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You Belong to Me	By : squallstorm Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 9883 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Disclaimer:
I don't own Sabrina or Fullmetal Alchemist.

(1)
– a link to see Al's car is on my profile at ff . net

(2)
– VP's – Vice Presidents

I
know, I'm horrible. Making you all wait so long for this, but I'm
mostly done with “A Little Light of Love” (expect for
polishing up the remaining chapters) so, I can now re-direct all my
attention back to this light-hearted story. Thank you, one and all
for being patient with me, and please enjoy the chapter XD

Chapter
9

“Al,
I'm not so sure about this,” confessed Winry, looking
worriedly over at him as he drove his black Audi (1) down the back
streets of Manhattan without a care for the shabby, desolate
condition of the neighborhood. Graffiti marked almost all available
surfaces up to as high as the kids who had done the defacing could
reach. Dirty, grubby looking people crowded into the darkened
corners and doorways, watching the car pass with sharp hungry eyes.

How
on earth had she been roped into coming with Al out this
way? She didn't like to see how...how...low these people had come,
and it made her feel for the first time just how
much wealth she had. Of course she did lots of charity work, going
to all the big parties and all the 'chic' causes that everyone else
was raising money for. But she'd never seen this, nor how bad it
could be.

“I
know you'll love it. Just give it a chance. Please?” Al
looked over briefly at the woman sitting in the passenger seat,
pleading with his eyes.

“Stop
it,” huffed Winry, trying not to smile. Some of her unease
seemed to be melting away with Al's teasing, and she turned her gaze
away from the disturbing sights outside her window.

“Stop
what?” asked Al, curiously while keeping his eyes on the road,
a small lop-sided grin tugging at his mouth.

“I
don't like it when you do that 'eye thing',” she said, making
air quotes as she described Al's expression, and then she pointed at
his eyes with a frown. Why did he always have to do that adorable
eye thing? Women, she was sure, hadn't been able to resist him for
long when he did that 'eye thing'. Not that she begrudged him his
past exploits since hers were as vast and varied as his were. It was
just that it made her heart melt with fondness for him each time she
saw it.

“What
'eye thing'?” Al wondered, glancing at her quickly and then
back out the window. The grin became a little bit wider, and Winry
could tell he was trying to fight it.

“That
thing where you look like a beaten puppy.”

Al looked over at the
woman sitting next to him and threw his head back and laughed. He
released the shifter and fondled Winry's knee, the mirth barely
contained. “Well, if it makes you do what I want, I'll have to
do the 'beaten puppy' look more often.”

“You're
terrible,” joked Winry, smiling up into his brown eyes.

“Look,
here we are.” Al pulled into a narrow alley driveway that
looked much too small for his car to pass through.

Winry looked out the
windshield window at the large old brick and sandstone building, that
in its heyday would have been a prime example of art nouveau, with
slight trepidation. How on earth had Al talked her into this? It
seemed like a good idea at the time but now...

Al parked the car beside
a rusty old dumpster, and hurried over to her side of the car to open
her door, disrupting her musings. Winry stood from the car seat and
stared at her surroundings. The paved court yard was small and there
was no room for a garden like how she had imaged there would be.
That made her sad to think about, growing up without nature near by
was terrible. Al held out his arm for her to take. Adjusting her
bag to rest further up on her shoulder, Winry took Al's arm and he
led her towards the front doors.

The sandstone steps were
in terrible repair, chipped and eroded, making the risers tricky and
dangerous to the unwary. The landing at the top of the stairs had
debris and old leaves crowding the corners. Winry doubted that the
landing had ever seen a broom put to it. The main door was covered
with a heavy sheet metal, most likely to reinforce the entrance
against unwanted callers who wouldn't want to use the door bell, and
just above their heads, pointed down, was a camera.

Winry's heart tightened.
How could people want to live like this. She pulled her open autumn
jacket around her middle. Were their even places like this anymore?
Al pressed a button on the side of the door and waited for a moment
before the were let in with a buzz releasing the lock on the door.
He held the door open and she walked into the interior of the
building.

