Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Arakawa. I don't make any profit putting the characters in suggestive or questionable positions. Really.

This, I do not know what this is. An attempt, pitifully, at angst. A foray into the Ed/Roy pairing. A terrible, terrible version of introspective writing? It's been sitting there for a while now, gnawing at my brain so I thought to hell with it! I'll post it and hope for the best! I really hope I won't be eating my words..



Dear Heart.

To my Heart.

Fuck, I don't even know why I'm doing this. Writing a letter to my own heart? What the hell? Stupid idea, Winry; what was that about "getting it all out in the open, it'll make you feel better?" This is just making me feel like a total idiot. But whatever. I'll give anything a shot once.

So. Here goes. I'm gonna tell you what I think of you.

You're rebellious and it's pissing me off to the extreme. This whole situation was fine when it was just my dick talking. But now you go feeling all excluded and want in on the action. And you're just making things extra difficult.

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

There's a guy. Yes, a guy, you did hear right. I'd always known he was good looking, shit, I had eyes. Thought I was exempt from the charm, though. Until he decided to make a move. A bold one, that even me, oblivious as I can be (alright, I admitted it, you can stop fucking laughing now) didn't miss. It's sort of hard not to notice someone's tongue being shoved down your throat. And that wasn't the end of it. Hell no.

I'm male, so of course anything sexual was going to be appealing. Even with him. And, yeah, he was an awesome lay, doing things with his mouth I didn't even know was possible, but it was ecstasy. I can say that in the privacy of my own confession – letter – whatever the hell this is. Anyhow, they were some good times.

I didn't even know he was interested though! I wasn't interested, until he turned all predator on me. Have you ever been pursued before, by someone who has every intention of doing wicked things to you once you've been caught? It's the god-damn hottest thing I've ever experienced. His eyes would burn and he'd lope, like a panther or something. It was sexy and irresistible and I sound like a girl but I don't fucking care.

Anyway, we had our little routine set up. Once we'd got the whole, yes, I definitely want your dick up my ass on a regular basis (or the reverse) thing sorted, it turned out to be pretty easy to set up fuck dates. Two, three times a week, I'd go to his house, or we'd meet somewhere private, and we'd...screw. And screw, and screw. But I never stayed. After getting what I came for, I'd leave. And it seemed fine.

Then the fuck dates turned into fuck dates with food included. A discussion on the latest alchemic theory might become a walk to the library with sex before or afterwards. I can't resist a good meal or new knowledge, bastard knew that. I started staying longer, which was probably his oh-so sneaky plan. I was naive in the dating aspect, I didn't know what constituted courtship, or whatever people call it these days. But I certainly figured it out when he started buying me things. A book here, a new pair of gloves there. Flowers. That's definitely what tipped me off. No-one buys someone they're screwing flowers unless they're getting attached.

I confronted him about it. Loudly. Probably violently. It was still just sex for me, not a relationship. I didn't need that, not with my goal of regaining Al's lost body still my number one priority. I couldn't deal with any other emotional upheavals, couldn't doll out time for something which required me to turn my attention elsewhere. And sex was an outlet, something I could use to forget about everything else for a little while.

The thing that got me, really got me, was he didn't even bother denying it. Outright said he wanted to be my lover, not just my fuck buddy. I couldn't understand the motive behind giving it to me straight – surely he knew I would stop our meetings. Which I did, of course, because he loved me, fucking loved me and I wasn't heartless enough to take my pleasure and give him only pain in return. It could never be "just sex" again.

Things went back to the way they'd always been. Al and I getting into more mess researching the Philosopher's Stone, going on missions, wrecking my automail, yadda yadda. But always in the back of my mind was the slight curiosity over what I'd given up. At the time I'd only been aware of how weird it might have looked receiving gifts and going on proper dates with a man half the female population of Central wanted. I already got enough attention for being a dog of the military and the Fullmetal Alchemist, I didn't need any more.

