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scriveynerTitle: Tarnished
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist, Supernatural
AU: Mashup
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed, Al, Rian
Rating: M
Length: 1350
Summary: Ed kept his elbow in the passenger side window, his arm propped so that his hand rested against the side of his head, his fingers tapping slowly against his temple. Al drove silently, his eyes on the road ahead, the radio spitting out some random classic rock station because neither of them could settle on a station and this was the one that held the least amount of eye-rolling for all involved.
Ed kept his elbow in the passenger side window, his arm propped so that his hand rested against the side of his head, his fingers tapping slowly against his temple. Al drove silently, his eyes on the road ahead, the radio spitting out some random classic rock station because neither of them could settle on a station and this was the one that held the least amount of eye-rolling for all involved.
He was tired, otherwise he never would have let Al drive. He was tired a lot these days, a lot more than he used to be. It was unsettling, this exhaustion that pulled at his bones and settled against the back of his eyes, heavy and intoxicating. He hadn’t told Al - (what was there to tell, he could hear Al now, ‘let’s stop at an emergency room somewhere, this isn’t right, it isn’t natural-’) - but what was an emergency room doctor going to do? Exhaustion was exhaustion, even if he had the sneaking suspicion that there was more to it, than that.
Maybe he should call Roy - but that would be admitting to it, that he was worried. Roy had taken over research duties, his spare bedroom converted into a library, with as many salvaged books of lore and ancient tomes as the Impala could carry. Others too had moved in and out of their circle of influence. Roy was pretty much the only constant these days; he would try to call Winry, but she didn’t return his calls with the frequency that she used to. The Elric curse was at it again.
(At least Roy appeared to be immune.)
(So far.)
Ed closed his eyes, the comforting rumble of blacktop underneath them, the faint smell of exhaust and fuel, and the sun beating through the windows - this was home, he was safe and comfortable here, and he could succumb to sleep.
But he didn’t sleep. It was more a fugue, a comfortable numbness that eclipsed his exhaustion as he replayed the events of the past few days. The kid had called them again; his translations took time, a lot of time, but they were more troubling than ever. Apparently there were five principle Gates; and the tablet - what was left of the tablet - only gave the names of three. The other half, Crowley’s half, held the names of the others.
“Five Gates?” Al’s voice had gone to incredulous. “Not just one, five?”
“Gate of Hell, we knew that already,” Rian’s voice was tinny through the phone line. “Gate of Limbo-”
“You mean Purgatory,” Ed’s voice had gone rough, and there was a pause and some static through the cell phone line. Where was the kid hiding at now, some underground bunker?
“I don’t think that’s right,” Rian said. “Purgatory, Limbo - those are two different things, Ed.”
“What’s the third gate,” Al asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the most useful tidbits.
“That’s the thing,” Rian said. “I’m not sure. The word is cut off, all I get are the first three symbols. It doesn’t directly translate, but I think…” he trailed off, and Ed and Al exchanged looks.
“You think…?” Ed prompted.
“I think it says "Truth”,“ the prophet said. "But I … that doesn’t make any sense, Truth isn’t a place, not like Hell or Limbo. I’m probably wrong.”
“We’ll only know for sure when we get the other half of the tablet,” Ed said. “Damn it, we’ll get it out of the hands of that squirrelly bastard.”
Rian had disconnected then; he didn’t have very much else to give them and he clearly wasn’t all that keen on catching up with then both. Ed turned his face in toward his palm and yawned, not bothering to stifle it.
Al said, without looking at him, “if you’re tired, you should just sleep, brother.”
“S'not that simple,” Ed muttered, resting his face against his hand again. “Besides, I slept a good four, five hours last night. I don’t need another nap.”
Ed did not miss that Al rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t bring it up. “So where are we headed?” Ed asked, his eyes safely closed against the bright winter sun. “Going to a secret Valentine’s rendezvous with your estranged sweetheart?”
“Are you sure you’re comfortable using that many multi-syllable words in a single sentence?”
“Dude,” Ed complained. “Totally uncalled for.”
