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Foolish For You
Chapter One
Pique My Curiosity

- mirage -

Sitting at his mahogany desk, Mustang lifted a hand to his temple and began massaging with frustration, before sighing out, "Tell me, and be honest." He dropped his hand back to his accustomed throne, and lifted his gaze to Alphonse's youthful face. "Are you going to approach enemies on our battle field with that...lost puppy dog expression Alphonse?"

Alphonse's tender seventeen, almost eighteen year old, appearance became slightly worse. Below the boy's short-cropped blonde hair, and between his empathetic golden eyes, a tiny crease appeared.

"Because if you are," Mustang continued. "I will move you to the front lines, where you can head outward into No Man's Land, and politely ask our enemy to return home." Mustang leaned back in his chair. It gave a protesting squeak but his lumbar was loudly in favor. "I am certain they'll do so, once they see your convincing face."

Alphonse was quiet with uncertainty. The Colonel seemed annoyed, but not too annoyed. "I am sorry sir," Alphonse said. He tightened his stance, clutching his State Alchemist watch. In his mind he tried to envision the word bastard in all capitals written across Mustang's chest where Ed said it belonged, but he couldn't get it to fit. "I—I'll try to make, meaner expressions from here on out."

Mustang grumbled a composed baritone chuckle, and then cleared his throat in tardy attempt to hide it politely. He gave his gloved hand an absent toss, as if batting away a fly, and it moved the topic along. "Understood, do you feel confident with your place here, as a soldier? Your test scores were very good." Alphonse's state test scores were very very good. "With your mission?" Mustang gestured to the manila folder waiting on his desk.

"It's my first one sir."

"How is your confidence?"

"I feel confident in myself so...yes Colonel." Alphonse took the folder with a smile.

Mustang gave another sigh, something between normal fatigue and relief. "You are so much easier to get along with than your brother." A faint smile of pride lifted the corner of Alphonse's mouth, but he made no comment. "Dismissed," Mustang said, giving a short departing nod. Alphonse left trotting for the door wearing Amestris's traditional military blues below a white dress shirt. Hand on the doorknob Mustang called in afterthought, "Alphonse?" and the boy stopped and looked back. "By the way, where is your brother?" Suddenly, Mustang realized he hadn't seen or heard the Fullmetal Alchemist in several days.

"Out trying to collect information on the new Marsisisms science," Alphonse said, breaking wide innocent smile. "I heard you wouldn't tell him anything."

"You heard right," Mustang said angrily. "I'll look forward to your report."

Alphonse departed happily, and waved to Hawkeye as she entered. She looked alert in the morning hours. The sun which shown through Mustang's back window had not yet reached the floor, pressing the release of a late-day coffee break back yet a few more hours.

"Sir, your morning meeting tomorrow has been cancelled," Hawkeye reported.

Mustang smiled. "Really."

"And I have the Walker files for you." She extended a fat folder.

Mustang's smile widened. He took the folder and sat up. "Sometimes I think someone up there likes me Hawkeye," Mustang said, flipping through the wealth of pages. "Our latest information and possible contact in the West, the Marsisis cases, these are classified, yes?"

"Of course."

"Good, see to it all document access travels through me." Mustang shut the folder and stood up. "I won't have nosy alchemists pushing their noses where they don't go." He scooped the folder up and tucked it under his arm. "I am taking this home and I am stopping my progress at five sharp. I order you to do the same." He gave her a wink as he skirted his desk, and she released an exhale in complaint.

Sounding skeptical Hawkeye asked, "But you are going to work on that until five, right sir?" Mustang left the office keeping his smile and his silence. "Right sir!" she called after him. He lifted a hand in a stationary wave and departed without answering. It was always best to leave these sorts of things a mystery.

It was just blossoming into spring, and the air smelled of sweet buds and damp soil. It had been raining periodically throughout the day, mixing sudden bursts of downfall with bursts of sunshine. Mustang rolled the car windows down, opened the front of his uniform, tossed his badge aside, and hit the road going eighteen above the speed limit. Home was not far away, nor was home overly fancy. A two level colonial, owned by the military, had been his off-shift station since he'd been in Central. It was an older house, and carried style and tradition in the ways of fatter trim and firmer doors than currently on the market. Mustang had the inside furnished well, but with nothing so lavish or so spectacular his interior would be well remembered by his guests, thank the military budget.

With a heavy foot and the back parking sticker of a Colonel, home was only fifteen minutes away at his speed. He arrived, kicked off his boots, put on some tea, and tossed his folder down on his desk. The week had been littered with meetings, and with nothing today and nothing tomorrow morning, he was getting out of the office for eight hours. This afternoon's dessert was Bach, and he started with his red pen after only twenty minuets of shirking. The Lieutenant would be so proud.

At five on the dot Mustang tossed his red pen aside, sorted the wealth of field notes, crime photos, and witness statements, back into order, and went in search of food. It was a luxury he did not readily have on hand, because he did not readily grocery shop. In fact he despised the solo chore of weaving travel through an edible maze, struggling to guess at his future cravings, so pickings were slim.

At ten of six with no meal in sight, the phone began ringing and Mustang snatched it. Head still in the pantry, he gave a customary, "Hello," and was met with the sound of a long and frustrated exhale. He righted himself from the near empty shelf of condiments, and while staring at a jar of pickles, repeated, "Hello?"

"Are," the caller said, voice hard to identify. "Are you home?"

"Identify yourself." He had answered his home number, hadn't he?

"I thought you dislodged the stick after five Colonel."

With unexpected surprise the caller became familiar. "Fullmetal?"

"Sounds like it's still firmly up there."

"What are you calling me for?" Mustang asked, laying a hand on his growling stomach. "I am a very busy man Fullmetal." Ed groaned. "And I am doing important things right now."

"Do you know where Lankings is?" Ed asked, becoming miserable.

"Fullmetal."

"It's a simple geological question," Ed snapped, becoming angry. "You either do, or you don't."

"Yes, I know where it is," Mustang said. "What does that have to do with anything?" He shut the pantry door and moved to the near empty refrigerator.

"Come pick me up."

Mustang opened the refrigerator door and stalled. "What?" He glanced back to the jar of pickles.

"You heard me!" Ed snapped, what chivalry there was disappearing rapidly. "You losing your hearing in your old age? Come pick me up, I said!" The phone moved, and scuffle sounds were quick as Ed turned it around, and hung it up in a loud clang to the self-muttered, "What a freaking dick head."

Mustang was left standing in his kitchen debating whether or not he should consider the call serious. He phoned Headquarters, retrieved the number for the Elric barrack dorm and called. There was no answer and so he wandered upstairs, changed into some black slacks and a comfortable dress shirt, and left.

Lankings was a downtown street twenty five minutes away, seventeen when speeding, and located in what most soldiers poetically called, Shit-ral. It was a long straight artery of underfunded cracked and sinking sidewalks, with buildings in worse shape. The zoning was industrial, but business had moved out long ago. As Amestris's most influential and impacting metropolis, Central's fine establishments and military dominance still managed to cradled the small fifteen block decay of the old and unused. Driving slowly, Mustang started at the top and worked his way down watching for a red beckon among the damp faded storefronts and graffiti.

It came, ten minutes up, on an old bus stop bench before a boarded up liquor shop, and high dilapidated fencing closing off the alley and yard to what appeared to have once been an office building. With the day's rain everything was darker in color, and scattered puddles filled the worn and slumped areas of concrete.

Ed's blood-red coat was visible below a large opened newspaper, and Mustang pulled to the curb and rolled down the window with a dull glare. Chauffeur were we now?

"This might have been a reasonable request if we were still twelve," Mustang said, tone entirely flat. "Cabs too expensive for State Alchemists these days?"

