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scriveynerTitle: [Awakening] Part 1 - Clocks
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 2024
Summary: The long passage of time.
It had been two months, seventeen days, thirteen hours and eleven minutes. Roy Mustang knew this by heart. the ticking of the watch in his breast pocket was an ever-constant reminder of the passage of time. He could feel the slight vibration of the second hand even through his thick jacket, and he was not aware that he was tapping the point of his pen in accordance with it until Riza lifted her head and said, pointedly, “Sir.”
Roy guiltily put down the pen.
At first it was only a joke, the rumor flitting about the base. It made the rounds of the soldiers' barracks and the canteen both. Edward could not possibly be bothered to pay attention to THOSE, rumors were passed around about the diminutive alchemist and his curious little brother in the suit of armor all the time. It hardly affected him, until Lieutenant Havoc decided to take it upon himself to explain the nature of these particulars rumors in painstakingly graphic detail. Edward's head had shot up and pinned Roy with a glare, his wide golden eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight as he announced loud enough for the whole office to hear, and then some - “they think we're FUCKING!?”
It was not an uncommon rumor. It was a well-known fact that Colonel Roy Mustang had an eye on advancement, and as a direct result the rumor mill was constantly kept busy. If it was not the newest secretary in the typing pool, it was a high-ranking visitor from another garrison, called in to Central City on official business. Roy was used to this sort of racy rumor, to the point where he had all but forgotten about them. It was not the first time that gossip mongers had romantically linked him to one of his own subordinates. He doubted it would be the last.
The rumor of an inappropriate relationship between him and Edward was almost the least damaging, in that respect. Edward's legendary temper tantrums and rather blatant insubordination did not go unnoticed, and his own personality would serve to quell the most vicious of the rumors.
Edward's eyes reflected in the dim light of the supply closet like a cat's as his hand found Roy's shoulder and gripped it tight. “They think we're fucking,” he murmured playfully into Roy's ear, the last syllable lost in a pinched gasp as Roy's mouth found his.
#
Two months, twenty-three days, nine hours and forty-seven minutes. Roy stared mournfully at the clock in the conference room, superstitiously afraid that if he took his attention from it, the minutes would find a way to wind backwards and prolong his torture. It was easy to ignore the bickering of Colonels Barton and Blackwell and thing rather lascivious thoughts about thick, muscular thighs. General Brown cleared his throat and fixed Roy with a glare that managed to slide right off of him, and Roy smiled at the general, silky-smooth and unshaken.
Edward had moved into the gangly teenager stage later than most, on account of his growth spurt being delayed considerably until his brother once again wore flesh. He was still not quite sure what to do with himself – he had gotten tall fast, he was nearly as tall as Riza and if he did not stop shooting up like the proverbial weed then he might soon be taller than Roy. This was an indignity Roy was not sure he would be able to live down, but all signs thankfully pointed to Edward's progress halting well before then.
He carried himself with a peculiar, awkward grace – as if he was not always certain of himself and his movements. Roy still teased him, gently, about his height and his new-found clumsiness. Edward would glare at him sulkily over his books, his face flushed red and his mouth turned down in a sharp grimace. Roy enjoyed the expressions that Edward would make, he never bothered to hold anything back – he pouted still, lips pressed together – and Roy could easily see those lips wrapped around him, deep-throating like the girls in the brothels. The flush hit him fast and hard, and Roy had to excuse himself to the washroom to splash cold water on his face and stare at himself in the mirror.
Two months, twenty-three days, ten hours and twenty minutes.
#
It was not supposed to end up like this. Roy was supposed to have control – he was the adult, after all, the experienced one – and he had nestled Those Dangerous Thoughts away, under lock and key in the deepest recesses of his mind. It should have been safe – but it wasn't, not with Edward's automail hand on his thigh as he leaned in close, a concerned expression on his face.
Maybe he shouldn't have kissed Edward, but Edward kissed him first.
#
Three months, two days, two hours and six minutes.
The fire crackled in his hearth, built high and warm, orange flames dancing seductively around thick wooden logs. Roy stared through it and thinks of its reflection in warm golden eyes. The ice in his glass clinks as the cubes crack.
Three months, two days, two hours, and eight minutes.
#
It had been raining the day that Edward turned up on his doorstep. He had taken to wearing real adult clothes; trousers and vests and not those shamefully indecent leather pants. He still liked to wear his famous red coat and red-soled boots, though, as if challenging defiantly the idea that he had bothered to mature. The rain plastered his hair to his head, and his eyes were wide and far too bright for Roy to look at comfortably.
