Rainjoyswriting - Loving You Too Long.pdf - FMA Fanfiction - Mojaunicorn

Loving You Too Long

(Roy settled the needle so, so gently to the record, and after a wet spark of a crackle, the

first bass notes sounded warm and deep. He glanced back to Ed with a smile and Ed

shook his head, trying to hold his mouth flat, and said, "I hate you. I bet you set all this

shit up just so you got to do this."

"You give me far too much credit," Roy said, walking to the bedside table. "Wine?"

"You know I'm not meant to. A baby used my liver as a springboard, Roy, it's good for

crap."

"Half a glass." And a kiss beside his nose before he could argue. "Now. Tell me about

your week.")

Saturday morning and Maes was in the back garden, in the autumn leaves - from the

bedroom window Ed could hear him crashing about in them and that was the main focus

of his attention as he dug through the laundry basket for a whites wash. Mainly shirts, all

of which had to be turned inside-out and dumped into the basket at his feet, and a few

pairs of socks dropped onto them like little cotton bombs.

Things to listen for: Maes falling (he could hit his head) or disturbing a hedgehog (fleas,

diseases) or finding some 'leavings' of the cat from down the street (more diseases and

Ed's endless wrath) -

He almost just threw it in the laundry basket with the others, jerking his hand to double

check. Red streak on the back of a shirt collar - one of Roy's shirts, too big to be one of

his. He didn't remember Roy cutting himself shaving this week. Surely he'd have noticed?

He lifted it up to look more closely. Blood would need to soak in cold water first,

otherwise . . . funny, it didn't look like blood. And how would Roy cut himself shaving at

the back of his head?

Ed stared.

His very first thought was no and he tried to work out what else it could be. Spaghetti

sauce? At the back of his head? Ink? Why ink? Wine?

He rubbed it with a flesh fingertip. Felt a little waxy.

Just a streak, a brief brushed streak, of red lipstick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

("All of these songs are about women." Ed muttered at the ceiling.

"Love is a universal," Roy murmured, kissing his hipbone.

"You just keep saying that so you get to play music about women at me."

Roy's hand stroked down his waist. "Hush. Close your eyes. Lay back. Listen. And feel . . .")

Ed didn't know how long he sat in a coma of non-thoughts on the bed for, but he blinked

slowly back to the room to silence. He raised his head a little, crossed to look out of the

window. Maes was sitting in the swing/punching bag - it could be transmuted to either

to suit its required purpose - concentrating on the book on his lap and chewing his lip.

Reading was safe.

Ed backed away, gave the room a dazed look - funny, it was still here - and looked down

at the shirt in his hand again. Red streak of lipstick. Except that it couldn't be. What else

could it be? How could it have got there?

He paced around the room a few times, still holding the shirt.

Paint? Rust? Some strange new breed of mould? Alien excretion, what? What? Because it

couldn't be - it couldn't be -

His throat hurt.

There was a telephone on the landing. He tried to pick it up and realised the shirt was

still in his hand. He stared at it like he didn't know what it was, then transferred it to his

other hand and picked up the phone, and his fingers hesitated over the dial.

'Hi Roy, funny thing, I found lipstick on one of your shirts, how did that get there?'

By thirty-four Ed knew himself well enough to know that he couldn't say that, especially

not over the telephone. His hand hovered over the telephone, and then he dialled - but

not Roy's office.

A few rings, and he stared at the wall and chewed the inside of his cheek. The phone

clicked and Al's cheerful voice said, "Elric-Rockbell residence, hello!" and Ed's mouth

opened -

- and stopped, because he had a very sudden image of how Al would respond to this, and

he didn't know anything yet and he really didn't know where Al got off acting like he was

the one responsible for Ed . . .

"Hello?" Al said again, curiously. "Is anyone-?"

Ed cleared his throat. "Hey, Al."

"Brother! How are you?"

"I'm . . . yeah, I'm great, I need to talk to Winry's all . . . you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why do you need to talk to Winry . . . ?" And then his voice lowered and he

murmured, "Did you break your automail again? Because today might not be the best day

to tell her that, Sam opened out the washing machine this morning-"

"No, I can keep it working for like, a month at a time - I just, just wanted to ask her

something. Okay?"

". . . I'll go find her. Hold on, brother."

Ed turned the shirt over and stared at it while he waited. Tomato ketchup? Brick dust?

Did he rub against a painting in some gallery opening? A flower, maybe . . . ?

The phone clicked its way to Winry's bright, "Morning, Edward! It's not often you want to

talk to me." And then in a lower, harder voice, "What did you do to it?"

