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Ed leaned closer, because the colonel spoke quietly, politely. He didn't want to disturb any of his staff or spread around the brothers' story unnecessarily. ...He smelled nice, just like his handkerchief had. ...There wasn't anything weird about thinking that, right? That the colonel wore cologne and it seemed very fatherly somehow and smelled nice and that Ed liked it. It wasn't strange. It couldn't be. (Damn, if he had to spend this much time convincing himself that it was normal, then it most certainly wasn't.)
"Edward?" Colonel Kimblee asked. There was a mild, inquisitive look in his golden eyes.
"Uh-" Ed mumbled stupidly. Obviously he'd been a lot more spaced out by his musings over the colonel's preferred scent than he'd realized. ...There was no good way to explain this away, was there?
"You're listening to me, aren't you?" He still seemed curious, not mad. Which, Ed supposed, was good. For some reason, he thought that his superior officer was meant to get mad in this sort of situation. Maybe he just watched too many movies. Colonel Kimblee didn't prescribe to the rote standard when it came to military commander behavior...or anything else, come to think of it. From the things he did and said, he gave Ed the impression that it was an alchemist's prerogative to be eccentric. The only other State Alchemist he'd had the chance to meet, Major Armstrong, was much the same way in that regard. Together, Armstrong and Kimblee made quite the dandy pair (though there was some vague, unknowable thing in their pasts that ran a fracture of discomfort through their relationship).
"Yeah, I am," Ed said. He could think of a million things and still listen. Why not?
Colonel Kimblee pursed his lips. He appeared vaguely amused. Suddenly Ed was sure he knew exactly what the colonel would say next. "H-hey," he attempted to cut off his question, "I really am listening. Don't ask me, "Repeat what I just said," like I'm some kind of kid."
"Kid or not, I wasn't planning on it," the colonel answered diplomatically. "What I did wonder, was if there's something on your mind you'd like to talk about. You seem distracted and I assume there's a reason for it."
Ed's gaze shifted awkwardly around the room. Sergeant Major Fuery was clicking away furiously at the typewriter. First Lieutenant Hart was digging through her desk drawers for some elusive item. As the silence between the two men lengthened, Hart raised her eyes to peer at them.
"Off the clock," Colonel Kimblee added by way of explanation. "I'll buy you ice cream."
"You do think I'm a little kid!" Ed huffed. Lieutenant Hart stifled a laugh in the arm of her sleeve.
The colonel was unaffected by this outburst. "What would you like instead then?" he asked. "I can't take you out drinking."
"I thought you didn't go out drinking, Colonel!" Second Lieutenant Havoc interrupted. "You always say you don't drink when I ask you to come along as my wing man!"
"I don't think the colonel is cut out to be a wing man," Lieutenant Hart commented.
"As I'm sure you already knew, this is why I thought it would be best to take you out somewhere," Colonel Kimblee addressed Ed, brushing off the flippant remarks of his subordinates.
Ed relented slightly. "Ice cream's fine. ...If you're having some too."
"Of course." The colonel leaned forward over his desk and held out his hand for Ed to shake. "I'll wrap things up early and meet you outside the office at fifteen hundred hours, if that suits you."
"It's good," Ed swallowed a little harder than was strictly necessary as the colonel clasped his hand. Even though it was his automail hand Colonel Kimblee held, and that covered by his glove, Ed's heart increased its pace to jump along just a bit faster.
The colonel was nearly always smiling, but his smile now seemed bigger, perhaps, or brighter. "It's a date then," he agreed, giving Ed's hand a squeeze.
"You're going to spoil your dinner!" the colonel laughed at the two-scoop chocolate and sprinkles concoction that Ed had ordered. "This is what happens when a boy your age doesn't have any parents around."
"What? Are you going to try and stop me?" There was an underlying rebellious streak in Ed's personality that flared up from time to time. Part of him wanted the colonel to challenge him, to have that argument about whether or not he was independent and should be treated like an adult, able to make his own decisions.
