This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so bear with me.

Hope you enjoy it! R&R please!

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.

PS. This was first posted in a thread--after a few comments, this is the edited version, To read the original (it's shorter!), go to this place: .com/forum/fanfiction/fma-s-would-you-love-me-if-you-saw-my-face-a-fanfiction/t.57348737/

It was a masquerade. The dress code was only suits, no faces, and for God's sake change your hair. The point of it was for people to find others they liked, without basing it on outward appearances...or gender. This was when I let go of many inhibitions. It was at this place that I was swept off my feet. It was here that I learned about myself.

My tuxedo was a simple black, with silver pinstripes. My mask was purely and simply white; it matched my gloves. It covered my entire face, from hairline to the bottom of my chin. Only my eyes were visible. I was dressed smartly and simply--looking presentable without trying too hard. However, for the hell of it, I dyed my golden hair chestnut brown and curled it--might as well go all-out.

Alphonse and I arrived together--he was immediately swallowed by the crowd, as he made a striking figure. People could never keep their hands off of him, even if his face was covered. I could tell this was going to be the worst party I would ever go to. I, alone, made my way to a nearly empty table, save for one person. He was tall with a beautiful metallic blue mask that covered the top half of his face, and a slightly shimmering grey tux that somehow matched--his hair was sandy blonde and long enough to cover half his forehead, but it was swept back neatly. His eyes were pure onyx.

In a friendly gesture, he said, "Hello." I could tell he was smiling and lustful, and I was guessing that it was because my hair and average stature made me seem like a woman. I sighed. Well, if we were not being judgmental, might as well go all-out (again) and be completely open-minded.

Al had always told me that I would do better with a man anyway, because apparently women would not be able to handle my crazy temper tantrums and below-average stature. That comment got him several lasting bruises. I smiled, just as I sat down, I acknowledged the greeting of the man at the table.

"Nice to meet you," I said quietly, almost nervously. It was not like me to be so...submissive. Fortunately, that faded with the upbringing of controversial topics.

The next I knew, we had (thankfully) skipped introductions and were suddenly debating about the purposes of war. We were in very heated discussion, voices raised just enough for people at neighboring tables to stare. It was a dream come true. He was a dream come true. Someone with a brain. After a while, we had fallen into a comfortable silence, staring out at the rest of the party.

"Will you dance with me?" It was a sudden question, spurred by the commencement of a new song, a slower one, a question that was nonetheless very surprising to me.

I could only splutter out, "Oh, I--I don't dance--"

"Nonsense," he interrupted, getting to his feet and dragging me to the dance floor. "It's easy," he said, placing both my hands around his neck, "especially because it's a slow song." I felt him place his arms around my waist, and I shivered with pleasure. We spun slowly in place, swaying to the music, awkwardly at first. Then, after we had gotten into the groove, we continued to dance, never breaking eye contact.

My amber eyes and his beautiful onyx orbs were locked for what seemed hours. If we were not wearing masks, I am sure we would have kissed. But all I could do was stare, stare at this beautiful man before me.

All too soon, and also after what seemed an eternity, the song ended. As everyone else clapped for the band, now taking a short break, we still swayed in the middle of the dance floor, eyes eternally locked. I do not think either of us could look away if we had wanted to. There was so much feeling passing between us, and I did not want to let these precious moments end. This was the best party I had ever been to.

Finally, I gathered up enough courage to tell him the truth. Might as well let the night be ruined early. "I...have to tell you something," I said quietly. He looked at me patiently. "I'm...not a woman." At this last part I broke eye contact to look at the floor. He had not responded for several moments, so I peeked back up at him. To my surprise, his eyes were misty and it seemed like he was smiling. SMILING.

"I don't care," he said softly.

We broke our embrace, but he immediately grabbed my hand and led me out of the room. As I was being dragged out, I glimpsed Al, with people all over him, giving me a thumbs-up. I waved in return, smiling, even though no one could see my face. I was scared of what might come, but also excited.