Ed shot up like a bullet, and angrily threw the newspaper aside. He ignored the response verbally, but he ripped the car door open and collapsed into the passenger side with obvious irritation.

Ed slammed the door behind him and said, "Drive please."

Mustang swept his eyes over Ed's nineteen year old body with immediate disgust. More than just a single state alchemist had entered the car, and the first offensive variable was water. "You're wet!" Mustang said, indicating Ed's soaking body with a waving hand of outrage.

"It rained," Ed said, bangs in his face hiding his expression.

"You're wet in my car!" This was the real problem.

"Again, it rained." Ed kept his face averted.

Mustang turned back to the steering wheel with a scowl, feeling the familiar office frustration that came when Ed ritually repeated facts his little adolescent scientist-brain did not want to step around. Mustang began to drive the same way he often laid one report down and picked up another. He had learned to choose his battles with Fullmetal because most of everything was a battle, and quite simply, there was no prize to be won for all the anguish spent. Ed was open combat, and the enemy line was never taken, and never moved.

Then the second variable appeared in a soft kerosene scent, and Mustang closed his eyes with brief agitation, and said, "You smell funny."

Ed was slouched in his seat, and gave a small uncomfortable shift of his shoulders. Wet, his bangs were long golden censors on his profile, blocking out the eyes and most of the frowning mouth. Unsure what to say, Ed floundered for a moment, before finding sarcasm and landing a quick, "Excuse me."

"What is it?" Mustang asked, glancing over. "You smell flammable." If it was one thing he had a knack for smelling, it was things that would burn. "You are in the car of the Flame Alchemist," he teased, flashing a wry smile in Ed's direction, but Ed didn't respond. He didn't move, and suddenly it was very apparent there was a reason. "Why are you hiding your face?" Mustang demanded, dropping to a tone of accusation.

"I am not hiding anything."

"Fullmetal."

"Roy Mustang."

Mustang hit the brakes, jerking them to a graceless halt in the middle of the empty road. The force caused him to lean forward, and Ed's automail hand shot out and braced against the dash board, before he floored into anger.

"You can't just stop here! This is the middle of the road Mustang!" Ed yelled, gesturing adamantly to the open lanes surrounding them. "What the heck is this crap! Haven't you learned how to drive in the centuries you've been out here kicking up dust!" Ed's automail hand gave the dashboard a quick double tap, signaling a take-off, but Mustang ignored it. He remained silent, and let the jokes sail past. Ed was not good at being ignored, and even worse at winning this game. It was their most frequent past time, and came when Mustang laid down a report, but deliberately did not pick up the next.

Sometimes, as Roy required it, young alchemists were forced to discuss things they did not want to.

"Roy, drive!" Ed yelled.

"Did I ask you a question?"

"We're idling in an open road! You're going to get a ticket. You're going to be towed." Ed was taking a new approach. "I am not paying for any of that."

"And when I ask a question…"

"All right!" Ed exclaimed. "Fine! I recede, hit the gas!" Mustang resumed driving. "Take me home please."

"What is the address? And why am I driving you home?"

Ed rattled off the generic military address and added, "I needed a ride."

"Why didn't you call a cab?" Ed didn't answer. "Why didn't you call your brother?"

"He didn't answer the phone."

Okay, two of three, so far so good. "Why are you hiding your face?"

"I am modest."

Mustang hit the brakes and stopped them. The car behind them imitated, brakes squealing, and then swung into the open right lane honking and flipping them off.

Ed watched this with immense displeasure, and muttered, "Are you freaking kidding."

Mustang had made it clear to Ed, silence required submission, and Ed had learned this on the third day of the second week he wore his alchemist chain. On that day, when Ed was politely silent to avoid a question, Roy let the silence continue for twenty minutes. When Ed tried to sit, or speak further, Mustang stopped him. So Ed learned he was grounded if he refused direction, and twelve and tired, gave up after forty-five minutes of standing stationary before Mustang's desk, and answered.

Mustang was not happy with slow obedience, and handed Ed's neat report back and ordered it be rewritten. When Ed demanded to know why, Roy said it looked sloppy. He admitted his eyes had likely grown tired over the last forty-five minutes, and the report may not be sloppy, but he preferred to err on the side of caution.

That was the last day Ed tested the waters with his silence, and with the car idling, Ed reluctantly turned to Mustang and swiped his bangs back from his face with a wet gloved hand. He believed the Colonel would keep them in the middle of an active lane until satisfied, but that threat did not make submission any friendlier.

Ed's look was not kind. It was hostile, and rude with disgust, but Mustang didn't notice the tense brow, and exaggerated frown. All he saw was Ed's swollen red jaw, and bloody lip.

"What happened?" Mustang asked, resuming their drive.

"I was jumped."

This sounded asinine, and sarcastically Mustang said, "Well, most soldiers avoid this section because the unruly civilians, although not trained in the ways of military combat, are known to take on skilled state alchemists and win."

Ed gave his nose a heavy wipe, and it smeared a dab of blood across his glove. "You don't have to be a dick about it," Ed said. "I am not going to hit a civilian with a metal arm. I just needed a ride." Ed gave Mustang an irritable glance seeking a truce. "Do you mind if we stop at a gas station or something? I want to wash my face."

"Why would anyone jump you?"

"How should I know!" Ed tipped his head back before shifting his weight with a deep wince.

"You're not even carrying anything," Mustang said, beginning to smile. Ed was glaring at the car ceiling severely annoyed. "Did they have a thing for red coats?" Mustang laughed softly at his own joke.

"Did they have a thing for red coats," Ed mocked in a bitterly silly voice. Ed lifted a hand to his automail shoulder and began rubbing it. "Aren't you just hysterical." Mustang continued his quiet laugh. "If I knew why, I would have defended myself better." Mustang hit the blinker as the first well-kept gas station came into sight. Shit-ral was disappearing into a rear view skyline of decrepit gray concrete and steel, and the downtown industrial section was opening.

When they parked Ed climbed out after scrubbing at his face, and Mustang followed. The entrance door jingled, and the shop was small with a few snack aisles and one cashier. Ed left in route to the easily identified men's room, and Mustang bought a single packaged muffin and coffee to hold him over. Dinner wasn't going to magically appear at his place unfortunately.

After adding cream and sugar, opening the muffin and devouring half, impatience appeared, and Mustang left to the dim and grimy men's room and pressed the door open with his shoulder.

Ed was at the first sink, stripped out of his jacket, and washing his face with paper towel before lifting his shirt and cleaning his stomach as well. Finding this odd, Mustang stopped chewing, and studied Ed's delicate motions. The boy was circling around his belly button as if his stomach was a large open wound.

With a tone of dark accusation Mustang said, "Fullmetal."

Ed yanked his shirt down for privacy and looked up at Mustang through the mirror. "Don't sneak up on people!" Ed snapped, turning the sink off and wiggling back into his wet coat. Ed noticed the suspicious expression and dropped his gaze with a fast, "I am muddy, and I don't like mud." Before lifting it wearing a new sarcastic smile, "And I am not opposed to hitting military personnel with the metal arm, so don't creep up on me."

Mustang took a large bite of his muffin and said, "Who's creeping?"

Ed cleaned up fast, and with the blood wiped away, and his bangs in order, looked nearly untouched. He bought a bottle of water and held it to his jaw like an ice pack as they drove, and the car smelled like Mustang's hazelnut coffee.

The entrance to the military's barracks' complex was similar to that of Central's apartments. The single drive gave way to several closely spaced buildings with no more than six floors each. There was a wealth of small parking lots, cars of various financial means, and the signs of young soldiers the way college campuses had signs of young students.

