Ionic Bonds [Fullmetal Alchemist, Kimblee: chemistry]
Title: Ionic Bonds
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 1,913
Theme: Table 2, #1 chemistry
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implications of violence/general Kimblee creepiness.
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: Kimblee meets Roy and Armstrong (both still male in this universe)... This one plays around with a relationship between Kimblee and Armstrong (sort of a different take on what I wrote in (NSFW) Praise, brothers, your path)
"Ah, Bruna Mitsch!"
"Sol Kimblee!" There were few enough women fighting here in Ishval, let alone female alchemists, for them to ignore one another. What they had could only be considered a cool understanding. I other circumstances, neither would've chosen the other as a friend.
People didn't like to touch Sol's hands. Bruna, seeing it as the wiser course of action, behaved no differently. Sol was a loose cannon. Even if she didn't plan on hurting you, she had a bad habit of playing tricks. Sol and Bruna didn't shake hands when they encountered each other. Instead, they hugged, mixing the soot and grime and possibly blood on their uniforms.
Bruna specialized in drawing elements out of things. Sol specialized in blowing things up. Of course, no matter their methods, like all State Alchemists deployed to Ishval, they shared the duty of dealing death. They did not particularly enjoy each other's company, but circumstances tended to lump them together, so what was there to do?
When Sol strolled into the mess area that evening, freshly showered and attired after a long shift spent picking off stragglers in the desert, Bruna was sitting on a bench between two men. Sol knew them for fellow alchemists, but had spoken to neither and was thus unfamiliar with their particulars. "Educing," she greeted Bruna.
"Oh, Crimson Lotus." Bruna sounded practically cheerful. Sol wondered if her approach had freed her colleague from an awkward situation or topic. "Come sit down and let me introduce you to these two."
With less rapidity than Bruna, the men turned around to face Sol. As had been apparent from behind, one of them was absolutely huge- tall, sculpted, nearly hairless, with soulful baby blue eyes that contrasted with his imposing physique. "Alex Louis Armstrong," Bruna announced him. Sol knew the name.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Alex smiled. He shook Sol's hand, and although he glanced at the arrays tattooed there, he still treated her deadly weapons like a princess' dainty glove.
As she always did, Sol appraised him. Alex was a gentleman. And Sol liked that. She was a lady. He was also a bit younger and, she guessed, considerably more naive. In this time of war that would be to his disadvantage- but not necessarily to Sol's. "Sol J. Kimblee."
"The Crimson Lotus Alchemist," the other, somewhat Xingese-looking man supplied.
"Oh? My reputation proceeds me?" It was flattering. Sol tried her best not to come off as too vain. It was unbecoming.
"That's a pretty moniker." Alex kept on smiling. Sol favored him with a soft glance. Perhaps someone was developing a little crush?
"You might not want to learn what she's done to earn it then," the other man continued. His eyes were dark, cold. However long he'd been in Ishval, it was clear that he had seen some things (possibly situations of his own making) that he wanted to forget. His voice was low and dry and focused.
"Maybe," Sol ventured, "You have a reputation out here that will resonate with me too."
"Roy Mustang." He extended a weary white-gloved hand. There was some reluctance in the action, as if he felt he had no other choice in the matter, but no one was forcing him, so Sol could not quite trace its origin.
"The Flame Alchemist," she said, proving herself to be at least Roy's equal in the general scheme of around-camp knowledge. "I could say the same for you."
"Ha ha," Bruna croaked out her usual grating laugh, "You think 'Flame' is a pretty name, Sol?"
She didn't bother to answer. Sol didn't care what Bruna thought. This was between her and Roy. He was eyeing her suspiciously, curiously. There was plenty about Sol he had no idea about. While she actively chose to engage in a mood of softness with Alex, there was no acting behind the sparks she felt beginning to fly between herself and Roy (though the sort of sparks that blazed within her might not be quite the type he was thinking of).
"Miss Sol- may I call you Sol?- Won't you join us?" Alex simultaneously asked and offered, sliding over to make room for the fourth alchemist.
