A Not-So-Impulsive Romance

Disclaimer: My name is Anemone. I suck at deadlines, and I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Usually, when I write a story, I dedicate it to the person who inspired it. This one, however, is a little different because multiple people – people whom I'd be lost without – helped create it.
So, this story is dedicated to: Sly-sama and Chris for inspiring me to write in first person POV, Cadillia Jade for setting the scene, and Riri-Lala-Kiki for being my Valentine and inspiring this with our joint project.

Impulsive. Late. Late and impulsive. Impulsively late.

These words tumbled around and around in my head. I scowled, irritated that I couldn't form a coherent thought. This wasn't a common occurrence for a child prodigy like me. Clearly the alcohol was to blame.

I eyed the drink warily; the dark liquid in the glass seemed to shift from clear to fuzzy. I couldn't focus. 'So this is what it's like to be drunk,' I thought. I snorted, 'I don't see what the big deal is.'

"Maybe I've had enough," I mumbled. My words came out slurred and, as if to confirm my suspicion, I swayed on the barstool, grabbing the dark wood of the bar to steady myself.

"Edward, sir?"

I turned, focusing on the slightly shocked voice to my left. "Lieutenant Hawkeye," I greeted, feeling my lips pull into a slightly sloppy form of my usual wry smirk. "I didn't expect to see you here." I was surprised at the clarity of my voice, my words weren't as slurred.

"I could say the same to you," the blonde woman said, narrowing brown eyes at me suspiciously. "How'd you get in?" She knew me well enough to know fake IDs weren't my style.

I gave her a cheeky grin. "I've got a pretty smooth tongue, y'know." I sent her a heated stare, batting my lashes a bit for emphasis.

A knowing look crossed her face. "So you charmed the bartender." She tried to keep her tone disapproving, but I saw her fight a smile.

"Pretty much," I said, dismissing the topic with a wave.

"So what are you drinking?" She slid into the seat next to me and, for the first time, I noticed she wasn't wearing the usual military garb. Instead, her lithe physique was covered in a light pink dress that stopped just above her knees. Stiletto heels accented the outfit, and her hair – free from its usual bun – framed her face and flowed down her back.

I gave a low whistle of approval. "This look suits you better."

She blushed lightly and, for a second, I was shocked. 'I just made Riza Hawkeye blush.'

She eyed the dark substance in my glass pointedly and raised a brow.

"Scotch," I told her, picking up the glass and swirling the liquid.

"Pretty strong stuff," she remarked. "Something bothering you?"

'Not something, more like someone.' Of course, I wasn't about to tell Riza any of this. "Not at all," I assured, flipping my bangs from my eyes.

Sharp brown eyes – the eyes of a sniper – examined me, scrutinized my every move. I always hated it when she gave me those soul-searching stares. "Come on, Edward," her tone was soft, contradicting those eyes. "You can tell me." She scooted closer, whispering this in my ear conspiratorially.

"There's nothing to tell," I said coolly. "Really." My smile was too happy, but I hoped she'd blame it on my buzz.

She pursed her lips in thought; the dim lighting caused the pink gloss coated on them to glisten. "It's a person, isn't it?"

I couldn't help it. I shot her a shocked glance.

"Call it women's intuition," she supplied as reasoning. "That and the fact that you've been nervous since Valentine's Day."

"Fine," I said through clenched teeth. "But I'm not telling you who it is." My bottom lip protruded in a defiant pout.

At this, Riza smirked. "Well, there's a very small list of suspects."

I groaned. She was right, and it wouldn't take her long to guess.

"Let's see, it would have to be someone you associate with frequently." She tapped her finger against her bottom lip pensively. "Excluding your brother, myself and Winry from the list-."

I interrupted her. "Wait, wait, wait. What makes you so sure it's not Winry?"

Riza looked at me, eyes growing distant for a moment, as if recalling a memory. "Well, Ed, Winry and I have been-."

At the slight blush on her cheeks and the darkened gleam in her eyes, everything clicked into place. "Y-You mean… You and Winry-?" I really couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. My mind was flooded with images that I could've done without. I picked up my glass, downing the remainder of my drink in one gulp.

