Better Living Through Alchemy

“It's going to be fine,” a familiar and loved voice whispered in his ear. Ed turned slightly from the spectacle in front of him, of students rushing about to set up booths and stands. The General winked his solitary eye. He was wearing his cap and dress uniform and he looked marvelous. His presence was such relief and Ed cursed the fact he couldn’t kiss him.

A sudden burst of light took everyone by surprise and all heads swiveled in its direction. Al looked up, grinned sheepishly and waved. He was helping Ed's class set up their booth and had decided to be decorative. Before he knew it, he was swamped with students from other classes begging him to come and help with their booths.

“That is exactly the reason I said I wouldn't help them,” Ed nodded toward Al's predicament, “I'd be transmuting fancy booths all day.”

The General chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“You have this Professor job down pat,” he grinned.

“What can I say?” Ed grinned back, “I'm gifted.”

Seth and Daniel charged over, R.D. running frantically along side them, his leash held tightly in Seth's hand.

“Professor,” Seth panted, “Okay, the football team says they get two spaces for their booth and Mr. Harding says they only get one because the band has already got their booth set up and Coach Taylor said it was poor planning on your part and then he and Mr. Harding started having heated words.” Seth nodded, eyes large behind his glasses.

“They're cussing,” Daniel translated.

Roy slapped Ed on the back and grinned huge.

“Gifted, you say? Diplomacy is now called for, I seem to remember you have a failing grade in that department,” Roy simpered.

“You shut the fuck up,” Ed snapped, then clamped his mouth closed and looked sidelong at Daniel and Seth. Seth was blushing but Daniel was grinning toothily. Ed let out a groan.

“Fine, let me go play peace keeper, lead the way boys,” Ed gestured and the pair rushed off ahead of him with Ed following along behind. R.D. kept trying to wait for him, but got dragged along by the boys.

“This is so much fun,” the General said to Ed's retreating back.

****

Alex found him standing beside the bleachers, worrying a single glove between his hands. He stood beside him and clasped his hands behind his back. Alex made an impressive figure in a three piece suit and looked both formidable and respectable. They glanced at each other again and then back out over the fields.

“I'm glad to hear you've come to your senses,” the former State Alchemist said to the General, “It means so much to Edward, and to yourself, though you would deny it.”

“It's been a while,” Roy sighed, “I actually practiced,” He shook his head, “Ed and I drove out into the middle of nowhere and I shot off random flares and aerial bursts. I just hope I can pull this off.”

“You worry too much old friend,” the large man smiled, “You've never let Edward down before.”

Roy shrugged and glanced up at the bleachers.

“I've been informed that I'm to be in position no later than three o'clock,” the General grinned, “Until then, I am left to my own devices. You know Ed was holding out on us all these years, I think he would have made a fine commander in the army.”

“Indeed,” Alex intoned, “I was well informed of the parameters of my demonstration, or should I say demolition? What do you know of this Hydro Alchemist who will also be performing?”

“Otto?” Roy said, “He's a pleasant enough sort, you'll like him. He was a Major in the west back before General Alton took over there, do you remember Alton? He was a great lover of hunting. He and Riza's grandfather use to go out to that lodge in Cartwell all the time,” Roy fiddled with his glove some more, but hadn't put it on.

“I can't say I recall... look at that,” Alex raised his hand to point and Roy lifted his head, looking in the direction his attention was being called to. Edward was walking across the field and trailing behind him in a uniform row was a good number of his students.

“They're like ducklings,” Roy chuckled, “I hear tale Edward is the envy of many of his fellow teachers because the very same boys don't behave half as well out of his sight.”

Ed stopped, turned around and put his hands on his hips. He leaned forward and said something to the first boy in the row, then lifted his hand and pointed at the rest of them. The first boy shrugged and turned to speak to the boy behind him, and it went like that throughout the entire lineup. The boy in the very back waved his hand at Ed and Ed raised his hand and waved back, then noticed himself doing it and dropped it. He made elaborate shooing motions and the group sulkily dispersed, so Ed turned and continued on his way. He only got a few feet before the line began to sneakily reform.

“A true leader of men,” Alex said with a laugh.

****

“Ed!” Al said, looking a bit wild eyed and desperate. He made a grab for his older brother's sleeve as Ed happened by, “You've got to help me!”

Ed made a low whistle and shook his head sympathetically.

“You know Al, you always complain and say I interfere in your life too much as it is,” Ed said and gently extracted his sleeve from his brother's desperate grip, “You also know I've told you before I think you're too nice and people take advantage of you. I think this is a good lesson for you, I don't think I should be bailing you out.”

“There are thirty-six booths,” Al wailed, “If you want me to be in any decent shape for your demonstration I need you to help me,” Al pleaded.

“If you let me down, well... I'll be disappointed of course,” Ed said, studying his gloves, “Learn to say 'no' Alphonse, really, it's not that difficult. I know you can, as I am often on the receiving end of your ventures into denial. I'm the only one you seem to be able to inflict it on.”

“You are a very cruel brother,” Al said and ran a hand through his bangs, “Fine, I'll finish up this one I'm working on and everyone else can do it the old fashioned way. After all, teacher said to use your hands when you could.”

Ed stood by as Al finished up the booth he had started and then turned to slink away. Ed followed him, directing him toward a good hiding place and they went to stand just under the lean of the bleachers.

“Please don't go over the plans again,” Al said, holding up his hands when Ed opened his mouth, “I know what I'm supposed to do and when I'm supposed to do it, follow your own advice and don't bail me out.”

Ed snorted and shook his head.

“So... how are things in East City? I mean, how are things going? Any more dates?” Ed asked.

Al sighed and rubbed his cheek a moment.

“No, but a couple of weeks before I left to come here, this building contractor showed up,” Al growled, “He acted really familiar with the Colonel and she went to dinner with him. I don't know what to think. She even called him by his first name and I didn't like that,” Al glanced at his brother, “You think I should be worried? I think maybe I should be worried. I mean, he showed up and then suddenly she was too busy for anything. I don't know if she went out with him again, I have no reason to hang around in her office unless I have a job or I'm summoned. I started to ask Pharr about it, but I wasn't sure how he'd feel being made a spy on his commanding officer,” Al tugged his lower lip and fixed Ed with a rather worried look, “I think I should head out tomorrow instead of the end of the week and get back, who knows what's going on?”

His elder brother did some kind of tight lipped little spasm and looked all around before looking at Al again and forcing a rather obviously fake smile.

“If you think that's best of course,” Ed said, trying to keep the whine out of his voice.

“You don't want me to leave tomorrow,” Al sighed, “You want me to hang out at the house waiting for you to get off work each day so you can come home and eat my cooking and argue theory with me until we go to bed.”

“That's not it,” Ed said, “Well okay maybe a little. It's just when you visit you always cut them short for some reason or another, or you just come to take care of your work and then I don't get to see you much either because we're both working. I'd take the rest of the week off if I could! But I only have tomorrow to spend the whole day with you and then the rest of the weekdays trying to make up the time. I know, I'm a selfish idiot; you don't have to tell me. Don't look at me like that.”

Al glanced away and Ed sighed.

“Yes okay, it does sound like someone could be moving in on your territory,” Ed said, “You know what Al, you've got to tell her.”

“I can't,” Al said. “I mean, I can't just come out and say it.”

“Why not?” Ed asked, “You're going to have to say something eventually,” he folded his arms.

“So did you just come out and tell Roy?” Al asked.

“No... but he came out and told me,” Ed said.

“So you didn't just come out and say anything until after you started dating,” Al said.

“We never dated,” Ed returned, “We just started... um yes, after we were dating.”

The General decided to be nosy at just that moment, ducking under the bleachers with them. Al grinned at him and Ed smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“What's the pow wow boys?” the General said with a grin of his own, “Everyone knows standing under the bleachers means serious business... or that you're going to make out.”

Al laughed as Ed scowled and the General sidled over to his lover, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“I was just telling Al he should come out and tell Riza how he feels,” Ed said and folded his arms, looking toward his younger brother.

Al gave an immediate look of sibling betrayal, but it softened out and he glanced at Roy, because in truth, he did want the General's opinion.

“How do you feel, Al?” the General asked, pushing his hands into his pockets, (to keep them off the Professor).

“The stakes have been upped,” Ed said before Al could answer, “Another man has entered the picture.”

“Is that so? Anyone I know?” the General questioned.

“His name is Macklin Talbert,” Al said, “I don't know him myself; he's an outside building contractor that the military has hired to design some new barracks.”

“What makes you think he's a threat?” the General asked.

“It's not so much that he's a threat,” Al said, studying the bleacher beams, “But he's so familiar with her and they went to dinner a couple of times before I came up to Central for the exhibition.”

“Did you go out with the Colonel as well? Or did she put you off to go out with this man?” The General said.

“No, it's nothing like that,” Al said, “We did go out before I left, and she said she'd miss me for the book reading that we had thought about attending, but that's just it, that's all we do. We go out and eat and talk about music and literature, or dogs and guns. I feel like I'm running in circles.”

“All the more reason to make the first move,” Ed said, “I think if she knew you were looking for more than friendship, things might change.”

“Maybe, but who says that's for the better?” Al said plaintively, “What if I scare her off? You know, if I can't have what I... prefer, then I'd want her friendship, I don't want to risk losing it.”

The General was looking at the Professor and the Professor noticed.

“What?” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“Don't let your brother tutor you in first moves,” the General said, “He's always been the bottle-it-up-inside kind, but he does make a good point.”

“You think I should tell her?” Al said, eyes getting a little round, “I remember when you dated her... I don't mean to pry, but do you think it would work?”

“Ah, about that,” Roy said and cast a sidelong glance at Ed who returned it with an indifferent look, “I wasn't at my best then, if you must know. Riza and I came to an understanding about our relationship; what she saw in me wasn't me per se, but an ideal. I don't think you'll run into that situation. In a lot of ways, you have been with her longer than any of us. If anything, that should be to your advantage. Don't let me or your brother talk you into anything that you don't feel comfortable with yourself. Riza is sometimes a very difficult woman to deal with; she likes to shut herself off, not like Ed, but in different ways.

“It's common that displays of emotion are seen as a sign of weakness, more so in women. You can see where this train of thought is leading. Riza is so in control of herself, because she had to be, that I don't think she realizes it anymore. So, if she has feelings for you, I'm not sure she would know how to convey them. And you yourself, Alphonse; dancing around the issue and taking it slow looking for some sign; you might as well dance forever.

“No, definitely something has to give, and I have to say... it would have to be you.”

Al seemed to work that over and after a moment, he smiled.

“Thanks,” he said, “I think you're right.”

It was then that the booth builders he'd abandoned found him and Al cast pleading eyes at his brother, who shrugged in a 'what-can-I-do-about-it?' way. Al got led off by his hands and some prettily worded pleas while Roy shook his head, looked at Ed and smiled.