As soon as the front
door closed, they were greeted by a woman in an old tweed skirt and a
faded blouse who came striding towards them across the over polished
wooden floor. Her hair looked like it was twisted into many braids
that were pulled away from her face and gathered at the nape of her
neck.

“Dr.
Hughes, I'm so glad to see that you had the time to come see the
kids,” the woman said as she approached, holding her hand out
in greeting. Winry noticed that this woman, while quite formidable
looking, was wearing clothes that had been washed and repaired too
many times. What would have once been a white button-down blouse was
now a beige, and her tweed skirt could have come from a really bad
moment of insanity, as it looked as if it was from the worst part of
the 60's.

“Ms.
Curtis, you know I always make time for you and the kids no matter
what's going on with my schedule,” Al said as he clasped her
hand warmly. “This is Winry Mustang. She'll be making the
rounds with me today. Is that alright?”

“Of
course, please come this way,” Ms. Curtis held out her hand,
waiting for them to start down the hall.

“Winry,
Ms. Izumi Curtis is the director of this orphanage. When I learned
about this place I was very eager to help out,” Al explained to
Winry as they followed behind the director. Winry nodded and glanced
around at their surroundings. The paint was chipping off of the
walls, adding to the sad tired feel of the place. Why, for only a
few hundred thousand dollars this house could be remodeled and made
nice again. She could see the makings of a fine house. The
structure looked sound.

“Why
haven't you invested some money into re-doing this place,” she
asked quietly as they walked down the hall.

“This
whole neighborhood is like this, Winry. If I did that, I'd make them
into a target for crime. This way they're able to remain here, doing
good, while the rest of the community leaves them alone. Who would
want to break into a run down orphanage?”

“Then...just
what do you do here? You haven't really said,” asked Winry,
looking up at Al's profile.

“I
suppose you could say I'm half role model, half physician, half older
brother.” The side of Al's mouth quirked upwards into a smirk.

“It's
a good thing you're a doctor and not a mathematician. Three halves
don't make a whole.” Winry smirked back as Al squeezed her
hand on his arm.

“Well
you're the one with all the business education that you don't use,”
Al returned with a smirk.

“I
don't have to use it,” replied Winry. She was about to
elaborate further, but Ms. Curtis stopped in front of a door and
turned to face them.

“The
children are gathered inside,” said the director.

“Thanks
Ms. Curtis,” said Al, nodded to her. Giving Winry's hand an
encouraging squeeze, Al opened the door.

Winry stared in awe at
the many children that turned at the door's opening. There had to be
almost fifty kids; all eyes were on them. The silence lasted two
more seconds until the children recognized who was standing in the
door.

“Dr.
Al!” cheered the children in unison.

Winry took a step back
as they all ran towards them, or Al. She watched as he knelt down
and scooped up the kids at the front of the pack. The other children
piled up on all sides laughing and talking at once. It was very
overwhelming.

“See
Winry, this isn't so hard,” Al said, laughing from within the
mass of piled children.

“Easy
for you to say,” Winry mumbled, and stepped into the room of
squealing, laughing rug rats.

- - - -

Roy looked up from the
quarterly report to see a very angry Winry standing in his office
doorway looking like she might throw something at his head. “What
brings you to the office, Winry?” he asked politely. “I
wasn't aware that you even knew where it was?” he said,
laughing at his own joke. Really though, Winry hadn't been at the
office since she was five, so it was very possible that she, being
blond—by choice—could have forgotten where it was.

“Oh
please!
I don't think that will work on me,” Winry scoffed, her voice
dripping with contempt.

“Come
again?” asked Roy, puzzled; he let the report fall to his
desktop to give his sister a critical eye.

Letting
the office door swing close behind her, Winry brandished a newspaper
at him. “You're using
me! I can't believe you're using me! Where do you get OFF!”
Winry yelled. She smacked the paper down in front of Roy, causing
some of the reports to flutter to the floor, and glared at him.

Roy frowned up at his
sister. There was only so much he was willing to take from her, and
she had just crossed that line. “What's got your knickers in a
bunch?” growled Roy.

“You're
going after Hughes Technologies, and you're using ME to do it!”
Winry stabbed the offending article, her glare never once leaving
Roy's.

