#Roy you caught him getting his armor on for their next mission

[ghostymarni]

Captain Rex for @jetii <3

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Three AM, Aching and Tender

A Jason Todd x reader oneshot

the title is a bit fucked, but my inspiration ran out, so here we are

warnings for a character getting triggered, and also SMUT

*edited because I added a tag and tumblr decided that meant it could delete the whole fucking post

***

Jason aches.

Aches. All over, everywhere. He aches, and he’s so, so tired. Standing in the dark hallway in front of his apartment door, he can almost feel the exhaustion enveloping him, a physical wave threatening to pull him under as he fights for lucidity. He’s got the achy sort of tired that comes from a mission, a deadening of senses that just spent hours of hyper-alert, of muscles that were overstretched and overused. Half his body seems to be twinging lightly, sending minor flashes of pain that glimmer faintly in his soup-slow brain that’s doing it’s damndest to focus up enough to unlock his fucking flat.

The weariness is so pronounced that he couldn’t be bothered to enter his apartment like a proper vigilante and had walked in the building’s front door. He isn’t too worried, it’s 3:15am and the streets outside are nearly deserted. Besides, Babs has alerts on all CCTV cameras two miles in every direction, she’d scrub the footage if any of them caught the Red Hood waltzing into a building like he lived there.

After digging through his pockets for a few seconds, Jason gets his keys out and unlocks his door, flicking on the living room light. He sets his rucksack on the floor by the kitchen island, running the zipper down and taking out the few sets of dirty clothes from the top of the bag, putting them aside to wash later. He’d packed light for the two-week job with Roy and Kory.

Frustration edges in on the exhaustion lightly fogging his mind as he thinks over the mission itself. The drug sting on Santa Prisca had taken out some major players, but on their way out Roy got hit by some trigger happy idiot. Jason and Kory had had to perform emergency first aid on the helicopter ride off the island. It was touch and go for a bit, but eventually they’d dug the bullets of out his shoulder and thigh, and Kory cauterized the wound with her powers. Jason was taping gauze over her handiwork not twenty minutes ago. Roy will end up with two new scars and nothing more, but it wasn’t exactly how Jason preferred to end his missions.

He sighs, trying to push the days’ events from his mind. Giving himself a shake, he starts stripping down, taking off his helmet and body armor and placing them on the countertop, a tarp he’d laid down keeping his kitchen clean. His guns and miscellaneous other weapons, knives and the occasional batarang, make their way onto the tarp as well. Once he’s down to his pants and undershirt he surveys the counter, wondering what he can get away with just wiping down with disinfectant and what he’s going to have to soak in bleach overnight. As he eyes a particularly grimy blade a noise makes his way out of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to guess at what it is, and sure enough you appear a moment later, wearing an overlarge t shirt and hair mussed from sleep.

He grunts in your direction, mood still black from Roy’s close call. “Hey. You didn’t have to get up.”

“S’okay.” You softly pad over and take a seat on one of the barstools ringing the island. Neither of you say anything for a bit, silence stretching comfortably as you watch him in that even way of yours while he cleans and puts away his gear.

It still makes him pause, seeing you in his kitchen like this. This isn’t the first time you’ve graced his apartment in the early morning hours, kitchen light flickering over your head. You’d stayed over a few times since Jason had started sort-of-dating you a month and a half ago. He had actually handed you the keys when he left for Santa Prisca, you had asked if you could crash at his place while your landlord fumigated your apartment. He knows you’ve been here for two weeks, and you seem comfortable enough in his space, but Jason doesn’t think he’ll get used to moments like these. To having you here, clock ticking low while you huddle up on his barstool, streetlights outside bouncing through the window and shining hazy light on your skin.

In the month and a half that he’s known you, you’ve proven soft and sweet. Can you really fit into the seedy grooves of his life? He’s admiring you while he cleans his fucking guns at three in the morning for chrissakes, do you really belong here? Stills of you in his apartment drift across his brain, he imagines you having breakfast here in the morning, cleaning your teeth in front of his bathroom mirror, laying in his bed with your head resting on his pillow. Can he really have you like this?

Six weeks since Tim introduced you, and Jason still feels uneasy with these moments of quietness stillness, of just being together. He likes spending time with you and he’s happy you’re seeing each other, but Jason feels like he’s missing a trick, here. Something isn’t right. Maybe that’s the problem, not whether you belong in his life at all. It’s that something’s out of place with the two of you, with your relationship, if he can call it that. You text back and forth often enough, you go on dates, you fuck, but something doesn’t sit well with him. Maybe it’s that, for all the time you spend together, neither of you have actually ponied up and admitted some real feelings. It’s almost as though you’re settling into a routine of a long relationship before you’ve put in any of the grunt work, before you’ve run the risk of being vulnerable with each other. The two of you are groping blindly in the dark, hoping the other person feels the same way but never reaching out to confirm it, only to be pleasantly surprised when you bump into each other, wordlessly. It’s setting his teeth on edge, because it’s pretty clear to him that he likes you, and quite a bit more than a lot. He’s not great with emotions, hasn’t been since the pit and even before that, but he’s getting the sense that this thing with you might be starting to brush up against something big. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“How’d the job go?” your voice is a murmur in the dim light. For all his misgivings about whether his life can fit someone like you, you’re still choosing to sit next to his vigilante gear with no comment. On your second date, you had dropped the bomb that you know about his nightlife, and for a split-second Jason had frozen, ready to wallop Tim for clueing you in, or at the very least ignore his calls for a few weeks. Before he could even open his mouth to deny it, you told him you’d figured it out from Tim’s schedule back in college. It didn’t take a genius to make the leap from Tim to Bruce Wayne and his brood.

Jason knows you’re hazy on the details about his death and then non-death, but he isn’t in any hurry to bring you up to speed. He’s quietly grateful that you haven’t pressed.

He sets a gun down, stifling a wince at the sight of blood on the muzzle. You know about his night gig and his methods, sure, but there’s a difference between knowing and seeing blood coating a deadly firearm. A quick glance in your direction reveals that you don’t seem disgusted or repelled at all. He’s not even sure you’ve noticed it, from where he stands it looks like you’re keeping your gaze on him. You’ve drawn your knee up to your chest and are resting your chin on it, eyes wide and open as you wrap your arms around your bent leg.

Jason takes a deep breath, thinking on how to answer your question about the mission. He wants to grunt his way out of this and into the shower so he can wash the day off him, but your sweet concern deserves at least a response. Squeezing his eyes shut, he says “the sting went okay, but on the way out Roy got hit in a few nasty places.” He hears you shift in your seat. “Oh no, is he alright?”

He starts to shrug a bit as he opens his eyes. “He’ll be okay, but performing emergency surgery while under fire was—”

The last word comes out clipped and awkward as Jason catches sight of the shirt you’re wearing. You’d brought your leg down to the chair, leaving your chest open. Now he can see the shirt properly, and his gut sinks as he realizes that it’s his, that it’s one of his old ones from before, one of the ones Dick gifted to him while he was still Robin, while he was still with Bruce. His body turns stiff as his eyes trace the faded Haley’s Circus logo. Jason remembers admiring it every time a teenage Dick Grayson wore it around the manor, remembers admiring the teenage Dick Grayson himself, and his throat goes tight. Memories of who Bruce used to be to him, of what he used to be to Bruce, flood his mind and he finds he aches in a different way, more urgent, as the past takes over.

“Jay?” you ask, and there’s no way you could have missed that, the way his body locked down. “Is everything okay?” You’re moving again, hands braced on the counter like you’re about to get up and go over to him, which is the last thing he wants right now.

He can feel old defense mechanisms whirring into place. “What are you wearing?” he says, voice curt, instead of answering.

“What?” You glance down at yourself. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to bring something to sleep in so I just—”

“Where did you get that shirt?” Somewhere in his brain Jason feels guilty for making you recoil like that, but it’s lost to the wash of anger that had welled up so suddenly.

“I—I found it in your drawer, I’m sor—”

“So you were snooping through my stuff?” What is he doing, what is he doing? He doesn’t care if you went through his fucking sock drawer, why can’t he stop lashing out at you? But he knows why. 

“No, of course I wasn’t snooping, I… I just,” you’re stammering in confusion. “I didn’t know the shirt was…I can go change if you want?” you offer, trying to placate him.

Jason takes a deep breath, trying desperately to get back in control of himself. He thought he was past this, he thought he was past turning into a crazed jackass any time Bruce pre...pre-Death came up, but apparently not.

“Jay?” You say quietly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he abruptly turns around, facing his back to you. “Just,” he manages to grunt out, “just give me a second.” This isn’t their fault, he hisses in his brain, they don’t deserve his temper. Flailing about, he finally remembers a breathing exercise Dick taught him years ago. Breathe in one two three four out one two three four five. In one two three four, out one two three four five. After about a minute or two, he feels in control again. 

“No,” he says out loud, turning around to face you again, anger leaving him in an exhale. “No, you don’t have to change.” The tired ache slowly creeps back in. “I’m sorry, doll, I shouldn’t’ve gotten angry at you, that wasn’t cool.”

“It’s okay,” you say after a moment. Your shoulders don’t relax from where they’re bunched up around your neck, though, and Jason wants to kick himself.

“Seriously,” he says instead. “You’re fine, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who was wrong for shouting at you.” He needs to make it clear to you that he knows he was out of line, and that there hopefully won’t be a repeat performance of this. “It’s not even about you, it’s just…” He sighs. “Dick gave me that shirt, before. When I was, you know…”

“Still with Bruce,” you supply for him. That was much nicer than ‘When I was still on life number one,’ which is what Jason had been thinking. “Oh, Jay, I’m so sorry, if I had known…” and the compassion in your gaze is so bright he almost wants to take a step back. “You couldn’t’ve,” he says instead, because of course it wasn’t your fault. “It just took me by surprise, is all.”

You nod. “I understand.” And you don’t, not really, but he appreciates the effort. "I can try to be more...aware of stuff like that, in the future."

And Jason wants to say 'don't worry about it,' but what comes out instead is "thank you."

After a few moments of silence, Jason picks up the dirty gun and gets back to work, glancing at you worriedly every few moments. Your eyes follow him for a while, bright and sharp, but eventually you stretch your arms over your head and leave the chair. Jason expects you to go back to bed, and half wonders whether he should offer to take the couch, especially after what just happened, but instead you step into the living room and sit on the sofa, legs stretched out over his coffee table.

Jason cleans and stows the rest of his gear, washes his hands, and wipes down the countertop for good measure before collapsing onto the couch next to you. You turn your head to look at him. Your hackles are still up, and Jason feels sick with himself. “Are you sure you’re okay, doll?” He asks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, it’s okay, I promise.” You flash him a smile, quick and dry, but he notices some of the tension leave you. “So I, um,” you clear your throat, eyes darting away from his. “I really missed you, while you were away.” You hold his gaze then, drawing your lower lip into your mouth, which always drives him a little crazy.

He’s bad at this feelings stuff, he knows he is, which is why he surprises himself when the words “I really missed you, too,” roll off his tongue, easy as anything.

Your lips curve into another smile, syrup-slow this time. He’s momentarily stunned, and when you bring that smile closer to him and peck him on the lips, he has to remind himself to kiss back.

Jason thinks you’ll stop after a minute, and it surprises him when you don’t. Instead, you let a soft sight escape and tilt your head for a better angle, licking sweet into this mouth. He’s not complaining, Jason loves kissing you, so he follows your lead and brings a hand to your waist. You hum when he does, and press yourself closer to him, almost climbing into his lap. Jason’s never been one to miss an opportunity, so he grabs you by the hips and pulls you squarely onto his thighs.

The movement startles you enough that you break from his lips, panting slightly as you reorient yourself. “Hi,” you say, still catching your breath. “Hi,” he answers, then surges up slightly to kiss you again. It’s filthier this time, your breath coming fast as you wind your arms around his neck and start running your fingers through his hair. Jason loves it when you do this, loves feeling your small hands make their way over his scalp. Any remaining tiredness flees in the face of his slow-building arousal. How can he be tired when he’s got your ass in both hands?

When he squeezes lightly you exhale into his mouth and roll your hips against his. “Naughty, naughty,” he murmurs in your ear, smiling against it. “Don’t worry, I know how to make you feel good.”

Your triumphant smile catches him off-guard. “I know you do, baby,” you purr, placing your lips at the juncture of his neck.

His instincts ping lightly. You’re grinning like you’ve won something, or something has gone right. Jason thinks for a second, remembering your soft, too-innocent step out of the bedroom, hair perfectly out of place, at almost the exact moment he came home. This setup seems too good to be true, or at least unplanned. He reaches under your borrowed shirt and confirms his suspicions: you’re not wearing any underwear.

“You were after this the whole time, weren’t you?” You pull back and oh, your grin is wicked, lips cherry-red and glistening. In retaliation, Jason snakes a hand up your chest and pinches your left nipple, lightning-fast. The soft “oh!” you make in surprise is entirely worth it.

“This whole time, you just wanted to get in my pants?”

“Guilty.” There’s a smirk in your voice as you roll your hips again. “You don’t sound too upset about it,” you tease, and you must feel his hardening cock through his pants.

He’s not upset, but he can’t resist the opportunity to tease you a bit more. “That’s what the shirt was about, wasn’t it?” God, it’s so hard to make fun of you when you’re squirming in his lap. “You were trying to do that thing where you wear someone else’s clothing and they find it really sexy and all?”

You slow down there, stop rolling your hips. Shame coats your face as you direct your eyes at the floor. “Jay, I’m so sorry.”

Your shame doesn’t belong here, and Jason’s quick to ease it away. “It’s okay, doll.” He tugs the offending shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the side. “Besides, I happen to prefer you like this.”

You’re a sight to see. Completely naked, sitting pretty on his lap, and fixing him with a look he finds almost challenging. He wants to wipe it off, so he brings his left hand back to your breast, and this time his palm meets skin.

Your eyes flutter shut. “You ‘happen to prefer me like this,’ hmm?” you murmur, arching your back into his grip. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Oh, I think you can,” Jason says slyly, but you’re not listening, you’re too wrapped up in what his hands are up to. He loves it, loves touching you and knowing it’s driving you wild, so he gets his forefinger and thumb around your nipple and pinches lightly, how you like it. He looks up to see your eyes still shut. “Aren’t even looking at me, huh, princess? Can’t even look at me when I’m giving you what you want?” He mock sighs. “Is this it, then, you manipulate me into getting you off but then can’t even look at me while I’m touching you?”

You open your eyes and huff at him. “Yes, Jay, that’s it.”

He grins, and keeps going. “Is it that I’m piss ugly? That’s it, isn’t it, you don’t want to look at my fuck-ugly face?”

“I wish your fuck-ugly mouth would shut up,” you mutter.

“What was that?” Jason moves his hand back to your waist, and you pout at him. It looks so attractive on you.

“C’mon, Jay.” You yank at his hair. “You know you’re stupid hot,” and you’re right, he does know, but some of his scars are ugly and they tend to itch. But you know that, which is why your face softens. “You’re stupid hot, and it’s very distracting. Just shut up and kiss me, you’re being annoying.”

“Okay,” he says, easy, but instead of going for your lips he licks a stripe up your breast and closes his lips around your nipple, the right one this time. Your breath leaves you in a rush, and Jason thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, but then your breathing comes back online a moment later. It’s punch-drunk and delicious, and gets to him in the best way. His cock is becoming harder and harder to ignore. A few seconds later and you’re making these small moans that are almost obscene, so he stays right where he is, with his hands alternating between giving your ass more attention and running up and down your back.

“Fuck, Jay,” you pant, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. “Knew it, knew you would make me feel so good.”

Something occurs to him, and he sucks lightly one last time before pulling back and licking his lips. “Did you touch yourself, doll? While I was gone? Did you make yourself come?”

He has his answer when you look down and bite your lip again. “No, I, um,” and the innocent act you’re pulling is completely ruined by the small smile you’re fighting to keep off your face, but Jason doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. “I wanted you to do it, so I saved it for you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Your words go straight to his groin. The only thing he can think to do is to roll his hips against yours. You meet him there, moving torturously slow against the blunt head of his cock that’s now painful against his zipper. That bit of pain makes it so, so good, and for a few minutes he just moves with you, enjoying the feel of your body against his. Soon, you start talking again. “Jay, Jason, please, touch me,” you beg, your voice going tight as he rolls his hips.

“Where? You have to tell me where, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You stay silent for a few seconds, and then—

“My cunt. My cunt, Jay, and my clit, please.”

You never talk like that, ever, and the filth coming out of your mouth sends electricity crackling through his brain. He immediately stands up, taking you with him. You shriek a bit at being suddenly airborne, then crowd even closer to his chest and start sucking a hickey on his neck. Thoughts hazy, Jason makes for his bedroom and deposits you on his bed.

You quickly collect yourself, stretching out and preening on his rumpled sheets. Jason decides he needs to be naked immediately, and busies himself shucking off his pants and underwear and tearing off his shirt. When he looks at you again, night air cool against his skin, he sees your hand moving between your legs.

Quick as a flash, he darts onto the bed, grabbing your hand with one of his own and placing himself squarely between your thighs. “No, no,” he chides you, pressing your hand into the mattress above your head. “Come on, doll, you’ve waited this long. Let me.” And he brings his free hand to your crotch, finding your clit and rubbing the pad of his index finger against it.

“God, finally,” you hiss, bucking your hips against his hand. He chuckles at that. “Love how impatient you are, love how slick your pussy is.”

You look him in the eye, then. “For you, Jay.”

Well, hell's bells.“For me,” he agrees, then neatly slides his index finger into you. “Ngh--!” He smiles at the aborted sound you make. Jason spends a few minutes here, moving his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way you’re shivering under his touch. Eventually, your voice stops him.

“Fuck me, Jay,” you plead. “Fuck me with your cock.”

He growls, then reaches for his bedside table. Yanking open the drawer, he fishes out a condom, then backs up to open it and roll it on. When he looks back at you he sees your eyes are wide. “You sure you want to do this?” He asks, just to check in.

You nod, then scoot back so you’re flush against the pillows, laying flat on the bed. He moves back over you, coming to rest between your thighs again, one hand on the wall above the bed for support. You gasp as he slowly pushes into you, a bit at a time. “This okay?” He asks.

“No,” you say shortly, and then you hook your legs around his waist and drag yourself toward him, taking him inside entirely. He narrowly misses biting his own tongue as sparks fly behind his eyes. “Go faster,” you order him.

Jason looks down at you. “You’re six different kinds of crazy, doll,” he says, but he smiles in spite of himself, heeds you and starts thrusting, pulling out of you a bit only to fill you again as his hips snap against yours. “You like it,” you say. He can’t believe how good you feel, how tight you are around him.

“Yeah, I do.” And of course he does.

