FIC: Never Been Kissed - 2/?
Title: Never Been Kissed
Author: drummerdancer
Verse: None
Characters/Pairings: Entire cast, eventual Roy/Ed
Word Count: ~2400
Rating: T
Summary: The bets are out when Al unwittingly reveals his brother's never kissed a girl. But is it true? And who exactly is Roy betting on to steal that first smooch? Eventual Roy/Ed.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the lovely Half Demon Alchemist for looking this over *dazzles you with Armstrong's sparkles*
The rules were completed that early afternoon, and bets were placed by the end of the day. As divided as everyone had been, nobody seemed to think Ed would go without being kissed by the end of two months. After all, to a teenager, two months was an eternity, and for someone as startling as Ed was, it was only a matter of time.
News of the bet spread like wildfire in the barracks, and by Wednesday morning, a grand total of 23 bets had been placed, a good deal of them by young female privates hoping to be the girl he kissed. No sooner had Roy Mustang walked in, however, did the book get pushed aside in favor of "Good morning, Colonel!" and "May I get you a cup of coffee, Colonel?"
Lieutenant Hawkeye was quick to unlatch the safety on her pistol, shooing the now starstruck privates away. Colonel Mustang ignored all of them, though, stepping into his office without even the slightest attempt at 'hello'.
The door clicking shut surprised all of them, including his staff standing around.
"I wonder what's his problem," Havoc said as he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. A bullet knocked it out of his hand and onto the floor, unlit and broken.
Breda smirked. "He's probably hungover."
"On a Wednesday?" Fuery asked. "That seems unlikely."
"Ladies, if you don't mind." Hawkeye was standing up now, motioning for the privates to leave. "This matter is of no concern to yourselves."
No sooner had the last private left, though, did the hallway explode into a loud chorus of "Good morning, Edward!" and "May I get you a cup of coffee, Edward?" And, same as before, the object of their affection ignored them, stalking into the office muttering, 'damn bastard's gonna give me my research budget back!' before the inner office door closed, leaving the office again in a sort of shocked silence.
"...well, that was odd," said Hawkeye as she pocketed her gun. They waited for the telltale signs of yelling...
...and were soon rewarded for their patience.
"Who are you calling so short you can't see them behind your paperwork?"
The office relaxed. The universe was still spinning on its axis.
***
Edward gritted his teeth and tried to remember how to breathe. It was bad enough that his brother had woken him by way of rolling him off his mattress at seven in the morning, but now, to realize that Mustang had lied to him...
"I didn't lie to you, Edward," Colonel Mustang said cooly. "I said come back in the morning with a good reason and I'd be more than happy to reopen your account."
"I do have a good reason, you bastard!" Edward was trying not to shout but it was too damn difficult; Mustang got under his skin like no other person he'd ever known. The salamander was the symbol for fire but the snake was the symbol for Mustang; a slithery, slimy bastard who always said one thing but meant something else entirely.
Mustang was now leaning back in his chair playing with a paperweight of a brown dog, his eyes off somewhere else. The thought of strangling the man did come to mind, but then that would be just too easy. If Edward ever did decide to kill the man, it would be long, drawn-out, and delicious.
"'Buying books' and 'restoring Al' are not valid reasons to re-instate your account," Colonel Mustang said, twirling the dog around on his fingertips. "You can check the books out at the library for free and we both know money isn't what you're really after in regards to Al's body. No, I see no reason to give you back your funds."
Edward was seeing red. "You. Fuckin-"
"That's all, Fullmetal. You're dismissed."
Edward's automail hand almost, almost swung out and hit Mustang upside the head. He was shaking from the effort not to strike him. The man absolutely infuriated him. But Al was waiting for him back at the dorms and Ed knew he wouldn't appreciate bailing his brother out of jail for murder so...
With extreme effort and control, Ed left Mustang's private office, the only sign of his pent up aggression his force in closing the door. He was doing good, really good, he just had to get out of the outer office and-
"Hey, Boss!" said Havoc in an overtly cheery manner as he came right up to Ed, slapping him on the shoulder with his hand.
Ed was not in the mood for this. "Lieutenant, would ya mind movin' your-"
"So Breda and I know this girl..."
Edward ducked around Havoc. "Yeah, sounds great, maybe another time." The outer office door shut behind him and he was free.
Ed stomped his way back to the dorms.
***
Fuery, Falman, and Hawkeye were cackling as Havoc and Breda gaped at the door. How the hell had Ed gotten out of the office so fast?
