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Caveat Emptor	By : seatbeltdrivein Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male > Roy/Ed Views: 798 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist and do not profit from writing fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Roy could see no signs whatsoever that his much-lauded self-control would ever function properly around Ed. Ed himself seemed to realize as much, maintaining a careful distance between them at all times. Roy scowled at the boy's measured movements. There was no reason Ed should be so against Roy touching him – surely, he expected as much? And wasn't it a good thing, to have such a good-looking client? But the boy, after letting Roy slip out of him, had scrambled away with the same flustered panic as he'd had that first morning, like a schoolgirl after her first time, torn between scandal and pleasure.
The light was red. Roy tapped on the wheel, impatient, and stared at Ed.
Ed, currently, wasn't Ed – was Trisha, in fact, and it was still shocking just how skilled he was at making himself into a new person.
Roy could easily fool himself into thinking he was actually sitting next to a beautiful woman. He wanted to find the cracks between Ed's seamless transitions, but no matter how hard he looked, no matter what he said, the disguise seemed impossible to detect. The slight dip of Ed's head and the lean of his body, which angled the fall of his hair to carefully conceal the out of place protrusion of his adam's apple, was so feminine in nature that there was very little reason to hide even that. Why would anyone bother looking for what they were certain wouldn't be there to begin with?
"Was there anything specific you'd like?" Roy rested a hand on Ed's knee, noted the red rising beneath the delicately applied makeup.
"I'm not picky," Ed responded falsetto. He didn't so much as blink: just smiled and blushed and acted the unspoilt girl straight out of the country, so perfectly that Roy itched to pull straw from her hair. "I trust your taste, Roy," Ed-cum-Trisha said, batting her lashes.
Her knees were pressed together beneath the solid gray fabric of her skirt, ankles crossed primly. Roy kept his hand in place, moved it up and squeezed her thigh when the light turned green.
Keeping to the previous night's theme seemed a good idea. Roy pulled into the parking lot of a small diner, out of the way yet still open enough for news of their visit to spread. It was another place he never would have chosen freely to visit. Ed, he had no doubt, would have.
Ed's hand hesitated on the door, expression more his own than sweet Trisha's. So Roy grabbed his chin and said, "You're beautiful," willing his girl back. Ed softened into Trisha in a moment. It was like staring at an optical illusion.
When they walked into the diner, Ed didn't even put up a fuss about holding his hand.

*

The office was swept for bugs when Roy returned on Monday morning: a pre-emptive measure for the meeting they'd all been anticipating.
"The doctor was relocated to an undisclosed location out of the country," Breda read, flipping through a thin file. "His home was investigated—christ, the scene photos were brutal— but no one found any evidence. There wasn’t anything that would indicate either the whereabouts of the doctor or the identity of the one responsible for the deaths of the officers sent to take Knox into custody." He snapped the file closed and tossed it onto Roy's desk. "Your guy's a real monster."
Roy pursed his lips, chin resting on steepled fingers. Reluctantly, he picked up the file and opened it, flipping to the photos. Upon glancing over the first one, he stopped, frozen.
Brutal wasn't quite the word for it. It was – disturbing, something completely inhuman. Roy couldn't associate the boy he'd left in his bed that morning to the gore in these photographs.
The automail could have done it, a voice spoke up in his mind. Automail could rip a man limb from limb, a man twice Ed's size.
"The Devil's Nest is something, isn't it?" Hughes grabbed the file and slipped it into his jacket. "At least we know Ed's useful." There was something off in Hughes' tone, something grieving.
Hughes took everything too personally.
"How old is he?" Havoc asked. He'd been sitting at his desk chewing a pencil when Roy'd gotten in that morning, and by now the damn thing looked near decimated. Havoc held it pinched between two fingers, the eraser end resting at the corner of his mouth. "He looks—hell, it's hard to tell when he looks like," a vague, obscene gesture over his chest, "but when he left, you know, in normal clothes, he looked real young."
"He said he's seventeen," Roy offered. "But I have no way of knowing how true that is. Greed might have given him a specific identity for the mission."
"Several, apparently." Hughes sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "The important thing is that Ed got everything done. We're safe for now, us and Knox."
"We’re short a doctor, though," Breda put in.
"Which brings me to my next point!" Hughes tapped another file resting on Roy's desk. "We need more support."
Names. The folder contained sheet after sheet of names and profiles. "Prospectives?" Roy frowned. "You've investigated all of them?"
"Of course," Hughes said, adjusting his glasses. "And we need people, Roy. Our supporters have been getting targeted left and right—we can't do this on our own."
"What do you propose we do?" Roy asked, irritated. "Knock on," he glanced at the list, "Mr. Tringham's front door and ask if he'd fancy a bit of treason?"
Havoc and Breda grinned. Hawkeye tutted disapprovingly and leveled Roy with a stern look.
"That," Hughes said, grinning ominously, "is where our little monster comes in."

