"Performance" (Gen, Rated PG-13)
Aug. 12th, 2005 02:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skellywagTitle: "Performance"
Author: Moi
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Well, it's technically gen, but I suppose you could see some pre-Ed/Roy and pre-Al/Winry, if you squint.
Rating: PG-13 for language
A/N: Well, this is pure, unadulterated crackfic. Basically spawned of the desire to see the characters actually sing the songs from their respective songfiles. (Except Winry and Hughes, as I haven't heard their solo songfiles.) So yeah. I incorporated all of the songs from Ed's, Al's, and Roy's songfiles except for the one from Ed's that I don't really like that much. This is not a songfic. (I would not sink that low.) There are no mentions of lyrics in the fic, though if you look closely, you can figure out which ones I'm referring to most of the time. Twenty-five points and a drabble of your choice to whoever can guess the order that I put them in. Enjoy! (And kudos to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anil_galia for helping inspire me to write this. XD)
They’d always known that the Fuhrer had a twisted sense of humour, but this really was too much. Edward Elric watched the building of the large platform with a sense of impending doom. Al, who was standing beside him, seemed downright chipper by comparison, which was a rather impressive feat for a suit of armour.
“Do you think the Fuhrer would let me do two, Niisan?” the younger boy asked, his excitement clear from his tone, though he didn’t have facial expression. He was so transfixed on the construction of the platform that it took him a few moments to even realize that Ed had started walking away, apparently disgusted by his brother’s question.
“Yeah, I’m sure he will,” came the reply when Al managed to catch up. “Hell, you know what? You can have my slot,” he offered, trying to make his tone as magnanimous-sounding as possible.
Al’s tone immediately became stern and chiding. “The Fuhrer said that everyone in Colonel Mustang’s command has to participate. You can’t get out of it.”
The older boy’s countenance darkened as he headed into Eastern HQ. “Don’t know why I should be punished…bastard Colonel…all his fault,” came a series of soft mutters under his breath. There was a distinct shift, and his muttered words seemed to focus on his brother. “Don’t understand why you want to do this anyway…must be insane. You don’t even have to!”
The younger boy giggled quietly. “Oh, Niisan. You’re overreacting. I bet it’s going to be fun!” He received a withering look and quickly amended himself. “At least the Colonel has to do it, too…” he offered instead.
That perked Ed right up, and the expression that formed on his face was not at all friendly, though his lips could be loosely described as a smile. “That’s right!” he murmured with satisfaction. “The bastard has to make an ass of himself, too. Maybe this will be worth it after all…”
Al looked far more nervous than a suit of armour had any right to. As excited as he had been, he knew that if his brother was actually looking forward to this, it didn’t bode well at all. Things would most certainly end in disaster.
~~~***~~~
All work in Colonel Mustang’s office in Eastern HQ had slowed to a crawl that week in anticipation of the event that would take place early Friday afternoon. Ed and Alphonse had had to go in for various reasons throughout the week, and it was no longer a strange sight to see Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fury hunched around a desk, arguing.
It seemed that the other offices were curious about the proceedings as well, because more than once he’d caught other office’s personnel trying to peek into the outer office. The most recent, one of General Hakuro’s lackeys, he’d sent scurrying with a furious scowl. “You’ll see soon enough.” He honestly couldn’t understand why the General was even there; probably wanted to see Mustang squirm. As much as Ed agreed, he was a little selfish with it, wanting to have that pleasure as much to himself as he could.
However, as much as he had been anticipating such a thing, Ed had grown surlier again. From what he had seen so far of Mustang, the man was not fazed at all by the situation in which he’d been placed. He’d tried his best to keep the man from figuring out just how anxious he was, but he got the distinct feeling that the Colonel was laughing at him.
Al had given up on trying to tiptoe around his brother long before Friday, realizing it was nearly impossible to avoid the older boy’s wrath. They had taken to having conversations through shouting matches across the military dorm they shared. The neighbours had given up on complaining.
“You really ought to wear something different for this, Niisan!” Al shouted into the small kitchen as he looked over his notes. “You’re going to be up in front of all those people!”
“I refuse to dress up!” Ed shouted back as he made himself a sandwich. “It would imply I want to do this, and I don’t! These people know what I look like, and I don’t care if I impress them or not!” He sauntered into the living room, picking pieces of crust from his bread and eating them.
Al was never so glad to have an unreadable face. “I would dress up for it, if I could,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes carefully averted from his brother. He knew it was a low blow, but the situation was settled, and Ed and Al went shopping.
~~~***~~~
The only other military event that had received such a massive turnout had been Ed’s state alchemist evaluation in which he’d fought Colonel Mustang. This one was a very close second, however, and while Ed had not been nervous at all the last time he’d been on display, this time, he felt as though his insides were a mass of writhing snakes. He was an alchemist, goddamnit! Not a singer!