“Not at your best, where you?” Ed said, “That's not like you.”

“I had this six year off period,” the General said, “I can't imagine why.”

****

“What the fuck is that?”

“You're from Risembool; I assume you know good and well what that is.”

“What? Bastard! I know what it is, but what is it? I mean, what is it doing here?”

“I suspect it's the football team’s mascot. It's so good to see that the old traditions still live strong and steadfast in the hearts and minds of the youth today.”

“It reminds me, I so miss sausage with my breakfast, I get terrible heartburn from pork.”

“Why the fuck is it here?!”

“You better tone that down, I saw the Dean walking around earlier you know.”

“My guess would be that the football team is going to have a greased pig competition.”

“Pigs and grease make me think of bacon, another pork product I must refrain from.”

“Well it looks like it has a mind of its own. Walking a hog that big on a harness is just asking for trouble... and there it is, it's eating that booth.”

“What the FUCK?!”

“The speed that young man can achieve is startling.”

“He had years of practice running for his life.”

“It appears that Alphonse finds this very amusing, I believe he is pointing and laughing at Edward.”

“Looks like some organization is out of its baked goods.”

“Hope the football team has deep pockets; they'll be paying for that.”

“Who is that gentleman in the... tailored sweat suit?”

“I believe he is the head of the physical education department.”

“He's the bane of Ed's existence.”

“Oh dear, that can't be good.”

“It is amazing the skills of diplomacy that Edward has learned since the days of his youth. His talent for the retention of knowledge is truly edifying.”

“The Professor's diplomacy is... unique.”

“Your highness, I didn't see you standing there.”

“Prince.”

“The next time you stop by the house, I have a delightful tea I purchased from an import shop you simply must try.”

“What do you suppose he's going to do?”

****

The Professor ran a hand through his bangs. Around him stood the members of the Chorus watching mournfully as Matilda, the football team's mascot, dined heartily on what would have been their bake sale.

“What are we going to do?” said one of the boys to the professor's right, “My mom baked those cookies all day yesterday, we don't have time to make any more.”

“My grandma made the sweet rolls,” said another boy.

The three members of the football team were putting their backs into Matilda's own prolific backside with little success.

“It's not unfixable,” the Professor said, “We'll do something, I'll think of something, it will be okay.”

Please stop looking at me like that, I'll make it better.

“But how?” said the same boy who's grandmother had bestowed sweet rolls on him to make some money for his club, “Can you bake? And there isn’t any time.”

The Professor, while being a master of many things, (and most of them rather skillfully. He was the master of a few other things that weren't quite as skillful, but since his incompetence was better than many people's best shot, he considered himself a master still) but baking wasn't one of them. He did however, know some one who could bake, and quite well at that. His eyes picked his younger brother's form out across the field.

“Give me just a bit,” he assured the crestfallen chorus members, “I have an idea.”

****

“What in the world...” Al managed as his elder brother snagged his elbow and pulled him toward the academy. “You want me to bake?”

“Not just bake, perform a miracle, you were good at it in the past,” Ed told him, pushing in through a side door, “Come on, the cafeteria is this way.”

“Brother, your obvious insanity aside, what you're wanting is impossible,” Al pleaded as Ed steered him down the hallway, “There’s no time to bake enough of anything to replace...”

“Who said you were actually going to bake?” Ed said with a somewhat manic grin, “You know how to bake, so that should be enough to... fake it.”

“No... you don't mean...”

“Baking with alchemy, come on admit it, you've always wanted to try.”

Al groaned as Ed pulled him through the cafeteria doors, behind the counters and into the kitchens. They were large and airy, with large ovens to one end, sinks lining the back walls and metal pantries lining the sides. Ed went to the pantries immediately and began throwing open doors. He moved from one to the other, pulling things out and tossing them at the large, stainless steel line of tables that dominated the center of the room.

“Flour, sugar, here's cinnamon, you can use that right?” Ed said manically, “What else goes into baked things? Eggs and butter?” He turned and strode for the large industrial refrigerator near the door where they had come in.

“Brother, how am I supposed to alchemize baked goods? What am I supposed to alchemize?!”

“What's your best recipe?”

“Well... I make a lot of muffins at home...”

“Good! Muffins it is! Icing with them maybe?” Ed carried a carton of eggs and a block of butter to the table.

“You forgot the milk,” Al said drolly, surveying the ingredients scattered over the shining metal.

“No, I didn't,” Ed said with eerie cheerfulness, “these muffins are for the lactose intolerant.”

Al rolled his eyes and then gasped as Ed ripped open a flour bag and dumped the contents unceremoniously onto the table.

“Muffins don't have icing.”

“Why not? That's boring; the best part is the icing.”

“You're thinking cupcakes.”

“Make those too...”

“This is ridiculous,” Al exploded. “They won't even be cooked!”

“Necessity is the mother of invention, alchemy started in the kitchen,” Ed yelled, breaking eggs and throwing them into the flour and tossing the shells toward the sink. “Adapt, Alphonse! By our very nature, we humans innovate and adapt! You can do this, I have faith,” he grabbed the block of butter and tossed it into the pile and then up ended the tin of cinnamon over the whole mess. “Show me the brilliance you dazzled them with, Al; make me a believer.” Al wasn't sure he liked the manic gleam in his brother's eye.

“I... this is... FINE,” Al grabbed for the block of butter, managed to smush a corner of it off and stared at a clean spot of table, after a moment he hesitantly started an array.

“Now you're getting into it, a butter array, genius!”

“It's cleaner than trying to draw with egg yolks, shut up I'm concentrating.”

Ed bounced up onto his toes, leaning across the table to look at Al's array. He opened his mouth as if to offer a suggestion, but promptly shut it at Al's glare.

“Stand back; I'm not sure what's going to happen.”

“Muffins are going to happen.”

“Says you. Get back. Okay, here goes nothing.”

“Have I ever told you how proud I am to have you as a brother?”

“Good, you can hire me a lawyer when people get sick off these muffins! Now be quiet, I can't transmute with all your yapping.”

Under lit from the light of alchemy, Al was almost sure his brother could double for Karl Borisloff, the actor who played the mad scientist in all those 'B' horror movies.

Ed cackled and held a muffin aloft, “It's perfect!” he crowed.

Al eyed the pile of transmuted bakery items more warily. “So,” Al said slowly, “gonna' try one?”

“Of course,” Ed said, “You are an excellent cook; they'll be fabulous.” He took a big bite of the 'muffin' in his hand, then promptly gagged, hacked and spit it onto the floor.

Al rubbed his forehead and shook his head. “I told you! There is no way this is going to work.”

“They look cooked, but once you get them in your mouth, they sort of disintegrate into their base ingredients,” Ed said, nose wrinkling, “But that doesn't matter, we have a finished product!” he gestured at the pile on the table.

“What are you talking about? People can't eat these!”

“Well it won't matter, will it? I mean, they won't try to eat them until after they buy them. We can just put an 'all sales final' sign on the table.”

“Brother! That is dishonest and nothing to be teaching these boys!”

“Al, this exhibition is going to come off without a hitch, do you hear me? Without a HITCH! I consider these part of the experience; they can be touted as alchemy muffins! People will buy them by the bag full! We'll have a disclaimer that we told them they were alchemy muffins... and therefore unstable. The chorus has their bake sale money and everyone is happy! HAPPY!”

“Boy, the stress has gone right to your brain.”

“It's not my brain I'm worried about, it's my reputation!”

“You really have grown up.”

“Watch it,” Ed hissed.

Al watched Ed commandeer a large metal pan from a rack above the sink and begin to pile the muffins into it. He followed Ed back out to the exhibition grounds and watched the boys of the chorus all cheer him like a war hero back from the fields of battle. Then invariably, he joined the line that stood taking notes of Ed's every move, all for different reasons.

“Did he raid the pantry in the kitchens?” the General asked.

“Um, no,” Al answered.

“Did the two of you run out to the corner market?” Alex asked. “That was very good timing, did you take a back route I'm unfamiliar with?”

“No, not that,” Al said with a smile and a nod.

“You pulled them magically out of thin air,” Otto said with a small laugh.

“You could say that,” Al said, avoiding eye contact with the General.

“I wonder what alchemized food will taste like?” said the Prince.

“I don't suggest you buy one,” Al commented. It occurred then to Al who had asked the last question and he began changing up his order in the line until he stood right beside the Prince.

“I didn't know you were going to be here, Your Highness,” he said with a smile, “I hope you won't mind if I ask you a few questions about your country’s alchemic practices; as you know, I'm very interested in your 'pharmacy' and hope to discuss it with you in length.”

The Prince looked a little nervous at the mention, his eyes darting back over the field to where Ed was transmuting the chorus booth's broken table. He smiled thinly and tilted his head.

“I think that today's activities will be very exciting, don't you agree? I have never attended an exhibition at a boy's academy; tell me what can be expected.”

“Oh,” Al said, “Well, it's just to show off to the parents, mostly. There will be a demonstration of the marching band and the chorus will sing, of course. Many of the booths will be displaying things the boys have made in class. It's probably a much more vested interest to the people who have children enrolled here. Are there any Xingian alchemists in our country?”

The prince shifted foot to foot and looked anywhere but in Alphonse's direction.

“In my country, we have exhibitions of a different nature. There would be a great, whirling dragon puppet and many kites,” he said, “Also, fireworks. Are there likely to be fireworks here?”

“Only of the alchemic variety,” Al said, “Your Highness, in what philosophy is pharmacy based? I'm not sure what equivalency would be in a medical sense.”

“I would be hard pressed to answer your questions, Alphonse. As you are well aware, like alchemy, pharmacy takes many years of intensive study.”

“But you know pharmacists,” Al pressed.

“There are pharmacists in the royal court,” the prince said uncomfortably, taking a step away.

Alphonse stepped with him. “Could you arrange a visit, perhaps? I mean, shouldn't you have a personal physician with you? I'm not trying to be pushy, I just think that in your best interest that might be advisable. Suppose something was to happen, then you would be dependant on the Amestris doctors for your care and I'm sure you would be more comfortable with one of your own countrymen in attendance.”

“It is a point well taken,” the prince agreed, watching Alphonse's brother being mobbed by his students and their parents, “I will definitely consider it.”

“You could arrange for me to meet with your physician then,” Alphonse said hopefully, “I would be extremely grateful, you understand. If there is anything I could do for you in return...”

“No thanks are necessary for a service I have yet to perform,” the prince said, half bowing in Al's direction and backing away, “I think I'll take a tour of the grounds, it seems that the festivities are underway.”

“I could be your escort,” Al said with a smile, “I can act in my brother's stead as your cultural liaison since he's otherwise occupied; it would be my honor.”