"Is it really that hard for you to picture Winry with someone like me, Edward?" Riza asked. A playful smirk twisted her lips as she added, "Or maybe you don't wanna picture her with anyone but you."

"I'm not into that," I said bluntly. Then, mentally, I punched myself and ground my teeth in irritation.

"And the short list gets shorter," Riza said triumphantly.

"Goddamnit!" I flagged the bartender over, demanding another refill.

"Really Ed? That's who you're pining over?" Riza was fighting a laugh.

"I'm not pining!" I snapped. "I'm contemplating."

"Like it's that hard for you to gain his attention," she murmured.

I cocked my head to the side, begging her to elaborate with a simple pleading look.

"All you have to do is tell him how you feel. Sometimes he's thick-headed. He doesn't realize what's right under his nose."

I couldn't help it. My mind instantly interpreted her words as a cheap crack about my height. I felt my temper flare. "WHO ARE YOU CALLIN' A MOUSY LITTLE PIPSQUEAK?"

She just laughed, it was melodic. "Calm down, Ed. I never said anything like that."

I dropped my face into my hands and gave a defeated sigh. "I- I'm not good at this kinda thing, y'know? Expressing my feelings."

I heard her give a small sigh before she reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. She tossed it to me along with several napkins from the metal dispenser to her left. "Why don't you write it down?" She suggested. With a light pat on my shoulder, she left me alone to compose my thoughts.

The instant she left, I felt my aura of confidence dissipate. It was replaced by the stomach churning nervousness I had felt for the past three days. I downed my full glass of scotch, capturing the bartender's attention with a command of "Keep 'em comin'."

My pen was poised between the fingers of my automail hand while my flesh hand continuously brought the cold drink to my lips. As the alcohol worked its magic, causing the nervousness to ebb and the confidence to return, I began to write.

The words flowed across the page effortlessly. I even managed to keep the insults at bay. After all, a confession of infatuation should remain insult free.

Toward the end of my confession, feeling dizzy and light-headed, I felt myself sway. Through bleary eyes I looked at what I had written on the napkin. The beginning of the letter was neat and clear. The end of the letter was – well, not so clear.

"The fuck am I doin'?" I slurred as I finished the rest of my drink. "I'm too drunk."

'Writing a love letter? What, am I in middle school? I'm 17 not 12.' I scoffed, marveling at how clear my inner thoughts were.

I stood using the polished, dark wood of the bar to balance once more. Grabbing the love-napkin from the bar, leaving a sizeable tip in its place, I headed for the exit. As I passed the trashcan, I threw the napkin inside.

"Drunk, drunk, drunk," the word rolled off my tongue. I felt the need to say it aloud. "I'm going home." In my alcohol drowned brain, "home" meant the barracks.

( ) ( ) ( )

I leaned back into the soft leather of the booth, swirling the red wine in my glass.

'Come on, Hawkeye, it doesn't take this long to get information outta the kid.' I raked a hand through my hair nervously as I watched them.

I blamed my worries on the alcohol. I mean, what logical reason could I have for worrying about Fullmetal?

'There's no point in denying it,' I thought with a sigh. 'Somewhere along the line, I fell for the shrimp.'

It's not like I planned it. Who would plan to fall for someone like him? Edward was brash, hotheaded, impulsive and short. The height wasn't an issue; it was just another way for me to irritate the pipsqueak. Plus there was the age gap, but hey, the heart wants what it wants.

A sane person would curse God for their misfortune. But the war and years of serving the military took away my sanity – and my belief in improvable concepts like God – long ago.

I snapped myself out of my reverie, putting on my indifferent façade, and sipped what remained of my wine just as Hawkeye made her way back to my table.

"Status report," I commanded with authority, keeping my tone cool and clipped.

Riza saw right through my false indifference and smirked as she said, "It's man trouble."

I'm sure she enjoyed the miserable look that etched into my features. The woman loved tormenting me.

