The thing about love...

getyourwordsout 2014 bingo

2014-07-23T01:58:42Z

Belt Progression (Click links for samples of Special Bingos)
White Belt: complete 1 Bingo, any way
Yellow Belt: complete 2 Bingos, any way
Orange Belt: complete 3 Bingos, any way
Red Belt: complete a Cross Bingo, either a T Cross (1 horizontal and 1 vertical) or X Cross (diagonals)
Brown Belt: complete a Parallel Bingo, 2 Bingos that are parallel horizontally or vertically
Blue Belt: complete a Confetti Bingo, alternating prompt squares are filled
Green Belt: complete a Diamond Bingo, 4 prompt squares forming a diamond shape are filled
Purple Belt: complete a Border Bingo, all outside prompt squares are filled
Black Belt: fill any prompt squares not previously used (blacking out one entire card)
Double Black Belt: black out both cards entirely

You don't need to earn the belts in this order, but hope you'll work through several of the belts before aiming for a black belt.

FIC: Bad Feeling Mornings (PG-13) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-12-10T14:13:53Z

Title: Bad Feeling Mornings
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1201
Completed: October 2, 2013
Challenge: writerverse 24 Hour Challenge A
Prompt: Friday the 13th
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: It's been a while since I've written anything worth something. I'm glad to see I can still write.

Summary: On an early morning, Ed's summoned to Mustang's office for a reason he can't understand.

Superstition is bullshit. As a scientist, Ed knows this and anyone stupid enough to believe it deserves what happens to him. Some people would call alchemy black magic in a form but they’re just ignorant idiots who don’t realize it’s just science.

Al always tells him to be nice when they met people like that but why should he? He’s not here to cater to their beliefs or make them believe that their world is exactly like they think it is. He’s here to fix a problem then move on. It’s the part of the job description most people in the military forget. Not him. He stomps all over those stupid regulations Mustang tries to force him into following.

He knows all this but there’s a lump in his throat and he’s been antsy all day. It’s just another day like any other. His throat’s felt gritty since the moment he woke up. It reminds him too much of the time he spent in Resembool digging up the remains of the homunculus he and Al created all those years ago.

His boots strike the concrete with a light thump, slightly louder with his left foot. No one’s ever made a comment about it but it annoys him to no end. Fucking automail doesn’t even let him pretend to be close to normal. He’s never cared about being normal but it doesn’t let him be as sneaky as he would like and with his current position sometimes he seriously needs it.

The fabric of his uniform coat itches at his neck and he yanks on the collar. It doesn’t help much and he scowls up at the big giant building he’s now standing in the shadow of. Mustang’s ordered him to the office today for some stupid reason. He’s never here this early, usually sauntering in around lunch to give any reports the bastard might want out of him. The bastard knows this. The bastard should also know he doesn’t have anything new to report anyway. There hasn’t been enough time.

Everything about today seems off and he’s in a bad mood as a result. Ed’s not stupid. He knows when something’s up and with the way the bastard didn’t tell him anything wasn’t a help. Al had to shove him out the door, half awake, with toast crumbs still on his lips. It wasn’t the best way to start the morning having Al laugh at him and make him go somewhere he really didn’t want to go.

It’s late enough he’s missed the early morning traffic so there’s nothing echoing off the stone columns and buildings around him. Most people are already in their offices or doing whatever so the hallways are deathly quiet. His shoulders hunch and he tries to school the scowl off his face when he manages to run into the one or two people that roam the halls of Central Command.

He hates the bastard even more with every step he takes. He hates the feel of heat rising on his face and the uncertainty that accompanies this stupid visit. What’s so fucking important the bastard had to have him come in this early?

Lights glint off the brass doorknobs of each door he passes. No brass plates with names have appeared yet or maybe the bastard moved them around. Ed counts off the doors he passes just to have something to do. He’s never been an optimist. No point in that when he needed to fix Al. All that was allowed was realism and the ever evolving quest to find the next answer. Being an optimist would’ve only fucked things up.

He stares at the office door with Mustang’s name on it and takes a deep breath then scowls at himself. He yanks the door open with his normal force and stomps in. He expects bowed heads and a “yo” from Havoc but he gets neither. The office is deserted. It’s as quiet as it was out in the halls and a shiver goes down Ed’s spine. What the fuck? Mustang’s unit is always here when he visits. There’s never a time they haven’t been.

The bastard needs Hawkeye to keep him in line as it is. At least the cover story they have depends on it. Everything else is up in the air, adapted as necessary for the purposes of whatever they’re doing. But it’s the first time in a long time, he doesn’t see Hawkeye lurking somewhere around in the office.

He walks along the row of desks and raps his knuckles on the edge lightly. The soft sounds let him know he hasn’t been transported into some weird dream world. He wakes up too many times from nightmares where he’s still in the military and he still hasn’t fixed Al. Everything else is just like it is right now.

He shoves open Mustang’s inner office door with a slam. “You wanted to see me?”

Mustang turns from his spot at the door and Ed blinks when he sees he’s dressed casually. No uniform in sight. The collar of his shirt’s undone like he just stepped out of his house into his office. He smiles at Ed then arches an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to come in your uniform, Edward.”

He motions for Ed to close the door and he does warily. This isn’t what he was expecting at all. It’s much more intimate what with the curtains half drawn and no one else here. What the does the bastard have planned?

Ed walks to the front of the desk and crosses his arms. His heart’s beating faster for no reason and suddenly he can’t fucking swallow. What the hell? He watches Mustang frown at him as he moves from the window and comes around to him. He rests a hand on his shoulder and the thumpthump of his heart reaches his ears. There’s too much heat from Mustang’s hand to be normal. Did something get to him last night? Was there a plot?

“Edward.” Mustang’s voice is never that soft or gentle. “Did you forget what day it was?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s just a day like any other day.” That makes the bastard laugh at him then he’s tugging off his uniform jacket. Ed fights him at first, not sure what the hell’s going on, but when the idiot doesn’t stop he helps him get it off.

Mustang reaches up to trace his fingers along his jaw and Ed bites his lip at the cool glide of them against his skin. Randomly he realizes his lips are chapped and what the hell? He hasn’t been in the harsh conditions of the East or the North recently. They shouldn’t be like that.

“Edward, look at me.” Ed lifts his eyes to Mustang’s and there’s a warmth there that makes his insides flip flop like he ate something bad. Actually, maybe it's his breakfast about to make a reappearance.

“What?”

Mustang shakes his head and those cool fingers cup the back of his neck, massaging at the tension in his shoulders. Mustang leans in those extra couple inches and kisses him deeply then murmurs against his lips, “Happy anniversary, Edward.”

FIC MASTERPOST: Shaped by the Stars - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T01:13:52Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk/Hikaru Sulu, James T. Kirk/Nyota Uhura, James T. Kirk/Nyota Uhura/Hikaru Sulu
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary:

AO3
Chapter 1 - Holding the Sky
Chapter 2 - Slip Me Home
Chapter 3 - A Fire Ever Burning
Chapter 4 - Book of Stories
Chapter 5 - And I'm a Lionheart
Chapter 6 - Blank Cards and Infinite Stakes
Chapter 7 - Home Away From Home

FIC: Shaped by the Stars (1/7) - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T01:12:31Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars (1/7)
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk/Hikaru Sulu
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1,265 / 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary: In the aftermath of Nero's defeat, Hikaru sticks his nose in where it doesn't belong and ends up with a James T. Kirk.

When all is said and done, Captain Pike's stashed away in Sick Bay, Kirk's still Acting Captain, and they're trudging home on Impulse since they've lost Warp capability. It's been a hard fucking several days and all Hikaru wants to do is find his assigned quarters and pass out until his next shift. That's when Captain Pike calls looking for Kirk who's just stepped off the bridge for a quick break.

"Sulu, find him and bring him to Sick Bay."

"Yes, sir."

He rises from his seat and heads into the turbolift with no idea where Kirk would even go. They've been too busy fighting for their lives and Earth to do anything else. The computer locates Kirk in the Observation Lounge on Deck 4. When Hikaru gets there, the doors slide open to reveal Kirk staring out into the black, stars crisply reflecting back onto his face. He doesn't turn until Hikarua clears his throat.

Surprise flits across his face followed by concern as he steps closer. "Sulu? Something wrong with the ship?"

He shakes his head. "No, sir. Captain Pike wants you down in Sick Bay." That earns him a raised eyebrow.

"He could've just asked for me over the 'com." Hikaru was thinking the same thing but he wasn't going to argue with Captain Pike. The man's been through enough hell and he probably had his reasons.

Technically his job's done but Kirk didn't tell him to beat it and hey, he can pretend he's looking for his own quarters as he follows Kirk to Sick Bay. The moment he steps foot into Sick Bay, he's accosted by McCoy who barks out orders to the nurses to take care of the gash on his forehead. He doesn't even remember when he got that. Probably when they dived on the drilling platform on Vulcan.

Thankfully, McCoy's nurses are a lot gentler in their approach than McCoy's though he managed to end up on the biobed next to Captain Pike. He nods at the man and gets a wane smile in return. Kirk's on the other side with his arms folded against his chest and a wary expression on his face.

"Status report?"

Kirk smoothes the confusion and wariness off his face before he begins talking. "Uh, good, sir. We're headed back to Earth after the successful defeat of Nero and his ship. Warp cores had to be jettisoned so our return trip may take a while."

Pike arches an eyebrow. "Why were they jettisoned?"

"To escape the event horizon of a black hole."

"We flew into a black hole?"

"No, sir. It was created in the destruction of Nero's ship."

Pike rubs his forehead like he has a headache coming on. "So to destroy Nero, a previously peaceful section of space grew a blackhole?"

"Uhm, yes, sir."

Pike sighs. "I guess there was no other way?"

"No, sir."

"Alright, at least no civilian lives were caught in the crossfire?" At Kirk's nod, Pike looks better than he did before and Hikaru realizes he's been sitting here for a while when he didn't have to be. The gash on his head's been taken care of. "You and the bridge crew get any rest?"

"No, sir."

Pike nods. "Well, go back up there and tell them, you're all off for two days and then Beta and Gamma shifts will have the same when you're all back on duty." He waves a hand when Kirk starts to protest. "We've got a long couple of weeks ahead of us. Get some rest. You figure out quarters for yourself yet, Kirk? Well, get it sorted then get yourself some rest. You look like you need it."

"He can bunk with me." Hikaru has no idea why he spoke up as two heads swivel to look at him.

Pike nods and then leans back against his pillows, eyes closing. They've evidently taxed enough of his remaining energy and Kirk's already moving toward the door. Hikaru hops off his biobed and follows after. Once they're outside the doors, Kirk turns to him. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, Sulu, but I was thinking I'd just bunk with Bones."

"You tell him that?"

"Uhhh...no?" The confusion on Kirk's face is priceless like he can't imagine McCoy would turn him away. He's probably too busy dealing with injuries and the refugees they picked up from Vulcan to even think about returning to his quarters, if he even knows where they are.

Hikaru laughs. "It's your funeral. Bet you'll get woken up by an attack of hyposprays."

"Hey! No way would Bones do that to me. He's my best buddy." Kirk reaches to punch him in the shoulder but Hikaru dances out of reach with a grin.

"Uh huh. That's what you keep telling yourself." He shakes his head and shrugs. "But whatever, no big deal. Have fun. I'm off to get some shut eye. I feel like meat warmed over."

He leaves Kirk in his wake as he heads to the turbolift and tells the computer to direct him to his floor. He gets to his quarters and doesn't take in anything but the sight of the large bed. It looks pristine and soft and a wave of exhaustion rolls over him.

He stumbles to the bed, pulling off his boots, and flops into it. He barely manages to pull the covers back so he can crawl in. The pillow feels like heaven and then he's out.

~*~*~*~

Hikaru wakes up however many hours later and lays there several moments blinking up into the darkness of his room. He uses the head, taking a quick sonic shower, and finds a clean set of clothes in the closet. Guess they didn't leave dry dock without being properly outfitted. He scrubs a hand over his face and over his hair before he steps outside into the corridor. Somehow he's unsurprised to find Kirk leaning against the wall beside his door. "McCoy attack you with hypos after all?"

Kirk gives him a grin and shrugs. "Where you headed?"

"Mess hall, see if I can find it anyway. I'm starving."

"Mind if I tag along?"

It's Hikaru's turn to shrug. He's not sure why Kirk's deciding to hang out with him of all people but this is the guy that jumped off a collapsing drill platform to save his ass when he didn't have to. It's not like he's going to turn him away. "Sure, maybe we won't get as lost together."

What they wind up doing instead is exploring the ship while dodging commanding officers and civilians alike. It's a place they should know better than they do and there's no time like the present to start. They dart in and out of rooms they probably shouldn't be in but Kirk's Acting Captain and has the override to match. The levels they flit on and off are strange and exciting even if they have spent the past several years training to be on a ship just like this.

They do eventually wind up in the mess hall where they grab plates and dive in like they're starving men. Maybe in some ways they are. The conversation's easy and effortless, almost like they've known each other for years instead of the brief amount of time they really do.

He's Hikaru Sulu and he's James Kirk. There's something strung between them that may come from saving each other's lives or the blind trust Kirk manages to inspire in them all. But, you know, it's not so bad not when you get down to it.