Mustang had assigned Ed his barrack with thought to age consideration. Ed's barrack was new recruits, and young soldiers, and despite the fact Ed and Alphonse were now both alchemists, to his knowledge they were on good terms with their dimmer-witted, but energetic, neighbors.

Mustang pulled to the curb outside the building Ed indicated, and Ed grasped the door handle and popped the door before asking, "Can you wait here for a second?"

"No," Mustang said irritably.

"I just want to get you gas money," Ed said. Mustang gave Ed a cold look. "I don't want to be in your debt." Ed stepped out and slammed the car door. He gave a stretch, cracking his back with a tight wince, before adding, "It will take two seconds!"

Reluctantly Mustang parked and followed Ed into building six and up two flights of stairs to room 28 where Ed unlocked his apartment slouched over and groaning. Mustang ignored this, and Ed held the door for them both before slamming it. "Alphonse!" Ed called into the apartment, beginning the task of wedging out of his boots. "I am back!"

Mustang stood on the entrance mat surveying the fully furnished dorm. The military provided basic collections, and the brothers had added nothing to the living room set of two couches, two lamps, and two end tables. Built of neutral colors, the barrack design, like most Central buildings, was alchemically constructed, and therefore more luxurious than the manual counterparts. The ceilings were high nine foot, and the living room a large open hub. In every barrack it was the central room, with a bathroom and kitchen off the left, and bedrooms and closet off the back.

When Edward was assigned his dorm Alphonse was in the armor, so it was a one bedroom. Two bedroom dorms were larger, and the waiting list was long, so since Alphonse's return to the flesh several years ago, they had never moved.

Alphonse exited the bedroom with a friendly, "Nii-san, where have you…" before silencing with poorly hidden shock on sight of Mustang. He stood out in the casual personal space like a police officer. "Oh," Alphonse said, struggling from surprise to wobbling manners. "Hello Colonel, I wasn't expecting any guests." Alphonse was dressed in fair colored sports pants and a tee shirt. He looked more comfortable, and far younger, than Mustang had ever seen him.

"It was rather unexpected," Mustang said, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Completely unplanned," Ed said dryly, managing free of his boots and losing an inch in height. "The Colonel just happened to be in the neighborhood and gave me a lift." Ed hooked his thumb toward Roy while rubbing his automail shoulder. "Can you give him some gas money?" Ed asked, leaving to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Roy looked to the closed door and sighed before returning his gaze to Alphonse. "It seems your brother got into a bit of trouble. It wasn't horribly inconvenient to give him a ride."

Alphonse glanced suspiciously to the closed bathroom door with word of trouble. "I hope he wasn't too much of an inconvenience," Alphonse said, already certain Ed was. "Nii-san?" Alphonse walked to the bathroom door and knocked loudly. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a bath!" On cue the tub turned on.

"Are you just going to leave the Colonel out here?" Alphonse asked, frustrated Ed's abandonment carelessly thrust etiquette entirely onto his shoulders.

With insult Ed yelled a loud, "No!" before adding, "pay him gas money and tell him to leave!" Alphonse groaned a little and looked over at Mustang, who stood within earshot.

"Well Colonel," Alphonse said, recovering with graceful familiarity only a life as Edward Elrics's younger brother yielded. "Since I don't know how far you drove him, how about you stay for dinner?" Alphonse offered a kind smile, and Mustang raised his eyebrows with bored intrigue.

Stay? Stay for dinner? Mustang was certainly hungry enough, but somehow this felt nervously like a conflict of interest. It was one thing to share drinks with subordinates in public places, and another to follow them home.

"It's no trouble," Alphonse said, sensing the hesitation. Although Mustang had shared it with no one, through the years he had carefully made certain no position of odd light, or seclusion, ever developed between him and Ed. Ed came to him as a young boy, and he wasn't married. He didn't want to go down that road. "It's really no trouble," Alphonse said again. "I am sure we interrupted yours."

Mustang envisioned his empty refrigerator, and gave in. "Sure, I appreciate the invitation."

Alphonse was pleased, and left for the kitchen calling back a happy, "Great! But I am not going to lie, I am not a very good cook."

Mustang slipped from his shoes and set his coat on the back of the couch before entering the kitchen. It was a very tight room with counters hugging the back corners, and a small table squeezed in. On the stove was a small bubbling pot and Alphonse stood in front of it. "Make yourself at home." Alphonse gestured to the kitchen table littered with papers full of small chicken scratch writing Mustang recognized from Ed. "I told him to pick it up or I'd use it as a table cloth," Alphonse said, sounding more exhausted than playful. "Sometimes," Alphonse said, turning toward the wall closest to the bathroom and raising his voice, "we're not very neat!"

Mustang didn't think Ed would hear this, but he did. Something slammed down in the bathroom and Ed yelled back. The words were muffled, but the tone was clear enough, and Alphonse gave a triumphant snort.

"Tell me Alphonse," Mustang said, stepping up to the table and looking at the notes. All of it Marsisisms. "Why does your brother have an interest in this?" he asked, picking up a single sheet of loose leaf. "He's restored your body."

Staring into the pot Alphonse smiled warmly, and said, "I promised I would restore his. We won't stop looking for a way until we do. Nii-san wants to learn everything he can about Alchemy. That's what he does. Ever since..." Alphonse paused for a moment and Mustang set the paper down. "One day, after everything, directly after, nii-san knew more than he did before. He understood things I couldn't. He's been a genius ever since, and he's insatiable." Alphonse turned to Mustang with another soft smile, and Mustang considered the word insatiable. It was a perfect word for Fullmetal.

"It must be very hard living like that," Mustang said, sharing honestly. Alphonse didn't answer, and Mustang changed topics quickly. "Thank you for inviting me for dinner. What are you serving?"

"Spaghetti and meatballs. I planned to make a salad, but didn't have a chance. I am not very good at making salads either, but I am getting better," Alphonse said, before looking up when they heard the bathroom door open. Ed trudged by to the beat of alternating flesh and metal steps wearing a towel with a second over his head destroying his peripheral vision. He said only one thing as he passed the kitchen doorway.

"Alphonse, we're out of conditioner."

Alphonse glanced nervously at Mustang, and Mustang understood at once Ed was not aware he was still in the apartment. Much of Alphonse's expression looked nervously guilty, as if he should have done something to warn Ed before letting him walk around half-naked, and he called out a quick, "Ah, nii-san?"

Mustang dropped his gaze to Ed's notes feeling equally uncomfortable. Staying for dinner was not supposed to branch further into personal domestic activity. Having Ed so insufficiently dressed was uncommon. He was the boy's commanding officer. He didn't attend military seminars, training drills, general horsing-around, or shower with the kid like the other soldiers, for bonding. He gave Ed instruction, and coached the boy into high performance. It felt much like iron work, Ed was an emotionally hot item, and he as the blacksmith, had to beat him into shape, confident he could make something the world would envy. For seven years he had the boy in his hand, and for seven years the beating had continued. Now Ed was nineteen, taller, lanky, and chiseled with self-made battle scars. The wide inquisitive eyes of his twelve year old self, had gone lazy with sarcasm, and the boy's once floundering mouth was in arrogant overdrive. He was a good soldier, fantastic alchemist, and wearing a towel, suddenly looked more like a young man than a child. Roy felt the years sneak up and ambush him. Was it really that long ago the now easily pocketed watch was so heavy in that tiny hand?

"Nii-san!" Alphonse called, when Ed continued into the bedroom, completely at ease with his marred and tiny body, and comfortable in his home with nothing in the horizon to fight. "About the Colonel!"

"Yeah, I called him earlier!" Ed said. "I got stranded downtown and didn't want you to worry. It was nothing serious, I needed a ride and you didn't pick up." Ed sounded reassuring until this last part, which was given more of a scolding tone. Couldn't you have picked up the phone?