He glanced down at the lineup he’d been handed and scowled, cursing the Fuhrer under his breath. He would have had a fit if he’d been placed first or last, and thankfully he’d been put third, but he’d been hoping this would all end up being just a joke, and that he wouldn’t be on the lineup at all.
The boy frowned down at the sheet of paper again, realizing there was nothing on it to tell him who was going when; it was simply a list of song titles. He thought he recognized one of his brother’s songs, but he hadn’t paid attention to what the younger boy had planned, so he couldn’t be sure. He groaned quietly to himself; this meant he was probably going to have to stay for the entire thing. He didn’t want to miss an opportunity for Mustang to make an ass of himself.
He sighed as he took a seat in the section of the audience that had been denoted for performers, to the side of the stage. His sense of foreboding was stronger than ever when he noticed that Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fury were all in uniform. “Aren’t you guys dressing up for this?” he hissed quietly, tugging at the collar of his shirt nervously, cursing Al for making him wear such ridiculous clothes.
Havoc grinned and shook his head. “No, Boss. This is our costume for our performance. You look good, though,” he added, his tone simultaneously sincere and apologetic.
Ed scowled, crossing his arms over his chest protectively and focusing on the stage as his brother ascended and stepped towards the microphone. Was it really so obvious how uncomfortable he was? He didn’t want any sympathy from a man who at least got to be comfortable in his own clothes while he made a fool of himself.
However, any thoughts of self-pity were driven from Ed’s mind as the music for his brother’s number started, his eyes riveted on the stage. The notes were soft and delicate as the piece opened, and Al’s voice was almost painfully hesitant as he began to sing. Ed swore that anyone who so much as made a sound during his brother’s song was going to find automail in unmentionable places.
That wasn’t going to be a problem. As the song went on, Al’s voice became more and more confident, bringing out the soulful nature of the melody effectively. He gazed out over the audience and saw every pair of eyes locked on him. His smile was evident in his voice, though his helm remained emotionless.
When the song was over, there was a pause of complete silence before the audience erupted into applause, a few enthusiastic wolf-whistles rending the air from Havoc and Breda. Al bowed repeatedly, his demeanour incredibly bashful, before clanking off the stage.
Once everyone had settled again, the next performer ascended to the stage and Ed’s jaw nearly dropped. Roy Mustang was wearing a suit of charcoal grey, a white shirt beneath that provided a startling contrast, and a matching fedora. He smirked at the audience as the music started, and even despite the volume of it, Ed heard a chorus of sighs from the women in attendance, many of whom, the blonde knew, hand snuck in just for a peek at the Colonel.
It was an upbeat song and Mustang sang it well. Ed had to grudgingly admit, better than well. The man’s confidence was stunning, and the blonde knew it had been foolish to wish him to be anything but. Roy Mustang had been made to show off, and he did so with relish. His deep, resonant tone was slightly flirtatious, as was his entire stage presence.
Mustang was greeted with applause more raucous than that which Al had been, and Ed’s insides performed a little flip, wrenching painfully. It was a cruel twist of fate that he had to follow an act like that; he was convinced. He nearly choked in surprise when Havoc clapped him on the back when he rose. “Break a leg,” the man murmured encouragingly.
“I’ve only got one to break,” Ed responded wryly, careful not to even glance at Mustang as he made his way onto the stage. His heart felt as though it were in his throat. He was certain he would croak when he opened his mouth, he was so nervous.
The boy stepped up behind the microphone, tugging at the collar of the white button-up shirt Al had forced him to buy, only vaguely relieved that his brother had allowed him to wear his usual pants and boots to finish the outfit. He was flushing slightly as he stood there until he heard a loud, shrill whistle, obviously meant to be encouraging, but it only made his face darken further. No one was booing him off the stage yet, however, and that, at least, was reassuring as the music began.
He found himself beginning to sing more instinctively than anything; part of Ed had been afraid he’d miss his entrance. In spite of this, his voice was extremely soft as he started, as if he were hoping no one would hear him if he were quiet enough.
Ed’s eyes darted out across the audience and found quite a few familiar faces, all of them smiling. It easily bolstered his confidence, helping him relax, and he was soon belting the long notes, his voice strong and well-supported. His gaze found Mustang’s in the fray, and his eyes narrowed at the smirk he was being given. Almost in defiance of that look, Ed jutted out his hip to the side slightly, beginning to inject an almost sultry element into his tone.
The expression that formed on the Colonel’s face then was somewhere between shocked, amused, and something inherently indecent. Ed nearly choked, but luckily he was at the end of the song anyway, and he didn’t have to maintain his composure long.