“Then don’t bring it up,” Al said, a heavy edge to his voice.
Ed opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Fair enough,” he said finally.
Their lifestyle was not conducive to long-lasting relationships. They both knew that, and yet they tried anyway. Alphonse’s sweetheart had gone back home to China, called home by her family. Perhaps the engagement had been called off … maybe it hadn’t been, but losing such a talented exorcist from their extended stables had been a bad loss.
And then of course there was the fact that Ed had managed to somehow blow his relationship with Winry, who was possibly the single most tolerant female hunter on the face of the planet. Ed had even managed to fuck that up, although he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was actually to blame. All the same, Ed Elric was currently persona non grata as far as Winry Rockbell was concerned. Hell, it was a miracle Roy still talked to him.
Seemed like it was bound to be a cold and lonely valentine’s day for them both this year. Ed yawned again, and this time caught Al watching him. “What?” he muttered muzzily, and Al reached over, pressing his hand against Ed’s forehead. Ed batted his hand away angrily, but lacked the strength to do so effectively, and Al placed his hand on Ed’s forehead, somehow not even letting the car waver a bit.
“You are burning up,” Al said decisively.
“I’m not sick,” Ed said, finally removing Al’s hand from him. Al made a noise and moved the car over a few lanes, heading for an exit with a clearly marked motel. “I’m just a little tired.”
“If you’re not sick, I’m the Queen of England,” Al said sharply. “Dammit Ed, why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Not sick,” Ed protested weakly.
Al shook his head, both hands on the wheel as he took them down the exit ramp. “Good thing we weren’t headed on toward a secret romantic rendezvous anyway,” he said. “Because you’d be fucking up our schedule.”
“Haha, fuck you,” Ed said.
“Ed?” Al asked.
“What?”
“Go the fuck to sleep.”
Ed resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Al and closed his eyes, resting his head against his hand again. He wasn’t sick, dammit. He didn’t know what was wrong - at least, he didn’t know YET what was wrong - but it wasn’t something so simply explained away. Best to let his brother baby him for now, though - he might even get a free burger and some sympathy out of it.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist, Supernatural
AU: Mashup
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed, Al, Rian
Rating: M
Length: 1350
Summary: Ed kept his elbow in the passenger side window, his arm propped so that his hand rested against the side of his head, his fingers tapping slowly against his temple. Al drove silently, his eyes on the road ahead, the radio spitting out some random classic rock station because neither of them could settle on a station and this was the one that held the least amount of eye-rolling for all involved.
Ed kept his elbow in the passenger side window, his arm propped so that his hand rested against the side of his head, his fingers tapping slowly against his temple. Al drove silently, his eyes on the road ahead, the radio spitting out some random classic rock station because neither of them could settle on a station and this was the one that held the least amount of eye-rolling for all involved.
He was tired, otherwise he never would have let Al drive. He was tired a lot these days, a lot more than he used to be. It was unsettling, this exhaustion that pulled at his bones and settled against the back of his eyes, heavy and intoxicating. He hadn’t told Al - (what was there to tell, he could hear Al now, ‘let’s stop at an emergency room somewhere, this isn’t right, it isn’t natural-’) - but what was an emergency room doctor going to do? Exhaustion was exhaustion, even if he had the sneaking suspicion that there was more to it, than that.
Maybe he should call Roy - but that would be admitting to it, that he was worried. Roy had taken over research duties, his spare bedroom converted into a library, with as many salvaged books of lore and ancient tomes as the Impala could carry. Others too had moved in and out of their circle of influence. Roy was pretty much the only constant these days; he would try to call Winry, but she didn’t return his calls with the frequency that she used to. The Elric curse was at it again.
(At least Roy appeared to be immune.)
(So far.)
Ed closed his eyes, the comforting rumble of blacktop underneath them, the faint smell of exhaust and fuel, and the sun beating through the windows - this was home, he was safe and comfortable here, and he could succumb to sleep.