Alphonse left the sauce pot with a sigh and opened a near cabinet for spices. "I was asleep nii-san." Alphonse's tone said: Can't a guy get some sleep?

"Yeah well!" Ed snapped. "I had to call the freaking Colonel and have him come and get me! I realized someone else should probably see the stupid area, and I was left with him!"

Mustang sat down at the kitchen table and watched Alphonse begin seasoning his tomato sauce.

"I didn't think he was going to come!" Ed said. Mustang smiled discretely. "Said he was busy, and then sounded mad!"

"I wasn't mad," Mustang told Alphonse. Alphonse laughed.

"Anyway," Ed called from the bedroom, approaching in fast footsteps. "My automail is freaking killing me with the dampness." Ed entered the kitchen in black, wearing a tight tee shirt and loose shorts, looking happy. He was still talking, and managed a fast, "Do you think you could…" before the sight of Mustang sitting at the table hit him like a truck. The pleasant expression, calm demeanor, and even basic communication was gone in the collision. Ed gave two rapid blinks and physically stiffened with understanding everything spoken since he arrived home, was indirectly said to the Colonel. Struggling with embarrassment, Ed forced an irritated grin and said, "Nice to see you Colonel."

Mustang returned the smile. "Edward, you clean up nicely outside of work."

Ed's smile tightened, and he sent an aggressive eye flare to Alphonse.

"I invited him for dinner," Alphonse said, ignoring Ed's vertical rigor mortis. "I tried to tell you he was here, but you didn't give me the chance."

"No big deal," Ed lied, sounding annoyed. He went to Alphonse's side and looked into the cooking pot. "Spaghetti, huh?" Then he sunk into one of the kitchen chairs looking relieved to be off his feet, before noticing the note covered table. Immediately uncomfortable, Ed jerked up with new energy and began picking up his work with speed and intensity.

Alphonse carried the pot to the table with a smile. "We should have you over more often Colonel," Alphonse teased. "We'd have a cleaner place." Alphonse set the pot on the table and gave Ed a discrete motivating kick, soliciting help. "We're not keeping you from anything, are we?" Alphonse asked, leaving for dishes.

Ed piled his notes into a heap, and moved them on top of the refrigerator.

"I stopped my paperwork at five, so outside of my own dinner arrangements, no," Mustang said, taking the plate Alphonse offered. "Thank you again for inviting me." Ed took the silverware and set two place settings before handing Mustang his.

With dishes on the table, Ed added a water pitcher, pile of napkins, and sunk back into his chair looking relieved, albeit tired. Along his bottom lip and chin was a small scrape, nothing more than a bit of red lines, and Mustang was surprised it hid so easily.

"What's on your desk these days, Mustang?" Ed asked, eagerly serving himself spaghetti from the pot Alphonse had set out.

"Our murder rate has spiked recently, with a small series of cases we believe are connected. They aren't big news, but they've been enough to cause a bit of fuss," Mustang said, waiting with Alphonse for Ed to finish. As soon as Ed was done Alphonse gestured for Mustang to serve himself wishing Ed had remembered guests should be served first. "All of the victims are individuals who won't be missed." Mustang filled his plate before handing the serving utensils to Alphonse. "But we have an interest in the killer so we're monitoring the case closely."

Ed ate like the starving.

"What's causing the military to monitor the cases?" Alphonse asked, serving his own plate before pouring water into all three cups.

"We have reason to believe he may be an alchemist," Mustang said, swirling a forkful of pasta. "A skilled alchemist."

Ed stopped adding to his mouth and held a full fork before his face chewing with an expression of puzzled disagreement. "The murders were done with alchemy?" Ed asked, sounding skeptical. Mustang shook his head, mouth full and unable to answer. Alphonse's sauce had a homemade flavor that was missed when you were a bachelor who didn't like to cook. Ed was content to wait for an answer and continued with, "Then what makes you think it's an alchemist?"

Mustang swallowed what was in his mouth. "I am not at liberty to discuss it. It's been classified."

Ed bristled and turned sourly to his food. Alphonse noticed this and tried to move on smoothly. "I hope it doesn't get too out of hand," Alphonse said.

"Without discussing why the murders implicate an alchemist, you're indirectly confessing the murders were done with the use of alchemy," Ed said, exercising brittle patience. He stabbed up some loose noodles, and gave Mustang a cold look. "Don't talk to us like we're stupid while you're in our place. Does locking away information, do it for you? Give you that, important glee?" Ed gave his shoulders a quick, mocking, elated shiver.

Alphonse whispered a discrete, "Nii-san," and Ed broke his gaze with Mustang and dropped it to his dish.

"I can't understand your sudden fascination with Marsisisms Edward," Mustang said, moving on comfortably and taking a sip of water.

Sarcastically Ed muttered, "Just want to exercise the mind."

"Rapid cell growth?" Mustang asked, referring to the topic he'd seen most in Ed's notes. "The science won't be remotely manageable for decades, if it ever is. It's new, and unstable fantasy." Ed was angry, and kept his gaze in his dish. He pushed his pasta from the right side to the left with short irritated kicks of his fork. "That won't help you get your limbs back."

Ed gave his plate a harsh stab, and looked up. "My notes are classified," Ed said softly, speaking with slow building rage.

"You make it starkly apparent you haven't gotten any closer since the last time you stormed in demanding access to the research," Mustang said giving a heavy sigh. "You can't set your sights on something weak, and think effort alone will make it strong. Even when you were younger your bull-headed nature let you immerse yourself this way. Don't make us both look like fools. I'll have you hobbling into my office like a pirate, with a wooden peg for a right leg and hook on the left arm. A second possible taboo, is just as unsafe as the first, well-proven, disaster."

Ed's automail shoulder gave a short twitch, and directly after Ed set his fork down loudly. "I've lost my appetite Alphonse, sorry," Ed said, gaze averted with abject loathing. He stood quickly and tossed his napkin to the table before stomping from the room.

Mustang watched Ed leave before exhaling with a bit of disappointment he momentarily forgot the location. Being frank inside the office, where there was rank, felt misplaced here. "That was rude of me," Mustang said apologetically. How true this was. "I apologize." He turned to Alphonse's disapproving frown. "My comments had no tact." He looked back to his food, but suddenly his appetite was gone as well.

"It's a sore subject for us," Alphonse said, but his polite tone sounded force. "An open wound is an easy target." Alphonse reached to Mustang's dish and grasped the side. "If you're finished," he said, giving pause until Roy nodded, "Thank you for having dinner with us." Alphonse stood and cleared their plates, before sitting Ed's alongside the sink.

Mustang stood and placed the pitcher and napkins on the counter near the sink feeling like a jack-ass. Ed made it easy to fling mud when the boy tried to loop into well-traveled routines of devastation like the insane. It was easy to criticize, and a pirate was his first thought. The Marsisism nagging had grown old, Ed needed to leave it alone.

Alphonse followed Mustang to the door and gave a brief smile as Mustang left. He didn't want to hang around, and in journey from the kitchen to the exit Ed was nowhere in sight. Deepest were the wounds Ed didn't even want to argue about, and Alphonse was right, an open lesion was a cheap shot, no matter how relevant.

It was a dinner well blundered, and walking down the stairs Mustang considered if the fresh wedge would work in his favor for at least a few days where Ed might be too mad to bother him while in office.

Mustang stopped with his hand on the building's exit. He had left his coat. Sourly he returned for it, and cresting the second floor, he stopped when Fullmetal's door opened. Alphonse stepped out, paused, called in a loud and angry, "What!" and then went back inside. The movement was quick, and he smacked the door too lightly for it to close. It bounced off the latch, and as Mustang approached he could hear the brother's talking

Ed's was speaking quickly, first inaudibly, but with increasing proximity becoming perfectly audible. Mustang stepped into the partly open doorway in time to catch Ed's loud, "I said, I am getting back in the tub!"