Edward had barged in, barely waiting for the invitation and nearly bowled Roy over. He pinned Roy back to the wall – Roy had to have five inches and forty pounds on him still and he did not stand a chance – and then Edward was kissing him sloppily, rainwater dripping into his eyes.
Roy really did not know how they made it to the bedroom, but they ended up on his bed. Edward was naked and glorious, sprawled out on his back with his golden hair fanned out around his head. Roy stared down at him, almost unaware of what he was doing, his heart beating nearly out of his chest as they moved together. It felt new and familiar all at once, and he doubled over Edward, gasping into the sheets as Edward clawed bright scars across his shoulder blades and howled his satisfaction to the ceiling.
Roy panted into warm, ticklish flesh and wondered at what point this had spiraled so far out of his control.
#
Three months, nineteen days, twenty hours and three minutes.
The bed was lonely by himself. Roy slept in the chair.
#
There was an explosion near one of the shantytowns set up on the outskirts of the city. There was half a building leveled by the resulting explosion – the old brick edifice had previously been condemned by the city but squatters had set up an entire community in the crumbling building. The military spent days sifting through the wreckage and recovering bodies. It was gruesome, harrowing and tiresome work. In the midst of it all, before the report came through on the cause of the explosion, several terrorist groups stepped forward to claim responsibility – one specifically claiming that their air specialty alchemist had orchestrated the entire event.
It was heavy work, and deeply distracting. From being out in the field, dealing with the actual debris and body removal to running the radio rooms and trying to track down all the claims of terrorism that ran the gamut from Ishbalan extremists to rogue alchemists, Roy almost completely forgot that the clock still ticked onward.
The reports finally came in at the three week mark that the cause of the entire thing had been a gas main explosion and that terrorists had absolutely nothing to do with the tragedy. It was late when the official word came in, well past dark and Roy sat forward, elbows on his desk and he rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion of the past month weighing heavily on him.
Four months, one day, nineteen hours and two minutes.
#
The clock chimed twenty-three hundred hours. Roy was still at work, paperwork spread out all around his desk, one hand in his hair and the other supporting a folder as he read the pages tirelessly. He had pushed through the fatigue and the exhaustion and had come out on the other side, in this strange, almost tranquil twilight state.
There was nothing for him at home, so he stayed at the office and worked. No one had mentioned to him how haggard he had gotten, his dark hair lank and dark circles showing under his eyes. Maybe it was simply because everyone looked haggard right now, the long hours worked in the bloody aftermath of the gas main explosion only starting to wear off as people were returning to normal schedules and normal expressions.
Riza knew, however. She always knew, she watched him with a firm and knowing eye, her mouth pressed in a thin line of disapproval. He knew it was particularly bad when she had stopped in his office earlier today (or was it yesterday? The days had merged into a blur) and actually told him to go home and sleep. Roy had nodded his head absently at her, and opened another folder.
When the door to his office clicked open, Roy did not bother to look up. He flipped another page in the folder, eyes scanning the lines but not really absorbing the words that he was reading. He only looked up when he heard the door shut, and raised his eyes to meet Edward's from across the office.
(Four months, seven days, seven hours, and six minutes.)
Edward blinked at him, a little perplexed. “I took an earlier train,” he said by way of explanation. “I finished up in Yoswell last – the new commander there is doing really well, they're working with the villagers instead of bossing people around, wonder who they learned THAT from-”
He was wearing a military uniform. Roy had seen him in it before, but he had not bothered to wear it with any regularity. Roy let the words wash over him as he openly stared at Edward, exhaustion bringing his guard down. Edward had taken the stiff blue outer jacket off, it was folded under his arm with his suitcase, but he was actually, for once, wearing the military uniform. The rest of his clothes must have been dirty, it was the only explanation that Roy's tired mind could fathom. Edward was still talking, apparently not noticing that Roy had been stunned into silence.
(Four months, seven days, seven hours and eight minutes.)
“-had to help birth a goddamned COW, Winry is going to have a fit if I got any afterbirth in my automail or anything.” Edward dropped his suitcase to the floor and really looked at Roy. “You all right, Mustang? You look like you've lost weight.”
(Four months, seven days, seven hours and nine minutes.)
Roy was up and out of his chair before Edward could even react, crossing the room and grabbing Edward's arm. Edward was startled but did not pull away, letting Roy yank him forward, tipping him backward and kissing him. Edward wrapped his arms around Roy, one hand on the back of Roy's head as he eagerly returned the affection.
Roy lifted his head, staring down at Edward in his arms and it was as if all those months had been stripped away. Edward beamed up at him, somewhere between amused and aroused and clearly undecided. Edward's fingers tightened on the back of Roy's head, his eyes sliding to half-mast and he slowly licked his lips.
“I missed you too,” Edward said huskily.
