Ed, I think I can manage-" "'Manage'. Without him. And you think that will make both of you happy." "It isn't about me being happy. It's . . ." He let his breath out between his clenched teeth. "I don't know what it is. I don't know." "Hoo," Maes let his breath out in a sigh. "You have it bad, Roy." "This isn't funny, Maes." he said bitterly. "Aspects of it really are, actually." "Why do you always have to interfere? This would never have happened if you hadn't-" "This was always going to happen." Maes said calmly. "Maybe not so soon as it did, maybe not in this way, and maybe not this well, Roy. Imagine what could have happened if you'd let it escalate without resolving it." "No-" "You know now there are situations where Ed can't say no to you, and you can never say no to him-" "I would never have-" "At least this means something. You could have just ended up falling on top of each other in the office-" ("- ah!") "Maes-" "- and he wouldn't have known what had hit him, and I would have castrated you for it in the rightful place of any actual parent. If Alphonse didn't get there first." Maes cocked his head at Roy. "At least this way there was some wooing. And if you really think this is just a crush for Ed, you can't have been looking at him properly, Roy." "Don't tell me I'm not looking closely enough. This all started because we both looked too closely." Maes brushed the last of the crumbs from the arm of the bench to the ground and lifted one foot to let a duck waddle past to reach them. "I'm not saying Ed would be a good wife, because I think he's a bit too . . . volatile, actually, and you'd never get him into the wedding dress-" "Maes-" "But don't you want this to be something that could last?" Silence. Maes spread his arms in a what can I do? shrug. "As amusing as I find this whole thing, you do have my sympathies. A homosexual relationship with an underage subordinate. You only need to be related to him to get the whole bag of complications, don't you?" * The plant goop was being difficult. Al restrained his brother from throwing it across the room in a fit of impatient pique...
Mojaunicorn