Alphonse stood alongside the couch facing the back bedroom with his hands on his hips. "Nii-san, all that water isn't good for you. What about the rest of your skin?"

"It's fine! I'll put lotion on right after," Ed said quickly. "Alphonse, I am not waiting until you get back, it's really acting up!" Mustang found this admission intriguing. What exactly could automail do to act up? "Get the numbing stuff."

"That's not good for you either," Alphonse said, with the same disapproving tone.

Ed emerged from the bedroom in a towel rubbing his temples. "Fine." Ed waived this off like he couldn't deal with it. "I'll be in the tub," Ed grumbled, starting a limp to the bathroom. The weak leg was the automail leg, and Roy watched this curiously. Below Ed's towel the metal leg was a gleaming fixture, polished, unscratched, and impeccable. The grace of its design, and its current misuse, reminded Roy of a fine car model with poor tires, and somehow, this implied the dysfunction was not just on Ed's end, but Ed's fault.

"Nii-san." Alphonse scolded, sounding both worried and annoyed with Ed's state. "Nii-san! I am not going if you get back in."

Ed stopped. "Man came from the sea!"

"No Darwin now!" Alphonse raised his voice when Ed did so, and then they both silenced. For a moment neither spoke further, and then Alphonse sighed and let his hands slip from his hips. "I am sorry," Alphonse said softly, walking over to Ed. "I know it hurts you."

"You don't have automail," Ed said flatly, flinching with Alphonse's quick attempt at a hug.

"Nii-san," Alphonse whispered, gently running his hand onto Ed's shoulder before touching the metal limb. Ed winced under the weightless touch because everything was sore, and he gave his shoulder a small shrug to brush Alphonse away. "I'll get the pads, and something you can take to dull it. The dampness will pass," Alphonse said, optimistically. Ed let himself be subdued and took to Alphonse's comfort. "Let's wrap it in the electric blanket," Alphonse suggested. Ed groaned loudly in protest, but it went ignored. Alphonse left quickly to the bedroom, with a loud, "That will keep you out of the water!"

"Al, this would be so much easier if you'd just let me get back in the freaking tub," Ed complained. Alphonse returned with a thick heavy blanket and plugged it in along side the couch. "It's only for...a few minutes or...I'll get out as soon as you're back!"

"Nii-san, you took two baths yesterday and three already. By the time the night is up, you'll be a prune, I know it. They're steadily increasing." Alphonse beckoned Ed to him, and Ed looked opposed to moving, but limped a few steps forward, and reached for help. "I'll come back as soon as I can, and if anything starts acting up we'll do the pins early." Alphonse took Ed's hand and helped him to the couch.

"Can you believe what...that asshole said to me?" Ed asked, groaning as he eased down to the cushions. "He doesn't know what it's like. He doesn't know anything; he's such an asshole to me."

"The Colonel apologized for his comments."

Mustang stiffened. The big assholeEd was talking about, was him.

"I don't care," Ed said, letting Alphonse wrap his automail leg in the blanket.

"He said it was devoid of tact."

"I don't care!" Ed repeated. "I'd like to see him walk one day like this! I'd like to see him manage one damn day! And—Instead he just—with that superior attitude, won't tell me anything I need to know. I have to work twice as hard for everything I need to know."

Alphonse reached to Ed's automail arm and lifted it to get a pillow comfortably underneath, but Ed hissed with pain. Alphonse stopped, and looked to Ed for explanation, but Ed averted his gaze uncomfortably. He managed a tiny shrug, and in a voice soft with self-disappointment, muttered, "I…got caught in the rain."

Alphonse's posture drooped, and he gave a long sympathetic sigh. Carefully he positioned Ed's arm with support from the pillow and wrapped it with the second half of the blanket. "That was unwise of your wise self." Alphonse sounded slightly annoyed.

"I couldn't avoid it," Ed said, cooperating with an awakening eagerness for the meager heat of the blanket. "Some of our study traveled outside, and I had to follow. He didn't care it was raining, so I went with it. He doesn't like it if I interrupt."

Alphonse muttered an inaudible compliant, and continued wrapping the blanket tight. It weaved from the leg to the arm, and the last tug took the bottom of Ed's tee shirt a few inches upward.

Immediately Ed snatched it, as if he'd be made indecent. He pushed it down, covering his navel self-consciously. It was a fast and frantic move, like a girl catching her lifting skirt, but it wasn't fast enough to keep Alphonse from what was hiding underneath.

"What happened!" Alphonse cried, yanking Ed's shirt up Ed's chest, and exposing the large bandage taped down Ed's stomach.

"Nothing! Just a scratch!" Ed said, fighting for control of his shirt and pulling it back down.

"That's not a scratch!"

"It's a scratch," Ed repeated angrily.

"That's not a scratch!"

"Okay, so fine, he went ape shit on me again," Ed said, cringing as he shot movement through his aching body. "That doesn't mean we need to slow down the process here, I don't want to talk about it, go get the stuff."

Before this conversation Mustang stood in plain sight, but with it, he ducked back, listening intently. Ed had lied, clearly and presumably about the entire event. Why he was downtown, why he needed a ride, and what had happened to his face. Ed had met someone, and whoever that person was, they had some type of talent, or value, that allowed them to clock the Fullmetal Alchemist in the face, no toll to be had.

"Nii-san, I don't like that man, he's crazy," Alphonse said, sounding worried. Alphonse wrapped Ed tenderly, as if he were an infant, but it wasn't soft enough. Ed was cringing with his jaw clenched.

"He knows what he's talking about," Ed said, speaking through his grit teeth, trying to relax. "He's telling me what I need to know. So I'll risk it."

"What's the point of saving part of you at the price of the rest of you?" Alphonse asked kindly. Ed grunted with disgust. "Nii-san, I want to talk about this more." Alphonse stood up and went for the door.

Mustang backed up quickly and glanced about the hall for a place to hide. Long and void of any furniture it was impossible, and he contemplated either sprinting for the exit, or faking the beginning of a knock. Then he spotted his only option. Two doors away, near the elevators, was a narrow hallway to a single maintenance door. A large plant was decoratively positioned to help hide the door. Hoping no one witnessed him sneaking into such a ridiculous space, Mustang slid behind it and waited.

"I am leaving this unlocked so you don't have to let me in," Alphonse said, still in route to the door. "You still can't find my key?"

"Sorry," Ed mumbled.

Alphonse left, and Mustang hid when he passed. He waited for Alphonse's footsteps to fade before creeping out from his hiding spot. Approaching the Elric door, he looked into the peep-hole. He knew he was snooping, and he knew this was nosy, but seeing that small uncensored communication between Ed and his brother made him curious. The evening was still unfolding, and selfishly he wanted answers to the opened questions the boys had dropped.

Taking precedence over all, was identifying exactly who Ed was seeing and why.

Through the peep-hole Mustang could see Ed lying on the couch. He was as still as death, and looked to be in a deep sleep before he lifted his hand and began rubbing his face. The mannerism was frustrated groping of the temples. Agitated fussing, and Mustang had seen Ed exhibit this in the office when Ed didn't like what he was hearing.

Ed was pinching the bridge of his nose, before giving a brief struggle in search of comfort. He kicked his legs out, tipped his head back, and tried to elevate his automail arm more successfully. Then he settled, grew angry when no relief came, and jerked upright wearing an ugly frown and announced, "Forget it." The movement caused a heavy wince. "I can't take this, I am getting back in the tub," Ed said, beginning to unravel himself. He pushed the blanket off his leg, and shucked his shorts, leaving him in gray boxers.