“Would it?” the prince said weakly, “I'm sure you're busy and I don't wish to be a burden to you during this celebration as well...”

“I insist,” Al said, advancing on the retreating prince, “It's the least I can do. After all, you're brother's friend; that makes us friends too.”

“You drive a very hard bargain,” the prince murmured, “how can I resist?”

“Excellent,” Al said, falling into step beside him, “The junior science club has constructed a working miniature volcano; shall that be our first stop?”

The prince merely bowed his head, gave one furtive glance toward the Professor, (who hadn't looked their way once, thus missing his royal predicament), and followed Alphonse toward a booth that smelled of sulfur.

****

The Professor sat a large cafeteria pan full of muffins on the reconstructed table. The boys and their chorus teacher, (who'd arrived just after the catastrophe and was thus spared the brunt of teenage male angst) gathered around and peered at them. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, then one of the boys reached into the pan and took out one of the muffins, sniffed it and started to open his mouth.

“Don't eat that!” Ed yelped and then smiled sheepishly, “Those are for selling. If you eat them, then you're eating your profits,” he covered smoothly. The boy eyed him and slowly put the muffin back into the pan.

“How did you make so many so fast?” Miss Dobson, the chorus teacher asked, “Were they in the cafeteria? I don't think it's right for us to take the academy’s muffins...”

“Oh no, it's alright. If need be, I can compensate the kitchen for the ingredients, but these are fresh,” Ed smiled, “Baked from scratch, my brother Alphonse's recipe.”

“I'm really indebted to you, Professor Elric,” the young woman said with a smile, “It's very kind of you to step in and help out the boys, I'm sorry I was late...”

“That's not a problem,” Ed said, starting to edge away from the table as a few parents walked up, “Good luck,” he said, rushing away. He really should have told them to get money in hand before customer put muffin in mouth. He noticed the line up standing there watching him and he started toward them, (to give them a piece of his mind for standing there gawking instead of helping), when he noticed a certain Xingian prince in the presence of a certain younger brother. That seemed the priority, so he altered his route and had almost reached the pair when Mr. Thaxton, the band director, jumped into his path.

“Professor Elric, good god man, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, grabbing Ed's arm and abruptly changing his trajectory about seventy-five degrees, “I was thinking we could line the band up around the east side of the building and they could play 'March of the Night Brigade' as they made their entrance across the field...”

“Oh, is that so?” Ed mumbled distractedly, craning his neck to see Al and Ling moving on to the next booth at the far edge of the field. It struck him as Miss Bloom came racing up to trot at his side that if he didn't do something about that, and quick, Al would probably be on a train to Xing in the morning. He tried desperately to send a telepathic message to Roy to go and break up Alphonse's little espionage, but it was too late. He found himself standing in the back field with a lot of instrument cases and a group of boys who looked hot in their tall, fuzzy hats.

“I was thinking we'd start out with a regular formation and break into something a bit more modern as we approached the field. Our baton marshal has had some excellent ideas and choreography,” Mr. Thaxton waved a tall, lanky, bespectacled boy over, who looked at Ed the way a finch looked at the inside of a cat's mouth.

“This is Hubert. Hubert, you know Professor Elric of course,” Mr. Thaxton said, slapping the boy on the arm. Ed watched him tremble like a twig in a strong breeze as the boy swallowed and nodded to Ed.

“As I was saying, we are going to start with the 'March of the Night Brigade,” Thaxton thrumped, “and when we gain the field, I'm going to let them play a little melody that Hubert here has worked up. It's jazz isn't it? Yes, jazz. We want to show the parents that while we are grounded in tradition, we aren't afraid to kick up our heels now and again.”

Ed was finally listening to the man speak, (or at least making a concerted effort to), and he was really trying to participate in the conversation, but in reality, he wondered just what it was about him that made the man think he needed to be briefed on both the band’s marching formation and play list. He grasped desperately for something logical and semi-intelligent to say as his distraction took deadly advantage and his career oriented mind fumbled around.

“I know 'March of the Night Brigade,” Ed interjected, still trying to see where his brother and that bastard prince had gotten to, (okay not technically a bastard, if he were really a bastard, he wouldn't be in line for the throne and hence, not really a prince. How did Roy know he was a prince anyway? Did they come with credentials? It struck him that any foreign scam-artist could waltz into the country, claim royal relations and have the military kissing their butts in a matter of moments. He wondered if it worked in reverse, because if it did, he had a hell of summer break trip formulating in the back of his mind...); his mouth decided to continue with his brain's direct input.

“It's one of the General's favorite songs, he likes to play it over and over when we...” and it was here his brain caught up, (thankfully, for both job and sanity), “are at his house in his living room listening to the phonograph. Heh,” he finished off.

Miss Bloom, who had been standing quietly with the men, (and had yet to be truly acknowledged with more than a nod), spoke up.

“Mr. Thaxton, Professor Elric is needed over at the gardening booth. I was sent to get him, you don't mind, do you? This seems under control,” and she latched onto Ed's arm like a floral scented leech and began to tug him away, “I look forward to hearing the band play,” she called cheerfully, sounding like a lioness that had bagged a successful kill. She smiled at Ed and tightened her grip.

Ed tried in vain to spot Ling and Al as he was jogged over the back field and through the parking lot, back to where the majority of the exhibit booths were displayed.

“What could the gardening club possibly want with me,” he asked, double timing in a way to make the most staunch war veteran shed a tear of joyful remembrance, “I'm not even sure why Thaxon wanted me, usually the staff doesn't bother to give me the time of day and only the occasional hostile glare when I'm late for a meeting.”

“Oh Professor,” Miss Bloom simpered, “You're so funny. You know everyone admires you! The youngest Professor on staff, internationally famous, plus you have the ear of some very high ranking military personnel... what's not to love?” she smiled her brightest and most vivid 'single and mid 20's on the prowl' smile and tightened her grip again. Ed could almost feel his automail fingers going numb, and that was quite surprising considering he'd never felt them before.

****

“Let's wander about,” Otto said cheerfully, “There’s so much to see and so much to see, if you know what I mean,” he laughed pleasantly. Roy half grinned and nodded his head, indicating for Otto to lead the way. Alex tagged along behind them, intimidating anyone who got near enough to be interesting.

“You know, I've always been fascinated by these events,” Otto said to the General walking at his side, arms clasped behind his back, “It really harkens back to all those family values everyone is gun-ho about,” Otto was carrying a cane, at first Roy thought it a bit pretentious; but then who was he to judge as he was wearing (at Ed's request), his dress uniform.

“If only they were made to attend more of these functions,” Otto continued, “I am sure they'd understand just what they were doing with all those pamphlets and educational seminars.”

They neared the booth that Ed had bestowed with muffins earlier and looked at the huddle of boys, standing behind the booth, staring with some trepidation at the muffins piled in their shiny, metal corral. They turned pleading eyes on the adults as they neared and snapped off a salute, (as they'd been taught), more to Roy's uniform than the man, before they clustered back together in mournful camaraderie.

“How is it going boys?” Roy said pleasantly, (never one to deny he adored being saluted, even if it was more to blue fabric than to his lofty achievements. Truth be told, he hadn't done anything lofty in quite a while and this band of boys would only acknowledge him as their dad's 'boss' before anything else. That irked him, it really irked him. Well, after today, if everyone survived, they'd know the name Flame Alchemist once more.) “Are the muffins selling well?”

“Well sir,” one of the boys said after a moment of horrified silence, “they don't seem to be doing too well.”

“They taste bad,” whispered another boy.

“And if you stare at them long enough, they look like they’re breathing,” confided a third.

“I'm sure they aren't that bad,” Roy said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few cens, “Let me try one.”

The boys surged forward as one, eyes on the money in the General's hand, but then it seemed as if some military loyalty broke them before they reached for it. They looked at the General mournfully.

“We really advise against it, sir,” the boy with the 'breathing muffin' comment said slowly, “We'd rather not be sent to the brink or get KP duty.”

Roy chuckled and looked at Otto who smiled back, tapping his cane on the ground.

“As if I'd hold Professor Elric's baking skills against you,” the General said kindly, putting the cens on the table and selecting a muffin from the tray. He smiled reassuringly at the boys, but their eyes had grown wide in horror and they seemed to hold their breath as the General brought the muffin to his lips.

It had been a long time, quite a long time, since the General had cried in public, and he tried in vain to make it an even longer time. He couldn't quite smile because it felt as if his mouth had been sealed by a flour based cement and he thought, but was not quite certain, there was a raw egg playing a game of tag with his tonsils.

Alex laid a few cens on the table and reached for the pan, but the same military loyalty the boys had shown extended even to ex-military in the General's book. He grabbed Alex's arm and shook his head slowly before reaching into his back pocket, producing his wallet and peeling off several larger bills. He sat them on the table, picked up the pan of muffins and turned away while the boys all gasped collectively behind him. Otto, grinning, fell right into step beside him as he hurried away from the table.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Otto cooed, “Here you are saving your lover's ass. Why, I think I might find faith in romance again.”


****

“I've been conducting many experiments in tissue regeneration,” Al was saying as he hurried after the prince. It struck him a bit odd that the prince was in such a hurry to examine a booth that was hosting an exhibit having to do with manure as fertilizer.

“Aromatics in lieu of vegetation?” the Prince called over his shoulder, “You Amestrisians have some funny ideas,” he said gleefully.

“No,” Al said practically running to keep up. He seriously began to wonder about the prince's hearing; it seemed that everything he said, the prince misinterpreted in the most unusual ways. He did seem to have a full grip on the Amestrisian language...

“Your Highness,” Al panted, “maybe we could visit that gardening booth? They are serving tea and actually have some tables; I could use a bit of a breather.”

The prince actually stopped and turned to him with a grin entrenched on his face as he made to pat Al's shoulder.

“With all the tea I am forced to drink daily for both my health and politeness, I find that given the opportunity not to drink it, is something I've come to relish. But far be it from me to deprive you of a cup; you certainly seem like you could use it. I will go ahead alone, painful though the thought of losing your company is, and perhaps after you've had your cup, we can find each other again.”

“Oh no,” Al said with a smile and a wave of his hand, “I'd much rather stay with you, especially since brother isn't here to do his duty. Not to say he's being negligent, but he's a bit tied up at the moment, making things run smoothly, I’m sure, and really, we've yet to discuss any pharmacy or alchemist in your coun...”

“What manner of contraption is that?” the prince interrupted loudly and sprinted away. Al stood for a moment in slack jawed amazement before rushing after him.

“Surely you have trucks in Xing,” Al called, trying to catch up.

