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New Year's Resolutions	By : Saranwyn Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male > Roy/Ed Views: 1478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or the characters, nor do I profit from them.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang sat at his desk, pretending to go over the paperwork stacked up on his desk. Lieutenant Hawkeye glanced at him, frowning.
“Sir…that same paper has been on the top of the stack for the past twenty minutes. Are you even trying to act like you’re doing work?” she asked critically. He sighed and tapped his pen against the paper. “You have to do it, Sir. Why drag it out?” The colonel knew she was right. He was just tired. He needed a pick-me-up.
Suddenly, the door open and in walked Edward Elric. Mustang simultaneously tried to suppress a groan and a grin, caught between being glad the boy was there and being frustrated that he couldn’t touch him.
“The Fullmetal Alchemist, reporting for duty,” he announced, flinging himself onto the couch and sprawling carelessly across the cushions. The Flame Alchemist curled his toes, shooting him a glare. Is he trying to tempt me? he wondered in disbelief.
“Have some respect for the place and your superiors, Elric – sit up straight,” he ground out. The teen cracked and grin and sat up straight, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, his eyes trained on Mustang.
“Do you have anything for me to do?” he asked. The older man stared down at his desk, trying to ignore Edward’s gaze on him. When did I let him get the upper hand like this? he thought furiously. And why am I feeling like a horny teenager? “Nothing? Well, I guess I’ll just wait here until you come up with something.”
Edward certainly hoped his plan was working. It was all he could do to keep his libido under control. But it had been three weeks since he and Mustang had done it, and they hadn’t seen each other privately first. The teen was at his wit’s end. After all, he was a teenager. He had urges, and he was quite intent on getting Mustang to satisfy them. You really shouldn’t do this, he told himself sternly. You’re at work! You promised to keep it professional! And yet there was the colonel, sitting there with that smoldering gaze, just daring him to try something.
“Edward, there are some files I need from Archive Room 240 B. You’re not busy. Go get them for me. I need everything you’ve got on someone by the name of Kale Barons.” Mustang ordered suddenly. The teen stood, frowning, and walked off. Idiot, brushing me off like that! I mean, I know we said we’d keep it professional at work, but he could find a more sympathetic way of refusing me! He opened the door and stumped into the dark, musty room, flicking on the light before slamming the door behind him. Stupid Mustang! I mean…he warned me about this, but seriously, it’s not like we’re in the middle of something big right now? He can’t clear a few hours out of his schedule to run home, grab a shower, and spend some time with me?!
Suddenly, the lights flickered off. Edward stopped walking, swearing softly. Grumbling about his horrible luck, he turned to head back to the door, hands out and feeling around for anything he might bump into. He’d barely gotten four steps before there was a soft snap and a small flame appeared to the right of him. he turned to see Mustang standing there, watching him.
“I warned you about this, Fullmetal,” he murmured, coming forward. “You said you could handle it.”
“I can! I just…”
“What?”
“W-well, I assumed I could if there were a good reason. But for stupid paperwork that’s not even important…I just…I mean…um…” he trailed off, suddenly his frustration gone. Dammit, he’s right. And now he has to come here and lecture me about it! Great. “W-why’d you turn the lights off?” he demanded, hoping for a change of subject. The colonel’s lips twitched and his free hand came up under Edward’s jaw, tilting his face up so he could kiss him full on the mouth.
“We don’t have much time, because I told Hawkeye I was delivering some papers to one of my superior’s offices,” he mumbled into the teen’s mouth, letting the flame extinguish so he could wrap his other arm around his waist. Edward allowed himself to be steered backwards until he hit a bookshelf. One hand came up to thread into Mustang’s hair, gripping lightly while the other clutched at his shoulder. The kiss felt like rain after a hundred-year-drought. Edward found himself pulling the older man closer, unable to stop himself as he plunged his tongue into the other’s mouth. A moan of relief escaped the blonde when Mustang reciprocated the kiss just as enthusiastically, twisting their tongues together.
At length they parted, panting. Edward, however, refused to let go of Mustang, holding him just centimeters away. He didn’t want the moment to end. And it wasn’t just about his libido, anymore. He wanted something more than sexual gratification.