"Now, when you said 'watch and learn'," Fuery echoed, looking on towards where Ed left, "was Ed supposed to leave before you set him up or-"
"Shut up, Fuery," Havoc scowled. "The only reason that happened is because the chief riled him up. No way does the boss not want to go on a date with a pretty girl."
"But in three day's time?" Hawkeye was looking over the bets, now written in ink. "I think you and Breda might be wrong on this one."
"No way," Breda said, pounding his chest. "We got this one in the bag."
The rest of the office continued with raised looks. Havoc glared before shuffling back to his desk. "We'll ask him later, when he's calmed down. It'll be a piece of cake."
"With buttercream frosting," added Breda, his eyes going glazed as he patted his stomach and glanced at his desktop. Among his many trinkets and clutter, one of his chess pieces had been knocked over; the castle.
Breda righted it and and began to plan their next course of action.
***
Edward didn't usually visit the military gym at Central HQ, but when he arrived back to a dorm whose sole occupant was a single scrap of notebook paper ("Be back soon. Don't get into a fight. Don't destroy property. Don't try to use alchemy to fix it. -Al"), he realized sitting around with nothing but plasterboard wall to punch wasn't going to cut it. Not to mention, Al explicitly telling him not to do that very thing meant he really, really shouldn't do it.
So he went back, bypassing the main entrance as he traveled to the gym behind the main building, fisting his hands in his coat pockets as he glared hotly at anyone who met his eye.
He hated it when people stared.
The gym wasn't air conditioned nor was it in the best condition. It was as old as Amestris itself and was always the last building to receive upgrades. And, judging by the paint-chipped walls and holes in the rafters, it was probably at the top of the waiting list at the moment, lingering precariously for the meager funds to keep it afloat.
Edward entered through the locker room side and found his assigned cubicle, cursing when he realized he didn't remember the combination. He hardly ever came here-whenever he usually got worked up, Al sparred with him until his limbs felt like jello pudding. But Al wasn't at the dorms.
I wonder where he's at, Ed thought as he clapped and broke the lock.
Inside were a pair of military issued sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. The short-sleeved shirt had never been worn.
Edward grabbed the long-sleeved shirt and pants and shut the locker door.
He glanced around.
He didn't hear anybody wandering around, but...
Ed headed to the stalls to change.
***
Al hadn't lied when he said he was going out. It had been the truth, the absolute truth, not a hint of deceit to it whatsoever.
...except Al also hadn't said where he was going, either. And that wasn't an entirely honest thing to do.
Al scanned another bookshelf, his leather gauntlet sliding across the bookends. He wasn't in an entirely unusual place; in fact, truth be told, he was in the Second Branch of the Central Library, the part open to the public. Regular civilians were musing along the bookshelves right alongside him, some giving him strange looks that he had come to expect while others ignored him entirely as they stuffed their noses between pages and continued on in their quest for the perfect book for afternoon reading.
As far as Al knew, Ed had never been to this part of the library. Only the most rudimentary of alchemy texts were located here. All the rest were at the First Branch, the part of the library they usually visited devoted entirely to alchemy and the sciences.
Al scanned another shelf. If he'd said he was going to the library, Ed would've came too. And that wouldn't have worked because he'd have been in the wrong branch and made the horrible assumption something bad had happened to Al when he found no suit of armor in their regular spot.
And if he'd said he was going to be at the Second Branch, Ed would've wanted to know why.
Al's armor flashed pink under his eyes. After what happened at headquarters yesterday, Al couldn't help but feel embarrassed for even thinking of asking Colonel Mustang's staff about girls. They were all a decade or more older than him; duh, of course they knew. In fact, by how they talked about them, they probably knew them a bit too well.
Al grabbed a book at random to hide his scarleting face. Yes, asking them had been a bad idea. But who else was he supposed to ask?
Ed?
Al pretended to swallow. Yes, logically he should ask his older brother, but apparently said brother simply defied logic or something. He never once seemed interested; just alchemy alchemy alchemy, we're going to get your body back, Al, alchemy alchemy alchemy...nothing else. Was he really so single-minded that he didn't even want to try to be social every once in a while?
A dark ball of something else settled in his stomach. Or did he feel too guilty about Al to try?
There were people standing on either side of the shelf he was looking at, staring intently at him. Al blinked then whispered 'sorry' as he grabbed a few books and headed for the checkout counter, his helmet hunched in thought.
Maybe Ed just wasn't interested yet. Or maybe he was embarrassed like Al was and just didn't want to talk about it. That was his typical mode of action; hold everything in, tight like a fist, until it becomes too hard to hold onto. Maybe he'd just explode into a rant about it and then everything would be okay again.