****

Ed wasn't sure what to do with the potted pansy the gardening club had bestowed upon him, (in an inscribed flowerpot, no less) and cast about desperately for a familiar face that had long left behind the heartbreak of acne. There were so many blue uniforms about, picking out the General was next to hopeless and Otto wasn't much taller than Ed himself. Alex should be sticking out like a beacon of General finding ease, but Ed wouldn’t admit, (firstly and mostly to himself), that he wasn't quite tall enough to see over the heads of the crowds around him.

He was considering uncoupling his automail arm to dislodge Miss Bloom when a familiar and lanky foreign looking man crossed his path in quite a hurry. Ed, not given to being glad to see the royal nuisance, (never, not for a moment, not for a second or a millisecond), found himself calling out beseechingly.

“Prince Ling!” he yelled and turned to Miss Bloom, trying to muster an apologetic smile but failing miserably. “You'll excuse me, but cultural liaison duty calls,” he said, never being happier to spew that sewage of a title from his mouth. She frowned in disappointment but pried her claws from the steel of his right arm and Ed dashed away before she could somehow graft herself to his hip or other extraneous body part.

The prince slowed down enough to jog in place and grab Ed's arm as he hurried over, but then they were off.

“Save me from your brother,” the prince cried, “He's a persistent one and very charming to be sure. He really favors you I think, and that has been a bit tempting, but still, a promise is a promise.”

“If you so much as let your lips think about my brother, I'll personally skin you, tan you, make a football out of you and kick your ass all the way back to Xing,” Ed returned loudly as they plowed through the crowd, “But since you just saved me from the walking desperation that is an unmarried woman in a crowd of elderly bachelors, I'll do my best!”

“Jealous?” the prince said with hopeful glee as they ducked around a knot of uniforms both military blue and academy cadet grey, and headed straight for the open side door of the main academy building itself.

“No, you slit-eyed, moronic, monarch wannabe and I never will be,” Ed howled as he was yanked through the door to stand in the dim coolness of the academy hallway, clutching a potted pansy and panting.

“I like your daisy,” the prince said, the gleam off his grin brightening the gloom.

“It's a pansy, idiot,” Ed snarled and yanked his arm free of Ling's grip. He risked a quick glance out the door, but Al was nowhere to be seen. “It looks like you ditched him... you didn't tell him anything did you?” Ed demanded.

“I told him about the desert and how dry it was, and I told him about dumplings and how no one here makes them the way they make them at home. I told him about my dislike of peaches, but I don't think he was impressed. I also told him about a pharmacy technique that involves human limb regeneration,” then the prince put his hands behind his back, smiling… and waiting.

“Peaches are only good in cobbler,” Ed said nodding, still looking toward the door. Then he stiffened all over for just a moment and turned his head so fast the ends of his ponytail, had they connected with flesh, would have had the effect of hundreds of tiny razor blades. “You told him WHAT!?” The prince threw up his hands and laughed.

“Joking,” he said hurriedly, “just to see if you were paying attention. I told him nothing, not for his lack of trying. Really Professor, from what I gather, he is running some impressive experiments. I don't see the harm...”

“I do, I see plenty of harm! You don't know anything about it,” Ed said heatedly, “Just drop it, I don't feel like discussing it,” his voice turned sulky, “Shit, where the hell is the General anyway?” he sneered at the pansy in his hands.

“He was in the company of Otto and that very large man from your brother's birthday gathering,” the prince supplied, “They seemed to be getting along well. I think they were touring the exhibits.”

Ed leaned back against the wall and turned his head to regard the prince.

“You didn't have to come here, you know,” he started, “It's not exactly an event teaming in any sort of helpful cultural reference.”

“I wanted to come,” the prince said simply.

“Don't,” Ed suddenly said, “Don't tell me something that I don't need to be hearing from you. You know it hasn't slipped past me that every time you're around you find some way to get me alone. Keep your lips over there, I'm telling you this has to stop. I can't help you find what you're looking for, it's a fairy tale. Trust me when I say you're better off having nothing to do with it. Be happy with what you have, you're a prince for Pete’s sake.”

The prince smiled enigmatically and his lips parted, but out of them came the beginning and almost, but not quite off-key, opening strands of 'March of the Night Brigade'. Ed's eyes widened in astonishment even as he jumped and the Prince winced hard, gritting his teeth as if to keep the horrendous sound inside. Through the doorway began falling a pattern of shadows, once after the other and the music rose and dipped in time to their passing. The prince then quirked up the side of his mouth and took two steps to bring him to Ed's side. He leaned down toward Ed's ear as if to say something and Ed tilted it up accommodating.

His breath hitched as the prince's lips traced over it and he swallowed once before jerking away. He edged down the wall and waited for a break in the formation that he could get through.

His ear was burning, but he knew it wasn't from any idol gossip about his person being said.

****

“This IS interesting,” Otto said, cane tucked under his arm and fingers to his chin. “It seems uninterested; I heard they'd eat anything, including you and me given half a chance.”

Roy had said nothing for the past half hour as his mouth was still raw from the scrubbing it had received in the bathroom. They both watched Matilda the hog nose the cafeteria pan, pushing it back and forth with her snout. Of the muffins in the pan, she'd not taken a single one.

“There has to be some marketable factor to this,” Otto mused, “I'm almost tempted to deconstruct one and see what makes them tick, but I feel the very fabric of the universe might be threatened. You brave fellow, I think using that scrub brush from the janitorial closet was a bit extreme, who knows where it has been.” Otto gave the General's shoulder a solemn pat.

The General gave him a wane smile, glanced over his shoulder and the smile suddenly widened. The Professor came barreling up to them and shoved a potted plant in his face, panting slightly and looking a bit flushed. The General's lover has shoved flowers up his nose before, so to save face, (literally), he took the pot before the flowers petals got dangerously close to his nasal passages.

“Professor,” Otto said cheerfully, “Aren't you a sight! Having a good time? Your exhibition seems to be going very well. Look, we've made an experiment with your baked goods. Not even fit for swine, are the findings so far, and I heard tale that they move on their own?”

“This was Al's excursion into alchemic edibles, I only badgered him to do it,” Ed said, smiling weakly and avoiding Roy's eyes.

“BROTHER,” sounded behind them and they turned at once with precision enough to make the synchronized swim team jealous, (who, coincidentally, did not have a display at the exhibition).

“Have you seen the Prince?” Al said, trotting up to them, “We were walking through the exhibits and got separated. I'm a bit worried because I haven't seen him since; he’s not supposed to wander around alone, is he?”

Ed sputtered.

“And why the hell not? What is he... four? No, I haven't seen him,” Ed averted his eyes again, “And I'm damn glad of it, to tell you the truth. Look Al, not even the hog will eat your muffins.”

“I told you that was a bad idea,” Al snorted, “I bet they taste like cement.”

The General cleared his throat loudly and they all looked at him. Otto smiled, but hid it quickly with his hand. As they stood there, some of the burlier boys from the football team, (one of them would make two and a half of Ed. The helpful individual who pointed this out had nightmares of a blond wolverine with fangs for the next two weeks), came over with a large metal can and gave the group admiring their mascot a salute.

Roy bowed his head slightly, for he was the only uniform among them and lapping up the attention like a cat took to cream. They sat the large can down next to Matilda who turned to push on it with her snout. They checked her harness and then one of them opened the can and took out a large double handful of what looked like axel grease. The crowd began to press around them then and everyone shuffled about, Ed finding himself backed up to the General. He felt the brief touch of fingers along his spine and then the sick twist of guilt in his stomach.

They watched the proceedings as Matilda went from a healthy shade of fat pig pink, to a dank and grayish color that smelled like the underside of a large truck with a bad muffler. Then one of the boys doffed his shirt and stuck out his chest and the others began to shoo back the crowd. Matilda was still forlornly nosing at the muffin pan, hoping against hope that they would suddenly turn into something edible as the crowd formed a large circle around her and her apparent captor. Her harness was then removed, but she made no move to avoid the young man as he charged up and tried to grab her around her fourteen chins. She grunted a bit in annoyance when he did so, however.

The longer they stood there and watched the young man try to wrestle a hog that outweighed him by at least one hundred pounds, the more pointless it seemed to become. Ed crossed his arms and looked at Al who shrugged and stuck his hands in his back pockets.

“It's reminds me of interpretive dance,” Otto said sidelong to Roy, “All that skin and neither of them getting anywhere.”

The General grinned, looking off to the side and Ed and Al snickered at each other. Matilda, who must have thought the snickers were directed at her grease covered self, took sudden and great offense. With an incredible display of fat control, she rolled the rings at her neck all the way down her back, dislodging her lone and ineffective subduer, then fixed her beady, black eyes in the direction of the amused menaces and gave a mighty snort. That got everyone's attention and with a speed belaying her size, (bordering on physically impossible if the truth be told, but then again, bumblebees were in the same league), she charged across the clearing in a most predictable fashion.

In the Elric corner, it became every man for himself.

For the first time in his life, Al found he rather wanted his big brother's protection, and in the same moment of revelation, Ed decided that Al was old enough, (finally), to face certain crisis on his own. After all, how else was he going to learn how to handle himself under pressure if his elder brother always bailed him out? In their haste to abandon each other to a thousand pounds of unprocessed sausage, they collided, thus making Matilda's target bigger. As Ed and Al toppled over for a proper trampling and all seemed lost, there was a sudden pop, a flash of light and the familiar (to an alchemist, anyway) smell of ozone. A wall of dirt shot straight up from the ground, missing Ed's nose by bare inches and there was the sudden, dull thud of impact that rained the dirt down over Ed's and Al's heads.

Al, of course, thought that once again, his big brother had come through with an unexpected display of alchemic fortitude and Ed, on his part, thought Al's array drawing skills had reached demi-god levels of speed. The grinned at each other, (Ed had managed to end up on top of the Elric pile), and opened their mouths to congratulate the other when above their heads, Alex's voice boomed.

“Well done young man, very well done. I can see your Professor has taught you not to panic in a crisis; you have mastered basic array techniques. I think both his teaching mastery and your quick learning abilities are to be congratulated for averting what could have been an otherwise painful experience.”

There was a round of cheers and applause, and in the commotion, Ed pushed up and got to his feet, reaching a hand down to Al distractedly to help him up as well. Alex was effectively obscuring any view of he and Al's rescuer and behind him, he heard the placating moans of several members of the football team as they tried to revive their hog. Alex turned toward them then and as he did so, Ed's eyebrows rose. Seth, Daniel, Eric and Duffy were beaming up at the large man; on the ground at Seth's feet was a small piece of paper. Ed brushed himself down, swallowed his embarrassment and headed over to the quartet that had made his academic life so interesting. They saw him coming, each breaking out into a large grin.

“Professor,” Seth said as Ed approached, “I'm glad you're alright!”

“I thought you were a goner,” Duffy added, tugging the hem of his uniform jacket down.

