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whiskeycoffeeTitle: Some Other Beginning
Author: m.jules
Rating: Hard R for the whole thing
Summary: "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Alphonse Elric helps Roy Mustang face life after more tragedy than one man should endure and finds something for himself in the process.
Pairing: mainly Roy/Al, with hints of and references to others. (Including, but not limited to, Ed/Winry, Al/Paninya, Gracia/Maes/Roy/Riza, and Al/Elicia.)
Disclaimer: Arakawa would KILL me. I bow low in supplication.
Author's Notes: This was meant to be "The Story That Proves In-Character Roy/Al Is Possible." Don't know if it worked. For my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
7stages claim, prompt "New every morning."
Much love to the usual suspects for the beta.
This is manga-verse, with every chapter yet released and scanlated as fair game for spoilers and many liberties taken as far as speculation about the future. If you want to know how Al got his body back, Yet Gentle and The Frost of Awakening can be considered my default answer to that question for now at least.
I am posting one chapter every Monday. Previous chapters can be found here.
A/N Part Two: I'm posting this a few hours early for those of us in the Eastern Time Zone, but it's Christmas, after all. So Merry Christmas and all the wonderful wishes that go with it, whether you celebrate or not (because I can wish you good things no matter what you celebrate!). A special note for some of you who might appreciate it: The chapter title is a nod to the Delgado's "Woke From Dreaming."
The sun felt warm on his bare skin, the cool spring breeze raising gooseflesh in its wake, and the girl in his arms was soft and pretty.
"Al, are you sure we're not --" Paninya began anxiously, looking back the way they'd come though they were far enough out that the old farmhouse wasn't visible.
"It's fine," Al interrupted with a laugh, his fingers skipping up her arm. "I promise you, no one is going to be looking for us. Besides, Winry's practically holding Ed captive right now. She's trying to perfect a new recipe." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, letting his fingertips trail down her spine. He could feel the irregularities of the terrain beneath the soft quilt they lay on and shifted a little to take the pressure off his hip. The movement had the happy fortune of bringing his body closer to his girlfriend's and he decided that the offending lump of earth might just be his favorite feature of Resembool at the moment. "You hardly ever get to come out here; we might as well enjoy the day."
Paninya grinned through a vivid blush and let her hand slide into his hair. He noticed she kept her legs away from him; even after all this time, she betrayed hints of insecurity about the automail during intimacy. She appreciated it in all other areas of her life, but she'd once expressed a concern that she might accidentally hurt him with the pinching joints or the hard edges. Determined to distract her from that, he levered himself over her, trapping her between his arms, and set about his pleasurable task with caresses meant to tickle as much as arouse.
He stopped, alarmed, when her quiet laughter shifted to moans that weren't at all happy, and pulled back. "Paninya?"
Her face twisted in distress and he felt rather than saw the landscape around them go dark when she whimpered "No," and pushed weakly at his shoulder.
"Ninya, what's wrong?"
A shattering sound jolted him upright, stripping the dream from him and leaving only ragged edges of sensation behind. He looked around, disoriented, his mind struggling to catch up to his body as he scrambled to remember where he was and why he was there. A loud moan from the room across the hall helped him put the puzzle pieces together and he stumbled out of the bed, annoyed when the sheets tangled around his legs, slowing him for a moment.
He staggered across the hall into Roy's room, his brow furrowing with distress when he saw that Roy had managed to kick off all his blankets and was tangled in his sheets, a sheen of sweat coating the man's body. There were shards of glass on the floor from where he'd knocked his water glass off the night stand and Al made sure to stand clear.
Roy's nightmares had become less frequent lately but he'd had them often enough in the beginning that Al knew exactly how to handle them. He frowned as he took in the state of Roy's bed and the way his hair was plastered against his head with perspiration. This was a bad one, but it was anybody's guess as to which of Roy's ghosts was haunting him now. The man had a whole graveyard living in his head.
"Roy," Al called, his tone almost conversational, standing a good distance away. Sometimes Roy came up swinging. "Roy, it's okay. You're asleep. You're dreaming. Wake up, Roy." The man tossed his head, grunting, and his limbs jerked. Al's eyes flickered down to his injured leg, checking to make sure he wasn't in danger of hitting it against anything. "Roy," he called more firmly. "It's Alphonse. I'm here. It's okay. You need to wake up now."