"How can I say no when you ask so nicely?" She accepted, moving and speaking with a demeanor well suited to advancing her budding ties to Alex. All the while, however, her eyes remained drawn, almost magnetically to Roy. He was a sharp cookie, this Roy Mustang. They were each putting up their best poker face in an attempt to read the other without themselves being deciphered. Sol could not deny she loved to face a worthy opponent. And Roy, she found herself thinking, was both formidable and handsome.
For Sol, this was the beginning of an interesting association with both alchemists. For Roy and Alex, as well as Bruna, the emotions and outcomes related to this relationship would be of a decidedly more complicated nature...
"Sol, are your eyes really gold or it is just a trick of light?" This question had been on Roy's mind for the past week, along with several infinitely more weighty and complicated ones. Perhaps he had settled for asking this one miniscule thing because his other inquiries could not be voiced. Sol was beautiful, but she was also frightening- and the more he thought about her, the more horrible and terrifying he found her (How did you go about asking someone, "Are you a psychopath?").
"Yes, they're yellow." She didn't know where that characteristic had come from (her father was always quick to claim that it, like other qualities he didn't care for in Sol, came from her mother's family), but she liked this sly, feline look, as well as the boost it gave her ability to unnerve strangers.
"They're, um...they're really quite striking." Roy seemed somewhat stuck for words, but Sol knew as well as he did that he was tongue-tied by the other things on his mind, not by her beauty. "Actually, they remind me of something, but I can't quite put my finger on what..."
"I've been told that gold eyes were common among the people of Xerxes," Sol offered. She didn't know what he was searching for in the vast libraries of his mind, but it was a remark she'd heard enough before. She knew that Roy had studied extensively in his chosen field due to the technical complexity of his preferred technique.
"Yes, that did come to mind. But I suppose there are no Xerxians left so you'd never know if you carried a drop or two of their blood." For one who could claim descent from the bloodline of Xerxes there remained a proud heritage in ruins. "Anyway, Sol, you're a very unusual person." There was always a chance he could prompt her to tell what he could not ask.
"I'm merely happy to be an individual, Major Mustang. I have a will of my own and I always stay true to it." The sun was beating down hard on every inch of Ishval, stinging sharpest of all on exposed Amestrian skin. Sol wiped sweat from her bare brow with the back of her sleeve. It seemed like that was all there was to do out here between the outbreaks of fighting: lose moisture and regain it. Her handkerchief would be soaked day in and day out if she put it to this task. However, as much as she might sweat, Sol was one of the lucky ones who tanned more than burned.
Roy automatically copied her gesture. There were streaks of sweat running down his cheeks. As for Sol's words, they weren't the best response he could have hoped for, but they also weren't the worst either. "That is the impression you've been giving off to me. You don't seem like the type who doubts her instincts very much."
"Ha ha ha," Sol giggled, "You understand me then to some degree, Mustang." She tugged at her stiff uniform collar. Maybe up at Briggs it was different, but out in Ishval, one just could not feel comfortable in the heavy uniforms of Resembool wool. Sol stripped off her jacket and flung it casually over her shoulder. The tight white tanktop she wore underneath was plastered against her skin. Strange or not, crazy or not, Sol had an amazing figure. It was Riza Hawkeye that Roy dreamt about at night, but Sol- now she was a woman. Lots of men had ogled her around camp until she was seen in action. Word of Sol's merciless laughter as she carried out their genocidal orders spread, and desire generally turned to disgust. Men still looked though. There was a lot of pent-up sexual tension around camp and few acceptable targets. Alex though...Alex didn't believe the words that circulated about Sol.
Roy could see him staring as he approached now. He was to kind for Sol and too gentle for the war. Despite his impulse to a higher standard, Roy could tell he was unable to wrest his eyes from Sol's breasts.
Sol obviously knew, but she granted her admirer a chance to believe he was sneaking a furtive glance. Then she broke the trance. "Look, Mustang. It's Armstrong." She waved at Alex, beckoning him over. "You coming in for a bit of rest, Alex?"
