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Demon In the Design	By : antilogicgirl Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1596 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of the characters therein, nor do I derive any monetary profit from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter List
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A/N: I AM working on my other stories. But they're coming slowly, so here's another shorty for you. No pun intended, as this is my first foray into FMA. Hope you like it, in spite of what I'm doing to Roy Mustang, whom I adore. Anyhow, here is the warning list for the chapter. Short, yes.
Warnings:
FL--Foul Language
Psy--Psychological
Title: Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)
Series: Full Metal Alchemist
Pair: Roy/Ed
Begun: November 3, 2008
Complete:
Summary: Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.
I: Design
Kain Fuery blinked rapidly. What in the world could have possibly shaken the building so much that he ended up on the floor? And for that matter, where were his glasses? The dark-haired man squinted a little as he pushed himself up onto one elbow. After a moment, he saw a blur that looked like it might be his precious eyesight, and extended a hand to take the wire-rimmed glasses from the floor. Just as he grasped the left lens, another loud bang came from the area of the door. Jamming his glasses back onto his face, Fuery was just in time to see a sopping-wet Edward Elric, his hand flat against the door he’d just slammed open.
Golden eyes were narrowed, but that did nothing to lessen the heat of anger that burned there. Fuery scrambled up from the floor, trying to get out of the way as soon as humanly possible. Edward walked jerkily forward, his movements losing a large amount of grace due to just how angry he was. No one moved, or even breathed as he stalked across the room. He glared at the polished wood of the General’s door as though he could make it burst into flames with his violence of his anger. In his wake, he left a trail of wet footprints and drippings that smelled…Fuery gave a quiet, experimental sniff after Edward passed. His eyes widened and turned quickly to where he knew the First Lieutenant stood. She sighed, and seemed to be debating whether it was worth it to get involved.
One long moment later, Edward had slipped soundlessly into the General’s office, and Hawkeye seated herself against the outer wall of the building, on the front side. Apparently she had decided that it would be the safest place, and perhaps she was correct. Fuery moved over to where she sat, pulling up a chair and waiting for the storm to blow over. Breda, Havoc and Falman did the same. This was not turning out to be a very good day.
Edward James Elric was beside himself. There were no words to express how angry he was at the moment. That was why, as he entered the office of the object of said anger, he remained absolutely silent. In the hush of the room, he was sure that his rage enhanced his senses. He could see the cord for the telephone leading around the back of the large leather desk chair, which was turned away from the door. After a few seconds of quiet, he heard low murmuring from the man seated in that chair as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. The conversation continued for close to five minutes, during which Ed allowed his anger to simmer.
He reflected on his day, which had been absolutely wonderful until he had come into the office. The very first day he’d actually worn that damned blue uniform, something like this had to happen.
Ed breathed deeply. It was a rather cool autumn day, and he had chosen to take the long way to Headquarters. The air was crisp, and he’d enjoyed the simple pleasure of walking through the little park. Mothers were out with children, watching as they made neat little piles of leaves before destroying them with a single flop. Sights like that always brought back memories. Now, with things mostly back to the way they should be, those recollections were not completely sad. Ed even found himself smiling a little as he walked, immersed in thoughts of himself as a small child, along with his brother and doing precisely the same thing in their front yard.
Only a few blocks from Headquarters, Ed came across a boy who looked to be about five years old, playing in a sandbox with his younger sister. Upon seeing Ed, the boy stood up in a rigid military stance, and gave a very passable salute. For a moment, he blinked, forgetting what he now wore. Awkwardly, he returned the gesture, and watched the boy grin like a madman and then squeal with glee. Passing the little playground, he looked down at himself. He inwardly cursed his brother for doing laundry. Not that it was his favorite chore and preferred doing it himself…but Alphonse was absolutely obsessive about clean clothes now that he could wear them again.
And so, Ed had been rather annoyed when the expertly tailored blue uniform was shoved into his hands. “It’s clean,” Al had said, “and I even took the trouble to press it for you.” Edward ran a hand over the cuff of his left sleeve, smiling in spite of himself. Al had done an exemplary bit of work ironing. Just the right amount of starch in the cuffs, collar and slacks, and not a wrinkle to be seen. It was little things like domestic chores that had always given Al the most pleasure. He enjoyed cooking, but now he gained the benefit of being able to taste what he made. And when he’d looked at his brother’s face when he handed him the perfectly pressed and folded uniform, Edward’s ire simply melted. He never could stay angry at Al. Not when he saw how happy doing things for others made the younger man.