But Colonel Kimblee never rose to the bait. "No. It's up to you. You can eat what you like." Sometimes he showed annoyance, but Ed had never seen him actually what he'd describe as "mad." It made Ed wonder what he'd be like angry. Would he really erupt? Had Hart or Fuery or Havoc ever seen him mad? Maybe it would be worthwhile to ask.
Inevitably, the colonel's ice cream selection was modest- a single scoop of vanilla in a cup. "Get a topping," Ed tried to convince him, taking his first sloppy licks of his overloaded snack.
"I usually stick with something plain."
"A little chocolate every once in a while is good for you," Ed encouraged him.
The colonel leaned down and licked the top of Ed's cone. "Hmm. Well, that is a fairly convincing endorsement. I suppose you've managed to change my mind." Ed was sure his eyes were the size of his ice cream scoops over Kimblee's nonchalant action. "Add some chocolate sprinkles to that," the colonel directed the girl behind the counter.
Realizing he was staring and wanting to amend the faux pas before the colonel commented on it, Ed dropped his gaze to the top of his ice cream cone. The smooth mark left by Colonel Kimblee's tongue as it ran over the chocolate surface glimmered slightly. Ed stared at that instead. If he licked his ice cream now, where the colonel had licked it...wouldn't that be sort of like an indirect kiss?
"It's not too warm today, but it'd be best if you didn't let that melt," Colonel Kimblee warned him. He pulled out his wallet and unrolled a carefully folded bill for the cashier.
"Y-yeah," Ed agreed. Geez, what was with him these days? He wasn't some stupid love-struck girl. He licked the ice cream and attributed the shiver that he felt to the cold rather than his emotional state.
"Good suggestion," the colonel approved of Ed's alteration of his snack as they stepped outside to sit at a round, metal table.
"Thanks for treating me."
"You're welcome. Though I wouldn't dream of going out together any other way." Ed found himself entranced by the way the colonel's tongue played around the edge of his spoon. (Did he realize how attractive he looked or was Ed the only one who thought that?) "Sometime I'll have to invite you and Alphonse over to my apartment. I'll make sure you eat right. I'll cook you dinner myself."
"Al might be a little disappointed since he can't eat... But I, uh, I didn't know you could cook."
"A confirmed bachelor has to be able to take care of himself, does he not?"
"Uh, I'd...I'd come over if you invited me. It'd be kind of neat to eat your cooking." Ed kept looking down because every meeting between his eyes and the colonel's felt too meaningful, too intense. "I don't think you're the kind of guy who would burn everything."
"I'm a decent cook," Kimblee confirmed this statement. "So, now tell me what it is you want to talk about."
"Damn, maybe this really isn't any easier out here." Ed shifted in his seat. A trickle of chocolate ice cream ran down the side of the cone onto his white glove. He dabbed at it self-consciously, noting the stain it left behind.
"Although I'm your superior officer, I hope that in some manner, Edward, I'm also your friend and that you know you can tell me anything and it will be kept in the utmost confidence."
"I trust you, Colonel." Certainly, more than he trusted most members of the military. "It's just hard to say..."
"I can wait for as long as you need me to. You know I'm a patient man." He transferred the main focus of his attention away from the blond boy back to his ice cream.
It would probably be easier to say if the colonel wasn't looking at him. In that case, this was his chance. Ed took a deep breath. "This is going to sound really stupid, but I think I'm falling in love with you."
Ed held his breath. There was a moment of silence as the object of his affections swallowed.
"Don't you think you're a little young for me?" the colonel raised a skeptical eyebrow (it was typical of him to take the suggestion seriously, but react in a subdued manner). "And then there are the anti-fraternization laws to consider."