The two of you spend a few minutes trying to match each other’s pace, hips stuttering in the face of your fragmented concentration. Eventually, though, you’re moving together again, and every time you meet one of his strokes you start to make a low sound in the back of your throat. Jason a;ways makes sure to keep his eyes open when you're fucking, and he's had them trained on you from the start. He loves how you look stretched out below him, how your breasts jump lightly when he fucks into you, how your mouth is shaped into a perfect o with lust. It’s a heady feeling, knowing he can do this to you, and he feels almost drunk with it.

Not that the lust and desire is at all one-sided. Suddenly, your muscles squeeze tight around his cock and he almost loses his mind. Before he starts to go completely he reaches a hand between you and starts rubbing at your clit.

“Ah-ah!” you shout, hands moving to his shoulders. He barely registers the feeling of your fingernails biting into his skin, all he can think about is how good you feel and how he can make you feel good. He starts swiping a thumb across your clit every time his hips slam against yours, and the string of swear words you let out in response is delicious.

“Ff-fuck. Fuck, Jay, I’m going to come,” and suddenly you do, face scrunching up below him as you ride the crest of your orgasm. Your walls clamp down on him, and Jason thrusts once more, twice, three times, and then he follows you blissfully over the edge. For a few moments, the two of you keep still, panting together and staring sightlessly into the dark as you wait for the waves of pleasure to subside enough for you to surface. Eventually, Jason wakes up and out of himself to the feeling of you planting a kiss on his lips. He gives himself a shake, then kisses back eagerly. It’s sloppy, but you don’t seem to mind, pulling back after a few seconds to sigh contentedly. “Well,” you say, dragging your arms down his shoulders, “that was nice.”

“You’re being stingy, doll,” Jason berates you lightly, pulling out of you and removing the condom. “That was a few levels beyond ‘nice.’” He ties off the condom and drops it neatly in the trash, before rejoining you on his bed and pulling you to his chest. You waste no time snuggling against him, fitting your head into the hollow of his neck.

Jason feels brave, so he says “I’m really glad you’re here,” before dropping a light kiss to your hair.

You reach up to stroke along his forearm where it rests on your chest. “I’m really glad I’m here too. And, um, I’m really glad we’re together.” You tilt your head up at that, shy eyes peering up to gauge his reaction. It’s almost too easy to meet you halfway. “I am, too.” A beat, and then “does this mean I’m calling you my girlfriend now?”

You smile pleasantly at the ceiling. “I like that.” And Jason does, too.

[forlornmelody]

Three Robins Rose Has Kissed And The One Who Kissed Back

Rating: Explicit (there’s smut, and lots of swearing, and some implied drug use.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: JayRose (Jason Todd/Rose Wilson)

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: Rose Wilson has a type and it is former protégés of Batman.

Note:  For the sake of this story, I'm assuming both the events of the Crisis continuity, and the New 52, happened. (But we're just gonna pretend DC didn't nerf Rose for daddy-fodder, kay? Kay.)

-*-*-

“Rose.” Nightwing stares down at her, narrowing his eyes, but his grin betrays him. “Something tells me you’re doing this on purpose.”

“What makes you say that?” The mat presses up against Rose’s back.

“That’s the third time today I’ve swept you off your feet.” Dick’s got her in a full nelson, one of his escrima sticks pointed at her throat. He’s not actually going to bust her, though. Nightwing, the former Boy Wonder, is too good for that sort of thing. It frustrates her to no end. 

“Maybe I need more practice.” Rose can’t help the playful lilt creeping into her voice. The blue and black look good on him--better because they hug his body in all the right places. All she has to do is tilt her hips--there. One flip and Rose leans over him, pressing both his wrists against the mat. 

“You? You’re better than this.” Somehow it sounds like Dick is commenting on more than her training room flirting tactics, and the smile slips from her face. Like he hasn’t hit on half his opponents already. Hypocrite. She’ll show him. 

Time slows as Rose closes in, so close she can hear Dick’s heart speeding up. Just as her lips are about to brush against his--Dick turns his head and her kiss lands on his cheek. “Oh come on.” Just like that--Dick’s on his feet, launching Rose off him.

“Focus, Rose.” 

Their sparring session continues, and Dick never once brings up the kiss. He drives her crazy, in more ways than one, but she seems to have him off-balance for now. Rose presses her advantage, and she pins Dick face-first against the Robin costume on display. Freezing, Dick sucks in a breath. Before Rose can ask what’s wrong, he shoves his elbow into her sternum, pushing her away. 

“Dick?” 

“Not now.” He doesn’t even look at her as he slams the door behind him. 

What’s his hang-up with his old costume, anyway? 

-----

Rose’s only on this team because of Dick, because even though he doesn’t lead the Titans anymore, what he says goes. Even when the Titans hate his decision. Even when they hate their newest member with a passion. Even though she tried to kill them before. 

But Rose knows more than just martial arts. And she knows just how to get under Tim’s skin. Or on top of it, rather. 

Click. Tim’s got her pressed face-first against the mattress and her hands cuffed behind her back. Somehow Rose suspects this isn’t a bondage thing. Too bad. She really liked the feel of Tim’s lips against hers. 

“Hot damn.” Eddie stares at them through the open door and Rose can literally see steam coming out of his ears. That might be normal for him. Rose hasn’t been paying attention, at least not before now. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Tim says quickly.

“Yes it is,” Rose says even quicker. Sometimes Rose’s visions don’t help much. People’s choices determine the future and people can be oh so finicky. It drives her nuts. Fights are one thing--people either want to kill her or they don’t--the rest they have ingrained through practice or the lack thereof. Knowing whether someone wanted to get in her pants--well. Apparently, she hasn’t quite figured that one out. 

Tim pulls her cuffs off, extracting himself from the bed and putting some distance between them. “Put some clothes on.” Damn. She’s 0-2.

But with the way Eddie’s eyes linger on her as she slides her armor on? Maybe it’s not a total loss. 

----

First Stephanie giggles, and Rose can hear it echo across Gotham’s rooftops. “What are you doing?” Then her smile slips, and the silence is deafening. 

Rose leans in closer, both their asses teetering on the edge. “You and Tim are on a break, right?” Her lips part, and she can smell the lavender in Spoiler’s shampoo. Their breaths intermingle and she’s so close to--

“Rose, I’m straight.”

“Seriously??”

----

Honestly, Rose had given up trying at this point. Jason Todd--Gotham’s best, or perhaps worst bad boy--should have been an easy target. Except he wasn’t Rose’s target, not this time. Her employer wanted Roy Harper out of the picture--Jason was just in her way. And he rarely left his best friend out of his sight. And Rose thought Koriand’r would’ve been more of a problem. And with her out of town--possibly out of planet--this should have been a piece of cake. Just get off The Red Hood’s radar by getting into his pants. How hard could it be?

Way harder than Rose ever imagined. 

But the price on Roy’s head? Too high to pass up. With that kind of money, Rose would be set for life. No more relying on her dear dad to help with bills every so often. Or his car. Or his safehouses. She could even get her brother the care and protection money to keep him away from all those bent government agencies and mad scientists who wanted to dissect his brain, or worse, use him for their own ends. 

So, Rose stayed. Even after Jason turned her down, more than once. 

The first time, it’s on a mission in Hong Kong, where Rose just so happens to be going after the same target. The Jade Dragon--Kingpin and Slum Lord who owned half the Indian Ocean. Roy waits for them on the roof with their getaway ride, and Rose joins Jason in the elevator. Halfway up it just so happens to stall. She really outdoes herself. 

Jason’s blue eyes stare not at her, but at the emergency hatch. The back-up lights cast a soft glow on his skin as Rose closes in. “It’s probably a power failure. No way they don’t have backup generators in this place.”

“Yeah. But they don’t run the elevator when the power goes out--in case of a fire.”

Jason swears under his breath, eyeballing the distance from his feet to the ceiling. “So what. We’ve got about ten, maybe twenty minutes before they fix it?”

“Something like that.” Rose touches his shoulder. “Relax. Where’s your slumlord going to go? The roof?” The stairs don’t go to his penthouse. She checked. Something about a security risk. Rich wackos like him like to be airlifted out in case of emergency. 

Pressing his lips together, Jason lets out the breath he’s being holding for two minutes. “You’re right.” He slumps against the back of the elevator, staring at buttons like they’ve personally wronged him. “I just hate waiting.”

Rose slouches next to him, not quite touching him, but close enough to where they can feel each other’s heat. “I know how we can pass the time.”

Jason blinks, finally giving Rose more than a passing glance. “...You’re kidding, right?” He laughs softly, and it’s the softest she’s ever seen his expression. “We just met.”

The batkid who got hired for jacking the Batmobile’s hubcaps, who had a reputation of going just a little too far when beating up bad guys, who actually killed more than one villain who got under his skin. Jason Todd--the guy on ten international watch lists--a prude. Who knew? 

----

Except Jason isn’t really a prude, now is he? Nah. Rose’s caught him stealing glances at Kori more than once--always looking the other way when Kori’s boytoy Roy stands nearby. Hell, the way Jason and Roy fool around sometimes—Rose’s not completely convinced of the joke. She’s even found some saucy text messages in his phone, and more than one picture of a gorgeous flight attendant. An old flame--Rose guesses. 

But he doesn’t spare her a second glance. 

And it’s not like Rose doesn’t know what she’s doing. Infiltration isn’t her favorite--she’d much rather blow up The Starfire with a heavy payload. Simple. Quick. A big, beautiful explosion to light some fire in her eyes. But the fucking employer wants Roy’s head as proof. Says he and his friends tend to walk away from this sort of thing. Her employer seemingly has all the time and money in the world--so long as Rose completes the job. She’s starting to wonder what Roy did to piss him off. But she knows how to get under a guy’s skin--the right clothes, the right words, simple gestures to lure him in. 

The second time it’s after the mission, when they’re celebrating with drinks--with sparkling cider instead of alcohol (what is it with these guys?) Rose dons a bikini with his favorite colors--red and black and lounges on the deck chair next to Jason. Roy and Kori have the right idea--already having forgotten their bubbly beverages--drinking instead from each other’s lips. And Jason’s staring up at the stars. 

 Rose kind of envies him in that moment, floating on the water with nothing but wonder on his face. She swan dives at the opposite end, swimming her way toward him. The splash does stir his floaty, and Jason turns over to glance her way. Maybe, just maybe she has a chance. 

“Nice moves out there today. You dad teach you that?”

Rose shrugs. “My mom taught me a few things, too.” Mostly how to draw in close without her mark noticing. But nothing seems to slip Jason’s attention. 

Jason eyes her as her arms brace themselves on his thigh. “You really want me, don’t you.”

“Can’t fault a girl for trying.” And damn her, he’s gorgeous, and cut like a rock. Was it all his years in the batcave or his time with the All-Caste? 

But that’s not want hooks Rose the most. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not like that.” It’s the softness in his eyes. She’s only seen it a couple of times in the past few days, but each time he looks at his friends like that Rose swears she’s being let in on a big secret. 

“Do not tell me you’re gay.”

Jason laughs, laughs, and Rose immediately knows she’s in too deep. “Gay? Straight? Labels. Who needs ‘em?” He stretches out on the pool mattress, and he lets the leg Rose’s leaning on slip into the water. “They’re just more rules.” 

“Then why…?” Rose doesn’t say it. Doesn’t voice the rejection sinking into her brain. Admitting it out loud would mean admitting failure, and Rose Wilson does not fail. 

Shrugging, Jason murmurs. “Don’t know you well enough, yet.”

----

Rose should’ve given up at this point. Gone for the easier kill, damn the consequences. Just snapped Roy’s neck while Kori was in the shower. And why hasn’t she? She hasn’t the foggiest idea. But if she’s honest with herself--Rose knows exactly why. 

Roy is Jason’s best friend. 

Jason would never forgive her if he found out. 

And why does it matter if Jason hates her? 

Damnit, Rose. 

This was exactly the kind of fucked up shit her dad warned her about. Don’t stick around too long. Don’t make friends. Don’t let your mark get under your skin. And what did Rose do? Exactly that.

Her employer doesn’t care if she seduces Jason Todd or not, so why does Rose? 

Damn it all to fucking hell. 

Rose beats the hell out of the punching bag, shaking the chain it hangs from with every strike. Each punch she lands inspires a new idea. Slip some arsenic in his drink. Stab him from behind. Throw him off the roof of the ship. Press a pillow into his face. Snap his neck. Snap his fucking--

“Rose?”

Her fist freezes midair, and she pants, not bothering to turn around. “Yeah?”

“It’s Roy. Something’s happened.”

Fuck. “Is he dead?”

Jason’s eyes tighten as he shakes his head. “We need to find him. Fast.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

----

Rose should be happy. Roy did all her hard work for her. Someone found him while he was on a bender, tied him up, and has been carving up his skin as if the answers themselves will bleed right out. 

Amateurs. A professional knows only to interrogate a sober target. Establish a baseline of what the hostage knows and then break them down with intoxication if need be. Break them slowly, only as much as needed. Dead hostages can’t answer questions. 

“Arsenal?” Jason whispers, tilting up Roy’s chin. He doesn’t respond, and his head flops down, heavy against his chest. 

Kory shoots the nearest window, a low growl escaping from her throat as glass shards rain down the side of the building. Rose jumps a little, despite herself. She doesn’t want to imagine being on the receiving end of one of those star bolts. 

“C’mon, Roy. Answer me.” Rose never thought she’d hear Jason beg, not like that. She can’t stand it. 

Walking over, Rose check’s Roy’s pulse and sighs in relief. It’s sluggish, almost too faint to feel. Rose could put him out of his misery right here and now and his friends would have no idea who killed him. Just slip her knife in to hit his artery and bam. Problem solved. Her fingers slip toward the knife on her belt, but Jason’s pleading gaze stops her cold. 

“Is he…?” Oh fuck. Jason has tears welling in his eyes. 

“Alive.” Rose can just see the barrel of the gun her employer will use to tie up loose ends. “Not for long, though.”

Between the three of them, Jason, Rose, and Kory carry Roy back to the ship where they can apply first aid, and the ship’s alien technology can perform a synthetic blood transfusion. Roy’s pulse slowly returns to something recognizable, and Rose sinks in her seat. She’s deciding between her safe houses when Jason’s fingers graze her jaw. 

Rose jumps out of her seat, using everything in her power not to deck him in the face. “The fuck…?”

“Hey.” Oh. Jason’s nose is so close to hers that she can feel his breath on her face. She can smell the mint he just put in his mouth. Never once did Rose imagine Jason could be such a sap. The heat of his fingers sears her skin, but she doesn’t pull away. Rose dares a glance down his lips and when she looks back up Jason’s already tilting his head to meet hers. 

His kiss is softer than she expects, lightly brushing his lips over hers, holding her jaw just enough so she can slip away if she wants to. Rose freezes, never expecting this after all this time, all those refusals. Jason starts to pull back before her brain finally stops dividing by zero, and she grabs the back of his neck, crushing her lips against his. Swearing softly, Jason meets her tit for tat, and they stumble out of the med bay and into the hall. 

Rose presses him against the wall, slipping her hands inside the opening of his favorite jacket, feeling the heat rising off his chest and the rush of his heartbeat. Part of her still expect to wake up from this dream in her bed alone, heart hammering, skin flushed, thighs damp with need. She mouths a silent prayer into his lips, to the god she never bothers to answer to, pleading to make the dream real, just this once. 

Jason’s hands wander across her shoulders, down her arms, and around her hips to her back. Rose steps between his legs, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Breaking for air, Jason’s words come out ragged. “We...we should pick a room. Yours or mine?”

Instead of answering him with words, Rose guides him to his door and shoves him inside, tossing his jacket to the floor. Jason stares at her breathlessly, and she hesitates. “Too much?”

“Never.” His fingers wind in her hair, pulling her back into another kiss.

Rose drinks him in like she’s parched for thirst, scratching the edge of his hairline from the tips of his ears to the base of his skull. Jason sucks in a breath and Rose grins into his mouth. She tastes him, gasping softly as his fingers twist in her curls, pulling at her hair just enough. HIs other hand wanders just south of her waist and he freezes. Stepping back, Rose loosens her hold, looking him over from head to toe. 

Jason pants, taking her in too. “...Are we…?”

Leaning against the closed door, Rose folds her arms. “Are we what, Jason?”

“Is this a onetime thing or…” Jason’s eyes trail back in the direction of the hospital room and suddenly the tension between him and the other Outlaws make a lot more sense. 

Damnit. “I’m a merc, Jason.” Really, she should be happy with the kiss, more than the kiss, but this--former Robin proves hard to let go of. “I’ve stayed here too long as it is.”

Jason’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and Rose plasters on her poker face, hoping he hasn’t found her out tonight of all nights. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Push me away.” His voice wavers as he speaks, and Rose’s heart plummets to her stomach. Damn him. 

“What do you want from me?” And damn her too, that waver is apparently contagious. 

Jason steps closer, sliding his hand in to cup her jaw, the edge of his thumb grazing the bottom of her cheek. “I don’t want to just fuck, Rose.” His eyes close, and he brushes his nose against hers. “I want to--” He clamps his mouth shut, trembling slightly in his touch. 

The word teeters on the edge of his tongue, but it doesn’t come out, so Rose pulls it out with a snarl. “Loving me will get you killed, Jason.”

A sloppy grin forms on his face, and Jason nods at her. “Death isn’t as final as you think.”

“So what. You’re immortal now?” She’s grinning too, and she knows she’s fallen too far to get back up.

Jason brushes his lips against hers. “I sure feel like I am when I’m around you.” His next kiss probes deeper, and one hand tugs on her elbow. “Stay. After this is over.”

Her answer is right there, just inside her mouth, but Rose says something else instead. “Oh? You’re that sure I’m a good fuck?”

His lips smack against hers. “I’m not here to fuck you.”

“Jason--”

He silences her with a finger, and then he traces the edge of her lips with his fingertip. Rose resists the urge to pull it into her mouth and suck on it. She’s doomed. “I’m here to make love to you.”

Rose swallows, freezing on the spot. “I can’t promise you anything.”

His smile slips, and she desperately wants to put it back on his face. Rose doesn’t want to break his heart, not anymore. “Rose--”

“No one can.” Tracing the space where his heart hammers in his chest, Rose whispers softly. “Someone could break in ten minutes from now and shoot me in the head.” Standing up on her tiptoes, she kisses his forehead. “Nothing’s guaranteed.” Then she kisses the back of his hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jason watches her, his face inscrutable as ever. 

Shit. Did I make things worse? Rose opens her mouth to murmur another apology but Jason kisses her before she can say a word. He pulls her close, his hands seemingly everywhere at once, and yet she craves more of him. Daring to slide her hand up Jason’s shirt, she grins into his lips as he leans heavily into her touch, a groan escaping from his lips despite himself. She grazes the lines of his abdomen with her nails. “Oh,” Rose says softly. 

Jason Todd. Blushing. As he watches her. “Like what you see?” he says just as soft. 

