7Chaotic Flames
The young teen walked as calmly as he could through the familiar beige halls leading to a room he always dreaded to go. This time, however, he came by his own free will on terms he wished he didn't need to resort to. He and his brother required more research money and they needed it fast. The last trip they had been on had cost them a little more than they should have spent. Though the blond's pride would keep him from verbally stating it, he knew it was his fault to some extent.
"Why does there always seem to be someone who comments on my height?" Edward growled softly to himself, folding his arms in a huff as he continued to glare straight ahead. Black leather boots kicked the clean, light green, almost white, carpet as he approached the final office door at the end of the hall. He absolutely hated it when someone even hinted at his vertically challenged...ness, and never hesitated, unless his life depended on it, to express his loathing of such vile implications.
Ed sighed, letting his flesh arm fall to his side while the white glove-covered automail hand knocked on the door with a metal-against-wood tap. After a few moments, when no sound came from behind the large oak wood door, Fullmetal shifted his golden gaze to the door knob, wondering what the hell he was even doing there.
Well, he knew why, but that still didn't explain what had motivated him to come to Headquarters on his day off. Edward folded his arms and tapped his foot, becoming more and more impatient as the seconds passed. Why didn't he just break open the door and shout at the Colonel Bastard like he always did? Golden brows furrowed slightly in thought. Perhaps because he would have to be a little nicer if he wanted to achieve his goal.
Dammit! Why the hell was he here? Ed growled, rubbing his head full of hair, frustrated with his own actions, or lack thereof. Suddenly he stopped, letting his arms fall limply and allowing his shoulders to slouch slightly. What was his problem?
Ed glared at the door, as if his anger could burn a hole through it and straight at the bastard's head. He let a smirk grace his slightly chapped lips at the mental image of Mustang trying to put out the flame engulfing his hair. How ironic, the Flame Alchemist's own head on fire and unable to control it or put it out...
He chuckled inwardly, gathering himself by fixing his hair and red over-jacket before grasping the handle and letting himself inside.
"Hey, Bast—" Ed stopped mid-shout, blinking at the empty desk stacked high with papers and various other paperwork the colonel always found a way to put off till the last second. Amber eyes glanced around the room, slowly taking in the fact that the man he came to see was, in fact, not there.
"Dammit! The one time I need to talk with him and he's not here. Figures." Ed sighed, stuffing his hands into his black leather pants pockets. Where the hell was he?
Then he got an idea. A mischievous grin curved the corners of his lips as he made his way around the room, wondering what kind of prank he should pull while the colonel was out. Glancing up at the clock, he realized it was lunch time. A light grumble met his ears. He looked around before placing a hand on his black sleeveless vest right above his stomach, feeling it growl from beneath his clothes.
Ed grinned sheepishly to himself, unable to believe he hadn't eaten yet. Never had he passed on a meal and he wouldn't break that fifteen-year streak, not if he could help it. Within seconds he found a small bag of sliced red apples on the center of the desk and didn't think twice as he ate every last one of them. It wouldn't hold off his hunger for long but it would do for now. He didn't plan on staying long from the start so planning an alchemic-related prank shouldn't take too long to set into action.
He glanced upward, not really looking at anything in particular as he placed a hand on his chin, deep in thought. What should he do? There were so many answers to that question but none he came up with satisfied him. His hazy, aimless gaze became more intense as he tried to figure out what he was going to do.
With a sigh he finally decided to just screw it all and go home. He wouldn't be able to come back in until tomorrow so maybe he would just deal with it then. Ed smiled, imagining his usual ignorance of protocol and respect as he burst into the door and demanded or complained about whatever was on his mind. He loved being the youngest State Alchemist in the Military. He always got away with acts such as that. Of course, if he hurt someone somehow, then of course he would take action and responsibility, but he was always careful of others when he performed such a feat.
As he turned away from the desk, he stopped in his tracks, noticing the top drawer on the other side of the desk slightly ajar. Peaking out from the small visible space of the inside of the wooden box were a familiar pair of white gloves, little pieces of red stitching sitting upon their surface.