We had walked through many corridors and hallways before he dragged me into an empty--and dark--room at the end of one long hallway. He took off his mask. It was too dark to see the details of his face, only a slight outline from the light of the streetlamps filtering in through the closed curtains. Jubilant at this recent development, I took off my mask as well.

As soon as it had cleared my chin, he grabbed my face with both hands and started kissing me frantically. I responded wholeheartedly, wrapping my arms around his neck. I felt butterflies flying in a frenzy in my stomach, and my lips felt hot, as they moved with his. After a few wonderful moments, he pulled away. I was slightly disappointed, the phantom of his kiss still on my lips.

"Okay," he said softly. "I definitely like you. Are you ready for us to find out each other's identities?"

I swallowed nervously, then replied, in no more than a whisper, "Yes."

I heard him cross to the room's entrance and flip a light switch. In the time the lights took to warm up, he had crossed back to where I was, and grabbed both my hands. I waited with bated breath, listening to him inhale deeply. The lights flickered on.

"Roy Mustang?"

"Edward Elric?

There was a silent moment of shock. Then he dropped my hands, grabbed his mask, and stormed off angrily. I stared after him. Although I was surprised to find that the man under the mask was my commanding officer in hairdye, I cannot say I was disappointed. He had many good qualities: He was handsome, strong, probably a good lover by now, and had a whole other side to him that I enjoyed much more than the ass he usually was.

I looked around at the now-lit room. There were wooden chairs embroidered with red velvet everywhere, and a few tables as well. I slumped into the nearest chair and let my head rest on a table. This was unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Now that I had gotten over the initial shock, all I felt was pain.

After a moment of silent contemplation, I replaced my mask on my face, and left the room, head held high.

If he wants to forget about this, I thought, my hurt turning into anger, then I will too. And with that, I stormed out of the room, talking to no one for the rest of the night.

This was the worst party I had ever been to.


Pretty soon, it was back to work, and I had all but forgotten about that night. Roy gave me my assignment that first morning rather coldly. I responded with my usual schpeel, having a fit, coaxing him into anger. I tried harder that morning, attempting to get him to show any emotion. He didn't--and it made my heart ache. It was not until that moment that I realized how much he meant to me. I left his office, feeling empty.

A week had passed, and I finished my assignment. For once, I had done it alone, without Al's assistance--mostly because I really needed that time to be alone, without my brother prying. Better that I put up my walls alone. I walked into Mustang's office and dropped off a handwritten report, not even looking at him. It would be too painful to even catch a glimpse of those, beautiful, terrible onyx eyes.

"You're late, Fullmetal," he commented. I, seething, was thinking about attacking him and calling him vulgar names, but instead ignored it, already out the door.


I lay in bed, sobbing as I do on very rare occasions. The one person I thought I might be able to love was giving me the cold shoulder. It was ridiculous. As I thought about it, it came to my attention that we very well may be perfect for each other. But he seemed to hate my guts.

Then I realized I did not care. I still wanted him. I sat up on my bed, pulling the blanket off of myself. If he did not want me...then I would simply have to convince him to.

Wiping away the remnants of my tears, I threw on some boots and stormed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I whipped open the front door, and stopped in surprise. There he was, handsome as ever, his hand frozen in mid-knock.


"Mind if I come in?" He was trying to smile charmingly, but I could tell he was nervous about whatever he was doing. Without waiting for an answer, he brushed past me and sat on the couch. Before I could ask him what the hell he thought he was doing here, he started to speak.

"Look, Fullmet--Edward," he said softly, I know I hurt you...but--" he sighed, putting a hand on his forehead. This was the most open that I had ever seen him. I could tell that this was really hard for Mustang to do. "I was in shock. I never meant--"

Suddenly my lips were on his. I no longer needed an apology--I no longer needed anything but him and his love. He responded enthusiastically, never moving from his sitting position, but still kissing me like I had never been kissed before, running his hands through my hair, and along my torso. I wrapped one arm around his neck, the other around his upper waist.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he asked after he finally managed to pull away.

I smiled and said, "Yes," before locking my lips to his once more.

That was the best party I had ever been to.