His cheeks were red again, though it had little to do with his singing. After all, as the audience roared their approval, it was obvious he had done well. He swore as he stepped from the stage, carefully avoiding the Colonel’s eyes again, that he was going to get his revenge, ignoring the fact that Mustang had yet to do something wrong that he could actually accuse the man of.
Al was up again, so he gave Havoc only a brief grin of appreciation as the man clapped him on the back, a quick word of congratulations murmured into his ear. He slouched down in his chair as he noticed those around him trying to get a look at him, pointedly focusing his gaze on his brother, who had just stepped up behind the microphone.
The younger boy, as if encouraged by his brother’s performance, started out with far more self-assurance than he had had last time, no signs of hesitance in his voice. More than that, Alphonse had attitude as he sang, his tone easily making the shift from strong, belted out long notes to quieter, more intense sections that the boy somehow made sound nearly seductive.
Ed’s jaw positively dropped, and he couldn’t even think enough to clap when his brother had finished. He just couldn’t believe it. His younger brother simply didn’t have any right to sound like that, and he found himself speechless until several seconds after Al took the seat beside him.
“That was really good,” Ed murmured, still vaguely in shock. “Have you always been able to sing like that?” He turned to gaze directly at his brother when it became clear that they were having an intermission.
Al shifted, and Ed could almost hear him blushing. He was quick to change the subject, however. “Niisan! You won’t believe what I heard! Colonel Mustang is performing in two of the last three numbers!”
This was such news that Ed didn’t even focus on the fact that his brother wouldn’t meet his eyes. “That arrogant bastard! Thinks he’s so great!” he gritted furiously. “As if it wasn’t enough that he sounded amazing in the first one. Now he’s gotta make sure that everyone drools over him?” He would have continued on his rant, except that Al had cleared his throat, gesturing his head to Ed’s side, his eyes locked on a point over Ed’s shoulder.
The older boy found himself flushing slightly even before he turned to confirm his fears. “Colonel,” he muttered, thoroughly embarrassed and hoping the man hadn’t heard what he’d said. That was really too much to wish for…
“So you enjoyed my performance, Fullmetal?” Mustang remarked teasingly. “I’m glad to hear that. Yours was rather enjoyable as well…” And then the man was walking away, presumably to prepare for his next song, or sign autographs or something.
Ed was about to boil over. Al couldn’t have planned it better himself. “Are you going to let him get away with that, Niisan?” he asked. The older boy seemed so furious that he didn’t notice the fact that his brother wouldn’t meet his eyes, nor that he seemed to be fidgeting an awful lot for a suit of armour. This was a good thing, and Al pressed his advantage. “You should perform another song and show him up once and for all!”
Now, Al had never really had anything against the Colonel, and he didn’t really care who sounded better, but he knew his brother and just what buttons to push to motivate the older boy. He’d already tried several times to get Ed to agree to perform a second song, but his brother had been extremely stubborn. This time he knew he would be successful.
“How can I?” Ed murmured thoughtfully, and Al inwardly cheered.
“You could perform my third song with me,” the younger boy offered, his tone carefully nonchalant, as if he were trying to maintain his in spite of the fact that he was, in essence, manipulating his brother. “It’s one you know…” he added temptingly.
“Are you sure you don’t mind sharing the stage with me?” Ed asked, oblivious as usual to his brother’s conniving. The fact that he was distracted by thoughts of showing up Roy Mustang probably aided this.
“Of course not!” Al assured him quickly, and his smile was apparently from his tone, though not in his expressionless ‘face’. “We’ll be up right after the first song after the intermission, alright?” His tone had become vaguely mischievious; he was obviously hiding something, but Ed wasn’t really paying attention and simply nodded his agreement.
The older boy was completely and utterly distracted until the Colonel stepped back onto the stage and the women in the audience began screaming their approval. The man smirked enigmatically and pulled his fedora down over his eyes, pressing a gloved finger to his lips. The women instantly fell silent, and Ed scowled darkly, unsure why exactly he was so upset.
The music picked up then, something fast and jazzy, and Mustang took the microphone from its stand. When he began snapping his fingers in time with the beat, half the audience flinched instinctively, though the gloves he wore were plain and harmless.
However, Roy’s voice when he began to sing, Ed decided, was anything but harmless. He’d never heard the Colonel sound more confident and flirtatious, and when the man beckoned out into the audience, even he strained to see who the man indicated. He nearly started laughing a second later, however, because, at least from his angle, it looked like the Colonel was gesturing to Major Armstrong.
However, when Roy paused, a light, sweet, yet inherently strong voice picked up the melody, even before the woman at its source was visible. Then Riza Hawkeye stepped out of the Major’s shadow and picked her way through the crowd up onto the stage, and Ed could almost hear everyone’s jaw drop. His own mouth had certainly fallen open.