"Did he give you a name?" My voice sounded utterly hopeless. I mentally cursed that little brat for reducing me to this state. I fought the desire to hunt down whoever stole Fullmetal's heart and reduce them to a pile of ashes.

"Yes, sir, but I'm afraid I can't tell you." Riza's smirk morphed into a full-blown smile and I dug my nails into my palm in annoyance.

"I should've expected this. The runt's a catch; good looking, intelligent and a famed Hero of the People. I don't know why I expected him to-." Her hand rested on mine in a calming gesture stopping me from my self-loathing rant.

"Good god, Roy, have you always been this dense?" Her tone was teasing, brown eyes held a gleam of laughter.

"What are you-?" I began, but she interrupted me.

"He's worried about you, moron. He wants to tell you how he feels."

I snorted. "Edward Elric is going to talk about his feelings? Well this should be… Interesting, to say the least."

She slapped me, actually slapped me. It had been a long time since Riza Hawkeye had treated me like her childhood friend instead of her superior officer. I blinked in surprise.

"Hey, Hawkeye what the hell was that for?" My voice sounded childish and whiney. It grated on my nerves.

"This is a big step for him, Roy. You're quite possibly his first love. So stop acting like an insensitive jerk."

I was dumbfounded. All I could do was sit there, mouth agape, and stare at my empty wineglass. "I'm… his first love?" For some reason that thought had never crossed my mind.

"Possibly," she said with a nod before she picked up my glass and headed off to get it refilled.

I chewed my bottom lip in thought. 'Do I really deserve this; to be his first anything?'

The small thud of glass meeting wood interrupted my thoughts.

"I've never seen you doubt anything. Don't start now." Riza commanded as she scooted the glass toward me. "Try not to get too drunk," she warned as she turned to leave. "You need to look after him."

As if she really had to tell me that. I always looked after the Elric brothers. Especially Ed. After all, I was responsible for dragging them into this new form of Hell.

My eyes strayed to the blond sitting at the bar. He had shed his red coat and black jacket leaving a black long-sleeved shirt stretched over his muscular upper body. His usual tight, form-fitting black pants and boots completed his outfit. I gave a nod of approval; even after all he'd been through, he still looked damn good, and I was positive the cocky brat knew it.

The kid was hunched over, seemed to be writing something. Occasionally he would stop for a drink, pause to think for a second, and then he would attack what looked like a napkin with vigor. I resisted the urge to go over and see what he was doing. It was better to watch from afar.

I saw him sway and grab his head with his flesh hand. The alcohol was getting to him which was to be expected since he had consumed a rather large amount. I had to hand it to him; the kid could hold his liquor.

I resisted the urge to offer to walk him home. It was difficult. I had this overwhelming compulsion to help people in need, and seeing as Edward was gripping random objects for support as he made his way to the exit, he was in need.

The shrimp dropped whatever he had been writing into the trashcan by the door, mumbling something about being drunk. I was always a curious man – a trait needed to succeed in alchemy – so after watching him leave, I sauntered over and dug the napkin from the trash.

It appeared to be a rather lengthy letter. I leaned against the cool white wall behind me as I read the flowing script:

Mustang,

First of all, I wanted to tell you Happy Valentine's Day. Yeah, I know I'm late, okay? Sorry.

There's something I've wanted to tell you for a while now, but there's never really been a good time what with all the shit I've had to go through. But you know all about that, so there's no point in explaining. Did I mention how freeing it is that you know all about my past? It's great having nothing to hide.

Anyway, I'm getting off topic. I'm a little drunk, y'know?

So, I wanna tell you something. I realized it a long time ago, last year if you wanna be specific. I like you. It's not love or anything, more like infatuation. But I have this theory that infatuation turns to love if you nurture it properly. I have to study it more to be sure. Not that I'm trying to use you in an experiment or anything – and you'd better wipe that goddamn smirk off your face, bastard.

From this point, the letter gets a little sloppy, but I think it talked about when the crush arose. I gather that it happened the very first time he saw me because I could make out the words 'train hijacking' and something about my Flame Alchemy. The words that were mixed in kind of congealed into an unintelligible mess. It didn't matter; I knew all I needed to.