“Did you have some childhood trauma involving pigs?” Eric asked, “Despite what Richard said, I don't think you scream like a girl.”

“I think that hog was about to show you the error in the food chain,” Daniel snickered, gleam in his eye, “It must have an iron deficiency in its diet.”

Ed knelt down and picked up the piece of paper. On it was Al's array, the one he'd taught the boys when they'd transmuted the toy horse. The paper was well creased from having been folded and grimy from riding around in a trouser pocket. Ed straightened back up and folded the array.

“Who's is this?” he asked, holding the square aloft and eyeing them each in turn, “Care to explain why you're wandering around with an array in your pocket?”

Four sets of lips clamped firmly shut and four sets of hands found their way clasped behind backs or shoved in pockets.

“Really Brother,” said Al beside him and reached over to pluck the paper from his fingers, “This isn't a time for a lecture, it's a time to say thank you,” He turned to the boys, “You'll have to forgive my older brother,” he smiled, “He's used to taking care of things, you see, and that would include the four of you. He's only acting this way because he thinks of the mischief you could get into carrying around a ready array, but believe me, despite appearances, he's very grateful. As am I, thank you very much for saving me from being a hog's doormat.”

Ed cleared his throat, worked his jaw and looked once more at the four sets of eyes trained on his face anxiously. He waved his hand and looked off to the side.

“Yes, good job, whoever did it. You make me realize I'm not wasting my time badgering you to do your homework,” he conceded.

The light of hero worship lit four sets of eyes and they all shuffled and looked pleased with themselves, elbowing each other in pre-teen embarrassment at the praise, (they'd been the Professor's students long enough to know his brand of praise when they heard it. It wasn't handed out often and was only won with hard work, so it was something to be pleased about).

“I think this deserves some kind of reward,” Al pitched in, “Isn't there a booth selling funnel cakes?” He gave his own brother the manly elbow, (while not meaning quite the same things as the pre-teen elbow, the context was similar), and Ed gaped at him, trying very hard not to look at the four boys who suddenly clustered closer to him. One tentative tug at his sleeve was all it took, and Al folded his hands, grinning at his brother's back as he trudged off, herded by his students. Several other boys joined them as they walked across the field, making Ed the center of the pack. He wouldn't have been very pleased to hear Alphonse snicker aside to the General, “You can hardly tell which one is Ed.”

****

Al brushed at his butt and decided he'd have one more go at finding the Xingian prince.

“Hey Al,” a voice called, “there you are, we've been looking all over for you guys! This place is a crush!”

Al looked up and grinned. Sarah came wading through the crowd dragging Havoc by the arm. Behind them was Fuery, holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about seven or eight. Sarah released Havoc when she got close enough in favor of throwing her arms around Al's neck for a hug. Al grinned, patted her back and reached to shake Havoc's hand.

“Whenever we want to find you or Ed, we just look for the generalized disturbance,” Havoc grinned.

Sarah released Al as Fuery approached and Al gripped his hand as well for a shake.

“Hey Al, it's been a while. East City must be agreeing with you,” he smiled, “This is my nephew, John. John this is Mr. Alphonse Elric, say hello.”

The boy clutched Cain's hand tightly, gave Al a wavy smile, a near inaudible hello and seemed to restrain himself mightily from jumping behind his uncle to hide.

“He's a little shy,” Cain said, “sorry about that.”

“No need, I remember being a little shy myself at times,” Al grinned, “Hello John, I'm glad you could come, I hope you are having a good time.”

“Where's Ed?” Havoc asked, fishing around in his uniform jacket pocket as Sarah watched him with an amused look on her face. He kept looking around and kept fishing even though he was coming up empty handed.

“Funnel cake run,” Al supplied, “He took about twenty of his students with him, he'll be awhile. They are holding some exhibitions on the parade field and you missed the marching bands entrance.”

“When are you and Ed going to perform?” Fuery asked, “Is there time for us to take a look at the booths?”

Al glanced at his watch and nodded. “You've got about an hour and a half, plenty of time to wander the exhibits.”

“Colonel,” Havoc suddenly said, delightedly, “No one told us you were coming!”

“That's because I didn't know if my schedule would clear up in time,” said a voice behind Al, slightly to his left. The very air around him suddenly seemed thin and scarce, and from the corner of his eye he saw a figure, though not clearly. She stepped up further into his side field of vision and he reined himself in mightily to keep from whirling on the woman.

“Too bad Vato couldn't make it,” Fuery said, “or Breda... not that he even thought about coming for a second... but still, it would have been great, like a real reunion.”

Al let himself turn to her then, take in her profile and long to lean closer to take in her scent as well. She turned her head to look at him then and smiled.

“Alphonse,” she said, “I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure I could come, but as it so happened, some of my time freed up. I'm glad I made it in time to see your display.”

She was here and real and not some delusion of his one-sided, obsessed crush. He should speak to her, yes, that would be good, since he'd determined she wasn't a mirage of his longing, fevered mind.

“You came to see me?” Al said, voice squeaking off at the end. That is not what he meant to say, or how he meant to say it. The ground could do him a massive favor by opening its maw wide and swallowing him whole.

“I thought it was important to lend my support if only by my presence,” she said, “I think this is a very worthy cause, something that you and your brother excel at; besides, the book reading is a bit pointless if I have no one to discuss it with afterwards.”

I love you.

“Can I show you around?” Al said, immediately lifting his elbow, boggling that he was so presumptuous as to lift it. Can I be with you for the rest of my life?

She smiled at him, a genuine, open smile and lifted her hand without hesitation to curl her fingers into the crook of his elbow.

“I'm sorry about the uniform, but I thought it would be appropriate,” she continued, “I hope you don't mind.”

Mind? Why would I mind? You... care what I think?

“Of course, it's a military academy after all,” he replied.

“What exhibits do you recommend?” she asked. She was the only person there, the only one he needed to give his attention to. He turned, took a step and his heart skipped a beat as she followed.

“I'll take you anywhere,” he breathed, sounding out of context.

You should tell her.

“There so much I want to tell you, I'm so glad you're here.”

The fingers in the crook of his elbow tightened.

****

“Is what I think happening actually happening?” Havoc said, watching the pair walk off. Sarah gave him a half smile and shook her head while Fuery reached up to adjust his glasses.

“It needs to happen, one way or another,” the General cut in, finally finding his voice, “They are both running in place so frantically, someone has to give. If not soon, Alphonse may combust, or their combined formality will have them still orbiting each other until they are old and gray.”

“Who is that woman?” a new voice broke in; the General didn't bother to turn to look at the prince.

“Colonel Hawkeye,” Havoc replied, “Good to see you, Your Highness.”

“Oh good, you’re here,” Sarah exclaimed, “Solider boy, get out the camera,” she cried, releasing Havoc's arm and attacking Ling's, “I need a picture to send the folks so they have something to brag about at the next Sunday social. That way, the 'when are you gonna get married' thing might go away.”

“Or could backfire,” the General said, “into ‘When are you marrying the prince?’ Quite frankly, I wouldn't want to be seen with him.”

The General and the Prince shared a smile between them that the rest of the group quirked an eyebrow over.

“You are such a darling thing,” said Otto, standing at the outer ring of the group. “I think it's a very clever idea. Ling, I would like a picture with you as well, just to have something to brag about.”

The Prince smile enigmatically and tightened his arm to his side, trapping Sarah's hand there. Havoc snorted, suddenly thrust the camera at Fuery and marched over to Sarah's side.

“This is what you brag about,” he told her in a fit of pique.

“Okay, you can be in the picture too,” Sarah said, snuggling up to Ling's side with a teasing smile, “You want my folks to think you wanna married the prince too?”

Ling wiggled his eyebrows at Havoc and his smile grew a bit wider. It was not quite a smile that was what could be considered friendly, but more like speculative. The type of smile that a spider might give to a fly while trying to decide it its blood type would be to its liking, but knowing all along it was going to eat the fly anyway.

“Oh look,” Otto said, pointing, “Is Edward signing autographs?”

They all turned to look in unison. Ed was still in the middle of a knot of boys, but now his shirt sleeve was rolled up to expose his automail arm. He was writing something furiously and every time he handed one book off, another was thrust into his hands.

“Sucks to be famous, huh?” said Sarah with a laugh. “And it's so weird because he doesn't act like he's famous at all.”

“HA!” Havoc said, “You didn't know the boss back in the day.”

“He made famous a career,” said Fuery.

“I think he got accused of graft so much, it was frightening,” Havoc said, “I know the boss would never do something like that, but people used to fall all over him.”

“It's because he's so little and cute,” Sarah grinned wickedly, “You just want to cuddle him.”

They all edged away from her then, even the prince tried to lean away.

“Baby,” Havoc said, eyes wide, “Don't make yourself ground zero like that,” he waved his hands up and down, “I don't wanna be a widower before I'm even married.”

“Oh come on,” Sarah said, “he's way over there, he can't hear us.”

But when they looked to check, Ed was staring right at them.

****

“I can't believe you're here, not to say I'm not happy you are. I am, I mean it will mean a lot to Ed that you thought to come all this way.”

“What is it you wanted to tell me? You said you had a lot to tell me.”

“Yes, right, I do. Ah... it's hard. You'll hear me out, won't you?”

She inclined her head and they kept walking. It was an unhurried, leisurely pace and he could almost imagine that they were out on a Sunday stroll, having woken up early and had coffee out on the porch. They might have gone to brunch or maybe they were going to the park.

“You've gotten very tall,” she offered when the silence stretched longer than it should have, “Even since I last saw you I think,” she said it almost with a sense of wonder, “It's so strange that it's come to be like this. I never imagined something like this, but now that the thought has come, I find I can't quite shake it.”

“I think, for a long time, it's been like this for me. But it wasn't what could be now... back then, does that make sense?” He looked at her sidelong.

“It will take some getting used to, there are certain things I still associate with you. It can't be helped, because it has been that way for a long time.”

“What can I do to change it? I mean, is there something I can be doing differently that will make it more... feasible? More comfortable?”

“No, because to change for only that reason is not enough and it wouldn't be you then, would it? If it happens, it happens.”

“...so, it could happen?”

“I'm here, aren't I? You have been making overtures; neither of us are suited to this sort of thing it seems, but when you weren't there, I started thinking about you and then I couldn't stop. It seems funny, doesn't it? I'm sure no one ever thought, least of all myself, of such a thing occurring, but it's not a bad thing, just unexpected.”

He stopped. They were near the far end of the field, away from the crowd a bit.

You should tell her.

“What about Talbert?” He asked finally, appalled at himself and dying to know anyway.

“Who? Oh, Talbert,” she said, confused by the abrupt change of subject, “Did you think... Talbert is a business acquaintance. Since I will be working closely with him, I thought I should get to know him a bit better. I find it easier to get to know someone away from the office.” Her fingers squeezed his inner elbow again.