Until then...Al slowed down. Perhaps another book on the molecular structure of a hibiscus would appease him.
***
"Sir, why aren't you doing your paperwork?"
Roy Mustang's eyes flew open faster than that of a sharpshooter's speeding bullet. Lieutenant Hawkeye was standing in front of his desk, paperwork in hand, frowning at him, creases deep above her eyes. Her other hand was creeping up towards her pistol. Roy paled and tried to figure out what was going on. He'd been dreaming about blood-red money...
Oh no, I didn't fall asleep, did I?
He shook his head. No, after Fullmetal had stopped by, he'd just closed his eyes briefly. Sure, he'd had a late night at Chris's, sure his sleep had been restless and short, but he couldn't have been out for more than, what, five, ten minutes? Maybe fifteen...?
He found the clock on his desk; 11:17. Almost four hours?
And Roy had a meeting for lunch at 11:30. He needed to be leaving.
Hawkeye was still glaring at him, though. Roy hesitated before giving her his best apologetic look, preparing to stand.
"I appreciate the concern, Lieutenant-"
"Sir, forgive me for interrupting, but where do you think you're going?"
Ah, damn. "I, um, have a meeting at-"
"Sir, look at your desk."
Roy looked down. Most of the paperwork from yesterday had never gotten done and was scattered like a messy mosaic of black print all across the top of it. Or was that because he'd fallen asleep on it? He couldn't remember what it had looked like previously.
And Hawkeye had more paper at hand currently.
Oh boy, this doesn't look good.
Trying to avoid a lecture that would stall him from making his appointment, Roy reached out and took the paperwork. "I'll do these at lunch."
Her glare deepened. "Those are meant to be done in the office, sir."
"Well, as you can see," Roy said, making a grand gesture with his head, "there is clearly no room in here to do such a thing. Thus, I must find another suitable location, preferably somewhere local I can also get a bite to eat. No harm done, Lieutenant."
"Sir-"
"-Well, I must be off." Roy didn't wait for her reply; he shuffled the stack to one arm and grabbed his coat from the rack and left, feeling the weight of chestnut eyes bore a straight path through the back of his neck.
But there was no time to grovel for her good graces. He had a meeting to catch whether she liked it or not.
A quick glance at the top sheet in his stack told him he had a fax from one General Brookshire.
"Hm. This should be interesting."
Fake cut @ fm_alchemist & steelandsparks
Author: drummerdancer
Verse: None
Characters/Pairings: Entire cast, eventual Roy/Ed
Word Count: ~2400
Rating: T
Summary: The bets are out when Al unwittingly reveals his brother's never kissed a girl. But is it true? And who exactly is Roy betting on to steal that first smooch? Eventual Roy/Ed.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the lovely Half Demon Alchemist for looking this over *dazzles you with Armstrong's sparkles*
The rules were completed that early afternoon, and bets were placed by the end of the day. As divided as everyone had been, nobody seemed to think Ed would go without being kissed by the end of two months. After all, to a teenager, two months was an eternity, and for someone as startling as Ed was, it was only a matter of time.
News of the bet spread like wildfire in the barracks, and by Wednesday morning, a grand total of 23 bets had been placed, a good deal of them by young female privates hoping to be the girl he kissed. No sooner had Roy Mustang walked in, however, did the book get pushed aside in favor of "Good morning, Colonel!" and "May I get you a cup of coffee, Colonel?"
Lieutenant Hawkeye was quick to unlatch the safety on her pistol, shooing the now starstruck privates away. Colonel Mustang ignored all of them, though, stepping into his office without even the slightest attempt at 'hello'.
The door clicking shut surprised all of them, including his staff standing around.
"I wonder what's his problem," Havoc said as he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. A bullet knocked it out of his hand and onto the floor, unlit and broken.
Breda smirked. "He's probably hungover."
"On a Wednesday?" Fuery asked. "That seems unlikely."
"Ladies, if you don't mind." Hawkeye was standing up now, motioning for the privates to leave. "This matter is of no concern to yourselves."
No sooner had the last private left, though, did the hallway explode into a loud chorus of "Good morning, Edward!" and "May I get you a cup of coffee, Edward?" And, same as before, the object of their affection ignored them, stalking into the office muttering, 'damn bastard's gonna give me my research budget back!' before the inner office door closed, leaving the office again in a sort of shocked silence.
"...well, that was odd," said Hawkeye as she pocketed her gun. They waited for the telltale signs of yelling...
...and were soon rewarded for their patience.
"Who are you calling so short you can't see them behind your paperwork?"
The office relaxed. The universe was still spinning on its axis.
