Stray Dog

Title: Rebellion
Pairing/Characters: Ed, Kimblee
Rating: PG
Warning: Mentions of torture, swearing
Words: 553
Summary: Ed won’t give them up.
A.N: I blame lack of sleep and feeling like shit for this one. My head aches, my back aches and I tend to write what I feel so have Ed in the same pain as me. I have no idea, I really don’t, it just popped into my head. Let’s just pretend that Mustang failed and Dante/Father won shall we? :)

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He ached all over. His automail weighed heavily on his shoulder and leg ports and the muscles in the rest of his body were screaming at him to rest, to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come. No matter how tired he felt, how much his brain wanted him to close his eyes and let it shut down for just a short amount of time the pain wouldn’t let him. And if it wasn’t the pain keeping him up it was him. That sadistic bastard in the stupid suit and that ridiculous hat.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in this room, how long his arms had been chained above his head, how long he had been sat in this position but he knew it was longer than he would have liked.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall, it hit hard but he wished it had hit harder then maybe it would knock him unconscious, unfortunately it seemed he was out of luck.

He licked his dry lips with a dry tongue, listened to his stomach complain and hoped that he had at least bought the others time to run and escape although he feared that it was already too late for that. As long as they were okay he could cope with the pain and the tiredness.

He opened his eyes at the first sound of banging, he looked towards the door and listened to the lock being dragged back and the heavy duty iron being pulled open. He watched as the man that plagued his current existence wandered in smiling down at him, teeth showing.

“So Mr Elric, how are we today?” Ed would have spat at him if he had had the saliva to spare. Instead he just glowered wishing that looks could kill. “Not speaking again? Well we shall have to remedy that. My boss really wants this problem taken care of quickly, after all, he is trying to run a country.”

One of the guards walked in behind the guy that was currently topping Ed’s list of people to kill carrying a large briefcase. Ed knew this case well, it was filled with Kimblee’s favourite toys and was placed, as always, on the small table in the corner of the room.

“You know we already have most of your friends. Mustang, the unfortunate leader of your little rebellion, is in a cell just down the hall and the lovely Hawkeye, well she just refused to come quietly so I’m afraid she’s no longer with us. And if you listen carefully you should hear the screams of the other members of Mustang’s pitiful team as we question them but we’re still missing a few of the trouble makers.”

This news filled Ed with hope while dropping him to the floor. He felt pity for the others and the well of sadness that filled him over Hawkeye was tremendous but he had hope too because Kimblee had not mentioned them. They were still safe and that was all that mattered.

“So Fullmetal Alchemist, where exactly are your little brother and lovely mechanic?”

Ed set his jaw firm and waited for the pain. He would never tell this man anything and as long as his brother and Winry were safe then the rebellion lived on.

Title: The moment
Pairing/Characters:Scar/Ed >.>
Rating: PG-13 ???
Warning:I actually can’t think of any…
Words: 401
Summary: Scar reflects on the ‘moments’ in life
A.N:I wrote this for NaNo and never got it posted but after the fic I just posted I have been told it needs offsetting so have something not quite angst…ish :P

When had this happened? When had they gone from sworn enemies to this? He wasn't sure he would ever be able to figure it out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. He was happy enough just living in the moment. There had been no future for him at one point, no thoughts beyond what he knew he needed to do. To have something that could possibly become a future together with someone was not something he wanted to think about.

No, the moment was fine, the moment was all he needed. If he could just have this one peaceful moment alone with this man that was once an enemy and was now…something else he would be happy and a moment of happiness was all he really deserved.

He looked back at the man sleeping in the bed. He had once seen him as a boy, still one he would kill, but a boy nonetheless. Now, as his golden hair fell softly across the pillow and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm he could never think of killing him again. Not even if Ishbala asked him to.

The young blond stirred, moving his hand over the place next to him that should have held a body. He slowly opened his eyes and looked blearily towards the window, he knew that’s where he would be standing, it always was, as he looked out over the rebuilding of his homeland.

“Come back to bed, it’s getting cold.”

“It’s the desert, it’s never cold.”

“It is with automail.”

He could not deny that, he hadn't known until recently that the young blond tended to be colder than other people because of the metal limbs he had. It had never occurred to him that it would cause such a big difference.

He walked back to the bed, shuffling into place and as soon as he was still a smaller body moved up next to him throwing an automail arm over his chest as if to hold him there lest he should escape again.

Scar looked down at Ed snuggled close to him, still baffled by the fact that they were here together but not really wanting to question it anymore. It was a moment of happiness and if it was the only one he got, the only one he deserved, then it would be enough.

This one moment would stay with him forever.