*

Roy got home late that night, drained and irritable. It was just after ten when he pushed the door closed behind him. The whole front of the house was dark, save for a soft, glowing light streaming out from under the cracked door to his office. Ed didn't look up when Roy stepped in the room, apparently too focused on the book spread across his lap.
"Didn't know you were interested in alchemy," Ed said. "It's illegal, y'know."
"As are many of the things I do," Roy said wryly.
"Do you still practice?" When Ed looked up finally, his eyes were glowing in the dim light of the room, looking almost inhuman.
"I'm surprised you're so interested." Roy hesitated. "But yes—I do."
Ed set the book aside and stood. "Can you show me?"
"I—yes," Roy said, dazed by the intensity of the boy's gaze. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and took out a small box. It wasn't the cleverest hiding place, but Roy had faith in the security of his home.
It had been too long since he'd worn his gloves. Ed watched, unblinking, as Roy pulled them from the small box and onto his hands, flexing his fingers in the material. Too long, too damn long, since he'd felt the rush of flames from his hands.
"Put out the light," Roy instructed, nodding when the boy complied. "Pick up that candle—the one on the bookshelf. Hold it by the base."
The room was completely dark, only the faintest trace of moonlight stealing in through the space between the bottom of the curtains and window glass.
Ed stood in the center of the office, candle held carefully in his hands. Roy could only just make out his silhouette. Roy raised his left hand, fingers a hair's width apart.
"Stay still," he said, and snapped. A faint, crackling pop sounded in the room as the candle suddenly lit up, illuminating the boy's face. His expression was enthralled, ecstatic.
"Flame alchemy," Ed murmured, holding the candle close to his face. "Brilliant."
Roy stripped off the gloves and tucked them away into the hiding place again, watching the boy in his peripheral. "What about you?"
"Me?" Ed looked up.
"Alchemy," Roy said, grabbing the candle and resting it carefully on the desk. "Do you practice?" The boy was so enthralled by such a simple display. He was obviously interested in the science. If he actually practiced it …
"Yeah," Ed said, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. "I do."
"That's useful. I'd like to see it."
"You will," Ed promised. "Right now, though, I'm fuckin' starving." Just like that, the reverent atmosphere broke, and humanity returned to the boy's eyes.
"You could have eaten without me," Roy said, amused. "Although it's flattering that you waited."
"Fuck you, I wasn't waitin' for your stupid ass. I just got distracted," Ed hissed at him, hackles raised.
"It's wonderful to know you've become so attached," Roy purred.
The boy's indignant rage was hysterical. Roy couldn't help but push his buttons. Only the memory of the crime scene photos held him back from continuing.