Index | Next

FIC: Shaped by the Stars (2/7) - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T01:12:10Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars (2/7)
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk/Hikaru Sulu
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1,247 / 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary: At the conclusion of their third five year mission, it's not just Jim that gets a promotion.

Hikaru can’t believe it’s already the end of their third five year mission. It only seems like yesterday they were heading back to Earth after defeating Nero. The admiralty’s going to try and pin another medal on Jim and he’s fighting them all the way. He presses a hand to the cool glass of the window in their shared apartment then steps back toward the kitchen.

They’re never here often enough so the place smells like dust and disuse. It’s why they don’t have any pets. Maybe one day when they’re both retired but that’s a long way off yet. Hikaru refused to have his house barren of plants and they fill the house with their scent and splendor. His sisters take turns coming over and watering them when he’s gone. He knows it’s a lot to ask, they have lives of their own, but they haven’t said no so far.

It’s quiet and feels empty since Jim’s not here. He had a slew of meetings today and probably won’t end up back til late tonight. It’s the burden of command and for a while there, it didn’t seem like Jim would ever fully understand the scope of what they expected of him or what came along with the title of captain. How things are different now.

Hikaru grins as he steps onto the cool tile of their kitchen and pours himself a mug of Cardassian tea. He wanders next into the living room to settle on the couch with his legs stretched out before him. He flips on the holo to some random channel and sinks back into the comfort of the couch.

That first time exploring the Enterprise together had somehow turned into a thing they did, just the two of them. When they had the time and weren’t on shift, they made a point of meeting on a random deck and seeing what they could discover about this ship they were in charge of. Despite his demeanor, Hikaru’s a fucking smart guy and keeping up with Jim while they learned the ship from bow to stern wasn’t difficult. They’re all geniuses in their own right. Jim’s just the one with the luck.

Somewhere along the way, friendship had turned into something more. Their inability to stay away from each other during their off hours probably had something to do with it. Hikaru wasn’t going to turn Jim away but he never expected it to have lasted this long. He’d heard of Jim’s reputation and it wasn’t anything to laugh at. Commitment and Jim just didn’t go together in the same sentence. There was also that little issue of commanding officer and fraternization rules.

He smiles slightly as he remembers how Jim always made a point to ask him out when he wasn’t in the role of Captain. It was a very Jim gesture. His eyes flick toward the screen when he hears mention of James Kirk. It’s the same old, same old speculation of what’s going on in the personal life of one James Kirk. It’s not like they want the real truth or else Hikaru would’ve been found out already. Jim doesn’t make a habit of flaunting their relationship and despite all the media attention centered on the bridge crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise, little real truth about their personal lives has been made public fodder.

It’s all a little too neat and tidy. They’ve probably had help from the higher ups who didn’t want the images of their crew of saviors tarnished. It’ll probably come back to haunt them when they start doing stuff that pulls them out of favor, but that point hasn’t come yet.

He takes a sip of his tea and it’s like a fireball went down his throat. He coughs and sits upright to smack himself in the chest. He forgets the punch Cardassian tea always packs. He clears his throat and when he can breathe again he hears Jim’s name coming again from the holo.

Nothing but the typical fluff piece talking about some of the more dangerous missions they’ve been on and what Jim plans to do now that he’s back on Earth. It’s the same thing he’s heard a million times. He’s surprised everyone isn’t as tired of them as he is. There’s never anything new. The details may change but that’s about it.

The front door slides open and Hikaru cranes his head against the back of the couch to see who it is. There’s really only one person who it should be but you never know. It is one Jim Kirk and he’s trying to hide a grin though not very hard. Hikaru sets his tea down and shifts to look at him better over the back of the couch. “You’re early. Something happen?”

“Not particularly. I was able to cut out earlier than normal ‘cause the old windbags finally realized what a waste of time their meeting was.” Jim shrugs. He has one hand behind his back, which only makes Hikaru more suspicious.

“Uh huh.” He watches Jim walk closer and the smirk he’s been holding back finally breaks free. “And that was the only reason?”

“Aww, haven’t you known me long enough to know better?”

“Jim. Tell me you didn’t cause an incident?”

“Of course I didn’t. We’ve gone on enough diplomatic missions that I know better.” Hikaru still half expects a comm from Uhura notifying him of exactly what Jim did, the regulations he broke, and what Hikaru would have to con Jim into doing to fix it all. He tosses something at Hikaru and he’s left scrambling to stop it from beaning him in the head.

He comes up with a small deep grey box inscribed with the Starfleet insignia. He turns it over in his hands. “Did they finally pin something on you?”

“Nah,” Jim’s voice says from beside him on the couch. “And the reason I got out early was ‘cause Pike decided he’d had enough of seeing my face.”

Hikaru laughs. He could see it being all too true. He flips the box open and blinks when he sees command stripes nestled on blue fabric. An arm drapes along his back and Jim’s voice is against his ear. “They did however decide to pin some extra stripes on you, Hikaru.”

The words are followed by a wet tongue tracing a line above his collar. He’ll find out later that the rest of the bridge also received promotions but right now that’s the last thing he’s thinking about. A hand slides under his shirt and up his chest as Jim nips at his neck. He shudders and leans back into Jim’s warmth while his brain struggles to process what’s happening. “But…how-why?”

“Pike did some convincing.” There’s a wealth of things unsaid. Starfleet would never hesitate to promote them and has already tried countless times. They would also not hesitate in taking them away from the Enterprise, away from Jim, and all the good they could do together. “Let’s talk about it later. I want to celebrate.”

“Only in it for yourself, huh?”

“Hey, you’re the one that signed on and hasn’t looked back since.”

Hikaru rolls his eyes and lets himself be tugged around by Jim’s firm touch and quicksilver hands. He drops the box containing his command stripes and reaches instead for Jim. His warmth and touch mean much more than command stripes. With Jim, it’s them and the stars and nothing else compares.

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FIC: Shaped by the Stars (3/7) - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T01:11:53Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars (3/7)
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1,364 / 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary: Jim's Starfleet career finally comes to an end but it's really only the beginning as things come full circle.

They’d done it.

They’d finally done it. The brass at Starfleet Command had finally pushed him out, Jim Kirk, their public relations poster boy, and all because he didn’t agree with their policies or the direction they wanted to take Starfleet in.

He’s still not sure how he lasted as long as he did. In the aftermath of Vulcan’s destruction, they’d needed a beacon of promise and possibility to deal with the loss. They’d tossed him the Enterprise and a crew that’s done more than anyone ever expected. Every single one of his bridge crew was off commanding a fleet of starships right now. They’d fought, oh how, they’d fought being reassigned to stay with him. Bonds forged in fire are the strongest of them all as Bones would say.

Jim shakes his head and continues stalking through the hallways of Starfleet Command. He needs to get out and away from them all. The memorials hanging on the walls of distinguished Starfleet members, the medals festooning the breasts of men and women, high ranking titles adorning the doors, and the deferential bullshit he’s always hated.

They part for him like the slipstream of the Enterprise at warp with eyes downcast and whispers starting up once he passes. It’s times like these he misses the halls of the Enterprise even more fiercely than he normally does. There he’d get smiles and nods filled with warmth and familiarity. He knew their names and they knew him. They trusted him with their lives and carried out his missions without reserve. But they’re gone, scattered to the many corners of the galaxy like the life he’s lead to this point.

He finally reaches the end of the hallways and steps onto the marbled stone of the entrance hall with his feet sending up a short beat of clickclacks. He’ll finally be free of the tarnish of the brass but he’ll also lose everything else that matters. He shoves through the old fashioned glass doors and remembers the formal uniform hat clenched in his hand. He manages to unfreeze his hand from its tense grip and shakes the hat to smooth out the damage he’s done. He turns to look up at the gleaming monstrosity towering above him. It’s over. It’s done. They’ve made his decision and he’s cut free.

Years, decades, have gone by with him holding the spirit of Starfleet in his heart. Exploration, discovery, exploring the stars, and charting them to see what no other has seen before. He’s chafed at orders, toed them, outright disobeyed them because they didn’t know the situation. They couldn’t have seen the things he’s seen or figured out how to get out while saving his crew. He’s been reprimanded, brought up on charges, everything under the sun to save and protect his crew. He’d take the fall for them and it’s why they’d take the bullet for him.

He never wanted it that way. The greater good doesn’t outweigh the needs of the one. Jim refuses to believe. He’ll use his luck and his mind to their full extent every time to prevent that from being true. It won’t always work, but he’ll always try. That’s what Starfleet doesn’t understand.

Out in the black, where all you’ve got is the person next to you, regulations can go fuck themselves. Loss is greater, life is more precious, everything takes on a whole different dimension. Jim glances higher and higher to the pinnacle of the gold-green glass reflecting the sun and takes one final look. He shakes his head then turns sharply on his heel rapidly taking the last steps down to the flat green ahead of him.

The only way to change Starfleet was from within as he’d once been told by Pike and Spock. He’d been working on it too. Making slow and steady changes each year where he could win a hard fought concession but maybe in his old age he’d gotten careless, pushing too hard, too fast for change.

It’d never been in his nature to play the long game. Well, no that wasn’t true. A long game played by his rules and done his way he could do but playing by anyone else’s? He hated it. But for the cause Starfleet was supposed to represent he was willing. It’s all gone now. Swept under the rug of political agendas disguised as the betterment of Starfleet.

Pike used to tell him he was the embodiment of what Starfleet should be but had forgotten how to be. He’s never felt like the brass wanted to revive that Starfleet. Their courses were set and so would be Starfleet’s. They’ve washed their hands of him and the sane thing would be for Jim to wash his hands of them. He’s never claimed to be sane.

He hails a taxi to take him back to his apartment near the Bay. Every mile they’re further away from Starfleet Command he relaxes more. He pulls at the stiff collar of his uniform and pops the buttons. He has until the end of the month to clear out his office. He doesn’t have much to box up. He always detested that place and always did what business he could in restaurants or parks. Being cooped up all day in the same building where people stood on regulation and procedure like their life depended on it would’ve slowly driven him mad.

He tips his driver on his way out of the taxi and he’s looking forward to a tall glass of Romulan Ale. He’ll work on continuing to change Starfleet after he’s had a chance to forget today. He’s earned that much he would think. The lift takes him to his floor within seconds and he finishes unbuttoning the uniform coat as he keys in his entry code. He tosses both the jacket and his hat onto the couch as soon as he steps inside. The lights slide on and he stops when he spots the crowd in his apartment.

His whole crew is here. Sulu with a hip leaned against the counter, Chekov sitting across from McCoy with bottles of bourbon and vodka between them, Uhura sitting elegantly in another armchair with one of his books in her hands, Spock by the window probably gazing outward, and Scotty near the fridge with a glass. He blinks to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “What’re you all doing here?”

They’re all much older than they used to be. Some like Bones and Scotty showing the passage of time more than others but most of all they should be in other galaxies leading their own vessels and crews.

Sulu walks over and presses a glass of something into his hand. “Where we’ve always been, Captain.”

Jim takes a drink instinctively and to buy himself some time to think. “I haven’t been your captain in years, Sulu.”

“Jim, did you really think we’d let them do this to you without us here?”

He looks at Bones and a smile starts to crack through. “Maybe a little.”

He gets “You idiot” in return but in the familiar tones he heard for years on the Enterprise, equal parts exasperation and grouchy fondness.

Sulu guides him over to the couch and pushes him down for a seat. Uhura smiles at him and he remembers how he used to cherish the ones he earned, however few and far between they used to be in the beginning.

“Indeed, we will always be your crew no matter where our paths may take us.” Spock inclines his head before joining the rest of his seated crew.

Scotty plops down on the couch beside him and lifts his glass in salute. “Aye, Captain. We wouldn’t be where we are without you.”

Jim glances around as the conversation starts to flow and grins slowly. He has a feeling those of his crew who captained ships had forged orders or broken something on their ships to be recalled to Earth. It’s not where he pictured himself being these many years down the road, but it’s not a bad place to be. His crew beside him once again as they set off into the unknown once more.

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FIC: Shaped by the Stars (4/7) - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T01:11:30Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars (4/7)
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk/Hikaru Sulu
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1,612 / 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary: Neither Hikaru or Jim are big on anniversaries, at least that's what Hikaru thinks.

Anniversaries weren’t ever a big deal between them because half the time they were dealing with a crisis that required their attention. It wasn’t intentional. It’s just what happened on the USS Enterprise and you dealt with it. Neither of them were big on the sentimental side. Jim for his various reasons and Hikaru because he’d bottled that up and put it away a long time ago.

Their first couple years together were more focused on the ship and getting everyone back together alive. The excitement of space more than sentiment enough to bind them together. Those years were good. Away missions where he was sent down to study the botany or ones where the population wasn’t hostile and they could wander the new world together. They picked up memories and stories more than souvenirs.

Some time after their second year together, Jim wanted to learn to fence. Hikaru was reluctant at first because he could just imagine McCoy yelling about teaching Jim to actively injure himself. But they’re still new and Hikaru doesn’t want Jim getting bored with him so he caves. Jim’s a faster learner than he gave him credit for. They’re having decent bouts within a couple months and Hikaru doesn’t know where Jim’s finding the time to practice. They’ve barely had a moment to themselves in weeks.

