Prompt 45 :: Elements on the Periodic Table :: "Fluorine, Uranium, Nitrogen"
Title: Fluorine, Uranium, Nitrogen
Author: colonel_bastard
Series: Take your pick
Word Count: 854
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Roy Mustang, Maes Hughes.
Summary: Hughes makes a mockery of SCIENCE.
Warnings: Naughty words. Tee hee!
Notes: It's a good old-fashioned Academy fic! Also, I've created a new element! Actually, I've just turned "einsteinium" into "esterium," since there's no Einstein in Amestris. Carry on!
“You have terrible handwriting,” Maes grumbles.
He’s leafing through a pile of cards, squinting at the inscriptions, each one dashed off in a chicken-scratch print that would be completely impossible to read if he wasn’t already so familiar with it. The creator of the cards, Roy Mustang, huffs impatiently.
“Can you read them or not?”
“Sure, sure.”
“Then quit complaining.”
“I’m doing you a favor, I can complain as much as I want.”
Hughes is sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk and Roy is seated at the single desk in their cramped dorm room. There’s a strained sort of silence up and down the halls, the kind of silence that descends in any academy before an exam of utmost importance. The exam is for the aspiring alchemists, but their agony is infectious and their roommates find their usual joviality strangled into grudging sympathy. At least, most of the roommates are sympathetic.
“Phallium?” Maes giggles. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“It’s thallium.” Roy growls.
“Aww.”
Obviously, Hughes knew exactly what it said. Obviously, he’s not taking this exercise seriously at all.
“Please,” Mustang draws deep, tense circles on his notebook to calm his temper. “Just focus. I need your help.”
There’s a moment in which Maes is certainly contemplating some new and obnoxious form of mischief, but eventually he shrugs his lanky shoulders and sighs agreeably. A quiet fluttering sound tickles Mustang’s ear as Hughes shuffles through the flashcards.
“Chromium, nickel, zinc.”
Roy rolls his eyes to the ceiling in concentration, then jots quickly onto the page- Cr, Ni, Zn.
“Done.”
“Strontium, indium, silicon.”
Sr, In, Si.
“Arsenic, selenium, sulphur.”
As, Se, S.
Mustang pauses and rereads what he’s just written. It’s almost too perfect to be an accident. He considers raising an objection, but decides to give Hughes the benefit of the doubt.
“All right,” he says cautiously.
Without hesitating, Maes says, “Phosphorus, oxygen, radon.”
From memory, Roy scribbles- P, O, Rn.
“For god’s sake, Maes,” he groans. “Be serious for five minutes.”
“Here’s a good one! Praseodymium, iodine, carbon, potassium.”
Out of principle, Mustang refuses to write it down, but his scholarly pride fills in the blanks against his will: Pr, I, C, K. He swivels in his desk chair so that he’s sitting sidesaddle, one arm slung over the back, to pin his roommate with a contemptuous glare.
Hughes has the flashcards spread out on the bed around him and his bright eyes dart from each to each, seeing, as always, what he chooses to see. Maes has the instincts of a natural puzzle-solver, and he was the top of the class in that code-breaking seminar a few weeks ago. Like a juggler, his mind has thrown the periodic table overhead, and he is able to see all the elements at once and snatch from the air the ones he desires.
“I think it’s great that potassium is a K.” He somehow manages to speak around his smirk. “You’d be surprised how important K is.”
“Have you no respect for anything?” The alchemist is outraged. “This is science!”
Maes glances up from his game just long enough to wiggle his fingers mystically and go “oooooo!” It only makes Mustang angrier.
“Try this,” Hughes snickers. “Boron, oxygen, oxygen, bismuth, esterium.”
B, O, O, Bi, Es.
“I said knock it off!” Roy barks. “Besides, that’s cheating, you used oxygen twice.”
Quick as a cobra, Maes takes the flashcard labeled oxygen between his nimble fingers and flicks it at Mustang like one of his throwing knives. Fueled by his deep-seated fear of getting a papercut on his eye (don’t ask), Roy yelps and dives out of his chair, ending up on the floor in an undignified heap. Hughes shudders with laughter.
“Maes,” Roy uses the quiet serious voice that always makes Hughes shiver, the voice of someone who is about to burn someone else into a little pile of ashes with a pair of glasses sitting on top. “I am warning you.”
It seems to work. Hughes clicks his teeth together and pulls his head back like a turtle retreating into the shell. They stare at each other. After a beat, Maes sucks in a breath to say something, but Roy cranks up the intensity of his glare from passive stink-eye to aggressive evil-eye. Hughes reconsiders and holds his tongue. Mustang smirks proudly.
“Now,” he says, climbing back into his chair with as much dignity as possible. “Would you be so kind as to finish the exercise.”
He has his back turned but he can sense the salute, hearing the snap of Hughes’s regulation-crisp sleeve as he performs the gesture with a severity born of sulkiness. That’s fine, let him sulk. Roy needs to concentrate on the upcoming exam. He’ll come back from the test with beer bottles stuffed under his jacket and then there will be no more sulking. There will be much rejoicing. In the here and now, he absolutely must study.
“I’m ready,” he announces.
In a grumpy mumble, Hughes offers, “Rhenium, platinum, iron.”
Re, Pt, Fe.
“Next.”
“Tellurium, chlorine, helium.”
Te, Cl, He.
“Next.”