*

Hughes wanted to brief Edward himself. He showed up at a reasonable time, champagne bottle in one hand, a gift basket in the other, talking at the top of his lungs about so what'll you name the kids? until the door was safely closed behind him.
"Edward!" Hughes said jovially.
"Oh, it's you," Ed said flatly.
"This is nice," Hughes carried on, either ignoring or ignorant of the boy's lack of enthusiasm. "Much better way to spend time together, eh? No bodies!"
"Maybe I like bodies," Ed muttered darkly, shrinking away. Hughes, predictably, was unperturbed.
"We have another job."
"For me?" Ed glanced at Roy, frowning. "Why'd he have to come an' tell me? You can't read, now, too?"
"Hughes insisted," Roy said through clenched teeth. "I'm perfectly capable of—"
"You know how it is," Hughes cut him off, looking like he couldn't be any more thrilled. "Roy, he doesn't always hit all the pertinent details. That's why I'm on payroll."
"I can rectify that, you know."
Hughes shoved Roy, grinning. "Anyway, Ed, mind if I call you Ed? No? Excellent—" Ed didn't get the chance to stutter out a response, just watched the man speak with a wary scowl. "—now you know why you're here."
"For three months, I do," Ed said, finally getting a word in.
"Right," Hughes looked at Roy, "for three months." Roy shrugged. "Then we'd better get our money's worth!"
Ed started at that, gaze sliding to Roy, who watched the boy turn the words over in his mind, eyes shuttering. They were Roy's words, and he'd meant them. There was no point in regretting anything after the fact.
Hughes continued, oblivious. "What we're lacking is support. Manpower, if you will. The main issue is that, well," Hughes laughed, a nervous trill. "People who join us have a tendency to die."
"Inconvenient," Ed offered. "But I don't see how I can help."
"We need someone who can, let's say, get the word out."
Ed stared. "How in the hell—"
"We have a list of prospectives. People who could be beneficial." Hughes went on and on about it, manpower, doctors, soldiers, scientists, politicians – talked as though Ed gave a damn. He didn't give a fuck about the logistics and told Hughes so, loudly.
Oddly enough, Roy supported that. "Edward isn't here to talk politics, Hughes. The specifics."
Hughes looked put out for all of a second before he barreled on. "You, Ed," a pause, "Trisha, anyway. You'll be our connection."
"How's me wearin' a dress going to help?" Ed demanded. "Or am I missing something?"
"Trisha just moved here," Hughes said mildly. "She's from the country, just moved in with her lover—but she's not stupid enough to go without support."
Roy nodded. "A job?"
"A job," Hughes agreed. "A secretarial position with the department of natural sciences at Central University."
Ed stared. "How'd you wrangle that so quick?"
"Oh, I know a guy," Hughes said, vague. "And so will you soon! Isn't this exciting?"
Ed looked at Roy, eyebrows quirked up. Roy shrugged, and said, "When?"
"Still don't see why I have to dress like a girl for this," Ed grumbled. His complaint went unnoticed.
"Seeing as we've been given a time limit, I thought it best to start quickly," Hughes explained wryly. "So you have an interview tomorrow afternoon."
"Interview?" Ed demanded. "I thought you already set this up! Like hell am I gonna—"
"Kid, you are entirely too easy to read," Hughes said. "Work on that. And in any case, I did set it up, but that doesn't mean there isn't an order to follow. If it looks suspicious, someone's bound to take notice."
Ed fumed, but didn’t question the logic. Instead, he just muttered "Stop calling me kid," then crossed his arms and slumped down in his seat.
Shooting Ed an unimpressed look, Roy leaned forward. "What do we need to do?"

*

The office was nearly empty, save for one man sitting in the receptionist's desk, peering intently at the computer screen. There was a series of pronounced lines running across his forehead from temple to temple. As he narrowed his eyes in concentration, the creases deepened.
"Shouldn't you have a secretary to man the front, Professor Tringham?"
The man looked up sharply, blinking in surprise. "Mugear?" He laughed. "Always so formal. I've told you before—Nash is good enough."
Mugear stepped into the office proper, giving a fundraising banner posted on a shoddy bulletin board a critical look. "And you're as casual as ever," he joked, but there was very little humor in his tone. "Really, you have enough work to do, Nash. Tell me you aren't sitting out here answering calls? There's research to be done!"
Nash rubbed at his nose, shrugging sheepishly. "I've an interview in," he glanced at his watch, "just a few minutes. A young woman's to be applying for the position. If it works out well, she'll be replacing Lyra. You remember her, of course?"
"Vaguely," Mugear said unconvincingly.
"But really, what are you doing all the way out here?" Nash asked, reclining in the office chair. He stretched his arms over his head, wincing as his back cracked, the sound of it audible.
Mugear raised a brow. "The department of natural sciences has been under fire recently. I was defending your use of funds to the board of trustees up until ten minutes ago."
"Ah," Nash said. He swallowed, beginning to look flustered. "I do apologize for that. But the research is good, I can promise—"
"I'll be more impressed when I see the results," Mugear said sharply. He stroked the lapels of his jacket and cleared his throat, as though in an effort to rein himself in. "See that you find yourself a suitable assistant soon," he said, the words holding an edge of warning.
"I—absolutely, yes," Nash said, scrambling through the mess of papers on the desk. "I've got a, ah, Ms. Trisha Elric," he announced, "coming in two hours from now."
Mugear snorted. "I don't care who she is. Just get what you need to get done, Tringham. I look forward to seeing the results." Just as he was about to turn and leave, he paused, frowning. "Elric, you say?" he repeated. "Odd name."
"She came highly recommended," Nash began, but Mugear didn't bother sticking around to listen to the professor's stammered assurances.
Mugear made his way out of the main office and down the corridor to the building's entrance. He paused in the doorway until he caught sight of his chauffeur parked out front, and then made his way to the curb, holding his chin high and looking down his nose at the students loitering about.
The door was opened for him by a nondescript-looking man in black. Mugear slid into his seat and waited for the door to close. Then he heaved a sigh and shot the other person sitting in the back of the car a dark look.
"You're free to be you," said Lust, with no small amount of amusement.
A faint red crackle filled the area, and the older man's features morphed and shrank into a much younger, petite form. Envy let his head fall back on the headrest and clasped his hands over his stomach.
"This is getting really old," he muttered.
"Get used to it," Lust sniffed. "We only have so many options."
"Whatever." Envy shrugged. "What next?"
"We wait," Lust said simply.
"How different," Envy said. Then he remembered: "Tringham's getting a new secretary."
"To replace Lyra? It's about time. She's been gone for quite a while.'
"I still think we should have left her," Envy insisted. "She was easy to keep track of. Didn't ask questions."
"She's been put to better use," Lust said, putting an end to that conversation. "Did he say anything? About the new secretary? We ought to report on that. If everything goes as planned, we'll have to keep tabs on whoever it is." Lust sighed wearily.
"Some girl." Envy shrugged. "Elric. Does that sound familiar to you?"
Lust raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. She quickly leaned back and banged on the window separating the cab from the backseat. "Change of plans," she said. "Take us to the House of Parliament."
The car took an abrupt right that sent Envy straight into the door. "I take it the name's familiar?" he asked snidely, rubbing his shoulder.
"Unfortunately," Lust snapped, drumming her nails restlessly against the armrest. "And it will be to you, too, soon enough."

