Disclaimer: It's not mine. If it was, then I'd be a far better writer than I am.
Depraved work of Valeria H
The military prepared you for all stretches of life though apparently childcare needed to be added to the articles covered in basic training. But then, picking up women also wasn't covered but could still be asked of you by your superior officer.
The morning was not starting well. The solid sting of a body hitting the floor never changed even after twenty-six years of making constant and painful contact with the surface on a daily basis. The sharp and consistent trill that cut through the air certainly wasn't making the morning more appealing. Looking up at the intruder to his silent sanctum, newly appointed Colonel Roy Mustang cursed the existence of his alarm clock as well as the event that had made its activation necessary. Pushing mussed strands of midnight black hair out of his eyes, he moved away from his bed, mind now set on one objective. Coffee! Looking in the mirror he passed on his quest he nodded. The bleary onyx eyes set in pale skin looking back at him confirmed that it was required to function.
Caffeine injected into bloodstream and fully dressed in distinctive blue and gold braid that was the military's regalia, he felt like a different person to the one who had fallen out of bed. He was certainly a different soul to the one who had first donned the uniform, still enamoured with grand and unrealistic dreams. When Roy Mustang had enlisted, he'd been assured that the military would 'make a man out of him'. Whoever had told him that had been right, although he was certain they hadn't intended that he be made a man under quite so horrendous circumstances. There couldn't really be someone who could wish for a child to undergo that kind of psychological torment, right?
The morning was bright and cheerful yet Roy could only consider the unfairness of it all. The weather should at least faintly reflect how your day would turn out. His day was going to be one of political upheaval, administrative frustration, carefully constructed sarcasm and maintaining a safe distance from rampaging wild animals that just happened to be your subordinates. There didn't seem to be a weather type for that kind of confusion just yet.
Walking into his office he avoided the gaze of his aide First Lieutenant Hawkeye. He didn't want the lecture on punctuality to be added to the exciting torture of his day, especially when assisted by her helpful sidearm. It wouldn't be a struggle to appear busy as he prepared himself mentally for today's meeting. It may not appear so but it took a great deal of input to cultivate the image he wanted to convey to others. The sarcastic quips and charmingly attractive smirk didn't just come naturally and took time to...no, he shouldn't lie. He just had some witty repartee to ready himself for. After all, this was war!
The uneven stomping advancing towards his office signalled that it was time for his meeting. He was prepared but there was still something odd about the sound approaching him, something missing from it. There was no echo! No metallic sound stalked the uneven tread as he had been expecting. This would be something new, an unsupervised rendezvous that was sure to prove entertaining as his victim would not be restrained. Perfect. As the door was slammed open, boot mark sure to be etched forever to its surface, he saw the newest subordinate in all his furious golden glory.
Here stood proof that the Furher was the twisted bastard that he had first assumed after Ishbal. A genius he may be but Edward Elric was still a child. Slightly shorter than average but with remarkable blonde hair obscuring aureate eyes he was visually stunning with the mind to match. Twelve years had not been enough to give him happiness but it had certainly had time to endow him with a generous supply of cynicism. And he had 'graciously' been given command of the military's youngest alchemic genius? He wondered if it would be easier to shoot himself now or to allow Edward the joy of killing him. The truth was probably that the little brat would want to keep him alive to make him suffer.
A metal foot was tapping repeatedly on the floor but its owner still refused to speak. Very well, if the brat refused to voice his frustrations then it was time to goad him into revealing them. It was time for business. "I very much enjoyed your report of Youswell, Fullmetal. It was wonderfully engaging and the characters were very entertaining, particularly this alchemic shrimp that appears to be the protagonist. A beautiful work of fiction. When will the next volume be out?"
Well, just how else was he to express that the kid had done him a favour? It would only lead to an inflated ego as well as, perish the thought, a debt. Only mental instability dwelt in that direction.
