So...what does everyone think of this pairing?

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Warning: let see....moderate-level expletives, shounen-ai, and zebras.

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Chapter One

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Edward Elric had never appreciated the value of having a house until his brother married Winry.

Edward had impulsively offered to let them keep the flat that he and Al shared. And, like most of his impulsive decisions, it left him with rather dire consequences.

Such as the complete lack of anywhere to live.

It was the sort of problem that Ed wasn’t very good at dealing with, so he promptly made it Colonel Roy Mustang’s problem.

“Well, if you can’t find me somewhere to live, I guess I’ll just have to transfer to another unit”

Roy was less than eager to lose his protégé, his child genius (was a child genius, an adult now, as he had to keep reminding himself).

Al had to hide his complete lack of surprise that very few of the Colonel’s men were willing to put up a powerful, eighteen-year old short-tempered alchemist with automail limbs.

Edward was faced with the choice of living with a heavily-addicted chain smoker, having a flatmate who sparkled endlessly (?) or sharing a house with five dogs, nineteen hamsters, a racoon and a zebra.

Or Hawkeye’s perfectly sensible, practical, comfortable home without its odd quirks or pink sparkles.

So why, Edward thought furiously, shoving the zebra out of his way for the umpteenth time, was he here.

Fury grinned up at him warmly. He was sitting on the floor with a food bowl in one hand, an eyedropper in the other, a racoon curled up in his lap, and a small rodent perched on his head.

Edward smiled back. He couldn’t help it, really.

That was why he was here.

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He should really stop watching Edward while he slept.

Cain Fury had a very strict code of morals that he lived his life by. They weren’t something that he had implemented on himself under some attempt to ‘turn over a new leaf’ or as a new years resolution. They weren’t a part of any religious standing, because Fury wasn’t religious, as such. They were just a part of him, a reason why he was completely unable to leave any injured living creature to die. They were sprung from a deep notion of care that Fury had always had.

At least, until now.

Edward had needed a place to stay, various soldiers had offered, including Fury, and Edward had chosen Fury.

He’d been rather flattered. And surprised, but not as surprised as he would have been a few years ago. Recently, Fury had started to get the distinct impression that Edward trusted him. It was just little things; Edward had come to him angry tears after a (very, very) short-lived argument with his brother, he had gladly accepted Fury’s help with his research on a few occasions.

Maybe it was just his bad memory, but Fury could not remember Edward allowing anyone else to assist him, except maybe Hawkeye.

And then there were the times when Edward would find him in the library of an evening ( in the “Animal” section, for some odd reason), carry a pile of books over to Fury’s spot on the floor, and sit leaning his back against Fury’s.

The weight and warmth, and the occasional movement between his shoulder blades as Edward turned his head slightly, would be enough to completely break Fury’s concentration. And he would just sit there, with his eyes half closed, feeling the rhythm of the younger man’s ribs as he breathed in and out, in and out, in and out, until there wasn’t a single other thought in Fury’s consciousness.

All of which gave him no excuse for watching Edward sleep every night, long eyelashes splayed against pale cheeks and hair golden against the pillow.

At least he didn’t look like a child any more. At least the set of his jaw and the width of his shoulders defined Edward, quite deftly, as an adult now.

When he shifted slightly, Fury turned away guiltily. Adult or not, Edward trusted him enough to live with him; enough to be tactile, even. And here Fury was betraying that trust, misconstruing things, falling in love.

Softly, he closed Edward’s door and moved off to put the dogs to bed.

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Edward was angry.

He threw his boots down on the doorstop, and kicked the door open with bare feet. He wished it was Mustang’s head. Idiot, idiot Colonel. How dare he suggest that Edward had caused that uprising at Rizenbul.

Edward didn’t like the notion that he might have been responsible for the lives lost there.

He didn’t think Roy really needed to have added insult to injury by remarking on his complete lack of growth spurt, either.

One of the dogs flew through the open door, seized one of his discarded shoes, and galloped out into the garden. Edward cursed and took off after it, stumbling through the grass and tripping over the concrete. His legs were already aching from the days work, and stones in the pavement cut into his feet.

By the time he managed to drag the dog back inside, he was absolutely livid, mindlessly outraged.

When Fury came into the room, humming tunelessly and nursing a sparrow, Edward had yelled at him.

“I have absolutely HAD it with everyone. Colonel bloody Mustang.....really BAD day....you and your stupid bloody animals....bloody dog tried to...should’ve let it get run over...”

He had yelled quite a lot. And quite loudly. And for a long time.

Fury had pulled his jacket over the bird, as if trying to protect it from Edward’s rage, and...

...he just stood there, paling as the rant went on, taking the full force of the young man’s temper until Edward had finished and stomped off to his room.

Then he unfolded his jacket and set the sparrow down in a spare cage, moved around the room fixing it water and food and blankets.

Tears slowly started to cut clean paths down his cheeks. He hated it when Edward was angry. He didn’t enjoy being yelled at, but more importantly, he didn’t like seeing Edward upset at all. As far as he was concerned, that kid had seen too much hardship already.

Was it his fault?

It had been his dog. Edward’s feet had been bleeding...

Had he hurt Edward?

Guilt flooded back to him, all too familiar these days.

Oh god, no, please no, I’m so sorry

Fury looked at the stairs, torn between not wanting to disturb Edward any more, and wanting to make sure he was okay.

He settled for feeding the hamsters, the tears flowing silently and heavy sobs shaking his chest...

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a/n: should I continue this piece or not?

Don’t flame me, please. Flames are boring. Unless you think of a really creative/amusing flame...