When Jim finally beats him, it’s a surprise to everyone but Jim and the large betting pool Scotty’s got going. Well, the only one that had bet on Jim had been Jim so that didn’t really count. The first words out of his mouth as he tries to remember each point Jim scored is “How?”

He gets a Jim Kirk grin in return that goes straight to his cock and always has him thinking Jim’s more dangerous than anyone realizes. “I had some good incentive.”

Lust settles low in his body as Jim loops an arm around his shoulders and waves off the congratulations with a shit eating grin and a gleam in his eye. It takes too long for Jim to maneuver them out of the room and back to their quarters with casual teasing touches letting Hikaru know exactly what’s coming. When they get there, it doesn’t take long before he’s flat on his back with Jim Kirk all over him and heat swamping them both.

Several weeks go by before Hikaru realizes the bout occurred on their anniversary. He shrugs it off as coincidence.

Year five has them back on Earth counting down the months as the Enterprise gets refitted for her second exploratory mission. It means his family’s popping in and out of the place he moved into with Jim. He still has his own place but enough of his stuff has moved to Jim’s that it might as well be his. He spends enough time there already.

Hikaru knows his family’s getting serious when Jim gets invited to his first family dinner. He hasn’t seen this much charm turned on by Jim for months now. He’s always thought if they could somehow distill and bottle it they’d make a fortune. There’s something unnatural about it.

The dinner goes better than he expected. There’s no train wreck of conflicting goals or sentiments. In fact, Jim gets on well with everyone in his family from his parents to his sisters. Jim devours some of everything that gets passed his way while Hikaru’s half tensed from the possibility of an allergic reaction. Either Jim has some sort of tolerance for Korean food or his family’s been fed information on what not to feed hyperallergic Jim Kirk.

When all is said and done, his family has practically adopted Jim and might have plans to disown him if the way his sisters were smirking meant anything. What they don’t see is when they get back to their place how Jim drops on the couch like his strings have been cut and drapes his arm over his eyes.

Hikaru shoves him over enough to sit then pulls Jim’s head into his lap. He runs his fingers through dirty blonde hair and arches an eyebrow. Jim’s only ever this tired after a sparring match with Spock. “I hate to see what you use that charm for otherwise.”

“Oh you know, the usual, diplomatic functions, Starfleet brass wanting to strip my rank away.” Jim waves his hand in the air but it looks more like a boneless wrist flopping around. “Nothing big.”

“Uh huh.” He sits there with Jim until he drops off. He looks younger this way, as young as they really are. Stripped of command, of anything but Hikaru and Jim, Hikaru wonders what this man would do for anything else he wanted.

The next day Hikaru finds a brand new set of silverware tucked into their drawers. They’re plain and unadorned, which sets the urge to engrave something more symbolic of them into the handles. It’s as he’s rubbing the pad of his thumb over the handles of a spoon he realizes what the Stardate is: the day after another year together.

He’s concussed, barely knows what year it is, his jaw feels like it’s been broken, and he doesn’t know where the hell he is. He squints into blinding overhead light and grunts as he tries to move to his side. The hands he expect to push him down don’t come, which rules out Sick Bay and Jim and McCoy. That doesn’t mean he’s any luckier wherever he is.

He levers himself into an upright position, gripping the solid barklike feel of something next to him. Hikaru slits his eyes open and manages to make out a weirdly colored field that looks oddly like corn. He slowly slides his eyes fully open and looks around. He’s propped against what would be a tree except for the crystalline look of it all.

He lifts a cautious hand to probe his skull and finds a good sized lump on the back of it. “Yup, concussion,” he mutters. “Now where the hell am I?”

Something on his hand catches the light and the flare sends a bolt of pain through his head. He grits his teeth and brings his left hand closer to inspect it. A ring formed out of crystal that looks like the tree beside him curls around his ring finger. It’s warmed to his body temperature and slides off with little issue. Belatedly he tenses and readies for his body to reject the ring’s removal.

The fit’s perfect as he slides it back on. It stands out against his skin and he’ll need to figure out where it came from later. There’s a moan from the other side of the tree and Hikaru makes his way over several large crystal roots on his hands and knees. “Jim!”

“Don’t shout,” Jim says through a wince. He looks like he’s in the same shape Hikaru is. He leans into the side of a large root and manages to position Jim so his head’s cradled in his lap. “Where are we?”

“Someplace we shouldn’t be.” Hikaru glances around the emptiness surrounding them. “What the hell happened?”

“Don’t know. Last thing I remember I was discussing a ritual with the High Ambassador.” Jim’s hauling himself into an upright position by using Hikaru’s arm like a branch. He’s vaguely upright though slumped against him when he seizes his left hand and lifts it. “Hey, this is new. Should I be jealous?”

A bright grin only a little fuzzy at the edges gets turned on him and Hikaru rolls his eyes. “Maybe but considering I woke up here with you, you probably don’t have too much to worry about.”

But he’s already lost Jim who’s now staring at his own left hand. “I have one too.” Jim looks at him with heat in his eyes and a small private smile that never falls to slide straight down his spine. “Does that mean we’re married again?”

“You mean that thing we had wasn’t officially binding?” Hikaru says as he pats himself down for a communicator or something. He’s still in his Starfleet uniform at least but no sign of the communicator or anything else that might help them right now. “You weren’t talking about marriage rituals or some shit like that?”

Jim’s face freezes for a split second, blue eyes losing some of their blue as pupils widen and his smile tears a bit at the corners. Hikaru glares then freezes as his mind rewinds the last few days. “Jim.”

“Didn’t you see those rocks they had on their hands?” Hikaru just keeps staring. “I figured I could establish some good cultural relationships by having us participate in the ritual and score us some of those rings.”

Hikaru leans in and kisses Jim when he stops to take a breath. “You idiot,” he murmurs against his lips. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Jim’s smile curves against his lips. “Because I make your life more exciting?”

“One way of putting it. So, what else did this ritual you signed us up for entail?”

“Hot, raunchy celebratory sex?” There’s a hopeful look on Jim’s face and a look he’s all too familiar with in his eyes. He’s enjoying the chaos of it all, just like him to do.

He smacks Jim then and gives a pointed look at their surroundings.

“Well…we need to find a hot springs and then once we get there….”

Hikaru only half listens as he runs his hands over Jim to make sure he’s okay to move. The last thing they need on what is evidently his anniversary trip is for Jim to fall over before they even get there.

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FIC: Shaped by the Stars (5/7) - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T01:11:11Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars (5/7)
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk/Nyota Uhura
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 2,182 / 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary: Back on the Enterprise after a mission gone wrong, Uhura sits by a bedside in Sickbay where she reflects on the soft secret that is hers.

On the Enterprise, there are open secrets that everyone knows. Rumors about the bridge crew abound and the truth is known in some cases but not a single one of them would breathe them to outsiders. They are a family, forged together in the deep black of space.

Jim Kirk flirts with everyone and everything on board the ship. He graces everyone with a bright smile and that Kirk charisma that’s gotten him out of more situations than anyone can count. He’s the consummate captain but not in the Starfleet tradition.

He flirts with Uhura like he always has and for that she’s thankful. Her baleful glares have turned into fond exasperation at his antics. She monitors all their frequencies when she’s not on the away missions with them. She tries to ensure that Captain Kirk doesn’t get himself captured or throw himself into the middle of things to protect his crew.

When they beam back aboard, she ducks her head and breathes easier. Sometimes she leaves her station to check on both First Officer and Captain. On others, just the Captain. She’s tread the path to Sickbay many times more than she ever expected. She has a favored chair there, one she claimed after a long recuperation by their Captain. It awaits her at his bedside every time she appears.

There’s a soft secret bubbling under the surface that hasn’t filtered out beyond the close group of the bridge crew. She hopes it stays that way. It’s private and personal and her own little happiness. She doesn’t need to share it with the rest of the ship the way everything else is.

The rumors say she dated Commander Spock when he was her professor and they’ve carried on a relationship since but it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Half human he may be but that was an ethical boundary no self respecting Starfleet cadet or professor would breach. A close friendship is what they have and if people want to spin lurid tales about them then so be it.

The rumors also say she earned her position on the Enterprise because of Spock’s favor. How little they know of Spock. He has been softened by his time among them but he is still Vulcan in many ways. Her scores and her abilities put her on the Enterprise, nothing else.

She shakes her head. No, she has not, will not, and never will be involved intimately with Spock, dear though he may be in other ways.

The soft chime of shift end sounds and Nyota pushes up from her station to head toward the turbolift. Her destination is Sickbay and as crew members drift on and off she gives them cursory nods. On her floor, she steps from the lift with her thoughts racing ahead of her down the corridor.

It’s another mission gone sideways like they tend to do with Kirk still hooked up to a biobed. Sulu and Spock had also been on the mission but escaped with minor injuries. They fought their way through to Kirk to drag him to a location where the transporter could pick them up, but Kirk, in his typical fashion, had been dosed with something. McCoy was working on clearing it from his system but it was a slow process.

Nyota smiles at Christine when she steps inside McCoy’s personal domain. The majority of biobeds are empty and the other nurses are engrossed in their PADDs. Christine envelops her in a hug and pulls back with her hands on her shoulders. “You look beat.”

“I feel it.” She gives her friends arms a squeeze then asks quietly, “How is he?”

“Still the same as before.” Christine’s face softens and she guides them over to her station, pulling out a chair for Nyota before sitting down herself. “Leonard’s making progress. It won’t be much longer before he’s awake and being his annoying self again.”

Nyota laughs and leans back into the chair. “And won’t that be fun.” She looks toward Observation Room 5 and sighs. “It just happens so often.”

“I know.” A cup of steaming tea is pushed into her hands. She looks down at it in gratitude and takes a sip. It’s one of her favorites and the soothing taste relaxes her. “You could have picked a less difficult man,” Christine says with a wicked gleam.

She rolls her eyes then says with a smile. “Oh yes, if I had only been logical about the matter.”

“Leonard and I could’ve won some serious credits off you.”

“I’m so sorry to disappoint.” Scotty runs the betting pool on the ship and had been kind enough to tip her off. She’d been linked with everyone on the bridge crew except Chekov, thankfully. He was far too young for her tastes. Kirk had been the long shot and Nyota had placed her own bet, known only to Scotty. She’d made out with a pretty hefty sum of credits. She’s still waiting for the day to reveal this to Jim and find out where he’d placed his bet.

She watches Christine scribble on her PADD then compare it with another one before pulling up some forms on the station console. “You don’t have to keep me company while I’m doing boring paperwork. Observation’s ready for you.”

“I just…need a few minutes.” She gets a look from Christine but she doesn’t say anything. They chat about what they want to do when they find a vacation planet and when they get back to Earth. It’s pleasant, normal, and Christine knows well enough to steer the conversation away from topics involving Jim.

It’s not that she regrets things. Sometimes it’s just hard. They’re good together and they’ve grown closer but sometimes she wishes Jim would change. But changing Jim is like changing the nature of a black hole. It just doesn’t happen. She knew what she was signing up for but this recent series of missions is wearing on her.

She’s talked to McCoy about this before and been told Jim wouldn’t blame her if she left, that he half expected it. That’s why she can’t leave. That’s why she took the leap in the first place. Jim’s already been left too often and for someone so willing to throw himself in front of and for others he doesn’t expect much of the same in return.

It’s why she finishes the last sips of her tea and smiles at Christine as she rises and heads toward the Observation rooms. McCoy, on his way out of his office, squeezes her shoulder in passing. There’s exhaustion written across his face but the PADD in his hand seems to hold answers as he marches toward the attached lab suite.

She pauses outside Observation Room 5 and looks at him so still and pale against the sheets. He looks nothing like the captain they’ve come to know. There’s no turbulent blue storm of possibilities in his eyes or the magnetic pull of his personality. He’s just a pale body lying on a bed surrounded by various electrical readouts.

She watches the even rise and fall of his chest and the constant uptick of his heartbeat for a long while before she keys in her access code and steps inside. The viewing window immediately turns opaque as she crosses the room to sink into her chair by his bedside. “Oh Jim,” she says to the silent room.

Nyota takes his still hand between her own and wills him to wake up. What she’d give right now for that smile of his or an outrageous come on. She laces her hand with his and squeezes, wishing for the reassuring squeeze back she’d always get if he were awake.

She tells him about her day from the boredom of alpha shift to the way everyone misses him in their own way. Sulu’s missing the opportunity to kick his ass at fencing and Spock’s despondent in his own way about the lack of their weekly chess game. McCoy’s been grumpier than usual and Scotty’s probably doing horrible things to the Enterprise’s code instead of arguing with Jim about their necessity or novelty. Chekov’s quieter than he normally is about how the Russians developed or discovered everything since his usual partner in historical pop culture is comatose in bed.

At some point she must’ve dozed off because she wakes to a warm blanket tossed over her while she’s curled against the bed in a position that her back will make her pay for. There is nothing out of the ordinary about the room until several fingers brush against her cheek. She looks up into Jim’s blue eyes and a soft “hey.”