There it was, that low growl carrying the faint hint of threat, rapidly being overcome by frustration. A loose tether was being pulled, what little self-restraint that Edward possessed holding him in place rather than wrapping those gloved paws around what he was certain was currently being viewed as their rightful place at his throat. If a calming armoured figure were here then there would have been no hesitation in leaping, the reassurance that someone would be there and not permit his volatile temper to be unleashed. But there was no warden here and he had to monitor his own explosive personality. The leash was already close to snapping; he'd give it 15 seconds tops.
Perhaps one last push would be enough to pitch him over the brink. "My, my, your temper is shorter than you are."
He had always pictured Edward as a lion. It had seemed to fit his persona, fierce, temperamental and tragically prideful. He'd flown too close to the sun at too young an age and now was paying the price for his impetuousness. Of course, that fearsome image was somewhat tempered by his short stature. Roy was well aware of Edward's sensitivity and tendency to explode about his height issue and yet, it had seemed a standard thing to comment on at the time, even as plentiful manners of his demise were being narrowed down in search of the ultimate torture. As the 4 foot 9 inch golden midget of determination advanced on him he racked his mind for what particular insult his superiors were punishing him for that could possibly be worth this amount of suffering.
He did the only thing he could to retain his current life expectancy; grabbed what he could to restrain the source of his doom. Perhaps pulling hair was a childishness that should have been beneath him, but then he'd never claimed to be entirely adult. Still, he was surprised by what he had caught the feral Lion with. Those wispy threads fell through his fingers, a fine veil where he had expected a thick mane. Softening the grasp in his confusion, it altered into more of a caress.
Little Red Riding Hood had never been more appealing than right at this moment. Though the little fairytale maiden had never benn something to entice him, right now he knew he would be playing the part of this story's deviant villian. The clothing was just such a contrast to the rest of Edward's appearance! There was that innocent angelic quality that the golden hair and eyes lent him, crossed with the worn black jacket and tight leather pants. As if this wasn't enough, to top off the effect there was that vibrant red coat. The Big Bad Wolf wouldn't be permitting this cloaked wandererto just continue on to Grandmother's house.
The squeak that was emitted could hardly be described as intimidating, nor did it fit with the rapidly fading furious facade. Was the Fullmetal Alchemist, dare he say it, nervous? How laughable! If safety was to be considered as his first priority then Roy would not have mentioned the faint quiver beneath his hands. But he just wouldn't be himself if he allowed an opportunity for this kind of mockery to pass. As the patronizing being he was born as, it was his sacred duty to use this situation to his advantage and, more importantly, his amusement.
Stepping closer, he observed his prey as it darted back, the gentle tug of hair a reminder that there was no escape at present. Another step and the thud of metal tapping against wood resounded, making known that he had ensnared his captive. As the most troublesome brat in existence jerked his head up, Roy began leaning down to close the distance. He felt the rapid breath on his face, saw the panic that was not even attempting subterfuge, traced on that innocent face, eyes widened in disbelief. This image was not the one he had anticipated.
'I'm the image of virtue, I'm the image of virtue, I'm the image of not quite so virtuous virtue, I'm the image of perverted virtue. Damn it, I'm a pervert!'
He had thought that Edward would be the one at a disadvantage here, but despite a reputation for womanising and years of experience to reinforce that reputation he was not certain what he really wanted at this moment. There was just something about that innocence that completely disarmed him. Still, no point in dwelling on it now and letting it ruin his fun. "Is there something else I can help you with, Edward." The purr was a nice touch and appeared belittling rather than aroused. The shiver that ran up the spine of his hostage confirmed that this would be the fastest way to have him flee from the room and allow Roy the return of his privacy. As he trailed his fingers down a delicate cheek and onwards to perverted fantasy, something must have clicked in Edward's mind as he soon found himself the victim of a vicious attack from a metal foot. It hurt like hell but at least he'd survived.
With the click of his door shutting and the uneven footsteps that spoke of escape, Roy let his thoughts wander away from a confusing prodigy to considering his ultimate goal. When he was Furher he knew a few extra articles he'd like to add to basic training. Still, none of them would have prepared him for Edward Elric. But then, there wasn't an article in existence that could prepare Edward Elric for an enamoured Roy Mustang.