Tentatively, he walked around the rolling black desk chair and approached the drawer, his feelings much the opposite of when he was making his way towards the door. Hesitantly the blond opened the drawer all the way, taking in the sight fully. On top of a small stack of various papers, some official and others not, were the famous pair of white ignition cloth gloves that allowed the Flame Alchemist to produce sparks. The adorning red-stitched transmutation circle on the back of them allowed him to control the oxygen density in the air and use his fire alchemy.
His breath hitched in his throat, golden eyes staring blankly at the gloves as if looking away would kill him. And yet, he felt that if he kept looking without a single hint of action they would somehow come to life and burn him for being rude. His dear mother had told him that staring was rude, and so, despite the hand-shaped cloth not being any more than that—cloth—he still felt the need to stop staring.
Never before had he seen these gloves either outside of Roy's blue military pockets or on his hands. Letting out a breath he had forgotten he was holding in, he took the final step in the direction of the gloves. Ed gave as quick glance around the room, making sure no one else was in there with him, hiding in the shadows to see what he would do, and that he had, in fact, shut the door behind him. With a sigh of content, he carefully picked up the gloves and held them up to inspect them.
Though he wouldn't dare admit it aloud, he respected this power. Fire was a force to be reckoned with if misused, but if understood it could be a friend—an ally. That was the only thing he could definitely admit to himself that he respected Mustang for. His ability to be able to manipulate the burning flames of death into a friendly spark or destructive blast used to help his own cause.
Slowly Edward's thoughts began to drift to what ifs. His train of thought crashed as one idea flashed in his mind. Pulling the gloves to eye level, Ed wondered if he could harness that power. Without a second thought, he jumped with practiced ease over the desk, stationing himself in the middle of the room. With a grin he pulled off his own gloves and slipped the Flame Colonel's on in their place, stuffing his own in his pockets.
Ed stared at them, intrigued and curious about what exactly he could do with them. He was always excited about testing his limits, especially when it came to alchemy. There was nothing more he liked to spend his extra time doing than testing his alchemic limits.
He studied them carefully, flipping his hands over slowly, and took in the visible knowledge they held within their stitched red circles. Even as he absorbed the intricate lines and complex curves that seemed simple to the untrained eyes, he couldn't help but feel a little deflated when he realized something. He had no idea of the logic and theories behind flame alchemy, this specific art in particular.
Plopping unceremoniously onto the light blue-carpeted floor, Ed stared at the backs of his gloved hands, tracing the grotesque yet simple figures on their surfaces with a scrutinizing gaze. The blond wracked his brain for information, even going so far as trying to tap into the reserves of information he had filed away to clear his mind, including much that the Gate had forced into his mind.
And yet nothing came to him, not even a spark. Edward chuckled at the irony. His search for any knowledge, any at all, only came up dry. Oh, the puns he could come up with on this! He would have to use these the next time he had an argument with Mustang. That would be soon, knowing that the only time he didn't was when he was on a mission in some place other than Central. And even then, he managed to send letters and/or reports filled with the same content he would have been vocalizing had he been in the man's presence.
His grin slipped into a frown, wondering if he could even do any flame alchemy. Amber eyes narrowed. He could do any and every other alchemy to some extent, small or all out, so what made this any different? Just because he hadn't tried before didn't mean he didn't have what it took!
With a newfound determination, Ed jumped to his feet, a broad smirk on his face. Holding up his hand in front of his head and facing away, he pressed his thumb and middle finger together just like he remembered the colonel having done so many times before...
And snapped...
FMAFMAFMAFMAFMAFMAFMAFMAFMAFMAFMA
Roy Mustang sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and rolling his shoulders as he made his way down the halls leading to his office. A yawn escaped his pale lips, slowing him for a moment before his black military combat boots carried on in their task of leading him back to his dreaded paperwork. A feeling of foreboding washed over him but he shook it off, blaming it on the fact that several stacks of papers that needed signing were waiting for him behind those doors.