The dress she wore was a strapless affair that clung to her body in all the right places, and fell past her ankles. The slit up the left side bared a perfect thigh, and her long, blonde hair fell loose about her shoulders. However, despite her uncharacteristic appearance, there was nothing vulnerable about Hawkeye. In no way was this more obvious than in the rather distinctively-shaped bulge at the top of her left thigh just above the slit that showed that she was armed even in evening wear.
She slipped up to Roy’s side as they sang back and forth, leaning her back against his shoulder with her head turned towards the audience. Though her voice was light and vaguely sultry as she sang, the Lieutenant was all business. Her demeanour and body language were fiercely protective, and Ed knew this was because the Colonel was obviously not wearing his arrayed gloves.
The combination made by Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye meant that, when the song ended, the entire audience exploded with sound; the men, after picking their jaws back up off the ground (and Havoc his cigarette as well), and the women each trying to outdo all the rest in order to attract Mustang’s attention.
Ed steeled himself. Again he was going to be following an act that he knew he couldn’t top. He’d already told Al that he would perform with the younger boy, though, so there was no backing out now. He rose to his feet once Hawkeye and Mustang had vacated the stage, following his brother up and realizing in a moment of frantic anxiety that he had never been told what they were singing, and he’d forgotten to take a second glance at the lineup to check. This nervousness was only partially allayed when the opening music began and he realized he did in fact know the song, because he also knew that this particular song had three parts, and there would only be two of them singing, and he had no idea what his brother had planned.
The older boy felt a familiar pair of eyes on him and pointedly ignored that gaze, refusing to let himself get any more anxious. His voice was deceptively strong when he began to sing, his confidence feigned. What was going to happen when they got to the third part of the verse and there was no one to sing it?
Al’s confidence was sincere when it came to be his turn, a grin evident in his tone. He knew his brother had no idea what was going to happen and was very excited that he’d be able to surprise Ed. Not only that, but this song was his favourite, and it had been forever since they’d sung it.
There was hardly a beat after Al’s voice died away before the third of their number broke in, cheerful and strong, and Ed swore at first that he was hearing things. It had to be wishful thinking, after all, because there was no way she was here.
But no. As Ed scanned the audience, there she was, vivid blue eyes dancing with mirth at being able to surprise him as she sang to them. It was obvious to him now that he’d been had, since Al had to have plotted this entire thing for Winry to actually be at Eastern HQ. However, as the three of them sang to one another as they had when they were younger, Ed found it didn’t matter at all. Even thoughts of besting the Colonel were the furthest from his mind.
He was warm and languid with nostalgia when the finished, completely oblivious to the applause they received as he and Al stepped from the stage. Ed went straight to Winry, tugging her out of Major Armstrong’s shadow, where she too had been concealed for the entirety of the show, and back to where he and Al had been sitting. He was happy enough that as he watched Roy Mustang take the stage again, he gave the man a rare, genuine smile that seemed almost to discomfit the Colonel.
Then Havoc, Breda, Fury, Falman, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, and Lieutenant Ross trooped onto the stage, lining up behind the Colonel. Only Hughes looked anything close to comfortable, a wide smile on his face, and Ed had to force himself not to laugh. That feat became more difficult when the song began and it became obvious that the other six were simply meant to be Roy’s backup singers. It was also obvious that Hughes had conned Ross into performing, because his hand was rather firm on her shoulder, keeping her in place as they sang.
And then the laughter just couldn’t be prevented as the Fuhrer himself got on stage and began singing backup as well. His only reassurance was in the fact that he wasn’t the only one laughing, and Mustang was smiling at him.
Well, he couldn’t really be certain about that. The Bastard could have been smiling at Winry. However, Ed decided that if that was the case, he’d have to kill the man.
With the conclusion of the finale, practically the entire audience dissolved into a combination of laughter and applause. The show had obviously been a complete success, despite how nervous Ed had been initially.
Ed was only half listening to Al as the boy explained with a certain level of embarrassment that he and Winry had plans to go shopping for the rest of the afternoon. Of course, the implication was that Ed was not invited, but this hardly bothered the older boy. His eyes were elsewhere as he nodded and waved his brother away with a smile.
He was watching Al’s and Winry’s backs recede before resuming his search when the voice of the person for whom he was searching sounded behind him, sending a surprised shiver down Ed’s spine as he wheeled around. “Looking for someone, Fullmetal?” Mustang teased, raising an eyebrow. Strangely enough, his expression hadn’t quite shifted back to his characteristic smirk from the smile he’d worn while he’d been singing.
“Who’re you smiling at?” Ed replied smugly, bumping into the man’s shoulder rather deliberately as he made his way past the Colonel, completely satisfied with how the day had gone. He smirked at the sound of Roy’s laughter following him. A good day, and a good performance.
~Fin.
