Author - D M Evans
Disclaimer - he'd be fun to have but no, not mine
Rating - FRT
Timeline/Spoilers - spoilers for ch 30 and beyond
Summary - Everyone is a little superstitious
Warning - None really
Word Count -235
Author's note - written for the fma_fic_contest for the prompt 'superstition'. Thanks to SJ Smith for the beta and title. I think I'm out to use every single character…. I really wanted to do more with this but yeah, word count limits. And I was surprised to win second place (oddly I keep winning for characters I've never ever really written before!)
His mother used to be superstitious. It had amused him until he realized he was just as bad. He had his routine, because routines were better than superstitions, more rational. Whatever he chose to call it, he always followed his habitual pattern, who to chop, when to chop and what to do with the parts. He had himself a blast. The day he ignored his superstition, figuring what could it hurt, he ended up caught by the military and shoved into this cold shell of a body.
Agreeing to help out his new honey wasn't anywhere close to his routine. It shattered his superstitions, frightening him and tantalizing him at the same time. He didn't even want to cut her into pieces…much. Those big brown eyes, the way she filled out her sweater, beautiful. But it was the way she handled her guns, that made him her willing slave. Even in close combat, she showed him no fear, just hot lead. The things he wanted to do to Hawkeye made his soul dance. Ah, if only he had his body back, Barry knew sweet Hawkeye would be his. Granted, he'd have to chop up that grim-eyed superior of hers first but Barry knew the best ways to prove his love. Give him a brick wall and a body full of nice warm paint and all of Amestris would know how he felt about his babe.