The sound of footsteps began advancing, and Mustang stepped back from the door. The weight and pace was familiar, and seconds after he managed to return to his hiding space, Alphonse appeared.

Alphonse was moving quickly, and entered his apartment with excitement, and gave the door another halfhearted smack. Again, it did not click.

"Nii-san!" Mustang heard Alphonse exclaim. "Where were you going!" Alphonse sounded as if he already knew the answer.

"To get a drink!" Ed yelled defensively. "Get me one since you're back here wasting time."

Mustang snuck back to the door, and Ed had moved from one couch to the other. With an expression of deep exasperated frustration, he was rubbing his leg just above the automail port, and did not look happy with Alphonse's reappearance.

"Last time this happened I wore this same jacket, car keys were still in it," Alphonse said, approaching quickly while digging a small circular container out of his pocket. He held it up triumphantly, and Ed's miserable gaze brightened with intrigue.

"You," Ed said quickly, scooting back and dragging his leg onto the couch. "You got two last time?"

Alphonse nodded, and began opening the container. "As soon as I made it to the car, I put my hand in my pocket and found it. I came right back. This should at least make it better until I get back." Alphonse sounded proud, but once the container was in sight, all of Ed's focus was directed on readying his leg. He shifted his weight to lean into the arm of the couch, and pulled his shorts up his thigh so between the automail knee and bunch of fabric there was nothing but flesh. Simultaneously, Alphonse climbed onto the couch and knelt between Ed's legs, and Mustang was stunned.

This was something. Mustang opened the door another inch, and watched with fascination. He couldn't make sense of the actions, and part of him worried he might begin witnessing something he would later regret, but he was captivated. This uncategorized moment threatened to erase eight years of history with his subordinates. It was a brand new introduction.

Roy Mustang, meet the Elrics, Elrics, Colonel Roy Mustang.

The guarded wealth of witty remarks and skepticism that Ed wore as a shielding badge of pride, had vanished, and Alphonse's youth was dropping away for quiet, intimate, enlightenment.

Alphonse emptied the container's ointment into his palm and scrubbed his hands as if preparing for surgery. When he was greased with something thick and clear, he took hold of the scarred and darkened flesh directly above Ed's leg port, with absolute tender care. Ed hissed all the same, and stared down at Alphonse's shimmering fingers as he gently smeared the medication over the cratered dips of skin, the wrinkled misshapen clumps, and permanent stains of purple and brown that existed alone the entrance line.

"This will make it feel better," Alphonse said softly.

"Tolerable," Ed corrected. "This will make it feel tolerable." Alphonse's hands looked not to move as he ever so carefully slid the ointment along the crease of flesh and metal. "Hurry up," Ed complained. Alphonse ignored this until Ed gave another impatient, "Hurry up, hurry up." Then Alphonse slid his hands upward slowly, squeezing to caress the cramped solid muscle, and Ed shuddered. Alphonse's hands held comfort, but they were still secondary hands, and with Ed's muscles locking upward in a thread to his groin, it was a bit awkward. His nerves were sensitive inside and above the metal port, and he had been thankful his entire automail life the infrastructure was not any higher.

"Easy," Alphonse whispered, and at the door trying to keep visual and audio at the same time, Mustang hardly made this out. Alphonse's back was to the door, but Ed's tense expression, meditating breaths, and intense scrutiny of Alphonse's work, was all the proof Mustang needed to answer his first question on what automail could do: Jack up your muscles. Memories of Ed bitching about foul weather, refusing to accompany transport when it was storming, and generally being a little prick on rainy days, surfaced quickly. Feeling a bit foolish now, Mustang had always attributed this to that one night Tucker's daughter died outside in the rain, and Ed took it hard. It had never occurred to him the reason to dislike wet weather was compounded any further.

"You're frustrated," Alphonse said to Ed, sounding disappointed. "You're still thinking about what he said."

"I am mad."

Alphonse smiled privately, and with a bit of jest to his voice said, "He looks good in uniform, doesn't he?" Ed bristled with this remark and turned his gaze into the room. "Nii-san," Alphonse slid his hands back to the rim of Ed's port. "Why don't you try talking to—"

"—I am not talking to that chauvinistic pig," Ed said quickly, more than agitated. "I'd just be adding to his list of ammunition. He'll just have something new to taunt me with." Ed returned his gaze to Alphonse's patient expression. "I'd never hear the end of it," he said miserably, "if he knew I…thought he looked…good."

Mustang stepped back from the door. He? If he knew? This was a bit surprising, but after a few contemplating seconds, the initial surprise wore away with something close to the dull obvious. Ed was a young analytical alchemic engineer. Much of the boy's brain was rooted in the black and white of equations and absolutes, and that didn't translate easily into the gushing scientifically-unstable emotions of the female gender. Ed had always respected talent and strength, even as an ignorant twelve year old. Young, the boy stared with unabashed interest at great alchemists, military generals, and other scientists with something close to star-struck desire. Suddenly it felt insultingly obvious Ed might have fallen in love with the high wielding strength and alchemic mastery he fought so hard to obtain and uphold, rather than skirts.

Frankly obvious in hindsight was the second realization Ed was never sharing stories of what girl he'd boinked, and that type of story sharing was common. In fact, with some quick, but careful, deliberation, Mustang was certain he'd never heard Ed comment on any type of sexual conquest, female or other, and hell, there had to be dozens of women who wanted to add the flashy tile of The Fullmetal Alchemist to their name, even if only as a quick five minute blow.

Mustang smirked with new found pride at the thought of Ed getting his kicks with some young silly thing. It reminded him of his own years as a new recruit, and his even more active years as a young alchemist, where girls responded to that word the same way they did to lawyer and doctor. They liked his eyes, they liked his uniform, they liked his talent, and they loved his title. Ed was just a rookie, and even with all those cards on the table, the little shit was secretive.

Strangely misplaced came the brief, defensively possessive grip, born when Mustang changed his mental image from something tittering and blonde, to another uniform. That picture held more danger, with the lucrative spontaneity and potentially fatal lifestyle some of the enlisted led, and Roy's first desire was to remove the anonymous party. As a commanding officer, that was one right he didn't have. Control of Ed's personal life, and therefore extending sex life, regardless of preference, was not his to reign, but spitefully, he felt his hold refuse to budge.

"You don't know that," Alphonse said, breaking the long pause of silence. "You certainly won't know it for sure until you test your hypothesis. Maybe the colonel won't laugh."

Mustang's thoughts stopped with the sudden sensation of the ground dropping from beneath his feet. It wasn't over this, wrongfully acquired fact, and implication yet another person thought he was attractive. It was the loud and roaring metal image of his office with nothing more than his desk, seated self, and Edward standing in front of it. Between their bodies a large fat red arrow went from Ed's chest, to his face, and the boy was smirking. Smirking for all these years, and the curtain pulling back on just what the hell we were smirking about was unsettling. It felt assaulting. He had been so dedicated to dancing on the wire of professionalism and safe distance with the boy's younger self, he hadn't noticed that as Ed grew into adult hood, that almost instinctual caution was no longer appropriate. With adulthood came the great and powerful word, CONSENT.

"Nii-san," Alphonse complained.

Ed gave a quick and miserable, "No."

Alphonse stopped his massage and sat back. His hands were lifted as if soiled, and they looked greased. "But," he said. "You need release." Ed gave Alphonse a disagreeable look. "You do, it's not unnatural nii-san. You should be enjoying yourself."

With sudden understanding the topic of conversation was not work stress, but rooted in sexual tension, Ed sputtered an uncomfortable, "How—how can you talk to me about things like this?" He separated himself from Alphonse a few inches and flopped back, with a quick, "Dammit Alphonse."