My smirk morphed into a huge smile as I pushed away from the wall. My destination: The barracks at Central Command.

( ) ( ) ( )

It was at times like these that I really hated being a Military Dog. If I wasn't chained to the state, I could be back home in Risembool with Alphonse and Winry. I could talk to them about my feelings instead of getting intoxicated. As it was, all I could do was shuffle back to the barracks.

A cool breeze made the winter night even colder and the full moon lit my path. I grabbed lamp posts and trees to steady myself along the way. The towering building of Central Command was a welcomed sight. I staggered through the glass double doors, giving a half-wave to the perky girl manning the front desk, and stumbled to the entrance of the stairs.

I managed to make it up three flights and only tripped once.

"One, two, three, four," I counted doors and paid absolutely no attention to the numbers emblazoned on them. I was confident that this approach would lead me to the correct room.

My boots scuffed along the dark gray tile of the hall. The corridor was quiet and this made me notice the late hour. I stopped in front of a dark wooden door, fumbled for the key in my pocket and stuffed it in the lock.

The door opened with a soft click and a creak as I stepped inside. I didn't bother turning on the light, just walked over to the small bed in the corner. I flopped down onto the mattress and groaned as I felt every spring.

"Gotta remember to request better…" I wanted to say 'sleeping accommodations,' but my mouth couldn't worm the words. Instead, I settled for, "Beds."

My eyes slipped closed, the alcohol and silence lulled me to sleep. I was right on the edge, right between conscious and subconscious, when a knock echoed through the room.

I groaned and threw a pillow over my head. I was content to ignore it.

( ) ( ) ( )

I stayed in the shadows, following the pipsqueak's every move. There was no need to hide, really, the kid was too far gone to notice me. I just wanted to practice stealth.

When we entered the barracks, I motioned for the girl at the front desk to keep quiet; she was in the process of shouting my name and leaping over the desk. Sometimes I cursed my ability to attract women. Only sometimes.

I watched the kid stumble up the stairs, remained several steps behind him. Usually, those golden eyes of his were sharp, never missed anything. Alcohol should be kept far away from Edward Elric.

The numbers he mumbled as he walked down the dimly lit hallway didn't match the room numbers, so I was amazed when he found the right room. I waited a few minutes after he had staggered into the dark room, then I sucked in a breath before knocking.

Why I was suddenly so nervous I couldn't say. This wasn't exactly a common occurrence for me; I had perfected the art of the "love 'em and leave 'em" philosophy. Now, here I was, actually considering making some type of committed relationship. Again I cursed the shrimp for reducing me to this state.

When, after a few minutes, there was no answer, I opened the door. Patience was never my strong suit.

( ) ( ) ( )

As the door creaked open, causing light to flood in, I sluggishly rolled over and tossed the pillow away. I was in no shape or mood to fight off whatever prick decided to interrupt my sleep.

"Well, hello there, Fullmetal."

I felt my brows furrow in confusion. I was trying to figure out if the bastard was real or a hallucination. The way the light was playing in his hair, reflecting off his black suit and purple tie, made me question reality.

"W-what the-? What are-?" All I could do was stutter and blink in surprise.

"I thought I should return this," he said with a smirk as he closed the door behind him. My gaze flicked to his hand, he held my black jacket and red coat.

"So that's why I was so cold…" I murmured remembering the chill I felt outside.

He tossed the black and red fabric to some undisclosed corner of the room and stepped forward. That damn smirk was confident and sure. For some reason, my buzz fled and the nervousness came back with a vengeance.

( ) ( ) ( )

That look of confusion that played across Edward's face was… Adorable, for lack of a better word. He seemed to be trying to decide if I was real or a product of his imagination. The second he deemed me real, I watched those bleary golden eyes become clear.

'So he's finally sobering up,' I thought as my smirk widened. That was all the motivation I needed; I made the first move.

"So, I read an interesting letter earlier." My voice was low – almost purring – a technique I had perfected from years of skirt chasing.

