Research - Testing Day 1
by Granate, 2005 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Roy Mustang gave the cheering crowd one last wave before ducking into the locker room. Before he had time to glance around and see if anyone had waited up for him, a heavy leather baseball glove hit him solidly in the chest, spattering red dust everywhere. He caught it instinctively in his hands and looked up to find a furious Edward Elric only a few feet away. "You're not mad about that out, are you?" Roy smirked. Of course Ed was mad about that out. It had been beautiful. Bottom of the ninth, runner on first, Ed had really smacked the ball. It had been scooped up in the outfield as Ed tagged first and charged towards second. The throw from the outfield had been perfect and Roy caught it at second, managing to tag Ed just before he slid into the base. As the third out, it had ended the game with his team in the lead. There was no umpire to hold Ed back now, but Roy baited him anyway, "It's not my fault your legs are so short." Ed went ballistic, as he always did when his height was brought up. "Are you calling me a super midget who is too short to play baseball?!" he demanded as he waved his arms in the air and bristled like a cat trying to make itself look bigger. He clapped his hand together but Roy threw the glove back at him and he broke the circle in order to catch it. "Now, now, don't let a little intramural baseball get you bent out of shape," Roy teased as he turned to his locker. "That's it, Mustang!" Ed snarled at him. "Fine! So you're good at baseball! But you can't be good at everything! There is something you're bad at, something you're hiding, and mark my words, I WILL find it!" Roy paused as he stretched is arms over his head and looked boredly over his shoulder at Ed, who bristled again and stomped out.
"Good morning, Fullmetal," the Colonel said serenely as he sat down behind the desk. With a dangerous grin that a good portion of the Military had learned to fear, Ed whipped a packet out of his long red cape and dropped it on the desk. The thickness of it made a nice, satisfying 'thunk' when it landed. "This," he said triumphantly, "is my new research proposal. This is a list of activities for you to complete under the supervision of Alphonse or myself. Consider them tests, if you will." He turned away, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the edge of the desk. "I trust I have your full cooperation," he added as if daring the Colonel to refuse. "Of course," Roy answered genially, "I couldn't refuse a fellow National Alchemist's request for help in their research." Ed whipped around, pointing a white-gloved finger at the older man. "Don't think about backing out!" he warned, "I WILL find something you are bad at! We start today!" Roy found this too amusing to reprimand him for lack of respect for a superior officer. He'd leave that to Hawkeye. He had to bring his hand to his mouth to stifle a snicker with a delicate cough when Ed's stomach growled, breaking the silent tension. "After breakfast," Ed amended and marched to the door in a swirl of red, slamming it behind him. When he was gone, Roy took a moment to flip through the stack of papers left on his desk. Well, this was going to be interesting, he mused to himself. + Ed paced the hallway until he heard the familiar clunking sound that always announced his little brother. "Nii-san," Al greeted him, carrying a folder under his metal arm. "Well?" Ed asked eagerly. "He passed everything," Al said, handing him the folder. Ed took it with a frown and flipped through it. Today, he had Alphonse give the Colonel a series of tests from math and logic problems to tricky spelling words. Ed looked up, not dismayed in the least. "We can only expect as much from a National Alchemist," he said and his brother agreed with a wordless nod of his head. "Don't worry, Al," he continued as if Al were the one so concerned with this, "there's plenty more on this list." He took his copy of the packet out and checked off a few of the tests. Ed always tried to be thorough in his research. He had asked around before compiling this list in case there were activities he shouldn't even bother to include. Hughes had said Roy was good at chess and Candyland, although he was quick to add that Alicia-chan was still Reigning Candyland Champion around his house. Hawkeye mentioned that he was good at the shooting range. Havoc warned him against boxing, darts, and poker. He bribed Hughes into a look at his copy of Roy's Little Black Book (not asking how he got it, of course) in exchange for babysitting. He'd called a few of the women with asterisks next to their names and they said Roy Mustang was a good dancer, well-read, and familiar with theater and opera. So Ed was left with more obscure activities, but he was sure that Roy would trip up somewhere. It was impossible for a person to be good at everything. + "Well?" Roy asked, standing back from his work. He whipped the rag around in the air, waiting for Ed's answer. Ed stared at Alphonse's armor. He could see his damned reflection in it. "It's lovely, Colonel," Al nearly squealed with joy. "My pleasure, Alphonse-kun," Roy beamed. Ed glowered at them both. "Pass," he grumbled, making a checkmark on the list. + Ed watched over the top of his packet as Roy squinted and trained his sharp eyes on the target. He let the last arrow fly and it hit the white around the bulls-eye. Half of the arrows had made it into the red bulls-eye, and none had gone astray into the field. "Well?" Roy asked as he lowered his bow. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and regarded the younger man, waiting for an answer. "Pass," Ed said with a casual air and mentally reminded himself that there were plenty more tests to come. + "You smell like a barn," Roy informed Ed as he marched over to the sand pit where he had instructed the Colonel to wait for him. Ed ignored him and pulled four horseshoes out of his cape, holding them up smugly. Roy didn't take them because he was busy plucking a piece of straw from Ed's hair. "Huh, same color," he remarked absently. "Hello, down here," Ed growled. Roy flicked the straw aside and finally took the horseshoes. "What am I to do with these?" he queried. "According to Major Armstrong, you throw them at that stake there in the sand pit," Ed told him. Roy regarded the metal shoes, top lip curling up a bit in disapproval. "Throw them at the stake," he repeated. "Yeah, you try to hook them on there or something," Ed said. He noticed the Colonel's expression and added defensively, "Well, I've never played it!" "Then how are you supposed to judge whether I'm any good or not?" Roy asked, folding his arms. Ed was about to argue loudly with him when they were interrupted. "Oohhh, Elric-san and Colonel Mustang!" Armstrong greeted them effusively, "I see you are playing at the ancient and noble art of horseshoe throwing!" "Well, we would be except somebody here doesn't know the rules," Roy said, cutting a glance down at Ed, who glared back at him. "Oh, Sir! Then you can count on me, Sir! I shall teach you the Sacred Armstrong Family Technique of Horseshoe Tossing Perfection!" Armstrong crowed as he flexed in excitement and tore his shirt. + "I better have passed," Roy hissed at Ed when Armstrong and the remnants of his shirt finally left. He continued to brush sand off his blue uniform coat, beyond annoyed that the third of the twenty-five steps of the Sacred Armstrong Family Technique of Horseshoe Tossing Perfection was to 'commune' with the sand. No one needed to commune with sand that much unless there was a bikini-clad woman and a deserted beach involved. "Pass," Ed admitted, wisely hiding his grin behind the packet of papers in his hands. He knew not to mess with the Colonel when his eyes looked like that, but the truth was he hadn't been able to stop snickering for the last two hours. Such a farce had been well worth having to pass Mustang at yet another test. + "Well?" Roy asked as he skated by Ed's station behind the boards. As soon as he knew he had his examiner's attention, he switched around gracefully to skate backwards. "Pass," Ed grumbled. "What? Couldn't hear you!" Roy called from across the rink as he skated backwards in a figure eight. "I said, why don't we just award you with your sequined purple silk shirt right now!" Ed hollered at him, not bothering to curb the annoyance in his voice. + Roy pushed his safety goggles up into his dark hair and blew the last of the shavings from his creation. He removed the leather work gloves and presented Alphonse with his prize. "Nii-san, it's pretty good," Al sighed looking at it for a moment. Ed snatched it up and inspected it. "Keep it if you want," Roy said. "What am I supposed to do with a spice rack?" Edward asked dryly. "Give it to someone of course! Women love them. How about Winry? She could keep small supplies and tools in it," Roy suggested helpfully. Ed narrowed his eyes. "You seem to know a lot about it," he said almost accusingly. The older man shrugged, the very picture of innocence. "It still needs to be stained," Ed noted. Roy's shoulders fell and he put his hands on his hips. "But it passes," Ed added, crossing it off the list. + The silver foil landed gracefully at Ed's neck and he gasped. The room was dead silent except for his labored breathing until Roy yanked off his mask. "Yatta!" he exclaimed. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, nearly sighing, "Whew, Fullmetal you were really tough! Good show." "I'm passing him, Nii-san," Al said apologetically from the observation booth. Ed threw off his mask with a growl and stalked over the weapons rack. He threw his foil next to a staff and clapped his hands together. He grabbed both of them and transmuted them into a spear. He quickly made another one and turned before throwing one to Mustang, who caught it. He'd show that bastard. He didn't say a word before charging. + "Yatta! Yattaaaaa!!" Ed rejoiced as he jumped around in his sweat-dampened black tank top, brandishing the spear above his head. Roy's spear was across the room and Roy himself was on his butt on the mat in front of him. His expression was hard as he asked Alphonse, "Did I pass?" "Yes," came Al's hesitant reply. "What?! I beat him!" Ed protested wildly. "Al!" "Nii-san…" Al nearly squeaked. "Yes, you beat him, but I still can't say he was bad at it." "Al!! Traitor!" Ed bellowed, storming over to him. "Yahh!" Al yelped, "Nii-san, be fair now!" Roy smirked and stood up to unroll and smooth the sleeves of his uniform shirt as the brothers fought. + Ed sat perfectly still on the couch in Roy's office, legs crossed, arms folded unyieldingly as he waited for Roy to complete his final task of the day. "Ah!" Roy intoned, sounding pleased with himself as he snipped the red thread and turned the sleeve right side out. "There," he said, handing the red cape to Edward. "I fixed up some of the embroidery on the cuff too. You need to more careful with that automail blade," he scolded as Ed looked over his work. The tear in the sleeve was masterfully mended with tiny little stitches, neither side left raised or uneven. And the embroidery… He must have looked perturbed because Roy chuckled softly "That one is actually a Hawkeye family specialty," he admitted. "Just don't tell her I learned how to do it or I won't be able to coerce her into mending my uniforms anymore." Ed gave him a withering look. "The way you use people…" he shook his head. A smile quirked the corners of Roy's lips. "Sometimes," he said agreeably and then gently cupped Ed's jaw before leaning over and kissing him. When he pulled away, light brows were raised in mild surprise but gold eyes remained perfectly calm. "I don't remember that being on the list," Ed commented wanly. "Well?" Roy asked with a smirk. "Pass," Edward said as he got up. "On the sewing," he added through clenched teeth after a look at the Colonel's expression. "Don't get so full of yourself," he warned, the fire lighting his eyes again, "there will be more tomorrow. Don't think I'll go easy on you!" "Of course not," Roy replied as he settled back and watched Ed whirl around and stalk out. "Wouldn't want you to." |
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