Author: Moi
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Well, it's technically gen, but I suppose you could see some pre-Ed/Roy and pre-Al/Winry, if you squint.
Rating: PG-13 for language
A/N: Well, this is pure, unadulterated crackfic. Basically spawned of the desire to see the characters actually sing the songs from their respective songfiles. (Except Winry and Hughes, as I haven't heard their solo songfiles.) So yeah. I incorporated all of the songs from Ed's, Al's, and Roy's songfiles except for the one from Ed's that I don't really like that much. This is not a songfic. (I would not sink that low.) There are no mentions of lyrics in the fic, though if you look closely, you can figure out which ones I'm referring to most of the time. Twenty-five points and a drabble of your choice to whoever can guess the order that I put them in. Enjoy! (And kudos to
anil_galia for helping inspire me to write this. XD)They’d always known that the Fuhrer had a twisted sense of humour, but this really was too much. Edward Elric watched the building of the large platform with a sense of impending doom. Al, who was standing beside him, seemed downright chipper by comparison, which was a rather impressive feat for a suit of armour.
“Do you think the Fuhrer would let me do two, Niisan?” the younger boy asked, his excitement clear from his tone, though he didn’t have facial expression. He was so transfixed on the construction of the platform that it took him a few moments to even realize that Ed had started walking away, apparently disgusted by his brother’s question.
“Yeah, I’m sure he will,” came the reply when Al managed to catch up. “Hell, you know what? You can have my slot,” he offered, trying to make his tone as magnanimous-sounding as possible.
Al’s tone immediately became stern and chiding. “The Fuhrer said that everyone in Colonel Mustang’s command has to participate. You can’t get out of it.”
The older boy’s countenance darkened as he headed into Eastern HQ. “Don’t know why I should be punished…bastard Colonel…all his fault,” came a series of soft mutters under his breath. There was a distinct shift, and his muttered words seemed to focus on his brother. “Don’t understand why you want to do this anyway…must be insane. You don’t even have to!”
The younger boy giggled quietly. “Oh, Niisan. You’re overreacting. I bet it’s going to be fun!” He received a withering look and quickly amended himself. “At least the Colonel has to do it, too…” he offered instead.
That perked Ed right up, and the expression that formed on his face was not at all friendly, though his lips could be loosely described as a smile. “That’s right!” he murmured with satisfaction. “The bastard has to make an ass of himself, too. Maybe this will be worth it after all…”
Al looked far more nervous than a suit of armour had any right to. As excited as he had been, he knew that if his brother was actually looking forward to this, it didn’t bode well at all. Things would most certainly end in disaster.
~~~***~~~
All work in Colonel Mustang’s office in Eastern HQ had slowed to a crawl that week in anticipation of the event that would take place early Friday afternoon. Ed and Alphonse had had to go in for various reasons throughout the week, and it was no longer a strange sight to see Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fury hunched around a desk, arguing.
It seemed that the other offices were curious about the proceedings as well, because more than once he’d caught other office’s personnel trying to peek into the outer office. The most recent, one of General Hakuro’s lackeys, he’d sent scurrying with a furious scowl. “You’ll see soon enough.” He honestly couldn’t understand why the General was even there; probably wanted to see Mustang squirm. As much as Ed agreed, he was a little selfish with it, wanting to have that pleasure as much to himself as he could.
However, as much as he had been anticipating such a thing, Ed had grown surlier again. From what he had seen so far of Mustang, the man was not fazed at all by the situation in which he’d been placed. He’d tried his best to keep the man from figuring out just how anxious he was, but he got the distinct feeling that the Colonel was laughing at him.
Al had given up on trying to tiptoe around his brother long before Friday, realizing it was nearly impossible to avoid the older boy’s wrath. They had taken to having conversations through shouting matches across the military dorm they shared. The neighbours had given up on complaining.
“You really ought to wear something different for this, Niisan!” Al shouted into the small kitchen as he looked over his notes. “You’re going to be up in front of all those people!”
“I refuse to dress up!” Ed shouted back as he made himself a sandwich. “It would imply I want to do this, and I don’t! These people know what I look like, and I don’t care if I impress them or not!” He sauntered into the living room, picking pieces of crust from his bread and eating them.
Al was never so glad to have an unreadable face. “I would dress up for it, if I could,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes carefully averted from his brother. He knew it was a low blow, but the situation was settled, and Ed and Al went shopping.
~~~***~~~
The only other military event that had received such a massive turnout had been Ed’s state alchemist evaluation in which he’d fought Colonel Mustang. This one was a very close second, however, and while Ed had not been nervous at all the last time he’d been on display, this time, he felt as though his insides were a mass of writhing snakes. He was an alchemist, goddamnit! Not a singer!