"It's not about the frigging automail, alright? Hell, you two have so much faith in me," he

muttered, and moved to rub his forehead and only gave himself a faceful of offending

shirt. "Winry - I just - I just need you to tell me I'm being crazy, okay?"

"You usually are," she muttered. "What is it this time?"

"I." Ed stared at it. Coloured chalk . . . ? No, there was no denying it . . . "I found something

- this is crazy - I found something that looks like lipstick on one of Roy's shirt collars." He

cracked a grin there in the hallway. "I'm being crazy. Right? Tell me I'm being crazy." He

waited. "Winry? This is where you tell me I'm being crazy, because I'm being crazy." He

swallowed, huddled the phone a little closer. "Winry?"

". . . you're probably being crazy, Ed."

"Don't - don't say probably! Why probably? Why only probably?"

"No - I didn't mean it like that, I just . . . of course you're being crazy. He's crazy about you,

always has been, it's probably . . . tomato sauce or something."

Ed rubbed it with a thumb and tried to make himself believe that it was. "Maybe it's wax

crayon or . . ."

"Has he been acting weird at all recently? I mean, weirder than usual, for hanging around

with you so much. Oh shit I didn't mean that like that-"

She always had teased like that, but her attempt at a carefree voice had stumbled quickly

into rapid guilt. And Ed pressed himself to the wall, slid down it to sit, shirt crumpled in

one hand.

"He - no, he - he's always - Winry just tell me I'm being crazy because I didn't believe this

until you-"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry jeez I am such an idiot, you shouldn't be talking about this with me I

knew I'd screw up - I'll get Al-"

He barked in sudden panic, "Don't tell Al!"

Pause.

"Of course you're being crazy," she said softly. "Surely he knows as well as you do what Al

would do to him if he ever hurt you . . . ?"

"I don't need - he wouldn't - shit ." The words dragged too harsh up his throat now and

his eyes were beginning to feel hot. He blinked hard. "Shit, shit. No. I'm being crazy.

Because he wouldn't. He wouldn't and I would know . I would know , wouldn't I? And he

wouldn't, he wouldn't-"

"Just - just maybe you should talk to him, Ed-"

Ed swallowed, hard and hurting. "Yeah. Yeah, when he comes in, we can . . . I can . . . yeah.

Thanks, Winry."

"Ed - Ed, he wouldn't, you know he wouldn't, he's insane about you-"

This really wasn't helping make his throat hurt any less. He said roughly, "I know."

Pause.

"If you need to stay with us for a bit you know we have room for Maes too," she said softly,

and Ed put his hand over his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

("The takeaway's here."

"Mmf. Don't wanna move."

"Neither do I." Roy's thumb brushed over Ed's mouth. "I just want to stare at you all

night. Let's ignore him and he'll go away."

"Are you kidding me? I'm starving . I'll go."

"No." Kiss. "You wait here. You wait exactly here." Roy stood, his eyes still intent on Ed's

sprawled body. "You stay exactly, exactly, there . . .")

Maes chewed his sandwich slowly, watching his dad stare into space. One hand was

holding his coffee mug but he hadn't taken a sip yet and the steam had slowly died off as

he stared out of the window.

Maes swallowed and said, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

"'m not really hungry, kid." he said very quietly, his eyes not moving.

"You never let me not eat anything when I'm not hungry."

"Growing boys have to eat." he said in the same calm, quiet voice, and stared out of the

window.

Maes watched him warily; quietness rarely meant anything good when it came to his

dad.

"You can have my crisps," he offered.

Stillness for a second, then a slight smile and his dad finally looked at him, and the smile

broadened just slightly. "S'okay, kid. Thanks. I'm just really not hungry."

"Are you getting sick?"

"No. I don't know. No."

"You should tell Dad if you're getting sick."

The smile tightened on his face. "Yeah. Maybe."

And he looked out of the window again, and Maes wasn't really hungry any more either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

("It's the middle of the night," Ed said, but took the coffee anyway.

"We used to talk for hours . Don't you remember? Three a.m. and we'd still be sitting

there with another cup of coffee-"

"You always did like the sound of your own voice," Ed said with a small grin, and looked

down into his mug. "We were younger then, we weren't shot all the time. You didn't

have this stupid job, we didn't have the kid-"

"You're still young."

"You think you're not?"

"Edward, I'm turning into a badger."

Ed gave him a puzzled look, then looked up at the grey creeping through the sides of

Roy's hair. "Huh," he said. "You know . . . ? I never really noticed."

He looked down to Roy's incredulous eyes, a smile flickering his mouth. "Still the sexiest

man in the military." he said smugly.

Rainjoyswriting - Loving You Too Long.pdf

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