There was a sharp intake of breath and midnight-dark eyes shot open, but Roy didn't move other than that and Al wasn't sure the man was actually awake. "Roy?"
Mustang turned his head slowly and Al barely kept himself from recoiling at the raw terror in his eyes. The man fairly stank of fear.
"...Alphonse?" His voice was a hoarse parody of itself and Al nodded, reaching behind himself to pull up the wooden chair they'd started keeping in Roy's room for just these occasions, perching his bare feet on the lower rung to avoid the glass. "Was dreaming," Roy said as if it weren't obvious, scrubbing his hand over his face as if he could wipe away the residue of the night images. Al didn't say what he thought, that it wouldn't be nearly so bad if they were only dreams and not memories.
"You okay?" he asked instead.
Roy frowned but didn't look at him as he answered, a note of embarrassment in his voice. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm sorry to have woken you; I won't keep you up."
"I don't mind," Al said, valiantly fighting back a yawn as he leaned back in the chair. "I'll stay until you go back to sleep." They both knew that once the nightmares had Roy, they didn't like to give him up. He was likely to have another one as soon as he fell asleep again. Roy nodded, a jerky tilt of his chin, and Al frowned as he leaned over to pick the blankets up off the floor, careful to keep his feet away from the glass. He helped Mustang pull them back over his body, sure he could detect a hint of an angry flush to Roy's complexion even in the darkness. He knew the man hated his weakness, hated having to be helped.
As soon as he thought Roy could handle it, Al let go of the blankets and settled back awkwardly. He could read the tension in Roy's body even under the covers, and he cast about for something he could talk about that might help take Mustang's mind off whatever had been tormenting him.
"I was dreaming about Paninya," Al began conversationally, ignoring the way Roy stiffened with guilt at the reminder that he'd woken Al. "It's kind of odd. I was dreaming about back when we were still together, this one time she came to Resembool a couple of years ago. I haven't thought about that in a long time." He smiled a little, careful not to look at Roy, to give the man time to reassemble a bit of his dignity. "I mean, we're friends now, but I haven't thought about her in that way in a while. She liked Resembool. I think you kind of can't help liking it -- it's so peaceful, all the forests and meadows. You just kind of feel hidden all the way out there."
"Do you ever miss it?" Roy asked, fidgeting a little.
"Well, in some ways. I mean, Central's nice, and this is a nice location, on the outskirts. I like it better here than I do downtown Central; I like having the woods out back, the little stream. You've even got room for a garden if you wanted one. But we're still close enough to the city that it doesn't take all day to go to the market to pick up something for dinner." Al shrugged. "Do you ever miss Eastern?"
Roy seemed a little surprised at having the question turned back on him, but Al could tell the man was beginning to relax. Conversation seemed to help. "The East holds a special place in my heart," he answered, something deep to his tone. Al smiled, remembering that it had been the troops from Eastern -- those rural "country bumpkins" that the fuhrer had deemed a non-threat and practically exiled -- who had made the infamous overthrow possible. It was because of them that Amestris was now a democracy.
"Still," Roy continued, a note of amusement entering his voice, "I'm not sure I could say I miss it, exactly. Like you said, it's nice living close to the city."
Al gave a short laugh as a memory surfaced of one of the many times he and Ed had gone to headquarters to make a report while Roy was stationed in Eastern, and he began, "Do you remember the time when you sent Ed to check on the rumors of illegal transmutations in ... oh, what was that town's name? ... anyway, you know, with the farmer who said his geese were laying golden eggs?"
Roy chuckled and nodded. "I do think I remember something like that, yes. What happened, again?"
Al launched into his odd bedtime story and watched Roy begin to drift off again, the steady cadence of Al's voice lulling him back to sleep. Al let his volume fade gradually until he'd trailed off and Roy's deep, even breathing was the only sound in the room. Al stayed where he was, watching Roy for signs of returning nightmares. He hoped he'd managed to get Mustang's mind onto different tracks, but he wasn't going to take a chance. Just when he was starting to think they were home free, Roy's brow furrowed and a small whine worked out of his throat.
