Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Snake in the Playpen ❯ Part 2: Room With a View ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

SNAKE IN THE PLAYPEN
A Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfic With Lemon
Written in Response to Challenges #2 (“The Audience,”) #15 (“The Bordello, or Dude Looks Like a Lady of the Night”) and #30 (“The Playroom, or, Wow, Santa Never Brought Me *That* Kind of Toy!") on the 30_Lemons Community

By Sailor Mac

PART TWO -- ROOM WITH A VIEW

When Ed woke up from his nap, Russell was running the shower. “I *told* him I wanted to sterilize the tub before we used it,” he mumbled. Well, Russell was a competent alchemist -- Ed hoped he’d thought to perform the sterilization himself.

He sat up, reaching down to rub his side, and felt the leather still there. He sighed. He knew that when Russell left -- they agreed he would depart for at least a few hours each day to make a report to Roy and reassure Al that his brother was all right -- he’d have to walk him downstairs in those clothes again.

Okay, he didn’t mind *Russell* seeing him in the corset -- much -- as long as Russell found it attractive. Anyone else, though . . .

“Maybe there’s a robe or something I can wear on top of it,” he said aloud, getting off the bed and heading across the room. When he opened the closet door, he fully expected to see more of the implements like those in the rack by his bed.

Instead, to his surprise, he found it rather *normal* looking, with racks of neatly folded linens on the sides and several different robes hanging from a rod.

“Now we’re talking!” he said. He began to look through the robes, immediately rejecting a see-thorough one, weighing whether a plain white terrycloth one was *too* plain for the role he was expected to play . . .

As he pushed that one aside, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. It looked for all the world like a doorknob set into the back wall. Curious, he bent over and examined it -- and it *was* a doorknob, painted the same white as the wood surrounding it.

“Huh,” he said. He twisted it and pushed, only to have nothing happen. He was about to clap his hands and transmute it open when he caught sight of a small latch under the knob, so inconspicuous you could practically have your hand on it and not know it was there.

“Very clever,” he said, pushing it aside. This time, the knob turned, and the State Alchemist pushed open the door, sticking his head out.

He was greeted with the sight of a corridor, very plain -- but not entirely dark, because someone had set small lamps into the walls here and there.

“Hmm,” he said. “Wonder where *this* goes.”

Pulling his head back, he shut the door and walked back into the bedroom, where Russell was zipping up his suit pants, his shirt lying on the bed next to him.

“Guess what I found?” Ed said as he retrieved the bikini underwear and pulled them back on.

“Some of Madame Marie’s papers?” Russell said, pulling the shirt on -- too bad, Ed thought, the view had been quite lovely.

“Nope,” Ed replied, a bit of a smug, overly-proud tone creeping into his voice. “I just may have found a spy corridor.”

“You’re kidding.” Russell finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it into his pants, and Ed couldn’t help but be amused by the fact that he automatically reached down for suspenders that weren’t there.

“Not kidding at all,” Ed said, pointing to the closet. “Take a look.”

Russell followed him into the door, and Ed turned the knob, gesturing into the hall. Russell walked out into it, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Ed followed, shutting the door behind them -- it seemed to vanish into the wall again, being as plain brown as the wood around it.

“How will we know which one of these doors is ours?” Russell said.

“Simple,” Ed said. He clapped his hands, then touched them to the wood. A flash of sparks later, a diagonal slash had been cut into it, just long and distinct enough to be noticeable. “There you go, instant door-marker.”

“Quiet,” Russell whispered. “Do you want to get caught?”

“Relax, Russell,” Ed whispered back, “this hall is probably soundproof. If it is what I think it is, do you think they *want* people to hear someone scurrying through the walls?”

He led the younger boy down the hall, then around a corner -- where, suddenly, they realized the wall wasn’t so plain anymore. There were windows set into it, spaced at intervals that suggested each one offered a view into a different room.

The boys crept down the corridor, slowly, peeking into the first one -- there was a woman in it, the same redhead who had led Edward down the stairs, apparently getting ready to receive her steady customer. She was wearing a black lace bustier that left little to the imagination, panties to match and thigh-high stockings, and was leaning over her dressing table, carefully applying makeup in the mirror.

“Watch it,” Russell whispered. “She’ll see us!”