But he didn’t sleep. It was more a fugue, a comfortable numbness that eclipsed his exhaustion as he replayed the events of the past few days. The kid had called them again; his translations took time, a lot of time, but they were more troubling than ever. Apparently there were five principle Gates; and the tablet - what was left of the tablet - only gave the names of three. The other half, Crowley’s half, held the names of the others.
“Five Gates?” Al’s voice had gone to incredulous. “Not just one, five?”
“Gate of Hell, we knew that already,” Rian’s voice was tinny through the phone line. “Gate of Limbo-”
“You mean Purgatory,” Ed’s voice had gone rough, and there was a pause and some static through the cell phone line. Where was the kid hiding at now, some underground bunker?
“I don’t think that’s right,” Rian said. “Purgatory, Limbo - those are two different things, Ed.”
“What’s the third gate,” Al asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the most useful tidbits.
“That’s the thing,” Rian said. “I’m not sure. The word is cut off, all I get are the first three symbols. It doesn’t directly translate, but I think…” he trailed off, and Ed and Al exchanged looks.
“You think…?” Ed prompted.
“I think it says "Truth”,“ the prophet said. "But I … that doesn’t make any sense, Truth isn’t a place, not like Hell or Limbo. I’m probably wrong.”
“We’ll only know for sure when we get the other half of the tablet,” Ed said. “Damn it, we’ll get it out of the hands of that squirrelly bastard.”
Rian had disconnected then; he didn’t have very much else to give them and he clearly wasn’t all that keen on catching up with then both. Ed turned his face in toward his palm and yawned, not bothering to stifle it.
Al said, without looking at him, “if you’re tired, you should just sleep, brother.”
“S'not that simple,” Ed muttered, resting his face against his hand again. “Besides, I slept a good four, five hours last night. I don’t need another nap.”
Ed did not miss that Al rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t bring it up. “So where are we headed?” Ed asked, his eyes safely closed against the bright winter sun. “Going to a secret Valentine’s rendezvous with your estranged sweetheart?”
“Are you sure you’re comfortable using that many multi-syllable words in a single sentence?”
“Dude,” Ed complained. “Totally uncalled for.”
“Then don’t bring it up,” Al said, a heavy edge to his voice.
Ed opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Fair enough,” he said finally.
Their lifestyle was not conducive to long-lasting relationships. They both knew that, and yet they tried anyway. Alphonse’s sweetheart had gone back home to China, called home by her family. Perhaps the engagement had been called off … maybe it hadn’t been, but losing such a talented exorcist from their extended stables had been a bad loss.
And then of course there was the fact that Ed had managed to somehow blow his relationship with Winry, who was possibly the single most tolerant female hunter on the face of the planet. Ed had even managed to fuck that up, although he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was actually to blame. All the same, Ed Elric was currently persona non grata as far as Winry Rockbell was concerned. Hell, it was a miracle Roy still talked to him.
Seemed like it was bound to be a cold and lonely valentine’s day for them both this year. Ed yawned again, and this time caught Al watching him. “What?” he muttered muzzily, and Al reached over, pressing his hand against Ed’s forehead. Ed batted his hand away angrily, but lacked the strength to do so effectively, and Al placed his hand on Ed’s forehead, somehow not even letting the car waver a bit.
“You are burning up,” Al said decisively.
“I’m not sick,” Ed said, finally removing Al’s hand from him. Al made a noise and moved the car over a few lanes, heading for an exit with a clearly marked motel. “I’m just a little tired.”
“If you’re not sick, I’m the Queen of England,” Al said sharply. “Dammit Ed, why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Not sick,” Ed protested weakly.
Al shook his head, both hands on the wheel as he took them down the exit ramp. “Good thing we weren’t headed on toward a secret romantic rendezvous anyway,” he said. “Because you’d be fucking up our schedule.”
“Haha, fuck you,” Ed said.
“Ed?” Al asked.
“What?”
“Go the fuck to sleep.”
Ed resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Al and closed his eyes, resting his head against his hand again. He wasn’t sick, dammit. He didn’t know what was wrong - at least, he didn’t know YET what was wrong - but it wasn’t something so simply explained away. Best to let his brother baby him for now, though - he might even get a free burger and some sympathy out of it.