Al reached out and brushed Roy's bangs away from his face, letting his fingers smooth over the skin of his forehead and temples, hoping the touch would soothe him, ground him, and chase away the dreams before they had him completely in their grasp. Sure enough, Roy relaxed almost immediately and Al sighed with relief. Still, he kept up his light petting, almost afraid to take his hand away lest the monsters of Roy's subconscious return. He yawned, mentally bargaining with himself to stay up just a little while longer, but before he quite realized it, his tiredness overtook him and he slept, slouched in the wooden chair, his hand still resting on Roy's head like an amulet to ward off the past.
Al woke to a stiffness in his neck and shoulders and groaned as he tried to sit up, his lower back protesting, only to realize he was already sitting up. There was a warm weight in his hand and he opened his eyes, blinking blearily to see that he was cradling Roy's head in his palm, the man having turned his face to lean into the touch. His memory slowly returned and he gently attempted to get his hand back, feeling pins and needles from the appendage all the way up his arm. He bit his lip and winced, then began to uncurl from the chair, remembering at the last second the pieces of glass below him.
He turned and twisted until he could get out of the chair, his legs every bit as unwilling to move as his back had been, and grimaced as he limped his first few steps out of the room. His bladder demanded attention before anything else could be taken care of, but after that, he made a trip down to the kitchen for the dustpan and broom and headed back up to Roy's room. The glass needed to be cleaned up before Roy awoke and accidentally put his feet down in it.
As he was finishing, standing with the dustpan full of glassy splinters in his hand, he noticed that Roy was awake and watching him.
"Thank you," Roy rasped, his eyes flickering to the chair that was still close to the bed. "Did you spend the night here?"
Al knew the man well enough by now to recognize the subtle note of distress in Roy's voice and smiled. "Didn't mean to, exactly, but yes, I did." He shrugged. "I'm going to get started on breakfast. Call me if you need any help." He knew that brushing over the situation helped Roy sometimes, and he didn't wait for a response before he headed downstairs to do just what he'd said.
He had the beginnings of a stack of pancakes on a plate -- no matter what Roy's appetite looked like this morning, Al was sure he could finish them off himself with no problem -- and was thinking about starting to fry some bacon when he heard the slow, heavy thump of Roy's step on the stairs, accented by the sound of the canes. He paused, looking toward the doorway, holding his breath to hear better in case Mustang needed help.
It wasn't long before the man came shuffling through the door and sank wearily into the nearest chair, leaning his canes against the wall. Al bit his lip thoughtfully as he flipped the pancake in the skillet.
"Maybe," he started uncertainly, "Maybe we should set up a bed downstairs for a little while. I could sleep on the couch. But that way you wouldn't have to --"
"No," Roy interrupted flatly. "Thank you, Alphonse, but no." At Al's evaluating look, he continued, "I have lost too much to voluntarily give up any more. It would only be an excuse for laziness. Rather than conserve my strength, it would rob me of it."
Al nodded, seeing Roy's point, and smiled a little to himself. It was true Mustang had been struck down severely but moments like these, when the man he remembered was clearly visible amidst the emotional rubble, gave him hope. He slid the pancake onto a plate, wondering briefly what the warm sensation in his chest was. Pride? Possibly. Admiration? That, too. Or maybe he was just standing too close to the stove, he chuckled.
He set the first plate, with three pancakes on it, in front of Roy along with silverware, the butter dish, and a jar of syrup. Roy looked ready to wait until Al had his own breakfast but Al gestured to the plate.
"Go ahead and eat before they get too cold to melt the butter," he said. "I've still got plenty to go, and there's bacon coming, too."
Roy nodded, putting little scoops of butter on the pancakes and pushing it around to make it melt faster. "I've noticed, Alphonse," he said without looking up, "That you never ask me what my nightmares are."
Al faltered, surprised at the non sequitur, and glanced at Roy before he poured more batter into the skillet. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" he asked quietly. "What they are, I mean. I know what they do to you." He frowned as he watched the batter, waiting for the little bubbles in the top that would let him know the bottom was cooked and ready to be flipped over. "Dreams are deeply private. I wouldn't ask you to tell me."
"And yet you told me yours with hardly a second thought," Roy pointed out in a tone of voice that let Al know he wasn't going to give this up. Still, Al just shrugged.