“You’re awake.” She sits upright and takes his hand in hers. This time he squeezes back with a weak smile.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Her mouth thins as she glares at him. “I’m right where I need to be.”

He opens his mouth to protest but his words die in a series of coughs. She moves to the replicator to fill a cup of ice chips then drags her chair closer to the bed when she sits again. “Sssh, don’t talk.” She feeds him ice chips one by one and tries to remember what his medical report had said.

Only when he’s swallowed half the cup does she set it down then just run her hand through his hair. He’s not nearly the man he usually is. Silence isn’t a weapon he uses often. It’s more hers but this one isn’t about winning the argument. This one’s about knowing he’s okay.

She leans down to press a soft kiss against his lips, forehead touching his as she lingers. He raises a hand to rest against the nape of her neck where it trembles slightly. “This is getting to be a habit, isn’t it?”

“One I say you stop right now unless you want to start installing medical equipment in your quarters.”

Jim makes a show of gesturing around them. “What? You don’t like our accommodations here. They’ve worked well so far.”

She kisses him again to shut him up, curling her hand into his shirt. His mouth is sweet, a little stale from the days in bed, but still the taste of fire and the cool chill of space. “I have my own personal chair in here. I’d rather be in our quarters.”

“I could see what could be arranged.” But it’s an argument both of them wouldn’t win. McCoy wouldn’t let Jim out of Sickbay until he thought he was good and healthy, which would lead to a jailbreak or Jim driving everyone up the wall.

Nyota nudges him to scoot over and he carefully does. “You know McCoy would never go for that.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been working on him for a while. Maybe he’ll give in this time.” There’s enough space on the biobed for two if they’re careful. They’ve managed it enough times in the past. She lays her head on Jim’s shoulder and inches her way closer to him until they’re pressed together. Jim’s arm wraps around her to rest on her hip.

The bed in their quarters has been too empty without him to share it with. His scent’s also faded. She tucks her face into the side of his neck and breathes him in. “Took you long enough.”

Her heart thumps painfully loud in her ears and Jim must feel it pressed as close as they are. He doesn’t ask her about it. Maybe because he knows or maybe because he doesn’t want to know. He murmurs low in Swahili that he didn’t mean to.

“You always say that.” He brushes a kiss against her hair and holds her just a bit tighter. He knows she hates it when she’s waiting beside a bed. He hates being in the same position. It hasn’t happened often but it’s happened. She can take care of herself. She’s proved it many times.

She tucks her head against Jim so she can feel his heartbeat. He’s her blue-eyed boy of the stars, chasing down all the fairy tales for her despite her wishes. Sometimes it’s hard to remember he isn’t as invincible as he pretends to be. She slides her hand under his shirt and rests it against the middle of his chest. The steady rise and fall of his breathing starts to lull her back to sleep.

If she’s lucky, Christine will have hypoed McCoy and she and Jim will have til morning to be quiet and curled together like this. She doesn’t get him like this often. Usually it’s in Sickbay just like this, after having woken up from whatever mishap that took him out of commission. He’s too full of energy every time else. Too wrapped up in her and the stars that drag his soul toward them.

She falls asleep with Jim’s heartbeat in her ear and the warmth of him all around her. Sometimes she hates herself for cherishing these quiet moments. But she has them and Jim and in the end, that’s all that matters.

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FIC: Shaped by the Stars (6/7) - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T01:07:14Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars (6/7)
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk/Hikaru Sulu
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1,516 / 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary: Jim needs the distraction Hikaru provides after dealing with Starfleet Command.

Nyota steps inside the apartment they’re lucky to see every five years and hopes her boys have made it home but the silence that greets her lets her know otherwise. She drops her bag on the end table and kicks off her boots before she moves through the kitchen to the actual fridge she insists they keep in the place and fills a glass of wine.

She takes a sip as she pads into the living room and sinks into the extra plush couch Jim convinced her and Hikaru was a good investment. A contented sigh escapes her and maybe Jim hadn’t been too far off the mark. It’s been a long damn day. She picks up a PADD off the coffee table and sees a slew of notifications waiting for the three of them. She sorts through it, deleting the obvious trash and forwarding the rest to their respective PADDs.

They all still have their own places in the city. Hikaru’s a native of San Francisco while Nyota’s here more often than not during the mandatory two year leave between exploratory missions. Her family’s in Kenya and she has a trip planned in the next several months. Jim’s the only one who doesn’t have actual family though truth be told the Enterprise crew might as well be it.

Hikaru’s the one that manages to remember to swing by their respective apartments to check on things. It’s more for the illusion of separation than anything else. It’s common enough knowledge among their friends that they’re more likely to be found at Jim’s place than either of their own.

She tucks her feet under her once that’s done and glances at the clock. What’s taking them so long? She normally beats Jim home but not usually Hikaru. They’ve barely had two seconds to themselves with the debriefings and meetings they’ve been tied up in.

Unsettled energy runs through her and she’s up off the couch shortly walking to the window to gaze out at the city. Festooned with glass buildings and the draping of technology, San Francisco gleams in the light but clouds are rolling in off the horizon and soon the city will be quiet and muted.

She hits the display on the side board to see if she’s missed any messages. Nope, nothing from either of them. She blows out a breath then retreats back to the living room where she picks up her glass and downs a bit more wine. She doesn’t feel settled. None of them ever do in the immediate weeks after a return to Earth’s gravity.

There’s no hum under their feet or the familiar curving walls around them. No displays and monitors or the millions of little tasks they do in the course of their jobs. The Enterprise is more a home to them than the places they have in San Francisco.

Nyota pulls her hair out of its long ponytail, shaking it out over her shoulders. It hasn’t even been five minutes since the last time she glanced at the chrono. Where are they?

Taking the wine with her, she heads into their bedroom and then to her section of the closet where she strips out of her Starfleet uniform and tosses it in the laundry basket. She slips into a pair of comfortable sweats and picks out a favorite old t-shirt of Jim’s to pull on. It’s musty from disuse and she doesn’t remember why she hadn’t taken it with them before the last mission.

It’s one of her favorites. It’s a faded blue that used to match Jim’s eyes and hangs down past her waist. Wearing it reminds her of the first time she kissed Jim, barely off duty and away from prying eyes. He’d been shell shocked and wary, wondering if it was an elaborate prank.

After some coaxing to convince Jim that it wasn’t a prank, she’d dragged him off on a joint shore leave. They spent more time avoiding being seen by their crew than anything else.

It also reminds her of when she broached bringing Hikaru into things because Jim wasn’t going to be the one that risked losing what they had for something more. As non-risk prone as he was on missions, he was far more cautious in his personal life. But Nyota had seen the way Hikaru had looked at them both and decided to take a chance.

It’s been working so far and between the two of them they’ve managed to keep Jim relatively safe. She smiles when she hears the distant chime of the door. Someone’s home. She takes her wine with her as she heads back down the hall to see who it is. She moves on silent feet hoping they won’t notice her things already there. She makes it to the end of the hallway to see Hikaru flopped over face first on the couch.

She leans against the wall with a hip cocked away from it. Looks like she wasn’t the only one with a long day and just wanting the chance to decompress at home. “Hey handsome,” she calls out.

Hikaru pushes himself up and glances in her direction with a tired smile. “Hey, didn’t realize you were home.” He lets his eyes run over her a second time and his smile brightens. “You definitely have the right idea.”

He stretches and tucks himself against one of the couch arms then pats the seat next to him. She comes over and shifts to lay against him with her head against his shoulder. His arm comes up around her shoulders to trail lightly over her arm. She soaks up the warmth of him and hands him her wine to set on the end table so she can slide an arm around his waist.

Nyota feels a kiss pressed against her hair. “Jim still not home?”

“Meetings must’ve tied him up again.”

“Why’d we ever take up with him again?”

“Because you love surprises,” Jim says.

Both she and Hikaru jump and look up to find Jim smirking at them from the entry hall. His hair’s ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly and his shoulders are tight with tension.

“What kept you so long, asshole? We were getting tired of waiting,” Hikaru says.

Jim shrugs and lifts a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. “The usual bullshit. Glad to see you two got started without me.” He shoots them a lecherous grin. “You know how I love to interrupt things.”

Nyota rolls her eyes and rises to her feet then walks over to him for a kiss. He still melts like he always has and wraps his arms around her. His hand cards through her hair and he pulls her tight against him. He breaks the kiss to bury his face against her neck. She grips the back of his neck and holds on just as tight.

He pulls back after a moment and the smile on his face is the real Jim, not the persona he plasters on to cater to the brass. She kisses him softly cupping his face with her hands before stepping to the side to let Hikaru get his share.

Her boys eye each other then Hikaru grabs Jim by the shoulders and pulls him in close. Jim laughs and gives a play shove before collapsing into Hikaru’s arms. He gets his hair messed up even more than he’s hauled up into a kiss nowhere near as tender as hers and Jim’s was.

The kiss ends when Hikaru breaks it and puts Jim in a headlock. She rolls her eyes at them both. Jim breaks free and Hikaru snags an arm while she grabs the other then says, “I think we can all agree it’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jim’s already stifling a yawn. He’s not even pretending to be awake anymore now that he’s with them.

Without even speaking, she and Hikaru start dragging Jim down the hallway toward their bedroom. “I’m all for calling it a night.”

Jim’s practically nodding off while they walk and it’s Hikaru that shoves him down onto the bed. He and Nyota share a look before they pull off Jim’s boots. Hikaru kicks off his own before he pushes and shoves Jim into the middle of their bed. He crawls onto the bed and curls against Jim’s side until he’s comfortable. He shoots her a look but he can’t blame her for liking the look of her boys curled up together. She swats at him as she climbs over them both to her side of the bed and spoons up beside Jim.

He’s just about out but murmurs “home” as he shifts into the warmth of them both. She tucks her chin against Jim’s shoulder and stretches an arm across him to lace her hand with Hikaru’s. He squeezes hers and tucks his head against Jim’s back. She finally feels like she’s in her own skin.

“Yes, you are, Jim. We all are.”

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FIC: Shaped by the Stars (7/7) - (PG-13) - Star Trek AOS

2013-08-24T00:57:18Z

Title: Shaped by the Stars (7/7)
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): James T. Kirk/Nyota Uhura/Hikaru Sulu
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1,505 / 10,691
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: This has been a challenge to write but it's been fun. I hope people enjoy.

Summary: The first day back on Earth after a five year mission leaves no one feeling like they're right in their own skin.

Nyota steps inside the apartment they’re lucky to see every five years and hopes her boys have made it home but the silence that greets her lets her know otherwise. She drops her bag on the end table and kicks off her boots before she moves through the kitchen to the actual fridge she insists they keep in the place and fills a glass of wine.

She takes a sip as she pads into the living room and sinks into the extra plush couch Jim convinced her and Hikaru was a good investment. A contented sigh escapes her and maybe Jim hadn’t been too far off the mark. It’s been a long damn day. She picks up a PADD off the coffee table and sees a slew of notifications waiting for the three of them. She sorts through it, deleting the obvious trash and forwarding the rest to their respective PADDs.

They all still have their own places in the city. Hikaru’s a native of San Francisco while Nyota’s here more often than not during the mandatory two year leave between exploratory missions. Her family’s in Kenya and she has a trip planned in the next several months. Jim’s the only one who doesn’t have actual family though truth be told the Enterprise crew might as well be it.

Hikaru’s the one that manages to remember to swing by their respective apartments to check on things. It’s more for the illusion of separation than anything else. It’s common enough knowledge among their friends that they’re more likely to be found at Jim’s place than either of their own.

She tucks her feet under her once that’s done and glances at the clock. What’s taking them so long? She normally beats Jim home but not usually Hikaru. They’ve barely had two seconds to themselves with the debriefings and meetings they’ve been tied up in.

Unsettled energy runs through her and she’s up off the couch shortly walking to the window to gaze out at the city. Festooned with glass buildings and the draping of technology, San Francisco gleams in the light but clouds are rolling in off the horizon and soon the city will be quiet and muted.

She hits the display on the side board to see if she’s missed any messages. Nope, nothing from either of them. She blows out a breath then retreats back to the living room where she picks up her glass and downs a bit more wine. She doesn’t feel settled. None of them ever do in the immediate weeks after a return to Earth’s gravity.

There’s no hum under their feet or the familiar curving walls around them. No displays and monitors or the millions of little tasks they do in the course of their jobs. The Enterprise is more a home to them than the places they have in San Francisco.

Nyota pulls her hair out of its long ponytail, shaking it out over her shoulders. It hasn’t even been five minutes since the last time she glanced at the chrono. Where are they?

Taking the wine with her, she heads into their bedroom and then to her section of the closet where she strips out of her Starfleet uniform and tosses it in the laundry basket. She slips into a pair of comfortable sweats and picks out a favorite old t-shirt of Jim’s to pull on. It’s musty from disuse and she doesn’t remember why she hadn’t taken it with them before the last mission.

It’s one of her favorites. It’s a faded blue that used to match Jim’s eyes and hangs down past her waist. Wearing it reminds her of the first time she kissed Jim, barely off duty and away from prying eyes. He’d been shell shocked and wary, wondering if it was an elaborate prank.

After some coaxing to convince Jim that it wasn’t a prank, she’d dragged him off on a joint shore leave. They spent more time avoiding being seen by their crew than anything else.