He didn't seem to be pining. Was his usual, dastardly self, making life more miserable. In hindsight, it was tactical genius. Because while he didn't seem to have any regrets, mine were slowly growing. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I was learning that first hand and I hated it.

For ages, I thought it was just the sex I was missing. Like I said before, he's one hell of a lay. And he knew all my buttons perfectly after so long. But looking at couples on the street, in restaurants, walking in the park, doing all those gooey, romantic things that usually made me barf, I somehow found myself wanting all that and then some. I wanted it so much it hurt. And only with him, no less. I couldn't picture myself with anyone else.

We got together once or twice after I happened upon that revelation. I blamed it on the need to prove to myself that it was just the hormones talking. But something was off about the whole thing, and it wasn't because I felt guilty. It felt so much more intense, like we were discovering sides of each other we'd never encountered until that time. The desire for him I felt before his confession paled in comparison to the need I felt then, the craving I feel now. Sappiest thing I've ever written, I'll kill myself if you ever read this, bastard. No, scrap that. I'll just kill you instead. Or castrate you, whichever I feel like.

Anyway, back to you, Heart; after all the soul searching this is my dilemma.

I'm in love with him.

I, Edward Elric return the love of one Roy Mustang, and it's not the passing crush kind. It's the all consuming, desperate, I need you now and forever kind.


When did you decide it would be a good idea for me to fall in love with Mustang, of all people? Was it in between the dick up arse thing and the restaurants he'd pick out exclusively to give me "more culture, Fullmetal, because we both know you are severely lacking in refinement?" Maybe it was when I finally realised that unquenchable fire in his eyes wasn't just passion, but something much more affectionate. Hell, it could even have been the way he'd argue with me so much over my underwear choices. Asshole had a thing for silk boxers, apparently.

Whenever it was, why did you decide it was a good idea? Not only is he Roy Mustang, which is reason enough not to get involved, but he's my CO, plans to be the Fuhrer in the near future and is probably the biggest man whore in all of Amestris. Even if that last one can be overlooked (the expertise just adds to the appeal, I'll be honest), the first two make this, or any, relationship a major offense. And I'm still underage. Not that it's stopped us. At all.

You're annoying, Heart. You override my logic at the best of times. I know, practically, I should stop thinking about this and focus on what's most important, because this is basically impossible. Besides, Al comes first, always. But even if I were to leave things for now, and pick them up at a more opportune time, I don't think we'd ever be like those other couples I've seen, world's revolving around each other. I really don't need him to complete me, even though this whole letter seems to point to that.

Shut the fuck up.

I'm still second guessing myself. Ultimately, I guess it really doesn't matter how or why it came about though, does it? What matters is what I'm going to DO about it. And I'm tired of this. My excuses are seriously beginning to wear, and I just want this to end so I can get on with my life.

I've always been selfish. I've never cared much about the risk factor of my decisions. I wanna be with him, that much I know, whenever it becomes OK for that to happen. And I really can't deny how I feel about him, thin line between love and hate and all that philosophical bullshit. Line's so thin you can't even see it and you don't know when you've crossed into enemy territory. Even a self-proclaimed genius like me can be blind at times.

Crap, I honestly dunno why I bothered writing this. I already know how it's gonna turn out. You already know how it's going to turn out, you stupid organ; you're always to blame for my misfortune. Sometimes, though, you can be the catalyst for my happiness too...That was painful to admit. Besides, I'm nothing if not stubborn. Oh, and I'll have to remember to thank Win for suggesting this, if what I plan to do now doesn't get me fried. Or, you know, laughed at. Asshole.

I'm off, then. I gotta tell a bastard he's the love of my life, come what may. Wish me luck because I could definitely use it.

Yours, of course,

Edward Elric


I don't really like this pairing, I'm not sure if you can tell. But I think they make for excellent entertainment, what with Ed's absolute hatred of the smug bastard. It really just comes across as incredibly messed up foreplay. OK, so maybe it's kinda hot. Sorta. Shut up.