"You needed something that wasn't bad," he answered, still not looking at Roy. "I didn't mind sharing." He pushed the spatula underneath the pancake, testing its doneness. A few more seconds and it would be ready.
When Al had flipped the pancake and Roy still hadn't said anything, he chanced a glance over his shoulder to see the man staring at Al's back, his breakfast untouched in front of him. Before he could ask what was wrong, though, Roy simply said, "Thank you," and cut into his pancakes.
"You're welcome," Al said just as seriously, then turned back to his cooking with the strange feeling that something was beginning to shift.
Author: m.jules
Rating: Hard R for the whole thing
Summary: "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Alphonse Elric helps Roy Mustang face life after more tragedy than one man should endure and finds something for himself in the process.
Pairing: mainly Roy/Al, with hints of and references to others. (Including, but not limited to, Ed/Winry, Al/Paninya, Gracia/Maes/Roy/Riza, and Al/Elicia.)
Disclaimer: Arakawa would KILL me. I bow low in supplication.
Author's Notes: This was meant to be "The Story That Proves In-Character Roy/Al Is Possible." Don't know if it worked. For my
7stages claim, prompt "New every morning." Much love to the usual suspects for the beta.
This is manga-verse, with every chapter yet released and scanlated as fair game for spoilers and many liberties taken as far as speculation about the future. If you want to know how Al got his body back, Yet Gentle and The Frost of Awakening can be considered my default answer to that question for now at least.
I am posting one chapter every Monday. Previous chapters can be found here.
A/N Part Two: I'm posting this a few hours early for those of us in the Eastern Time Zone, but it's Christmas, after all. So Merry Christmas and all the wonderful wishes that go with it, whether you celebrate or not (because I can wish you good things no matter what you celebrate!). A special note for some of you who might appreciate it: The chapter title is a nod to the Delgado's "Woke From Dreaming."
The sun felt warm on his bare skin, the cool spring breeze raising gooseflesh in its wake, and the girl in his arms was soft and pretty.
"Al, are you sure we're not --" Paninya began anxiously, looking back the way they'd come though they were far enough out that the old farmhouse wasn't visible.
"It's fine," Al interrupted with a laugh, his fingers skipping up her arm. "I promise you, no one is going to be looking for us. Besides, Winry's practically holding Ed captive right now. She's trying to perfect a new recipe." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, letting his fingertips trail down her spine. He could feel the irregularities of the terrain beneath the soft quilt they lay on and shifted a little to take the pressure off his hip. The movement had the happy fortune of bringing his body closer to his girlfriend's and he decided that the offending lump of earth might just be his favorite feature of Resembool at the moment. "You hardly ever get to come out here; we might as well enjoy the day."
Paninya grinned through a vivid blush and let her hand slide into his hair. He noticed she kept her legs away from him; even after all this time, she betrayed hints of insecurity about the automail during intimacy. She appreciated it in all other areas of her life, but she'd once expressed a concern that she might accidentally hurt him with the pinching joints or the hard edges. Determined to distract her from that, he levered himself over her, trapping her between his arms, and set about his pleasurable task with caresses meant to tickle as much as arouse.
He stopped, alarmed, when her quiet laughter shifted to moans that weren't at all happy, and pulled back. "Paninya?"
Her face twisted in distress and he felt rather than saw the landscape around them go dark when she whimpered "No," and pushed weakly at his shoulder.
"Ninya, what's wrong?"
A shattering sound jolted him upright, stripping the dream from him and leaving only ragged edges of sensation behind. He looked around, disoriented, his mind struggling to catch up to his body as he scrambled to remember where he was and why he was there. A loud moan from the room across the hall helped him put the puzzle pieces together and he stumbled out of the bed, annoyed when the sheets tangled around his legs, slowing him for a moment.
He staggered across the hall into Roy's room, his brow furrowing with distress when he saw that Roy had managed to kick off all his blankets and was tangled in his sheets, a sheen of sweat coating the man's body. There were shards of glass on the floor from where he'd knocked his water glass off the night stand and Al made sure to stand clear.