“You think that’s a window?” Edward whispered back. “It’s a one-way mirror. Remember the big mirror on one wall of the room? I’ll bet every room in here has one, and they all face onto this corridor.”

The woman dropped her mascara with a loud clatter, and said, “Damn!” -- the sound nearly as distinct as if she’d been standing next to Ed and Russell.

“And it seems like there’s some kind of one-way sound transmission device in the rooms, too,” Ed whispered.

They moved further down the hall. In another room, a petite woman with short brown hair was cleaning up after her guest had left for the afternoon, opening the window to air the place out and pulling the sheets from the bed. The next room was dark and empty.

“Is that a stairway up there?” Russell whispered.

“Sure is,” Ed replied. “Probably goes down to the second floor, where the people who don’t have steady customers are . . .”

They descended the stairs in silence, Ed noting that someone had put lamps there, too. They reached the bottom, turned a corner -- and froze.

The room in front of them was definitely not empty, and the people within were definitely not changing sheets or applying makeup.

There were three men in there. A man with curly, dark-brown hair and the physique of a slightly lapsed athlete was lying on the bed, his wrists tied into the straps that hung from the bedposts, like the ones in Ed’s room. A boy slightly older than Ed, with a slender build, pale skin, black hair and long-lashed green eyes, was kneeling on the mattress next to him, stroking his erection, occasionally bending over to kiss and lick it.

But it was what the third boy was doing that was most interesting. He had his fingers in the man’s ass, obviously prepping him for sex, casually reaching up and brushing his shoulder-length platinum blond hair behind his shoulder as he worked.

Ed noted the look of firm concentration on the boy’s heart-shaped, almost girlishly pretty face -- he obviously knew what he was doing and was waiting for just the *right* moment to move on to the next step. Sure enough, when the man on the bed began to shudder and moan in pleasure, the boy slid his fingers out and wiped them on a towel.

Ed was rooted to the spot, as if his feet were cemented to the floor. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him if he wanted to. He stole a look over at Russell -- his lover was staring with wide eyes, his cheeks seeming a bit flushed in the dim light.

Now the long-haired boy was picking up the lube bottle -- but instead of coating his own erection, he reached for the rack next to the bed and pulled out something purple, almost the same side and shape as a male organ, which he then lavishly coated with the liquid.

Ed’s heart was pounding -- he knew what that was, he knew what the boy was going to do, and part of him was thinking, “Ghaa, that’s *disgusting*!” -- but a big, big part of him was also thinking, “Oooohhh . . .”

The boy showed the object to the man. “Tell me you want this,” he said.

“Please,” the man said. “Please, give it to me . . . I need it, I have to have it . . .”

The blond put the toy at the man’s entrance and started to push, just as the brunet leaned over and took the man’s erection in his mouth. The man arched off the bed and uttered a strangled cry, and Ed could just *feel* the combination of pleasure and pain, feel it deep in his own body.

He watched as the blond moved the toy in and out, very gently, as the brunet sucked on the man harder, taking him in so deep Ed thought he was going to choke himself, and he heard the man *moaning*, a low, keening sound of pure pleasure that touched off fires in his own blood.

He started to wonder if *he* sounded like that when he and Russell made love.

The man on the bed writhed, pulling against his bonds, as the two continued to work on him, and then the blond left the toy inside him and bent his head so that he was licking up one side of his erection while the brunet worked on the other.

Ed watched them both, saw two tongues sliding around and around hard, heated flesh, two beautiful boys pleasuring a man together, heard panting and moaning and low pleas of “Make me come, make me come . . .”

Suddenly, it was all too much for him, and he turned around and headed for the stairs -- hearing Russell’s footsteps close behind him.

Ed didn’t stop running until he saw the door with the mark on it. He grabbed it and yanked it open, pushing aside the robes to run back into the room. He sat on the bed, breathing heavily -- and realized, to his huge embarrassment, that he had a full erection -- which he bent over to hide when Russell burst into the room after him.

“Well, I think we know that you can see *and* hear what’s going on in those rooms,” Russell said, sitting in the chair -- and Ed couldn’t help but notice that he was bent over as well.

“Guess some people *like* watching that stuff,” Ed said, bending over further, mentally willing his problem to go away.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, leaning over more himself. “I have to tell Mustang about that. It’s definitely a spy network.”