“I haven’t seen anything yet.” She ducks down, pushing up his shirt and following its path with her mouth. 

“Fuck.” One of his wandering hands finds its way back to her hair, holding her head as she breathes against his stomach. “Rose.”

Rose stands up, grinning against his collarbone. “Getting there.” She finds the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder and lavishes her attention there, charged by the tightening of his grip. 

Jason pushes her to arm’s length, taking a ragged breath. He drags down the zipper of her jacket, taking in the sight of her skin inch by inch. Rose presses into his touch, admittedly reddening a bit herself. His lips part with hunger, but it's the wonder in his eyes that stops her in place—like he sees the stars flickering across her skin.  With his fingers he traces the scar on her shoulder and the ones that line her arms. Sucking in a breath, he circles the mark of a bullet on her chest. “That must’ve hurt.”

“Like hell.” Rose mutters, only to gasp when Jason presses his lips against it. “Jason.”

“Shh,” he says softly, breathing in her scent as he edges his fingers beneath her bra and the plastron it holds. He traces a path up her neck and across her throat until he makes it to her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Why does the thought of him being gentle make her heart beat faster?  Part of her wants him to have his way, and take his time exploring her body. Another, much louder part wants to rile him until he takes her fast and hard. Rose grabs the edge of his shirt, looking up at Jason. He nods, and she bites her lips as she pulls it over his head. 

Holy shit. 

Rose thought she had a lot of scars. Jason has so many she doesn’t even know where to start. There are the bullet marks, the punctures, the rhythmic signs of torture, the line going up the side of his neck and into his hairline where a crowbar must’ve bashed his head in. It’s not until Jason tilts her chin up that Rose realizes she’s been holding her breath. “I’m still here,” he whispers, pulling her into another kiss. She wonders how many times he’s kissed Death on the lips, only to pull back when it wanted him most. 

“Soon, you’ll in bed.” She grins against his lips, finding the latch on his belt. “Booby traps? Really?”

He laughs once, running a hand down her breast, feeling the softness of her skin there. “Safety first.” When he gets to the lines of her abdomen, he swallows, drawing a grin from Rose’s mouth. 

Stepping back, Rose eyes the latch, her brain already processing the potential catastrophes, and the configurations that would enable them. “Gotcha.” The belt clicks open, without a single explosion or poison released. 

Jason blinks at her as she sets the belt aside. “I can’t decide if that’s hot or terrifying.”

Rose stands up on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear. “Why not both?” She punctuates her question with a bite on his ear lobe. The rumble of his groan stirs her chest, sending shockwaves between her legs. Hooking her thumbs in his belt loops, Rose pulls him closer, grinding up against him. 

“Rose--” He says, in pleading or in warning, Rose isn’t quite sure.

“What do you want, Jay?” She runs the tip of her tongue up the ridge, shivering at the way his ragged breaths stir her hair. 

“Bed,” he says hoarsely, “now.” He pulls her with him, and they tumble into the sheets, boots still on. 

It’s a race, then, to see who can get the other’s off the fastest. Four thunks, laughs, and tangled sheets later, Rose climbs up his body, guiding his hands to her belt. Jason’s removed plenty of belts, that Rose is sure, but it’s like he deliberately fumbles his hands against her skin, just so he has an excuse to graze his knuckles there. And damn him, her skin jumps every time. Fine. She’ll make him lose track for real. Rose plants a wet kiss against his lips, running her hands down his shoulders and his arms, guiding his fingers until her belt clangs against his bookshelf before sliding to the floor. “Better,” she murmurs. 

Jason runs his fingertips along the edge of her jeans, drawing his touch up and down her spine. “I could stare at you for hours, you know that?”

Rose snorts. “I can think of better ways to spend your time.”

Tilting his chin in challenge, Jason sits back. “Oh? Like what?”

Biting her bottom lip, Rose catches his wandering hand, and takes it to the button of her jeans. “Lemme show you.”

Jason holds his breath, unbuttoning her jeans and drawing the zipper down. He’s so quiet Rose starts to doubt what her late-night visions have been telling her for months. Maybe they weren’t her precognition talking. Maybe they’re just the wet dreams so many guys and girls have had ever since Jason donned a mask. Searching his eyes, Rose says, “We can stop--”

Holding her gaze, Jason replies, “I don’t want to.” HIs fingers follow hers inside her jeans and inside her underwear, and he sucks in a breath. “Shit, you’re wet.”

Rose blushes, despite herself. “You really all that surprised?” She presses his fingers in slow, small circles, holding onto the headboard behind him for balance. Then she moves his touch faster, harder, gasping against his shoulder. “Nn, fuck.” 

“Breathe.” Jason chuckles softly, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. He moves his fingers more independently now while she’s distracted. And Rose breathes him in, awash in gunpowder and amber, and that salty scent he bears after a fight. Always so uniquely Jason Todd that the smell of it sends Rose right over the edge. He shakes them both with his laughter. “And our pants aren’t even off yet.”

“Shut up.” Rose pulls back to look at him.

He smirks. “Make me.”

Jason doesn’t need to say it twice. Rose assaults his lips with hers, pushing him down into the mattress. Making quick work of his jeans, she pulls them down as he shimmies out of them. Boxers briefs, huh? They’re just a simple grey with a black waist band--for some reason she’d expected some sort of smart-alecy words printed on them.  Sliding down, she runs the tip of her nose up the line of his bulge, grinning as he writhes beneath her. While she sits up, Rose edges her fingers inside, feeling along his length, breathing in Jason’s unsteady gasps. Always so coy and cocky, and now he can’t form a single word. “Cat got your tongue?” she murmurs against his ear. 

Jason turns his head, kissing her long and deep, rolling them over. Rose lifts her hips so he can get her jeans off, and he kisses just south of her belly button. “Mm.” Glancing up at her, Jason grins, kissing harder against that spot, lavishing his tongue until she squirms beneath him. But she doesn’t beg, not yet. The lines in his back are coiled tight, so tight his body might burst at the seams, but Jason takes his time, kissing down her hips, her thighs, her calves. Swallowing her whine, Rose reaches for his shoulder, but Jason takes her hands, placing them back at her sides. 

“Patience, Rose.” He silences her protests with a kiss, diving back between her legs, edging them apart so that he has room. His lips find her ankle, the back of her knee, and Rose heart pounds as he gets closer and closer to her underwear. There’s no hiding her need for him now, with the way it soaks the front of her boyshorts. Jason samples the taste of her through the fabric, giving her one long lick. 

“Oh fuck.” Rose gasps and twists, and Jason has to hold her down with one arm slung across her abs. He peels her underwear off, testing her with different pressures and strokes. Every so often, she catches him looking up at her, assuring himself he’d doing it just the way she likes. Her insides clench, and she twists in bliss, but Jason doesn’t stop, only pausing briefly to come up for air. Even then, his fingers fill in while he wipes his mouth.

“Shh.” He whispers against her mouth, reaching over into his bedside drawer for a condom. Did she say something? 

“Yeah?” Rose asks, and her voice comes out hoarse. Fuck, she must’ve been screaming. While he slides on the condom, she’s reaching over for a bottle of water, downing half of it without giving a fuck to whom drank from it last.

Jason returns to her, surprisingly shy when they’re so close to merging their bodies. He gives her one chaste kiss, then another, letting her lead the pace. She winds one hand around the back of his neck, scratching the skin at the base of his skull. The other she uses to thumb the scar next to his eyebrow, the sharp line of his jaw, the sheen of sweat running down his neck to his collarbone, and that delicious line that runs down to the thatch between his legs. Guiding him inside her, Rose closes her eyes, letting his groan wash over her shoulder. 

Rose traces circles across his back as he thrusts in and out, only to grip his shoulder when he picks up the pace. Jason grins against her mouth, sliding his hand between them, and Rose jolts, clinging to him as she whimpers into his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against her mouth. “You can let go.” His tone meanders between loving and teasing, and maybe for Jason there is no line between them. 

She doesn’t want to, not again before he does. But then Jason has to fucking whisper sweet nothings in her ear. 

“You’re so beautiful when you let go,” he says softly, and her world flashes white, much like it does on the cusp of a vision. Her body coils like a spring, and Rose hooks her ankles around his hips, drawing him deeper inside as she clenches around him. 

Jason’s eyes pinch shut as he loses his tightly held control, and Rose rolls her hips until he falls to her side. “Holy hell,” he gasps softly, muffled by his pillow. 

“Yeah.” Rose shouldn’t, but she can’t help but kiss his left temple, tucking them in and tossing the spent condom aside. 

She spends the night committing every line of his body to memory. And it helps soothe her in the weeks, months, and years ahead. 

---

The next morning, Rose rolls to get closer to him, only to find his side of the bed empty. In his place, Jason left a small, folded piece of paper, and Rose takes her time undoing all the creases. 

Rose,

You’ve no idea how amazing you are. I hope last night isn’t the end of it, but I understand if it is.

--Jason.

Beneath his name, Jason’s inscribed his number, and though Rose memorizes it within seconds, she always keeps the note close, in her utility belt or between her bra and her plastron, next to her beating heart. 

[scentedbygunpowder]

Moms Made Fullmetal Week, 2019 Day 1: Fear/Hope/Is this real? Word Count: 2395 Author: Katie/Ally (scentedbygunpowder) Rating: PG Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Edward Elric; Mentions of/Minor Characters Alphonse Elric, Roy Mustang, and Alex Armstrong Summary: Lots of things inspire fear, hope, and astoundment. But nothing has ever done it more to Riza Hawkeye then the two boys she’s adopted in her heart and watching them on The Promised Day.

~*~

Fear/Hope/Is This Real?

This day had been a day full of more than she had ever imagined. Yes, Riza had known that taking down the corrupt generals and stopping The Promised Day was going to be difficult. She thought she had been prepared. Focused, ready, stoic. It had gone off perfectly at first. Going just the way they wanted, even better than they had expected.

Then they had discovered the white monsters and that had certainly changed things. But even those were quickly dealt with thanks to the Colonel, and she had taken that moment of fear—for all soldiers felt fear. It was a motivator if nothing else—and sat it to the side once the situation had been dealt with. It was time to move onto the next task.

Too bad Envy had come along and practically destroyed the Colonel. Oh, yes, the Colonel had destroyed the homunculus too, but the shapeshifter had almost taken Roy Mustang—the person of Roy Mustang, who Roy Mustang was--with him, and Riza’s fear had been very real at that time. She had thought that nothing else could match her fear at that moment—fear that had caused even her steady hands to shake.

How wrong she had been.

Her neck had been sliced open and she had nearly had to watch the man she loved either commit the ultimate sin or watch her die, except for Mei’s welcome interference. Then she had watched him being taken away from her, watched him disappear, found him again, albeit blind, and joined a fight even barely able to stand herself as they faced down a god-like individual (as those were the only words she could think of to describe him).

And still it wasn’t the greatest fear she had faced that day.

No, that had been when she had watched Edward disappear before her eyes.

Later she would question why no one stopped him. Why no one had decided to step in and say no at that moment, as they watched him scratch out a circle to get his brother back. She questioned why she didn’t. She was no alchemist, but she had been around them all her life. She knew what that was. She knew what he was drawing.

And yet she did nothing.

Perhaps it was because his own father was there. Perhaps it was because she had come to trust the young boy. Perhaps because it was because she was afraid of what he would say or do if she did. Perhaps it was because she felt it wasn’t her place, even though she had felt these maternal feelings for both boys for years. She had known them since they were twelve and eleven, respectively. She had watched them grow, listened to them, advised them, even held them at times. She knew she could never replace their mother, and she would never presume to do so, but she had come to care for them as if they were her own children. She never said it out loud, but it was true nonetheless.

She had watched one of her sons give his life in the this fight today—give his soul. She was afraid she was about to lose the other too.

As she watched Edward proclaim that this was going to be his last transmutation and clap his hands together fear clawed at her throat more then had happened at any other time during the day. This fear was bigger than watching Mustang loose his sanity, than nearly dying, than all the combat she had ever seen. It crawled into her throat and for a moment she swayed, and she knew it wasn’t from the blood loss, but the fear.

Edward had disappeared.

She wanted to call out his name, to move forward towards where he was, to demand he come back, but her fear was so great that she couldn’t. It froze her in place. He was gone. He wouldn’t come back. She had lost both of her boys in one day. She had nearly died, the man she loved was blind, and she had lost both her boys. The fear of that being true drove her to her hands and knees, and she heard Major Armstrong behind her start, moving towards her. She could hear Roy’s voice asking if she was alright. Both sounded muted, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her perception or because of the situation, but it didn’t matter. Fear was overriding everything else as she waited for Edward to return and prayed (although after today, she honestly had no idea who to) for his safe return.

She was just giving up the last of her hope when light flared, and her head snapped up, ignoring the swimming that motion put her head into. She ignored the strong hand of the Major at her back and the hand of her Colonel on her shoulder. Something was happening at the center of the circle Edward had made, and something no one else had done. It hadn’t been touched or activated by anyone and hope flared in her surged up and she clung to it. The light was bright, as all alchemy lights tended to be, but she didn’t look away, hope filling her as she saw something forming from seemingly nothing in the middle of the circle—Edward, bruised, beaten, but smiling, holding a thin figure with long matching hair that wasn’t conscious. She knew who it was, just because of the way Edward was smiling. It was Alphonese. It had to be.

It had to be, and she wasn’t going to accept anything else for an answer. Could he have really done it? Had Edward actually found a way to restore his brother without taking a single life? Was this real? Her hope flared up, nearly overtaking her, and she forced herself to go upright.

“Lieutenant! What’s going on!”

Mustang’s voice broke through to her, finally, and she laughed.

“He did it!” she said. “Ed did it! He brought Alphonse back—His body and his soul! It’s all restored!”

Mustang’s hand was still on her shoulder, and she reached for it, pulling him closer, and then pulling him along with her as she forced her way through the crowd to the two boys, smiling widely, something almost no one had ever seen from the stoic Lieutenant. But considering what had just happened, no one seemed to think it was odd. She walked right up to the boys, pulling Mustang along behind her. Edward looking up at their approach. He was as he was when he left, injuries and all, but Alphonse did not look like a suit of armor, obviously. In fact, he had nothing on, no clothes to cover him.

“Colonel, give me your coat,” she demanded of him.

He did it without question, and on shaking legs she took it and moved closer to the boys, spreading it out over Alphonse, covering him and hopefully keeping his painfully thin body warm.

“Lieutenant,” Edward said. “I…”

Riza shook her head, reaching out to the both of them, smoothing their hair back, first Ed, then Al. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, and her hand was shaking as she spoke. “I’m so proud of you. You did it, Edward. You got his body back. You accomplished your mission. I’m so proud of you.”

Edward was blushing slightly, looking at a loss for words, and his face blurred before her eyes. Was she crying? Well, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was. Her hope for these two boys to finally, finally, be able to carry on a normal life was restored, and it was a day to be emotional. How could this be real? How could all of this be real? It was astounding and she was filled with joy.

“Lieutenant?”

Something in his voice sounded off, and she looked to see if maybe it was Alphonse, if maybe he had awoken and his voice sounded different out of the armor. But he was still lying still and unconscious.

And then—she wasn’t sure—but there seemed to be alarm on his face, and she felt a little guilty because she hadn’t meant to upset him, but her brain was stuck in a loop of “Is this real?” and “I’m so proud.” But something was different, and she remembered thinking “Is this real? Do I have my two boys back, safe and whole?” before, for some reason, it was hard to hold onto thoughts and they all slipped away. She thought she heard alarmed voices, but she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that everything was starting to seem like a dream, and she was sure she asked at least one person “Is this real?”

She remembered waking long enough to talk to Rebecca, although she didn’t remember what the conversation was, and to ask someone about Alphonse and Edward before she faded out again. There were small bits of conversation like that, ones that she couldn’t be sure later were real or not, before she finally woke with her brain settled. Most of them seemed to be centered on checking in on her two boys, but she was never completely sure if she heard that correct answers or not.

However, now she woke completely, her mind caught up with her body. She blinked for a moment, taking in her surroundings. She was in a bed, bandages tight around her neck, and IV with blood in it going into her arm. The room was dark, with only the moonlight coming through the window and the soft light creeping in around the doorframe where she could also hear soft footsteps and conversations. She went to look around, but stopped with a soft gasp as the motion of turning pulled at her neck. Almost immediately there was movement from across the room, and a figure got up, walking over towards her. It took her a moment to recognize him in the dark, but she gave Edward a dim, tired smile in the dark.

“Is this real?” she asked him, her own voice soft, tired. “Did—did it really happen? Did you bring Al’s body back?”

“Don’t talk too much, Lieutenant. The doctors are concerned about your wounds breaking open again.” He said. “You scared us when you passed out earlier. When I learned what happened, I don’t know how you were even staying on your feet.”

“Stubbornness,” she said with a wry smile, and Edward laughed in response.

Still, he looked down at her and answered her question. “Yeah, it’s real, Lieutenant. Al woke up not long after you and the Colonel were spirited away to the medical tents. He’s himself alright. Body and soul.” Edward was grinning at her. “You have no idea how happy I am to have him back.”

She reached for his hand, and he obliged her, willingly. She squeezed it. “I was so scared that I’d lost both of you, Edward, when you disappeared into that transmutation circle. The thought of losing one of you was hard enough, but both…”

His eyes looked a little troubled, and he started to hush her again. “Lieutenant, you really shouldn’t be—“

“Let me finish, please,” she said. “It’s important.” He was quiet, and she continued. “Through everything else that we had been through today,” was it even still the same day? Well, he’d know what she meant. “I was more afraid when you disappeared then through all of the rest of it.” She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. “And then, when you reappeared with another body, I hoped so badly for you that it had worked.” She gave him another tired smile. “All I wondered was if it was real, while knowing I was so proud of you. And I am. I always will be.”

There was something in the back of Ed’s eyes, an emotion that Riza was too tired to try to name, to worn to find the words for, although it was soft, and she knew that there was love in it. He smiled softly at her, and reached out, smoothing her hair down much as she had done to him earlier, their positions reversed. His hand squeezed hers. “Lieu—Hawkeye. That… that means a lot to me. I know it will to Al too, when he wakes up. Believe it or not, we have wanted to do you proud over these years. You and the Colonel both. Thank you for saying it.”

She smiled at him, and opened her mouth to say more, although she felt a twinge in her neck and winced. Edward noticed, of course, and shook his head, pulling up a chair to her bedside. “Al’s right over there,” he said nodding in the direction he had come from, “And the Colonel is in here too,” he gestured back behind him, where a curtain was drawn. The rooms are pretty full right now, so this is going to have to work. But listen, you don’t say anything else, okay? Just rest.” He still had her hand. “I’ll watch over you while you sleep. I can’t sleep anyway—my brain’s on overload. I promise I’ll go to bed the moment I feel tired, alright? Or if there’s any pain or anything. I’m find, alright? I just need to know that you’re okay too. So you just rest now.”