He glanced down at the lineup he’d been handed and scowled, cursing the Fuhrer under his breath. He would have had a fit if he’d been placed first or last, and thankfully he’d been put third, but he’d been hoping this would all end up being just a joke, and that he wouldn’t be on the lineup at all.
The boy frowned down at the sheet of paper again, realizing there was nothing on it to tell him who was going when; it was simply a list of song titles. He thought he recognized one of his brother’s songs, but he hadn’t paid attention to what the younger boy had planned, so he couldn’t be sure. He groaned quietly to himself; this meant he was probably going to have to stay for the entire thing. He didn’t want to miss an opportunity for Mustang to make an ass of himself.
He sighed as he took a seat in the section of the audience that had been denoted for performers, to the side of the stage. His sense of foreboding was stronger than ever when he noticed that Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fury were all in uniform. “Aren’t you guys dressing up for this?” he hissed quietly, tugging at the collar of his shirt nervously, cursing Al for making him wear such ridiculous clothes.
Havoc grinned and shook his head. “No, Boss. This is our costume for our performance. You look good, though,” he added, his tone simultaneously sincere and apologetic.
Ed scowled, crossing his arms over his chest protectively and focusing on the stage as his brother ascended and stepped towards the microphone. Was it really so obvious how uncomfortable he was? He didn’t want any sympathy from a man who at least got to be comfortable in his own clothes while he made a fool of himself.
However, any thoughts of self-pity were driven from Ed’s mind as the music for his brother’s number started, his eyes riveted on the stage. The notes were soft and delicate as the piece opened, and Al’s voice was almost painfully hesitant as he began to sing. Ed swore that anyone who so much as made a sound during his brother’s song was going to find automail in unmentionable places.
That wasn’t going to be a problem. As the song went on, Al’s voice became more and more confident, bringing out the soulful nature of the melody effectively. He gazed out over the audience and saw every pair of eyes locked on him. His smile was evident in his voice, though his helm remained emotionless.
When the song was over, there was a pause of complete silence before the audience erupted into applause, a few enthusiastic wolf-whistles rending the air from Havoc and Breda. Al bowed repeatedly, his demeanour incredibly bashful, before clanking off the stage.
Once everyone had settled again, the next performer ascended to the stage and Ed’s jaw nearly dropped. Roy Mustang was wearing a suit of charcoal grey, a white shirt beneath that provided a startling contrast, and a matching fedora. He smirked at the audience as the music started, and even despite the volume of it, Ed heard a chorus of sighs from the women in attendance, many of whom, the blonde knew, hand snuck in just for a peek at the Colonel.
It was an upbeat song and Mustang sang it well. Ed had to grudgingly admit, better than well. The man’s confidence was stunning, and the blonde knew it had been foolish to wish him to be anything but. Roy Mustang had been made to show off, and he did so with relish. His deep, resonant tone was slightly flirtatious, as was his entire stage presence.
Mustang was greeted with applause more raucous than that which Al had been, and Ed’s insides performed a little flip, wrenching painfully. It was a cruel twist of fate that he had to follow an act like that; he was convinced. He nearly choked in surprise when Havoc clapped him on the back when he rose. “Break a leg,” the man murmured encouragingly.
“I’ve only got one to break,” Ed responded wryly, careful not to even glance at Mustang as he made his way onto the stage. His heart felt as though it were in his throat. He was certain he would croak when he opened his mouth, he was so nervous.
The boy stepped up behind the microphone, tugging at the collar of the white button-up shirt Al had forced him to buy, only vaguely relieved that his brother had allowed him to wear his usual pants and boots to finish the outfit. He was flushing slightly as he stood there until he heard a loud, shrill whistle, obviously meant to be encouraging, but it only made his face darken further. No one was booing him off the stage yet, however, and that, at least, was reassuring as the music began.
He found himself beginning to sing more instinctively than anything; part of Ed had been afraid he’d miss his entrance. In spite of this, his voice was extremely soft as he started, as if he were hoping no one would hear him if he were quiet enough.
Ed’s eyes darted out across the audience and found quite a few familiar faces, all of them smiling. It easily bolstered his confidence, helping him relax, and he was soon belting the long notes, his voice strong and well-supported. His gaze found Mustang’s in the fray, and his eyes narrowed at the smirk he was being given. Almost in defiance of that look, Ed jutted out his hip to the side slightly, beginning to inject an almost sultry element into his tone.
The expression that formed on the Colonel’s face then was somewhere between shocked, amused, and something inherently indecent. Ed nearly choked, but luckily he was at the end of the song anyway, and he didn’t have to maintain his composure long.
His cheeks were red again, though it had little to do with his singing. After all, as the audience roared their approval, it was obvious he had done well. He swore as he stepped from the stage, carefully avoiding the Colonel’s eyes again, that he was going to get his revenge, ignoring the fact that Mustang had yet to do something wrong that he could actually accuse the man of.
