[fic] honooko: Variations: Roy and 'Roy'
Entry: Variations Arc
Title: Roy and 'Roy'
Author: honooko
Rating: PG
Warning: Swearing. Spoilers for Winry's parents.
Summary: In this world, there was a boy who seemed pissed at Roy Mustang's very existence.
Mustang didn’t know why he’d been left with the boy who looked like Edward, but shared his own name. He wasn’t sure how it happened either, but he suspected a wrench to the head had been involved. Winry and Mrs Elric seemed determined that Mustang knew what was going on, and Edward “suggested” he fix it.
Damn Edward.
So Mustang found himself sitting on the floor, with his back against the door, talking to someone he didn’t know, about something he wasn’t entirely sure he was at fault for. It was all terribly confusing, and the silence on the other side wasn’t helping.
“Your name is Roy, correct?” he said, resorting to babbling small talk. “So is mine, actually. Lt Colonel Roy Mustang.”
“I know who you are, dipshit,” the boy replied through the door. Mustang was momentarily torn between anger at the insult, and joy at some sign of progress. He settled on the latter, and laughed in what he hoped was a friendly way.
“Ah, you’ve heard of me? I’m Winry’s friend from Central-“ he began, but suddenly the boy opposite him pounded the door with one fist, and hissed at him through the crack. Mustang froze at the words.
“You killed her parents, you asshole. You can never be her friend.”
Mustang couldn’t breathe. There was blood, so much blood, was it supposed to spurt like that? Oh look, that’s his brain on my pant leg, and she’s smiling and God oh God. A daughter, they have a daughter, and now she’s alone, what have I done what have I fucking done-
The boy opened the door.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, eyeing Mustang with what looked like... concern? Pity? He couldn’t tell. “Snap out of it.”
Mustang merely stared at him, head still ringing with gunshots that were nearly a decade old. The boy shifted uncomfortably, and jabbed out a hand. Mustang took it, registering somewhere in the back of his mind that it was automail. The boy dragged him into the room and shut the door behind him. Mustang sat down in a chair, a bit heavier than he intended.
“This one doesn’t know.” the boy said, looking at Mustang, but not really seeing him. Roy wondered briefly what they boy meant by ‘this one’, but felt he’d rather not ask. The boy climbed onto the bed in the corner, and crossed his legs, facing Mustang.
The automail foot was clearly visable.
Mustang regained his composure, and smiled at the boy smoothly. The Edward look-alike seemed nonplussed, and scowled at the lines and stars on his epaulettes.
“Why the hell are you still a Lt Colonel?” he asked, as if Mustang had withheld a promotion just to annoy him. He continued, growing more frustrated as he ranted. In his agitation, he climbed off the bed and began to pace quickly across the floor. “Don’t tell me you need me just to climb one rank, you lazy ass. It’s all your fault anyhow. It’s always your fault; you’re the one that sits behind the desk and smirks while I run around like a chicken with its head cut off doing your nefarious bidding! It doesn’t matter where I go, does it? You’ll still be lurking, just to piss me off!”
Mustang wasn’t entirely sure what ‘nefarious’ meant, but he kept his confusion off his face, allowing a smirk to slide into its place. The boy whirled on him at the end of his rampage, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“It’s entirely your fault! I can’t even visit the damn Library to research because I don’t have my fucking watch! It’s YOUR FAULT!”
Mustang had no idea what was his fault, so he simply continued to smirk. This seemed to be the wrong thing to do however, because the boy leapt across the floor in one swift movement and began to throttle him.
“STOP SMIRKING, ASSHOLE!”
Mustang stopped, deciding that breathing was more important at the moment. The boy let him go with a shriek of rage, and Mustang’s head thumped against the floor. As he sat up, rubbing his throat, the boy froze.
His eyes widened.
He turned, a feral grin spreading across his face.
And with a few simple words from the boy’s mouth, Mustang knew the meaning of true fear.
