The Binary Alchemist (binaryalchemist) wrote in fm_alchemist,
The Binary Alchemist

Fic: You + Me Of The 10,000 Wars, Ch.2: "Edward Elric, Prom Queen of Cell Block 6"

Fic:You + Me of the 10,000 Wars: Ch 2: “Edward Elric: Prom Queen of Cell Block 6
Author: [info]binaryalchemist

Rated: PG13—NC17, this chapter rated R  UPDATED at L-O-N-G Last!
Pairings: Roy/Ed, onesided  Greed!Ling/Ed, past Ed/Hei, past Roy/Hughes
Genre: Romance, adventure, comedy, a touch of crack, a little angst, a whole lotta smexin’
Warnings: FMA AU—Ed and Al have inherited Hohenheim’s near-agelessness, and Ed has been reunited with Roy in the present day.
      Greed has only one obsession: Immortality.Ed, Al and Al’s children are cursed with it, thanks to Hohenheim’s legacy and DNA. It’s getting harder to keep under the media radar, thanks to Ed’s big mouth. Meanwhile, Roy’s dreams are becoming hellish with echoes of a half-remembered war.The Elrics have the immortality Greed desires—and Greed can open the Gate and send the them home Amestris for a fresh start in their homeland, where Roy can find answers at last—but not without a heavy price. How much is Ed willing to sacrifice for the man—and the family--he loves?
As Our Story Continues: Ed tries to fast talk his way out of becoming the Prom Queen of a Singapore cell block after wining…heart…of his fellow inmates, while Hughes muses on how exactly the hell he got involved with Ed, Roy, and their insane family must have been the sake.
            Or the sex
            Shortly after regaining consciousness, Edward Elric amended his list of Things One Must Avoid At All Costs:
                 Never try to bring back a dead person
                  Never sell your soul to the military
                  Never attempt human transmutation
                 Never feed Roy Tex-Mex food without a stiff dose of Beano
            “…and if you can’t think of something nice to say to a seven foot tall gorilla convicted for performing carnal acts with chickens, you just might want to keep your goddamn mouth shut…”

Type your cut contents here



            “Remove all jewelry, watches and metal objects, please!”

            Okay…that had been problematic. So was the strip search.

            And regardless what hot obscenities he’d been whispering in Roy’s ear, the body cavity inspection left a lot to be desired.

            Since they couldn’t figure out how to remove his prosthetics, they simply cuffed him at the wrists and ankles. “You’d better hope I don’t have to wipe my ass,” Ed growled.

            “Maybe one of your new friends will help you,” the Lieutenant told him soberly before frog-marching Ed into a public cell. A shove, and he tumbled on his rump at the feet of a score of the most…dentistry-challenged…ruffians he’d seen this side of The Devil’s Nest.

            One green-toothed Prince Charming leaned in for a closer look, picking at an oozing pustule on his chin. “You got a pretty mouth,”

            You don’t.”

            Shortly after regaining consciousness, Edward Elric amended his list of Things One Must Avoid At All Costs:

                 Never try to bring back a dead person

                  Never sell your soul to the military

                  Never attempt human transmutation

                  Never feed Roy Tex-Mex food without a stiff dose of Beano

            “…and if you can’t think of something nice to say to a seven foot tall gorilla convicted for performing carnal acts with chickens, you just might want to keep your goddamn mouth shut…”


            “….so it was your husband you were trying to pick up? Oi, an’ I bet yer man didn’t bloody know wank-all about bleedin’ Geylang, right?”

            If Ed had any idea how his angry flush made his companion’s crotch turn from putty to iron, he’d have hidden his face. “He did. It was my idea. I’m…I just wanted to…y’know…see if I could keep him interested now…”

            The odiferous Aussie hooted with laughter. “—now he’s yer old ball-and-chain Charlie, right? But you’re bonzer. Any bloke would wanna have a go. How tight’s yer ringpiece, Eddie? Reckon you could give me ol’ feller a proper hug-me-tight?”

            Thinking fast—hopefully fast enough—Ed shook his head. “Sorry. He’s stretched me out so far I could use my ass as a beer coozy. Thanks anyway, Cobber.” As IF, you smirking son of a bitch—and when the hell are you going to bail me out of this Tupperware party??

            “So….Cobber….what are you in for?”  

            His cellmate’s grin made his sphincter tighten in self defense.

            “Six strokes if I’m lucky.”

            His comrades nodded reverently. “No shit, the guy’s an artist.”

            “Best goddamned cane in the whole Far East.”

            “I’d fuck a frozen chicken right in the veggie aisle of the Bedok Super-H Mart---“

            “—Cobber, you did fuck a frozen chicken in the veggie aisle of the Bedok Super H Mart…”

            “Just for a touch, sweet Eddie. Just a lick o’ that cane. Lemme tell you, they strip you down…”


            “—an then they pad yer kidneys—just for safety, right? An’ they bend you double over this frame and lash your wrists…”

            “—if it’s all the same to you, I think I can do without the charts and graphs…”

            “So your bum’s up in the air, sweet as candy…and he comes in, an’ he’s already breathin’ hard…and you’re Johnnie’s so hard you could drive nails with it…”

            “---can I get a Verizon signal this far underground? Uh…guard? Ah….I think I need to see if my husband’s made bail yet---“

            “Oh—and Eddie, this is the best part---he makes these kinda…gruntin’ noises…like he’s having it off each time that bamboo makes a cut on your bum cheeks…”






            “Mays? Honey?”  A gentle hand shook his shoulder. “It’s the Bat Phone.”