“I love you. Don't say anything yet, please just wait and let me tell you what I mean. I mean I love you, but I mean, I have to tell you about why I do and the reasons why I'm not a child anymore and you should listen to me and let me tell you why it might be a good idea for this to be between us. Okay? Please just hear me out and let me tell you before I explode. I really feel like I'm going to explode, do you ever feel like that? No, of course not, that's just me. But please, before you shoot me down, just let me make my case. I mean, not shoot me literally because I know you'd never do that no matter what the General has ever told me, and I didn't believe a word of it, but you know what I mean. What do I mean? I think I want to run and hide from you right now, but I can't, I won't! Because I'm not as young as I look, you know how old I am, I feel like I'm pleading for my life, I am pleading for my life. Please don't hold this against me. I'm sorry to sound so insane,” he babbled.

“Alphonse,” she started, “I don't think you sound insane, I know that I'm...”

“Wait, wait,” he pleaded desperately, “I thought I should tell you, because as you said, neither of us are suited to this. We've always been very straight forward in everything. I'm supposed to be good at all these things; I'm supposed to be a genius, but this is important and I feel like I'm ten. I don't understand it, but I want to understand it. I want to learn. I want to learn with you and from you. I love you. You were always there for me; I could always count on you. It was circumstance or fate, it just was, and that's how it is supposed to be. I believe that in my heart, I truly do. Everything happens for a reason and not always a good one, but this is a good one, this is a good reason.

“You know about me, about my brother. You know of our sins and I'm open to you. Everything I am, you've seen twice over; there is nothing inside me that you haven't touched. It's so rare... don't you see? That's how it is for brother, the General, he knows him. He knows what it's like, deep down inside, to feel the way Ed feels. That is how I feel about you.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or push something on you that you'd rather not have, but I had to tell you. It was the only thing to do. I spent the first part of my life chasing after something I wanted more than anything in the world. I don't want to chase things I want anymore. I'm tired of running.”

“You don't have to run anymore,” she said then. “I understand what you are saying, and I want...”

“This isn't all about me, it's about you too. I know that and whatever it is you want, I want that too. I want to make it happen for you, I will do everything to make it happen for you, but please, just let me try! Whatever happens I can live with it, I promise, so I don't want you to feel like you have to...”

But he never finished.

Because she kissed him.

****

He whirled around and tried desperately to disappear back into the crowd, but the crowd, out of respect for his own growled wishes, had dissipated. Using his brother and the Colonel as an excuse to escape seemed like a good idea and to make the lie work, he'd dashed after them through the crowd, but now, oh now, they couldn't see him! This was private, this was beyond private.

They were kissing!

If Al caught him, he was dead! (not that Ed actually considered the one kiss Riza had actually bestowed on his brother to be kissing, that was more like just a kiss. Kissing involved groping and tongue battling and a lot more privacy than they actually had at the moment, not that he was actually giving them any! The bastard, he could kiss, he really had it down. He started hard to realize he wasn't sure which bastard that was currently on his kiss register he meant).

Al was leaning back now, his lips were parted and he was wearing a blush so potent, eggs could be fried on each cheek. Ed dove headlong for the nearest booth and ducked under the table. Everyone jumped back and he hissed, grabbing for the nearest cadet colored pant leg, causing the boy to yelp.

“SHHHHH,” Ed stage whispered, “If you all run from the table, that’ll look suspicious and I'm trying to hide here, act natural!”

The boy wet his lips, nodded and stood stiffly behind the table as Ed slowly released his pant leg.

“Look over there, do you see a guy with brown hair and a Colonel in a blue uniform?” he asked the boy.

“No,” the boy whimpered.

“No, over there, to your left, look to your left,” Ed growled.

“I see a Colonel in a blue uniform,” the boy said. “And there are a lot of guys around too.”

“No, look for the guy kissing the Colonel, maybe they aren't kissing anymore, he has on a green shirt and a pair of tweed pants. He's... taller than you, do you see him?”

“I don't want to see a guy kissing the Colonel,” the boy whined. “And why would he want to? He has a big mustache and it looks like there is food caught in it.”

“NO… for the love of... it's a girl Colonel, a blonde! MOVE,” Ed pushed the boy's legs aside and peered over the edge of the table.

Of course he was instantly spotted.

“Brother!” cried Al, pointing at him. “What are you doing?!”

“Nothing!” Ed shrieked. “I wasn't spying or anything! I was minding my own business and I had nothing to do with it, I didn't see anything!”

“What are you talking about?” Al waved his arms. “You're going to be late for your own demonstration!”

****

They made the tent set up on the edge of the parade grounds just in time to hear the dean begin to speak over the loud speaker system. Ed stood in the tent, half bent over, hands on knees panting. He straightened up and looked at the assembled crowd.

“Okay, I'm up first, then Al. After that, we turn on the hoses for the fountain Al is going to make. That brings up Otto and Roy,” Ed couldn't help the grin that spread over his face at his lover's name in connection with an alchemy demonstration. “Then Alex, you're the clean up.”

“We've only gone over this a million times,” the General grinned.

“I know, but I'm nervous, okay?” Ed snapped, his eyes settling on Ling. His stomach twisted a bit and he snarled, “What are you doing in here?”

“Everyone else was in here,” the prince shrugged.

“Everyone else isn't in here,” Ed countered. “I don't see the Colonel or Havoc or the rest of the masses.”

“That was figurative, brother,” Al said behind him.

“I know that,” Ed said, taking his turn to wave his arms, “I just mean... nevermind, did he just say my name?”

Everyone turned to listen to the voice over the loud speaker and Miss Bloom poked her head into the tent.

“Professor, there you are,” she said with a smile, “You better come on, the dean is starting the introduction. We're all so excited to see your display.”

Ed tried to edge around the woman, but it was no use. She clung to his arm like lint to fabric and he got yanked out of the tent before he could cast a proper 'save me' look at the General.

****

He'd had this feeling once, long ago in a restaurant, in an eastern city. He had been there with a Colonel and somehow, even though he had never been sensitive to attention before, he could feel every eye on him. It was the same now. The bleachers around the parade grounds were overflowing. The turn out for the event had become much larger than anticipated. He rubbed his palms on his pants leg, (he rubbed them both even though one only sweated; it felt like the other one was sweating too), and stood near the base of the podium as the dean made the introductions. He and Al had spent a few nights coming up with his demonstration. He was going to create a 'Rube Goldberg', an insanely intricate device used for a simple function, in this case, cracking an egg. It struck him as he went over the details in his brain once again... that he didn't have an egg. He waved to Miss Bloom frantically, whispered in her ear feverishly and watched her dash off pensively. He glanced up as he heard his name come over the loud speaker once again and his eyes widened as the roar of the crowd drowned out anything else the dean might have wanted to say.

****

He was 'The Alchemist of the People'. It was a title the people had given him and the only title he'd worked hard to be worthy of. It was also the only title he was proud of. Then there were the eyes again, all over him. He tugged at his right shirt sleeve, swallowed and stepped forward, raising his hand a little. The second wave of calls from the crowd were every bit as deafening at the first and he winced a little. He took a few deep breaths and looked around, at the very end of the parade grounds where several large mounds of dirt that has been placed there for he and his brother to draw upon. His ‘palms’ were sweaty again, but rubbing them on his pants in front of an audience was not an option. Where the hell was his egg?

He pictured the construct in his mind one more time, running over the fine details and quickly making fine tuning adjustments to the array he was picturing. When he clapped his hands, he completed the circle; the circle allowed the flow of alchemy to make its way through is body. When he knelt to place his hands on the ground, the alchemic reaction grounded and projected itself into an array that was usually not visible to the naked eye. With the array in place and his will determined, he could force reactions from the elements around him by transmuting. When he transmuted, he could exchange one element for another, if the appropriate compounds where available. It wasn't something for nothing, it wasn't magic, it was the nebulous of his entire existence; and sometimes, at night, he wished he'd never met such a merciless master.

****
Blue and white, it whipped down the parade grounds, rushing past the bleachers. Immediately, one of the huge mounds of dirt began to sink into the ground and in the same instance, a spike suddenly erupted in front of the bleachers. The crowd gasped in delight, breaking into applause as the spike doubled back on itself and crashed earthward. With the flashy part of the demonstration over, it was time to get to work.

The device was simple, but it was being constructed on a grand scale. The first part was a large, old fashioned crank cash register. Ed had studied many pictures of the devices and their inner workings, and the register formed with its simple gears, raised up on a platform of dirt. Ed formed a large ball that sat against the drawer of the register and a ramp that sloped down from it, towards a funnel, which would drop the ball onto another ramp. Attached to the ball was a 'string' and as it reached the end of the ramp, the string would pull and a large toy car would be released (Ed made the car look like the General's state loaned car that he was rather familiar with) down yet another ramp. This trip would result in yet another ball being pushed into another funnel, (when they'd thought this up, it seemed that a lot of ramps and funnels would be fine, but now in practice, it seemed redundant. If Ed ever did this again, there would be less balls and less funnels), this ball would land on and set off a huge mousetrap.

The mousetrap would pull a large 'nail' from a pole that would allow an attached weight to drop. The weight, in turn, would pull a cork from a tube, which would, in turn, deliver the ball into a cup, which would be perched on a scale. The scale would tilt and raise a wire to... yes, release a ball to run down a ramp, (this seemed so much more creative in theory). This ball would drop into a basket, which would lower and hopefully hit a lever on the back of a replica of a toy axe man, causing his axe to fall with just enough precision and force... to crack a single egg.

As stated before, it had all worked in theory.

He was out of practice and the detail and dimension of the grand scale contraption was taking its toll; he had started to pant near the end of it. From the response of the crowd, just the construction of the contraption might have been enough, but then there was Al, hurrying out to his brother and carrying a small bowl.

“Here's the egg. It’s not really an egg,” he whispered. “It only looks like an egg because well, we used all the eggs in the cafeteria. So I transmuted an egg shaped something and BROTHER she kissed me!”

“The egg kissed you?” said Ed staring into the bowl at the small, oval-ish, egg-shaped something or another Al had transmuted.

There comes a time in every man's life when he questions his very existence. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? Alphonse Elric was pretty certain he'd answered all these questions at a very early age, (twice over, even), and there should be no really big surprises left in life. Oh there would be surprises, but not the philosophical kind. Even with this in mind, there was one question that at certain times in his life, Alphonse Elric would always ask himself, and that question was: Is Edward Elric really my brother?

“The chicken kissed me and got so excited she laid an egg,” Al said, “all that about transmuting it? That was a lie.”

“You kissed the 4-H boy's chicken?” Ed wrinkled his nose, “I didn't need an egg that badly. You better go boil your lips.”