Ed tipped his head upward, peering at his lover through blond bangs. “Yeah, but the question is -- was it really put there to collect information?”

Russell frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it might be there so people can watch other people doing it,” Ed said. “It might be one of the things the customers ask for.”

“You think so?” Russell was now leaning over so far, he was almost falling out of his chair -- which amused Ed to no end.

With a sly smile, he said, “You don’t seem to mind.”

Russell’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The way you’re sitting . . . it seems you enjoyed what we were looking at,” Ed said, trying to sound casual.

“You’re sitting the same way!” Russell snapped.

“Well, that’s because I’m thinking about *you* being excited,” Ed replied in his most teasing voice.

“Bullshit!” Russell said, and sprang up from his chair in one fluid motion, tackling Ed and knocking him backward onto the bed. He pinned him down and positioned himself so that his hardness touched the other boy’s, two erections brushing through layers of cloth.

“You’re hard,” Russell said, pushing his hips forward.

Ed let out a gasp. “You’re not doing so bad yourself,” he retorted in a husky voice.

“So . . . what are we going to do about this?”

“I know what *I’d* like to do,” Ed replied.

He reached up, hooking his flesh arm around Russell’s shoulders and pulled his head down, lips seeking lips eagerly, and he let out a groan as Russell’s tongue pushed into his mouth. Ed stroked it with his own as his right leg came up and hooked over the taller boy’s hip, pulling them closer still.

Ed felt Russell’s erection push against him, his lover’s fingers massaging and kneading his left shoulder above the corset. He moaned a little as the other hand tugged at that damn garment, pushing it down just enough to bare Ed’s nipples.

Russell bent his head, and Ed felt wetness and heat envelop one bud, sucking and tugging and licking and kissing, pausing ever so often to blow across it, the coolness of the air contrasting with the heat of his mouth, before sucking at it again.

Ed’s head was spinning. His mouth was open, his breath coming in loud, ragged pants. When Russell moved to the other nipple, he tangled his fingers in his hair, groaning and pulling him closer.

“So good,” he moaned. “Damn, Russell . . .”

Russell pulled back, quickly shedding his clothing, and yanked Ed’s bikini underwear off. He slid one hand up his lover’s chest, playing with the nipples again, brushing his fingers in circles, then squeezing, then brushing his thumb back and forth rapidly.

The other hand grasped Ed’s erection and began to stroke it, moving from the base to the tip and back down, brushing ever-so-lightly over his balls, caressing the place where his manhood met the rest of him. Then, he was sweeping upward again, tickling the head, slicking his fingers with precome and rubbing back and forth, back and forth.

Ed arched his hips off the bed, gripping the sheets with automail fingers. His blond hair swished on the pillow as his head rolled slowly back and forth, his body starting to writhe a bit as if he could barely contain the pleasure.

“Your mouth,” he gasped. “I want your mouth . . .”

Russell smiled at him. “What are you going to give me as equivalent exchange, Ed?”

“I’ll show you what I’ll give you!” He sat up, grabbing Russell and flipping them both over so that he was on top as one hand reached for the lubricant bottle.

Popping open the lid, Ed squeezed some of the contents onto a finger. He bent over, kissing up and down the side of Russell’s manhood, licking over the head, marveling at the shape -- the way it flared out from the shaft and arced in a gentle curve up to the tip.

As he took it into his mouth, moaning a little at the luscious feel of it sliding over his lips and tongue, he started to probe gently with the lubed digit, pushing in bit by bit.

It was the same thing he did when he was about to take Russell. But he had something slightly different in mind this time.

He knew Russell had a sweet spot deep within him -- just like he did himself. He’d brushed it by chance with both his fingers and his manhood. If he could *find* it this time . . .

Ed began to make a stroking movement with his finger, as if he were beckoning, moving it here and there as he sucked hungrily at his lover’s erection, pulling it in deeply, then tugging hard at it with his mouth, then sliding it rapidly in and out.

Russell writhed beneath him and tangled his fingers in Ed’s hair . . . but Ed knew he hadn’t quite *hit it* yet. He stroked faster, moving the digit around in circles . . .

Suddenly, Russell bucked and let out a yell, and Ed knew he had a winner.