“Fluorine, uranium, carbon, potassium.”
F, U, C-
“Maes!”
______end.
Author: colonel_bastard
Series: Take your pick
Word Count: 854
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Roy Mustang, Maes Hughes.
Summary: Hughes makes a mockery of SCIENCE.
Warnings: Naughty words. Tee hee!
Notes: It's a good old-fashioned Academy fic! Also, I've created a new element! Actually, I've just turned "einsteinium" into "esterium," since there's no Einstein in Amestris. Carry on!
“You have terrible handwriting,” Maes grumbles.
He’s leafing through a pile of cards, squinting at the inscriptions, each one dashed off in a chicken-scratch print that would be completely impossible to read if he wasn’t already so familiar with it. The creator of the cards, Roy Mustang, huffs impatiently.
“Can you read them or not?”
“Sure, sure.”
“Then quit complaining.”
“I’m doing you a favor, I can complain as much as I want.”
Hughes is sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk and Roy is seated at the single desk in their cramped dorm room. There’s a strained sort of silence up and down the halls, the kind of silence that descends in any academy before an exam of utmost importance. The exam is for the aspiring alchemists, but their agony is infectious and their roommates find their usual joviality strangled into grudging sympathy. At least, most of the roommates are sympathetic.
“Phallium?” Maes giggles. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“It’s thallium.” Roy growls.
“Aww.”
Obviously, Hughes knew exactly what it said. Obviously, he’s not taking this exercise seriously at all.
“Please,” Mustang draws deep, tense circles on his notebook to calm his temper. “Just focus. I need your help.”
There’s a moment in which Maes is certainly contemplating some new and obnoxious form of mischief, but eventually he shrugs his lanky shoulders and sighs agreeably. A quiet fluttering sound tickles Mustang’s ear as Hughes shuffles through the flashcards.
“Chromium, nickel, zinc.”
Roy rolls his eyes to the ceiling in concentration, then jots quickly onto the page- Cr, Ni, Zn.
“Done.”
“Strontium, indium, silicon.”
Sr, In, Si.
“Arsenic, selenium, sulphur.”
As, Se, S.
Mustang pauses and rereads what he’s just written. It’s almost too perfect to be an accident. He considers raising an objection, but decides to give Hughes the benefit of the doubt.
“All right,” he says cautiously.
Without hesitating, Maes says, “Phosphorus, oxygen, radon.”
From memory, Roy scribbles- P, O, Rn.
“For god’s sake, Maes,” he groans. “Be serious for five minutes.”
“Here’s a good one! Praseodymium, iodine, carbon, potassium.”
Out of principle, Mustang refuses to write it down, but his scholarly pride fills in the blanks against his will: Pr, I, C, K. He swivels in his desk chair so that he’s sitting sidesaddle, one arm slung over the back, to pin his roommate with a contemptuous glare.
Hughes has the flashcards spread out on the bed around him and his bright eyes dart from each to each, seeing, as always, what he chooses to see. Maes has the instincts of a natural puzzle-solver, and he was the top of the class in that code-breaking seminar a few weeks ago. Like a juggler, his mind has thrown the periodic table overhead, and he is able to see all the elements at once and snatch from the air the ones he desires.
“I think it’s great that potassium is a K.” He somehow manages to speak around his smirk. “You’d be surprised how important K is.”
“Have you no respect for anything?” The alchemist is outraged. “This is science!”
Maes glances up from his game just long enough to wiggle his fingers mystically and go “oooooo!” It only makes Mustang angrier.
“Try this,” Hughes snickers. “Boron, oxygen, oxygen, bismuth, esterium.”
B, O, O, Bi, Es.
“I said knock it off!” Roy barks. “Besides, that’s cheating, you used oxygen twice.”
Quick as a cobra, Maes takes the flashcard labeled oxygen between his nimble fingers and flicks it at Mustang like one of his throwing knives. Fueled by his deep-seated fear of getting a papercut on his eye (don’t ask), Roy yelps and dives out of his chair, ending up on the floor in an undignified heap. Hughes shudders with laughter.
“Maes,” Roy uses the quiet serious voice that always makes Hughes shiver, the voice of someone who is about to burn someone else into a little pile of ashes with a pair of glasses sitting on top. “I am warning you.”
It seems to work. Hughes clicks his teeth together and pulls his head back like a turtle retreating into the shell. They stare at each other. After a beat, Maes sucks in a breath to say something, but Roy cranks up the intensity of his glare from passive stink-eye to aggressive evil-eye. Hughes reconsiders and holds his tongue. Mustang smirks proudly.
“Now,” he says, climbing back into his chair with as much dignity as possible. “Would you be so kind as to finish the exercise.”
He has his back turned but he can sense the salute, hearing the snap of Hughes’s regulation-crisp sleeve as he performs the gesture with a severity born of sulkiness. That’s fine, let him sulk. Roy needs to concentrate on the upcoming exam. He’ll come back from the test with beer bottles stuffed under his jacket and then there will be no more sulking. There will be much rejoicing. In the here and now, he absolutely must study.
“I’m ready,” he announces.
In a grumpy mumble, Hughes offers, “Rhenium, platinum, iron.”
Re, Pt, Fe.
“Next.”
“Tellurium, chlorine, helium.”
Te, Cl, He.
“Next.”
“Fluorine, uranium, carbon, potassium.”
F, U, C-
“Maes!”
______end.