He was lying to her, to some extent. She could see how tired he was and how much his body, at least, needed rest. But she also knew alchemists. If their brains were running and wouldn’t stop, then they weren’t going to sleep, no matter their physical condition. Besides, she understood the need to make sure that someone you cared about was okay. She was doing that now, with Edward, and as soon as she could, she would be making sure that Alphonse was alright too.

And so, with one last smile at him, she closed her eyes, drifting back into sleep. It was unspoken between them, and likely always would be, but they both knew it: He and Al were her sons, and she was a mother to them. It didn’t have to be said. Riza could feel it as she drifted off to sleep, holding onto Edward’s warm right hand and slipped into a restful slumber, knowing that both her sons were safe at long last.

[zackarack-kelroth]

So, I had bot create a new Metal Gear Solid Plot and I’m amazed at it-

[METAL GEAR SOLID: ANOTHER STORY]

 After the events of Shadow Moses, Solid Snake met up with Colonel Roy Campbell. Preparing to be debriefed with a new mission to do with nothing more than a cigarette in his hands. 

 He was assigned to infiltrate and clear out the Iraqi satellite surveillance facility, Freedom House, which was being dug by rogue satellite equipment crews in the wake of the Mossad's agent Muammar Qaddafi's attack on Liberty City. Also preparing to be debriefed was Rick Deckard, who was investigating the incident involving the Replicants near Solid Snake's area.

Something that Deckard himself has dealt with before. Colonel Campbell would then send the two off on an airplane in Afghanistan only to be shot at by Jack Dannlinger, who was undercover as Meryl Silverburgh. He asked for more bodies from the Replicants to verify the terrorist incident. Deckard would find himself caught in the crossfire and destroyed, as Campbell came out of the ambush dead.

In the aftermath, he discovered that the Replicants needed him and that his friend J. Edgar Hoover to introduce him to his former boss. It was Hoover who appointed him the first of his secret agents, a young F.B.I. agent named Norman Armitage. 

Suspiciously Armitage was later discovered to be having an affair with someone named Marion Bishop, an attorney who had been working with Project Purity. Surviving the attack, Solid Snake crashed into Afghanistan to finish the rest of his mission. There, he met Raiden, Psycho Mantis, and Gray Fox, all of whom attacked him. 

After defeating them, he escaped the island and returned to the west coast.Alone and naked, Solid Snake spotted a few guards inside an Afghani village. No doubt hiding Qadafi inside. He would then kick the shit out of them. It wouldn't make sense that he would go after such a man in such an isolated place. The only solution would be to break into a police station in this quiet corner of the nation. He needed to test his new katana against law enforcement's weak points. 

The police station was next to the Ali Baba Clock tower, which was also a training facility. Inside, Snake would find Hoover and Armitage. Monologuing about the Replicants and their plans to surpass the Patriots and to control the American Government. Solid Snake growled, responding to these events by giving his own pieces of advice about World Peace. He said that if the Patriots succeeded in destroying the Patriots, it would no longer be possible for them to keep their power base in the hands of the global group. He described how they might lose control and lose access to the others: the forces of the Patriots may experience internal conflict. 

Armitage cackled before pressing a button, activating their own Replicant Metal Gear. Its codename being based on the teddy bear found in the RGM-79 Model S Custom. "Kushka" had received a specific model of armor with twin smokesticks on it during the experiment for hunting and disassembling the original's unprotected transmission, so she preferred using a Replicant.

Seeing this as a threat, Solid Snake glanced at the Metal Gear before he began to attack it by poking around it with his grenades. Once again the Metal Gear started to spit out its "damaged components" as shown by Solid Snake. Liquid pulled out the tactical nuke and used it to fire a ball of fire at the Metal Gear, blowing up portions of it. After the nuke exploded, Liquid used the design of the nuke to make a "bowie knife-like" knife which he used to stab the Metal Gear's crotch.

Snake: Well, Armitage. It looks like your plans are over. Time to give up and put your hands behind your head. There's nothing more than you can do. 

 Armitage: ...Ah, wait, wait! ... 

Papa: I don't think so, Armitage. There are some things even the strongest man has to be wary of. 

 Armitage: Papa, how did you know...? Papa: None of this would have happened if not for...well, a few things.

Armitage: Well, that doesn't matter! I'll be taking Mr. Hoover, Qadafi, and the Replicants back to the US with me! Enjoy the fruits of your folly, Solid Snake!

 Armitage would cackle before pulling out an AK-47, shooting recklessly at a dazed Solid Snake who was stumbling in the shadows, the latter also firing at a parachuting Solid Snake who looked like he was going to collapse from the impact.

Solid Snake would counter Armitage's angered stream of bullets. Realizing that he only had three grenades left and noticing the traitor's position on top of a broken elevator shaft, he'd pull the pin on one of the explosives before throwing them at Armitage. 

 Armitage, too angry to see the speeding grenade coming at him, would then quickly move around the corner, causing the other grenade to explode mid-flight, having found a clear route past the gadgeteer. Armitage would then be held up by Solid Snake on the second floor. Hoover being knocked unconscious as the soldier would hold the barrel of a 9mm Barretta up to the back of his head.

Solid Snake: Well, Armitage. You've screwed up. Now where's Qadafi? 

 A few moments later, Armitage would be stabbed in the back by a well-aimed sniper rifle shot that grazed the right side of his head. The man's body would then fall over the railing.Shocked by this random betrayal, Solid Snake would glance up towards the ceiling to find Qadafi himself. Accompanied by a sniper named Jonas (who was supposedly over six feet tall), Qadafi were handing out small pamphlets about the Free Syrian Army in the hope that Snake could be drawn into the conflict by these views. Snake did end up on the first round of a battle on the Eastern Damascus plains.

Solid Snake: Qadafi... WHY DID YOU KILL ARMITAGE? And why are you using Hoover for your replicant army?

 Qadafi: Because you're a bitch.

Jonas would then aim down from the ceiling at Solid Snake as he stood angered on the second floor. He would then fire his Sniper Rifle at him, causing Snake to jump to the third floor and fire his hand cannon at Jonas. He would then shoot one of Snake's eye, causing the soldier to collapse to the ground.

Now only functioning with one eye, Snake took a deep breath to calm himself down before aiming his assault rifle up at Qadafi and Jonas. He would then seal the door and shoot Qadafi in the head before he could escape.Angered by Qadafi's death, the sniper known as Jonas would yell at Solid Snake.

Demanding him to come out of his hiding place while firing several shots from his sniper rifle to lure him out. 

Jonas: You bastard! I won't accept this!

Solid Snake: You think I'm all alone and without purpose? Just for acting tough?  

Jonas: Oh, I hate you! That's what I think! Hating me doesn't make me a soldier, soldier! (to Snake) How could I have been so wrong!? How could-

Solid Snake would then open the door, revealing himself to be holding a rocket launcher as Jonas squeals from on top of the ceiling. The former member of Foxhound would aim at the sniper before saying one of his signature one-liners. 

Solid Snake: I don't know what's going on. But I do know one thing. I am good at being boss!

And with that, Solid Snake would fire the Rocket Launcher at Jonas. Causing the sniper to scream one last time before getting blasted by the weapon and falling off the clocktower. Jonas would then crash down onto the ground below. His own sniper rifle impaling him from behind as he went down, buried in the concrete. Jonas would die screaming in agony.

After defeating Jonas, the bleeding out Solid Snake would then sit himself down. Lighting a cigarette before putting it to his lips. Feeling his consciousness drift away. He would then speak his last words out cold and alone. 

Snake: You...you've been through so much, huh? Upon dying the Fierce Fighting Spirit dying one last time. As it seemed that nothing could stop the nature of his final "end."

Armitage was killed, Qadafi is defeated, and the world finds itself in peace once again. Solid Snake did the right thing for his country. He was a real Patriot. A man who could do nothing wrong. 

And so the moral of this tale is that you are the most important person in the world. No matter what. You are the savior of the world. Whether you are neutral or strong towards an enemy is irrelevant. Whatever side you are on, go out there and fight. Always. 

[THE END]

[bleedingcoffee42]

Eureka AU- Part 10

20k words was a gross underestimation.  Maybe this ‘pilot episode’ will be wrapped up in 30k-40k but fuck me for already thinking about making more episodes in this AU and making it a series.   Cause I have that time.   But the ‘working together as well as married Royai AU’ element is not getting used enough in this fic and that would be a shame to not work with that more.  

Click the Eureka AU tag to see prev parts of this serial flash fic.

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While Mustang and Edward where taking what they needed from Comanche's lab, Marcoh went over to have a conversation with Alphonse about the concerns he had with the chelation process.   He had caught a few glances from Dr. Knox that said 'You better bring this up before I do' and he appreciated the good doctor allowing him to have the floor to discuss the matter.   He was a little apprehensive about disturbing Al as he was controlling the nanites within Hawkeye manually.   “Can we talk without it disrupting what you're doing?

“This?”  Al said cheerily.  “Oh this is actually easy for me.   Ever since that little accident a few months ago where I had to transfer my consciousness to the bots to become a suit of armor because my body was in another dimension, I really fell like they're a part of me.  Controlling them is second nature at this point.”

Marcoh had just assumed the kid was really into cosplay or prepping for a renaissance festival during that week he was walking around like a knight.   There was a lot that happened in these halls that nobody really wanted to question.  “If you can make them anything you want, why did you pick that?”

“Well, our Dad used to collect vintage armor when we were kids and had them lining the walls of his study.  That's where Ed and I taught ourselves science.  That's also where Mom would bring us cookies and tell us how proud she was of us and since we were trying to bring her back I was thinking of those days.  She always smiled the most when we were in there.  That's how I remembered her.  So when I was being deconstructed and I quickly transferred myself to the nanites, I was already thinking about that time and place.  It was the first thing I thought of.”  Al smiled and then got more serious.  “Plus I had to be taller than my brother and that was the biggest human size specimen I had ever seen.”

“If these nanites are a part of you.” Knox finally interjected himself into the conversation.  He was blunt and that was what was needed or Marcoh was going to bring out the tea and cookies and start chatting about something else.   “What's going to happen when we neutralize them with the chelation process?”

“They're not fragile, they'll just go offline until I can set them in repair mode once they are back in their tank.  The chealors will bind to specific metals they are constructed of and disassemble them, they'll be partially broken down but nothing they can't fix themselves.  If anything they'll come out of this stronger and with more experience than before.”   Al said confidently.   “So Dr. Knox, please place a catheter and collection bag if you have not already.”

“Not without Mustang's approval.” Knox said and sat down next to his patient.   “First why don't you start by explain to me how you're going to avoid causing renal failure?”

“We're using a biological so that it will take time and collect the metals and deposit them in the kidneys so they can be processed like any other waste.”   Al said.   “I could program the nanites to do this themselves on a metered basis, but I would have something far more complex than the kidney's are prepared to hand.  That's why we're going with chelation because it will transfer control of the process back to a biological competent instead of a mechanical.   Nature can work in ways that mental I can't anticipate. “

“The chelators will bind to and break down the metals in the nanites themselves.”  Marcoh reiterated.  

“I get all that.”  Knox said dryly. “What about the virus?   The chelation process is going to destroy the carrier for the virus that we're counting on carrying it out of her system.  Removing it from the blood stream is only a first step, depositing an active virus in the excretory system is worse.”

“My nanites have mapped the strain we're dealing with.    We need an anti-viral to target them.”  Al replied.

“There we go.”  Knox opened his hands as they came back around to the missed step.  

“Oh, yeah.”  Al said and bit his lip.   “I guess we didn't talk about that.  I just assumed Dr. Marcoh was waiting on me to get him the profile of what we're dealing with so he could make something.”

“I was.”  Marcoh shrugged.  He had just assumed this was the route and he watched Knox mumble about 'fucking researcher' and 'I don't read minds'.   “I'm sorry Doctor.  We're used to working on our own and even in collaborations we leave each other to work on our respected specialties.   I don't think any of us would work with someone without knowing something about what that person could bring to the collaboration and respecting their ability to contribute to the process.”

“Right.”  Knox nodded.   “I'll sit over here and commiserate with my patient who has to deal with the repercussions of that way of thinking in her job and life every damned day.”

“I guess...” Al thought about it. Knox was just an ordinary doctor, even if he was exemplary.  He treated patients using the tests and technology they produced but he was an end game user.  “We should be better about explaining things but it's just not how we operate.”

“We honestly wouldn't work well together if we told each other what to do.   It usually devolves into a lot of yelling and not much progress.”  Marcoh mumbled.  “No offense, doctor.”

“None taken.”  Knox said.  “Just looking out for my patient.”

“I'll get to work.”  Marcoh said.   “I'll go to my lab.  Call me if you need anything.”

As Marcoh left, Ed and Roy returned.   Roy saw Marcoh was engrossed in his tablet and on a mission so he asked Al, “Is he off to make the anti-viral?”

“Yes.”  Al said sheepishly and Knox mumbled so more.  “Can I get your permission to have a collection bag placed?”

“I thought you would have done it already.”   Roy replied and Knox threw his hands up, cursed a little  and got up to leave.   He wasn't sure why he was upset but was pretty sure it had to do with being around scientist who liked to assume a lot of things and did not waste time explaining anything unless they wanted money or supplies.   “Did you check to see if there was any blood in the blood bank from Riza?  I know she donated a lot and we have at least one bag in storage from her annual physical which is required.”

“Nothing fresh.”   Knox said. “It's been a busy few months around here and you can understand why she only donates when there is downtime.”

“I do understand that completely.” Roy nodded.  42 days was still the standard for keeping fresh blood refrigerated.  They hadn't pushed those limits yet.

“We should have something frozen but I didn't want to pull that out in case we needed it.”  Knox replied.  “We have plenty fresh in her blood type.”

“Our storage facility is state of the art.”  Roy assured him.  “Dr. McDougal's advancements in freezing technology mean we can store frozen plasma way long that the conventional year.  In case you have your concerns.”

“Yeah, so I'm told.”  Knox replied.  “Thankfully I haven't had an occasion to need it since I've worked here.   One nice thing about dealing with scientists instead of soldiers.”

Al frowned and the doctor got up to leave and collect his necessary supplies.   Mustang looked over at him for an explanation and he quietly said, “I guess the whole anti-viral step wasn't obvious to everyone.”

“It was obvious, you doing something about it was not.”  Knox snapped right before he left and tried to slam the door.

“Sorry.”  Al called out after him.

“We're all a little stressed.”  Roy admitted.   Then he went back over to Riza and sat down.   He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.  “Once Marcoh makes the anti-viral we'll proceed with the chelation.   We'll have to give the anti-viral time to work, but if he's making it it should be extremely efficient.  He already knows the Xerxes virus since he made it, it's familiar territory and the hold up will just be the equipment producing what he needs.     Time will also give Riza a chance to take her body back from all this and once Knox gets back I think plasma will help.   Al, how are you doing?”

“I can keep this up all night.”  He assured him.

Roy reached over and took Riza's hand again, weaving his fingers between hers and gently squeezing.   “Ed, now that we have a profile of this pathogen we're dealing with, see if you can't do some digging and find out who made it.”

“I should be able to narrow it down by finding out who got an extra dose of Marcoh's Xerxes Vaccine.” Ed said and slid his laptop over.  “We are pretty good at monitoring who we distribute our products to, even if the government isn't.  Did you want to give me your access to....”

“No.”  Roy said and flashed a smile at him.  Give Edward Elric his password to gain complete access to everything this facility had on it's servers?   Ha!   “I'll send you the invoices. “

“We could just ask Dr. Marcoh.”  Al said.  “He'll know how many he made.”

“I think the good doctor feels bad enough about how this all turned out, let's not compounded it unless we have to.”  Roy said and took his phone out and opened up the app he used to keep track of billing.   He did a quick search and found the invoice in question and forwarded it to Ed.   “Knox pulled the records from her unit, did he leave those notes here?”

“Yeah, it's in the file.”  Ed gave an embarrassed grin.  “'Cause someone likes to share information, unlike us.”

“Occupational hazard.”  Roy said.   “He's over it, he just wants to make sure it doesn't keep happening.   We have to make sure we include him even though I know you all think he's just a doctor.”

Al sighed.  The superiority complexes and egos did get out of hand here where almost everyone could brag on multiple doctorates, and too often did.   Mustang and Ed were no exception and Al thought he was above that but he had been the one to offend Knox.   “It's not like a medical doctor is a lesser field of study or occupation.  We do respect him a lot.”

Roy knew that Knox was on edge, not just because of his patient, but because his own history as an army doctor had put him in the position to do some ethically questionable things while under orders.  This, the way they were approaching Riza's treatment, felt more like experimenting on a patient than saving her.   Roy knew that Knox would never say anything, he knew that wasn't the case, but he could see it in the Doctor's eyes when they bounced from solution to solution.    He understood for sure that there was no time to test, just react, but it didn't mean it felt right to him.   Both Knox and Riza were the same in that respect, they trusted instinct because their job was rooted in practice.   Roy and the other scientist saw practice as a sign of complacency, if something was already established it was meant to be reconstructed in some way to make it better.   There was no settling for how things were, it was always a process of moving forward especially because the results were uncertain. Science was about knowledge and pursing a greater truth, bending the rules of nature and shattering the standard practices because they had been established by scientists before them who failed to push boundaries any further than that.   Roy squeezed Riza's hand again, it drove her crazy that he would rush into the unknown with a grin on his face when she wanted to default to reconnaissance and defense until it was safe to proceed.  

“The order for the Xerxes vaccination was originally for a dozen doses.”  Ed reported.   “However Marcoh demanded blood samples from the Army so he could test the vaccine while also regulating how much he was sending out.    So each vaccine he made was labeled for a specific person to avoid a surplus. Comparing to the records Knox got from his Medical Corps contacts, there is an extra dose intended for a Private Mobuta Mobuo who was not in that unit.”

“Did you say Mobuta Mobuo?”  Knox asked as he returned with supplies.  

“Do you know him?”  Ed asked.

“Yeah, I made him up.”  Knox said and shook his head and walked over to his table to set his box down. He turned to see three surprised scientist and wished he could be satisfied with being the one to cause that reaction, but his own heart was pounding as a name from his past came back to haunt him.  

“I got the idea from an episode of M*A*S*H where they made up an officer in order to give his pay to an orphanage.   I created a fictional soldier who 'used' up a lot of supplies during my attempts to save him from injuries, which I instead sent to a pair of doctors who were treating patients from both sides in the war.   I had to 'kill' him in action in order to avoid having him promoted and given a medal of honor for as many times as I reported him being my 'patient'.”

“Dr. Knox, “  Al said with a hush whisper of awe.  “That's amazing.”

“Yeah, well someone brought him back from the dead and that's not a coincidence.”  Knox tried not to loose his cool but he was worried.   Not about himself, but because this was a sign someone was trying to eliminate a lot of loose ends.