Al was up again, so he gave Havoc only a brief grin of appreciation as the man clapped him on the back, a quick word of congratulations murmured into his ear. He slouched down in his chair as he noticed those around him trying to get a look at him, pointedly focusing his gaze on his brother, who had just stepped up behind the microphone.
The younger boy, as if encouraged by his brother’s performance, started out with far more self-assurance than he had had last time, no signs of hesitance in his voice. More than that, Alphonse had attitude as he sang, his tone easily making the shift from strong, belted out long notes to quieter, more intense sections that the boy somehow made sound nearly seductive.
Ed’s jaw positively dropped, and he couldn’t even think enough to clap when his brother had finished. He just couldn’t believe it. His younger brother simply didn’t have any right to sound like that, and he found himself speechless until several seconds after Al took the seat beside him.
“That was really good,” Ed murmured, still vaguely in shock. “Have you always been able to sing like that?” He turned to gaze directly at his brother when it became clear that they were having an intermission.
Al shifted, and Ed could almost hear him blushing. He was quick to change the subject, however. “Niisan! You won’t believe what I heard! Colonel Mustang is performing in two of the last three numbers!”
This was such news that Ed didn’t even focus on the fact that his brother wouldn’t meet his eyes. “That arrogant bastard! Thinks he’s so great!” he gritted furiously. “As if it wasn’t enough that he sounded amazing in the first one. Now he’s gotta make sure that everyone drools over him?” He would have continued on his rant, except that Al had cleared his throat, gesturing his head to Ed’s side, his eyes locked on a point over Ed’s shoulder.
The older boy found himself flushing slightly even before he turned to confirm his fears. “Colonel,” he muttered, thoroughly embarrassed and hoping the man hadn’t heard what he’d said. That was really too much to wish for…
“So you enjoyed my performance, Fullmetal?” Mustang remarked teasingly. “I’m glad to hear that. Yours was rather enjoyable as well…” And then the man was walking away, presumably to prepare for his next song, or sign autographs or something.
Ed was about to boil over. Al couldn’t have planned it better himself. “Are you going to let him get away with that, Niisan?” he asked. The older boy seemed so furious that he didn’t notice the fact that his brother wouldn’t meet his eyes, nor that he seemed to be fidgeting an awful lot for a suit of armour. This was a good thing, and Al pressed his advantage. “You should perform another song and show him up once and for all!”
Now, Al had never really had anything against the Colonel, and he didn’t really care who sounded better, but he knew his brother and just what buttons to push to motivate the older boy. He’d already tried several times to get Ed to agree to perform a second song, but his brother had been extremely stubborn. This time he knew he would be successful.
“How can I?” Ed murmured thoughtfully, and Al inwardly cheered.
“You could perform my third song with me,” the younger boy offered, his tone carefully nonchalant, as if he were trying to maintain his in spite of the fact that he was, in essence, manipulating his brother. “It’s one you know…” he added temptingly.
“Are you sure you don’t mind sharing the stage with me?” Ed asked, oblivious as usual to his brother’s conniving. The fact that he was distracted by thoughts of showing up Roy Mustang probably aided this.
“Of course not!” Al assured him quickly, and his smile was apparently from his tone, though not in his expressionless ‘face’. “We’ll be up right after the first song after the intermission, alright?” His tone had become vaguely mischievious; he was obviously hiding something, but Ed wasn’t really paying attention and simply nodded his agreement.
The older boy was completely and utterly distracted until the Colonel stepped back onto the stage and the women in the audience began screaming their approval. The man smirked enigmatically and pulled his fedora down over his eyes, pressing a gloved finger to his lips. The women instantly fell silent, and Ed scowled darkly, unsure why exactly he was so upset.
The music picked up then, something fast and jazzy, and Mustang took the microphone from its stand. When he began snapping his fingers in time with the beat, half the audience flinched instinctively, though the gloves he wore were plain and harmless.
However, Roy’s voice when he began to sing, Ed decided, was anything but harmless. He’d never heard the Colonel sound more confident and flirtatious, and when the man beckoned out into the audience, even he strained to see who the man indicated. He nearly started laughing a second later, however, because, at least from his angle, it looked like the Colonel was gesturing to Major Armstrong.
However, when Roy paused, a light, sweet, yet inherently strong voice picked up the melody, even before the woman at its source was visible. Then Riza Hawkeye stepped out of the Major’s shadow and picked her way through the crowd up onto the stage, and Ed could almost hear everyone’s jaw drop. His own mouth had certainly fallen open.
The dress she wore was a strapless affair that clung to her body in all the right places, and fell past her ankles. The slit up the left side bared a perfect thigh, and her long, blonde hair fell loose about her shoulders. However, despite her uncharacteristic appearance, there was nothing vulnerable about Hawkeye. In no way was this more obvious than in the rather distinctively-shaped bulge at the top of her left thigh just above the slit that showed that she was armed even in evening wear.