Roy's nightmares had become less frequent lately but he'd had them often enough in the beginning that Al knew exactly how to handle them. He frowned as he took in the state of Roy's bed and the way his hair was plastered against his head with perspiration. This was a bad one, but it was anybody's guess as to which of Roy's ghosts was haunting him now. The man had a whole graveyard living in his head.
"Roy," Al called, his tone almost conversational, standing a good distance away. Sometimes Roy came up swinging. "Roy, it's okay. You're asleep. You're dreaming. Wake up, Roy." The man tossed his head, grunting, and his limbs jerked. Al's eyes flickered down to his injured leg, checking to make sure he wasn't in danger of hitting it against anything. "Roy," he called more firmly. "It's Alphonse. I'm here. It's okay. You need to wake up now."
There was a sharp intake of breath and midnight-dark eyes shot open, but Roy didn't move other than that and Al wasn't sure the man was actually awake. "Roy?"
Mustang turned his head slowly and Al barely kept himself from recoiling at the raw terror in his eyes. The man fairly stank of fear.
"...Alphonse?" His voice was a hoarse parody of itself and Al nodded, reaching behind himself to pull up the wooden chair they'd started keeping in Roy's room for just these occasions, perching his bare feet on the lower rung to avoid the glass. "Was dreaming," Roy said as if it weren't obvious, scrubbing his hand over his face as if he could wipe away the residue of the night images. Al didn't say what he thought, that it wouldn't be nearly so bad if they were only dreams and not memories.
"You okay?" he asked instead.
Roy frowned but didn't look at him as he answered, a note of embarrassment in his voice. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm sorry to have woken you; I won't keep you up."
"I don't mind," Al said, valiantly fighting back a yawn as he leaned back in the chair. "I'll stay until you go back to sleep." They both knew that once the nightmares had Roy, they didn't like to give him up. He was likely to have another one as soon as he fell asleep again. Roy nodded, a jerky tilt of his chin, and Al frowned as he leaned over to pick the blankets up off the floor, careful to keep his feet away from the glass. He helped Mustang pull them back over his body, sure he could detect a hint of an angry flush to Roy's complexion even in the darkness. He knew the man hated his weakness, hated having to be helped.
As soon as he thought Roy could handle it, Al let go of the blankets and settled back awkwardly. He could read the tension in Roy's body even under the covers, and he cast about for something he could talk about that might help take Mustang's mind off whatever had been tormenting him.
"I was dreaming about Paninya," Al began conversationally, ignoring the way Roy stiffened with guilt at the reminder that he'd woken Al. "It's kind of odd. I was dreaming about back when we were still together, this one time she came to Resembool a couple of years ago. I haven't thought about that in a long time." He smiled a little, careful not to look at Roy, to give the man time to reassemble a bit of his dignity. "I mean, we're friends now, but I haven't thought about her in that way in a while. She liked Resembool. I think you kind of can't help liking it -- it's so peaceful, all the forests and meadows. You just kind of feel hidden all the way out there."
"Do you ever miss it?" Roy asked, fidgeting a little.
"Well, in some ways. I mean, Central's nice, and this is a nice location, on the outskirts. I like it better here than I do downtown Central; I like having the woods out back, the little stream. You've even got room for a garden if you wanted one. But we're still close enough to the city that it doesn't take all day to go to the market to pick up something for dinner." Al shrugged. "Do you ever miss Eastern?"
Roy seemed a little surprised at having the question turned back on him, but Al could tell the man was beginning to relax. Conversation seemed to help. "The East holds a special place in my heart," he answered, something deep to his tone. Al smiled, remembering that it had been the troops from Eastern -- those rural "country bumpkins" that the fuhrer had deemed a non-threat and practically exiled -- who had made the infamous overthrow possible. It was because of them that Amestris was now a democracy.
"Still," Roy continued, a note of amusement entering his voice, "I'm not sure I could say I miss it, exactly. Like you said, it's nice living close to the city."
Al gave a short laugh as a memory surfaced of one of the many times he and Ed had gone to headquarters to make a report while Roy was stationed in Eastern, and he began, "Do you remember the time when you sent Ed to check on the rumors of illegal transmutations in ... oh, what was that town's name? ... anyway, you know, with the farmer who said his geese were laying golden eggs?"
Roy chuckled and nodded. "I do think I remember something like that, yes. What happened, again?"