"Yes, Miss Sol. Am I interesting something?" Alex timidly reached into his pocket and pulled out his pale pink handkerchief to mop his brow. His distinctive brow furrowed at the sight of the bloodstained cloth. He couldn't touch it to his face as it was.
"No, come on over," Roy encouraged him.
"Here Alex," Sol offered him her own handkerchief. She dangled the fancy square of monogrammed cloth before him like the bronze ring at the carousel.
Alex reached out gingerly, nearly unable to accept that he was being allowed this prize. It felt as if his sweaty hand was soiling the bergamot-scented handkerchief at the slightest touch. Sol smiled benevolently upon her chosen knight as he daintily sniffed the lilac material, then touched it to his brow. "Thank you, Miss Sol."
Why, Roy wondered, couldn't Alex see Sol's venom? The sentimental giant was becoming completely entangled in Sol's invisible web. The longer things continued on this way, the more sure Roy became that the only way this could end for Alex was in heartbreak.
Sol and Alex stood side by side on the rise, looking out onto the barren sands of the east. Roy watched silently as Alex reached out and took Sol's miniature explosive hand in his own. Sol swayed lightly, leaning toward the Strongarm Alchemist.
Alex shifted his position and wrapped a brawny arm around Sol's slim waist. Soldiers who noticed pretended not to see. Nothing could arise but hassles from crossing Major Kimblee. There would only be a bittersweet-ness from confronting Major Armstrong.
"I think I could marry that woman," Alex confided in Roy.
Only through subtleties could Roy put forth the feeling deep in his heart and mind. "Alex, get away from her. Don't let yourself fall in love. This is the wrong time, the wrong place," he said, because he couldn't say, "She's the wrong one." His emotions could not change his comrade's heart.
Maes Hughes, on the lookout as usual, was the one who saw them kissing just outside Sol's tent. "I couldn't stand to stay and watch any longer than that," Maes admitted.
Roy's head drooped as he mourned the death of Alex's innocence.
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 1,913
Theme: Table 2, #1 chemistry
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implications of violence/general Kimblee creepiness.
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: Kimblee meets Roy and Armstrong (both still male in this universe)... This one plays around with a relationship between Kimblee and Armstrong (sort of a different take on what I wrote in (NSFW) Praise, brothers, your path)
"Ah, Bruna Mitsch!"
"Sol Kimblee!" There were few enough women fighting here in Ishval, let alone female alchemists, for them to ignore one another. What they had could only be considered a cool understanding. I other circumstances, neither would've chosen the other as a friend.
People didn't like to touch Sol's hands. Bruna, seeing it as the wiser course of action, behaved no differently. Sol was a loose cannon. Even if she didn't plan on hurting you, she had a bad habit of playing tricks. Sol and Bruna didn't shake hands when they encountered each other. Instead, they hugged, mixing the soot and grime and possibly blood on their uniforms.
Bruna specialized in drawing elements out of things. Sol specialized in blowing things up. Of course, no matter their methods, like all State Alchemists deployed to Ishval, they shared the duty of dealing death. They did not particularly enjoy each other's company, but circumstances tended to lump them together, so what was there to do?
When Sol strolled into the mess area that evening, freshly showered and attired after a long shift spent picking off stragglers in the desert, Bruna was sitting on a bench between two men. Sol knew them for fellow alchemists, but had spoken to neither and was thus unfamiliar with their particulars. "Educing," she greeted Bruna.
"Oh, Crimson Lotus." Bruna sounded practically cheerful. Sol wondered if her approach had freed her colleague from an awkward situation or topic. "Come sit down and let me introduce you to these two."
With less rapidity than Bruna, the men turned around to face Sol. As had been apparent from behind, one of them was absolutely huge- tall, sculpted, nearly hairless, with soulful baby blue eyes that contrasted with his imposing physique. "Alex Louis Armstrong," Bruna announced him. Sol knew the name.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Alex smiled. He shook Sol's hand, and although he glanced at the arrays tattooed there, he still treated her deadly weapons like a princess' dainty glove.