She slipped up to Roy’s side as they sang back and forth, leaning her back against his shoulder with her head turned towards the audience. Though her voice was light and vaguely sultry as she sang, the Lieutenant was all business. Her demeanour and body language were fiercely protective, and Ed knew this was because the Colonel was obviously not wearing his arrayed gloves.
The combination made by Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye meant that, when the song ended, the entire audience exploded with sound; the men, after picking their jaws back up off the ground (and Havoc his cigarette as well), and the women each trying to outdo all the rest in order to attract Mustang’s attention.
Ed steeled himself. Again he was going to be following an act that he knew he couldn’t top. He’d already told Al that he would perform with the younger boy, though, so there was no backing out now. He rose to his feet once Hawkeye and Mustang had vacated the stage, following his brother up and realizing in a moment of frantic anxiety that he had never been told what they were singing, and he’d forgotten to take a second glance at the lineup to check. This nervousness was only partially allayed when the opening music began and he realized he did in fact know the song, because he also knew that this particular song had three parts, and there would only be two of them singing, and he had no idea what his brother had planned.
The older boy felt a familiar pair of eyes on him and pointedly ignored that gaze, refusing to let himself get any more anxious. His voice was deceptively strong when he began to sing, his confidence feigned. What was going to happen when they got to the third part of the verse and there was no one to sing it?
Al’s confidence was sincere when it came to be his turn, a grin evident in his tone. He knew his brother had no idea what was going to happen and was very excited that he’d be able to surprise Ed. Not only that, but this song was his favourite, and it had been forever since they’d sung it.
There was hardly a beat after Al’s voice died away before the third of their number broke in, cheerful and strong, and Ed swore at first that he was hearing things. It had to be wishful thinking, after all, because there was no way she was here.
But no. As Ed scanned the audience, there she was, vivid blue eyes dancing with mirth at being able to surprise him as she sang to them. It was obvious to him now that he’d been had, since Al had to have plotted this entire thing for Winry to actually be at Eastern HQ. However, as the three of them sang to one another as they had when they were younger, Ed found it didn’t matter at all. Even thoughts of besting the Colonel were the furthest from his mind.
He was warm and languid with nostalgia when the finished, completely oblivious to the applause they received as he and Al stepped from the stage. Ed went straight to Winry, tugging her out of Major Armstrong’s shadow, where she too had been concealed for the entirety of the show, and back to where he and Al had been sitting. He was happy enough that as he watched Roy Mustang take the stage again, he gave the man a rare, genuine smile that seemed almost to discomfit the Colonel.
Then Havoc, Breda, Fury, Falman, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, and Lieutenant Ross trooped onto the stage, lining up behind the Colonel. Only Hughes looked anything close to comfortable, a wide smile on his face, and Ed had to force himself not to laugh. That feat became more difficult when the song began and it became obvious that the other six were simply meant to be Roy’s backup singers. It was also obvious that Hughes had conned Ross into performing, because his hand was rather firm on her shoulder, keeping her in place as they sang.
And then the laughter just couldn’t be prevented as the Fuhrer himself got on stage and began singing backup as well. His only reassurance was in the fact that he wasn’t the only one laughing, and Mustang was smiling at him.
Well, he couldn’t really be certain about that. The Bastard could have been smiling at Winry. However, Ed decided that if that was the case, he’d have to kill the man.
With the conclusion of the finale, practically the entire audience dissolved into a combination of laughter and applause. The show had obviously been a complete success, despite how nervous Ed had been initially.
Ed was only half listening to Al as the boy explained with a certain level of embarrassment that he and Winry had plans to go shopping for the rest of the afternoon. Of course, the implication was that Ed was not invited, but this hardly bothered the older boy. His eyes were elsewhere as he nodded and waved his brother away with a smile.
He was watching Al’s and Winry’s backs recede before resuming his search when the voice of the person for whom he was searching sounded behind him, sending a surprised shiver down Ed’s spine as he wheeled around. “Looking for someone, Fullmetal?” Mustang teased, raising an eyebrow. Strangely enough, his expression hadn’t quite shifted back to his characteristic smirk from the smile he’d worn while he’d been singing.
“Who’re you smiling at?” Ed replied smugly, bumping into the man’s shoulder rather deliberately as he made his way past the Colonel, completely satisfied with how the day had gone. He smirked at the sound of Roy’s laughter following him. A good day, and a good performance.
~Fin.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2005-08-12 06:28 am (UTC)OMG You did that SO much better than I ever could have *SQUEES* XD XD XD
no subject
on 2005-08-12 06:32 am (UTC)