Her
eyes challenged him to deny it, but why would he. He was
using her. Roy looked down at the Wall Street Times paper and saw a
small article with the headline 'Mustang Inc. buying stock in Hughes
Technologies'. He cursed silently to himself, since when did Winry
read the financial section of anything.

“Sir,
is there anything I can help you with?” Roy's personal
assistant, Alex Armstrong, asked. His impressive physique filled the
doorway. At Roy's command he would 'escort' his sister out of his
office and prevent her return.

Roy pressed his lips,
and looked back at his sister. At his glare she took a seat in one
of the chairs in front of his desk. “No, thank you, Alex.”
With a nod, Alex closed the door, leaving Roy to handle this on his
own. As soon as the door was closed, Roy reached into his desk and
pulled out a gun.

“Oh
my GOD! I'm sorry, Roy, I won't—”

Roy ignored his sister
and aimed at a flat screen television, squeezing off a few pellet
shots.

“Holy...”
whispered Winry, clutching at her chest in shock.

“Look
at this!” Roy placed the pellet gun on the desk and walked
over to the screen. “Not a scratch. It's the best, strongest
plastic out there. The applications...aerospace, military, even the
private sector. This merger will have far reaching effects, and
we're the best company to take it to the next step, but the
competition is fierce. The fact that you're engaged to the son of
the company is a huge bonus for us—”

“Now
wait a minute, you're using me for you're own gain. I resent that.
This is my life you know!” Winry sat forward on the edge of
the chair.

“I
resent it too! My life makes your life possible. It's not like you
help out here. If you marry Al, I'll call us even,” bargained
Roy. He recalled the many heated fights he had with her about her
lack of involvement with running the company, not that Roy minded too
much, but it would have been nice to share the work load once and a
while.

“Bringing
that up again... Roy...I mean...I don't know if I can do
this...like, who would want to marry me?”
Winry ran a hand along her pony tail, and brought her hair over her
shoulder to fiddle with the ends. She ran the hair across her
knuckles and stared at the floor.

“Are
you kidding me?” Roy walked back around his desk and resumed
his seat. “Winry, you are a smart, beautiful, quick witted,
over educated, young woman. He's lucky to have you.”

“But
see, doesn't that make you wonder?” asked Winry, leaning on her
side of the desk. “He can't be right in the head if he wants
me, right?” She tapped her temple and sighed. “And how
am I going to take care of a husband? I couldn't care for the rabbit
I had as a kid, how do I take care of him?”

“Winry,
he's rich too, he can take care of himself.” Roy sighed. This
was so annoying, and he had work to get back too. “Winry...I
know how much you care for him. You did have me lie for you after
all. When have you ever asked me to do that?”

“True...but
still--”

“And
I heard you went to an orphanage with him. When has anyone ever
gotten you to do charity work when the paparazzi wasn't involved,”
said Roy. He ran his hand through his black hair.

“True...”
Winry nodded.

“And
Pinako told me how you didn't jump into bed until a month after
meeting him, you've never
done that.”

“Yeah,
true.” Winry smiled as she remembered their first time. It
had been worth the wait.

Roy fell silent as he
watched his sister. She had gone all dreamy eyed as she often did
when she seemed to be thinking about her future husband. Roy
swallowed. It seemed that his thoughts about a soul mate and his
lack of a partner from the other night, had, and would continue, to
haunt him. He pushed the brief stab of pain away, squashing it. His
life was the company; he had made his peace with that. “Now,
if you done...”

“Yeah,
sorry to barge in on you...thanks, Roy,” Winry said as she
stood.

Roy walked around the
desk and escorted Winry to the door. “Okay. See ya later,”
said Roy. She smiled at him before turning towards the elevators.

Crisis averted. Roy
shook his head and threw a pained look at Alex before retreating into
his office again. He could only hope that nothing else would happen
to sway his sister before the deal closed.

- - - -

The cold, bitter wind
rattled the windowpanes in Edward's apartment. Snow had begun to
fall shortly after coming home from work and it promised to be a
terrible storm. For now though, it was falling in large, fat flakes,
piling up in heavenly looking drifts of snow. He was just glad that
he got home before it really hit. Maybe it would shut down the city
and he could take a tomorrow off.