“Colonel-”
“I know,” the raven-haired man cut him off, kissing his head. “I know. I’ll go home on time tonight. Let yourself in the way you came last time and wait for me, okay? I’ll be home by seven or eight.”
“You’re sure?” he asked. Mustang nodded.
“I’m sure. Believe it or not, I do miss you.” The teen swallowed hard at the honest confession.
“Oh,” he whispered, unable to come up with a witty response or sarcastic retort.
“I have to go,” Mustang reminded him.
“Oh.”
“Which means you have to let go of my hair.” Edward blinked and then released him, blushing slightly. Mustang leaned in and kissed him one more time, far too briefly, and then walked off, turning back on the light. The Fullmetal Alchemist stood there, slightly stunned at what had just occurred, his fingers held lightly to his lips. Tonight, he thought, a shiver of anticipation running through him. Then, remembering his reason for being back there, he started looking for the files on Kale Barons. Grabbing them, he headed back to the office. Mustang was already back at his desk when he got in.
“Got your files, sir,” he declared, tossing them down onto his desk.
“What took you so long?” he sneered. “Did you have to get a ladder to reach them?” Edward went red with fury.
“Who are you calling so short he can’t even-?!”
“Fullmetal,” Mustang cut him off. “I don’t have time for you to rant at me. Unlike some people, I actually work for a living instead of letting other people do my work for me.” Edward scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets, and spun on his heel. “Fine! Well I’m out of here!” Mustang couldn’t help but smirk a little. The teen was so cute when he got riled up like that.
“Stop procrastinating, sir,” Hawkeye sighed. He forced down a chuckle as the door slammed shut behind the youngest member of his team.
“Yes, yes. I’m working,” he assured her, turning his attention to the papers on his desk. Suddenly, the day didn’t seem so bad, anymore. He’d been worried about seeing Edward too much, about raising suspicions. Maybe that was why he’d pulled back further than perhaps what was necessary. Better to err on the side of caution, and all. But maybe he’d overdone it. After all, what was the point of even confessing to Edward and actually agreeing to do this with him if he never allowed them to see each other?
Around six-twenty, Mustang finally cleared up the work that had been piling up on his desk. Hiding a grin, he got up. It looked like he’d be going home a little early. Won’t that be a nice surprise for him? he thought, standing up and stretching. Suddenly, the door was flung open and a young soldier came running in. His clothes were rumpled, dirt smudged his face, his hair was a wreck, and a sizeable bruise was forming over his right eye.
“Sir! There’s been an escape at the prison!” he cried. “I was told to come get you personally to handle it!” Mustang was already grabbing his coat and throwing it on, halfway out the door. “It’s Kimblee, Sir!” The colonel’s blood froze in his veins. Of all the murdering scumbags he’d locked away, Kimblee was the only one that actually scared him. They’d fought in the war together, and Kimblee didn’t do it out of duty or obedience. He hadn’t joined the military to protect people or to make a living or to serve his country. He glorified in the killing. He’d joined the military so he could get a free pass to murder people.
“Hawkeye, Havoc, let’s go!” he called, jolting himself back to reality and taking off at a sprint. I’m sorry Ed. I’ll hurry back as fast as I can, he thought. I’ve got till eight before I’m late, anyways. He headed straight to the prison, coming to a halt as he neared it. There was a sizeable hole in the wall and soldiers milled around, counting prisoners to make sure no others escaped, clearing rubble, or helping the injured. “How long has it been?” he asked the soldier that had informed him of the breakout.
“Five minutes, give or take,” he replied.
“Okay. We need a 5 block perimeter now, and a team combing the streets. That team will consist of myself, First Lieutenant Hawkeye, Second Lieutenant Havoc, Major Armstrong, Second Lieutenant Ross, and Sergeant Brosh. Everyone is to stay in pairs, and if you see Kimblee, don’t approach him. If you’ve got a clear shot at his head, take it, but if you can’t put a bullet in his brain, he’s too dangerous for you to get near. Instead, send word to me. Lieutenant Hawkeye, you’re with me – we’ll take 7^th street through 10^th. Havoc, you accompany Armstrong and take the next three streets. Ross and Brosh…look out for each other and take the next three.” The set off, Hawkeye falling into step with him.