As she always did, Sol appraised him. Alex was a gentleman. And Sol liked that. She was a lady. He was also a bit younger and, she guessed, considerably more naive. In this time of war that would be to his disadvantage- but not necessarily to Sol's. "Sol J. Kimblee."
"The Crimson Lotus Alchemist," the other, somewhat Xingese-looking man supplied.
"Oh? My reputation proceeds me?" It was flattering. Sol tried her best not to come off as too vain. It was unbecoming.
"That's a pretty moniker." Alex kept on smiling. Sol favored him with a soft glance. Perhaps someone was developing a little crush?
"You might not want to learn what she's done to earn it then," the other man continued. His eyes were dark, cold. However long he'd been in Ishval, it was clear that he had seen some things (possibly situations of his own making) that he wanted to forget. His voice was low and dry and focused.
"Maybe," Sol ventured, "You have a reputation out here that will resonate with me too."
"Roy Mustang." He extended a weary white-gloved hand. There was some reluctance in the action, as if he felt he had no other choice in the matter, but no one was forcing him, so Sol could not quite trace its origin.
"The Flame Alchemist," she said, proving herself to be at least Roy's equal in the general scheme of around-camp knowledge. "I could say the same for you."
"Ha ha," Bruna croaked out her usual grating laugh, "You think 'Flame' is a pretty name, Sol?"
She didn't bother to answer. Sol didn't care what Bruna thought. This was between her and Roy. He was eyeing her suspiciously, curiously. There was plenty about Sol he had no idea about. While she actively chose to engage in a mood of softness with Alex, there was no acting behind the sparks she felt beginning to fly between herself and Roy (though the sort of sparks that blazed within her might not be quite the type he was thinking of).
"Miss Sol- may I call you Sol?- Won't you join us?" Alex simultaneously asked and offered, sliding over to make room for the fourth alchemist.
"How can I say no when you ask so nicely?" She accepted, moving and speaking with a demeanor well suited to advancing her budding ties to Alex. All the while, however, her eyes remained drawn, almost magnetically to Roy. He was a sharp cookie, this Roy Mustang. They were each putting up their best poker face in an attempt to read the other without themselves being deciphered. Sol could not deny she loved to face a worthy opponent. And Roy, she found herself thinking, was both formidable and handsome.
For Sol, this was the beginning of an interesting association with both alchemists. For Roy and Alex, as well as Bruna, the emotions and outcomes related to this relationship would be of a decidedly more complicated nature...
"Sol, are your eyes really gold or it is just a trick of light?" This question had been on Roy's mind for the past week, along with several infinitely more weighty and complicated ones. Perhaps he had settled for asking this one miniscule thing because his other inquiries could not be voiced. Sol was beautiful, but she was also frightening- and the more he thought about her, the more horrible and terrifying he found her (How did you go about asking someone, "Are you a psychopath?").
"Yes, they're yellow." She didn't know where that characteristic had come from (her father was always quick to claim that it, like other qualities he didn't care for in Sol, came from her mother's family), but she liked this sly, feline look, as well as the boost it gave her ability to unnerve strangers.
"They're, um...they're really quite striking." Roy seemed somewhat stuck for words, but Sol knew as well as he did that he was tongue-tied by the other things on his mind, not by her beauty. "Actually, they remind me of something, but I can't quite put my finger on what..."
"I've been told that gold eyes were common among the people of Xerxes," Sol offered. She didn't know what he was searching for in the vast libraries of his mind, but it was a remark she'd heard enough before. She knew that Roy had studied extensively in his chosen field due to the technical complexity of his preferred technique.
"Yes, that did come to mind. But I suppose there are no Xerxians left so you'd never know if you carried a drop or two of their blood." For one who could claim descent from the bloodline of Xerxes there remained a proud heritage in ruins. "Anyway, Sol, you're a very unusual person." There was always a chance he could prompt her to tell what he could not ask.