Edward let the curtain
fall back over the window and walked back to the couch. Finally his
training schedule had let up and now he was only training hard on the
weekends. During the week he would attend a one hour class and head
home. Last night, on his way out Ling had stopped him.

“Edward,
I want you to have a look at this,” Ling had said holding out a
CD case, as Edward pulled on his sweater.

“What's
this?” he'd asked taking the case and looking through the
cover.

“It's
a DVD I made of some of the fighters from the last worlds, and since
you've gone up a few weight classes lately, I want you to pay special
attention to the last fighter. You might have to deal with him.”

“Okay,”
Edward said, tucking the disk into his bag.

Edward popped the DVD
out of the case and inserted it into his laptop sitting on the coffee
table. Making himself comfortable on the floor he watched through
all four hours of tape until the last fighter came on.

He was a well muscled,
dark skinned man with white hair. The camera focused on him, and
Edward could tell he was glaring at the camera holder even though his
eyes were covered by dark sunglasses. He wore loose, baggy pants
with white trim going down one leg. Half way down, the trim slashed
across his knee. Edward was a little confused as to why he didn't
have on his martial arts top, but he shrugged it off. Maybe it was
so he could show off the large tribal tattoo going down his right
arm.

As he approached the
camera Edward's focus was drawn to the man's face. He had a large
'X' type scar across his forehead traveling down to either side of
his cheeks. The camera was jostled and the picture was hard to make
out for a minute as the camera man took up a better position to see
the match. When the picture stilled, the dark, scared man was facing
his opponent.

The referee seemed to be
taking offense to the scared man's attire for the match and was
arguing with the judges. They all shook their heads and the referee
walked to the center of the ring. He motioned the fighters to stand
on the center of the mat. The scared man didn't even bother to take
his sunglasses off as he took up his position. Edward could feel the
weight of the glare he was giving to his opponent and he got nervous
about having that glare directed at him.

The referee started the
match and stood back. The other fighter circled the dark man, but he
didn't move. He didn't even turn to watch as he was out flanked.
Edward saw the opponent's first mistake, over confidence. The other
fighter shook his head and struck out with a fast kick to the back of
the scared man's knees. Almost too quick for the eyes, the scared
man leapt up into the air and whipped his leg out behind him catching
the other fighter full in the face with his bare heal.

Edward groaned in
sympathy as the other fighter staggered backwards towards the edge of
the mats. The referee came forward and paused the clock. Edward
watched the scared man's disinterest as the other fighter's ability
to continue the match was assessed. Finally the match restarted and
the scared man turned to face the other fighter again. This time the
scared man struck first. He reached out with his bear-like right
hand and gripped the other fighter's face. Pulling back a little, he
proceeded to throw his opponent viciously to the floor.

The
other guy got up fast and began to search for an opening. Feeling
time running out, his opponent rushed in throwing everything he had.
Lighting fast punch combos mixed in with beautiful kicks to all
points of the body. It seemed to be working. The scared man was
retreating from the onslaught. Edward gripped the table edge making
his knuckles turn white; he knew
that the scared man was playing with his opponent.

There had to be about
thirty seconds left in the match now. If the scared man was going to
strike he should do it soon. Edward could feel his heart pounding
within his chest.

The scared man finally
acted. He rushed forward slipping past his opponent's guard. The
other fighter started and looked up wide eyed into the sunglasses.
Edward could see how the man tried to process this and failed. The
scared man threw four cruel upper cuts into the solar plexus of his
opponent, cutting off his air. Then he took a step back and spinning
on the ball of his foot, he lashed out with a hook kick to the side
of his face, sending him flying into the crowd lining the mats.

The camera tilted then
and cut off. Edward stared blankly at his computer screen. He
hadn't yet been able to achieve that kind of power, and quickness
didn't seem to be of any use against that guy. Gnawing on his thumb
nail, his mind raced with strategies on how to defeat an opponent
such as him. The only thing he could think of would be to stay in a
lower weight class, but with the way he was building muscle tone that
might be hard to do. He had already had to go out and buy new
clothes twice as his old ones became too tight and constrictive.