***
Edward gritted his teeth and tried to remember how to breathe. It was bad enough that his brother had woken him by way of rolling him off his mattress at seven in the morning, but now, to realize that Mustang had lied to him...
"I didn't lie to you, Edward," Colonel Mustang said cooly. "I said come back in the morning with a good reason and I'd be more than happy to reopen your account."
"I do have a good reason, you bastard!" Edward was trying not to shout but it was too damn difficult; Mustang got under his skin like no other person he'd ever known. The salamander was the symbol for fire but the snake was the symbol for Mustang; a slithery, slimy bastard who always said one thing but meant something else entirely.
Mustang was now leaning back in his chair playing with a paperweight of a brown dog, his eyes off somewhere else. The thought of strangling the man did come to mind, but then that would be just too easy. If Edward ever did decide to kill the man, it would be long, drawn-out, and delicious.
"'Buying books' and 'restoring Al' are not valid reasons to re-instate your account," Colonel Mustang said, twirling the dog around on his fingertips. "You can check the books out at the library for free and we both know money isn't what you're really after in regards to Al's body. No, I see no reason to give you back your funds."
Edward was seeing red. "You. Fuckin-"
"That's all, Fullmetal. You're dismissed."
Edward's automail hand almost, almost swung out and hit Mustang upside the head. He was shaking from the effort not to strike him. The man absolutely infuriated him. But Al was waiting for him back at the dorms and Ed knew he wouldn't appreciate bailing his brother out of jail for murder so...
With extreme effort and control, Ed left Mustang's private office, the only sign of his pent up aggression his force in closing the door. He was doing good, really good, he just had to get out of the outer office and-
"Hey, Boss!" said Havoc in an overtly cheery manner as he came right up to Ed, slapping him on the shoulder with his hand.
Ed was not in the mood for this. "Lieutenant, would ya mind movin' your-"
"So Breda and I know this girl..."
Edward ducked around Havoc. "Yeah, sounds great, maybe another time." The outer office door shut behind him and he was free.
Ed stomped his way back to the dorms.
***
Fuery, Falman, and Hawkeye were cackling as Havoc and Breda gaped at the door. How the hell had Ed gotten out of the office so fast?
"Now, when you said 'watch and learn'," Fuery echoed, looking on towards where Ed left, "was Ed supposed to leave before you set him up or-"
"Shut up, Fuery," Havoc scowled. "The only reason that happened is because the chief riled him up. No way does the boss not want to go on a date with a pretty girl."
"But in three day's time?" Hawkeye was looking over the bets, now written in ink. "I think you and Breda might be wrong on this one."
"No way," Breda said, pounding his chest. "We got this one in the bag."
The rest of the office continued with raised looks. Havoc glared before shuffling back to his desk. "We'll ask him later, when he's calmed down. It'll be a piece of cake."
"With buttercream frosting," added Breda, his eyes going glazed as he patted his stomach and glanced at his desktop. Among his many trinkets and clutter, one of his chess pieces had been knocked over; the castle.
Breda righted it and and began to plan their next course of action.
***
Edward didn't usually visit the military gym at Central HQ, but when he arrived back to a dorm whose sole occupant was a single scrap of notebook paper ("Be back soon. Don't get into a fight. Don't destroy property. Don't try to use alchemy to fix it. -Al"), he realized sitting around with nothing but plasterboard wall to punch wasn't going to cut it. Not to mention, Al explicitly telling him not to do that very thing meant he really, really shouldn't do it.
So he went back, bypassing the main entrance as he traveled to the gym behind the main building, fisting his hands in his coat pockets as he glared hotly at anyone who met his eye.
He hated it when people stared.
The gym wasn't air conditioned nor was it in the best condition. It was as old as Amestris itself and was always the last building to receive upgrades. And, judging by the paint-chipped walls and holes in the rafters, it was probably at the top of the waiting list at the moment, lingering precariously for the meager funds to keep it afloat.
Edward entered through the locker room side and found his assigned cubicle, cursing when he realized he didn't remember the combination. He hardly ever came here-whenever he usually got worked up, Al sparred with him until his limbs felt like jello pudding. But Al wasn't at the dorms.
I wonder where he's at, Ed thought as he clapped and broke the lock.
Inside were a pair of military issued sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. The short-sleeved shirt had never been worn.
Edward grabbed the long-sleeved shirt and pants and shut the locker door.
He glanced around.
He didn't hear anybody wandering around, but...
Ed headed to the stalls to change.
***
Al hadn't lied when he said he was going out. It had been the truth, the absolute truth, not a hint of deceit to it whatsoever.