Al launched into his odd bedtime story and watched Roy begin to drift off again, the steady cadence of Al's voice lulling him back to sleep. Al let his volume fade gradually until he'd trailed off and Roy's deep, even breathing was the only sound in the room. Al stayed where he was, watching Roy for signs of returning nightmares. He hoped he'd managed to get Mustang's mind onto different tracks, but he wasn't going to take a chance. Just when he was starting to think they were home free, Roy's brow furrowed and a small whine worked out of his throat.
Al reached out and brushed Roy's bangs away from his face, letting his fingers smooth over the skin of his forehead and temples, hoping the touch would soothe him, ground him, and chase away the dreams before they had him completely in their grasp. Sure enough, Roy relaxed almost immediately and Al sighed with relief. Still, he kept up his light petting, almost afraid to take his hand away lest the monsters of Roy's subconscious return. He yawned, mentally bargaining with himself to stay up just a little while longer, but before he quite realized it, his tiredness overtook him and he slept, slouched in the wooden chair, his hand still resting on Roy's head like an amulet to ward off the past.
Al woke to a stiffness in his neck and shoulders and groaned as he tried to sit up, his lower back protesting, only to realize he was already sitting up. There was a warm weight in his hand and he opened his eyes, blinking blearily to see that he was cradling Roy's head in his palm, the man having turned his face to lean into the touch. His memory slowly returned and he gently attempted to get his hand back, feeling pins and needles from the appendage all the way up his arm. He bit his lip and winced, then began to uncurl from the chair, remembering at the last second the pieces of glass below him.
He turned and twisted until he could get out of the chair, his legs every bit as unwilling to move as his back had been, and grimaced as he limped his first few steps out of the room. His bladder demanded attention before anything else could be taken care of, but after that, he made a trip down to the kitchen for the dustpan and broom and headed back up to Roy's room. The glass needed to be cleaned up before Roy awoke and accidentally put his feet down in it.
As he was finishing, standing with the dustpan full of glassy splinters in his hand, he noticed that Roy was awake and watching him.
"Thank you," Roy rasped, his eyes flickering to the chair that was still close to the bed. "Did you spend the night here?"
Al knew the man well enough by now to recognize the subtle note of distress in Roy's voice and smiled. "Didn't mean to, exactly, but yes, I did." He shrugged. "I'm going to get started on breakfast. Call me if you need any help." He knew that brushing over the situation helped Roy sometimes, and he didn't wait for a response before he headed downstairs to do just what he'd said.
He had the beginnings of a stack of pancakes on a plate -- no matter what Roy's appetite looked like this morning, Al was sure he could finish them off himself with no problem -- and was thinking about starting to fry some bacon when he heard the slow, heavy thump of Roy's step on the stairs, accented by the sound of the canes. He paused, looking toward the doorway, holding his breath to hear better in case Mustang needed help.
It wasn't long before the man came shuffling through the door and sank wearily into the nearest chair, leaning his canes against the wall. Al bit his lip thoughtfully as he flipped the pancake in the skillet.
"Maybe," he started uncertainly, "Maybe we should set up a bed downstairs for a little while. I could sleep on the couch. But that way you wouldn't have to --"
"No," Roy interrupted flatly. "Thank you, Alphonse, but no." At Al's evaluating look, he continued, "I have lost too much to voluntarily give up any more. It would only be an excuse for laziness. Rather than conserve my strength, it would rob me of it."
Al nodded, seeing Roy's point, and smiled a little to himself. It was true Mustang had been struck down severely but moments like these, when the man he remembered was clearly visible amidst the emotional rubble, gave him hope. He slid the pancake onto a plate, wondering briefly what the warm sensation in his chest was. Pride? Possibly. Admiration? That, too. Or maybe he was just standing too close to the stove, he chuckled.
He set the first plate, with three pancakes on it, in front of Roy along with silverware, the butter dish, and a jar of syrup. Roy looked ready to wait until Al had his own breakfast but Al gestured to the plate.
"Go ahead and eat before they get too cold to melt the butter," he said. "I've still got plenty to go, and there's bacon coming, too."
Roy nodded, putting little scoops of butter on the pancakes and pushing it around to make it melt faster. "I've noticed, Alphonse," he said without looking up, "That you never ask me what my nightmares are."