Sighing, Edward zipped
back through the fight and prepared to watch it again; hoping for
some sort of inspiration on what he could do if he had to face this
man at the world tournament.

- - - -

Roy sighed. He was
exhausted from his long day on the phone with his overseas vice
presidents. They just could not get along, and they were costing him
money. He should just let them go and promote someone who would get
their act together...and now he had to head over to the Hughes' place
for dinner with them. Winry and Pinako would already be there; most
likely perturbed at him for being late.

Sighing once more, Roy
allowed his eyes to close, and was lulled by the motion of the car.
Blinking his eyes open, Roy sat up trying to shake off the sudden
desire to sleep.

“Hohenheim,
talk to me before I pass out. How is Edward doing in Paris?”
Roy rubbed his eyes in an effort to banish his slothful nature.

“He's
making due, sir,” said Hohenheim from the front seat.

“Coming
home for Christmas?” Roy wondered aloud, looking at the back of
his driver's head.

“'Fraid
not, sir. He's begun to training to compete in a world tournament
being held next year. If he came home he wouldn't have the funds to
travel to San Francisco.”

“That's
rough.” Roy frowned. From what he knew of Hohenheim and his
son, this would be the first time apart for the holidays, and for
some reason he felt compelled to offer them a way to spend the time
together. “Do you want me to—”

“Begging
your pardon, sir, but I don't think you should. Edward needs to be
on his own.” Hohenheim looked at Roy from within the rear view
mirror.

“How
about you go—” Roy tried again. Why was he being so
generous, and insisting. This wasn't like him. If he got a no, he'd
leave it at that, but it seemed that he was pushing. It didn't make
sense, and he was too tired to analyze himself.

“I
couldn't possibly leave you and your mother to drive yourselves.
Please sir, it's all been settled, Edward's fine with this.”

“Well,
I have to say, I'll miss not having him around, even though he avoids
me like the plague.” Roy glanced out the car window. It was a
polite thing to say, but he couldn't honestly say that he'd be sorry
that the sulking teen was going to be absent this year. “Do
you know why he doesn't like me?” asked Roy, curiosity getting
the better of him. He looked at the back of Hohenheim's head.

“I
can't say, sir, he's never confided with me about his thoughts about
you.”

“Hnm.”
Roy looked back out the window. He idly watched the tall buildings
turn into beautiful houses before finally remembering something
Hohenheim had said. “What's this about a world tournament?”

“Ah,
it seems that Edward was discovered. He's a natural fighter that's
being groomed to compete. He was recently in a tournament in Greece
and got gold for his weight class.”

Roy's eyes widened. “A
fighter?” That skinny kid? That clumsy, skinny kid was going
to do that! “Phew, that's brave. You must be very proud,”
said Roy in his most personable voice, never letting on that it
sounded absolutely ludicrous to him.

“Yes,
sir, I am,” Hohenheim gushed, and then remembered himself and
sobered up. “We're here.” He pulled the car to a slow
stop in front of a large stone house.

Smoothing his dark hair
and straightening his tie, Roy got out of the vehicle as soon as
Hohenheim opened the door. Shaking his long autumn weather trench
coat closer around his body, Roy climbed the steps and rang the bell,
and was promptly admitted inside. With his jacket whisked away, he
was led into the drawing room, where his mother, sister, and her
fiancé were talking with Maes and Gracia Hughes.

“Roy,
about time you got here,” Maes said, grinning from ear to ear.
His graying, slicked back hair shone in the lamp light. He held up a
glass of scotch and raised an eyebrow.

Silently refusing the
offered drink, Roy put his hand in his pant pocket. “I'm
sorry, things got crazy.”

“Not
at all, not at all. It's good to see you working so hard at making
us rich,” said Maes. He crossed the room and threw an arm
around Roy's shoulders. “You're almost family after all.”

“I
think supper's ready now, should we head over?” Gracia
interrupted smoothly.

Roy let his mouth close.
He was quite content to let whatever Maes said slide. Rocking the
boat would just force Maes to look else where for a partnership.
After all the time he had already put into to this merger, he wanted
something to show for it.

He followed behind his
own family as they made their way to the dinning room across the
hall.