What did this mean? That the colonel had considered the possibility himself? Or did he just think that fast on his feet? "I-" Ed fumbled for words that were not quick in coming. "I, uh...Damn, I don't know about that kind of stuff. I just know I'm having trouble focusing around you because you're so nice to us, and it feels like you're being especially nice to me, and you look at me like you understand everything I'm feeling, and you're sort of handsome in an older guy sort of way, and you smell really good. Don't make me say this shit."
"Ah. I see."
Now his lack of reaction was starting to make Ed's blood boil, "Don't you feel anything about that?! Are you embarrassed or turned off or do you like me back? Say something, you heartless bastard colonel!"
"Well, that's not very nice. Really, Edward, I wish you would watch your language," Kimblee sniffed. "And while I find your affections flattering, I really can't return them."
"To hell with the laws and all that!" Ed scowled, "How do you feel, just one man to another?"
"Edward, I like you very much, but I think we should continue this conversation at a later date when you're able to calm down a bit. Are you available tomorrow night? Here," Kimblee took a pen and notepad out of his jacket pocket and dashed off his phone number, "Call me tomorrow and I'll pick you up. I'll take you home for that dinner I promised."
Talk about mixed signals. "C-Colonel," Ed stuttered as Kimblee rose to leave.
"And do mind that melting ice cream, Edward. You don't want it to leave a permanent stain."
It had been sort of embarrassing to tell Al about his dinner plans. Whenever someone gifted Ed, or if they didn't realize, the two of them, with a special meal, Ed couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt that there was no way for him to share this experience that his brother desperately missed. And then there was an added awkwardness tot his meeting, a tiny layered on top of the scenario by Ed's own restless feelings. Colonel Kimblee had rebuffed him (sort of), but that didn't mean he had stopped viewing this meal as a potentially romantic situation.
Al understood his older brother well enough to catch onto some of this. He wasn't afraid to express his reservations, but at the same time, he knew Ed would ultimately do as he liked.
The colonel picked him up in a cab. Ed was starting to suspect he didn't own a car. Not that it mattered. Colonel Kimblee was low-key but convivial for the duration of the ride. "I know you don't like milk, but eggs are alright, aren't they? And cheese?"
"Yeah, they're fine."
"I hope you'll like what I'm planning on cooking for you. And I hope you've got an appetite ready too, because it won't take long to make."
"I'm ready. I've been looking forward to this."
"Oh, so that's one meal you don't want to spoil," Kimblee shared a smile with him. He seemed to appreciate the special attention Ed had paid to their dinner engagements.
Ed didn't want to say anything too loud and stupid in front of the cab driver, so the short drive ended in silence. Anticipation set him aquiver. He had never been inside the colonel's apartment before. ...What would it be like? What facets of the colonel might it reveal?
"After you," Kimblee escorted him up the stairs and into his modestly proportioned home?
A small, "Oh," escaped Ed's lips as he looked around. The place was very neat and simple, with an emphasis on the color white in its furnishings. There were shelves filled with books (par for the course with an alchemist) and an upright piano. On the table, a vase of red gerbera daisies brought a splash of color into the room.
"Please, make yourself at home. I'll go get started."
Ed gave some vague grunted assent, straying over to the piano. He didn't realize that the colonel could play. There was no sheet music out. One framed photo decorated the top of the piano. Colonel Kimblee (younger), grinning, with his arm around the shoulders of an unsmiling fellow youth in military uniform. It was kind of funny that his friend didn't put on a cheerier expression for the picture.
Ed wandered around. It was hard to decide where to look first, even with the relative scarcity of the decorations. If it had seemed just a tad friendlier, Ed could have imagined his mother living there. Perhaps it was slightly impersonal because the colonel wasn't home much. Ed knew he spent long hours at the office and longer hours at the library. Living along like this though he could imagine one might not want to rush home to nobody. "You should get a pet, Colonel," he called into the kitchen, although he wasn't sure Kimblee would hear him. "A dog, maybe."
"I prefer cats."