“Where do you think he’ll go sir?”
“I’m counting on him wanting to get away from people long enough to make us think he’s getting out of central. That means he’ll probably want to head to the warehouse district, at least until he can get out of his prison uniform.”
“Why wouldn’t he just leave Central? He probably wouldn’t mind walking to the next city over.”
“No. While he likes killing just about anyone, he wouldn’t give up the chance to hit some political targets. He’ll stay in central where he can kill high-powered military officers.”
“High-powered military officers like you, sir?”
“Perhaps. I haven’t given it much thought, seeing as I’m going to see him back in prison or six feet under tonight.” Hawkeye frowned disapprovingly but fell silent. They spent the next two hours combing through streets and warehouses with little success.
“Sir, this is our last street,” Hawkeye commented as they turned onto 10^th street. Mustang’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent as they went to the first warehouse, first checking the outside for signs of forced entry or alchemical alteration before going inside to check. He’s got to be here, he thought. On this street, in one of these buildings. He has to be! There’s no way I misjudged him! Growling in frustration, he went to the next warehouse. They continued up the row until at last they found one with a shattered window. Mustang held a finger to his lips and used Alchemy to unlock the door to allow them to silently slip inside. His pulse hammered in his veins. He’s got to be here. I know it!
Suddenly, he was thrown back as an explosion erupted right in front of him. He hit the ground hard, stars bursting before his eyes. Dammit! He stood and looked around. A shadow moved somewhere to his right and he spun, snapping to illuminate the area. Kimblee leapt out of hiding to avoid the flames, grinning like a madman.
“Well, if it isn’t the Hero of the Ishvalan War of Extermination!” he snickered. “I was so hoping it would be you. And I see you’ve still got that faithful lieutenant following you around.” Hawkeye leveled her gun at the felon.
“Turn yourself in or I’ll be forced to kill you,” she barked. He grinned and clapped his hands together. Mustang had half a second to grab Hawkeye and throw them both to the side as the ground beneath their feet exploded. Still on her back, with Mustang half on top of her, she fired three shots at Kimblee, one of which hit his shoulder, the other two which missed as he ran to find cover in the boxes, again. Mustang got up and snapped, sending flames racing to chase the other man. Another explosion sent them staggering backwards again. One of the boxes nearest Mustang exploded, making his ears ring. He snapped again, forcing his quarry back out into the open. Hawkeye fired again. This time, she hit him in the stomach. His hands came together, but Mustang was already running forward and tackling him, the explosion at his heels. He pinned Kimblee down, panting, holding his wrists up by his head, keeping them apart.
“I bet you want to kill me right now,” Kimblee commented, grinning wickedly. “But you aren’t going to, are you? You’re going to turn me to prison, like a good dog of the military.” Mustang clenched his jaw. “Do you think feeling guilty absolves you of what you did in Ishval? You still serve the man that is responsible for that massacre. The way I see it, I’m actually doing the more moral thing, here.”
“Don’t even try manipulating me! It won’t work!” Mustang snapped. Kimblee laughed.
“I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.” His knee came up into the colonel’s stomach, forcing the wind from him and suddenly Mustang found himself on his back with Kimblee over him. “I was distracting you.” Mustang winced at two shots went off, and suddenly Kimblee slumped over him, limp. Hawkeye walked over, holstering her gun, and pulled the now-dead prisoner up off her commanding officer.
“Are you alright, sir?” she asked.
“Yeah…get to a phone and call it in.” She nodded and walked off. Fifteen minutes later, the paramedical team was there as well as Brigadier General Basque Grand. Mustang reported what had happened and was taken to the hospital with Hawkeye to be checked for injuries.