He began to stroke faster over the spot he had just hit, caressing it oh-so-gently as his mouth continued its work, running his tongue down the shaft, teasing the balls, then going up again. Russell whimpered, his hips raising off the bed to thrust into Ed’s mouth, but Ed made sure he didn’t lose contact with *that spot.*

“Ed!” Russell cried, his body moving beneath his lover in a wavelike motion. “Ed, so good, I can’t believe it, oh, Ed . . .”

Ed stroked faster, sucked harder . . . Russell was tensing up beneath him, trembling a little, and he knew it was going to take just a *little* more . . .

And then, Russell bucked wildly, and let out a shout. Ed’s mouth was flooded with hot fluid, and he swallowed, over and over, until finally the other boy sank to the bed with a gasp.

Ed slid his finger out and reached for a tissue. Russell was flat on his back, panting, skin glistening with sweat, one hand across his eyes.

It just made Ed all the more aware of his own aching hardness.

He leaned over and kissed Russell’s lips, reaching for his hand and guiding it to his erection. “Now, I think I said something before about equivalent exchange?”

Russell lifted his head, his hair seeming to fall in his eyes even more than usual. “What *was* that you just did?”

“What, you want to know my technique? I don’t give up my secrets, you know,” Ed said, teasingly.

“I’ll find it out,” Russell said, sitting up to kiss Ed hard, tongue pushing into his mouth. The hand on his erection started a rapid up-and-down stroke, and Ed shuddered with pleasure, warm tingles beginning to move through his body. He began to lay back on the bed, Russell moving along with him, not letting go of his manhood.

Russell slid down his lover’s body, his tongue coming out to trace lazy patterns over and over the tip of Ed’s hardness, and Ed groaned -- even though a part of his mind noted, with some amusement, that the lines felt like an array.

“Are you going to transmute my cock into something, Russell?” he said in a husky, throaty voice.

“No,” Russell said. “I like it just as it is.” And suddenly his mouth was *swooping* down on Ed, enveloping his erection instantly, taking it deep, deep, until Ed could swear he was halfway down the boy’s throat.

“Aaahhh, yes, Russell,” he moaned. “Like that . . .”

He let out a groan as the warm, soft wetness slid back and forth over his heated, sensitive flesh, taking him almost all the way out, sucking hard on the head, moving downward again . . .

Russell pulled it out and flicked his tongue from place to place . . . how did he know that Ed wanted to be stroked right *there*, just under the head, and wanted light flutters *there*, right at the slit on top, and fast, back-and-forth darting right at the root of his shaft . . .

Ed was biting the back of his flesh hand now, opening his legs wider, his automail hand reaching down to hold Russell’s head where it was, like he never wanted him to leave, he wanted him to keep giving him pleasure forever.

When he took Ed’s balls into his mouth, gently sucking and licking, Ed arched off the bed, yelling, finding himself oh-so-close to coming.

“Russell,” he gasped. “Almost . . . almost there . . .”

Russell responded by grabbing Ed’s shaft in his hand and stroking fast as he tongued the sac, rubbing up and down, brushing his whole palm over the tip once, twice, three times . . .

He began gently sucking his balls again at the same time his fingers teased the slit, and Ed felt an explosion of heat deep in his soul. He cried Russell’s name out as wave after wave of luscious sensation broke over him, his whole body shuddering as his seed poured over his lover’s fingers.

He flopped back to the bed, dizzy and spent and deliriously happy, and purred contentedly in his throat as Russell bent over to kiss him.

“Good?” Russell said.

Ed opened his eyes, slowly. “Damn, Russ, that’s an understatement.”

Russell lay next to him, pulling Ed into his arms. “You’re gorgeous right now, you know that?”

“Can’t tell, Russ, I’m not looking in the mirror.”

Mirror . . . Suddenly, a realization hit him like a bolt out of the blue. They had one of those big mirrors, too, across from the bed. *That means Madame Marie can spy on *us*, he thought.

He stroked Russell’s hair. “Come in the bathroom with me,” he said. “I think we both need to get cleaned up.”

Russell shot him a quizzical look, but followed Ed into the next room. As soon as they were in, Ed shut the door.

“We’re going to have to be careful,” he said. “All our mission talk is going to have to be in here from now on. If we get caught, we’re gonna blow everything.”