His eyes widened in shock, and his fingers wrung light green bedding nervously. "You dumpster dive now?" His tone held none of the nervousness his body language exuded, and a cheeky smirk managed to appear on his lips.

"Something like that," I chuckled. "Care to test this theory of yours?" I gave him a smoldering gaze, another technique that drove the ladies wild. Not that I was comparing Edward to a woman; nothing was feminine about the runt save his hair.

He gulped, a little nervousness crept into his voice as he said, "W-what did you have in mind?"

By this point, I was looming over him – I mean, I always loomed over him since he was so short, but that's beside the point – so it was a simple matter of leaning down and capturing his lips.

( ) ( ) ( )

The scent of gunpowder, cedar and the tang of wine invaded my sense of taste and smell. It overpowered everything, made me dizzier than the alcohol ever had. His lips were demanding and hungry against mine, and I opened my mouth without hesitation.

When his tongue tangled with mine, everything kind of faded around me. It was like I had dropped into a dark abyss where all that existed was the warmth of his body against mine, the feel of his tongue tracing the inside of my mouth.

'When did I become so cliché and cheesy?' If Roy's lips weren't pressed against mine, I would've snorted.

I was vaguely aware of my fingers moving; discarding the silky purple tie, tugging away the jacket and vest and coaxing the white dress shirt off his body. I was anxious – although I'd deny that later – to run my fingers along his creamy alabaster skin.

A whine of protest bubbled up from my throat when his lips left mine. I cursed Mustang for reducing me to a puddle of begging need. My whine quickly switched to a moan of pleasure when his teeth bit down on my pulse.

( ) ( ) ( )

I reveled in the feeling of his fingers on my skin. The steel digits made me shiver, but it was a feeling that I could see myself getting used to. I distracted myself by letting my lips trail down to his pulse, nibbling the peach skin and taking even more pleasure in bringing moans from his lips.

I wasn't satisfied with just exploring the visible skin. His fingers laced into my hair when I began to undress him. Deftly, I slid the black shirt over his head and began to map the muscled abdomen.

I brought my mouth down, lips ghosting over the stunningly soft skin of his chest. My tongue lapped at the nipple that wasn't trapped under steel, and Ed arched his back as I sucked it to a hardened ball.

"Roy." It was a whisper, but it echoed loudly in my head and drove me on in my exploration.

Traveling further, I reached his abdomen. My tongue flickered around his navel, fingers danced along his ribs. I gazed up at him, overcome with the urge to watch his facial expressions, and my eyes grew darker when I took in his appearance.

His cheeks were stained with a deep crimson blush. Golden eyes were glazed over and half-lidded. His lips were parted; my name was mixed in with the small pants and soft moans that filled the air.

I felt my trousers tighten. My arousal strained against the fabric. Intense need washed through my body in waves, and I moved my fingers to Ed's pants. I tugged away the brown belt and tossed it to the floor. Then, just as quickly, I undid the snap on the tight black leather.

( ) ( ) ( )

My senses were clouded. I was aware of Roy's name rolling off my tongue, lost in the feel of his fingers and mouth on my body. I snapped to alertness when I felt him slide my boxers to the floor where I assumed the rest of our clothes were.

I quirked a brow, gave him a questioning look through half-lidded eyes. I wanted to ask him a question, but I couldn't catch my breath to form words.

For once, the bastard smiled instead of smirked. "Just relax, Edward. I know what I'm doing, I promise." His voice was a low purr.

"That voice drives all the girls wild, huh?" My tone was cocky, marred only by my ragged breathing.

"Are you saying it doesn't do anything for you?" He asked as his fingers grazed my cock. "Your manhood begs to differ." These words ghosted over my pulsating erection and I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

"Bastard," I growled.

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively.

This time, I couldn't bite back the moan when his lips made contact with my heated flesh. The feeling of his lips on my manhood was… Well, even my brilliant mind couldn't put it into words. He lapped at my penis with gusto, covered every inch of it, and all I could do was gasp "Roy," which caused him to chuckle. Then I was reduced to a quivering mess as those vibrations ran through me.