He sat on the hospital bed, staring at the clock as the minutes dripped by. Of course, it was slow to get a doctor due to the people injured in the break out. He considered just leaving, but he’d just lectured later if he did, and he was a little concerned that he might’ve gotten a concussion. It was past nine-thirty before a doctor came in. Man, Edward’s gonna kill me, he thought remorsefully. And I was really looking forward to getting to spend some time with him. I wonder if he left? Did he get dinner? The doctor smiled.
“We’ll try to keep this quick,” he promised.
“Huh?”
“It’s late. You must be exhausted. Let’s take a look at you.” Mustang nodded, grimacing. The examination was rather quick, considering he hadn’t broken any bones. He was bruised up pretty badly, the worst being where Kimblee had kneed him in the stomach, and he did have a concussion, but it was minor enough that he didn’t have to spend the night. It was just turning ten as he signed his own release papers and left.
“Goodnight, sir,” Hawkeye called, standing up as he came out.
“Were you waiting here for me?” he asked.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Get some sleep.”
“Yeah. You too.”
“Are you alright? I mean…Kimblee didn’t…get to you, did he?” she asked. He scoffed more confidently than he felt.
“Of course not.” Then, he headed home. He opened the door and noticed the kitchen light on. Hanging his coat on the coatrack and setting his gloves on the desk, he went to the kitchen to find the table set with salad, rice, and chicken laid out, and Edward there, asleep with his head on the table. The colonel’s chest clenched as he walked over to the boy and brushed his bangs from his face, noticing tearstains on his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He put all this effort into it…and did he really cry over it? Guiltily, he picked up the boy a little awkwardly, and carried him to bed. Edward groaned softly.
“Colonel?” He looked down to see those honey-gold eyes flutter open groggily. “Wh-what time is it?”
“I’m sorry. It’s after ten. Something came up at work.” He laid Edward down on the bed. “Thank you for cooking dinner. You shouldn’t have.” The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“What happened? I waited but you…you…you said eight o’clock,” he pouted, still too deeply in the grasp of slumber to be angry.
“I’m sorry. There was a break out at the prison and-”
“Are you okay?”
“Huh? Yeah. I’m fine. I would’ve called and warned you or something, but there was no time, and I’d have sent someone to tell you, but…”
“But that would’ve exposed our secret. Yeah.” The teen sighed and stood up, stretching. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No, but don’t worry about it. I’ll-”
“Come on. I’ll heat up dinner.” Mustang hesitated and then smiled a little.
“Thanks. Are you angry?”
“How can I be? It was a stupid prison break out. You couldn’t do anything about it. I mean, I’m not happy but you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I could’ve told someone else to handle it.”
“Not only would that have been suspicious, but you wouldn’t be you if you did that, so how can I expect that?” The teen took the rice and chicken and put it back on the stove. “Let’s get started on salad before I change my mind and get angry.” Mustang sat down, shocked at how understanding Edward was being. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not a kid. I can be mature.” The blonde served them both some salad before sitting down as well.
“Thank you for dinner.”
“Don’t thank me until you’ve had it and decided it’s good.”
“It’s the tho-”
“Don’t you dare say it’s the thought that counts, because that’s only half true. Action, even good-intentioned action, without wisdom is just stupid, not thoughtful. If I’m a lousy cook, I should just own up to it and buy you something out.”
“…Sorry.” Edward groaned.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…still half asleep and…”
“Go on and say it. You’re disappointed.”
“Yeah. I am. I was really looking forward to…to…” the Fullmetal Alchemist trailed off, his voice tight as he looked away, his eyes suspiciously bright.
“I was looking forward to spending time with you, too. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. This weekend. I won’t go into the office at all on Saturday, this week. How about that?”
“Yeah. That sounds good.” They lapsed into silence for a long, tense moment while they both ate. “Who was it?”
“Huh?”
“The escaped prisoner. Who was it?”
“Salf J. Kimblee. I knew him from the war.” Edward nodded.
“I read about him somewhere. He’s…killed a lot of people.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Sort of. Not really. We talked a few times.”
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
“Well, facing someone from the war, again. Someone that turned into a murderer. You know, war can do that to people. That could’ve been anyone. Could’ve been you. I mean, the war could’ve literally driven you mad and turned you into…something you aren’t.”
