Title: Rendezvous

Summary: Brosch might have a few wrong ideas about his trip with Second Lieutenant Ross.

Ship: One-sided Brosch/Ross

Spoilers: Vague spoilers for 1x43, I believe

Warnings: None

Rating: K

Disclaimers: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Author's Note: I ship Brosch/Ross and I loved his little misunderstanding. So, I decided to embellish on it a bit! I hope you enjoy. I'd love to hear what you think.

"I thought maybe she was romancing me."

Sergeant Brosch hummed to himself as he packed his slightly-worse-for-the-wear suitcase.

He grabbed an old bottle of suntan lotion from the bottom of his dresser. Vacations meant fun in the sun, right?

He'd been propositioned by a few women in his day, but a romantic rendezvous? This was new! And with Ross? He didn't even know she felt that way about him. Clearly he needed to brush up on his powers of observation...

Brosch dug out his civilian clothes and tried to decide which ones said "I'm-a-totally-cool-guy-on-a-romantic-vacation-rendezvous." He briefly wondered what she would wear; he'd never seen her out of her uniform before.

His clothes were all packed; he had all his essentials, but something was missing... A ha! He grabbed a floppy white hat from the top shelf of his closet. Hats were practically must-haves for any vacation. Besides, his sister (the bestower of said floppy hat) had told him that the ladies loved a man in a stylish hat.

He stood back to survey his suitcase. Good, that really was everything. Time to sleep now; Ross had booked them the absolute earliest train leaving the station in the morning.

"I thought maybe she was romancing me." Brosch rubbed his hand behind his head, trying to look nonchalant.

Of course, of course—a random trip would be all about the little business with that Winry girl and Sheska...and the Elric brothers. Ross had developed an uncanny attachment to them—not that he wasn't quite fond of the boys himself, but it was impossible to miss her fierce protection of them—more than just putting up a physical guard.

Even with all the excitement, a feeling lingered—like bad fruit in the pit of his stomach—throughout the day. It wasn't until much later that night, laying in his bed, that he was able to put a finger to it:


-The End-