It also reminds her of when she broached bringing Hikaru into things because Jim wasn’t going to be the one that risked losing what they had for something more. As non-risk prone as he was on missions, he was far more cautious in his personal life. But Nyota had seen the way Hikaru had looked at them both and decided to take a chance.

It’s been working so far and between the two of them they’ve managed to keep Jim relatively safe. She smiles when she hears the distant chime of the door. Someone’s home. She takes her wine with her as she heads back down the hall to see who it is. She moves on silent feet hoping they won’t notice her things already there. She makes it to the end of the hallway to see Hikaru flopped over face first on the couch.

She leans against the wall with a hip cocked away from it. Looks like she wasn’t the only one with a long day and just wanting the chance to decompress at home. “Hey handsome,” she calls out.

Hikaru pushes himself up and glances in her direction with a tired smile. “Hey, didn’t realize you were home.” He lets his eyes run over her a second time and his smile brightens. “You definitely have the right idea.”

He stretches and tucks himself against one of the couch arms then pats the seat next to him. She comes over and shifts to lay against him with her head against his shoulder. His arm comes up around her shoulders to trail lightly over her arm. She soaks up the warmth of him and hands him her wine to set on the end table so she can slide an arm around his waist.

Nyota feels a kiss pressed against her hair. “Jim still not home?”

“Meetings must’ve tied him up again.”

“Why’d we ever take up with him again?”

“Because you love surprises,” Jim says.

Both she and Hikaru jump and look up to find Jim smirking at them from the entry hall. His hair’s ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly and his shoulders are tight with tension.

“What kept you so long, asshole? We were getting tired of waiting,” Hikaru says.

Jim shrugs and lifts a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. “The usual bullshit. Glad to see you two got started without me.” He shoots them a lecherous grin. “You know how I love to interrupt things.”

Nyota rolls her eyes and rises to her feet then walks over to him for a kiss. He still melts like he always has and wraps his arms around her. His hand cards through her hair and he pulls her tight against him. He breaks the kiss to bury his face against her neck. She grips the back of his neck and holds on just as tight.

He pulls back after a moment and the smile on his face is the real Jim, not the persona he plasters on to cater to the brass. She kisses him softly cupping his face with her hands before stepping to the side to let Hikaru get his share.

Her boys eye each other then Hikaru grabs Jim by the shoulders and pulls him in close. Jim laughs and gives a play shove before collapsing into Hikaru’s arms. He gets his hair messed up even more than he’s hauled up into a kiss nowhere near as tender as hers and Jim’s was.

The kiss ends when Hikaru breaks it and puts Jim in a headlock. She rolls her eyes at them both. Jim breaks free and Hikaru snags an arm while she grabs the other then says, “I think we can all agree it’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jim’s already stifling a yawn. He’s not even pretending to be awake anymore now that he’s with them.

Without even speaking, she and Hikaru start dragging Jim down the hallway toward their bedroom. “I’m all for calling it a night.”

Jim’s practically nodding off while they walk and it’s Hikaru that shoves him down onto the bed. He and Nyota share a look before they pull off Jim’s boots. Hikaru kicks off his own before he pushes and shoves Jim into the middle of their bed. He crawls onto the bed and curls against Jim’s side until he’s comfortable. He shoots her a look but he can’t blame her for liking the look of her boys curled up together. She swats at him as she climbs over them both to her side of the bed and spoons up beside Jim.

He’s just about out but murmurs “home” as he shifts into the warmth of them both. She tucks her chin against Jim’s shoulder and stretches an arm across him to lace her hand with Hikaru’s. He squeezes hers and tucks his head against Jim’s back. She finally feels like she’s in her own skin.

“Yes, you are, Jim. We all are.”

Previous | Index

FIC: Hot Rod Mustang (PG-13) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-08-14T14:30:12Z

Title: Hot Rod Mustang
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Edward Elric, Roy Mustang
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 249
Completed: August 8, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 231 - Lead
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: It’s been a while since I’ve written Ed so here he is being all Ed.

Summary: Ed wishes Mustang didn’t have to literally live up to his name.

Ed clung to the passenger side door as Mustang took a corner on what felt like two wheels. “What’re you doing?! Stop driving like a maniac!”

He glances over and Mustang doesn’t even look the least bit ruffled. “What are you talking about, Edward? This is how I normally drive.”

“So that’s why the Lieutenant drives you all over the place. Look out!”

Mustang barely moves the car sideways in time to avoid ramming the back of a delivery truck. “A man of my status shouldn’t skimp on the privileges afforded to his rank. There needs to be a clear seperation between officers and their subordinates.”

“Bullshit,” Ed mutters and glares murderously out the front window. How’d he even get roped into riding with Mustang anyway? “Is there a point to this besides taking years off my life?”

“I had hoped you would use this as an opportunity to divulge any new information while we were certain of privacy.” Mustang looks across at him. “I would also like to remind you that discretion should be used.”

Ed waves a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah, and no, Al and I haven’t learned anything new.”

Mustang makes a noncommittal sound then skids to a stop in front of the hotel he and Al are staying at. “In that case, I expect to see you tomorrow morning.”

Ed scrambles out with a scowl but nods then watches as Mustang peels out with a screech of tires. Ed snorts. “Fucking lead foot Mustang.”

FIC: Liquid Bravado (PG-13) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-08-06T05:09:02Z

Title: Liquid Bravado
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jean Havoc
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 332
Completed: August 1, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 230 - Ginger
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: Jean is always fun to write. I wish there was more fic out there with him.

Summary: Jean Havoc doesn't have a type like everyone thinks he does.

Jean doesn’t have a type, not really. Blonde, brunette, raven, redhead. It doesn’t matter. He’s a breast man and proud of it but sometimes he wonders if he’s missing out. He doesn’t have much of a track record with women. They usually end up leaving him for someone else. Always along the lines of “it’s not you, it’s me” shit.

Once was okay, two times maybe just bad luck, but three times? There’s a pattern going on there. He’s a decent guy and all into the romance the ladies should like. He wouldn’t be caught dead asking Mustang advice. He’s a good man and he’d follow him into hell and back but there’s just some things a guy’s gotta do on his own, you know?

Breda would tell him to stop trying so hard and just be himself but he can’t just do that. His momma raised him better than that. He’s more than just a simple boy who wants to wine and dine the lady. He needs to treat them right. And this is where Breda would give him shit for listening to his momma so much. Like he’s one to talk. Breda loves Jean’s mom and he’s practically another son of hers.

The reason he’s having all these issues is all Mustang’s fault. He takes his job seriously no matter what anyone thinks. He’s loyal though he’s not the smartest one in the bunch, that’s Breda’s job. He has his use and he’s damn good at his job.

There’s this pretty redhead at the bar he and Breda go to when they want to get away from all the intrigue and politics they usually deal with. He doesn’t think she might be one of Mustang’s, contacts or whatever, but he’s also not sure if she’s a Mustang groupie.

What the hell. Jean slams back a drink, shoots Breda a grin, and swaggers over to the pretty redhead. A guy’s always got a shot and there’s no reward without the risk.

FIC: Healing Growth (PG-13) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-08-06T05:07:31Z

Title: Healing Growth
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Gracia Hughes
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 888
Completed: July 25, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 229 - Green Thumb
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Author’s Notes: I'm just writing all the characters now aren't I.

Summary: The only fitting memorial for a man like Maes wasn't cold stone and in the process of its creation it becomes so much more.

The garden starts as a memorial for Maes because she can’t stand to think of him as cold and still when he never was in life. It also quickly becomes something to make her sweet Elysia smile in the pain filled days and months that follow.

They don’t have much space out on their balcony but that doesn’t stop her from filling it with pots and plants until there’s only a narrow path left for them to use. It soothes her to be grounded in the here and now of growing things. To focus on the present is better than on the future where her dreams lie scattered on the ground, broken and seeping.

Maes was always a man of grand plans and promises. What made him special was he made them real. It’s why the nights are the worst when the worries creep in and the dreams, nightmares, take hold. They show her what her future should’ve been. Elysia growing up into a talented, bold woman like her father. They’d have albums overflowing with pictures and hardly any place to put them. She sees the world she was promised playing out in her dreams only to awaken to the empty stillness of morning.

She’s taken to letting Elysia crawl into bed with her to fill the absence of Maes, to stop being so alone in the mornings in a bed better made for two. She needs to put a stop to it before the comfort hardens into routine and calcifies the pain into what their lives center on. Elysia has too much life left for Gracia to let that happen.

Amid the flowers that bloom in early August when Central City’s sweltering in the heat, their first vegetables come in. Tomatoes and zucchinis, perfect and fragile, like the life laid out in front of her. They’re tender and succulent and make excellent dishes for her and Elysia.

Gracia’s unprepared for the way the plants overflow their pots and turn her balcony into even more of a jungle. Soon enough she has more vegetables to eat than she knows what to do with. More tomatoes and zucchinis, spinach, and chives, and peppers. All she goes to the store for nowadays is meat to lend different flavors to their food.

She’s canning and pickling and preserving her garden every way she can. She’s putting away more money than she’s spending. Much more than she thought possible with Maes gone. Elysia’s future is looking more secure with every passing day.

She does all of this after a tiring day at work, but she doesn’t mind. It keeps her busy. It keeps her from thinking too much about what’s missing. Whenever the Elrics stop by she puts them to work. With more hands, she gets more done and they’re always eager to help. They play with Elysia and when their laughter fills her home she feels peace.

Roy Mustang also stops by. Far less frequently than the Elrics and with an awkward reserve that’s a holdover from when she and Maes were dating. The air is also always laced with his guilt and grief. It’s as tangled and heavy on his shoulders as the sentiment the Elric brothers bear. All of them are still chasing the goals that likely lead Maes to his death. But unlike Roy, Edward and Alphonse cover theirs with light and joy. Roy turns harder, burns brighter, with purpose and justice.

She wants to tell them Maes would’ve done it anyway. It was his nature and nothing would’ve stopped him even if he knew how it would all end. She has told Edward and Alphonse this. She’s not sure if their souls were lightened any but they’ve had enough hardship pressed on them. They didn’t need the illusion of her condemnation.

She’s also told Roy this but she thinks he’s too grown into taking burdens upon himself to take comfort in the small bit of absolution she can offer. Gracia makes her home welcome to him whenever he does stop by. She hopes, for his sake, that one day he finds who murdered her husband and brings them to justice. Vengeance is a companion no one should have for long while grief is the worn blanket that will linger with you through life.

Soon enough she’s pressing the excess from her garden into the hands of the Elrics and Mustang. They need looking after despite what they may think and it lets her feel tied to the world outside of her Elysia. It’s the small things that matter and allow her to climb her way into a new life.

One day she walks out into the leafy foliage and breathes in the scent of dirt and growing things. She looks around at all she’s managed to do and it’s much more than she ever expected. She closes her eyes feeling the sun beat down on her face. For a moment, it feels like arms encircle her and a warm voice murmurs “I love you.”

Gracia knows then she’ll be fine. She’ll make it through this and anything else life may throw at her. She reaches out to gently rub green leaves between her fingers. Plans for next year’s garden already swirl in her head. Things won’t ever be the same again but they won’t be horrible either.

FIC: Destruction's Reign (PG-13) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-07-25T16:12:57Z

Title: Destruction’s Reign
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Solf J. Kimblee
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 273
Completed: July 18, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 228 - Plead
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: Well, I never expected to write Kimblee and and his POV is creepy.

Summary: He delights in the destruction and death that rain in his shadow.

They plead with their eyes, beg him with their words, but no matter what they offer it's not enough. They could never offer anything that would be equal to watching the life seep out of their eyes. It's the jewel at the top of his crown of destruction. One he polishes each time he taunts and torments the pitiful insects that fall before his power.

Here, in the ruins and dust of Ishval, he feels at home like nowhere else. He is the monster in the labyrinth, ruler of his domain, and the master of all. They can say what they want but his purpose is now clear. He is the scythe through the chaff and no one will stand in his way. He is above them all.

The dust on his skin feels like a reawakening, bringing forth new life in his body and in his spirit. He's never felt more clear headed and while they may call him devil they will never find what he's found. He's connected to the earth and its cycles. Destruction always must come first before rejuvenation.

He is absolution and purity. He will remake the world in his image. The creators, the high minded alchemists, held up high, will struggle in his shadow and claw for the few pieces he leaves behind. He's a weapon of the highest order that can be used for the purposes of many but first and foremost his own. Alliances will be made that further his own aims because there is nothing better than destruction and death. He will use it to rule them all. Anything less would be beneath him.

FIC: A Gleam in Golden Eyes (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-07-17T01:46:39Z

Title: A Gleam in Golden Eyes
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Either
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Trisha Elric, Edward Elric
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 250
Completed: July 07, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 227 - Mixup
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: This is super fluffy and sweet. Also, Baby Ed is precious.

Summary: She looks at her two boys and worries about their future.

"Edward, honey, please don't poke your brother." Trisha snags Ed's hand before he reaches the sleeping bundle of blankets beside her and tucks it back by his side. Ed's barely one and he can say "no" and "yes" and "maybe" but doesn't understand what they mean.