“He was like that…even during the war.”
“But you don’t know how he was before it. I mean…” the teen sighed. “I’m not supporting him or anything, I just…it’s frightening…what that kind of thing can do to people.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’ve always tried not to think about it.”
“Did you catch him?”
“He’s dead.”
“…Oh.” Mustang shrugged, trying not to seem as distressed as he felt. Edward’s eyes flicked up and down his form as the teen stood and got the chicken and rice off the stove, setting it on the table and serving them both. “What’s bothering you?” he asked.
“It’s-”
“Don’t say it’s nothing. I may be a kid, but I’m also your lover, so be honest and rely on me a little bit! What kind of relationship are we going to have if we can’t be honest with each other?” Mustang sighed, embarrassed by his passion.
“Fine. I just…wonder if I’m doing the right thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Staying in the military. I haven’t doubted myself…not once in all these years since I started my mission. But aren’t I still serving the man who is responsible for the War of Ishval? How can that be the moral thing to do, whatever my goals?”
“And you think it would be better to do what Kimblee did? Kill people that are doing evil things? That’s…that’s not right on any account.”
“I know that, but…but I’m still held to the Fuhrer’s will. If he orders another massacre…”
“Colonel…Mustang…Roy.” Edward reached across the table and took his hand, staring at him seriously. “You are doing the right thing. You are helping people and you are working to fix the system. No revolution, even a revolution from the inside, comes without its casualties. You chose the way with the least harm possible done. Why do you think people like Hawkeye and Havoc and Hughes support you? They support you because they believe in what you’re doing…just like I do.” Mustang smiled a little.
“Thank you, Edward.” The teen released him and went back to eating. “This is good, by the way. You’re not a bad cook.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you like it. Did you get hurt at all?”
“A minor concussion and some bruises. It’s no big deal.” They fell silent, again. After dinner, Edward took the plates to the sink and washed them.
“You just rest, okay?” The older man sat down on the couch, exhaling deeply. A while later, the teen came to join him, sitting down next to him. He sat there, struggling to think of something to talk about and failing miserably.
“How’s Alfonse doing?”
“Huh? Oh. He’s fine. He’s found some kitten and refuses to get rid of it. I guess I’m not around very much, and he needs something to keep him company, so I’m not fighting it too hard. As long as it’s not making a mess, I guess I’ve got no right to complain about it.”
“Have you ever considered asking him to stay with the Rockbells?”
“Yeah. I’ve tried that, and he wouldn’t hear of it. I don’t think I could send him away, even if I wanted to. Especially after that whole fiasco with your brother.”
“I guess. He can be as stubborn as you are.” Edward nodded, chuckling. “And how have you been?”
“I guess I’m okay. No new leads on the Philosopher’s Stone or getting Al his body back. But something will turn up if I just keep digging.”
“Yeah. You’ll figure it out. If anyone can it’s you.” The colonel idly ran his fingers through Edward’s hair, toying with the ends. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”
“We probably should. There’s work in the morning and you must be tired.” Mustang nodded. “Can I…stay though?”
“Of course. I’ll get some pajamas for you.” The older man got up and walked off to his room, allowing Edward to follow. He got out two pairs of pajamas and gave one to the teen. Instead of making them smaller with alchemy as Mustang had expected him to, Edward stripped down to his boxers, put on the shirt, and crawled into bed. Frowning slightly, the colonel picked up Edward’s discarded clothes and folded them, setting them on top of his drawers before changing and getting into bed next to the boy. The cool metal of the teen’s right arm slid around his waist, raising goosebumps on his side, but Mustang just pulled him closer and nuzzled his face into Edward’s hair, kissing the top of his head lightly.
“Goodnight…Roy.”
“Goodnight, Edward.” Suddenly the boy reeled back. “What is it?” Mustang asked. The blond leaned up and kissed him briefly.
“Wanted to do that,” he murmured. Then, he tucked himself back into the circle of Mustang’s arms, nestling his head beneath the man’s chin. Mustang smiled and fell asleep.
- 11
- 12
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New Year's Resolutions