Ed smiled. That did sound more like Colonel Kimblee. The young alchemist moved up to the window and peeked through the lightweight, white curtains. The view was nothing exceptional. Ed found himself staring into the sides and windows of the buildings of Central, but even in those places where he could peek through the glass somewhere, there was nothing more exciting to attract his eye than boxes in a warehouse.
He paused in front of the bedroom door, closed most of the way, but just not quite... From the kitchen came distant sounds of sizzling and clinking. Could he take a peek without getting caught? Ed had done enough sneaky things in his life to bet he could get away with it, even on the colonel's home turf, with his watchful eyes so nearby.
The door didn't creak as he pushed on it- good. After one last stolen glance, Ed darted into the unlit room. He took a deep breath; waited for his eyes to adjust. Large shapes became visible at first- a dresser, a bed, more shelves full of books. There was a full-length mirror on the closet door- Ed would've liked to tease the colonel about that (could a legitimate opportunity arise? He liked to think it could).
A lamp, his medal from Ishval, another vase of flowers. Actually, Ed was a little disappointed. If Colonel Kimblee's bedroom held any secrets, they were tucked away, not left tantalizingly out in the open. Except... Another photograph caught his attention. The colonel, even younger than he had appeared in the picture on the piano, dressed in a pristine, white suit. A boy who couldn't have been much older than Ed, similarly (though more colorfully) dressed, leaned close to him. That there was affection between them was apparent. An old friend? Ed grasped at possibilities. A...lover? A tidbit of past conversation cleared jealousy from his mind- his brother. "I used to have a younger brother too," the colonel had said. Brotherly love was something he understood.
Why tuck his picture away then? There were a few possibilities, but Ed tentatively settled on the one that pleased him most. It would be like if Al died. The loss would devastate him. Years later, he wouldn't want to expose his deepest heart to just anyone, even among those he would allow into his home. Ed hoped he'd have the chance to talk to the colonel about that too. Maybe that was another reason the colonel recoiled from romantic interaction. Ed was kind of a surrogate little brother. ...How, after all, had the colonel's brother died?
"Edward, it's ready-"
Shit. Ed scrambled to get out and reposition the door as Colonel Kimblee had left it. He folded his arms and tried to act nonchalant.
When his eyes met the colonel's though, Ed was sure he knew. Ed considered himself a good liar, and past experience had proved that judgment mostly apt, but he hadn't been able to get one past the colonel yet. How did he, time and time again, see through his handpicked charge? Could other people successfully lie to Kimblee?
"Who's your reluctant buddy?" Ed flicked his head toward the picture on the piano. He knew the diversion would only work if the colonel allowed it to, but that was good enough for him.
"Roy Mustang. We were colleagues in-"
"Ishval," Ed finished his sentence. He knew of the man. Mustang had been called the Flame Alchemist. Supposedly, he'd massacred hundreds of Ishvalans single-handedly without a wince. Alchemy-wise, he was said to have been very good. He was incarcerated now. He had been since prior to the end of the war. Total nut-job, he'd heard. Maybe this picture and its public display were actually stranger than the other.
"Not quite what the official reports made him out to be, unfortunately." Kimblee placed his hand on Ed's shoulder and steered him toward the round dining table. "He was a little over-harsh, perhaps, but all of us were guilty of that in Ishval. He was a lovely man."
"There's no one you can't find something nice to say about, is there?" Ed laughed.
"I'm sure there's someone," the colonel shrugged, "But most people tend to possess at least one or two admirable qualities. I find my fellow human beings to be infinitely interesting."
"Ha ha," Ed sat down at the table, "This is dinner?" On his plate appeared to be a grilled cheese sandwich topped with an egg, sunny side up. On the side of the plate were a few orange slices and a bit of sausage.
"I like eggs," Kimblee answered. "I guess this provides you with an understanding of what bachelor cooking is like. I'm quite adept with a frying pan."
"Coffee too." It smelled strong, but that was how Ed liked it. "With dinner."
"If you're afraid it will keep you up, I can pour you some juice."
