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Nov. 15th, 2007 12:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beachlassStory post
Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me
PG
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rainjoyous, whose stories are a delight.
“Tell me again why Elric needs his research assistant at the blasted conference?” Bette had complained, lounging across their bed. Marta had laughed and thrown a pillow. “Can you imagine him without someone to run interference? You know, they say he actually hit someone in a disagreement over testing on animals.”
Actually, what they said, (and they was the department head’s admin assistant) was that Professor Elric had transmuted his arm into a sword and held the blade to the other alchemist’s throat. And hit him after. But that wasn’t a story to tell your girlfriend before leaving with said professor for a week.
Elric dragged her to the opening reception, and ate his plate of spicy fried snack things, and half of hers, while leaving her to answer questions about their research, only occasionally interrupting. He talked with his mouth full, crowded into Marta’s space to steal the food from her plate, and peered around into the crowd.
Marta was wondering how long they would stay, surprised that the professor would stay this long, when the noise in the room shifted just a bit around a group of new arrivals. Elric spun to face the door, pushing his hair from his face and scowling as he tried to see who had entered. “Bloody, overly tall, too well fed…” he muttered, and Marta smirked until he jabbed her side with his elbow.
“Use that freakish height of yours for something other than hiding books on the top shelf and tell me who’s here.” he demanded. Marta, who was only a bit taller than her mentor (and used a stool to hide the books on the top shelf), looked around.
“I don’t know, Professor… there’s a blonde woman” who was eyeing the crowd rather like Bette’s sister did while on bodyguard duty. “And a man with graying black hair.” The man turned and Marta said in a rush “Oh, it’s true, then, Professor – look, it’s the former Fuhrer! They must be about to appoint him chancellor…” Marta assumed that Elric had heard the rumours about the newly retired Fuhrer coming to the conference. Marta assumed that Elric had heard the other rumours about the Fuhrer as well… the ones that seemed to stay inside the capital’s small queer community, and never make it into the newspapers.
Elric was silent, suddenly still beside her, and she turned to see a half startled look on his face change to one of wolfish intensity. Was he…?
She looked back towards the entrance, where the former Fuhrer was politely and smoothly greeting people and not looking towards her professor at all. Elric grumbled “Self satisfied, smarmy bastard...” and grinned up at her before lounging against the wall. Marta looked from Elric to the man busy across the room, and then discovered the blonde woman watching her. Another drink was definitely in order.
Two hours later, the room was emptying out for a night’s rest or smaller parties. Former Fuhrer and soon to be Chancellor Mustang had made his way around the room and finally disengaged himself from a last admirer and smirked as he stepped across to Marta and her mentor. His blonde shadow followed “Edward, how nice to see you again.” the woman said, and leaned over to kiss the professor on his cheek.
“Riza.” he replied, and held her forearm for a moment. His voice was warm and affectionate until he turned to glare over her shoulder. “Bastard.”
Marta blinked, disconcerted at a greeting that was rude even by Elric’s bare standards.
The blonde woman – Riza, rolled her eyes, and held out her hand. “And you are Marta. Riza Hawkeye, pleased to finally meet you.”
Finally meet? What? Marta had worked with Elric for three years, but…
The other woman’s attention slid to the men, and Marta’s followed. The professor was scowling up into the handsome face of the man before him. The man who was saying “Fullmetal.” As though it were an invitation. “It’s been what, two years?” The man who was unfastening the top button of his shirt and continuing in a low husky voice. “I hear you’re down a historian at the university recently.”
Elric flushed, and Marta bit her lip. Down a historian indeed, after an infamous shouting match in the faculty dining room between then lovers over the appropriate role of force in Ishvalla.
Riza coughed, and the two men looked over, the dark haired man rueful. “Edward, rude as always, won’t you introduce me to your lovely assistant?”
Elric gave Marta a sharp look. “Mustang, I believe you have FILES on my assistant. Marta, this is Roy Mustang. Former leader of the country, currently an academic dilettante, always an unrepentant manipulative bastard.”
Now it was her professor’s turn to smirk, and Mustang’s turn to scowl. “I prefer the term” and now the two men locked eyes “elder statesman”. Mustang put one hand flat against the wall above Elric’s shoulder.
Marta couldn’t look away.
“So much more…” Mustang leaned in, far closer than anyone hoarding discretion ought, “leeway.” Elric’s eyes dropped to the other man’s mouth for a moment, and then his own mouth quirked in a hungry grin as they looked, just looked at one another for a long moment.
Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me
PG
For
rainjoyous, whose stories are a delight.“Tell me again why Elric needs his research assistant at the blasted conference?” Bette had complained, lounging across their bed. Marta had laughed and thrown a pillow. “Can you imagine him without someone to run interference? You know, they say he actually hit someone in a disagreement over testing on animals.”
Actually, what they said, (and they was the department head’s admin assistant) was that Professor Elric had transmuted his arm into a sword and held the blade to the other alchemist’s throat. And hit him after. But that wasn’t a story to tell your girlfriend before leaving with said professor for a week.
Elric dragged her to the opening reception, and ate his plate of spicy fried snack things, and half of hers, while leaving her to answer questions about their research, only occasionally interrupting. He talked with his mouth full, crowded into Marta’s space to steal the food from her plate, and peered around into the crowd.
Marta was wondering how long they would stay, surprised that the professor would stay this long, when the noise in the room shifted just a bit around a group of new arrivals. Elric spun to face the door, pushing his hair from his face and scowling as he tried to see who had entered. “Bloody, overly tall, too well fed…” he muttered, and Marta smirked until he jabbed her side with his elbow.
“Use that freakish height of yours for something other than hiding books on the top shelf and tell me who’s here.” he demanded. Marta, who was only a bit taller than her mentor (and used a stool to hide the books on the top shelf), looked around.
“I don’t know, Professor… there’s a blonde woman” who was eyeing the crowd rather like Bette’s sister did while on bodyguard duty. “And a man with graying black hair.” The man turned and Marta said in a rush “Oh, it’s true, then, Professor – look, it’s the former Fuhrer! They must be about to appoint him chancellor…” Marta assumed that Elric had heard the rumours about the newly retired Fuhrer coming to the conference. Marta assumed that Elric had heard the other rumours about the Fuhrer as well… the ones that seemed to stay inside the capital’s small queer community, and never make it into the newspapers.
Elric was silent, suddenly still beside her, and she turned to see a half startled look on his face change to one of wolfish intensity. Was he…?
She looked back towards the entrance, where the former Fuhrer was politely and smoothly greeting people and not looking towards her professor at all. Elric grumbled “Self satisfied, smarmy bastard...” and grinned up at her before lounging against the wall. Marta looked from Elric to the man busy across the room, and then discovered the blonde woman watching her. Another drink was definitely in order.
Two hours later, the room was emptying out for a night’s rest or smaller parties. Former Fuhrer and soon to be Chancellor Mustang had made his way around the room and finally disengaged himself from a last admirer and smirked as he stepped across to Marta and her mentor. His blonde shadow followed “Edward, how nice to see you again.” the woman said, and leaned over to kiss the professor on his cheek.
“Riza.” he replied, and held her forearm for a moment. His voice was warm and affectionate until he turned to glare over her shoulder. “Bastard.”
Marta blinked, disconcerted at a greeting that was rude even by Elric’s bare standards.
The blonde woman – Riza, rolled her eyes, and held out her hand. “And you are Marta. Riza Hawkeye, pleased to finally meet you.”
Finally meet? What? Marta had worked with Elric for three years, but…
The other woman’s attention slid to the men, and Marta’s followed. The professor was scowling up into the handsome face of the man before him. The man who was saying “Fullmetal.” As though it were an invitation. “It’s been what, two years?” The man who was unfastening the top button of his shirt and continuing in a low husky voice. “I hear you’re down a historian at the university recently.”
Elric flushed, and Marta bit her lip. Down a historian indeed, after an infamous shouting match in the faculty dining room between then lovers over the appropriate role of force in Ishvalla.
Riza coughed, and the two men looked over, the dark haired man rueful. “Edward, rude as always, won’t you introduce me to your lovely assistant?”
Elric gave Marta a sharp look. “Mustang, I believe you have FILES on my assistant. Marta, this is Roy Mustang. Former leader of the country, currently an academic dilettante, always an unrepentant manipulative bastard.”
Now it was her professor’s turn to smirk, and Mustang’s turn to scowl. “I prefer the term” and now the two men locked eyes “elder statesman”. Mustang put one hand flat against the wall above Elric’s shoulder.
Marta couldn’t look away.
“So much more…” Mustang leaned in, far closer than anyone hoarding discretion ought, “leeway.” Elric’s eyes dropped to the other man’s mouth for a moment, and then his own mouth quirked in a hungry grin as they looked, just looked at one another for a long moment.