Which brought him back to the reason he was absolutely livid. A pale hand reached out to the right, replacing the large telephone receiver in its cradle. “Why,” came the smooth, slow drawling voice from behind the chair back, “I do believe you are getting my carpet wet, Fullmetal.” The chair swiveled slowly around, and finally Edward was able to see that face. That smirking, sneaky, devious face. One slender eyebrow rose, and Roy Mustang’s nose wrinkled. “Did you decide to go swimming in the men’s room?”
Eyes narrowing to thin slits, Ed knew he was being baited. If he flew off the handle now, then Mustang would win. Instead, he decided to play it cool. For once, he would beat this man at his own game. Smoothing out the crease between his eyebrows took some force, and Ed felt close to exhausted after lowering his shoulders. He even mustered a “No, sir,” when he addressed his commanding officer to say, “I was merely…using the facilities when the toilet exploded.” He had managed to put up a wall to keep from being sliced to ribbons by shards of porcelain, but had not been so lucky as to remain dry. “Since all requests for maintenance must go through you, I thought it would be wise to inform you immediately.”
This was not what he had expected. Ed was far too cool, far too calm about the whole thing. When he had dropped that chunk of dry ice into the toilet in Edward Elric’s office, he had imagined that his subordinate officer would raise his voice, perhaps attempt physical violence, and finally end with the impotent slamming of doors. He had not thought that he would wait calmly while Roy continued the conversation with Marla, his date for the evening. It was completely unanticipated that the younger alchemist would be able to curb his temper when he was absolutely soaked with toilet water and smelling of disinfectant. Nevertheless, Roy was rather good at reading people, and beneath that calm exterior, he knew that Edward Elric was writhing in fury.
“Well.” He said softly, taking up a pen to write out the maintenance request, “That is…rather serious. You may use the restroom here to freshen up as much as may be.” Roy watched amusedly as Ed stalked into his personal bathroom. That was the only godsend to being a General. The paperwork piled up so that the hours in the office were longer, but at least he could shower after being at Headquarters for sixteen hours. The younger man did not close the door. No, he seemed far too angry for that. Roy returned to his papers until he heard the shower. He glanced over at the open door, and saw the blue uniform draped over the shower door.
Then he watched a dark, metallic hand reach up over the frosted glass, pulling the pants into the small stall. Moments later, he saw the jacket, shirt, and under shirt disappear into the shower as well. Apparently, Edward was washing out the toilet water. Losing interest in the activities of the young man in his shower, Roy went back to reviewing a report from Havoc. Vaguely, he heard the shower stop, Edward moving around, and finally, footsteps approaching his desk.
He looked up just in time to see Ed’s hands slap together. Water shed from the uniform the blonde man wore, flowing through the air in trails until it formed a roughly globular shape between himself and Roy. All told, there was probably close to a gallon of water that had been pent up in the blue wool, which was now rumpled, but appeared to be completely dry. “General Mustang,” Ed began, forcing Roy to tear his eyes from the strangely mesmerizing mass of floating water, “Let me make this as monosyllabic as possible: One more prank, and you’re a dead man…” Edward leaned forward, causing the water orb to move with him, and he smiled, adding, “…Sir.” With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.
Roy had the presence of mind to shove himself back from the desk as the ball of water fell, splashing all over the papers he had been working on. He did not get wet, but half of his day would be spent re-filing and re-writing all of those forms. That meant he would have to call Marla and cancel their date. The door closed behind Edward with a soft click, and Roy stared at the dark wood. After a moment, it opened again. Riza put her head and shoulders in, her brown eyes scanning the room. When they landed on the mess on his desk, she pushed the rest of her body inside. “Sir,” she said abruptly, “permission to speak freely?”
“Granted,” he grunted, still trying to figure out what was going on in Fullmetal’s brain.
Riza relaxed her posture, arms crossing under her breasts. One foot tapped in displeasure, suddenly reminding Roy of his mother. “I just sent Havoc to Edward’s office. The toilet is gone, as is half of his office wall. Water is flooding the place, and into the hallway. Just what were you thinking when you decided to blow up his toilet?”
Now, Roy turned his full attention to his assistant. Fixing her with a very serious gaze, he spoke the absolute truth. “It was for my own amusement, First Lieutenant. Do you have a problem with that?”
A crease developed between her eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth drew down. “Do you even need to ask that question? You could have seriously injured him, Sir.”