“Don't worry Knox, apparently that happens a lot around here.”  Roy said and leaned back in his chair.    So this was as well orchestrated move on raven's part.    Knox would have done the autopsy if they didn't step in and save Riza from certain death.    Knox would be thorough, use all the resources available to him, and would eventually find traces of the Xerxes virus.    Then it would all play out like a scripted murder mystery: Eyes would turn to Marcoh for creating it, Roy would defend him and pull the invoice and they would be at this stage right now, asking who the hell Mobuta Mobuo was and why he wasn't real.   Blame would shift to Knox who created the fake personnel file and by the end of the day he would be in handcuffs heading to a military camp to await trail.    

“I got those doctors killed.”  Knox said and the three of them once again looked at him shocked.   He leaned on his patient's bed to support himself as the guilt of actions long ago ripped his heart out.   “The Rockbells.  They were good people.   They volunteered their services to a humanitarian medical organization that treated patients no matter who they were.   The army saw them as problem, putting enemy soldiers back on the front and replenishing numbers, so they would confiscate their supplies as contraband and try to dry up their resources.  They were heroes, real doctors without allegiance to anyone but patients, and when they were killed....I suspected it a bit too convenient of an ambush to be coincidence.”

Ed watched the doctor slump over further, weighted down by the guilt.   “That was not your fault!”

“I helped provide a trail of stolen supplies to their camp.”  Knox said.   “I gave them a reason to write off a murder as a 'tactical move'.”

“No.”  Roy said with a flat monotone that said there was absolutely no doubt in what he was saying.  “Raven bought himself a promotion in blood from that campaign.   His corruption runs deep and now he's trying to erase the evidence.   You and Hawkeye are both loved and respected soldiers, exiling both of you here was the only way he could ensure nobody asked questions about your disappearance from the ranks.   Being off the radar for so long, you've both lost contact with your original units and life has moved on.”

“Yeah, I don't have to have the obvious explained to me now, Mustang.”   Knox looked up at him.   “These eyes have seen a lot and I know a set up when I see it.  I also know I wasn't going to be seeing a trial.”  

“We can't let him get away with any of this Mustang!”  Ed said and slammed his fist into the table.   “This son of a bitch is losing sleep tonight because he's excited he's going to get this gift wrapped and delivered  to him like a present tomorrow.”

“He's underestimated us.”  Roy said and looked at Riza.   “So let's get back to work saving our Sheriff so she can have the pleasure of arresting him tomorrow.”

[worseandworser]

Idiosyncratic (2/2)

Ship: RoyEd

Summary: Ed ran his fingers over the papers, tracing the drafty lines with the tip of his nails. It was so different from Mustang’s handwriting; free and simple, almost as if he’d done it thoughtlessly. The doodles covered the back page of a badly printed document, that Ed supposed the man had mean to throw away and, instead of doing so, decided to sketch. Edward was no connoisseur of the fine arts but he could admit that the Colonel was a good drawer. Even if he had a few objections regarding the themes of these drawings.

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings/tags: artist!Roy, multichapter (2/2), possibly humorous, Ed is 18 in my head always since that’s my current age but Alphonse is still in armor form, so in case this bothers you be warned of… teen?

you can read this at my ao3 profile as well!

Hawkeye took a day off.

Edward had always thought that whenever something like that happened, the office would immediately turn into chaos. He’d never been around before to experience it, considering it was such a rare occurrence and Ed traveled consistently. Actually, it was so rare that sometimes he wondered if it wasn’t just a myth, another one of Breda’s tales.

But apparently it did happen, and Edward was now a witness as well. Surprisingly, the office was still functional in general; the main change laid on the atmosphere.

The room acquired this casual air. Jean Havoc yawned a lot and sometimes whistled while doing his job. Breda could eat on duty, not minding the crumbles falling on the documents. Mustang left his inner office exile to occupy Hawkeye’s desk, with his own papers spread over the area as if he owned it. Kain Fuery, who had been sharing his table with Edward for today, chugged coffee down as if it was water and hummed popular songs. The only who appeared to be unaffected was Falman, but his shoulders had a slight slump denouncing that he too felt more relaxed.

However, the work took the double time to get finished because they talked. And it was awful because the report was boring, so Ed couldn’t even properly focus and tune the noise out.

The ones doing the most of it were Heymans and Jean. At some points of the conversation, Edward just wanted to smack them in the head — they kept talking about girls and, honestly, who the fuck cared if Claire had a nice ass? Mustang sometimes chimed in, offering a few comments himself, and Breda rolled his eyes when those were too formidable.

At the moment, the topic was who-could-make-Kain-more-uncomfortable and — although it started with heavy sexual innuendos — it now involved Jean Havoc loudly cracking his spine. Each snap of joints brought out another hiss from the poor Sergeant. Breda decided to twist his eyelids upwards, and Edward was sure Kain would be passing out at any moment. Vato scowled at Mustang, who couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the blond second-lieutenant twisting on the chair.

"When I was a kid,” said Breda, “I could dislocate my shoulder and put it back.”

Falman frowned, "That’s not very healthy.”

"Who cares? I bet I could make Kain throw up with that.”

“You guys are so mean,” the man in question sighed resignedly, dropping his head on the table next to Edward’s arm, “Why can’t you just mind your own business like Edward?”

Ed’s head snapped up, forgetting completely about the report he was writing. Four pairs of eyes on him and, fuck, all he’s ever wanted to do was write his damn shit down; now, he had to deal with that. He didn’t even have time to voice a word before Jean laughed.

”Yo, boss, I’m sure you can do a lot of freaky stuff too, uh.”

Kain went three shades paler and Ed rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, so what?”

”What kind?,” interjected Breda, sounding way too interested.

He could have said many things. I can touch my ear with my foot or I can move my nose like a fucking bunny. Or something else, really, he could do many ‘freaky stuff’. But the Colonel was looking at him; that stupid eyebrow quirked up in amusement and Ed felt the sudden urge to wipe the floor with that expression. He stared at Mustang dead in the eye and announced in the most casual way possible:

”I can do a full split.”

The brow went down in record time. Breda let out an impressed whistle and Kain jumped back to a sitting position.

”For real...?,” Havoc inquired, squinting his eyes at him, “I don’t believe you.”

Edward shrugged, “Whatever.”

ask me to do it ask me to do it holy shit just ask me to do it

”Do it!,” dared Breda.

Edward sighed, groaning as if the simple request was the most tiresome ordeal. Fuery’s mood improved significantly with the prospect of witnessing the blond doing a split, and Ed had to count that as another pro.

He stood up and got rid of the red coat, slowly stretching his arms above his head as he looked around for good spot. The area right in front of Hawkeye’s — currently, Mustang’s — desk was clean and Ed couldn’t be luckier. Oh, the visual the Colonel would get... The man would be doing anatomic sketches on that for weeks.

”You’re not really going to do it, right?”

Mustang’s voice — so confused, majestically thrown out of balance — only encouraged him further. The monster inside of Ed’s belly wanted that bafflement to reach his features; or maybe just to soften his eyes a little bit, make him look at Ed the same way he did before the stupid assignment on the west. He positioned himself in the middle of the room.

"Is this against one of your stupid rules, Colonel?”

He began slowly spreading his legs, and the exclamations rose around him.

Roy offered him a stern look, “Fullmetal”

And Ed gracefully slid down to the floor, one foot in front of him and the other behind. It was flawless, obviously, he’d done this countless times before; he did enjoy pushing his body to its very limit. Then, just because, he threw his head back, curling his spine in an audacious stretch, and yawned.

”You little shit!,” exclaimed Breda right before turning to Havoc, “I knew he could do it!”

Edward wanted so bad to look at Mustang’s face. Anxiousness coiled in his stomach and the heat prickled from his ears down to his neck. He closed his legs and stood up. With a hammering heart, he finally turned to look at the man—

—who was reading the paperwork and tapping his pen against the desk.

His stomach dropped like a stone, the dread settled deep into his guts. The others kept going on and on about Ed’s flexibility like it was something otherworldly, and Roy for the first time today seemed to completely ignore the chatter. Head lowered and eyes stuck to the printed words; if it was all an act, it was a damn good one.

Edward went back to his place next to Kain, trying his best to smile at whatever supposedly funny thing Jean had just said. As he sat, he risked one more glance at the man: he had a frown and Ed could only hope it was from concentration and not annoyance.

When Ed had no missions, the brothers dedicated themselves to their search. The library became their home and they devoured the books, piling up notes and sources. Edward lived for those periods, when he could spend days in a row doing what he and Alphonse loved the most.

His concentration was not at its peak these days, though. He had been doing his best to hide it from Alphonse, mostly to avoid the tricky questions that would probably get to confess things he didn’t really want to. Whenever his mind started wandering too much, he would drop the book he was reading and grab another, simple as that. If Al thought anything of the unusual dynamic studying, he certainly didn’t voice it.

But Edward did not need his brother to see that things were only worsening. He could tell when the last straw was there, and this time it was insomnia.

It wasn’t like it had never happened to him before. However, the nightmares were not the main issue. His dreams were fine — actually, Edward couldn’t remember having finer ones — and what bothered him was exactly that. Some would make his skin burn and his body tremble, leave his lungs spasming in soft pants. He would open his eyes deliriously, reaching out for pale skin that wasn’t really there.

The others were rarer, but their bare existence made Edward squirm in loathing. These were the worst: they made him hurt in the wrong places, and the pain could not be quelled by a cold shower. He despised them and loved them equally, even though he would never admit to the last. And he could never, not after waking up mid-smile trying to press himself further into the mattress.

That was the last straw. He need— he needed, no idea what it was that he needed but he did and in the end it’s all that matters.

A week after the “full split incident”, he went to Mustang’s office.

Hawkeye had even commented that Edward willingly coming to headquarters was a delightful surprise, which probably meant that she was astounded with the action. Breda tried to make him join a bet for a free lunch, but since Ed knew better than to bet anything with the redhead, he just laughed and made his way to the inner room.

He realized a bit too late that this had been an awful idea.

Mustang eyed him up and down from between the stacks of files. It was so, so quick, and yet it made all these tiny needles prickle his skin. He stood by the door, waiting. A word, an order, a joke about his stature, anything. The Colonel gave him nothing.

Ed cleared his throat, attempting to get the man’s attention.

“Fullmetal,” the voice was like a low rumble, “I don’t recall requesting your presence.”

The tone was dull. Dull, dull, dull, and Roy had never, ever spoken to him like that. Edward caught himself recoiling, pressing against the wooden surface behind him like a cornered animal.

“I— uh, I’ve been wondering if…”

He closed his hands in tight fists, carving cuts like crescent moons on his palm. That’s not like him. That’s not like Mustang, yes, but most importantly that’s not like him. He’s not shy or meak and he was not going to become any of these things because a stupid man was not looking at him. Oh, so Mustang was pissed? Well, than Ed would make him more pissed.

“I want a mission.”

He didn’t. Not really. And he was certain that would not be the first lie he would be telling today.

“I don’t have an assignment fit for your abilities at the moment, Major,” he explained, “Maybe you could use this break to move forward with your alchemical research.”

“I need a mission because I’m supposed to move forward, damn it,” Ed snapped, “Central has nothing for us.”

Lies. Lies, lies, and lies.

Their conversation was punctuated by the soft scratch scratch of Mustang’s signature. Edward was sure he had never seen the man this concentrated on his work before.

“There must be a section in the library you and your brother have not ravished yet.”

look at me look at me why the fuck aren’t you looking at me

Edward crossed his arms even though the Colonel could not see the irritation radiating from his body language, “Or you can stop being a bastard and give me some shit to do.”

scratch scratch scratch

“Fullmetal, I already said that I have nothing for you,” he calmly stated, “Stop trying to blame me for your lack of progress. Dismissed.”

Edward’s jaw fell open.

“What the fuck are you—”

“I said dismissed, Fullmetal.”

The man was still leafing through the paperwork and Ed couldn’t understand a thing anymore. He was torn between frustration and bafflement, his face heating up even if he didn’t feel embarrassed at all. His hands trembled; he had never wanted so bad to disappear and at the same time beg to just be noticed.

“Blaming you for my lack of progress?!,” he gritted his teeth, seething, “Seriously, all I did was fucking ask—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the pen falling from the Flame Alchemist’s fingers. Or better yet, of it being thrown on the desk. Roy pressed his face against his palms, taking a deep breath and then running a hand through his hair. His eyes finally settled on Ed, and the dark circles under them made him look thoroughly worn-out.

“And I said I have no assignments for you,” he insisted, “Now, please, leave.”

He sounded forlorn as if Ed’s simple presence could exhaust him to his very limit. Edward’s chest tightened painfully and he just wanted to get out of this goddamned room, to leave the weight behind. And at the same time he wanted to come closer — to pull closer, to comfort, even if all the misery had been caused by him.

Ed opened his mouth to protest, but the sounds died before reaching his tongue.

“You were the one who said that if I wanted you out, I should just ask,” he whispered, shoulders slumping slightly, “Please, Edward.”

The blond gave him a curt nod and left.

Ed was in an undeniable bad mood, to the point that Alphonse could obviously sense it. Adding that to an alluring Sunday morning and the younger Elric had the perfect excuse for a break. A well-deserved one. And thus, they decided to go to the best place to appreciate a warm day: the park.

Alphonse was thrilled with the prospect of spending the day “having fun” with his older brother. Edward couldn’t quite understand why it was so much different from studying together, but apparently, the change of environment meant a lot to Al. The young alchemist had to go along with it, follow the younger around the trees and bushes. As Alphonse alternated between petting dogs and making scientific observations about random plants, Edward was disturbed by a different type of cold.

It was overwhelming. Coiled in the pit of the stomach and steadily spreading over his body like a disease. What was this…? Edward frowned at nothing particularly, drained and confused. The world seemed to keep going, but Ed felt stuck on the previous page, unable to take a step in any direction.

He shivered as he remembered the harsh words from yesterday. He’d been replaying his conversation with Mustang in his head over and over again. A ridiculous attempt to understand the exact moment he had slipped, when things had turned sour and… opaque.

Because that was the word, right? Roy’s eyes had been opaque.

Or maybe it was all in his head. Maybe he had read too much into the whole thing; their involvement and those fucking drawings. He should have never looked at the stupid things, just some random sketches that had probably been done without thought. Kicking a rock out of his way, Ed wondered how long it would take for him to completely bury this gnawing sensation.

“Stop trying to blame me for your lack of progress.”

Edward wanted to hit something. Or himself, perhaps. He could not afford to be like this — moping, whining, mourning for something that had never been alive, to begin with. Clenching his fists, he made his decision: to hell with Mustang. To hell with his artistic shit. To hell with the furtive glances and the licking lips and the churning stomach. Fuck Roy Mustang and all the unprofessional feelings that had wormed their way into their professional relationship.

They were nothing but a subordinate and a pathetic excuse of a commanding officer. And it ended there.

Alphonse broke his chain of thought by loudly pointing:

“Look, Brother! That dog over there looks like Black Hayate!”

The small animal was loose and came bouncing in the boy’s direction, Alphonse’s arms stretching instantly offering pets. As leather fingers excitedly threaded through black fur and the short tail wagged excitedly, Ed’s attention turned to the figure approaching them with an empty leash.

Edward smiled and waved, “I think that is Black Hayate, Al.”

He almost didn’t recognize her. Riza Hawkeye in comfortable civilian clothes and loose hair, step with a relaxed sway that Edward had never expected to see. But she still stood firmly, and Ed would not risk taking her for granted — Riza was The Hawk’s Eye and he was sure she could be alert and dangerous even if she wasn’t intending to.

“Miss Hawkeye!” exclaimed Alphonse, “Isn’t it dangerous to let Hayate like this?”

“Not really, he’s a smart dog,” she smiled, pulling a straying strand of blond hair behind her ear, “It’s nice to see you two out here.”

Alphonse beamed, “Yes! It took me a lot but I finally convinced Brother to take a break…”

At that point, Edward was drifting off again. It wasn’t that the conversation was tremendously boring — although mundane stuff was often exactly that — but he just had other things to do. Such as being angry at Roy Mustang.

Or at himself. It was Ed’s fault, in the end. He couldn’t stop listing ‘what if’s — what if he had never looked at the drawings, what if he hadn’t let Roy’s glances mess him up that much, what if he had never tried to test the man’s limits. Ridiculous, useless thoughts — but he had them anyway.

The blond felt a tremor run up and down his arms and he wanted to punch himself. How could he turn into this because of a crush, dammit?! Ed had been sure nothing would ever happen, what had changed his mind in the past week?

i want him to keep looking at me

Edward sighed. Hawkeye was staring at him with a funny expression, and he could guess he'd been a bit loud.

Alphonse was obviously going to question, and the woman intervened, “Alphonse, I brought a toy for Black Hayate, why don’t you throw it for him?”

The helmet alternated between Riza and the older sibling, and Al accepted his fate with few protests, “Ugh, I’m not a kid, you don’t need to push me away for grown up talks…”

Edward’s indignant snort was completely ignored by the younger. Alphonse took the toy from the lieutenant hands and called for Black Hayate, who gladly followed the clanking armor.

The instant they were out of hearing range, she turned to Ed; her brows held a determined frown and she pressed her lips together in what Ed assumed was worry.

“If not him, then you,” she breathed out, “What happened yesterday?”

“What the—”

“Edward, you left the office looking miserable,” Edward looked down and something told him that Riza had averted her gaze as well, “And his mood turned... bad.”

He straightened up at that, “His mood…?”

“The Colonel’s, of course.”

Riza had said that as if it was already obvious. Common knowledge she had no idea how could Ed have missed. It wasn’t, Ed was pretty sure of that.

“He hasn’t really been on his best for the past week,” explained her, “He’s been working too much, and that usually means he is trying to take his mind off something.

“And then, after your visit, he stopped functioning altogether… He kept glancing at the clock nonstop, I had to hide away the important papers because he spilled coffee all over his desk twice,” palming her temples in distress, she sighed tiredly, “You see, I have serious reasons to believe he was having a mental breakdown.”

Edward frowned, “And that was after I left yesterday?”

Riza nodded.

“I still don’t get what I have to do with it.”

“I have suspicions, but I thought you should be the one to tell me that.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s dramatic,” shrugging, the lieutenant crossed her arms, “And he has the tendency to blow things out of proportion and wallow in self-hatred. Both of you do, actually, but it’s easier to get you to talk because you're blunt.”

“The fuck you mean with—”

“I mean,” she cut him, “That I’m worried about you, and I want to help you two to sort things out.”

Edward raised his arms in frustration.

“And I’m telling you I have no idea of what’s happening! It’s not like I get him either!”

“You look like shit, he looks like shit,” insisted Riza, “and I’m sure if you two would just sit down and talk like the adults you pretend to be, everything would—”

“Stop talking as if I can change his bad mood, that makes no fucking sense! You’re the one who said he’s like that because of me! Mustang hates me!”