*

Roy had a bottle of champagne sitting on the table when Havoc returned Ed to the house. "To celebrate your new job," he said.
"You mean the one we already knew I was going to get?" Ed bit back.
The comment didn't stop Roy from pouring two – very full – glasses. "Any reason to celebrate is a good one," he insisted, shoving one of the glasses at Ed and lifting his own in a mock toast.
"I'm not even old enough to drink," Ed pointed out.
Roy pushed off the weight that comment dropped on him. "You do everything else," he said. "And you're worrying about the law now?"
"Sometimes I wonder," Ed began, but he let the thought trail off in favor of taking a gulp, which he immediately spat back into the glass. "Oh, fuck that!" His face contorted into a sour, pinched expression, and he quickly put the glass down on the counter. "No thanks."
"I suppose it does require a certain amount of sophistication to appreciate," Roy mused, tipping back his own glass. After taking a deep drink, he leveled Ed with a serious look. "You told me you'd show me your alchemy."
"I did," Ed said, "eventually." Any mention of his own participation in the science seemed a guarantee to shut the boy up. Roy swallowed his frustration before trying again.
"Eventually is now," he said. It was obviously an order.
Ed frowned, those funny little creases forming between his eyebrows. Then his expression smoothed out altogether, and he took a step forward, "Maybe I had something else in mind?" He was very much in Roy's personal space, leaning in. His fingers grazed Roy's side.
Roy raised an eyebrow. It was an awfully clumsy attempt at seduction. The way Ed seemed to curl in on himself even as he tried to sway Roy with his body was telling. It struck him as very odd that Ed could be so – so insecure in his own sexuality. He was meant to be a professional. The disconnect reminded Roy unpleasantly of Ed's age, of exactly what and who he had purchased.
But that didn't stop Roy from putting his glass down with a clink and laying his hand on Ed's shoulder. The boy's eyes followed the motion, even as Roy slid his hand down to the crux of his arm.
Fine. If Ed wanted to play it that way, then Roy had no trouble with indulging him. There would be time enough for interrogations later.
"Something else?" he asked, watching the way Ed's pupils dilated. Roy rested his free hand on the boy's hip and drew him closer. "I'd love to hear about it."
The way Ed swallowed, the exaggerated bob of his throat, the slight tremor in his back – it was absurdly charming.
"Let's go upstairs," Ed suggested to Roy's shoulder. It seemed that he couldn’t quite manage eye contact.
Roy let the boy lead the way.
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Caveat Emptor