"No, coffee's fine. It matches this, uh, bachelor breakfast sandwich." Ed reached toward the sandwich.
"Your gloves may get greasy," Kimblee warned him. He was a stickler for good manners, but he understood why, in public, Ed would prefer not to take his gloves off. Here, in the privacy of the colonel's apartment, was different. Ed pulled both off and set them aside.
It was true that the sandwich was a bit greasy, but it was also good. Ed sprinkled some pepper on top of it, took another bite, then added more. One section of egg white began to drip perilously over the side of the bread.
"My brother liked a lot of pepper too," the colonel explained and let out a low chuckle.
Well, since he had brought it up. "What was his name?"
"Lon." Although his answer was terse, the colonel maintained his pleasant demeanor. If Ed were to guess, he'd say he was happy because his guest was happy. Even if the colonel wasn't willing to quite close that gap leading to romantic interaction, Ed still loved to be alone with him. There was no denying that the colonel liked him a lot. Specially. The colonel's scent was effaced now by the warm odors of coffee, eggs, and cheese. Ed imagined what it would be like to live with him. He'd probably eat better if he had the colonel's culinary efforts to look forward to every day.
But if he wanted to pursue his lead about Lon Kimblee, he couldn't allow himself to drift off into weird mushiness just yet. "Did you, uh, lose him a long time ago?"
"Before Ishval. He was young." The colonel stared into his coffee like it was a crystal ball and he could uncover some significant message there. Maybe, if it was the past he wanted to see, not the future, he could. "Al reminds me of him."
Al. That was heartening. "Al likes you too," Ed said. It sounded a little stupider once he heard it out loud than it had in his head.
"Plus, when I see Winry, it's like getting to have a younger sister too."
The colonel ate so neatly. As he nibbled on an orange slice over his vaguely smeared plate, Ed stared at the crumbs, grease, and glops of egg littering his own dish. He tried to scoop the larger fragments up with his fork. "It seems like you're feeding me a lot these days. Is there, uh, anything I can do to make it up to you?"
"Please, just continue to follow my orders as you have. You're part of my team, Edward, and a very brave man taught me the importance of looking after my own. I've got your back."
Ed swallowed his last bit of egg. "Give me some orders then," he made a cheeky attempt at initiating something. "Whatever they are, I'll fill them. And afterward, you can declare it a top secret matter and swear me to secrecy." Did the colonel realize he'd just licked his lips? Damn, Ed wished he'd volunteer that slippery tongue of his for a kiss.
"I am not about to abuse my authority," the colonel said, though he was unperturbed and still smiling.
"I wish you would," Ed groaned, but that just set the colonel to laughing.
"I assure you," Kimblee rose, scooping up and stacking the dishes, "You do make it tempting."
"Oh, for crying out loud!"
The colonel dipped down as he passed behind Ed and kissed the back of his ear. That sensitive touch, that whiff of cologne, that clear (clear?) avowal of more than platonic affection- it made Ed shiver. There was a spring in Kimblee's step as he carried his small load to the sink.
It took Ed a moment of hyperventilating before he could summon up a response. "You bastard!" he jumped to his feet. (There was no reason his answer had to be poetic.)
"Well, as least I'm not abusing my authority and ordering you not to act on your feelings for me." Ed could see that self-satisfied grin stretched across the colonel's face as he turned on the sink. "I wouldn't need to order you as your superior officer to get what I wanted, Edward Elric. I know all your secrets- and you know none of mine."
"Just like the Red Lotus, huh? You love to start a fireworks show, but you won't get in on the action," Ed scoffed, hoping to provoke a more passionate reaction from his commander (failing that, at least yelling about it would help him blow off steam). He marched over onto the tile to stand behind the colonel.
"Some clichés abide for a reason," the colonel said. He turned off the water and dried his hands. "If you can't stand the heat," Kimblee whirled around, surprising Ed so that he stumbled backward. He pinned the boy against the cupboard, "Stay out of the kitchen."