“Roy,
dear, you look positively exhausted,” Pinako murmured, falling
behind in order to talk with him. “What happened?”

“Nothing,
just the usual rubbish from India.” Roy put his other hand
into his pants pockets as well, allowing his shoulders to droop.
“What do you think about letting the VP's (1) go?”

“I
think that's fine. In fact, you could have their positions taken
over by our interests in Europe.”

“Saves
on salary and bonuses. Then it's done,” agreed Roy, nodding
his head. “I won't be staying late tonight.” He had no
problem firing someone so close to the holidays. Of course he would
offer a healthy severance package, but the benefit to the bottom line
would make the stockholders very happy.

“Of
course,” agreed Pinako.

- - - -

The meal was, of course,
fantastic. Winry could find no fault, and she was looking too. The
dishes were exquisite; the cutlery was polished and immaculate. The
almost too large flower center piece was beautiful, and blocked her
view of her brother and mother sitting across from her and Al. Mr.
and Mrs. Hughes were sitting at the table ends, chatting it up with
Roy.

“Have
you seen Al's baby pictures yet, Roy? Here let me show you,”
said Maes with a manic sort of grin stretching across his face.
Winry looked over in time to see Maes pull a leather bound photo
album from seemingly nowhere and pass it down the table under Roy's
nose.

As Maes began to explain
each photo and what was happening in detail, Winry remembered when
she had gotten the same treatment. It had almost made her break it
off then and there, but somehow an embarrassed glance from Al as he
sat in the couch across from her made her keep her seat.

Al
leaned into her from his seat beside her and nudged her shoulder with
his own. “Something
on your mind, sexy?” Al murmured into her ear, sending shivers
down her spine.

“No,
honey. I'm fine,” lied Winry. The truth was she was about to
have a serious attack of cold feet. Each innocent comment about the
approaching wedding, the parties, or the guest list, made her
increasingly edgy. Every comment had her almost jumping from her
seat to make a break for the door. She really wanted to run away and
call the whole thing off. She honestly had no idea what was keeping
her in her chair right now. She reached out and brought the wine
glass up to her lips to take a large sip.

“Winry?
Have you thought any more about where you want to get married?
Church or maybe outdoors. I've always wanted to get married
outdoors--Honey, what do you say we renew our vows and do it
outside?” Maes asked, gazing down the table at his wife.
Although to do so he had to lean to the side to see around the
flowers in the center of the table.

“Oh!
I know, why don't we make it a double wedding,” said Gracia,
her voice full of the wonder and joy that idea caused.

Winry's eyes bugged out,
and she choked on her mouthful of wine. A double wedding...with the
parents! She began to cough into her hand with the horror of it.
Oh, god. What if they were serious! The humiliation of standing at
the alter with Al's mom... Her girlfriends wouldn't ever let her
live that one down.

“Mom,”
warned Al.

“Okay,
fine! You're such a party pooper, Al.” Gracia pouted a moment
before smiling at her son. “Ooh, I'm so happy for you two. My
son, married.”

“Not
quite yet, mom,” laughed Al, throwing a glance at Winry, which
made her look away quickly.

Winry
tried to smile. Marriage?
What the hell was she thinking? Never to have sex with someone
other then her soon-to-be husband...well, it was good
sex...but still! Now she wouldn't have the option. Roy was staring
at her funny from around the center piece. The merest lift of her
eyebrow and he came to her rescue.

“Gracia,
I noticed on my way in your wonderful collection of paintings. Who's
the artist, I don't recognize the work,” asked Roy, leaning
towards her to draw her attention away from Winry.

“Oh!
Do you like it? It's from an artist—”

Winry slowly tuned out
the conversation and let the tension ebb from her body. She had been
so close to jumping from her seat and running for the door. Reaching
across her plate she lifted the wine glass and sipped at the red
liquid. God, she loved Roy. Always able to come to her rescue
whenever she needed help or someone to talk to.

Maybe she would wake up
soon and this would all be a dream, because she really couldn't
believe this was happening to her at all.

-- To be continued --

Happy author's update
faster XD So fill my in-box with reviews.

6 freaking days till the
black belt test and my instructor killed my kicking leg...will it be
okay by next Wednesday? O.o
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