Al faltered, surprised at the non sequitur, and glanced at Roy before he poured more batter into the skillet. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" he asked quietly. "What they are, I mean. I know what they do to you." He frowned as he watched the batter, waiting for the little bubbles in the top that would let him know the bottom was cooked and ready to be flipped over. "Dreams are deeply private. I wouldn't ask you to tell me."
"And yet you told me yours with hardly a second thought," Roy pointed out in a tone of voice that let Al know he wasn't going to give this up. Still, Al just shrugged.
"You needed something that wasn't bad," he answered, still not looking at Roy. "I didn't mind sharing." He pushed the spatula underneath the pancake, testing its doneness. A few more seconds and it would be ready.
When Al had flipped the pancake and Roy still hadn't said anything, he chanced a glance over his shoulder to see the man staring at Al's back, his breakfast untouched in front of him. Before he could ask what was wrong, though, Roy simply said, "Thank you," and cut into his pancakes.
"You're welcome," Al said just as seriously, then turned back to his cooking with the strange feeling that something was beginning to shift.
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Date: 2006-12-25 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 04:53 am (UTC)I'm very horrible at reviews. >.>
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Date: 2006-12-25 04:56 am (UTC)But at any rate, I'm just glad to know you're still here! Makes me happy.
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Date: 2006-12-25 05:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 05:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 05:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 06:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 05:41 am (UTC)As always, I yearn for the next bit of this wonderful story. Merry christmas =)
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Date: 2006-12-25 05:50 am (UTC)Merry Christmas. :)
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Date: 2006-12-25 07:15 am (UTC)Great stuff. I like the way things are going, and I think you may succeed with doing an IC Roy/Al story.
I have so much trouble writing IC Al because so much of what we know of Al is tied to him as armour that I have trouble thinking of him as flesh and blood again, and determining how that changes Al's personality. You, on the other hand, are doing it beautifully.
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Date: 2006-12-25 06:52 pm (UTC)Thank you. Al occupies a lot of my thoughts. Probably too much. ;) I'm so glad you you're enjoying this, and dthank you for saying so.
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Date: 2006-12-25 09:18 am (UTC)The breakfast conversation felt very real - kind of like a car conversation. Sometimes it is easier to talk seriously when one isn't looking directly at the other person.
See you next Monday!
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Date: 2006-12-25 01:46 pm (UTC)Oh, good. *laugh* Because let me tell you, these boys move with the lightning-quick speed of a glacier. I was telling one of my betas last night (after I sent her chapter 7 to look over) that I was probably going to get strung up by my readership over how slowly these fellas move.
Thank you, and I'll see you Monday! :-D Merry Christmas.
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Date: 2006-12-25 10:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-25 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-26 02:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-26 02:02 am (UTC)Al is so wonderfully motherly, being concerned to a fault and it always wrenches me when Roy points this out.
Al being such a sweetie no wonder Roy will get attached to him.
Do I have any other coherent thoughts? No, 'cept from the fact you seem to like food.
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Date: 2006-12-29 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-28 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-29 05:20 pm (UTC)And yeah, you know, I decide my chapter titles when I post. (Seriously. Chapter Five is the only one that has a pre-decided title.) I just couldn't get that song out of my head that day...
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Date: 2007-01-01 12:28 am (UTC)*hugs Al & Roy*
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Date: 2007-01-01 04:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-17 07:34 pm (UTC)The scene with Alphonse watching his steps to avoid the glass shards felt almost ironic. I feel as if in this whole fic, Alphonse is in the middle of crossing a field full of broken glass shards to get to Roy, and he is bound to get hurt sooner or later. But he won't give up that easily. And when he finally reach the man, I hope he will be awarded with the full force of Roy's love, or what he's capable of giving. :)
The number of good things (and fangirling moments) has been steadily increasing in the next chapters, including this one. Al is such a thoughtful angel. ::cuddles him:: Omg, I must draw him wearing apron cooking dinner some day. XD You're one lucky husband, Roy. ♥
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Date: 2007-01-18 01:36 am (UTC)... of course, I kind of feel bad for what I'm going to do to you over the course of this fic... *pets you*