“The mirror . . .” Russell said.

Ed nodded. “Are you going to see Mustang when you leave?”

“Yes, and your brother,” Russell said. “I’ll tell Mustang we *may* have something here.”

“And while you do that, I’m going down to that lounge Madame Marie showed me,” Ed said. “Try to talk to some of the other workers. Find out what the hell goes on around here.”

“Then we’ll meet back here tonight,” Russell said.

“Better get dressed up,” Ed replied, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror -- was he actually getting *used* to the sight of himself in this corset thing? “It’s a cocktail party for high-paying guests. Guess you meet *that* description. They’ll probably tell you about it on the way out.”

“They told you that when you came here?” Russell said.

Ed shook his head. “The woman who brought me downstairs told me. She’s one of the ones I want to talk to -- she’s on this floor right now.”

Russell nodded, and bent over for a kiss. “I’ll sleep here,” he said. “I won’t let you spend your first night in this place alone.”

“Hey, what makes you think I’d mind that, Russell?” Ed said, his voice fairly dripping sarcasm. “I sleep in houses full of people having sex with strangers all the time!”

“Well, then, we’ll just have to be louder than all of them, won’t we?” Russell said. He pulled Ed into his arms, holding him close. “Be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Russell,” Ed said. “Whoever’s holed up here, I can probably take them out in my sleep.” He gave his lover a kiss, then broke apart from him, reaching for a washcloth. He cleaned both of them up quickly and led Russell back into the bedroom.

Russell put his suit back on, Ed tied a black silk robe over his corset and underwear, and they headed for the stairs.

Madame Marie was in the parlor, seeing another guest off, and she turned and smiled when she saw them coming. “Hello, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said. “Are you pleased with our Thomas?”

“Madame,” Russell said, “more than I ever thought I would be.”

The businesswoman beamed like a cat who had been given a particularly large saucer of cream. “I’m so glad,” she said. “Now, you are very much invited to our cocktail party tonight, at nine sharp.”

“I’ll be there,” he said. He bent and kissed Madame Marie’s hand in a way that made Ed wonder if he’d been taking smoothness lessons from Roy Mustang, then raised Ed’s automail fingers and kissed them as well.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again,” Ed said.

As Russell left, Madame Marie put her hands on Ed’s shoulders. “Tom, it seems you’re getting off to an excellent start. I’m sure you’ll have a long, productive career with us.”

“Thank you, Madame,” he said.

*I’d rather French kiss Black Hayate,* he thought.

He turned and headed up the stairs. The spy network definitely gave him something to think about. It was the first piece of the puzzle. Now, if only the other workers would give him some other ones . . .

But before that, he was getting rid of that damn leather corset if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

There were four occupants in the lounge when Ed walked in -- the redhead who’d led him downstairs, a petite woman with bobbed black hair sitting on the couch next to the first woman, a boy a couple of years older than him with curly, dark hair, black eyes and a muscular build and a busty blonde with her hair in high pigtails. All were dressed casually -- except the blonde, who was wearing a knee-length black skirt and short-sleeved, scoop-necked blue blouse.

All conversation stopped and all heads swiveled in his direction. He just strolled in casually, flopping down on an overstuffed chair near the door.

The redhead was the first to speak. “Thomas, isn’t it?” she said.

“Yeah,” Ed said, stretching his blue jean-clad legs out in front of him. “Call me Tom. I don’t think I got your name before.”

“I’m Susan,” the redhead said. “This is Kate” -- she indicated the woman beside her -- “Mike, and Maggie.”

Kate nodded. Maggie waved. Mike just looked Ed up and down, as if sizing up the competition.

“So, what’s it like, working here?” Ed said. “This is my first time working in a *house*. I’m not quite sure what to expect.”

“Well, long as you keep your room clean and treat the customers nice, you’ll be fine,” Susan said, crossing her legs and leaning back against the seat cushions.

“What’s with the keeping your room clean thing?” Ed said. “Is that normal for a house?”

“Most places do have maids,” Kate said in a soft, melodious voice. “This arrangement *is* unusual, but Madame Marie . . .”

“Huh, she’s a cheapskate,” Mike said. “She just doesn’t want to pay for a maid, that’s all.”

“She gives us a bigger cut of the profits than most places do,” Susan retorted, leaning over in Mike’s direction. “That makes up for it.”