“I’m going to become a State Alchemist again. And you’re going to help me.”
Title: Roy and 'Roy'
Author: honooko
Rating: PG
Warning: Swearing. Spoilers for Winry's parents.
Summary: In this world, there was a boy who seemed pissed at Roy Mustang's very existence.
Mustang didn’t know why he’d been left with the boy who looked like Edward, but shared his own name. He wasn’t sure how it happened either, but he suspected a wrench to the head had been involved. Winry and Mrs Elric seemed determined that Mustang knew what was going on, and Edward “suggested” he fix it.
Damn Edward.
So Mustang found himself sitting on the floor, with his back against the door, talking to someone he didn’t know, about something he wasn’t entirely sure he was at fault for. It was all terribly confusing, and the silence on the other side wasn’t helping.
“Your name is Roy, correct?” he said, resorting to babbling small talk. “So is mine, actually. Lt Colonel Roy Mustang.”
“I know who you are, dipshit,” the boy replied through the door. Mustang was momentarily torn between anger at the insult, and joy at some sign of progress. He settled on the latter, and laughed in what he hoped was a friendly way.
“Ah, you’ve heard of me? I’m Winry’s friend from Central-“ he began, but suddenly the boy opposite him pounded the door with one fist, and hissed at him through the crack. Mustang froze at the words.
“You killed her parents, you asshole. You can never be her friend.”
Mustang couldn’t breathe. There was blood, so much blood, was it supposed to spurt like that? Oh look, that’s his brain on my pant leg, and she’s smiling and God oh God. A daughter, they have a daughter, and now she’s alone, what have I done what have I fucking done-
The boy opened the door.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, eyeing Mustang with what looked like... concern? Pity? He couldn’t tell. “Snap out of it.”
Mustang merely stared at him, head still ringing with gunshots that were nearly a decade old. The boy shifted uncomfortably, and jabbed out a hand. Mustang took it, registering somewhere in the back of his mind that it was automail. The boy dragged him into the room and shut the door behind him. Mustang sat down in a chair, a bit heavier than he intended.
“This one doesn’t know.” the boy said, looking at Mustang, but not really seeing him. Roy wondered briefly what they boy meant by ‘this one’, but felt he’d rather not ask. The boy climbed onto the bed in the corner, and crossed his legs, facing Mustang.
The automail foot was clearly visable.
Mustang regained his composure, and smiled at the boy smoothly. The Edward look-alike seemed nonplussed, and scowled at the lines and stars on his epaulettes.
“Why the hell are you still a Lt Colonel?” he asked, as if Mustang had withheld a promotion just to annoy him. He continued, growing more frustrated as he ranted. In his agitation, he climbed off the bed and began to pace quickly across the floor. “Don’t tell me you need me just to climb one rank, you lazy ass. It’s all your fault anyhow. It’s always your fault; you’re the one that sits behind the desk and smirks while I run around like a chicken with its head cut off doing your nefarious bidding! It doesn’t matter where I go, does it? You’ll still be lurking, just to piss me off!”
Mustang wasn’t entirely sure what ‘nefarious’ meant, but he kept his confusion off his face, allowing a smirk to slide into its place. The boy whirled on him at the end of his rampage, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“It’s entirely your fault! I can’t even visit the damn Library to research because I don’t have my fucking watch! It’s YOUR FAULT!”
Mustang had no idea what was his fault, so he simply continued to smirk. This seemed to be the wrong thing to do however, because the boy leapt across the floor in one swift movement and began to throttle him.
“STOP SMIRKING, ASSHOLE!”
Mustang stopped, deciding that breathing was more important at the moment. The boy let him go with a shriek of rage, and Mustang’s head thumped against the floor. As he sat up, rubbing his throat, the boy froze.
His eyes widened.
He turned, a feral grin spreading across his face.
And with a few simple words from the boy’s mouth, Mustang knew the meaning of true fear.
“I’m going to become a State Alchemist again. And you’re going to help me.”