FMA Greed/Al Space fic
Devil’s Number
by gelfling
Greed/Al
Full Metal Alchemist
#6 the space between dream and reality
Disclaimer: Characters nor series mine, no money made in the process.
Warnings: This one came out dark--warning. Not dark as in angsty dark, but dark as in I'm-In-One-Of-Those-Moods dark.
The space between dreams and reality is small. The space between chance and destiny is small. The space between ownership and theft is small.
There is nothing that cannot be stolen. People say you can’t buy love, but you can-you just can’t keep it very long, but love tends not to last long anyway. People say you can’t buy life, but you can-you just have to know where to look. The nice thing about theft was that it was quick and simple: you want it, you take, and you run or you kill whoever gets in your way or sometimes (usually) do both at the same time, but either way you vamoose with your treasure clutched close.
It went against his nature to belong to anyone. It went against his nature to be in debt to anyone--he hated with a passion usually reserved family feuds and bloody politics. He could stand not having absolutely everything because that was a lot to ask for, a lot to get and even harder to keep, but he refused to be in debt to anyone.
He was half-tempted to kill the kid.
No mistake, the kid was a nice kid, blonde and acted like it, but a nice kid. Polite, reserved, considerate; very nice kid, funny at times too, with lips that smiled easily and would probably be pleasant to kiss. Tempting little kid, handsome little body. Wasn’t his fault he’d been the one to rescue him, but he had and that put him in his debt and that annoyed the hell out of him. Annoyed and bothered and beleagured him to no end--he hated it.
It was more than his name. Their titles had just been names to the others, but it had always been more than just a name to him: It had been him. It had been a description. It had been a job.
The space between life and death was just as small.
Greed never resisted temptation when he didn’t have to. What was the point of living if you weren’t having fun?
“Sorry kid,” he says half-heartedly, with a faint grin on his lips even though he’s trying to be somber because the situation says he should be, what with the warm blood on his own cold dead hands, remembering all of Alphonse’s quirky little habits while the remains stain the floor. “That’s just luck…”
by gelfling
Greed/Al
Full Metal Alchemist
#6 the space between dream and reality
Disclaimer: Characters nor series mine, no money made in the process.
Warnings: This one came out dark--warning. Not dark as in angsty dark, but dark as in I'm-In-One-Of-Those-Moods dark.
The space between dreams and reality is small. The space between chance and destiny is small. The space between ownership and theft is small.
There is nothing that cannot be stolen. People say you can’t buy love, but you can-you just can’t keep it very long, but love tends not to last long anyway. People say you can’t buy life, but you can-you just have to know where to look. The nice thing about theft was that it was quick and simple: you want it, you take, and you run or you kill whoever gets in your way or sometimes (usually) do both at the same time, but either way you vamoose with your treasure clutched close.
It went against his nature to belong to anyone. It went against his nature to be in debt to anyone--he hated with a passion usually reserved family feuds and bloody politics. He could stand not having absolutely everything because that was a lot to ask for, a lot to get and even harder to keep, but he refused to be in debt to anyone.
He was half-tempted to kill the kid.
No mistake, the kid was a nice kid, blonde and acted like it, but a nice kid. Polite, reserved, considerate; very nice kid, funny at times too, with lips that smiled easily and would probably be pleasant to kiss. Tempting little kid, handsome little body. Wasn’t his fault he’d been the one to rescue him, but he had and that put him in his debt and that annoyed the hell out of him. Annoyed and bothered and beleagured him to no end--he hated it.
It was more than his name. Their titles had just been names to the others, but it had always been more than just a name to him: It had been him. It had been a description. It had been a job.
The space between life and death was just as small.
Greed never resisted temptation when he didn’t have to. What was the point of living if you weren’t having fun?
“Sorry kid,” he says half-heartedly, with a faint grin on his lips even though he’s trying to be somber because the situation says he should be, what with the warm blood on his own cold dead hands, remembering all of Alphonse’s quirky little habits while the remains stain the floor. “That’s just luck…”