“That’s not true, Edward,” said she with much conviction, “And you know that already.”

It shouldn’t be that easy to want to talk to Mustang. Minutes ago, Ed would have sworn to never even think about the bastard, nevermind talking to him; he shoved his hands inside of his pants' pockets and looked down. Did she know? About the glances, the oddly cold thing buzzing around them every time they spoke? If Alphonse did already — maybe not the depth of it, but the fact they existed — nothing stopped someone as perceiving as Hawkeye to read through him. Still, it did not excuse the sudden urge he had to tell her. She understood Mustang better than him, had known him for a longer time and he could ask her.

Except that he couldn’t, right…?

“Hey, don’t act as if it’s the end of the world.”

His eyes found hers the exact moment she placed a hand on his shoulders, fondness curving her lips upwards in a warm but still contained smile. Edward blinked in surprise, not used to such personal contacts with the Lieutenant.

“Just promise me you will try, okay? I’m sure if you talk, you’ll be able to forgive him.”

Ed snorted, “why’d you assume he’s the wrong one here?”

Riza looked at him apologetically, the smile growing a bit as if compensating for a further comfort she couldn’t offer.

“Because he usually is.”

It took him a total of five days to gather the courage to approach Mustang. Two of them were Alphonse nagging him about his conversation with the lieutenant, and the remaining three were Alphonse nagging him to keep his promise with the lieutenant. All five of them included low concentration on daily tasks and staring off into the distance with a melancholic expression.

He hit the dead end of procrastination at Friday night, laying on his bed at the dorms with Alphonse nagging — he couldn’t handle it anymore, his patience had hit its limit. Ed screamed, groaned, twisted and turned, while Al rolled figurative eyes.

“Fine!” he had screamed, “I’ll go and talk to him today if that makes you shut up about it!”

“Brother, it’s Friday night,” the younger Elric had calmly advised, “if you go now it will only add more drama to your current drama.”

But Ed had already stormed out without glancing back.

It took him a few blocks to remember he didn’t know where Roy lived and a wave of relief washed through him. Even if postponing the encounter meant dealing with Alphonse for a few more days.

Wandering through the streets, however, proved to be a highly effective way to avoid going back to pestering little brothers. The breeze chilled the night; not enough to dishevel Edward's hair, but to feel a bit like soft caresses whenever it touched his skin. The area around the dorms was mostly residential, only from time to time, one could spot movement — a car honking, drunken men going back to their homes, occasional gossiping meetings. Ed knew though, that if you walked enough, you could find the nightlife of Central.

The city was known for more than being the capital. If you listened to talks — which Ed did, and that meant only that he was interested in keeping up with the social events and nothing more — you would know. The four soldiers talking about the recently opened bar, the man looking at a suspicious ad on an alley, the women commenting about the new show house… If there was one thing that Edward liked about Central, was how the city never truly slept. Somewhere, there was someone doing something.

It made the environment feel like an unstoppable machine, like an alchemical array being constantly injected with energy.

As soon as he stepped into the night hub, the collective euphoria hit him like a punch. Rows and rows of bars, clubs, pubs and other questionable places, filled with the most variant faces Central could offer. And the best of it: Edward could pick any of them.

Strolling through the sea of tables invading the sidewalk, Ed checked the clientele of each establishment. He wasn’t exactly looking for a drink, but rather a spot he could waste time in. The thought of going back to Alphonse after failing the Mustang Situation seemed pathetic; maybe he could grab some food before resigning himself to the endless mocking.

A hand curled around his forearm, and Ed had the metal fist ready to break a nose—

—until he found the ridiculously black eyes.

“What the fuck, Mustang?,” he pulled his arm away, “You scared the hell outta me! I was going to punch you, you idiot!”

The man blinked, incredulous.

“Do you have the habit of punching people who approach you?”

“If they come creeping from behind, yes!”

"I wasn’t creeping...," followed by a mumbled an apology.

The blond rolled his eyes, “What do you even want?”

i thought you’d never want to talk to me again

“ I just— well, I was enjoying a drink at that nice bar around the corner when you, how can I say…” he raised his brows, the beginning of smile showing on the corners of his lips, “Stepped inside for around 3 seconds and then ran out?”

Edward felt the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I was just checking the place.”

“Oh, and I assume it didn’t satisfy your exquisite tastes?”

The young alchemist stared at him. A long, critical stare; analyzing and over analyzing the man’s features, assessing the information hidden there. It was a light tone, playful even, as if Roy was making one of the infamous short jokes or maybe… was that flirting? Or was it to familiar to be? Ed had no idea. A few days ago Roy sounded as if he’d wanted to get rid of Ed for good and now this?

Feeling as if walking on crystal bridge over a ferocious river, he smirked.

“It can’t be that good, I mean, you like it, uh?”

Roy made a face and Edward could swear he heard the floor was cracking.

Then the sound of laughter overcame it.

“That’s a fairly good point,” the man said, a bit breathlessly, “I must give that to you.”

And the conversation died at that, leaving two men standing in the middle of Central’s loudest street. Their eyes locked, and for a few seconds, Edward saw that lurking exhaustion within the Colonel’s irises.

“Fullmetal, I—”

“We need to talk.” Edward blurted out.

Then all scraps of emotion were hidden again.

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, “we probably should.”

Edward glanced at the people around them, “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Understanding, Roy arched his brows and motioned for Ed to follow him.

Mustang lived in an apartment. Which was completely unexpected, since Edward had always thought of him as the ‘opulent townhouse’ type — although he had to admit the ‘bachelor cave’ one also fit.

It was simple. Not large, not small, not decorated, not empty, too average. The lack of personality gave the impression it was inhabited by a person living a rushed, unstable life, as if Mustang could just up and leave at any moment. However, it did not felt uncomfortable; not precisely cozy, but familiar. Like a coffee shop you frequent so much, that the seat in the corner has your butt’s shape or something like that.

The only remarkable aspects were two empty bottles of whiskey on the coffee table, and Ed didn’t really want to think about those. Roy got rid of them pretty quickly.

Edward sat on the very far end of the couch, and Roy took the other corner. He felt like an intruder, invading the other’s space like this. The Flame Alchemist had his head lowered, looking at the hands on his lap.

“So,” Roy started.

“So.”

Silence.

“Did Hawkeye…?”

“No.”

The man eyed Ed.

“Maybe a little,” muttered the blond, embarrassed, “And Alphonse too but you could’ve guessed that.”

“What would we be without them, really…”

Edward snorted, “I don’t know about me, but you’d be a total slacker.”

A strained laugh. And silence.

Lots of silence.

Roy sighed and finally raised his head, changing his position to seat tuned to Edward. The blond wasn’t very fond of the idea of getting any closer to the other, so he just relaxed a little, laying his weight back against the cushions.

The words he wished to say kept coming and going, never staying long enough in his mind to be spoken. He didn’t have a whole speech planned, but the outlines of what he ought to talk about had been pretty defined. Or at least, before he actually got to the point he had to actually talk. Taking a deep breath, he tried to form a single sentence that could actually be spoken, but Roy beat him to it:

“I should probably apologize.”

Ed’s eyes widened, “Wh—”

“I was rude with you when you went to my office,” he rubbed his nape and Edward saw the fingers tugging at the short hair there, “These days have been a mess but that’s not justifiable, I’m sorry for lashing out on you that way.”

“It’s fine, really, you were pretty tired back then,” crossing his arms, the young alchemist uneasily attempted to seem more comfortable, “Actually, you still look like sh— uh, tired.”

“Seriously?”

Edward looked at him. At those crumpled clothes and stubble and the slightly messier than usual hair. Roy’s fingers kept twitching and his back was too straight for someone who had just come from a casual night out at a bar.

“Yeah, you have these bags under your eyes and shit.”

Roy chuckled dryly, “I slept a reasonable amount of time last night, thought they would be gone by now.”

Edward thought this was a nice moment to try to get a bit closer. So he did, too aware of the cushions shifting underneath him and the piercing gaze to his side.

“Hm, so, Colon—”

Or better yet:

“Roy, is everything alright?”

The man frowned.

“I need you to be more specific.”

“With you,” and then quietly: “With us.”

Understanding flashed over Roy’s features — only to be immediately replaced by pain. He winced, and Ed’s body slumped a bit in response.

“That depends more on you.”

Edward shivered.

“I know you said it was fine,” he continued, “but there’s something else I should apologize for.”

With a deep, shuddering breath Roy let his head fall on top of the backrest, in a way that allowed to keep looking at Edward straight in the eyes.

“A while ago, I noticed a few… changes on your behavior,” Roy smiled and Ed could swear it was because of the blush attacking his cheeks once again, “And although it was pleasing initially, it became a bit uncomfortable.”

Oh, thought Ed, so this is what being dumped feels like.

“Not only because of the risks it brought for both us, but also because it made really happy,” he grimaced, “And I thought you were playing with my feelings.”

Ed’s jaw dropped.

“What feelings?”

Roy snapped back to a sitting position and raised his hand, “Wait, I’m getting there.”

Turning to the man, Edward squinted his eyes at him.

“So, I spent the past days reflecting a lot on our— what, relationship? And about you as well, and came to the conclusion that you’re not that type at all.”

The laugh that left Edward’s lips could convey many emotions: relief, disbelief, hysteria, the strong desire to smack Roy in the face.

“Are you telling me the reason why you made Hawkeye’s life hell was because you thought I was playing with your fucking feelings?”

“Also, I think I may be in love with you.”

Edward choked, “In love?! What the— How the fuck was I supposed to know that?! All I did was see some fucking drawings!”

“You saw my drawings?!” Roy gasped, “I can’t believe it, they are mine!”

“Then you shouldn’t just leave them all over your desk!”

“I’ll leave them however I want, you’re not supposed to look through my things! And what do my sketches have to do with you coming to work—” he pressed his temples, annoyance clear in the previously tired features, “Throwing your hair over your shoulder like a character from a novel or…”

Edward let out an outraged uh?, forgetting completely about the past hesitancy and kneeling on the cushions to get closer to the man. He was angry, he was seething… All the time he’d lost thinking about the bastard, all the nights awake, all the food he didn’t eat, because he was worried about Roy!

“You are drawing me!”

“And what’s wrong with that? I think you are beautiful so of course I’m going to try to draw you! You want me to stop, I’ll stop, but you should try asking me instead of—”

“Why are you like this?!" Ed grabbed Roy by the lapels and pulled him down.

He was so shocked by his own actions he barely moved. Shaking from head to toes, he could feel Roy’s warmth and he ached to snuggle on it, let it calm his pondering heart. However, he was afraid of Roy’s reaction — in love in love in love — and it was a shitty kiss.

But then Roy was kissing back and it wasn’t that shitty anymore.

In a blink, Ed was on the man’s lap. He had no idea how he’d gotten there, and at this point, he wasn't that interested in finding out — although it probably had something to do with the hands under his thighs. Roy was tugging him closer by the legs and Ed went compliantly like a rag doll, grip tightening on the shirt’s fabric. The shirt—, it was on the way, stealing Roy’s heat from Ed, who was without doubt its rightful owner.

He got tired of the stupid piece of cloth and moved to the closest patch of skin he could find: the neck. Trying to touch as much as possible, Edward stretched his fingers and thumbed the beginning of stubble right under the man’s chin, the rough touch sending shivers down his spine. Roy Mustang Roy Mustang I am kissing Roy Mustang.

Roy’s tongue slid against his once, twice, thrice, and when Ed finally found his way into his mouth, Roy nipped softly the muscle making the blond buck. Too fast, too much, and Ed couldn’t breathe. A pair of hands gripped his hips and pulled him down hard and Edward whimpered; the low hummed sound that answered him made all his muscles spasm deliciously.

Roy pulled back and why?

“Does that mean everything is alright between us?”

“What the fuck, Mustang?”

“I need to be sure.”

“What makes you— yes, you dumb asshole, now can we—”

“Is it okay if I continue drawing you?”

He stared at Roy, stared into his eyes. The dark, dark path inside of them that lit up in flames when Ed was around. There was just so much inside of them — and Edward might just be the one that could see a part of it.

“If it’s you, then I guess it is.”

[parentalfma]

do you guys know of any parental fics that involve mustang/riza/team mustang saving ed and/or al from some kind of danger or bad situation? im craving some Angsty Shit 😤

Sure do!! Many of these may have torture mention, all will have warning! 

Buried–Al is dead. Suicide attempt.

Dollmaker–A serial killer from Roy’s past has one last surprise before he’s executed as a parting gift for the Colonel. Torture tw.

Fever–Edward is getting sick and goes on a mission he wasn’t assigned. Colonel Mustang is not happy when he finds out. Illness mention. 

Gold From Lead–There were whispers. There was absolutely no way to stop them. Ed would rip out his spleen if he knew what all those people were insinuating about the two of them.

Light At the End of the Tunnel–While in pursuit of a wanted criminal, Edward and Roy end up in the sewer system below Central. Things quickly take a turn for the worst.

Foul Depths–A killer is loose in Central and an already injured Edward is caught up in the whole mess… whether he likes it or not. Torture mention. Sequels include drug use.

Number Twenty Eight–As of today, Edward Elric had been missing for four months, two weeks, and five days. Torture mention. Chimerism. Sequel is Snow!

Stairway to Paradise–Post saving but very angsty!! Ed has been MIA for months, and when Roy finally finds him, he is blind and more than just physically injured. With the State honorably discharging him, and no father to speak of, Roy has no choice but to care for the boy and try to put the pieces back together. Torture mention.

The Tales and Tails of Elric–Edward went on a mission to investigate missing soldiers, little did he know, he was going to become the next target. Missing for six months, Roy finally finds him in his aunt’s bar of all places, but something is different. It is now up to them to get him back to normal and find out what happened to all those soldiers. Chimerism. Torture mention.

What He Feared the Most–Roy didn’t particularly see himself as a protective man, but when the Fuhrer takes his threats too far, Roy will find something within himself he never imagined was possible.

Whiteout–When the train to Central is delayed due to weather, Ed decides to walk the rest of the way. As the freezing weather blows in, Ed and Al are forced to face an unsettled issue of their past and Roy becomes an unsuspecting witness to a chink in Ed’s armor.

Without Flinching–Shortly after Edward gains his State Alchemist title, he’s already run into trouble. It’s not even been half of a year yet, and already, terror has arrived on Mustang’s desk, in the form of an old walkie-talkie, and a note, saying, “You have 24 hours.” There’s a new threat in the East, and apparently, he wants to play a game. With all of them.

Your Son–“I’m not your father. It’s not fair that you can affect me this much.” A military function becomes a nightmare when Ed accidentally takes a poisoned drink meant for Roy.

“Happy” reading!

[islandhaunted-a]

aiight fam! there’s been a massive bio update to accommodate exactly how my version of oliver is canon-divergent. i generally follow the plot of canon. i’m going to give you some highlights of things to know, but the full bio is under the cut and also added to the ‘about’ tab on my theme, which has updated relationships as well. so: sparknotes version, which now that i’m looking at it still looks like a Lot lmao:

thea has a twin sister named jessica ( as portrayed by @ownhcros ). this is always part of my canon from here on out unless writing with a character related to the queens with a mun who isn’t comfortable with this. however, i will always default to jessica existing, so if you are writing a character who would be affected by this, let me know in advance if you’re uncomfortable! i will not seek out people individually to ask for their permission. this is part of my portrayal of oliver.

oliver’s canon timeline remains mostly unchanged prior to his time in the bratva. however, while in russia, he met petra solano ( as portrayed by @petrasplaining​ ), with whom he eventually develops a long, serious relationship. they part ways in russia and he continues to star city, where he becomes the hood. season one canon is mainly untouched. in season 2, however, things begin to change. he still would have slept with isabel and sara during the season, although he would not have kissed felicity / become involved with her at all. ( this means from here on out, unless plotted or discussed, i will not acknowledge any past relationship between oliver and felicity. )

during the hiatus between seasons 3 & 4, rather than parading around the world with felicity, oliver was settling down in miami, staying with petra at the marbella. he still would have been brought back by his sisters & laurel, and from there, once again, the season remains fairly intact, although obviously without all of the ol.icity stuff. season 5 is fabulous as it is. although oliver would not have dated susan williams — they just would have gotten close as friends tbh. like ?? a night out to dinner and he talks about his girlfriend in miami and susan totally supports that & him and they’re bffs bc i love her and i will fight anyone for her.

season 6 ?? i obviously can’t speak to about the season as a whole. i’ve only caught like a third of the episodes thus far, tbh, although once again the ol.icity stuff is not present on this blog. oliver doesn’t make a big huge public deal abt his relationship w/ petra, but he is with her. she and william have met and are working on their relationship. petra was oliver’s date to barry’s wedding.  

born to robert and moira queen, for the first ten years of his life, oliver was an only child. parents rich entrepreneurs, he was spoiled and received everything he wanted. at the age of ten, he was given a gift he never asked for, but needed nonetheless: born unto his parents were twins thea and jessica queen. though he saw less and less of his parents and the change was difficult, he loved his sisters with his whole heart. growing up, oliver became fiercely protective of his sisters, but that didn’t stop him from ruining his teen years with binge drinking, experimental drugs, and sex.

despite entering a seemingly committed relationship with laurel lance, daughter of a detective, oliver continued sleeping around. he impregnated a woman named samantha clayton and even became involved with laurel’s sister, sara. when laurel brought up the idea of them moving in together, oliver freaked out and decided to go on a three week trip with his father on their boat. however, he invited sara to come along with them. the gambit crashed in the north china sea and oliver was forced to watch his father die before he luckily washed up on the shores of an island.

that, oliver quickly discovered, was where his good luck ended and the worst luck of his life began. the island he found himself on was called lian yu and it was purgatory in many ways. starving, he was taken care of by a man named yao fei, only to be captured and tortured by edward fyers for information oliver refused to give. this led to a companionship between oliver and yao fei, as well as eventually a friendship with slade wilson and yao fei’s daughter — shado. after dealing with fyers, the island presented the group with a new threat.

anthony ivo, captain of the amazo, came to the island in search of a miracle drug left behind by a vessel from world war ii. the search for mirakuru resulted in shado’s death and, fueled by the mirakuru, an angry slade wilson took it upon himself to get revenge on oliver. though oliver wanted to go home, he was picked up by argus and shipped to hong kong to work a mission for them. there, he was unable to stop the exposure of the alpha-omega virus and was forced to carry the guilt of a young boy’s death.

still hoping to go home, he was frustrated by amanda waller’s manipulation of him into a new mission back on lian yu. infiltrating shadowspire, he managed to take down reiter & his men from the inside at the expense of his new friend taiana’s life. following the mission, he traveled to russia to find her mother. old friend anatoly took him in and helped him become bratva in order to take down a man named konstantin kovar. 