“What do you think the crowd would do if I were to shove this up your nose?” Al asked causally.

Ed snorted, reached in the bowl, grabbed the egg and ran to the end of the contraption, balancing it precariously on the small pedestal transmuted there for the very purpose.

“Now, we get someone to crank the crank,” Ed said and rubbed his hands together in a pretty descent imitation of a demented scientist about to pull the lever that would grant him world domination.

“Why don't you have one of your boys do it?” Al said. “That would make one of them really happy.”

“And the rest completely miserable. I'd hear about it all next week. Oh, Professor Elric likes you best. Really Al, you have no idea how the minds of young boys work,” Ed waved his hand.

“A couple of semesters under your belt and you're an expert,” Al said, “It's a pity you didn't have all this advanced knowledge when you were a young boy; being your brother might not have been such a ulcer-inducing past time.”

“Ah!” Ed said, and raised his finger, intent on wagging it in Al's face, but he caught himself at the last second, dropping his hand, “You couldn't get ulcers, you didn't have a stomach,” Ed said triumphantly.

“That's okay,” Al said, “You had stomach enough for both of us and a couple of siblings we never had,” Al retorted, hands going to his hips.

It was then the General wandered up and looked at them both with a pleasant smile. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

“Al kisses chickens,” Ed said.

“Ed is an expert on being an adolescent air-head,” Al replied.

“Al, kissing poultry will have people talking. Ed, engage your brain before putting your mouth into gear. Now gentleman, can we get this show on the road?” the General made a polite but pointed nod at the assembled crowd, who'd all gone silent. Some of the boys who were sitting up front had edged closer to listen to the siblings argue.

“Crank the crank Roy,” Ed said.

“Pardon,” the General asked, “This is not a time to be bringing that up...”

Ed grabbed the General's elbow and turned him, pointing toward the large crank handle before giving him a little shove forward.

“Just crank it?” The General asked.

“Just give it a good turn, that's all it should need,” Ed reassured him.

“Crank the crank?” Al said, looking sidelong at his brother. Ed's cheeks pinked a bit and he made a shooing motion with his hand.

“What do you know about it, you're the one kissing girls,” Ed hissed out of the side of his mouth.

“On the lips no less, girls who used to outrank me,” Al murmured back.

“Welcome to the real world, where you'll learn to love the compromise and you'll care how you look in the morning,” his big brother said. “Suddenly little things you never thought of before will no longer be little things and all your free time will be gone. Your privacy will eventually become nil and you'll feign interest in things that really aren't interesting at all. You'll live for each breath, each smile, and each day. You'll no longer live for yourself, it's amazing.”

Al studied his brother's profile as his brother watched the General reach up and grip the handle of the crank, looking over his shoulder at Ed once more, uncertainly. Ed smiled and nodded, hands clasped loosely behind his back. Ed had never lived for himself; it was funny to hear him speak of it as if he had. Ed lived for a cause and at one time, his cause was his younger brother. His cause was a bit different now, it was tugging on a make shift handle of an alchemized Rube Goldberg contraption.

“Harder!” Ed yelled in encouragement and mimicked tugged on the handle himself. The General quirked his eyebrow up, turned back to the handle and heaved downward. There was a sudden grinding noise, the sound of a bell chiming and the drawer of the crank cash register shot open, driving the ball on the ramp toward the first funnel; Ed held his breath.

****

It cracked the egg, the pedestal and the ground, but the crowd didn't seem to mind at all. It took some doing to hush them for the next introduction, whose last name also happened to be Elric.

“There is going to be no following that,” Al said with a shake of his head, tugging on a pair of old, white gloves he'd brought along for the occasion. His eyes strayed over the people standing on the sideline and his chest puffed out a bit at the sight of a certain Colonel standing between Alex and the Prince. The Prince! So he hadn't left after all. Al walked toward the hoses that had been strategically stretched across the field; they the 'fuel' for his fountain and Otto's alchemy. He clapped his hands together and knelt to the ground, replaying the fountain he'd studied on the train in his mind. It wasn't terribly intricate and he made mental modifications to the design as he pushed power into the earth below his feet and exchanged one energy for another. The basin of the fountain quickly formed and the central tower rose into the air. For an artistic touch he spiraled it, making it hollow as planned and splitting the top in a curved shape that was supposed to look like flames.

“What is he doing? It looks like a giant daisy,” Ed huffed to the General in the background.

Al tunneled beneath the fountain and the water hoses disappeared underground before he gave a curt nod toward the main building where a volunteer had been posted to turn on the water. He could hear the bubbling as the hoses came on one by one and glanced over his shoulder toward where his brother and the other 'performers' stood.

“Is that my cue?” Otto said. “That's my cue, isn't it?” The General turned abruptly and strode off, needing to get to the vantage point that had been previously discussed for his part in the spectacle. Al stood up and dusted off his hands, turned and bowed his head to the older gentleman who came up along side of him. Otto listened to the dean announce him over the loud speaker and gave Al a wink.

“Octavious is so pretentious, don't you think? I always thought so, but that's alright, I like pretentious. It's amazing what you find useful, isn't it?” Otto lifted his cane and struck it on the ground and there was a moment of collected silence in which nothing happened. Alphonse thought perhaps the man needed time to use the cane to sketch an array on the ground, but he did nothing of the sort. He simply stood with his hand on the brass cane handle, his other hand behind his back and surveyed the fountain of Alphonse's creation.

“It's rather plain,” Al said hesitantly, trying not to turn to glance at his brother. “I've never made a fountain before.”

“It's lovely my dear boy, simple lovely,” the silver haired man said, “It's tall and slender and dark, like many a lovely man I knew in my youth. It has the elegance and grace of a spiral, reaching toward the sun, its top open as if in supplication. It's truly a work of art.”

“Thank you,” Al said, fidgeting a little, “But really it's...”

The water in the fountain suddenly shot upwards and suspended as if frozen in place on all sides before exploding into a fine spray. Each tiny droplet seemed to reflect the sun as they began to swirl around the now dry fountain in a glittering display and there was an appreciative 'ahhh' from the audience in the bleachers. Suddenly the droplets went still, they seemed to flatten and broaden out and slowly, they began to layer themselves, one over another, until they took on the look of rippling, iridescent scales. Now the display snaked its way around the fountain, setting into the basin. It rose in waves, taking on the look of something diving and breaking the surface over and over again. Large, spiked fins rose from the rope like lengths that kept rising around the basin of the fountain, then the coils stilled and one of them detached itself and began to rise in the air.

The glistening, transparent dragon opened its mouth and roared. Alphonse gasped as the spray hit his face, raising his hands to shield his eyes against the glint coming from a creature of legend rising from a fountain. Suddenly, Ed was there, right beside him, wearing a grin that instantly threw Alphonse back ten years.

“How does he make it roar?” Ed asked in breathless wonder, “What could he be doing to cause such a sound?”

“Maybe it's like thunderclouds, the displacement of air,” Alphonse said, only to be drowned out as the dragon shrieked again.

The were calls and applause from the crowd, cheers and children's screams of delighted fright, then, as if one, the crowd gasped. Al turned quickly, eyes widening and reached to grab Ed's arm. Ed turned slowly, titling his head upward as the large firebird descended on the parade grounds.

****

There is always a moment, a special defining moment, when something you thought you'd lost is found again. It isn't always the person who thinks that perhaps they've lost it that has this revelation; sometimes it's those around them that have mourned its passing that take the greatest joys in its rebirth. Like a phoenix risen from the ashes, a cliché, but nevertheless true for its thinking.

He spread his arms and tilted his head back, seeking to expose as much of himself to the warmth as it passed over him, reveling in the rebirth of a glory he'd thought long since embers. The great bird descended silently, spread its wings and banked around the parade grounds before heading for the fountain itself.

Ed opened his eyes; the true beauty of this moment wasn't the firebird that a glistening water dragon rose to meet. His eyes trailed across the scene, toward the bleachers and the lone upper tier. There was a figure there, discernable by blue, with one arm outstretched; that was the true beauty of this display. The bird closed in on the dragon and they danced fancifully. A fairy tale legend brought to life, but fated to doom, for everyone knew that fire could not love water. The bird banked away again, soaring down the parade grounds and angling back up into the sky. It angled back once it was far from the ground, folding its wings in on itself and plummeted toward the fountain again.

The crowd was now cheering it on and Ed finally tore his eyes away from the upper bleachers to watch as the bird came skimming low to the ground and plowed straight into the opening at the bottom of the spiraled tower rising from the middle of the fountain. The dragon began to climb as well, coiling itself around the tower as it went. When it reached the top, the firebird burst from the opening and the dragon's coils encircled it. They climbed higher and higher together, loving and doomed, until at the pinnacle of their ascent, the dragon tightened its coils. The great bird, as silent as it was beautiful, threw its head back with wings spread and simply ceased to be. With its love gone, the dragon dissipated and fell in a rush toward the ground. Everyone around the fountain back pedaled furiously, all expect for a lone, blond alchemist, who once again threw his arms out and bowed his head, eyes closed.

****

There was an appreciative shriek as the ground rumbled all around them. The bleachers themselves seemed to bounce and Alphonse reached out and grabbed his brother's damp arm to steady himself. Ed grinned at him as the Rube Goldberg and the fountain shuddered and began to fall in on themselves. As this was happening, Alex raised his second spike-robed fist, slammed it into the earth and a great chasm opened beneath the two crumbling structures. They fell into it, the long tower of the fountain hitting and breaking in a spectacular display of flying dirt over the Rube Goldberg. They vanished without a trace as the earth snapped shut and when the dust settled, it seemed as if nothing had ever been there at all.

“Oh, well done,” Alphonse breathed by his brother's ear. “Listen to the crowd, Brother. I think this has been a great success.”

Ed smiled, nodded, his eyes turning to scan the bleachers once again, but the figure that had held him so enraptured was gone. All he really wanted to do now was find him and kiss him. Kiss him until neither of them could draw a proper breath. Run his hands down the back of that blue cloth, hear his nails scratching down to those square and narrow hips, feel the weight of the man between his legs...

“I'm going to find the Colonel,” Al said, drawing Ed from what could have been an embarrassing condition. Al released his arm and surged into the forming crowd around the troop of alchemists.

As an event, it was officially over. Ed tried to navigate the crowd, but the tugs and questions and boys’ pleas waylaid him, and the General was not given to being tall enough to distinguish amidst a sea of blue uniforms. He managed to get to Otto's side, however, as the man signed his own share of autograph books. He was positively glowing and it made Ed happy in innumerable ways.