"I don't mind talking to you about it nii-san," Alphonse said, ignoring Ed when Ed dragged his flesh arm over his eyes and groaned. "I feel we're one in the same, after everything." Ed lifted his arm enough to give Alphonse a bitter scolding glare, and Alphonse laughed, "Well, I do." Alphonse climbed off the couch and gave his fingers a curious wiggle. "What you should be embarrassed about, is how taken you are with a little anatomy after calling yourself a scientist."

Ed gave a weak smile. "You're ridiculous." He reached to the couch end table, retrieved a sleep mask, and slipped it over his eyes.

Alphonse left to the kitchen and washed his hands, before heading to the door when Ed called a, "Hey, did you grab some water?"

"I am only one man," Alphonse called back. "Do you want me to go, or get you a drink?"

Ed waved to the door, even with Alphonse still in route. "Go!" he called. "Go, hurry up!"

Alphonse stopped dead just inside the door, and sounding worried, said, "Oh nii-san, Mustang forgot his coat."

With immense irritation Ed groaned out, "God dammit."

"Do you think he'll come back for it?"

"I hope not."

"Don't lie nii-san." Alphonse laughed. "It looks like a good coat. I bet he'll come back."

"He's a Colonel," Ed said irritably. "Every coat is a good freaking coat."

"Do you think I should wait? In case he does?" Alphonse asked, opening the door and standing in the threshold with Mustang's coat.

"No!" Ed yelled, horrified with the idea. "Go Alphonse! Put it down!" Ed lifted his head from the couch and pushed the sleep mask to his forehead. "He can stand outside and ring the bell until his finger bleeds for all I care! Go get my stuff! You know what this is like!"

Alphonse set Mustang's coat down with Ed ranting, and left with orders for Ed to stay on the couch.

Mustang returned to the Elric door and confirmed it unlocked. He wanted his coat. Tentatively he lifted his hand to knock while watching Ed through the peep-hole. Ed looked uncomfortable but tired, and after Mustang's first knock, didn't so much as move. Mustang allowed a polite pause, and then knocked louder. Was Ed serious about leaving his guests in the hall? All he wanted was his coat.

Carefully, Mustang opened the door enough to step in. Aware he was invading, it seemed appropriate enough just to retrieve the coat. With a cautious eye on Ed, Mustang moved to the second couch where Alphonse left it. He lifted it from the back, and his movement caused Ed to abruptly point towards the kitchen.

"Get the water," Ed said angrily. "I feel like I am eating cotton balls. I don't know why you're back Alphonse, just get the cup, get what you need, and go."

My god, Ed's ears were good.

Mustang looked toward the kitchen and hesitated. This was crossing the line, wasn't it? If he moved he'd be deceptively implying he was Alphonse, and yet, if he didn't, he'd be giving away the fact he was not Alphonse.

All things considered, he did not expect things to go over well if Ed discovered he was not Alphonse, so he left for the kitchen. He had once, during a boring conference in the East, let a fly land, drown, and float in Ed's coffee cup without warning the boy before he sipped it. When Ed discovered this, the grudge made office life miserable for months. In many petty ways Ed delivered payback, and if that was the price for the death of a fly, Mustang didn't want to know what followed home-invasion.

Mustang kept his strides silent, and his footfalls light, so there was no sound of body weight or pace. He was indistinguishable from Alphonse, and filled one of the used dinner glasses from the counter and brought it to the couch. Every noise he'd made retrieving the glass, running the tap, and even giving a cabinet a quick open-and-close, assuming Alphonse would give Ed a clean cup, he made loud and clear. He outlined the events, so when he neared the couch, Ed extended a hand and went to move the mask from his eyes.

Without hesitation, Mustang snatched Ed's automail hand and stopped it from disrupting the mask. He kept the grip tight, but didn't pull strongly, and thrust the glass into Ed's flesh palm. He didn't think he could drop the cup and run to the door without being caught, so the only option was to do this with Ed blind.

Ed stalled with a bit of confusion, and then uncertain acceptance. The smell of the medicated ointment rising off him stung Mustang's sinuses viciously, and caused a dry chalky taste to assault his mouth. The desire for water was suddenly very understandable, and he loosened his hold on the cup so Ed would instinctively grasp it.

Ed brought the glass to his lips and began drinking after a muttered, "Thanks."

Mustang waited, watching the metal arm for signs it would try to move, but Ed was utterly relaxed. Sprayed out on the couch in a shirt and underwear, Mustang marveled at the changes. In the office Ed wore long sleeves and pants. Even the few times they'd been in the desert, he refused to give up his gloves and coat. Modest was an appropriate word, and hermit might better fit, but peeled free of several layers, was the clear, well-developed body of a young man. The flesh arm was strong, the flesh leg stronger. The bit of skin above the rim of Ed's shorts was laced with lines from his abdominals, and dusting fine blonde hair downward from his belly button. Somehow uncovered, Edward looked smaller, albeit taller, and stronger, yet less dangerous.

Roy's waiting hand reached to Ed's forehead where a single blonde bang was sliding forward toward his nose, and brushed it aside. It felt like a ribbon, and the touch of the boy against skin, brought only one thought: what the heck am I doing?

Roy Mustang meet Edward Elric.

Ed emptied the cup and handed it upward blindly. Mustang took it, weary he was actually pulling this off, and eager to be free. He stepped back too quickly, caught the edge of the coffee table, and Ed laughed.

Ed snorted a teasing, "You okay?" until Mustang stepped back with too much weight, and in one single movement gave himself away. Instantly, they both knew it. Mustang lifted his gaze to the door, in panic, and the smile washed from Ed's face, in fear.

The metal hand came outward almost too fast to see, and if Mustang had not been in the military for seven years, with skills the common man would never need, he would have been caught.

Ed would have snatched hold of Mustang, body climbing up from the couch, flesh hand reaching to the sleep mask. Instead, Mustang evaded the grab, and in two lunging strides, was in the hall.

Mustang made his breakaway, fleeing at a quick, mildly suspicious pace, toward the stairs. Behind him he heard the snap as Ed ripped the sleep mask off, the spark of a transmutation as the metal arm became a blade, the slam of furniture as the coffee table was kicked aside, and Ed's vicious, "Who's there!"

Roy rounded the corner to the stairs, pressed his back against the wall, and took a breath. From the other end of the hall a pair of chatting soldiers entered, and he was almost caught. Close call.

Ed charged into the hall in fast limping steps. He looked both ways, raking his flesh hand through his hair in muddled panic. Who was skilled enough to get so close the knife could plunge right in! Grabbing at his scalp, memory of the stranger's hand in his hair came stampeding back, and Ed tipped his head forward and slapped at his bangs with paranoia.

Mustang peeked into the hall, and Ed's half-dressed self looked comically as if he were trying to combat an invisible attacking bee.

"What happened Fullmetal!" One of the soldiers called, stopping many doors away, and slipping the key into their own dorm.

Ed spun toward the voice, expression full of alarm and confusion. The automail knee buckled and Ed took a limping step toward the wall, and braced against it for support. "Hey, you see anyone out here?" Ed called over.

"Out here?" the soldier asked, unlocking his door and pocketing his keys.

Ed was catching his breath, and nodding said, "Yeah, how long have you been out here?"

"What happened, she get away from you?" the soldier teased kindly. The young recruit with him began laughing and whistled a loud cat call. "Don't worry, she won't get far in her bra and panties!"

Ed stomped back into his apartment and slammed the door with a loud, "Shut up!"

Standing alongside Mustang's office desk, Hawkeye studied the schedule he'd handed her. It was his own, and she read the many items consuming his eight hours day and asked, "What is it you think you can cancel?"