(Four months, seven days, seven hours and ten minutes.)
Part 2 |>
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 2024
Summary: The long passage of time.
It had been two months, seventeen days, thirteen hours and eleven minutes. Roy Mustang knew this by heart. the ticking of the watch in his breast pocket was an ever-constant reminder of the passage of time. He could feel the slight vibration of the second hand even through his thick jacket, and he was not aware that he was tapping the point of his pen in accordance with it until Riza lifted her head and said, pointedly, “Sir.”
Roy guiltily put down the pen.
At first it was only a joke, the rumor flitting about the base. It made the rounds of the soldiers' barracks and the canteen both. Edward could not possibly be bothered to pay attention to THOSE, rumors were passed around about the diminutive alchemist and his curious little brother in the suit of armor all the time. It hardly affected him, until Lieutenant Havoc decided to take it upon himself to explain the nature of these particulars rumors in painstakingly graphic detail. Edward's head had shot up and pinned Roy with a glare, his wide golden eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight as he announced loud enough for the whole office to hear, and then some - “they think we're FUCKING!?”
It was not an uncommon rumor. It was a well-known fact that Colonel Roy Mustang had an eye on advancement, and as a direct result the rumor mill was constantly kept busy. If it was not the newest secretary in the typing pool, it was a high-ranking visitor from another garrison, called in to Central City on official business. Roy was used to this sort of racy rumor, to the point where he had all but forgotten about them. It was not the first time that gossip mongers had romantically linked him to one of his own subordinates. He doubted it would be the last.
The rumor of an inappropriate relationship between him and Edward was almost the least damaging, in that respect. Edward's legendary temper tantrums and rather blatant insubordination did not go unnoticed, and his own personality would serve to quell the most vicious of the rumors.
Edward's eyes reflected in the dim light of the supply closet like a cat's as his hand found Roy's shoulder and gripped it tight. “They think we're fucking,” he murmured playfully into Roy's ear, the last syllable lost in a pinched gasp as Roy's mouth found his.
Two months, twenty-three days, nine hours and forty-seven minutes. Roy stared mournfully at the clock in the conference room, superstitiously afraid that if he took his attention from it, the minutes would find a way to wind backwards and prolong his torture. It was easy to ignore the bickering of Colonels Barton and Blackwell and thing rather lascivious thoughts about thick, muscular thighs. General Brown cleared his throat and fixed Roy with a glare that managed to slide right off of him, and Roy smiled at the general, silky-smooth and unshaken.
Edward had moved into the gangly teenager stage later than most, on account of his growth spurt being delayed considerably until his brother once again wore flesh. He was still not quite sure what to do with himself – he had gotten tall fast, he was nearly as tall as Riza and if he did not stop shooting up like the proverbial weed then he might soon be taller than Roy. This was an indignity Roy was not sure he would be able to live down, but all signs thankfully pointed to Edward's progress halting well before then.
He carried himself with a peculiar, awkward grace – as if he was not always certain of himself and his movements. Roy still teased him, gently, about his height and his new-found clumsiness. Edward would glare at him sulkily over his books, his face flushed red and his mouth turned down in a sharp grimace. Roy enjoyed the expressions that Edward would make, he never bothered to hold anything back – he pouted still, lips pressed together – and Roy could easily see those lips wrapped around him, deep-throating like the girls in the brothels. The flush hit him fast and hard, and Roy had to excuse himself to the washroom to splash cold water on his face and stare at himself in the mirror.
Two months, twenty-three days, ten hours and twenty minutes.
It was not supposed to end up like this. Roy was supposed to have control – he was the adult, after all, the experienced one – and he had nestled Those Dangerous Thoughts away, under lock and key in the deepest recesses of his mind. It should have been safe – but it wasn't, not with Edward's automail hand on his thigh as he leaned in close, a concerned expression on his face.
Maybe he shouldn't have kissed Edward, but Edward kissed him first.
Three months, two days, two hours and six minutes.
The fire crackled in his hearth, built high and warm, orange flames dancing seductively around thick wooden logs. Roy stared through it and thinks of its reflection in warm golden eyes. The ice in his glass clinks as the cubes crack.
Three months, two days, two hours, and eight minutes.
It had been raining the day that Edward turned up on his doorstep. He had taken to wearing real adult clothes; trousers and vests and not those shamefully indecent leather pants. He still liked to wear his famous red coat and red-soled boots, though, as if challenging defiantly the idea that he had bothered to mature. The rain plastered his hair to his head, and his eyes were wide and far too bright for Roy to look at comfortably.
Edward had barged in, barely waiting for the invitation and nearly bowled Roy over. He pinned Roy back to the wall – Roy had to have five inches and forty pounds on him still and he did not stand a chance – and then Edward was kissing him sloppily, rainwater dripping into his eyes.