“Pfft…I don’t think so.” Roy scoffed, much to Riza’s apparent surprise. “I know that kid. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt by something as minor as an exploding toilet. He’s tough as nails, and far too good of an alchemist to allow that to happen.”
Riza tilted her head slightly to one side, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That sounds almost like a compliment, Sir. You’d best be careful with these pranks. It might start to look like when the boys tried pulling my hair in the schoolyard.” Roy’s eyes widened fractionally. What was she implying? That he…Oh, hell no, that wasn’t right. On several levels. The only reason that Roy had blown up the kid’s toilet was to get a bit of excitement around this dreadfully boring place. And what had he gotten? Nothing but a desk full of wet papers. No, it was no schoolyard bully’s crush. This was war.
Just like in any war, Roy knew that he needed a good strategy. He needed a battle plan.
Now seated on the front steps of the massive stone building, Edward chewed on his sandwich. By some miracle, the thing had remained dry, and free of that horrid toilet stench. Once he’d swallowed the bit of food in his mouth, he picked up the bottle of juice he’d gotten from the cafeteria. “Al’s going to murder me…” he grumbled under his breath as he took a drink. And it was all that man’s fault. Could he have come up with anything that was more infantile? More immature than blowing up a toilet? “At least there wasn’t a flaming bag of dog crap in my desk drawer.”
“Way to look on the bright side, Fullmetal.”
Edward slumped, his head sagging down between his shoulders. Setting down his bottle with a soft clink, he shoved still-damp bangs behind one ear and looked over his shoulder. General Roy Mustang stood as cool as a cucumber, hands in his pockets and leaning against one of the gigantic pillars that held up the front portico of Central’s headquarters. Why was it that the very presence of the older man made him feel as if there was a very heavy weight on his shoulders? “Is that an admission of guilt, Sir?” He asked, allowing a bit of his irritation to show.
Mustang only shrugged. “I can neither confirm nor deny any knowledge of how your toilet exploded.”
Lies! Always! Why did this son of a bitch always lie? Ed snorted, one corner of his mouth rising in a sarcastic attempt at a grin. “Riiiiight. Just keep digging that hole, General.” I’ll catch you in the act. Then, Ed thought with an internal smirk, then you’re mine. But, until that time, he would have to wait, and watch closely. Until the other man made a move, he would just have to play up to him. He could do that. I can take anything you can dish out, you pansy. In his head, Ed growled, but outwardly, he held onto an air of lazy indifference as he said, “Permission to return to eating my lunch, Sir?”
Roy moved more quickly than Edward thought possible. He removed his hands from his pockets, grabbed one of Ed’s arms just under the shoulder, and hauled him to his feet. Still a head shorter than his commanding officer, even at the age of twenty, Ed had to crane his neck to look up at Roy. He felt his arm pull and twist as the older man’s grip tightened, and those dark eyes hardened. “Permission denied, Edward. Now, I believe that you have some forms to fill out.”
Turning away from Ed, he began to make his way back to the main entrance of the building. Try as he might, he was unable to remove Roy’s gloved hand from his arm. Again, he felt strong fingers digging into his arm, and his hand began to go numb. “Hey!” he yelled, twisting and turning, thrashing in his attempt to escape. “Hey, you ass! Let me go!” His pleas went unheard, and Roy continued to drag him down the hallways, up two flights of stairs, down another hall, and through the communal office. Falman looked as if his eyes were going to fall out of his head, while Havoc paused in lighting his cigarette. When they reached the door to Mustang’s office, he heard Riza Hawkeye call from across the room.
“Sir! What are you doing with Major Elric!?” Her eyes showed concern, and not a little suspicion. Edward mouthed words at her. Help me. He’s insane. Riza began weaving through the maze of desks to get to them, and continued to speak to Roy as the General fiddled with the key for his office door. “Sir, I insist that you release the Major immediately. He looks uncomfortable.”
“Halt,” came Mustang’s low, commanding voice, and Riza stopped immediately. Consternation came over her face, only to be replaced by apology. He knew that look. Her hands were tied. “First Lieutenant Hawkeye, please remain precisely where you are until I tell you to go elsewhere. I have an assignment for the Major, and as his office is no longer serviceable, he will occupy the small desk in the corner of mine.” Edward opened his mouth to protest, but he soon shut it again when he felt the air around him begin to heat up. The bastard, he thought, he’s going to cook me!