Mustang was frantically completing the expense report Finance was screaming for. "Something, whatever you think I can get away with. I want to be out at four today."

"Four?" Hawkeye looked up with surprise. "Four, sir?" There was a knock, and they both looked to the door when it cracked and Alphonse stuck his head in. Mustang beckoned Alphonse over with a wide polite smile, and Hawkeye's look of surprise became shock. "Sir?" she returned his schedule to his desk, "your guess is as good as mine."

"You're so much better at that game than I am," Mustang said quickly, keeping his attention on Alphonse as the boy crossed the room. Alphonse was in the Amestrian uniform minus the jacket, and was working with the infantry soldiers, so he was scuffed and sandy. Unlike his brother, who found mingling with the soldiers tolerable for only so long, Alphonse enjoyed experiencing each aspect of life as a newly enlisted soldier. Naturally this made him well liked by the men, and they saw Alphonse Elric as a reliable team member, and barely noticed the State Alchemist chain.

Alphonse stopped before Mustang's desk looking confused, and Mustang gave Hawkeye a quick glance, signaling a conclusion to their discussion, and flashed four fingers. He handed her the expense report, ink still drying, and she left with a discrete roll of her eyes. Her subtle sigh of exhaustion implied she might never feel she understood it all.

Mustang turned all attention to Alphonse and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "Alphonse, thank you for coming."

"What did you want to see me for?" Alphonse asked, sneaking a curious glance around to confirm they were alone. Alphonse seemed to expect Ed would also be present, but made no comment. Seven years of habit died hard.

"I wanted to apologize again for last night," Mustang said. Hawkeye was just shutting the door when the word apologize caught her attention. She looked back with one of her kind warning glances. Be careful, her eyes said. Roy ignored this. "I felt guilty after leaving. I did not mean to ruin your dinner."

Alphonse gave a casual shrug. "It's okay."

"To make it up to you, I want to take you both out to dinner tonight."Alphonse's eyebrows lifted with surprise. "To a very nice restaurant." After seeing Ed in his underwear, he now wanted to know what the boy looked like in a suit. "I…" Mustang silenced when commotion developed outside his office door. A new voice entered the outer office, and greeted everyone loudly, before Ed's familiar footfalls came parading straight for his door.

Alphonse was right to assume Ed might be present for this meeting, Mustang had called for both Elrics, but as usual, Ed was arriving late, and as usual, Mustang was keeping his schedule despite Ed's best efforts.

Directly before Mustang's office door swung open without a knock, Alphonse looked back expectantly. Ed marched in with the door still whooshing aside to make room, and said, "I know I am late, but I had things to do." He was smirking with smug satisfaction, before stopping dead on sight of Alphonse.

With an accusing expression of suspicion taking Ed's face, Ed flicked the door so it slammed, and came to stand next to Alphonse with his hands shoved into his pockets. Mustang secretly loved Edward's defiance. The willful disobedience was unyielding and unbroken by the military's lash. While occasionally obnoxious, Mustang took pride in Ed's spitfire, even when the current activity was, say, standing in front of your commanding officer in a disrespecting position.

Alphonse explained with a quick, "Nii-san, the Colonel is inviting us to dinner."

"Listen to this," Ed mocked, lulling his weight to the side. "That's rather odd Colonel." Ed's gaze narrowed with playful caution. "I didn't get the memo hell froze over."

Alphonse kept his gaze on Mustang, and whispered a discrete, "nii-san," before and asking, "When sir?"

"Tonight," Mustang said, ignoring Ed's invitation to bicker. Ed frowned when his comment went unaddressed. "Since you both were so kind to treat me last night, I will do the same tonight. That is equivalent after all."

Ed answered quickly, too quickly for any deliberation, and shifting his gaze to the side of the room said, "I have previous arrangements."

Alphonse gave Ed a fleeting glance of confusion, before answering with a happy, "Well I'll accept Colonel."

Ed jerked his elbow into Alphonse's side. The action was meant to be discrete, but was not. Ed looked both surprised and uncomfortable with Alphonse's consent, and was hiding it poorly.

"Tonight would be perfect," Alphonse continued.

"Thank you," Mustang said. "Shall I give you directions, or pick you up?" He retrieved a piece of paper for directions.

"You're not going to go in his shaggin' wagon," Ed said to Alphonse, sounding confused with all of this.

"Edward it's a domestic car, behave yourself," Mustang said.

Use of Ed's full first-name was attention grabbing, and Ed's eyes jerked to Mustang. Almost as quickly, Ed gave a disgusted grunt, partially unhappy with the current discussion, and embarrassed with his fast obedient response to Mustang's call.

"Do what you like then. I am dismissing myself." Ed left for the door, and added, "Got things to do," before slamming it behind him.

Looking tired with a common routine, Alphonse muttered a scripted, "Please excuse my brother sir."

"He's already done that himself," Mustang said, with a hint of anger.

Alphonse left with directions, and Mustang turned to his windows and stared down at the parade ground thinking of the two boys he'd met last night. Alphonse's second side was now visible for Mustang inside his first, but Ed's was not. The real Edward Elric seemed hostage, locked in a box tight within the violent shell. Curious with intrigue, Mustang found himself drumming his fingers and wondering where he would find the key.

Tonight he would extend his hand and introduce himself, man to man, soldier to soldier, alchemist to alchemist. Roy Mustang, meet Edward Elric, Edward Elric, Roy Mustang.

How long ago should this have happened, and for how long had we been referring to the practices designed for a twelve year old on Edward's changed, and older self?

Mustang was pleasantly surprised when Alphonse did not arrive for dinner. In his place, came a shorter, thinner blonde, looking hot to the touch.

Severely uneasy, but unwilling to pass up this opportunity, Ed gave Mustang one dirty vicious look from beneath gorgeous blonde bangs, and said, "You better not be cheap."

Hello and welcome!

Thank you for popping in to read my first humble chapter of this story! I hope you will find it interesting and enjoyable enough to continue until the end. I will try to keep this author's note quick, but please heed the below.

Story Overview / Posting Timeframe:
"Foolish For You" is a completed, multi-story chapter, beginning today, chapters will be posted every Friday, with the exception of Chapter Two: Our Mistake, to be posted Friday 06/21/13. (This is my posting style, and there are more details on my profile). If there are to be any future exceptions, I will advise, and always confirm the posting date of the next chapter in the most recent chapter.

Rating Disclaimer:
This is a yaoi RoyxEd story, today's rating of T will change to M/MA beginning with Chapter 2, as this story will pick up speed quickly. "Foolish For You" contains graphic scenes, adult content aimed at mature audiences, and will include references/suggestions/themes of the yaoi arc. Please read according to your own comfort level. As this is the first M/MA story I am posting, some chapters will have rating disclaimers at the top, out of respect to you as the reader, and for your convenience.

Miscellaneous / Marketing:
I apologize in advance for the use of "nii-san" try and bear it, I saw FMA first in Japanese, and I just can't hear Alphonse talking to Ed any other way. I will not fix this, so just try to…go with the flow : )

Okay! So now that all the fine print is taken care of - this story has some action, romance, suspense, all the good stuff. Alert me! Follow me! Come back for this one, you will enjoy it. I promise, you'll get some laughs, some worries, and some thrills. : )

Misc Shout Out:
I have recently become staff to the FMA Yaoi community, "The Sanctuary of Yaoi," and we are in need of high quality FMA yaoi stories. Know any? Please message me with any referrals. We can't possibly read them all, or hunt them all down, but talented authors who slaved over stories we love deserve their credit. Please help them find it by getting them into a community. All pairings welcome. Thank you.

Hope to see you all on 06/21/13 for Chapter 2! Please review!