            Mayland Alexander Hughes bolted upright out of a sound sleep. “Oh fuck, what now??”

            “It’s Ed. He says he’s only allowed one phone call—“

            One phone call. That could only mean---“ED! Whatever you do, don’t confess to anything. And stay out of the showers. I’m coming to get you. How much is your bail this time?”

            “Bail my ass!” Ed bellowed from the other side of the world. “They’re talking about the number of strokes.” Silence. “Hughes! Are you there?”

            Silence. “Edward,” he finally sighed, “what the hell are you doing in Singapore?”


            “Damn. Damn him. Double goddamn him. ‘What the hell are you doing in Singapore?’, I ask. The little bastard  tells me, ‘The standard response is don’t ask, don’t tell’. “ He was so furious that he waved away the mini bottle of exclusive Maker’s Mark whiskey offered by the lovely air hostess. Pissed as he was, he’d have a hard time appreciating even Old Crow at the moment. And then, to put the cherry on the top of the shit pile, I’ll bet Roy’s going through all sorts of hell trying to get Ed out…goddamn it, what the hell did he do ?”

            He jabbed at the Skyphone. The roaming charges were going to cost him a fortune. Correction: they were going to cost Ed a fortune. Fuck if he was going to pay.

            “Hello, Al---ahhh shit! Voicemail!” That’s right—Al was probably en route from Munich. He’d made one of those mysterious trips up to visit The Big Kahuna, as Teddy called it—as close to hallowed grounds for the Elrics on this side as there could be—the site of the Thule Society’s terrible attempt to open the way to ‘Shamballa”. The ruins now belonged to the Elric foundation, ruins soaked in the blood of Hohenheim…and Alfons Heiderich.

            How the hell had he gotten into this mess, anyway?

            Three motherfucking cups of sake. Three cups. Three cups, three sips each…and now I couldn’t walk away from this freak show if I tried…


            A week after enrolling in The University of California at Berkeley he met a pretty brown haired girl playing a Pink Floyd song on a 12 string guitar out on the commons just before dinner. He chimed in. She smiled at him. They harmonized.

            They shared bad cafeteria food, a bottle of Boone’s Farm apple wine, hours of fantastic conversation and seriously smoldering sex, in that order. Before the month was out, they’d moved in with another classmate into the upstairs of an old Victorian house owned by a drag queen named Garfiel, who ran a Merle Norman cosmetic  shop. In exchange for painting, fixing-upping and occasional help behind the counter, they got a cut in rent, and the free services of an in-house Dear Abby-cum-Auntie with a heart of gold and a bigger collection of slingbacks and high heels than Teddy would own in the whole of her life.

            On October 3rd, they hauled a bruised and bleeding freshman named Mustang out of an alley where he was being pummeled senseless and about to be sodomized with the business end of an old wine bottle, courtesy of some of the more spirited upper-class frat boys—the kind that would grow up to be stock brokers, inside traders and oxycontin eaters. While the school infirmary staff taped up his cracked ribs and Mays gave a surprisingly articulate statement to the campus cops—including Teddy’s camera and the damning photo’s she’s snapped of the assault---Teddy had rung up Garfiel, and the old sweetie had suggested they bring Mustang home. Their previous roomie had been busted for drunk driving and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to give a home “to another poor faggot like me, mercy sakes!”.

            First, Roy became his friend.

            Then, Roy became his lover. Teddy was not adverse to it—in fact, she was downright turned on and joined them in endless romps and entanglements. Mustang’s mother, Hikari, had voiced concerns that before her only son fully embraced the homosexual lifestyle he should at least find out what he might be missing.  Mustang and Teddy came to ….an agreement.  And while it was certainly fun and educational—it was brief. It ended with mutual affection, a deepening of trust—and a letter to Mama-San from Teddy assuring her that her son was absolutely certain of his sexual orientation.

            And in the spring…Teddy set Taisa Roy Mustang up with her much-loved uncle and mentor—a small, richly profane little man named Edward Elric. Mama-San Hikari had hoped for an Elric bride for her son. Instead, she got the Tin Man. Thankfully, she learned to love him like a son and informed her son that if he and Edward ever chose to celebrate the san-san-kudo---the Shinto rite of binding and adoption---she would be most pleased.

            Ed was an atheist. Mustang respected his mother’s faith, but did not believe either. “Besides, if Ed and I are going to have a ceremony, we might as well hold out for legal marriage.”

            However, Hikari countered with another offer. A san-san-kudo between herself and Edward, so that the gods would know she loved him and regarded him as her son.