I felt a rush of pressure, felt my muscles clench, and I screwed my eyes shut. My automail fingers grabbed a handful of jet black locks, the nails of my flesh hand dug into his shoulder and traveled down his back in angry red lines. I came hard and fast, every drop was swallowed willingly.

"Mustang," I panted as the pleasure sizzled on my skin.

( ) ( ) ( )

Edward's cum wasn't the bitter taste I had expected. The white substance that slid down my throat was almost sweet.

'That sounds so… Well, it's beyond cliché.' My arousal straining against constricting fabric prevented me from contemplating my descent into love-sick manhood.

While the kid was still panting, still recovering from his orgasm, I coated two digits with saliva. My lips pressed against his inner thigh, leaving soft kisses on heated skin, as my slickened fingers moved to his entrance. I heard him give a low hiss of discomfort when my index finger slipped past the ring of muscle.

"It's a necessary evil, Fullmetal." I murmured soothingly against his skin. I slipped in another finger.

"Sadist," he ground out between clenched teeth as I stretched him.

"I've been called worse," I said, flashing a disarming smile.

Whatever comeback he had was lost in a gasp.

I smirked, 'There it is.' The elusive sweet spot.

When the preparation was finished, I made my way up his body. My lips found his as I positioned myself at his entrance.

The slip into his mouth was simultaneous with the slip into his most private area. I let out a pleased moan at the tightness. It was quite possibly the closest thing I'd ever see to heaven.

'And the cheesiness continues.'

I pushed all the way into the tight opening, slowly, and my mind instantly fogged with intense pleasure. It took all my willpower to hold myself back, to let him adjust instead of just pounding him senseless.

After a few seconds, he said, "What are you waiting for, bastard?"

"Giving you time to-." I began to explain.

"This pain's nothing."

'Compared to everything he's had to endure, I suppose it isn't.'

Without hesitation, I pulled almost completely out only to thrust back in. I angled my hips so that I hit his prostate on the first try. I fused my lips with his, swallowing up the moan that bubbled in his throat, and continued to thrust into him.

My fingers worked to untangle his braid. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair. I had the urge to tangle and pull it while I pleasured him. The vibrant blond tendrils were soft and silky, cascading past his shoulders in waves.

I moved my free hand, wrapped my fingers around his engorged penis, and ran along his shaft. I started from the base, traveled to the head, increasing speed and pressure as my thrusts became quicker.

I'd never felt this amount of pleasure, never had the urge to thoroughly please a lover until now. It was odd and it made my head spin. Ed's fingernails dug into my back again, and I bit my bottom lip as every muscle in my body clenched. My eyes rolled back in my head as my orgasm approached.

As I tipped over the edge, began to fall into the abyss, I gave Ed's rigid organ a hard jerk. Only when I felt the warm liquid ooze over my fingers did I let go.

"Edward." It wasn't a shout, really, but his name left my mouth more than once as I filled him. My seed shot deep into him, and it intensified the pleasure.

When I regained my wits, caught my breath and opened my eyes, I pulled out of him. I kissed him again, slow and tender, before I broke away.

My eyes were questioning as I asked, "Wanna try nurturing it?"

( ) ( ) ( )

My mind couldn't comprehend anything. I knew he was speaking, heard his baritone voice in my ear, but I couldn't understand.

"Sorry. What?" I shook my head and tried to pay attention.

He just smiled. His features were soft, coal eyes amused and gentle. It was strange, but it was a sight I could get used to.

"Your infatuation with me," Roy explained slowly. "Do you want to nurture it, see what happens?"

Really, what I felt for Roy Mustang was more than infatuation, but I wasn't about to tell him that. So, I gave him a sultry grin, glanced at him from under my lashes and said, "Sure, I've got nothing better to do."

He smiled and kissed me again. I felt what little sense I had get swept away.

( ) ( ) ( )

The End!

AN: Happy late Valentine's Day! And yes, I mix both the original series with Brotherhood. Deal with it.