FIC: Bad Feeling Mornings (PG-13) - Fullmetal Alchemist
Title: Bad Feeling Mornings
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1201
Completed: October 2, 2013
Challenge: writerverse 24 Hour Challenge A
Prompt: Friday the 13th
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: It's been a while since I've written anything worth something. I'm glad to see I can still write.
Summary: On an early morning, Ed's summoned to Mustang's office for a reason he can't understand.
Superstition is bullshit. As a scientist, Ed knows this and anyone stupid enough to believe it deserves what happens to him. Some people would call alchemy black magic in a form but they’re just ignorant idiots who don’t realize it’s just science.
Al always tells him to be nice when they met people like that but why should he? He’s not here to cater to their beliefs or make them believe that their world is exactly like they think it is. He’s here to fix a problem then move on. It’s the part of the job description most people in the military forget. Not him. He stomps all over those stupid regulations Mustang tries to force him into following.
He knows all this but there’s a lump in his throat and he’s been antsy all day. It’s just another day like any other. His throat’s felt gritty since the moment he woke up. It reminds him too much of the time he spent in Resembool digging up the remains of the homunculus he and Al created all those years ago.
His boots strike the concrete with a light thump, slightly louder with his left foot. No one’s ever made a comment about it but it annoys him to no end. Fucking automail doesn’t even let him pretend to be close to normal. He’s never cared about being normal but it doesn’t let him be as sneaky as he would like and with his current position sometimes he seriously needs it.
The fabric of his uniform coat itches at his neck and he yanks on the collar. It doesn’t help much and he scowls up at the big giant building he’s now standing in the shadow of. Mustang’s ordered him to the office today for some stupid reason. He’s never here this early, usually sauntering in around lunch to give any reports the bastard might want out of him. The bastard knows this. The bastard should also know he doesn’t have anything new to report anyway. There hasn’t been enough time.
Everything about today seems off and he’s in a bad mood as a result. Ed’s not stupid. He knows when something’s up and with the way the bastard didn’t tell him anything wasn’t a help. Al had to shove him out the door, half awake, with toast crumbs still on his lips. It wasn’t the best way to start the morning having Al laugh at him and make him go somewhere he really didn’t want to go.
It’s late enough he’s missed the early morning traffic so there’s nothing echoing off the stone columns and buildings around him. Most people are already in their offices or doing whatever so the hallways are deathly quiet. His shoulders hunch and he tries to school the scowl off his face when he manages to run into the one or two people that roam the halls of Central Command.
He hates the bastard even more with every step he takes. He hates the feel of heat rising on his face and the uncertainty that accompanies this stupid visit. What’s so fucking important the bastard had to have him come in this early?
Lights glint off the brass doorknobs of each door he passes. No brass plates with names have appeared yet or maybe the bastard moved them around. Ed counts off the doors he passes just to have something to do. He’s never been an optimist. No point in that when he needed to fix Al. All that was allowed was realism and the ever evolving quest to find the next answer. Being an optimist would’ve only fucked things up.
He stares at the office door with Mustang’s name on it and takes a deep breath then scowls at himself. He yanks the door open with his normal force and stomps in. He expects bowed heads and a “yo” from Havoc but he gets neither. The office is deserted. It’s as quiet as it was out in the halls and a shiver goes down Ed’s spine. What the fuck? Mustang’s unit is always here when he visits. There’s never a time they haven’t been.
The bastard needs Hawkeye to keep him in line as it is. At least the cover story they have depends on it. Everything else is up in the air, adapted as necessary for the purposes of whatever they’re doing. But it’s the first time in a long time, he doesn’t see Hawkeye lurking somewhere around in the office.
He walks along the row of desks and raps his knuckles on the edge lightly. The soft sounds let him know he hasn’t been transported into some weird dream world. He wakes up too many times from nightmares where he’s still in the military and he still hasn’t fixed Al. Everything else is just like it is right now.
He shoves open Mustang’s inner office door with a slam. “You wanted to see me?”
Mustang turns from his spot at the door and Ed blinks when he sees he’s dressed casually. No uniform in sight. The collar of his shirt’s undone like he just stepped out of his house into his office. He smiles at Ed then arches an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to come in your uniform, Edward.”
He motions for Ed to close the door and he does warily. This isn’t what he was expecting at all. It’s much more intimate what with the curtains half drawn and no one else here. What the does the bastard have planned?
Ed walks to the front of the desk and crosses his arms. His heart’s beating faster for no reason and suddenly he can’t fucking swallow. What the hell? He watches Mustang frown at him as he moves from the window and comes around to him. He rests a hand on his shoulder and the thumpthump of his heart reaches his ears. There’s too much heat from Mustang’s hand to be normal. Did something get to him last night? Was there a plot?
“Edward.” Mustang’s voice is never that soft or gentle. “Did you forget what day it was?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s just a day like any other day.” That makes the bastard laugh at him then he’s tugging off his uniform jacket. Ed fights him at first, not sure what the hell’s going on, but when the idiot doesn’t stop he helps him get it off.
Mustang reaches up to trace his fingers along his jaw and Ed bites his lip at the cool glide of them against his skin. Randomly he realizes his lips are chapped and what the hell? He hasn’t been in the harsh conditions of the East or the North recently. They shouldn’t be like that.
“Edward, look at me.” Ed lifts his eyes to Mustang’s and there’s a warmth there that makes his insides flip flop like he ate something bad. Actually, maybe it's his breakfast about to make a reappearance.
“What?”
Mustang shakes his head and those cool fingers cup the back of his neck, massaging at the tension in his shoulders. Mustang leans in those extra couple inches and kisses him deeply then murmurs against his lips, “Happy anniversary, Edward.”