When the door finally opened, Ed was roughly shoved inside. He stumbled, and then tripped on the edge of the carpet he’d earlier made wet. The only thing that saved him from a very ungraceful landing on his pride was the fact that his arm was still in Mustang’s iron grip. Instead, he used that leverage to right himself. And then the hold was gone. One glance at how wrinkled his sleeve was told him that there would be a rather well-articulated hand-shaped bruise there tomorrow. He flexed his fingers, trying to get feeling back into them. “What’s the big idea? I didn’t do anything to you!” Ed spat, very nearly giving in to the urge to pummel the man.
Roy reached out, and Ed backed away. He was not going to be abused in this way! “Relax, kid.” The voice that came out of the taller man was now completely different from the one he’d used before. There was no command, no arrogance. Well, there was a lot less arrogance. Ed looked up at Roy, who was edging closer. The hand that extended toward him had not dropped, and it soon landed on Ed’s shoulder. It did not squeeze, but exerted gentle pressure, guiding him toward the back of the room, where he now saw a very small desk. It was no more than a card table, really, only more solidly built. “Sit.”
Cautiously, Edward did as he was told. Roy backed away, retreating to his own desk. What was this man playing at? He…he must have cracked. Mustang had gone insane—batshit insane—and was now taking it out on Ed. That must be it. “General?” he asked tentatively, and garnered no response. “Sir?”
The creak of springs and leather sounded loud in Ed’s ears, since it was only a few feet away. Roy sank into the cushions, somehow appearing smaller. He sighed heavily before saying in a somewhat defeated tone, “Stop calling me Sir, Fullmetal. It makes me feel…”
Roy had trailed off there, his eyes closing as if he were trying to steady himself. How did it make him feel? Old? Tired? Annoyed? What? Ed didn’t ask. However, he did inquire, “Then what am I supposed to call you?”
“Just call me Roy.” Mustang’s eyes fell onto him again as they opened. Ed was not sure he liked what he saw. “I need a little normality right now.” Wait. What? Had something happened? Had his dog died? No, Roy didn’t have a dog. If not that, then what the hell was going on? He didn’t ask, though. That information was volunteered. “When you came in earlier, I was on the phone with my doctor.”
Eyes like spent coals turned toward the window. Mustang’s face seemed drawn, somehow. For a long moment, he was silent. “And…what did the doctor say?” Ed asked gently. He didn’t know what was going on, since the bastard seemed to be having mood swings, and started talking about a doctor. To be honest, Ed didn’t think it would be all that surprising if Roy Mustang had ended up with some sexually transmitted disease. Syphilis sounded about right, but Ed thought Chlamydia would be more fitting. He’d seen pictures of what that did to you. Not pretty at all.
Disturbing his morbid and highly satisfying thoughts, Roy blurted, “I have cancer.”
“Wait…what?” Ed’s entire train of thought derailed at that one. “You’ve got…”
Roy waited for him to say it, but he knew he couldn’t finish. That word was hard to say. It was what killed his mother. Something in his chest started to ache. How long did Mustang have? Months…years? There were some kinds of cancer that killed you faster than others, and Ed knew that those could sneak up on you, even if you thought you were perfectly healthy. He’d seen it.
“Cancer, Edward. I have cancer. Dr. Brumfield says I have a tumor the size of a ping-pong ball in my head.” Ed thought that Roy sounded bitter. He looked like he was trying to shrink in on himself, too.
But, Ed thought, they have treatments, don’t they? He could live longer, maybe even beat it. When he said as much, Roy shook his head. “No, Edward. There are no treatments for this. They can’t even cut it out.”
The ache in his chest intensified. He might not like this guy, but he wasn’t inhumanly cruel. “I’m sorry…” Ed murmured lowly, for once in his life feeling truly apologetic. “Should I…” he cast around for something, anything to take his mind off of the genuine feelings of pity and compassion that welled up inside him. “Should I get you something? Um…water? Mom was always thirsty…”
Roy watched the panicked expression on Edward’s face as he looked around the room awkwardly. When he was going through the younger man’s file earlier, for what must have been the hundredth time since they’d become acquainted, he ran across a copy of Trisha Elric’s death certificate. The woman died of a rare form of cancer that was completely incurable. Now, he knew that his decision had been right. It was perfect. Ed looked as if he were going to start crying soon.
Mean-spirited? Maybe. Evil? Quite possibly. Brilliant? Most certainly.
A/N: So, what do you think? Is it evil enough? Love you guys if you review!
A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.
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Demon In the Design