            Surprisingly, Ed agreed. And to Mays’ surprise, she suggested that he, Taisa and Teddy also perform the rite. “My Taisa may be an only child—but you and Teddy-chan have proven he was not born without siblings.”

            So right after graduation, they flew to spend a month in London at the home of Taisa’s Uncle Simon, the youngest brother of Taisa’s natural father, an ex RAF bush pilot named William “Roy” Rogers, aka, “Colonel Mustang”, in honor of the ancient Mustang P-38 that eventually lit up the Eastern skies with a fireball you could see halfway to Tokyo. Hikari and Uncle Simon—who reminded him of that Captain Picard guy once he started watching  Next Gen—greeted them warmly and the simple ceremony was held in the garden of a nearby Shinto Temple. Teddy wore a stunning kimono. Taisa wore his formal hakima and black kimono with the five Mon crests he had been forbidden to wear in Japan, where his grandfather had disowned Hikari. Hughes? Wore his best high top sneakers and a clean Queen t-shirt.

Simple, really. Three sips each from three cups of sake, shared between three best friends, binding them as family before the gods Mays didn’t believe in…

And yet….ever since…he’d been an adopted Elric too. It was more than just a job for which he was paid a ridiculously generous salary. He had Gracia. He had Elycia. He had newborn Teddy-Grace, born just days before Teddy had Izumi Jean.

And, goddamnit..he had Edward in the bargain. For better or worse…



            Cursing and waving away the air hostess, he punched another number. “Hello, Roy? Goddamn it!” Voicemail again. He left a curt message, then thumbed another number.


            “Teddy! Shit! Do you know how hard it is to hunt someone down in this goddamned family? Listen—“

            ’Allo? Mays! Mon frere! It’s good to hear from you! Teddy---“
            Shit. She’d handed the phone to The Cajun. Jean Havoc, perpetual loser and all around decent son of a bitch who couldn’t for the life of him score a date with a good-hearted woman in Amestris, had hit the mother-fuckin’ jackpot after being born on earth as a Louisiana Cajun and son of a wild-assed Cajun faith healer that talked to spiders and could curse the balls off a Brahma bull, winding up with the daughter of Alphonse freakin’ Elric. Not only that, Tricia—Teddy to all who loved her and Ms. Elric to all who needed a righteous ass kicking—was none other Mama Tricia of Amestris, returned to be close to her sons. After that hideous mind-fuck of an encounter with Envy a few months ago , they’d entrusted their daughter to Grandmere Jeanne-Marie—currently serving pain perdu, café au lait and voudoun incantations out of her café in Charleston—while he and Teddy took time to heal and regroup…and hump like bunnies…in the murky depths of Bayou Cocodrie, where the mosquitos had been known to carry off small livestock and Teddy had taken to toting around a Louisville Slugger bat since her shoe wasn’t sufficient to squash the Buick-sized cockroaches that occasionally crawled up the tub drain.

            “Havoc! Listen, I can’t find Al. Can’t get Mustang. Need to talk to Teddy—pronto.”

            There was a pause. “Anybody dead?”

            “Er, no, but—“

            “Anybody dyin’?”

            “What? No! But you gotta—“

            “Anybody in jail?”

            Mays was getting pissed now. “Yeah, goddamn it! Ed has---“

            There was a low chuckle. “Oncle Edouard in trouble again, non?”

            Oui---and I need to tell---“

            “—I’ll find Papa Alphonse. You—where are you anyway?”

            “About 40,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean with a suitcase full of unmarked bills, fake passports and a carry permit.”

            “Then you’ve got everything in good hands, mon ami. Soon as Teddy’s free, she call you.”

            HER GODDAMN UNCLE IS IN JAIL,” Mays hissed into the Skyphone. “”What the fuck is she doing that so friggin’ important that she can’t talk to me right now?

            From the other end of the phone came the roar of a generous fistful of buckshot blasting through the tin roof of a backwater juke joint. “Havoc? Havoc? REMY??!!?? What the hell is going on??”

            The phone crackled and there was a low, familiar chuckle that sounded eerily like that of Alphonse Elric, cast in a softer key. “Hughes? Call you back. I’m over at Le Mon Cul Rouge, giving some of these rather…rough-hewn gentlemen….a few lessons in the pleasures of Asian Fusion cuisine.”


            The cell phone crackled again. “She’s force feedin’ the Gautreaux brothers rattlesnake sushi—with the business end of a shotgun to encourage them not to dip it rice side down into the shoyu. Call you later, mon frere—au revoir!”


            “Sir,” the hostess whispered softly, “You’re going to have to pay for that.”

            Mays glared down at the dangling cords in his lap. He’d ripped the Skyphone right out of the seat connector thingamajig. “Fine,” he sighed, remembering not to take out his wrath on the innocent. “Might as well add a Scotch on the rocks to the tab as well…it’s still thirteen hours to Singapore…”  



PROLOGUE: "If You Meet The Alchemist On The Road, Kill Him!" is here:

CHAPTER 1: "Fullmetal Rent Boy--Messenger Of The Gods?" is here:


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