the initiation process took time and led to a lot of blood, sweat, and tears on oliver’s part. during any time he spent not training or actively fighting, he and anatoly could often be found together in a bar. there, he met natalia. though at first he anticipated their meeting being inconsequential, she found out he was the hood. and that he was killing for the bratva. still, he finished his mission, leaving her alive because she posed no genuine threat to him. from there, oliver went back to lian yu where he was picked up by a fishing vessel and finally brought home.

reunited with his mother and sisters, oliver struggled to adapt to the life he once lived and often disappeared to be on his own. following being kidnapped, oliver became a vigilante arbitrarily given the title the hood. bodyguard john diggle & it expert felicity smoak were eventually recruited to work with him. when he was unable to stop the undertaking, he spent a few months back on lian yu, only dragged back home by the very two partners he chose.

while taking care of queen consolidated, oliver ran into a businesswoman from miami. petra solano. once known as natalia, he remembered her instantly and he didn’t need to tell her that he was starling city’s vigilante. familiar with his time in the bratva, she would have already known. the two worked past the initial awkwardness and became friends. not too long after, petra became temporarily radio silent, though oliver was far too busy dealing with mirakuru soliders to give it much thought. however, when he discovered her silence was not by choice of her own but instead because — in a telenovela twist — she was petrified by her twin sister, anezka, who took over as petra for a little while... at least he had one friend who had drama that wasn’t his fault.

still, after the fiasco with anezka, oliver made it a point to take care of petra and keep a closer eye on her, even from across the country. the two steadily grew closer and oliver made it out to miami to see her at every opportunity. unfortunately for them, after the siege, starling city was a wreck. queen consolidated was bought by ray palmer. oliver lost his job. his home. his money. outside of the island, it was the hardest he ever had to work to keep himself afloat. oliver became the target of the league of assassins after he assumed responsibility for sara lance’s death — to cover up the fact that malcolm merlyn, via oliver’s sister thea, killed sara.

a duel with ra’s al ghul himself led to oliver’s apparent death and month-long disappearance. when he came back, barely intact, everything was just how he left it: nine shades of shit. plotting quietly with malcolm, oliver left to join the league of assassins. one pit stop before nanda parbat: miami. there, he spent one more afternoon with petra. prior to leaving, he kissed her. said he loved her. said goodbye. his death was always part of the plan and he couldn’t leave her without the closure he hoped their encounter would provide. 

so he left for the league. his plan fell through and he was forced to fight the league in his own city. killing ra’s nearly killed oliver and had he not been wearing league armor, he surely would have died, just like the arrow. roy harper, a member of team arrow, took the fall and faked his own death to spare oliver an arrest. he no longer needed to be a vigilante and he had no company to run, so oliver did the next most logical thing he could think of: he left his home and moved into the marbella, where he stayed with petra and helped her take care of her daughters, anna and elsa. 

rumors spread around the hotel about the nature of his relationship with petra. though they never talked about being together romantically, he was well aware that’s exactly what they appeared to be. they lived together, raised her kids together, and they weren’t afraid to kiss. to exchange ‘i love you’s. though only a few months, oliver loved each and every one of them. unfortunately, his sisters and laurel showed up and asked for his help fighting the ghosts — a group of men terrorizing star city. 

oliver reluctantly decided to stay in the city and became the green arrow, though he swore he would still be able to take care of petra, even with his focus now on his city. she supported him always and helped inspire him to run for mayor. though initially he withdrew from consideration and technically didn’t win the election, the death of ruvé adams left him to run his city. by now, his relationship with petra was solid. not necessarily defined by words, but it was. neither of them needed to speak it into existence; they just knew. and he was happy. though he kept the secret of his son until everything happened with darhk, petra stood by his side and he loved her all the more for it.

becoming mayor certainly didn’t make his life easier. prometheus proved problematic and he needed petra to be his rock like always. adjusting to his new life — laurel gone, him in office, team practically nonexistent, he was busier than he’d been in years. wearing thin. constantly tired. with felicity’s help, he tracked down a new team and trained them to function in a workable way. with their help, he took on prometheus, though not without a few bumps in the road. prometheus turned out to be his district attorney, adrian chase. chase kidnapped everyone oliver loved that he was able to his hands on — including samantha clayton and her son william. william, who happened to be oliver’s son as well.

all of the hostages taken to lian yu, oliver was eventually forced to watch the island explode. samantha’s life was taken and oliver found himself having to provide for his son in a way he’d never known before. connecting had been difficult, but with help and dedication, they managed to find a solid ground. oliver stepped down as the green arrow to take care of his son, though he is once again donning the hood until john diggle is healthy enough to accept the mantle.

oliver attended the wedding of his friend barry allen with petra as his plus one. luckily, she wasn’t harmed when the chapel was stormed by criminals and she understood why he had to go fight and protect the people they both cared about.

[purging-foxfire]

Prompt: Theme I: Reverse

Length: 1′752

Notes: Holy shit, I finished!! ... Part 1. Might do part 2 with another prompt, might never do a part 2... for now this is all. Obviously, I screwed with the timeline or Ed wouldn’t be that old in this story, but I always wanted to know how that kind of AU could end up, when I was the one writing it. It’s horrible - but it’s worth it. I also hinted on some things, which might be explained in a part two - or not. God, I’m tired. Wanna write something with Truth or Pride as next...

He remembers his teacher's unforgiving, cold words and instructions. His passion and hate for alchemy and the military.

This isn't the correct decision, he knows.

But he also remembers a woman with blond hair, that cooked him meals, listened to what he had to tell, despite being a mere child. How she would pat his head and make sure he had a break in between his whole studying.

And when he thinks of her burnt back, and the ashes that used to be a mansion, he knows it's the best choice he could make.

That's why he accepts the offer from the man with the golden hair.

"You passed." Are the first words, which Roy hears once he enters the office.

He smirks arrogantly at the man behind the desk. He knew he would pass, after all his fire alchemy is rare, and people in the military wouldn't pass the chance to use him for their own, just like the man behind the desk.

"Though they gave you a rather ironic name, if I might say so."

With these words the colonel hands him an envelope, and Roy opens it, a bit curious as to what is written on its content.

"... Flame Alchemist?"

"Mhm," the other nods, and then tales out a box from one of the desk's drawers. He opens it and a silver watch lays in it.

"Congratulations, Flame. You are now a dog of the military."

Roy likes to pretend he understands the bittersweet smile, Colonel Edward Elric wore on that day.

  The first thing he does after getting his watch and being dismissed, is to go to his aunt's brothel and talk with Riza, who spends a lot of time nowadays waiting there for him.

He shows her the watch and he wants to tell her about the colonel's words, but then he notices her rather tired expression and decides to talk about dogs, because they are awesome.

And not because it makes the woman, who is like a big sister to him, smile. Definitely not.

  Roy learns fast, that Colonel Elric is not an usual military member. He doesn’t care about ranks, and he doesn’t play nice. Though whenever he comments how rude the colonel is with his underhanded insults, Havoc or Breda laugh at him and Falman smirks. Even Fuery finds Roy’s words hilarious somehow.

Once he asks them why they are laughing. He doesn’t expect the answer he gets.

“Because,” Havoc says, taking a cigarette out, “Boss used to directly insult people in his earlier years.”

It’s the first time he looks at Colonel Elric and wonders. Wonders what else he doesn’t know.

He finds out, that there’s a shitton of things he doesn’t know about his commanding officer.

At first Roy only joined the military, to protect Riza and himself from any kind of harm. After all, for all he knew, Elric could have told the authorities about Roy and his alchemy.

But slowly, he realizes that Edward Eric isn’t that kind of person and he starts to try and learn about his commanding officer.

Edward Elric is that kind of person, who always has bags under his eyes and looks tired, but never seems to sleep or take naps.

Edward Elric is that kind of person, who teases him countless, but pats his head whenever he does a mission well and even buys him (and the others in the office) something to eat occasionally.

Edward Elric is that kind of person, who takes cats into to the office when it rains, and ignores everyone’s looks, as said cats climb on him, when he does his paperwork.

Roy doesn’t get Edward Elric, not anymore.

After a while of being in the military, Roy takes interest in the legends and tales of the Philosopher’s stone. And with it, human transmutation. He knows it’s wrong and he doesn’t plan to try it (even though it’s so, so tempting). So, he goes and tells the colonel about it.

For some minutes it’s silent, but then Elric looks up, directly into his eyes, and Roy can see thousands of things in those rare golden eyes, but he doesn’t understand a thing about it.

“You… you don’t plan on doing it?”

Roy wants to scoff and say, “Who do you think I am? Of course not!” But when he looks into those eyes, something in his aches and he feels guilty for asking. There is an aura of sadness around the colonel and it’s breaking Roy, piece for piece.

“No, sir… it’s really only for the Philosopher’s stone.”

The colonel only looks at him for some minutes more, before he stares away and sighs (he sounds so, so old, and it’s not the first time Roy wonders how old the other is. He might be short, but he’s a colonel).

“Ok… I might be able to help you.”

And that’s how Roy meets Shou Tucker and Nina Tucker.

One day, when it’s late and the officers go home, Roy sees how the colonel doesn’t move to pack his things as well.

“Colonel?”

“I’m staying behind, Flame.”

And Roy is surprised. Doesn’t the colonel need to rest as well? Isn’t his family waiting for him. He asks him that, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I won’t catch sleep anyway and my family lives a bit far away.”

“Far away? Where?”

“Resembool.”

As Roy leaves the office he wonders.

The next morning, he comes earlier in than the others and he sees the colonel sitting on a couch drinking… milk. Though the look he gives the milk, brings up a new question.

“Do you even like milk?”

“No.” Comes the immediate answer.

“Why are you drinking it then?”

“… In the hope that I grow healthy.”

“… I doubt that. Everyone tells me you have always been this short. That’s probably not going to change.” But even as Roy says those words to the other, he knows that the colonel didn’t mean it like that.

“…Brat.”

He still can’t believe a father would do that to his own daughter, but here is, standing before Tucker’s mansion, surrounded by military officers talking about two dead bodies. A chimera and a human.

Roy can’t bring himself to cry, he already did that, and now he’s just tired. Then he hears footsteps, and turns around to look at the colonel standing before him, tired eyes like always (a bit more tired than usual) and staring at Roy.

Roy wants to say something – no, to scream, to shout at that colonel. They could have helped her somehow, he was sure of it. But then the colonel steps nearer to him, and lays a hand on the back of his head and pulls Roy into a hug.

And Roy remembers – on the first day he saw Nina outside the mansion. He remembers how she ran at the colonel who caught her and spun her around in the air and smiled at her.

He also remembers how on some days, the colonel would be getting him for his drive home, instead of Havoc and suddenly Roy understands Edward Elric a bit better.

The colonel doesn’t want this either, wants to grieve as well – but here he is, cheering Roy up instead.

The colonel always knows what Roy is doing, where he is and where he hides, so that he won’t have to write his reports – it’s irritating, but he is curious as well.

How does he know that all?

He asks the others, but no one has an idea – with the exception of one person.

Maes Hughes, a member of the Investigations Office and apparently (if he believes everyone else of Elric’s team) the colonels… caretaker?

“Do you know what they call Ed on the streets?”

Roy shakes his head.

“The People’s Alchemist – and that’s where he gets his information.”

Roy’s eyes widen as he realizes what Hughes just said. The people��� but people don’t like the military. That’s what he tells Hughes.

“Ed doesn’t like the military as well. Ah, you should have seen him in his first years. You wouldn’t believe it – oh, wait! I think I have a photo with me!”

And Roy doesn’t know what he excepts, but it’s definitely not the young boy with the red coat and his hair worn in a braid, standing beside a huge-ass armor.

Red coat. Braid. Unbelievable eye color. Armor.

Fullmetal Alchemist, his mind whispers, but that can’t be – because that’s a little boy matching the description there. Younger than him, with his fifteen years.

“Hughes… how old was the colonel then?”

“He was 12, that’s the year he joined.”

Three years younger than himself, Roy realizes (now he really understands the bittersweet smile on his first day).

“And… now?”

“19, Edward is 19, Roy.”

And his heart is beating faster – and this doesn’t make sense.

“B-but… he is a colonel…”

“Yeah, and he was major when he was 12 – there was a war, Roy.”

Hughes’ words are spoken soft and Roy, for the first time, really sees the colonel behind that desk, in that little office and he wonders.

Roy snips his fingers and creates fire.

Roy helps people.

Roy saves people.

And they start to whisper and mutter things like, “Another People’s Alchemist!!” or “Just like Edward!”

He only looks away, and doesn’t react (his mind is filled with thoughts of 12 years old kid standing in his place).

And one day – it’s unexpected – he doesn’t know what to do. It’s raining and he obviously can’t use his gloves. For a moment he worries, but then he hears the opening of doors and looks behind him, where Havoc’s car stands. Edward and the car’s owner step out and walk to him.

It’s when Edward pats his head, and tells him, “Good job, Roy” that he realizes why exactly he was placed under Edward’s care (after all he went through it all, and would know how to handle Roy, with his young age).

It’s when Edward shields him, with standing before him, that Roy meets the Fullmetal Alchemist for the first time.

He only needs to clap – to clap – and buildings and ground move.

It’s pure destruction and in the middle, stands a short man with golden hair, golden eyes and an arm made out of metal.

Suddenly, Roy doesn’t find it that hard to believe that Edward is colonel with only 19 years old anymore.

He tells that Riza and his aunt.

[paybackraid]

Parental Roy with Ed & Al for "I swear my house is haunted" if you want to!

Here you go, my friend! This isn’t what I had started it as but THIS WORKS TOO. Enjoy! Also: an Ishvalan AU

It was 2:30 in the friggin’ morning, and he was awake. He had to be up early for work, but apparently his body decided it wanted to screw him over. So he was awake. At 2:30 in the friggin’ morning.

Roy had been living by himself since leaving the academy at 19, about ten years, besides his time in Ishval. In that time he had gotten used to the feeling of his space, so he knew what it felt like when things in his space were off. And something… something was off.

He reached a hand over and smacked about until he located his gloves, then slipped them on and climbed out of bed. A quick glance around revealed nothing out of the ordinary yet. Something was definitely off though, he felt it in his heart and the feel of the air. Had someone broken in, somehow, quietly enough that he hadn’t woken? Surely they wouldn’t have come here to steal anything. He had nothing of any worth in his threadbare little excuse for an apartment. Ms Matlow, just upstairs, was loaded, why couldn’t they have gone to her…

He shook his head. He was a State Alchemist, it was better that they come for his place; he had the legal right, and the prowess, to take on and arrest any thief who broke in.

Moving swiftly but quietly, Roy slipped out of his bedroom and into the hallway. He looked around… something was definitely off.

The picture of he and Hughes, for instance, that he had on his accent table in the hall lay face down on it.

“Wha—?” No thief would do something like that. So what…?

Roy took the picture and stood it back up, pushing it back against the wall just in case something else came after it. It was a good picture, after all, and he didn’t want to see something that embodied so many memories get broken. That done, he moved on.

He stepped into his living room and glanced around. The drapes were pulled shut—not fully, but enough to block light from the couch. Besides the blanket that he kept on the chair in the corner, there didn’t seem to be anything missing as far as he could tell in the low light. No thief. Then what was wrong? Something was definitely off, and his instincts hadn’t been wrong before…

His eyes, just for a second, caught on a dark thing in the corner facing the couch, opposite his blanket-chair. The thing, whatever it was, just stood there, still as fallen snow and just as silent. It was like a dark, heavy presence, there to deliver his doom.

“…I think my apartment is haunted.”

The words came out before he really even thought them. Even just saying them, he felt ridiculous. Haunted? Seriously? Fuery was someone that he expected to believe in ghost stories like that. And besides, he had never heard anything in the eight years he had been living here, and back when he moved in, he had never heard of anything like that from the other residents. If the place was haunted, arguably the whole building would be haunted. But all that he had ever heard of this place had been great things, praising the state of the buildings, the appliances, and the landlord, all of which had proven true.

It was 2:30 in the morning. That was his only excuse. It was 2:30 in the morning, and he really needed to sleep.

Still, his need to know what was going on and be in control overrode the need for sleep, so he slipped further into the room towards the couch. In front of the couch there were two bulky shapes of he-couldn’t-tell-what. He crept around to the side of the couch, looking first down on those shapes and then, when a light shifted through the curtains outside and shone off something on the couch, he looked right at it.

The light flashed off metal.

“Wha…?” He crouched down and got a good look at it. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, so he could vaguely see what was probably a long metal something resting atop something on his couch. What could it—

He frowned and brought a hand around, not to attack but for some light. He was either about to put himself in very real danger… or get a good look at what had disturbed his rest. He snapped, a flame eating up the oxygen around him for a portion of a second, but that was more than enough time to see the long white hair and dark skin, and the bright red coat.

Edward. That was Edward, his Ishvalan subordinate. But what was he doing here?

The mass in the corner, the dark presence, suddenly shifted and clinked. Roy started hard and shot to his feet, hand out to attack. Whomever this was—

“…Alphonse?”

“Colonel?” Yeah, that was definitely Alphonse’s metallic voice.

Roy squinted, hoping to see better, but frowned instead and fumbled somewhere up near Ed’s head for the lamp. He flicked it on and squeezed his eyes shut as the room flooded with light.

And indeed, there stood Alphonse, looking a little nervous. He must not have noticed Roy coming in, or maybe he had been waiting to see what he would do. He was staring at Roy’s lifted hand, waiting for him to attack.

Roy sighed and lowered that hand, shoving both hands into his pockets to hide how nervous he had been. “What are you doing, breaking into my apartment at 2:30 in the morning?” He looked down at his subordinate, who slept contently on the couch, balled up in Roy’s favorite flannel blanket.

“We needed a place to stay. Brother really needed to sleep,” Alphonse whispered, hanging his head as if in shame. “We didn’t know where else to go.”

“The dorms?” Roy said. He fought back a yawn and said, “or at least a hotel?”

“We couldn’t afford a hotel tonight,” Al explained. “And the lady at the dorms kicked us out. She said we were probably terrorists.”

Roy flinched hard at that, glancing down to his Ishvalan subordinate again, and then at his Ishvalan younger, armor-laden brother. Ishvalans really weren’t taken well to still. It had been a piece of work, trying to get Edward into the military. Stepping around the Ishvalan ban had only been manageable because, according to records, Ed and Al were only quarter-Ishvalan. There was apparently enough Amestrian in them to run out the old “brutal Ishvalan ways”.

“Ed didn’t show his watch?”

“She said we probably stole it.”

Oh yeah, he was definitely going to have to have a nice, long chat with that woman.

Roy just shook his head, glancing between the brothers. Ed didn’t even seem aware that they were having this conversation. “Why didn’t you at least wake me?”

“Ed thought we would be awake before you were. He thought he was stopping in for a cat nap. Is it… can we stay?”