He's curious. Like his father. Those golden eyes gleam under unruly golden hair and she sees so much of Hohenheim in Ed already. His curiosity and the defiant cast to his eyes when he doesn't get what he wants.

Alphonse...Alphonse is like her. Sweet in temperament and calmly curious about the world when he isn't eating or sleeping. She wonders if Ed thinks Alphonse is a mix up. Something they brought home that doesn't belong. It wouldn't surprise her if Ed did. He's so young but she can tell he's not the same as other children.

His eyes shine with an intelligence that she's never seen in another child's eyes. His brother's gleam with it too and she worries that her boys, her sweet boys, will get themselves into trouble.

She smoothes her hand over Ed's spikey hair and rubs a smudge of food from the corner of his mouth. She caught him trying to feed Alphonse some of his baby food this morning and that was after he tried to feed him toy blocks and grass and dirt. Already her little scientist.

Trisha shakes her head and smiles as Ed dozes off. Her sweet boys. She looks forward to seeing them grow up.

FIC: Trashy Headlines and Gossip Rags (PG-13) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-07-13T20:41:52Z

Title: Trashy Headlines and Gossip Rags
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Roy Mustang/Edward Elric
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 2,610
Completed: July 13, 2013
Challenge: fma_slashfest
Prompt: 12 Roy/Ed (Any): I don’t have the right name or the right looks.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: Evidently I need to do more prompt fests considering how much I’ve written in the last week.

Summary: Mustang’s the consummate bachelor and sometimes the ensuing speculation gets to Ed.

AO3 |

Ed stomps into Mustang's private quarters with a rolled up newspaper clutched under his arm. He's muttering obscenities under his breath. There's sheer stupidity printed in the stupid Eastern newspaper. Somehow it'd made front page headlines that Mustang wasn't going to be attending Eastern Command's military ball with a date.

He slams the paper down on the hall table as he shrugs out of his light colored jacket, hanging it up with one hand while raking his other hand over his hair. Stupid piece of shit newspaper then went on to detail the top prospects in the region for Mustang to choose from. Ed toes out of his boots and stomps down the hallway into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of cold wine and barely stops himself from gulping it down.

Yeah, he knew what he was signing up for when he stayed in the military and followed Mustang out East but dammit, sometimes it's stupid. It's not his fault he's not the ideal for an up and coming big name in the military. Ed stalks back through the kitchen and down another hallway to see if his bastard's actually home for the day.

He highly doubts it since it's only the middle of the afternoon and Mustang, despite his reputation, does like to put in some long hours at the office. Ed blows his bangs off his forehead and moves from room to room. Even though he was right, it doesn't stop him from scowling.

He moves into their bedroom closet and strips out of his clothes, kicking them into a pile in the corner. Mustang's going to be on his ass about that later but right now he could care less. He pulls on loose sparring pants and eyes a shirt. Screw it. He's going to end up hot and sweaty as it is. He doesn't need a shirt to make him sweat more. He reties his hair then grabs his practice knives from their spot on the shelf.

There’s nothing better for working out emotions than a hard workout. He also grabs his wine to finish it off, depositing the glass in the kitchen before he makes his way into the small enclosed yard at the back of the General's compound. The knife throwing dummies are shoved off to the side. Some are in states of disrepair, mostly as a result of him forgetting to fix them after a session. He'll have to do that today before he gets started.

It's second nature to stretch and let his body go through movements he's done a million times, but it unfortunately allows his mind to wander to that stupid newspaper article again. It's not his fault he doesn't have the right name or the right looks. It's definitely not his fault for being male. How the fuck was he supposed to know he'd meet the stupid bastard and they wouldn't be able to be anything but what they are to each other.

He rolls into a tumble then comes out of it with a flying kick, spinning with arms braced for a counterattack that's not coming. He shakes the hair out of his face and goes through a familiar sequence of kicks and punches. This would be a much better workout if he actually had someone to spar against but even if Mustang was home, he's too worked up for the usual sparring niceties. He can't go bruising up the General a couple days before a big shindig after all.

Ed snorts and backflips into a sweeping ground kick. Sometimes he's wondered if it wouldn't be easier for Mustang to find someone female and pretty and settle down. Let his womanizing reputation be put to rest and make himself appear less like a threat than he already does. He's never brought the issue up to Mustang's face because he can just imagine the response he'd get.

Mustang's forehead would furrow and he'd fold his hands on the table in front of him. There'd be a slight frown on his face and he'd say something like, "Edward, my reputation best serves me as it is. There would be too many undue complications if I were to 'take a wife,' as you put it."

He'd probably lean forward and say firmly, "First, many would assume I'd have more time to focus on my political aspirations since I would no longer be chasing women. Second, it would be rather difficult to conduct missions on a strictly need to know basis." Then he’d reach across the table to give Ed’s hand a familiar reassuring squeeze.

"She would most likely be suspicious and create more complications instead of reducing them. So while I value the fact you're looking out for my wellbeing, the situation as it stands now is quite satisfactory for my goals." Mustang would then probably smile at him and brush his fingers along his jaw, completely derailing the point Ed was trying to make. Because, sure, his explanation for how things would go wrong is good, but Ed has a sneaking suspicion, it would still go far easier than the constant gossip about him that occurs now.

Ed's breathing hard by the time he decides flipping around in the afternoon sun has made him sweaty enough. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat from his eyes and looks around for a towel. Dammit, he forgot to get that and a bottle of cold water. He doesn't want to tromp into the house covered in sweat only to come right back. He'll have to do without for now.

He rolls his shoulders then moves to the left side of the yard where the throwing dummies are. They're nothing more than straw bound together in the shape of a human body but they work for his purposes. He drags the less bedraggled ones into a line in front of a sloped mound of dirt. It’s much easier to deal with hauling dirt around than fixing up holes in the wooden fencing.

He took up knife throwing as a tribute to Brigadier General Hughes but he quickly learned that the whole thing wasn't much more than a threat deterrent. It makes him wonder just how Hughes always managed to get his knives to land blade first in his targets. He never saw it firsthand, but he's heard enough stories about Hughes' knife throwing to be pretty suspicious. Ed manages it half the time, which is pretty decent but it's all a matter of everything going right at the right time.

Ed walks out several throwing distances and he could probably walk out more to cover the whole courtyard but knives due to the way they spin through the air get more difficult to throw the farther away from the target. He's working up to a large throwing distance but a gun will always be more effective at longer ranges.

He goes through stances one at a time until he can hit the target at least ten times before he moves into the next one. The stances vary from ones that give the most power and require time to set up to the ones used in the moment for shock value. It's easy to step back, plant his foot, then rotate and throw with his upper body. He also practices with each hand because always having an additional advantage up his sleeve doesn't hurt anyone but his opponent.

He gets lost in the easy rhythm of set, throw, retrieve until he's lost all track of time. All he knows is the thunkthunk of the blades into the target or their thuds to the ground. He's sweating just as much as he was practicing sparring but in some ways this is completely different. He's centered and focused and restrained. Words he knows many people would never use to describe him.

He's on the last target and probably the last few throws when he hears the soft scuff of a foot coming off the steps of the backdoor. His turning to look skews his throw and it thuds harmlessly into the ground as he sees it's Mustang. He arches an eyebrow and calls out, "You made me mess up."

"Apologies." Mustang waves for him to continue. Ed looks at him a moment before he shrugs and does so. He's just about done anyway and if Mustang's just come home then it's not too big of a deal. It takes him less than a dozen more throws before he's hit his mark of ten hits then he drags the dummies to their position back alongside the fence. He even takes an extra moment to fix them all up before he heads for Mustang who's sitting in one of their deck chairs watching him.

"You're home early. Business get taken care of?" Ed asks as he comes up beside Mustang. There’s a towel and water bottle on the table that Mustang must’ve brought out for him because he doesn’t look like he needs them. He picks up the towel and rubs himself down with it gratefully then picks up the water bottle sweating in the heat to gulp down several swallows.

"For the most part." Mustang squints up at him and Ed moves to lean against the table edge. "You look like you've been out here a while. Any particular reason?"

Ed shrugs and drinks more of the cold water. He needs to stop letting himself forget to grab a bottle when he works out. He doesn't really want to talk to Mustang about the damn newspaper article and everything else that's happening in the next couple days. "You bring home dinner?"

Ed's an okay cook when he puts his mind to it but nowhere near as good as Mustang. Most of the time he waits til Mustang gets home to eat and that means Mustang's the one bringing home dinner unless Ed's starving and just orders in.

"Yes, it's sitting in the kitchen for when we're ready." Mustang pushes to his feet and comes close to wrap his arms around Ed. He brushes a kiss against his lips and holds him tight. "I am glad you're here, Edward."

It all makes Ed suspicious because something's obviously up. He can tell. His bastard doesn't act this way unless he's planning something and he's usually only planning something for them when he feels like he's done something wrong. As far as Ed remembers, he hasn't gotten pissed off at the bastard recently so is he reading Ed's mood wrong and making up something to apologize for? Ed leans back out of Mustang's embrace and looks at him with narrowed eyes. "What the hell are you doing? I'm disgusting right now and you have nothing to be apologizing for."

Mustang chuckles and brushes his fingers along Ed's jaw. "I'm not doing anything. I can't enjoy touching you?"

He grumbles and still eyes Mustang warily. Okay, so maybe he's overreacting a little. You can't blame him. He's had a shitty day and the workout was just starting to make it less shitty. Now that Mustang's here, it's even less shitty than it was before. He just wants it to stay that way. "Let me get cleaned up then we can have dinner."

That earns him an arched eyebrow. "When have you ever put cleanliness above getting food into your stomach?"

Ed wants to have a rebuttal but his stomach betrays him by growling loudly right then. He scowls at Mustang's laugh and shoves at him. "Fine, food first then I'm getting clean."

"Whatever you say, Edward. There are no protests on my part at looking at you half dressed." His skins heats at the words like it always does but he'll deal with that later. Food's the more important thing right now.

Ed walks into the kitchen to find a dinner for two set out and the delicious smell of his favorite dish, spiced lamb curry, wafting from the table. "Not apologizing for anything, my ass," he mutters. "What's all this for, Mustang?"

"I can't decide to treat you?" Mustang pulls out a chair and gestures for Ed to take a seat. "Just sit and enjoy, Edward, please."

Ed sits as he humors Mustang for now. He doubts he'll have long to wait before he gets an explanation. He manages to wait until Mustang sits down before digging into the food and there's nothing but the sounds of him eating for a while. He catches Mustang looking at him with fondness in his eyes every now and then. He takes one more bite and then after he swallows says, "What? What are you staring at?"

"Nothing, nothing." After a moment the softness leaves Mustang's face and Ed knows he's about to get his explanation. Mustang picks up something from his lap and at first Ed has no idea what it is. He frowns when he realizes it's the newspaper he had earlier. "Edward...."

Ed shakes his head. "No, don't you start with me. It's just a stupid newspaper. It's nothing important."

"But important enough for you to bring it into the house? And for you to need an intense workout after reading it?"

Ed scowls back at him. He knew he never should've read the damn thing but everyone was talking about it. He figured he needed to read it for himself, which was a pretty big mistake now. "It's fine. I'm just being stupid."

Mustang sighs and pushes back from the table so he can edge his chair closer to Ed's. He takes one of his hands between his and squeezes. "What you feel is never stupid."

"This time it is." Ed sets his jaw and glares. He's not having this conversation with Mustang. He doesn't need to worry about it. He's perfectly, absolutely fine. "Just lay off, bastard. It's nothing."

Mustang rolls his eyes then leans in and kisses him. It's a soft kiss and at first Ed's unwilling to give in to it. Mustang doesn't push and finally he decides to relent. That's when Mustang deepens the kiss and Ed feels like the world doesn't exist anymore. Sure hands trace over his face and pull him closer. One slides into his hair and skims over his neck in a barely there touch. His body's vibrating with the sensation that Mustang never fails to invoke in him.

Soon enough he's crawling into Mustang's lap, straddling him in the chair, while he wraps his arms around him to try and get closer. He's dizzy from the kiss or lack of air he's not sure but only then does Mustang let up. He smiles slowly at him and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "This, Edward, this is why there is no one else for me. You are beyond description and those people at the newspaper, gossiping about what I could want or need? They're wrong, so very wrong."

Ed huffs out a breath as he picks at the shoulder of Mustang's shirt. Stupid bastard. "Maybe I shouldn't have picked up the paper...."

"Yes, you really shouldn't have."

Ed opens his mouth to say something but he's cut off by another kiss. Maybe he'll just let this go since Mustang seems more than determined to make him. Whatever, it's not like kissing the bastard is such a chore. He settles in closer and moans softly into the kiss as Mustang's hands start to roam lower. Mustang knows all the best ways to make him stop thinking and it’s not like he’s protesting. They might just have to make an early night of it.

Yeah, this is much better than thinking.

FIC: Thoughts of the Future (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-07-10T20:44:17Z

Title: Thoughts of the Future
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Mei Chang/Alphonse Elric
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 681
Completed: July 04, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 226 - Wedding
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: I need to write the Xing contingent more often.

Summary: She's attending her first Amestrian wedding, but it won't be her last.