And yet that feeling wouldn't leave no matter how hard he tried to shake it off. Folding his arms over his blue uniformed chest, he looked down at his hands, careful not to run into anyone or thing as he walked. Bare hands met his coal black eyes. They narrowed slightly as he wondered if that uneasy feeling nipping at his now-full stomach had something to do with the fact that, for the first time in his life, he had decided to just leave his old pair of gloves in his desk drawer and actually enjoy lunch with his subordinates.
Speaking of underlings, he knew Edward would want to come see him soon, most likely regarding more funding money. The little shrimp had let his temper get the best of him a few too many times which had lead to him being kicked out of three different hotels and a motel by the managers because he was causing a ruckus with another customer or with the person in charge themselves. Each time he had already paid for a room and each time when he was thrown out, his worried, clanking younger brother in tow, none would give him his money back. Their excuses had something to do with using government money and therefore didn't need their money back since they could just get more.
Oh, how mistaken they were. The military at the moment was a little tight on money, so it wasn't ever easy to even get a little money from the government for missions nowadays. Those boys were lucky their research and related missions were of higher priority than most and therefore granted slightly more money than other ones.
Roy sighed, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he turned a corner. 'Not much farther,' he thought with a grimace. Oh, the horrendous world of paperwork...
Mustang's nose crinkled as a familiar scent filled the air. As he approached the door leading into his office, the feeling of dread became thick like a dense fog. Without wasting a moment, he pulled his hands from his pockets and hastily reached for the stainless steel handle.
Roy opened the door and instantly he paled, standing there with his mouth agape and eyes wide open. He ran a hand through his short black hair in disbelief, taking in the sight of the room covered in scorch marks and soot in various places. Some papers were burned, and his small office tree in the corner to his right next to the door was just ash and melted plastic. And that was guaranteed to be heat resistant!
Why—?
He finally noticed grunts and urgent yelps coming from his left and his face immediately lost more blood, skin now an almost ghostly color. Edward was trying to stomp out a fire at the bottom of the light blue curtain; his bent arms were behind him as he tried rather comically to put it out. Roy noticed the familiar pair of gloves adorning the blond's hands and his own arms fell to his sides, bare hands becoming tight fists as anger quickly filled him.
Ed finally put out the fire and sighed, wiping his slightly sweaty brow in relief. He turned on his heels and stopped, looking up at Roy in surprise, eyes wide and mouth agape. Nervously chuckling, hand behind his head, he said, "Uh, heh, didn't expect you here so soon..." His voice trailed off, his eyes widening as he watched Roy's body shake from nearly uncontrollable rage.
Pointing at Ed, he seethed as calmly as possible, his eyes narrowed to impossibly thin slits, "What the hell are you doing with my gloves?"
Ed gulped and was about to say something when he regained himself, forcing down the shock at Roy's show of rage. Holding his head high and folding his arms, he replied rather nonchalantly as if it were not a big deal, "I just wanted to try it out. Watching you all the time, finding these gloves in a barely closed drawer, and my never-ending curiosity about alchemy, I couldn't help but try it out for myself."
Roy calmed down slightly, forcing the smile from surfacing. Instead he let a scowl escape his lips as he glared at the alchemic prodigy. "What gave you the right to open that drawer, slightly open or not, and take out my own gloves and use them? You don't have the proper training!"
Before Roy could take a step forward, Ed raised an eyebrow and lifted his hand up into the air, a smirk adorning his lips, before snapping. Mustang's glare melted into an awestruck look as he watched the small flames dance above the teen's fingertips.
Before they grew or got out of control, Ed opened his fingers and dispersed the dancing fire. It was amazing how much he could do within...how long had he been there? From the looks of things it hadn't been very long. 'Which only goes to show how much damage he is capable of doing within a short time period.'
His glare came back when he took in just how much damage had been done to his office. "Edward! You trashed my office!" Roy yelled, not even thinking when he used the blond's first name instead of his state given name.