"I'm merely happy to be an individual, Major Mustang. I have a will of my own and I always stay true to it." The sun was beating down hard on every inch of Ishval, stinging sharpest of all on exposed Amestrian skin. Sol wiped sweat from her bare brow with the back of her sleeve. It seemed like that was all there was to do out here between the outbreaks of fighting: lose moisture and regain it. Her handkerchief would be soaked day in and day out if she put it to this task. However, as much as she might sweat, Sol was one of the lucky ones who tanned more than burned.
Roy automatically copied her gesture. There were streaks of sweat running down his cheeks. As for Sol's words, they weren't the best response he could have hoped for, but they also weren't the worst either. "That is the impression you've been giving off to me. You don't seem like the type who doubts her instincts very much."
"Ha ha ha," Sol giggled, "You understand me then to some degree, Mustang." She tugged at her stiff uniform collar. Maybe up at Briggs it was different, but out in Ishval, one just could not feel comfortable in the heavy uniforms of Resembool wool. Sol stripped off her jacket and flung it casually over her shoulder. The tight white tanktop she wore underneath was plastered against her skin. Strange or not, crazy or not, Sol had an amazing figure. It was Riza Hawkeye that Roy dreamt about at night, but Sol- now she was a woman. Lots of men had ogled her around camp until she was seen in action. Word of Sol's merciless laughter as she carried out their genocidal orders spread, and desire generally turned to disgust. Men still looked though. There was a lot of pent-up sexual tension around camp and few acceptable targets. Alex though...Alex didn't believe the words that circulated about Sol.
Roy could see him staring as he approached now. He was to kind for Sol and too gentle for the war. Despite his impulse to a higher standard, Roy could tell he was unable to wrest his eyes from Sol's breasts.
Sol obviously knew, but she granted her admirer a chance to believe he was sneaking a furtive glance. Then she broke the trance. "Look, Mustang. It's Armstrong." She waved at Alex, beckoning him over. "You coming in for a bit of rest, Alex?"
"Yes, Miss Sol. Am I interesting something?" Alex timidly reached into his pocket and pulled out his pale pink handkerchief to mop his brow. His distinctive brow furrowed at the sight of the bloodstained cloth. He couldn't touch it to his face as it was.
"No, come on over," Roy encouraged him.
"Here Alex," Sol offered him her own handkerchief. She dangled the fancy square of monogrammed cloth before him like the bronze ring at the carousel.
Alex reached out gingerly, nearly unable to accept that he was being allowed this prize. It felt as if his sweaty hand was soiling the bergamot-scented handkerchief at the slightest touch. Sol smiled benevolently upon her chosen knight as he daintily sniffed the lilac material, then touched it to his brow. "Thank you, Miss Sol."
Why, Roy wondered, couldn't Alex see Sol's venom? The sentimental giant was becoming completely entangled in Sol's invisible web. The longer things continued on this way, the more sure Roy became that the only way this could end for Alex was in heartbreak.
Sol and Alex stood side by side on the rise, looking out onto the barren sands of the east. Roy watched silently as Alex reached out and took Sol's miniature explosive hand in his own. Sol swayed lightly, leaning toward the Strongarm Alchemist.
Alex shifted his position and wrapped a brawny arm around Sol's slim waist. Soldiers who noticed pretended not to see. Nothing could arise but hassles from crossing Major Kimblee. There would only be a bittersweet-ness from confronting Major Armstrong.
"I think I could marry that woman," Alex confided in Roy.
Only through subtleties could Roy put forth the feeling deep in his heart and mind. "Alex, get away from her. Don't let yourself fall in love. This is the wrong time, the wrong place," he said, because he couldn't say, "She's the wrong one." His emotions could not change his comrade's heart.
Maes Hughes, on the lookout as usual, was the one who saw them kissing just outside Sol's tent. "I couldn't stand to stay and watch any longer than that," Maes admitted.
Roy's head drooped as he mourned the death of Alex's innocence.