Mei is still unused to the cold in the north part of Amestris. The last time she was in the region was during the lead up to the Promised Day. Much has happened since then and she's had little reason to return until now. Despite being the warmer part of the year, there's still a chill in the air. It brings a clarity to the day that only seems fitting for the occasion they're marking.

She is glad she chose a thicker outfit than she had been advised. They will be inside for the ceremony but it is still nowhere near as warm as Xing. She smoothes her hands over the light purple silk covering her body then tugs at her braids to make certain they won't come loose. She beams into the mirror then spins to exit their room and go find Al.

When the invitation arrived, she was surprised because she didn't think Al and Edward had been that close with Mustang's unit. The many stories she's heard Al tell of their travels under Mustang's command did not involve them. Sometimes she forgets that Al was ever anywhere else but by her side in Xing. He has a fierce adoration and fascination with learning everything she can teach him about alkahestry and her country. He seems to have always been Xingese and reminders about his Amestrian heritage are jarring.

But here, today, she will not think of that. She will not think about how she wants a day like this of her own or how she cannot see herself with anyone but Al. They are young, yes, and the burden of carrying on her clan's legacy is no longer as heavy as it was, but it still lies on her shoulders.

Her feet clatter down the inn steps and through the stone entry hall into the large room where Falman will marry his bride. It is decked out in soft pink flowers and white everywhere the eye can see. These are not the colors Mei would have at her own ceremony.

There would be many more bright colors, clan colors, and ones that are her and Al's favorites. Her family would be teeming everywhere, beaming with joy, and mingling with Al's friends and relatives. Because while there is joy in the air, it's more of an expectation of long drawn out tradition and ritual. It feels stiff and restrained. The jubilation withheld until a more proper occasion. The chi of the people here fluctuate between happiness and annoyance. But that is not her concern.

She scans the crowd for a splash of bright gold and spots Ed first. He's seated beside Mustang in the second row along with everyone else in his unit. Falman and his bride's families fill the front row. Al should be close and there he is seated just behind Ed.

Mei eases her way through the throng of others making their way to their own seats with soft "excuse mes" and settles in her seat. Al gives her a soft smile and reaches out to take her hand. She clasps it within both of her own and squeezes.

"You look beautiful," he says.

She ducks her head and smiles as she feels the blush heat her cheeks. "Thank you for inviting me."

"You'll always be the one I take to things like these." He raises their joined hands and brushes a kiss against her hand.

She wants to say something, tell him how much he means to her, but music begins to play and a hush falls over the crowd. Necks turn toward the back of the room and Mei looks too. This will be her first Amestrian wedding but unlikely to be her last. Al is one of those that makes friends everywhere he goes and he has lived in Amestris a long time.

He squeezes her hand again and she looks at him. His gold eyes sparkle and he mouths, "I love you."

Mei knows no matter what may come in the future she is happy now and she will cherish the feeling.

FIC: The Colonel's Knitting Circle (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-07-07T18:27:42Z

Title: The Colonel’s Knitting Circle
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Heymans Breda
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 755
Completed: June 27, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 225 - Gender Flip
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: I seem to be going through Roy's unit now because here's one from Breda.

Summary: You can find gossip hounds everywhere.

When he was a kid, his dad would always moan and complain about the knitting circle that was his former unit. Breda never understood what he meant by it until he joined the military himself. In the Academy, nothing was kept secret for more than two seconds. Everyone was always up in your business. It was the lucky person who managed to keep anything secret.

You got used to the gossip. It was either that or you'd be driven up the wall wondering who was saying what or seeing what for that matter. There were a couple times it got out of hand and the headmaster got involved. Suffice it to say, they were all miserable for a couple weeks. It was better than someone ending up strung up on the flagpole.

Breda wasn't sure if that was just rumor or had actually been done in the past. His dad had told him stories about it plenty of times but there wasn't any official record of the thing. He chalked it up as plausible but unverified since he never did find any solid proof of it while he was there.

Havoc never gave him much time to dig around. Most weekend leaves they were out running the bars and looking for good times. Havoc was the kind of guy his dad had said were good soldiers when they got around to it 'cause he was good with a rifle and having your back but was absolute shit in class. He can't count the number of times he bailed Havoc out on some assignment or another.

The other thing about Havoc was he just fit right into the culture. The gossip rolled right off his back like it didn't matter at all. Breda would go back and forth between wanting to squash everything that was floating around and not giving a shit.

Though the whole knitting circle mentality has come in handy when it comes to working for Mustang. Getting personally recruited by the colonel with a reputation wasn't something Breda'd been expecting. Yeah, he graduated top of his Academy class but there were plenty of others who'd done the same.

Top it all off with Havoc getting recruited right along with him? He hadn't known what to make of Mustang. That quickly went away when he had him oversee one intel gathering mission. It'd been intricate and delicate. Word of it leaking out would set some powerful people against Mustang and that wasn't the aim. It went off without a hitch and with Mustang only occasionally looking over his shoulder like he actually trusted him to do his job.

That was the good of it. He wasn't too pleased with the codename he'd been assigned. Not that the others fared any better. Once he realized what the others were being called he laughed. Mustang had given the illusion of truth to his whole pretty boy reputation and it was a damn good one.

With them acting as the women in his life, Mustang never got looked at twice when he was out, especially with him having girls from the Madame's place to cement the cover even further. Then a couple of beers with old Academy buddies every couple weeks and some complaints about Mustang to fill their ears and no one was the wiser.

Just let the knitting circle do its work and things would be just fine.

The way the stories would get twisted and warped amused Breda to no end. They'd eventually wind their way out of Central to Eastern Command and who knows where else before coming back and Breda loved listening to their retellings. There'd be three women fighting over Mustang when there hadn't been any or a ménage à trois that happened when it'd simply been a dinner date.

As much as his dad had hated it, Breda can't say too much against the knitting circle. It's been good for their plans and well, it always gives them plenty of fodder for mission covers. You'd just never expect it and that's the perfection of it. No one would think they were deliberately using the grapevine the way they are, not with how Mustang acts. Everyone’s always too busy talking about Mustang for them to get into his business so he can’t say he’s not benefiting too.

Havoc’s due at his door soon so they can spread some more rumors. It’s a fun evening out on assignment and Mustang foots their beer tab. What gets any better than that?

FIC: Memories of Yesteryear (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-06-27T01:09:25Z

Title: Memories of Yesteryear
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jean Havoc
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 422
Completed: June 20, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 224 - Bad Date
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: And now one from Jean’s POV. There was a lot of loss tied into Jean’s departure from the military, more than what you’d expect so here’s something exploring that.

Summary: Settling down was always the end goal until it wasn’t.

It's that time of the year again and if he could he'd rip out the month from the calendar, skipping from the one before to the one after. He doesn't have that much of a reason to hate it. He's just reminded of a time in his life when he was sitting far from the action. He still played his role with supplying extra ammunition and getting Rebecca and Maria down into Central. It just wasn't enough.

That whole period made him reconsider just how career military he was. He always talked about leaving after he found a nice woman to settle down with, but when the choice was taken away from him.… Jean missed things more than he thought he would.

He did just fine helping his parents run the general store. He wasn't blind either. He's seen some of the ladies there eying him, but he grew up with most, if not all, of them. Somehow settling down especially in the town he grew up in doesn't seem as appealing as it once did.

His parents have a good life. The kind that if he was someone else he'd want for himself. Maybe after all that traveling and action, he's not the same guy that enlisted.

Walking again made things a whole hell of a lot better but it's also made them more difficult. It unbroke his mother's heart so that was the best thing, but it's made him wonder just who he's become. Breda would tell him to stop thinking and leave that to people more used to it. Maybe Jean'll even follow his advice for once.

The travel and actually feeling like he was a part of things mattered more than he thought it would. Fresh out of the Academy, he figured he'd be able to give it all up with a snap of his fingers just like he gave up living at home. He's grown too big for the dusty, old town back East now. There's a wandering edge to him that's here to stay for good.

Staying in one place too long sends an itch along his spine and a need to see something new. It's not the life his parents wanted for him, but it's the life he chose. He's good with that, the happy and the bad, and this way his contacts at the store come in pretty handy. You never know when Mustang might need a mission equipped under the table and Havoc's General Store is the place where you can find anything.

FIC: Nothing Glamorous (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-06-20T19:07:47Z

Title: Nothing Glamorous
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kain Fuery
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 249
Completed: June 13, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 223 - Salt in the Wound
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: This is an interesting piece from Fuery’s POV. Also, in my personal canon the Amestrian military has basic training then additional training for officers at the Academy.

Summary: His military instructors said luck is for the unprepared.

In basic, they grind into you the technique and reflex that'll see you through any war or at least that's what they tell you. What they don't tell you is how shitty war is. Kain listens to the artillery landing all over the place to his left and pushes his glasses back up his nose. War is hell. Two seconds assigned out to the battlefront told him that and he guesses his training's served him well. He's still breathing. For now anyway.

Maybe it's luck helping him survive. Either way, war wasn't something he was supposed to see. Not when Mustang handpicked him for his unit and swept him away from the common drudgery that radio communications usually turned out to be. And Amestris should've put behind her her warmongering days. At least that was the appearance in Central City.

He may look young and innocent but he went through the same training as they all did. He's held onto his belief in the good things longer than the rest of them, but he can't say he'd want it to be any different. He's a soldier whether people remember that or not.

Kain takes a deep breath then peeks over the dirt channel during a pause in the shelling. The radio pack bounces heavily against his back as he runs crouched low to find his commanding officer.

Hazard pay isn't as rewarding as they'd made it sound. He's going to tell Breda and Havoc that when he sees them.

FIC: Destinations Unknown (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-06-20T19:04:56Z

Title: Destinations Unknown
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Post Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, Jean Havoc, Alphonse Elric, and Edward Elric
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 1,280
Completed: June 6, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 222 - Did You Ever…?
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: Yay! A fic from someone other than Roy’s POV.

Summary: They’ve come a long way from the boys they used to be.

If you'd asked him to imagine what life would be like when it was all said and done, this wouldn't have been the life he would've described. Back when it all began, when he was trapped in a suit of armor and more worried about keeping Ed from sacrificing himself to protect him and trying to keep the broken pieces of Ed together, the future was this vague thing that would happen one day. He never would've pictured himself here today in a relationship with an amazing woman, learning more every day, along with being the Amestrian ambassador to Xing.

Thankfully he's passed on the worrying over Ed's lack of survival instincts to someone better equipped to handle the issue. He even thinks Fuhrer Mustang's managed to teach Ed to value his own hide, something Al was never able to accomplish himself. Back then, he never would've imagined Ed would want to stay in the military much less continue under Mustang's command. They're still at each other's throats more often than not, like right now, and if Ed doesn't stop it they're going to be late.

"Brother, would you just let them pin the award to your chest for tonight?"

Ed spins to face him, betrayal writ large on his features, and sputters, "But I don't want it! I didn't even earn it! The men under my command did!"

"Edward, please listen to your brother." There's a muscle twitching above Mustang's eye and Al grins because things really haven't changed much at all. "We can continue arguing about it later, but we really mustn't be late for dinner with the rest of the Xingese delegation."

Ed swipes the glittering gold medal out of Mustang's hand and mutters lowly under his breath as he attaches it to the breast pocket of the Amestrian uniform he's wearing. Al still can't get over the sight of Ed in an actual uniform. It'd been a point of pride for years that he never aligned himself with the military by wearing its uniform and here now he is.

Mustang rests a hand on his shoulder then moves toward the door with Hawkeye trailing at his side. Havoc emerges from the back room adjusting his own uniform. "We ready to go now, chief?"

"Yes, now that Edward's given in." Mustang turns toward Hawkeye. "Remind me what I need to remember for tonight."

There's an amused glint in Hawkeye's eyes as she says dryly, "You're dining tonight with Emperor Ling himself and several of his close advisors. I believe he's brought several gifts along he wishes to present to you tonight."

"Oh?" A casual note of interest enters Mustang's voice and the man could never turn down an opportunity to embellish his reputation. But Al doesn't have much more time to spend listening to that conversation as Ed comes up and slings an arm around his shoulders.

"So, how've you been, Al? I don't get nearly as many letters from you as Winry it seems."

Al rolls his eyes and elbows Ed in the side. "Because you're too busy to read them. I've been fine. Mei's been teaching me lots about alkahestry. Did you know there's so much more we could do if we combined it with alchemy?"

Ed's fingers are picking at the smooth silk shirt he's wearing and he swats them away. "Stop that. You'll wrinkle it."

"You've gone and gotten fancy on me," Ed says with a smirk. "You a celebrity over there? You are dating royalty after all."

He groans an covers his face with his hands. "Brother! It's not like that."

"Uh huh." And Ed's smirking more at him. Just great. He's not going to be able to look Ling in the face tonight. "Brother, don't forget you need to be on your best behavior with Ling. His advisors don't like people getting too informal with him."

The look on Ed's face degenerates into a mixuture of a scowl and a pout as he pulls away. "Then why did the idiot have to bring them with him?"

"Because they wouldn't let him come otherwise. Brother, promise me you won't cause an international incident."

Al starts as another arm drops onto his shoulder and glances back to see it's Havoc. He's got his other arm draped around Ed's shoulders as well. "Good luck trying to get him to behave. Sometimes I think he's worse than when he was a teenager."