“She treats us *well,* Kate added.

“Eh, she treats *some* people better than others,” said Maggie, who had been silent until now.

This proved potentially interesting. “She has favorites?” Ed said.

“Pets, we call them,” Maggie said, reaching over to a dish of candy that was placed on the room’s central table. “Most of us, we have steady customers for two weeks every once in awhile, and then . . .”

“Chucked right back out into the general pool,” Mike said. “You take anything they send up to you, and it’s usually the lower-paying customers.” He gave Ed something of a sneer. “At least *you’ll* get the automail fetishists. They’re willing to pay more.”

“I knew a girl in another house who tried to hack off her own arm so she’d get automail and make more money,” Maggie said, scooping up a couple of the candy-covered chocolates in the dish and popping them in her mouth.

Ed felt a bit ill at that. He couldn’t imagine wanting to go through the ordeal of having automail if you didn’t *have* to. He’d endured it for Al’s sake alone.

“So,” he said, quickly, “about those ‘pets’ -- they’ve been working here a long time?”

“Most of them have,” Susan said. “One of them, April, has been here as long as Madame Marie has owned the place.”

Ed made a mental note to seek out this April. “And they get the highest-paying customers?”

“Oh, hell, yeah,” Maggie said. “Politicians, generals, millionaires, you name it. One of them would have gotten *your* sugar daddy if he didn’t have a thing for automail.”

*Gossip travels fast around this place,* Ed thought. *They’re worse than Mustang’s crew.*

“Interesting,” Ed said. “So how do you get to be a *pet*, anyway?”

“None of us have figured it out, really,” Susan said.

“Kiss her butt,” Mike said. “That’s how you get to be a pet.”

“Not necessarily,” said Kate. “I’ve seen a lot of people try to butter her up, and she brushes them off. Like, they volunteer to clean her office . . .”

Ed noticed Kate leaning a bit against Susan. He wondered if the two were lovers. He couldn’t imagine having a relationship with someone and also having sex with strangers for pay. It just reinforced his feeling that these people had to turn themselves into *objects* while on the job.

“Madame Marie doesn’t take volunteers to clean her office. She *chooses* who does it,” said Maggie. “It’s supposed to be a *privilege.*”

This set off alarm bells in Ed’s mind. Obviously, cleaning the office was a job reserved for “pets,” or candidates for “pet” status.

“Aren’t *you* supposed to be doing that tomorrow, Maggie?” said Susan, putting a hand on top of Kate’s and confirming Ed’s earlier suspicions.

“Yeah, and I *was* supposed to meet up with a friend,” Maggie said. “Some *privilege.*”

A golden opportunity suddenly presented itself in Ed’s mind. “Hey, how about I cover for you?”

All of them looked at him. “You? You just got here!” said Maggie.

“Madame Marie doesn’t *supervise* the cleaning of her office, does she?” said Susan.

“Well, no, she just hands over the key that morning,” said Maggie.

“So? There’s no reason Tom *can’t* do it for you,” Susan said.

“Besides, he’s so short that if anyone comes in, he can hide under her desk blotter,” Mike said with a smirk.

Ed leapt to his feet. “WHO’S SO SMALL HE COULD DROWN IN A RAINDROP?” he retorted. He decided he *really* didn’t like this guy.

“Mike, back off of him,” Maggie said. “Okay, Tom, you can do it. I’ll give you the key after she gives it to me tomorrow morning. And thank you *so* much, this means a *lot* to me.”

“So, who’s this you’re meeting up with?” Ed said. “A boyfriend?”

Maggie shook her head. “Just an old friend. But she doesn’t know what I do for a living.” She turned and waved. “Well, I’ve got to get ready for the cocktail party -- see you!”

“I think we *all* have to get ready,” Susan said as she got up, Kate following her. “We’ll see you downstairs, Tom.”

“Sure,” Ed said, starting to follow them out -- only to be stopped by Mike.

“Don’t you think this room-cleaning thing is going to automatically make you a pet,” he said.

Ed turned around. “Nah. It’s obvious *you’re* gunning to be one. And if being a pet means I have to work with *you* all the time, forget it,” he said. And he turned and stalked out of the room.

____________

Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. No profit is being made from this fanfic.