“So, how is it you transmute without a circle?” Ed managed to get in edgewise between the pleas for autographs, young boys’ breathless questions and admiration. The older man winked at Ed and hefted up his cane enough for Ed to get a look at the array etched into the brass tip at the bottom. Ed grinned but got jostled aside. He was old hat now. After all, he was a teacher and accessible. He found he was glad his fame wore thin the longer he was with the school, now that he had a life and was not chasing one, it suit him to be just one of the crowd.

He glimpsed his brother, Riza at his side, standing with Alex and another group of boys. Al was grinning ear to ear as books where shoved in his face and he kept glancing at the Colonel to make sure she was watching. Ed's stomach did a little flutter at the sight. Growing up. No, that wasn't right. Grown up, he was grown up and finding his own happiness.


I did it, I managed to undo what I have done. May I be forgiven.

A hand landed on the small of his back and spread, the palm warm against his spine and he grinned and turned, but it was not the black hair and eyes of who he expected to see. The features were rounder, foreign and familiar.

“Congratulations,” said the prince, prodding the professor further from the crowd.

“Your display was breathtaking, fit for an emperor; and since one day I will be one, wasn't it lucky I was here to witness it.”

“Ling, I'm trying to find Roy...” Ed said.

“Where did you last see him?” the prince said, perhaps meaning to be helpful but not really sounding like it.

“He was on the bleachers,” Ed moved away from the hand on his back and turned to head toward the now almost deserted parade ground bleachers. The prince fell in step at his side, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Look, I don't need an escort,” Ed grumbled. “I'd rather see Roy alone, so if you don't mind, scram.”

“I don't mind,” the prince grinned. “I'm merely walking the same way, and as you haven't found the General yet, you don't have to be alone yet. Oh look, is that him?

Ed turned to look and then snorted. “No,” he said, “You know the General. He's not that tall, not that old and doesn't have a beard to his belly. You are being deliberately unhelpful.”

“All these uniforms look the same after a while,” the prince shrugged with an easy grin.

Ed ducked under the side of the bleachers where he and Alphonse and the General had their discussion earlier in the day. The sunlight dappled through the seats, but for the most part it, was dim and Ed didn't see anyone standing under them. He felt a little knot of disappointment and turned and ran into Ling who had ducked under with him.

“Do you always have to get right up on me?” Ed snapped, taking a step back, “What, are you afraid I'm going to disappear if I'm more than a foot away?”

“Quite possibly,” the prince said, advancing again. Ed backed up into a strut and hissed at the feel of the metal biting into his back.

“Look, Ling, this has to stop. I know that I've been... I don't want you to think I'm leading you on. Damn that sounds weird, I never in a million years thought I'd be saying anything like that...” the prince's lips cut him off and Ed raised his hands to put them on Ling's shoulders with the intention of pushing him away.

He managed it after a moment, held the prince off at arms length and panted slightly.

“I said this has to stop!” he snarled.

“But you didn't say stop,” the prince returned. “I don't think you really know what you want, Professor. I think it's very fortunate for both of us.” Ling took a step back then and Ed lowered his hands.

“I want to find the General,” Ed said, “I didn't come under here to get ambushed. Now leave off, I mean it.”

The prince nodded once, turned and walked off without another word and Ed took a moment to simmer down. What the hell was wrong with him that he let that pompous, monkey-faced bastard get away with putting his lips all over him? He ran a hand over his face, brushed back his ponytail and shook his head before moving from beneath the bleachers.

By this time, he'd lost track of everyone, and the fair grounds were emptying out. The only real crowds were the students taking down their booths, tallying up their takes and the football team struggling to get Matilda back in the truck. He threw his hands up and let them drop to his sides, then pulled them up and put them on his hips, pursing his lips and lookingaround. Great, abandoned.

“Professor,” called the voice he'd only spent the last hour looking for, (or what seemed like an hour, anyway). The General waved from the doorway of the main building and Ed grinned, hurrying toward him.

“I've been looking all over,” he said, coming up to Roy's side, “I thought you might be under the bleachers,” the Professor wiggled his eyebrows.

“You know, I thought about that,” the General grinned, “but I thought you might like to show me your classroom?” and he winked.

“The boys are going to store the booth pieces in there until Monday,” Ed said, elated and disappointed.

“Ah, well then, you'll have to show me the broom closet,” the General said.

“Broom... closet?” asked the Professor.

****

“It was... exhilarating, I didn't remember just how it felt...” the General mumbled into the side of the Professor's neck. The Professor, half dressed and with a mop handle pressing against his spine, just moaned.

The General nudged the Professor's shirt to the side, lowered his head and extended his tongue toward the nipple he'd just bared. The Professor hissed and arched his chest, slamming the heels of his hands against the mud sink he was leaning against.

“It was arousing,” the Professor hissed out when the General made a slow, warm and wet sweep of his tongue over his chest. “All I wanted to do was find you. Ah... Roy...”

“Find me?” the General murmured, leaving off his splendid torture for a moment, “What would you have done, if you had found me?” he asked.

“I think the fact I'm here and half naked in a broom closet should clue you in,” the Professor swallowed.

The General grinned into glazed, golden eyes, his fingers working at and releasing a belt and the button of a pair of dark, brown trousers. He tugged at the zipper then shimmied his hand inside, palm flat against Ed's stomach for a few moments. The General's fingers skated through the curls in the juncture of Ed's legs, who spread his legs and unbidden, went up almost onto his toes.

“You're fucking hot, did you know that? Flame just makes you that much fucking hotter... damnit YES... yes do that...” Ed panted.

“So, the alchemy made you hot?” Roy murmured, bowing his head to nibble up the side of his neck again.

“You made me hot, you always make me hot... the alchemy just made it... ah... AH…” It took a few moments before Ed could speak again, “I don't remember what I was saying,” he whined.

The General groaned deep in his chest and stuck his tongue in the Professor's ear; that was just too nice a fucking compliment. The Professor's hand suddenly made its way into one of the General's voluminous regulation trouser pockets and Roy grunted as Ed dug hard into the pocket but didn't come anywhere near his now evident erection.

“To your left,” Roy muttered, his own fingers closing around Ed's cock. Ed shivered and bucked into his hand, “Further to your left,” Roy panted again. Ed's hand obeyed and his fingers brushed over Roy's rigid penis, but quickly flitted away again.

“That's your dick, not the lube,” Ed complained and Roy groaned and sighed. He pulled his hands from Ed's pants and Ed whined loudly, gripping his forearms, but Roy hooked his thumb into the waist band of Ed's pants and began to work them down. He knelt as he worked them and Ed's breathing hitched up a great deal once the General was on his knees. Ow, the broom closet floor was tiled and wasn't very comfortable; it was cold as well and a bit damp. On his knees, he could smell more of the chemicals stored under the mud sink Ed was backed up against and that wasn't pleasant, so he stuck his nose in the damp, blond curls above his lover's erection and inhaled deeply. There, that was better, that smelled like Ed. Ed gasped and swallowed, arched his back and looked down at Roy with a dazed and heated expression.

“What are you doing?” Ed asked with a quiver in his tone.

“All I can smell down here is bleach,” Roy said, and rested his nose against musky, damp curls again. “But this is better.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ed said weakly and his thighs trembled under Roy's hands when Roy reached up to stroke over them.

“I can't help but think this should be the other way around,” the General suddenly mused. Ed's eyes came close to crossing. Why was it every time Ed was so horny he could fuck a knot hole in a log, Roy wanted to wax poetic over something?

“I'll blow you when we get home!” Ed bargained.

“I mean, if it was my display of superior alchemy that got you this aroused,” the General continued in that smug, teasing tone, the one that made Ed's toes curl, the one that made Ed want to shove that arrogant face into a meat grinder; yes that tone, continued, “I'd think you'd like to be showing me your appreciation.”

“I am showing you!” Ed half howled, “I'm fucking harder than a diamond and you made me that way, be goddamn flattered and suck me already,” he sobbed.

The General made a tsking sound and the tip of his tongue touched the base of Ed's cock and pressed there, seeming to move in a little circle.

“That spot’s done, move on,” Ed begged, “Roy, don't do this to me in a broom closet, for fuck's sake, I thought this was going to be a quicky!”

“Well, it was going to be,” the General said in that very put upon tone he got when the thought he was being horribly wronged, “but someone went and got snooty.”

“It wasn't me,” Ed sobbed, “It wasn't mean, I don't have a snooty bone in my fucking body. Fuck what do I have to do to make it up to you? Just fucking tell me, you always do this when you know I'm weak! You're a nasty bastard, praying on my honor. I hate you... oh fuck, put me in your mouth, I'll bottom for a month!”

“You'd bottom for a month anyway,” the General said with a smirk, “You like to bottom,” he gave Ed a long tongue swipe up the underside of Ed's straining cock.

“If you don't do something and soon,” Ed said, sweating and panting, “I'm going to transmute this broom right up your ass, and then... people won't say you walk around like you have a broom up your ass... they'll know. Please Roy...” Ed arched forward again, invitingly. He turned on his best pout, he gave the General his best big-eyed look.

The General looked up at him, one slim eyebrow arched and an amused smirk on his face. Then he repeated the lick up the Ed's cock and his tongue nudged the head. It was warm and full and red, glistening with pre-cum and Ed sucked in a hard breath. When the General closed his mouth over it and lightly tongued the slit, Ed came. As it turned out, it was a quicky indeed.

****

The Professor had the most languid smile on his face and he burrowed back into the car seat on the ride home.

“So spoiled,” the General murmured, a smile on his face.

“I know, what can you do?” Ed sighed and then he leaned hard and just flopped over, the side of his head hitting the top of the General's thigh. One of the General's hands immediately dropped to his head and scritched through the hair on his temple.

“You're going to be asleep before we get home,” his lover said and Ed couldn't argue. He was so warm and relaxed and happy.

“You were incredible,” Ed sighed, rubbing his cheek on the scratchy blue cloth, “I knew you could do it, I don't see why you thought you couldn't.”

“It was just one of those carryovers,” the General said, “Back when I was feeling sorry for myself. You know, not everyone can get knocked down and get up as quickly as you do, have pity for us mere mortals.”

“No, no pity for you,” Ed said and yawned, “You're not allowed to be a mere anything.” The gentle scratching over his ear was insidious and he found it near impossible to keep his eyes open.

“No pity for me,” the General murmured. His fingers strayed over the outer ridge of Ed's ear, lightly traced his jaw line, “Are you asleep?”

“Almost,” Ed said faintly.

“Thank you,” the General said, “From me and from Otto both.”

“What are you talking about?” Ed mumbled, “I didn't do anything, that display you two cooked up stole the entire demonstration.”

“Hmmm,” the General said. He might have said more, but Ed didn't catch it. He was floating now, Roy's fingers in his hair, the vibration of the car, Roy's warmth under his cheek; they all conspired against his waking consciousness.

The General could tell as he pulled the car onto the thoroughfare that he'd have a nice, quiet drive all the way home.