“Of course he did…” But ‘Plans’ and ‘Edward Elric’ never exactly worked well together. He wasn’t about to kick them out onto the streets, though. Especially not in the chill. “…Yeah, fine. Collect his things.”

“Umm… Okay.” Alphonse crouched to gather Ed’s boots and a small suitcase, watching Roy.

Roy couldn’t stand to leave Ed there on the couch, was all. His couch was little more than some filling atop a box of rocks. The kid would kill his neck… And Roy would hear about it in the morning. Better to nip the problem in the bud.

So, he slid his arms beneath Ed’s legs and shoulders, eased him forward, and collected him into his arms. “Follow me,” he said to Al. “I have a guest room.”

“Really?” Alphonse did, his hollow steps echoing through the small apartment.

Roy glanced back his way, spotting the accent table and his picture of himself and Hughes. “If I can ask,” he said politely but leaving no room for the idea that he wasn’t getting an answer, “was there a reason the two of you turned over my photo? I rather like that one.”

Al flinched, turning pointedly away from the photo. Huh. “Yeah, um… brother just… couldn’t look at him. You know.”

…Yeah, Roy knew. There were some days that Roy had to make himself look away from it. “…I do,” he agreed. He shook himself off, and silently led the way with his burden into the guest room across from the bathroom. “Bathroom’s right there,” he said, nodding back at it. He settled his burden on the bed and worked the blanket out from beneath him. “If Ed wants to shower in the morning, he can. He can help himself to whatever I’ve got in the fridge… not sure how much of it’ll be edible, though.”

Al laughed for a second until he realized that Roy was serious.

“You boys coming in, in the morning?”

“Probably. Whenever he gets up, he needs to report to you.”

Ahh… right. They had just come back from a mission. “…Right. Let’s keep it before noon then, shall we?”

Al chuckled humorlessly. “We’ll try, but you know brother.”

“Heh.” Roy squeezed his eyes shut and turned back around toward the door. “I’m going back to bed. I have to be up early. If I’m not up by nine, and Hawkeye comes to the door… don’t let her in, alright, Alphonse?”

Al laughed quietly in confirmation. “Sure. Thanks again, colonel, for letting us stay. Sorry we woke you.”

Roy waved him off tiredly. “No, next time, do wake me, so I don’t try to kill you. But whatever, I really need to sleep. You’re welcome to the books in the living room, Alphonse.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good night.”

A smile came shyly through when Al said, “good night, sir.”

Roy nodded and went to his room, closing the guest room door just enough that a crack of light could leak through should they need it. Then he slipped back into his room and climbed beneath the covers. After a moment, he heard Alphonse creep back out to the living room, flick off the light, and sneak back into the guest room, surely with a book or two in hand.

Tonight—or this morning, as it was—didn’t end exactly how he expected it to. Not in the slightest. It was better than the alternative that he was expecting—no one was breaking in to murder him or rob him. They were just breaking in to rest for a few hours. It didn’t matter to him that it was now 2:50 in the morning and he had to be up in just three hours and ten minutes. Well, it did, and he was going to bitch to someone about how little sleep he got, but at least he was losing sleep for a legitimate reason. Not some bullshit reason like a robbery. And he had an actual excuse, and an actual, fair witness if he ended up waking up late in the morning, so Hawkeye couldn’t (necessarily) try to shoot him.

He chuckled to himself before drifting back to sleep. If that worked in his favor, maybe he could “urge” the Elrics to break into his home and cat nap on his couch more often…

[artificialqueens]

New Man Pt. 2 - Fucking Awful.

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS FOR YOUR KIND FEEDBACK! I am so appreciative that you took the time to read Part 1 of “New Man” and glad to hear you enjoyed it. You all make my little Grinch heart grow 10 sizes.

Here is Part 2 – I know I promised fluff and happiness, but the story took me in a different direction for this chapter. That said, this is Part 2/?? and if you bear with my I promise to take you to the Promised Land of kisses and glitter. Darkness before the dawn, right? 

A good chunk of this is flashback/Roy recounting how we got here, so not as much forward movement as background. Hope you don’t mind some heavy-handed exposition…

Last 2 things – I’m seeing what happens if I switch into Roy’s POV, because I like the narrative structure flipping back and forth between the 2. Would love to get feedback on that, and happy to adapt the structure to one POV or the other if you have strong feelings. AND THIS IS A LONG ONE, sorry if 3K words is brutal.

Thanks for readying, y’all are the real MVPs.

This was going really fucking great.

That was the only thing running through Roy’s mind as he felt Danny smile underneath his kiss. In the 4 hours he’d been in Seattle he thought he had totally screwed up his plan, but somehow things had gotten back on track. Clearly this was meant to –

And then Danny broke away. Suddenly, roughly. Ripping is lips away and pushing off with surprising force. Roy stumbled back a few paces as both men caught their breath.

“No. This is…you’re…no.” Danny picked up the lighter he’d dropped in the heat of the moment, still muttering to himself just low enough that Roy couldn’t hear. Then he grabbed Roy by the forearm and dragged him back into the bar – again, sudden and rough. Roy couldn’t help but giggle just a tiny bit, thinking how ridiculous Danny must look hauling a 40-year-old man off like a misbehaving toddler.

“This isn’t funny, man. What was…ugh!” Throwing his hands off dramatically, Danny let go and continued back to their friends. Shit, the kid was really frustrated and probably even a little mad. Roy steeled himself from the drunken giggles, rejoining the table a few seconds behind.

He was thankful that the crew didn’t acknowledge anything that had just happened – the benefit of drunk friends, amiright? Roy eased back into the group conversation, light chatter about who totally saw the ending coming on Westworld or what memes would make the best protest t-shirts. He took every opportunity to steal an unnoticed look at Danny, who was half participating in the discussion and half furiously clicking at his phone. In his cross-faded fog, Roy couldn’t tell what the kid was doing. Grindr? Writing a novel? Playing Bejeweled – that was still a thing, right?

His stealth staring mission was clearly a failure, though, evidenced by the sharp kick of Jinkx’s boot on his shin.

“OH what the fuck Jinkx?!” Curiosity became shooting pain as Roy clutched for his leg underneath the table.

“Sorry Roy, clumsy as ever! Let me grab you a drink, dull the pain. Come with me to the bar?” The redhead emphasized the last request with Uzo Aduba-level crazy eyes. This was not a request, and while Jinkx didn’t intimidate Roy he was too fuzzy to fight.

“Sure, queen. Somebody has to make sure you don’t drop the booze.” Oof, his snapbacks were weak tonight. The two left the table and headed to see Todd at the bar.

“I’ll take a –“

“Oh no, you’ll have a water. Todd, water for Bianca del Drunko. I’ll take a few shots of Jack for the table, and Ginger backs.” Roy pouted and raised an eyebrow, sorting through his Rolodex of Hate for a quippy insult about ginger and redheads and minj, but finding his speed dulled a bit by the smoke and alcohol.

Jinkx turned back to him. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you right now but get it together. Jesus, del Rio, you’re supposed to be the mature one. The rest of us get to fuck things up. Just drink your water and mellow out for a minute.” The redhead knew about Roy’s plan, his oh-so-secret plan to use this weekend to woo Danny, and could tell he was putting it at risk.

“Alright, alright Jinkx. Don’t get so worked up you fall asleep on me.”

The joke fell flat. “You can do better than that.”

“Damn straight I can. You –“

For what had to be the millionth time that night, Roy was interrupted. This time by his phone, pinging with a text – from Danny. Roy looked over to the table to see what was going on, but all he saw was the kid deep in conversation and finally ignoring his phone. Roy swiped to open…

Danny: What the hell, Roy? I know we haven’t gotten to see much of each other since I moved up here, but something is different about you and it’s really fucked. You’ve been acting like a bit of a cunt the last few weeks, you hardly call me or Shane or even your mom anymore, and now you’re here doing everything you can to cheat on your boyfriend? With strangers, with me…This isn’t you, and if it is then I’m not sure I know you anymore.

Roy scanned the text eight more times before throwing his phone down on the bar. Jinkx didn’t flinch, too occupied flirting with one of the cute bartenders. Seizing the moment, Roy grabbed the three shots of Jack the guy had poured and knocked them back in quick succession. It wasn’t until the slam of the last shot glass onto the bar that the redhead looked up, just in time to see Roy storming for the exit.

As he stood out on the curb, trying desperately to get an Uber with his now smashed up phone, there was only one thing running through Roy’s mind:

This was going really fucking awful.

—

Roy woke up suddenly, eyes snapping open to his unfamiliar hotel room lit by dawn creeping through haphazardly closed curtains. He rolled over to look at the clock – 5:12am. It figures, Roy was never one to sleep off a night of drinking. While most people spent the next day wrapped in blankets and sleeping like a rock until at least 11am, he always seemed to be yanked out of slumber after only a few hours of restless shut-eye. Sometime between 5am and 6am he would be awake, mind reeling and trying unsuccessfully to will himself back to sleep until the headache went away.

This morning was no different – only the pain was so, so much worse. Sure, he used three shots of whiskey to put an exclamation mark on a night of heavy drinking, but the pain that was nagging him most was emotional. Roy grabbed for his phone – oh right, it was smashed to shit by angry Bianca last night – and re-read Danny’s text. He was hit by a sudden wave of nausea, a feeling that made him want to cry as it made him want to vomit. He grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar, charge be damned, and chugged the whole thing has he tried to figure out how the hell he had screwed this up so badly.

—

His plan was never *simple*, but that wouldn’t be Roy’s style. As Bob had frequently told him, he was a “lover of complexity” and couldn’t help himself. The plan to woo Danny was no different.

To say he cooked this up when he caught Sky sleeping with one of his personal training clients 2 weeks ago was only half right. Roy had actually planned to spend the three months off between the US and UK legs of Not Today Satan to finally make a play for Danny, but bitch moved to Seattle before he could make any of the many grand gestures he’d cooked up. In the first few weeks after Danny left, when the kid’s social media had been flooded with posts about how much he loved Seattle and the people, Roy hit a real low point. Jealous, exhausted, and feeling quite sorry for himself, he met Sky in a bar and hooked up with him a few times before falling into an effortless relationship.

Effortless not in the good sense of the word, though; effortless in the sense that Roy put in literally no effort, and didn’t care to make it work. The guy was named SKY after all – Roy could barely believe he’d been able to fuck a guy named Sky for 2 whole months, but he supposed the abs helped. Sky was just a nice distraction, a pretty shiny toy to brag about when he needed to overcompensate in conversations with Danny and Shane…which had quickly become all the time. He learned a hot, rich boyfriend is a great way to deflect questions about himself or his wellbeing. The new man, combined with dialing the bitchiness up to 11, was like armor; helpful in denying to himself and the outside world that he was not in a good place.

But when Roy walked in on Sky with his 2pm-Tuesdays balls deep in his ass, he resolved that even in his lowest moments he had the self-respect not to date a cheater. So he cut if off with Sky and 20 minutes later booked a 2 week trip to Seattle. Time to put the Noriega-Haylock plan back in action, for the thousandth time in 4 years.

This time, Roy would show Danny how perfect and the right kind of effortless they could be. He would breeze into town – but let’s be real, Roy never breezes – and seamlessly integrate himself into the Seattle version of Danny’s life. He would meet the new friends, support him at all his local shows, become a member at the EMP…hell he’d even buy a few flannels and a beanie. At the same time, Roy would make his feelings for Danny abundantly clear. He was confident that Danny reciprocated them; he knew it in his heart, but he also knew because Danny had told him on more than one occasion. Three times over the course of their friendship Danny had been the fearless one and professed his love for Roy. Ok, so maybe fearless is the wrong word – the drunk and cross-faded one may be a more apt description – but the point was that Roy knew Danny wanted this as much as he did. He felt it in his soul, his mind, every fiber of his body. Now it was time to make it real.

After booking the flights, he called Dela to layout his plan. He knew he needed a confidante in this, and it wouldn’t be fair to Shane to put him in the middle of this.

“B, I’m really glad you’re finally taking the plunge with Danny. It’s been too long coming. But you realize you have 2 big problems, right?” Ben was his always-enthusiastic self, but had some concerns. “You still aren’t solving the long-distance and time problem you’ve always been worried about.”

“We’ll find a way to work through it. I have to stop using that as an excuse to not give this a chance.”

“Very big of you, and I agree. But, uh, the second thing – don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Well, funny story – no. That was always a waste of my time – c’mon, his name was SKY – and I caught him getting fucked by a bear about an hour ago.”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry! Are you ok? Are you alone?” Ben launched into caregiver mode, instantly making Roy uncomfortable.

“No, Ben I’m really fine. It was not –“

“I know Michelle’s in town, she’s always my breakup guru, maybe you should –“

Fuck. Roy realized a major problem. If he announced to his friends (and social media, shit) that he and his new man had broken up, his life would become an endless barrage of sympathy. Everything he’d done to ward off questions about the bags under his tired eyes, the increasingly infrequent and short calls to friends and family, and the mess in his usually tidy life would crumble. Roy couldn’t have that – he was fine, he was the caretaker for everyone else, and he couldn’t stand people to fuss over his well-being.

It was in that moment that he made the decision that made the plan *complex* - “Ben, stop. I’m fine, really I’m ok. Peachy fucking keen. But can I ask one favor of you? One tiny thing and I’ll name my next dog after you?”

“Anything, dear.”

“Do not – and I repeat, do NOT – tell anyone that Sky and I broke up.”

“What?” Ben was confused, understandably.

“I don’t want to deal with all of these conversations about it, and the only person who really needs to know right now is Danny. I’ll tell him in person when I’m in Seattle, please just keep quiet about it until then.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best…”

“Please, Dela. Just let me do this my way?”

After a long pause – “Ok, alright, sure. Let me go on record saying I don’t think that’s a healthy way to handle this.”

“Dually noted, Judge Judy. Thank you, I appreciate it.” Roy hung up with Dela and began crafting his “casual” message to Danny to tell him he’d be in town. Mid-way through the 5th round of editing, his phone rang: Jinkx.

“Hey Jinkx, can I call you back I –“

“Are you an idiot? I mean really, are the blonde wigs affecting your brain?” Jinkx steamrolled him.

“Excuse me?” “Dela is on with me – I know what you’re coming to Seattle to do –“

“Well now it’s to come cut up that bitch Dela’s wigs. I asked you one thing, you little fruit fly –“ “Sorry Roy, I –“

“Don’t apologize, Ben. He was right to tell me, he’s going to be out of town when you get here and someone has to help you not screw this up. I know we can’t talk you out of it, but at least let us try to support you. This is big risk, big reward, and it could – you’re going to need wing-people.”

Roy knew there was no point in fighting. As good natured as Jinkx was, bitch was aggressive. If we wanted to help, goddammit he was going to help. With a sigh – “Ok, you’re in on this. Great. But please let me handle this they way I want to – I need to. Danny and I are endgame to a long, long story and I have to do this the way I feel is right. If this gets out beyond the two of you, I will call Darienne and Roxxxy so that those shady elephants can trample you. Is that clear?”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Jinkx scoffed.

Ben soothed. “What Jinkx means to say, Roy, is we are here for you and support you. We are so happy you’re finally going after what we’ve all seen for years.”

“Yes, all that.” Jinkx reassured. “And I promise I won’t let you fuck it up.”

Roy laughed. “Gee, thanks.” Now, with less sarcasm – “I do actually appreciate it. But I think I got this.”

It was Jinkx’s turn for sarcasm. “Uh huh, sure.”

—

It did not bring Roy any joy to have proven Jinkx right. Again, he felt nauseous.

He had basically blown his chance with Danny on the first night but if he was being honest the mistakes started long before. The sexting. See, Roy refused to tell anyone else – not Shane, not Detox, nobody – about his breakup with Sky. That meant a lot of nights alone before his trip to Seattle, pretending to be busy to avoid having to be avoidant. That also meant a lot of solo wine nights, which somehow quickly devolved into sending dirty texts – so, so many dirty texts – to Danny. Now that he was committing to his pursuit, the fact that his every sexual fantasy had the same male lead was not something Drunk Roy felt the need to hide. At some point every night, his filter would disappear and he’d send Danny a (he thought) beautifully written description of the patterns he wanted to draw across his body with his tongue, the ways in which he wanted to tie up and be tied, the rhythms he wanted to pound into him, etc.

That Danny did not respond to these texts or bring them up in their regular conversations was a little confusing to Roy, but he was glad for it. He figured Danny just read them when he was equally pissed drunk – he knew he deleted messages as he read them – and forgot about it. At least that’s what he hoped, so that there could be some element of surprise in his plan. But seeing Danny’s reaction to the kiss and everything after, Roy understood he was wrong. It seemed like Danny was actually mad about it – not a reaction he had expected.

And then there was the bar – for that, Roy couldn’t muster an explanation or an excuse. He knew that he did this. During times of high anxiety and stress, Roy makes terrible decisions when he drinks. He tried for years to understand how or why, but for some reason worry plus whiskey turns him into a bad idea machine. This wasn’t the first time the same combination ended with him lip-locked (or worse) with a stranger that he later regretted. He should’ve just kept it low-key last night, not drinking much if at all so that he could play it cool with Danny. But nerves got the best of Roy, and from the moment he got on the plane he’d been building a buzz. By the time he got to the bar he was browning out, and he barely remembered how he ended up cuddled up with this random guy.

It wasn’t until Danny started singing that damn song that Roy realized what was going on. Immediately he was horrified – it looked like he was cheating on his boyfriend. Not only did he ignore the love of his life when he had flown to Seattle to see him, but he also appeared to be committing Danny’s #1 cardinal unforgivable sin. He immediately stood up and left the stranger’s table, and rejoined his so-called friends – What the fuck, why didn’t Jinkx stop him? What kind of wing-person was that? Roy sat for a few minutes, half seething and half feeling like he was actually going to die of embarrassment and sadness. When he saw Danny get up to leave, he jumped at the chance to catch him outside and apologize.

And yet – again, with the good ideas from Drunk Roy – instead of apologizing he found himself aggressively accosting Danny before going in for the kiss he’d dreamed about for years. And for just a few seconds, Roy thought everything was going to be ok. He thought that despite all his mistakes today, the last two weeks, the last few years…he thought he’d finally gotten it right. But we all saw how that ended…

—

Finished with a second bottle of water now, Roy emerged from his self reflective daze. He stared at the text from Danny hoping against all hope that he would feel better and last night could be erased and that he could save him and Danny. But when he looked down at the message for the thousandth time, he had to choke back searing tears.

I’m not sure I know you anymore.

“Sometimes I don’t think I know me anymore either, kid.” He muttered. He rifled through is bag to find some Benadryl – the only way he can sleep some days – and popped two of the pink pills before rolling back to bed. “But I’ll make this right. God and Joan Rivers help me, we’re gonna do this.”

Roy couldn’t fix anything now, so at least he could try to sleep.  

—

[End of Part 2]