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Mission no. 4 Entry

Title: After the Reception Comes the Real Event
Author: Lucifer Hisaki (mercy_slays /luciferhisaki )
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang/Alphonse Elric
Summary: "Did anyone tell you..."
Disclaimer: You do not have a legal suit for the whole FMA thing. So don't even try.
Notes: Very implied Havoc/Hawkeye
Word Count: 1295

After the Reception Comes the Real Event


“Did anyone tell you, you looked like the bride herself up there,” was the first thing he heard once he entered his home. It was late—just after oh-one-hundred hours, late.

Obviously, even with his permission for his two lovers to just go home and sleep, they would still remain awake until he was done. He smirked slightly and closed the door behind him, lifting a shoulder partway to start removing the black trench coat he always wore on these cool, transitional spring-to-summer nights. It was still cold enough for people to mistaken the month to be November, not June. Let Mother Nature be off for tonight, all he wanted was to be in a warm bed, sleeping with his two lovers besides him.

“Well?” He could hear the impatience in the same person’s voice as he allowed his coat to fall off one shoulder, removing his arm from the sleeve in the process. “Did anyone tell you that or not?”

Chuckling, he shook his head and raised an eyebrow briefly, “I believe there were at least one or two people, besides you, of course.” Even tired there was still some of his usual dry amusement in his tone as he hanged his coat on the coat rack, next to one tan knee-length coat and bright red trench. Some things just never changed, even with all the years that had gone by. His grin widened as he turned to face the person speaking toward him.

Arms crossed, even with the years of maturity now making its mark on the blond’s face, he still cannot think of this man as anyone, but the hot-headed alchemist he had taken under his wing (more or less). Grinning slightly at the blond, he made his way to his eldest lover and kissed him lightly on the forehead, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous. I was only the best man there, Fullmetal.”

The blond grunted and looked away, mock-snarling at the taller man before pulling him down for a deeper kiss. He submitted easily and freely, allowing the younger man to delve his tongue without protest into his mouth, suckling softly on the muscle; sliding his own against the inner cheek, grazing over the edges of teeth. Humming softly, he withdrew slightly after a small tongue-duel and tucked a few strands of hair behind his lover’s ear (an act of irritation, the blond always said). Staring down, he replied, “Now that’s how you properly greet a loved one.”

His lover just rolled his eyes, pulling at his hand, tugging him into the living room, not allowing him the time to even remove his boots. Usually, the smaller man waited until he finished that part of his routine before hauling him to wherever he wished.

“Come on, bastard, it’s bloody time you finally got home anyway,” the blond retorted softly with a hint of affection on the curse, “We’ve been waiting a long time for you to come home.”

“I told you, it’s my duty to stay behind and see everyone leave as well as greet them goodbye,” he replied back with patient parry, “It’s not like I cannot help what I am obliged to do, Fullmetal.” His grin widened as he pulled the blond toward him again, enveloping him in a tight hug, “But if it makes you feel better, I will tell you that I am terribly sorry about that.”

“Oh shut it, Al’s waiting.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. They were soon in front of a roaring fire and he wondered which one of them actually took the time to set the wood in the hearth ablaze. Usually it was him, with all his reticence to lighting a flame in his own home. All around him was decorations, not unlike what he had seen at the wedding ceremony and the reception. Swallowing a slight snicker, he took in his lover’s appearance (he didn’t question the black tuxedo that the blond fought tooth and nail in protest of wearing). Obviously, they were up to something and he couldn’t help but feel a bit flattered—and loved.

Before them was their youngest lover of their ménage à trois relationship and he could feel the slight grin on his face become even wider when he caught sight of the third member in the same suit as before (black as night with a crème coloured shirt that contrasted nicely with his rather grey-bronze eyes). A quick glance at the taller blond and back to the younger one made him notice they still haven’t gotten rid of the ties they had disliked greatly.

“My, my… if you were waiting so long, what’s this?” He played coy, raising an eyebrow as he allowed himself to stand next to the youngest as the eldest took his place on his right.

Alphonse rolled his eyes and smiled at them, taking his hand—the very same hand Edward still held—and squeezed it gently, “We… just couldn’t help but think of something like this. Maybe it was the wedding or just seeing you like this.” He blushed nicely, wonderful enough that he bent down and brushed his lips against his cheek, “But we think it’s just time… time to finally you-know.”

And he did. He did know and his smile widened though he had to wonder, “Why am I the bride?”

“Because you’re all in white, damn it. Not my fault you look good enough to throw away the rules of convention and just go ahead and fuck you into the altar,” Edward scoffed, tightening his grip on their joined hands; studying Roy closely: memorizing every single gold button, the beige sash that came around his body from shoulder to hip and back again, the metals of valour the brunet had earned throughout all the years in the Military; the pristine bright coloured rank insignias on his shoulder; the slicked back hair with small, yet bright streaks of grey in the darkest of ebony locks, “Thank the Gate, I didn’t. I didn’t think Hawkeye would want me to ruin her wedding day to Havoc.”

Roy snickered softly and nuzzled the elder Elric lightly, brushing his mouth against the others, “I suppose I should be grateful for that. I rather not be killed on her wedding day of all days.” He shook his head lightly and stared at their hands, noticing that Edward had used his flesh hand this time (he used to tug Roy around with his automail one, bruising the older man’s hand easily and quite often). Quite the triangle they were and yet somehow they worked.

Then again, Triangles in Nature were usually the strongest of all the shapes he had heard some time ago in an old alchemy lesson with his Teacher.

Never had he imagined that he would be in a relationship with his own subordinate and his brother. Then again, he didn’t imagine many things. He just took things as they came and nodded (sometimes, smirking) along the way. It was easier to deal with the good things in life if one didn’t plan them too much, in his opinion. And more rewarding.

With the same grin he wore for all the years he had been in the military and then some, he stepped closer as he listened to Edward starting to speak in words that made the ones he had heard the priest say to his best friends and subordinates only hours before a pale rendition.

He gripped tightly on the hands he held and opened his mouth, ready to say his vows, but not before thinking, Just because I’m Fuhrer and it is by law (somewhat) I should wear the White dress uniform, does not mean I should be the Bride in all this. Though… I do wonder how they would react if they find out I am wearing a garter underneath all this as a jest and a dare from Havoc.

The End



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