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1201
Completed: October 2, 2013
Challenge: writerverse 24 Hour Challenge A
Prompt: Friday the 13th
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: It's been a while since I've written anything worth something. I'm glad to see I can still write.
Summary: On an early morning, Ed's summoned to Mustang's office for a reason he can't understand.
Superstition is bullshit. As a scientist, Ed knows this and anyone stupid enough to believe it deserves what happens to him. Some people would call alchemy black magic in a form but they’re just ignorant idiots who don’t realize it’s just science.
Al always tells him to be nice when they met people like that but why should he? He’s not here to cater to their beliefs or make them believe that their world is exactly like they think it is. He’s here to fix a problem then move on. It’s the part of the job description most people in the military forget. Not him. He stomps all over those stupid regulations Mustang tries to force him into following.
He knows all this but there’s a lump in his throat and he’s been antsy all day. It’s just another day like any other. His throat’s felt gritty since the moment he woke up. It reminds him too much of the time he spent in Resembool digging up the remains of the homunculus he and Al created all those years ago.
His boots strike the concrete with a light thump, slightly louder with his left foot. No one’s ever made a comment about it but it annoys him to no end. Fucking automail doesn’t even let him pretend to be close to normal. He’s never cared about being normal but it doesn’t let him be as sneaky as he would like and with his current position sometimes he seriously needs it.
The fabric of his uniform coat itches at his neck and he yanks on the collar. It doesn’t help much and he scowls up at the big giant building he’s now standing in the shadow of. Mustang’s ordered him to the office today for some stupid reason. He’s never here this early, usually sauntering in around lunch to give any reports the bastard might want out of him. The bastard knows this. The bastard should also know he doesn’t have anything new to report anyway. There hasn’t been enough time.
Everything about today seems off and he’s in a bad mood as a result. Ed’s not stupid. He knows when something’s up and with the way the bastard didn’t tell him anything wasn’t a help. Al had to shove him out the door, half awake, with toast crumbs still on his lips. It wasn’t the best way to start the morning having Al laugh at him and make him go somewhere he really didn’t want to go.
It’s late enough he’s missed the early morning traffic so there’s nothing echoing off the stone columns and buildings around him. Most people are already in their offices or doing whatever so the hallways are deathly quiet. His shoulders hunch and he tries to school the scowl off his face when he manages to run into the one or two people that roam the halls of Central Command.
He hates the bastard even more with every step he takes. He hates the feel of heat rising on his face and the uncertainty that accompanies this stupid visit. What’s so fucking important the bastard had to have him come in this early?
Lights glint off the brass doorknobs of each door he passes. No brass plates with names have appeared yet or maybe the bastard moved them around. Ed counts off the doors he passes just to have something to do. He’s never been an optimist. No point in that when he needed to fix Al. All that was allowed was realism and the ever evolving quest to find the next answer. Being an optimist would’ve only fucked things up.
He stares at the office door with Mustang’s name on it and takes a deep breath then scowls at himself. He yanks the door open with his normal force and stomps in. He expects bowed heads and a “yo” from Havoc but he gets neither. The office is deserted. It’s as quiet as it was out in the halls and a shiver goes down Ed’s spine. What the fuck? Mustang’s unit is always here when he visits. There’s never a time they haven’t been.
The bastard needs Hawkeye to keep him in line as it is. At least the cover story they have depends on it. Everything else is up in the air, adapted as necessary for the purposes of whatever they’re doing. But it’s the first time in a long time, he doesn’t see Hawkeye lurking somewhere around in the office.
He walks along the row of desks and raps his knuckles on the edge lightly. The soft sounds let him know he hasn’t been transported into some weird dream world. He wakes up too many times from nightmares where he’s still in the military and he still hasn’t fixed Al. Everything else is just like it is right now.
He shoves open Mustang’s inner office door with a slam. “You wanted to see me?”
Mustang turns from his spot at the door and Ed blinks when he sees he’s dressed casually. No uniform in sight. The collar of his shirt’s undone like he just stepped out of his house into his office. He smiles at Ed then arches an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to come in your uniform, Edward.”
He motions for Ed to close the door and he does warily. This isn’t what he was expecting at all. It’s much more intimate what with the curtains half drawn and no one else here. What the does the bastard have planned?
Ed walks to the front of the desk and crosses his arms. His heart’s beating faster for no reason and suddenly he can’t fucking swallow. What the hell? He watches Mustang frown at him as he moves from the window and comes around to him. He rests a hand on his shoulder and the thumpthump of his heart reaches his ears. There’s too much heat from Mustang’s hand to be normal. Did something get to him last night? Was there a plot?
“Edward.” Mustang’s voice is never that soft or gentle. “Did you forget what day it was?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s just a day like any other day.” That makes the bastard laugh at him then he’s tugging off his uniform jacket. Ed fights him at first, not sure what the hell’s going on, but when the idiot doesn’t stop he helps him get it off.
Mustang reaches up to trace his fingers along his jaw and Ed bites his lip at the cool glide of them against his skin. Randomly he realizes his lips are chapped and what the hell? He hasn’t been in the harsh conditions of the East or the North recently. They shouldn’t be like that.
“Edward, look at me.” Ed lifts his eyes to Mustang’s and there’s a warmth there that makes his insides flip flop like he ate something bad. Actually, maybe it's his breakfast about to make a reappearance.
“What?”
Mustang shakes his head and those cool fingers cup the back of his neck, massaging at the tension in his shoulders. Mustang leans in those extra couple inches and kisses him deeply then murmurs against his lips, “Happy anniversary, Edward.”