"Hey!"

"How do you put up with him day after day?" Al says through a laugh.

Havoc waves a hand. "Oh, that's easy. Mustang has him out of the city on military missions most of the time. Did you know he's somehow gotten this big reputation as a diplomat?"

"Brother?" Havoc nods sagely in response.

"What...how...ARGH!" Ed stomps off through the doorway and down the hall with his ponytail swishing against his back. Al exchanges a beaming smile with Havoc.

"He hasn't changed at all, has he?"

"In some ways, Alphonse." Mustang stops in front of them to tug on a pair of white gloves. "Havoc, why don't you go ensure that Edward doesn't cause an international incident before the first course has even been served. I doubt Emperor Ling would appreciate it if I remember his appetite correctly."

"Yes, sir." He winks at Al before he disappears down the hall after Ed.

"Walk with me, Alphonse."

"Of course." They fall easily into step as they head toward the formal dining hall, Hawkeye as always at Mustang's side. "How is Brother really?"

"He's doing well. I like to think he enjoys what I have him doing despite his protests." Mustang smiles slightly and from what Al's heard from Winry and what he's seen so far he thinks he agrees.

"Diplomat?" He can't quite believe it. There's a lot of things his brother does well, but being cautious and able to hold his tongue aren't among them.

"Havoc may have exaggerated slightly." Though Al can see Mustang's hiding a laugh. He knows that expression from the years he spent observing people while they were more focused on Ed.

"But not completely?" They round a corner and he can hear the low murmur of a crowd of people echoing up the hallway.

Mustang inclines his head. "No, not completely. Edward has actually managed to conduct himself rather well in delicate situations. He expresses his displeasure with them, loudly, when he briefs me."

"It wouldn't be Brother otherwise." He grins at Mustang who lets himself smile back for once.

"Yes, indeed." They've reached the closed wooden doors of the dining hall and Mustang nods at the guards on either side. He smoothes a hand down his chest, which prompts Al to do the same. He can't mess this up either. "You look well, Alphonse."

He looks at Mustang with surprise. Wasn't Ed passing along the information he was sending in his letters? "Uh, thank you, sir."

"Edward talks about you often. He's immensely pleased with what you've done with your life."

Al ducks his head slightly as he feels a blush heat his cheeks. "Brother tends to worry too much. I'm proud of what he's done too."

"I'm glad you are. He's a vital part of my work." There's a wealth of meaning to Mustang's words but what Al gets most is relief.

"You're a good man, Fuhrer. Don't let yourself forget that."

For once, it looks like he's startled the normally unflappable Roy Mustang. "Thank you, Alphonse. Now shall we?" He gestures toward the doors and the guards move to open them.

It's going to be an interesting evening that's for sure. Al can't help the beaming smile that spreads across his face.

FIC: High Stakes (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-06-20T19:01:10Z

Title: High Stakes
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: AU Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Roy Mustang, King Bradley
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 756
Completed: May 30, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 221 - Test
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: I seem to have Roy on the brain because here's another piece from his POV.

Summary: All the cards are being laid on the table.

It's a test. There's no doubt about it. His team scattered to the wind, Ed held hostage, and Roy sitting here having a meeting with Bradley himself. His fists clench against his thighs as he watches Bradley sip at his tea. He sets the cup down with a soft clink and folds his hands on top of the table in front of him. "As you can see, you left me no choice, Mustang. Sticking your nose into places where it doesn't belong forced us to act."

"You expected me to sit by and do nothing? This military and this country have been built on enough bloodshed." Roy's back is ramrod straight and he glares across the distance separating him from Bradley with open malice. He's had everything taken away from him. He has nothing to lose by arguing the facts with the man.

"I'd be careful if I were you. I have all the cards." The man has the gall to smile benignly at him like this was nothing more than a friendly conversation about a card game or something equally pointless. Roy flexes his hands.

"You won't kill me. You have plans for me."

"Yes, actually, we do, but now that doesn't mean your subordinates factor into that plan. It would do you well to take that into consideration."

Ed would spit in the man's face more, hellfire and brimstone personified if Roy ever saw it. Hawkeye would remind him that their battle has only begun and not to lose sight of the ultimate goal. He's not sure what side Breda would fall on, but he's certain whatever he proposed would meld the two paths seamlessly.

Roy drags a hand through his hair in frustration. He can't stop it from trembling and it gives too much away. "And what do you plan to do with me?"

"Oh, nothing. Not yet." The man smiles again and wraps his hands around his teacup to raise it to his lips. "We'll just be keeping a closer eye on you." He takes a sip then says, "Isn't it about time you were due a promotion?"

"None that I was aware of...." He can't see the game Bradley's playing. He only has some of the pieces and the ones he doesn't have are critical to understanding what's going on.

"Well, let me be the first to offer my congratulations then." Bradley rises and moves around the table to offer his hand. Roy reluctantly shakes it, maintaining contact long enough to be respectful but no more. "You've been transferred to Central Gate Command starting at the beginning of the week. Your new office will be on the third floor."

Bradley's gaze doesn't leave him and Roy fights every impulse to shift in his seat. He wonders if this is how Ed felt on the other side of his desk. Once he figures out where he's being held and how to break him out, Roy will ask him himself.

"Do try to look happier about the news. You've been given a great honor."

"Only under a pretext and heavily against my wishes."

"Yes, well, that couldn't be helped now, could it?" Bradley moves to stand by the window and crosses his hands behind his back in perfect imitation of parade rest. "I would caution you to behave but there seems little point in that. We both know you will."

The sun coasts across Bradley's face to light the room and spill onto the floor. Roy hates the sight. There is nothing bright about this day, this room, or the man standing bathed in the sunlight. It's a lie. Much like the nation of Amestris. Just what has he stumbled upon? Whatever it is, he'll put an end to it with the help of his subordinates.

The silence drags out. Roy has little say in the matter. His position as subordinate leaves him no recourse but to sit and wait for his dismissal. He's been effectively isolated with no allies left to him. He may be down but he won't give up the fight. He's lost too much to let it end now.

He trusts his team to take care of themselves. He picked them for a reason and he has full faith in them. This will not be the end of Roy Mustang.

"You're dismissed, Mustang." Roy rises to his feet and snaps a perfect salute before he turns on his heel and walks from the room, the picture of military decorum.

This is only the beginning. He is far from defeated.

FIC: Honor the Fallen (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-06-02T07:34:08Z

Title: Honor the Fallen
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Brotherhood/Manga
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Roy Mustang
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 295
Completed: May 23, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 220 - Type
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: And yet another one from Roy’s POV.

Summary: He honors them as best he can.

The type on the form is too familiar. He's had to sign off on too many of these since he took office and it's the last thing he deals with in his day. He blocks out several hours to personally complete the forms that consign a soldier who died defending the country of Amestris to nothing more than a dusty file folder packed away.

Too many soldiers have died for him. Too many have died already for this country. The whole point of his life, of losing Hughes, was to ensure no one else died for nothing. Roy's not sure if he'll ever get to that point. He makes the hard decisions and always has. The decisions no one else wants to make.

It's a heavy burden to bear. But it is his burden. He won't do the men he commands the disservice of pushing it off onto some lackey. Their families deserve his personal attention. The loss in their lives deserves a personal touch. He is the figurehead of this country, his whole life has been about this country, and he will do nothing less than honor the men that died for this country as best he can.

Amestris is a greedy country. Drinking the lifeblood of her people like it's nothing, like they mean nothing. It is his goal to change that and make Amestris something that gives more than it takes. That is what a true nation is and he will do his best to make that happen.

He signs the last line with his name and places it within the folder. He rests his hand over it and pats it once before he sets it on the pile with the others. "Thank you for all you've done. You won't be forgotten."

FIC: A Night Out on the Town (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-05-21T06:02:50Z

Title: A Night Out on the Town
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: AU
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Roy Mustang, Madame Christmas
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 249
Completed: May 16, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 219 - Theatrical
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: Yet another one from Roy’s POV. Also, Batman/Ironman AU because it’s summer blockbuster time.

Summary: Roy is rather looking forward to his evening out for many reasons.

AO3 |

It's rather cliche, Roy has to admit, a first date at a movie theater because between the two of them they could throw their own private showing. The comfort of their own homes should be more alluring than the indulgent veneer of normalcy they're attempting. But then he couldn't say no despite himself.

The wealth of Elric Industries and Mustang Enterprises makes any public outing of theirs newsworthy and maybe it's why he agreed to this in the first place. He never could resist a challenge and since they're going incognito this should be an adventure. Roy adds one final touch of theatrical makeup to complete his look and the image gazing back at him from the mirror is no Roy Mustang. If anything, it's the image of a man a few years older and far removed from the high society reaches of Central City.

Pleased he steps back and makes his way down into the garage where a serviceable black sedan awaits him. Madame has the keys and his wallet waiting for him on a table. She eyes him critically and nods. "Take care, Roy-boy. It wouldn't do to lose your cover because of Mr. Elric."

"You know me, always careful." That earns him a fond eye roll and a puff of smoke blown in his face.

"I won't wait up. Don't let me wake up to any headlines."

He grins as he says to Madame's retreating footsteps. "Of course not. I'll be on my best behavior."

FIC: Error: Miscommunication Level High (G) - Fullmetal Alchemist

2013-05-15T15:42:17Z

Title: Error: Miscommunication Level High
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Timeline: Post Manga/Brotherhood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Roy Mustang/Edward Elric
Rating: G
Content Notes: N/A
Word Count: 739
Completed: May 9, 2013
Challenge: fma_fic_contest
Prompt: 218 - That’s What SHE Said
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed within are not mine. This is merely a loving response to the original work.
Beta: Thanks to catw00man. All other errors are mine.
Author’s Notes: I seem to be writing in Roy POV a lot recently. This was a sweet little fic.

Summary: Roy gets some bad advice and what should've been a relaxing several days turns into several busy ones.

AO3 |

That's the last time he decides to listen to someone that isn't Ed when it comes to where to spend their vacations. They've been here at the Conference of Alchemic Advancement for the past two days and have had barely two seconds to themselves. It's not that it's boring per say. It's more that every spare moment of their time has been taken up by someone wanting their attention. It varied from the esteemed delegate from Xing sent personally by Emperor Ling or the promising alchemy student who just wanted them to talk over some of the more recent theories she was having trouble grasping. It just never ended.

By the time they get back to their room at night, they've both been too exhausted to do much more than order a quick meal, shower, and fall into bed. It was his fault for deciding to listen to Ms. Winry Rockbell when she suggested that he take Ed to something he would enjoy instead of making him sit around fidgeting. Pinako Rockbell's suggestion had been to do whatever the hell he wanted and that sometimes Ed needed to be shown that he needed something.

Roy's actually the first one back to the room tonight and he's been glancing at the clock every two minutes. He's early for once and he's hoping Ed will be too. The conference is winding down and everyone that's wanted a piece of the both of them has to have had said piece by now.

He rubs his temples and hopes fervently that's the case. He just wants a relaxing night in with Ed and some of their favorite wine. Is that really all that much to ask?

The door whumps open and Roy lifts his head half heartedly to peer at the entranceway. "Edward?"

There's a muttered something he can't make out followed by a "Yeah, you're actually here before me?" Ed comes into view with his black coat already off his shoulders and his hair slipping free from its ties.

"It appears so." Roy pushes himself to a sitting position with his back against the headboard. "Done for the evening?"

"Yes, thank fuck." Ed tosses the coat haphazardly over the back of the nearest chair before he toes off his shoes and flops onto the bottom of the bed.

Roy smiles and nudges him with a foot. Ed flails an arm to swat him and misses badly. The sight warms him from the inside. This is them and the lack of it over the past several days has made him miss it. "Comfortable?"

"Very, so stop trying to make me move, bastard." He merely stretches his legs out beside Ed and watches the even rise and fall of his back until Ed finally levers himself onto his side to face him. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but whose bright idea was it for our vacation to be here?"

"I believe it was Ms. Rockbell's." At the disbelieving look Ed gives him, Roy simply shrugs. "She may have mentioned something about your inability to sit still if the subject material wasn't of personal interest."

"You listened to Winry and dragged me off to an alchemy conference for our vacation?" Ed's shoulders shake as he pulls his hair free of its tie and shakes it loose.

Roy's not sure what to make of it at first. Is Ed crying? Has he lost his mind? "Edward?"

Sure, deft hands reach out and start massaging the soles of his feet. "Roy, it's been a fascinating couple of days, but next time, don't listen to Winry." Ed looks up at him and arches an eyebrow. "I don't think either of us have ever been this busy at one of these things when we actually had to present."

Roy's eyes are half closed because the feel of Ed's hands on him has him relaxing and nearly asleep faster than anything else ever would. "Hmm?"

"Yeah, yeah, be asleep already. Bastard." But there's so much fondness in the term Roy merely slides down until he's situated more comfortably. "What were your original plans?"

"Cabin in the woods...by a lake...out west...," he murmurs sleepily. The warm hands on his feet pause for a moment then start again.

"How about we do that next time, huh?" Roy makes a soft sound of agreement and the last thing he hears before he dozes off is "Sleep well, Roy."