Said teen flinched, knowing full well that the colonel meant business when he didn't use "Fullmetal." Ed tried to slink away but the angry man stood between him and the door. Damn his luck. Mustang walked over to his desk, watching the teen with careful eyes.
Roy bent over behind the desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling something out before closing it with a distinctive click. He stayed in that position for a few more seconds and spoke to Ed with a dark, plotting voice that made the teen nervous. "You are so unlucky I made a new pair the other day."
Before Ed could even begin to comprehend what his superior officer had just said, he was face to face with a narrow-eyed colonel, the dark haired man's hands now adorned with a newer pair of gloves.
All blood seemed to drain from Ed's face as he stared at the new gloves, already dreading his decision to come in to work today. Mustang's mischievous smirk didn't unnerve him as much as the evil glint in his usually calm, impassive black eyes.
Edward stepped back but Roy only followed, his gaze never wavering. Quickly, Ed found himself pressed against the door and Roy's hand, poised to snap, resting near the blond's neck beneath his chin. The teen began to sweat, realizing just what he had gotten himself into.
"You know, new gloves always make the best sparks..." That was it. Ed ducked just in time to avoid the small sparks that had jumped from the colonel's fingertips not seconds prior. They weren't anything too dangerous, but it was enough of a warning. Turning to face Ed, who was already back up against his desk, knocking over a pile of papers onto the floor, Roy put on an impassive mask, hiding his rising amusement.
He always did love to see his subordinates squirm when there was nothing else to do. Ed gulped, cursing himself for his selfish personal insistence of coming into the office then playing around with the gloves. This was going to be a long lesson.
Just then Roy flicked his hand in Ed's direction, snapping a rather harmless but intimidating flame his way. Ed tried to snap back but quickly resorted to just running and dodging the small bursts of flames.
"Fine, bastard! You can have them back!" Edward shouted as he dodged yet another horizontal tower of flames.
Roy chuckled, letting his signature smirk resurface. "You're not getting away with it that easily, Fullmetal."
Ed groaned but made sure to dodge the oncoming strikes. He let out a small yelp as he felt the flames tickle his rear. He jumped up, facing Mustang as he rubbed the sore spot, cursing the man under his breath. This was going to be a long day indeed.
He couldn't believe he had delved into this, and now it was going to be the death of him if he weren't careful. Damn chaotic flames! Ed yelped as he dodged yet another burst of fire, rolling to the side. Quickly he reached for the door and without a second thought, yanked off the gloves, threw them behind him, and raced out.
Mustang chuckled to himself as he picked the gloves up off the ground, plopping down in his chair. He opened the bottom drawer and placed his old gloves inside before closing and locking it.
Just as he was settling in for a nap, the door opened to reveal a calm Hawkeye, before she noticed the state of the room. Brown eyes narrowed as they scanned the scene, finally landing on the only flame alchemy user she knew.
"Roy!"
Said man nearly jumped out of his skin at her firm tone, the underlying threat of pulling out her gun if necessary lingering behind her words. Throwing his hands up in defense, he replied hastily, "But it was Full—"
"I don't care who it was, Roy; you will clean this up." Giving him no time to protest further, she closed the door behind her. Mustang sighed, grimacing as he glanced around the room.
"Oh, and you have more paperwork to do, as well," Hawkeye added, peaking her head into the reopened door.
Roy threw a glare at the wall, hearing the snickers through the door from his other subordinates. Turning back to Riza, he forced a smile and replied, "Yes ma'am."
The blond First Lieutenant placed the extra plies of paperwork on the slightly charred desk and left the Colonel to brood.
The front door slammed open and in came a soot-covered and clothes-scorched blond, grumbling with his arms crossed as he entered the living room of his and his brother's apartment. Alphonse poked his metal head from the kitchen and instantly his echoing voice sounded with concern. "Brother! What happened to you?"
Ed grumbled something then went to his room, slamming the door behind him. Al stared after him.
"What about gloves?"