Title: Alone
Pairing/Characters:Roy
Rating: G
Warning:Angst - I think that could do with its own warning here
Words: 348
Summary: Roy’s all alone
A.N:I suddenly realised today that I’m going to be spending my 30^th pretty much alone. Mum will be in America visiting friends. I’ll be at work most of the day and because it’s a Tuesday this year my family will all be at work/otherwise occupied as well. And all the other people that I would love to spend the day with don’t live on my little island. So my brain threw this at me. It is unbetaed, literally just finished, and unchecked but I don’t care!

He shut the front door behind him, turned on the light and dropped his bag on the floor. He hung up his heavy woollen coat, undid and slipped off his boots and walked into the kitchen. The house was dark and cold and felt unlived in, it always felt like this when Ed was away on a diplomatic mission. Ed brought the warmth to the building, without him nothing was warm or happy but Roy understood that it was not forever, the short blond would be back in a week and then the house would feel far too small, best to enjoy his freedom till then.

He sighed at the thought of another week alone as he pulled a box of cereal from one cupboard and a bottle of whiskey from another. This was what he classed as food when Ed was away. Of course it didn’t help that there was pretty much nothing else in the house to eat. He checked the fridge for milk but what little there was didn’t exactly look like milk anymore so he dropped the bottle in the sink instead.

He grabbed a glass and a bowl and sat at the table. Pouring some whiskey into the glass and some flakes into the bowl he began eating the dry food with his hands before taking a good long swig from the glass. He cringed as the first notes of burning started at the back of his throat but quickly subsided, he was used to it but the first mouthful was always the same. He drained the glass before refilling it, all the while eating the dry flakes of cereal and wishing that it was one of Ed’s home cooked meals.

He sighed again, blew on the glass as if it was a candle and, before taking another swig, spoke quietly to himself and the silent building around him.

“Happy birthday Roy, happy birthday.”

He downed the glass in one go as a single tear slipped down his cheek to fall into the dry flakes, forgotten on the table in front of him.

Title: Why drinking is bad (a.k.a. How Ed got his Tattoos)
Pairing/Characters: Havoc/Roy/Ed
Rating: PG–13
Warning: Swearing, stupidity, drunken insanity
Words: 591
Summary: Ed regrets ever drinking and so he should.
A.N: This started life as an offhand comment of Ed’s in a crack fic and grew into a full idea in the comments so of course it had to be written. You gotta love bright pink ponies XD Again, hot off the press.
 

He was never drinking again. He cringed as the needle moved over his skin. It was official, pain made you sober, no matter how plastered you started out. It would have been nice to find that out about three hours ago before he had made the single most stupid mistake of his life, apart from the obvious of course, and not while he was still making it.

He gripped the table he was currently lying on and buried his head in the pillow the guy had given him. A simple bet, a simple bet that he would never have made sober. Still, how was his inebriated brain supposed to gauge how pain resistant Mustang and Havoc were? They shouldn’t have made the bet with him in the first place! It wasn’t fair damnit! This should not be happening! How was he supposed to explain this to Al, not that he thought Al would be seeing his ass anytime soon but what if he did?

Explaining a basic tattoo like the one had had wanted, the gargoyle with flames, would have been easy. But this? How would he ever live this down? To be fair though he was more worried about getting home first. His ass was already sore and he was in so much pain that he had to wonder just how in the Hell he was going to pull up his tight leather pants without passing out. Would he even be able to pull them up past his hips? Mustang and Havoc were going to pay for this! He was going to make sure of it.

A simple bet, make them get a tattoo, if they cried out they would have to streak through Central Headquarters, no problems right? His drunken brain had screamed with laughter because of course they would cry out. He was making them get it on their hips, right over the bone. It should have been a done deal. How the fuck had they stayed silent? Havoc fine but Mustang? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Ed gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain went through him. His ass was so sore right now and every new prick with the needle made it that much worse. Had the bastard and the smoker chosen something good this may have been worth it but it wasn’t even close. Not even the matching Tinkerbell tattoos complete with wands and sparkles that the others now sported on their hips made up for the humiliation.

He should have seen it coming, should have known they would do this. This would be why he was never drinking again, his sober brain would never have allowed this travesty to happen.

He muffled yet another cry as the tattooist added more pink to his second tattoo. Mustang had been true to form when picking Ed’s first tattoo. Writing over Ed’s left butt cheek that read ‘I’m the bitch’ surrounded by butterflies and stars. And as if that wasn’t bad enough Havoc’s choice had been worse, he had really outdone himself with his evilness. Currently being tattooed on Ed’s right butt cheek was a bright pink Pegasus My Little Pony.

Ed could have cried, not only was he going to be unable to sit down for over a week, it was being caused by a bright pink flying horse.

There was one consolation though, because of where his tattoos were, the tattooist had said no sex for at least two weeks so that they could heal properly. Now that had made Mustang and Havoc cry out.