sticky note: pg-13, wip (1/?)

Colonel Roy Mustang vehemently denied it, but it was common knowledge that he was by far the largest user of sticky notes in the office. It wasn’t surprising then, that he was now standing rather sheepishly in front of Hawkeye’s desk, wanting to borrow another pad.

“You know how everybody takes things from my desk…” he trailed off lamely. There was a snort from Havoc, who soon found himself at the receiving end of Mustang’s fierce glare.

“Ahh, just some cigarette smoke up my nose.”

Hawkeye hid a smile as she pulled out a new pad from her drawer. It paid to have a stash of them hidden somewhere.

“Don’t bother returning it.” 

Mustang nodded, a curt assent, before retreating to his desk.

Hawkeye returned to reading reports and ignoring Havoc while he had eyes at her from his corner of the room. She didn’t even look up when Edward Elric arrived, panting, and demanded to see the Colonel.

“Lieutenant!” White gloved hands blotted out the next line. “I must speak to the Colonel! It’s about –”

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes and him and shushed him furiously. Puzzled, Ed turned to Havoc, who grinned and mimicked holding a phone, all the while making wet kissing noises into the ‘receiver’. Ed’s expression darkened.

“So he thinks I’m smaller than a miniscule atom and so he can ignore me, right!?”

Hawkeye sighed. She hoped the Colonel’s telephone call wasn’t interrupted by that outburst. Trust Ed-kun to think everything was about his height.

Thankfully, the office door swung open and spared the office from any major alchemical tantrums. Hawkeye started from her seat but Roy just waved at her to remain at her desk. He snapped his fingers at Havoc, who was trying to put out a small fire he had started while dozing on his desk.

“Havoc, I’ll need the car!”

“Yessir!”

Roy Mustang was already half out of the door when he finally noticed Edward Elric. He paused in mid-stride.

“If it’s the report, you can always give it to me tomorrow, Full Metal. I’m busy now.”

Roy took his coat down from where it usually hung on the stand and shrugged it on before opening the door and letting in a blast of chilly winter air. Some papers flew down to the ground and Ed automatically stooped to pick them up.

Hawkeye left her desk and watched from a window as her superior got into the car and sped off, before entering the inner office and peeling off the note from the telephone. Ed put down the papers and followed her in. He read silently from behind her shoulder as she carefully copied down the name, address and phone number from the note, before sticking it back and returning to her desk. 

“Where was the Colonel going that was so important I could wait until tomorrow?” Ed-kun was leaning against the doorframe, a thoughtful look on his face. Hawkeye didn’t like that look – it meant that he was planning something.

The scritchscratch of her pen paused before continuing on as before. Silence was the best defence, she thought. Now where was she before Ed-kun had interrupted her thoughts? Ah yes, the report on the Mechanical Alchemist…

“So, where is he going?”

Pen met table. Not without a loud bang, either. Ed obviously wasn’t going to give up until he got an answer.

“He’s going on a DATE, Ed-kun. He goes on one every Friday.”

“And the sticky note?”

“He leaves me her details in case – in case anything goes wrong.”

The second part of the sentence was murmured, but Ed was too preoccupied to notice a difference in tone. 

He had gone back into the Colonel’s office and now returned with the offending note stuck to the tips of his fingers. He grinned evilly. 

“In the case, I think I’ll drop in and pay them a surprise visit.” His smile faltered slightly at Hawkeye’s pointed gaze.

“Er, I’ll just drop off my report…”

Hawkeye gave up all semblance of patience and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Ed-kun, have you any idea what people do on dates?”

“Have dinner and watch a movie?”

“Possibly. And after?” Hawkeye needled him gently.

Ed-kun was quick, she’d give him that. As soon as she saw the burning blush spread across his face, she leaned back, satisfied that she’d gotten the point across. Her conscience pricked her, but it wasn’t a lie anyway; a half-truth perhaps, but not a lie. There were some things that the Colonel had expressly told her to keep secret and she wasn’t about to betray his trust in her. 

“Oh.”

Hawkeye patted the drooping figure comfortingly on the back. “Now don’t you agree with me that we should give them a bit of privacy?”

boys like to play: r, short

The canteen was so crowded for once that Ed had to actually try and elbow his way in. 

“Niisan, you know, it might be easier if you just asked them to move…” Al commented as Ed once again nearly missed being hit by somebody’s waving arms.

“Who are you calling smaller than a miniscule speck on your eye!!!!”

catharsis: r, drabblet

and it feels now
just like heaven’s coming down
your soul shakes free
as its conscience hits the ground

-‘Heaven Coming Down’, Tea Party

Roy can’t remember a time without nightmares.

They are always the same – ghosts of the past come back to haunt him, the accusations of those long dead, the faces of those he was forced to kill. They beat against his mind, the angry pounding building to a crescendo which ends with him waking, half-scream on his lips in a cold, empty room. 

don’t ask: r, drabble

Edward has always thought of Roy as a man of contradictions. But when Roy touches him, all his thoughts go out of the window.

It never fails to amaze him; that Roy’s lips can be so hot when his demeanour can be so cold and aloof. Roy always laughs when he tells him that, the corner of his mouth crooked in that characteristic smirk which frustrates Edward and yet makes him want to cover that mouth with kisses all over again.

He loves the expanse of Roy’s fair skin. It has obviously seen war; it holds far too many scars and attests to far too many atrocities. It is a soldier’s skin. Edward hates those atrocities but he loves those markings. Or the person who bears those scars. Roy is particularly sensitive at those ridges and Edward likes to run a rough tongue over these blemishes (as if that could erase them), pausing to suck on a particular spot on Roy’s collarbone which never fails to elicit a moan. Edward is careful to not let his automail scrap against that smooth skin – he doesn’t want to one of the nameless, faceless people who have hurt Roy. He desperately wants his hands clean but knows that someday they’ll be soiled; he just doesn’t want his lover to be the first to bleed.

Roy is a different person in bed and in the office. He is such an arrogant bastard at work that Edward takes pleasure in making him lose his legendary control. It pleases him to make Roy writhe in ecstasy under him, moaning his name. SaymynameRoysayit. Seeing Roy’s usually neat hair plastered wetly along his forehead and his keen, sharp eyes lost in sensation is enough to make Edward come. And he does, every time. Roy jokes that he is predictable, but Edward knows he doesn’t mind, not when he stands to gain from it. Not when he knows it’ll be his turn to make Edward scream the next time.

When it is all over; when they lie in a sticky tangle on the bed, Roy likes to twine their hair together, blonde against black. Edward hates the way his face is always in shadow – he would like to know what Roy is thinking when he does that, but he lets Roy do it all the same. After all, to gain something, you must give something in return, and the line between alchemy and life – sex, is blurred. He wished it wasn’t.

And when Roy finally falls asleep – how can the man be tired by just sitting around in an office for the whole day he would like to know – Edward finally looks into the shadows, searching for an answer that he doesn’t know if he’ll find, and doesn’t dare to ask for –

Because ignorance is bliss, and he’ll rather not know.