...except Al also hadn't said where he was going, either. And that wasn't an entirely honest thing to do.
Al scanned another bookshelf, his leather gauntlet sliding across the bookends. He wasn't in an entirely unusual place; in fact, truth be told, he was in the Second Branch of the Central Library, the part open to the public. Regular civilians were musing along the bookshelves right alongside him, some giving him strange looks that he had come to expect while others ignored him entirely as they stuffed their noses between pages and continued on in their quest for the perfect book for afternoon reading.
As far as Al knew, Ed had never been to this part of the library. Only the most rudimentary of alchemy texts were located here. All the rest were at the First Branch, the part of the library they usually visited devoted entirely to alchemy and the sciences.
Al scanned another shelf. If he'd said he was going to the library, Ed would've came too. And that wouldn't have worked because he'd have been in the wrong branch and made the horrible assumption something bad had happened to Al when he found no suit of armor in their regular spot.
And if he'd said he was going to be at the Second Branch, Ed would've wanted to know why.
Al's armor flashed pink under his eyes. After what happened at headquarters yesterday, Al couldn't help but feel embarrassed for even thinking of asking Colonel Mustang's staff about girls. They were all a decade or more older than him; duh, of course they knew. In fact, by how they talked about them, they probably knew them a bit too well.
Al grabbed a book at random to hide his scarleting face. Yes, asking them had been a bad idea. But who else was he supposed to ask?
Ed?
Al pretended to swallow. Yes, logically he should ask his older brother, but apparently said brother simply defied logic or something. He never once seemed interested; just alchemy alchemy alchemy, we're going to get your body back, Al, alchemy alchemy alchemy...nothing else. Was he really so single-minded that he didn't even want to try to be social every once in a while?
A dark ball of something else settled in his stomach. Or did he feel too guilty about Al to try?
There were people standing on either side of the shelf he was looking at, staring intently at him. Al blinked then whispered 'sorry' as he grabbed a few books and headed for the checkout counter, his helmet hunched in thought.
Maybe Ed just wasn't interested yet. Or maybe he was embarrassed like Al was and just didn't want to talk about it. That was his typical mode of action; hold everything in, tight like a fist, until it becomes too hard to hold onto. Maybe he'd just explode into a rant about it and then everything would be okay again.
Until then...Al slowed down. Perhaps another book on the molecular structure of a hibiscus would appease him.
***
"Sir, why aren't you doing your paperwork?"
Roy Mustang's eyes flew open faster than that of a sharpshooter's speeding bullet. Lieutenant Hawkeye was standing in front of his desk, paperwork in hand, frowning at him, creases deep above her eyes. Her other hand was creeping up towards her pistol. Roy paled and tried to figure out what was going on. He'd been dreaming about blood-red money...
Oh no, I didn't fall asleep, did I?
He shook his head. No, after Fullmetal had stopped by, he'd just closed his eyes briefly. Sure, he'd had a late night at Chris's, sure his sleep had been restless and short, but he couldn't have been out for more than, what, five, ten minutes? Maybe fifteen...?
He found the clock on his desk; 11:17. Almost four hours?
And Roy had a meeting for lunch at 11:30. He needed to be leaving.
Hawkeye was still glaring at him, though. Roy hesitated before giving her his best apologetic look, preparing to stand.
"I appreciate the concern, Lieutenant-"
"Sir, forgive me for interrupting, but where do you think you're going?"
Ah, damn. "I, um, have a meeting at-"
"Sir, look at your desk."
Roy looked down. Most of the paperwork from yesterday had never gotten done and was scattered like a messy mosaic of black print all across the top of it. Or was that because he'd fallen asleep on it? He couldn't remember what it had looked like previously.
And Hawkeye had more paper at hand currently.
Oh boy, this doesn't look good.
Trying to avoid a lecture that would stall him from making his appointment, Roy reached out and took the paperwork. "I'll do these at lunch."
Her glare deepened. "Those are meant to be done in the office, sir."
"Well, as you can see," Roy said, making a grand gesture with his head, "there is clearly no room in here to do such a thing. Thus, I must find another suitable location, preferably somewhere local I can also get a bite to eat. No harm done, Lieutenant."
"Sir-"
"-Well, I must be off." Roy didn't wait for her reply; he shuffled the stack to one arm and grabbed his coat from the rack and left, feeling the weight of chestnut eyes bore a straight path through the back of his neck.
But there was no time to grovel for her good graces. He had a meeting to catch whether she liked it or not.
A quick glance at the top sheet in his stack told him he had a fax from one General Brookshire.
"Hm. This should be interesting."
Fake cut @ fm_alchemist & steelandsparks