Roy really did not know how they made it to the bedroom, but they ended up on his bed. Edward was naked and glorious, sprawled out on his back with his golden hair fanned out around his head. Roy stared down at him, almost unaware of what he was doing, his heart beating nearly out of his chest as they moved together. It felt new and familiar all at once, and he doubled over Edward, gasping into the sheets as Edward clawed bright scars across his shoulder blades and howled his satisfaction to the ceiling.
Roy panted into warm, ticklish flesh and wondered at what point this had spiraled so far out of his control.
Three months, nineteen days, twenty hours and three minutes.
The bed was lonely by himself. Roy slept in the chair.
There was an explosion near one of the shantytowns set up on the outskirts of the city. There was half a building leveled by the resulting explosion – the old brick edifice had previously been condemned by the city but squatters had set up an entire community in the crumbling building. The military spent days sifting through the wreckage and recovering bodies. It was gruesome, harrowing and tiresome work. In the midst of it all, before the report came through on the cause of the explosion, several terrorist groups stepped forward to claim responsibility – one specifically claiming that their air specialty alchemist had orchestrated the entire event.
It was heavy work, and deeply distracting. From being out in the field, dealing with the actual debris and body removal to running the radio rooms and trying to track down all the claims of terrorism that ran the gamut from Ishbalan extremists to rogue alchemists, Roy almost completely forgot that the clock still ticked onward.
The reports finally came in at the three week mark that the cause of the entire thing had been a gas main explosion and that terrorists had absolutely nothing to do with the tragedy. It was late when the official word came in, well past dark and Roy sat forward, elbows on his desk and he rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion of the past month weighing heavily on him.
Four months, one day, nineteen hours and two minutes.
The clock chimed twenty-three hundred hours. Roy was still at work, paperwork spread out all around his desk, one hand in his hair and the other supporting a folder as he read the pages tirelessly. He had pushed through the fatigue and the exhaustion and had come out on the other side, in this strange, almost tranquil twilight state.
There was nothing for him at home, so he stayed at the office and worked. No one had mentioned to him how haggard he had gotten, his dark hair lank and dark circles showing under his eyes. Maybe it was simply because everyone looked haggard right now, the long hours worked in the bloody aftermath of the gas main explosion only starting to wear off as people were returning to normal schedules and normal expressions.
Riza knew, however. She always knew, she watched him with a firm and knowing eye, her mouth pressed in a thin line of disapproval. He knew it was particularly bad when she had stopped in his office earlier today (or was it yesterday? The days had merged into a blur) and actually told him to go home and sleep. Roy had nodded his head absently at her, and opened another folder.
When the door to his office clicked open, Roy did not bother to look up. He flipped another page in the folder, eyes scanning the lines but not really absorbing the words that he was reading. He only looked up when he heard the door shut, and raised his eyes to meet Edward's from across the office.
(Four months, seven days, seven hours, and six minutes.)
Edward blinked at him, a little perplexed. “I took an earlier train,” he said by way of explanation. “I finished up in Yoswell last – the new commander there is doing really well, they're working with the villagers instead of bossing people around, wonder who they learned THAT from-”
He was wearing a military uniform. Roy had seen him in it before, but he had not bothered to wear it with any regularity. Roy let the words wash over him as he openly stared at Edward, exhaustion bringing his guard down. Edward had taken the stiff blue outer jacket off, it was folded under his arm with his suitcase, but he was actually, for once, wearing the military uniform. The rest of his clothes must have been dirty, it was the only explanation that Roy's tired mind could fathom. Edward was still talking, apparently not noticing that Roy had been stunned into silence.
(Four months, seven days, seven hours and eight minutes.)
“-had to help birth a goddamned COW, Winry is going to have a fit if I got any afterbirth in my automail or anything.” Edward dropped his suitcase to the floor and really looked at Roy. “You all right, Mustang? You look like you've lost weight.”
(Four months, seven days, seven hours and nine minutes.)
Roy was up and out of his chair before Edward could even react, crossing the room and grabbing Edward's arm. Edward was startled but did not pull away, letting Roy yank him forward, tipping him backward and kissing him. Edward wrapped his arms around Roy, one hand on the back of Roy's head as he eagerly returned the affection.
Roy lifted his head, staring down at Edward in his arms and it was as if all those months had been stripped away. Edward beamed up at him, somewhere between amused and aroused and clearly undecided. Edward's fingers tightened on the back of Roy's head, his eyes sliding to half-mast and he slowly licked his lips.
“I missed you too,” Edward said huskily.
(Four months, seven days, seven hours and ten minutes.)
