let's get a dog they said it'll be fun they said

end-up-well  asked:

Number 46 for Royai I think it'll be fun :D

#46, “If you love it so much, then why don’t you marry it?” for Royai


Roy ran his hands through his hair, clutched it between his fingers and tugged on it hard enough to feel the pain but not rip any follicles out of his scalp.   He needed the distraction to from the headache forming at the base of his skull. “Why can’t you just wear the damned uniform?   It’s the least offensive fashion choice you have available to you.”

“I’m not a soldier.   I will never be a soldier.  I don’t want anyone even thinking I’d compromise on that!  ”  Edward Elric would not be swayed.  “And my fashion choices represent that I am a unique individual with impeccable taste who is not afraid to make a statement.  Also, red is bad ass.”

“The only statement it makes is that you dress yourself and want people to notice you…”  Roy said and closed his eyes.   “So you don’t get stepped on.”

“And you just wear your trench coat like a cape because you’re too lazy to put your arms in the sleeves? Please.   The uniform is too drab for you too.“  Ed countered.  

Maes Hughes was enjoying the show.   He was sitting on the couch with Al and watching the argument play out, both of them keeping score on notebooks to declare who was the winner of the debate when it was all over.    Eventually Roy would play dirty and just threaten to freeze Ed’s spending account or perhaps dry up his source of information involving the philosopher’s stone, but for now they would enjoy the second Fullmetal vs. Flame battle here in the office.   They might have been amused, but he could see from Hawkeye’s face she was getting annoyed with the duration of this discussion.   He chewed on his lip as he thought of a way to keep her from ending this by stepping in on Roy’s behalf.

“Stop changing the topic, Ed!  This is about the military ball!  Four hours of your life where you have to play the part of an adult and do what your superior officer is asking you to do and change into presentable clothing.”  Roy exclaimed and let go of his hair in order to slap his hands down on the table.  “It’s a dress uniform, it’s meant to make you look proper not conform.  For god’s sake Fullmetal,  that watch you pride yourself on is more of a symbol of your commitment to the military than any uniform.     If anything you should want to wear the uniform because it will make you look taller and you get to carry a sword!”

Al scratched a point into Mustang’s column on his score card.  

“It should offend you that I would dress up like a soldier at all!”  Ed snapped.   “I am the worst soldier you have!  I never listen, I destroy everything and I speak out against the military wherever I go!”

“I noticed.”  Roy said and leaned back in his chair.  “However, maybe you are exactly what the papers call you…a ‘Hero of the people’.    An alchemist who works for the people and isn’t a government errand boy.  A Major in the military who protects the ones who need it the most.   Maybe you’re not in uniform, but you still have your title and watch and that is far more condemning than any gabardine coat.  In the eyes of Amestris you are a military dog no matter what color you wear.”

“Are you trying to get me to quit?” Ed asked.  

“You wanted attention, you got everyone’s attention.”  Roy replied.  “Now the top brass and the Amestrian elite want to see you, Fullmetal Alchemist.  They want to see this kid who was the youngest ever to become a state alchemist.      They want to determine if you are a threat or an asset, but more importantly they want to capitalize on your fame and popularity and show you off.   You’re not some research alchemist, you’re a weapon.  That makes people nervous because weapons with a mind of their own can become liabilities.   They fear another Kimblee, especially one who starts out as a loose cannon like you have.   You in a uniform shows that there is some degree of control over you and also stirs up some pride in the nation who you represent in the starched blue frock you’re going to damn well wear to that ball.”

Ed crossed his arms. He could feel himself losing this battle, but dammit if he was going to just agree to dress up for this shit.  “If you love it so much, then why don’t you marry it?”

“Because he’s going to marry Hawkeye.”  Hughes piped in. You’re not going to win that easily Roy.  

And Al had to grudgingly give his brother a scratch in his column when he saw the startled and embarrassed reactions to Hughes’s comment from the Colonel and Lieutenant.  

Ed seized the moment, jumping towards the desk and slamming his hands into it like a large cat pouncing on it’s prey.   He grinned, “So that’s why you’re so interested in this ball, because you can go on a date?”

“He’s passionate about his balls.” Hughes added and could see Roy’s fingers twitch, the motion of a snap before he just curled his hand into a fist out of frustration.   He wasn’t wearing gloves, but the motion made the desired statement. Hughes didn’t care and gave him a wink, he could see Roy thinking about throwing his coffee cup at him.      Hawkeye glared at him, he could feel it but he wasn’t going to break eye contact with Roy. Yeah, he just might have bet on Ed because the odds were really damned good.

Roy’s eyes shifted away from his asshole best friend and looked instead to the teenager leaning on his desk celebrating a victory all too soon.   “Actually my interest in getting you to the ball was so that you could have a date, with your mechanic.”

Hughes heard Al’s pencil scratch a win mark in Roy’s column,  he didn’t even have to look to know that  was who got the point.  Ed’s short lived victory grin was gone, his cheeks were bright red and his mouth was hanging open hoping words would just fall off his tongue and save him from this awkward situation.   He leaned forward to say something but Hawkeye stepped in front of him to block his view and remove him from the situation. Dammit!  Riza always swept in to save Roy!  Lucky bastard!

Riza placed her hand on Ed’s shoulder and leaned close to his ear.  “Edward, Winry does a lot for you and it would be nice if you treated her to an evening out like this.   Of course it doesn’t have to be a date, the Colonel and I are just going together as superior and subordinate, but it is still an honor to be escorted to the Central Military Ball by the person you support.   Think of how happy she would be to spend the evening with you, to see how important you are and have you tell these very important people who made your automail. Think of how excited she would be to wear a ball gown.”

Hughes sat back in to the couch and threw up his hands in a sign of defeat. Ed couldn’t see him but Roy could, and he watched that smug smirk tug at the corner of his mouth and the sideways glance that screamed ‘checkmate, bitch’.   Hawkeye was speaking low, but the room was so quiet they could hear the ticking of Ed’s watch from inside his pocket.  That was done on purpose, Hawkeye was the master of silent but deadly attacks and it was no different when she chose to fight with words.   She could have whispered, but this was for his ears as well, to tell him this debate was over.  He still had one more play though and he looked at Roy, held up his hand and pointed to his own wedding ring before pointing at Hawkeye and mouthing the words, 'If you love her so much maybe you should marry her’.

Al added a scratch in the win column for Hughes as Mustang’s smirk faded and he broke eye contact with Hughes.  

“What do you say, Edward?”  Riza asked as she stood up straight and raised her voice back to normal.   “Would you like to use the office phone to call Winry and ask her to the ball?  I’ll make everyone leave so you can have some privacy. “

“Yeah….I guess.”  Ed said and stood there in amazement as he realized he just committed to going to a dance with Winry.  

“That’s wonderful Edward, I’d love to have someone to go dress shopping with.”  Riza said and turned to Roy and pointed to the door to tell him to get out and not say another word.

Al circled Mustang’s name on his paper it denoting him the winner.   Hughes reached over and grabbed his pencil, wrote in 'Mr. and Mrs.’ above Mustang and flashed a smile before standing up.  Al chuckled a little and Ed shot him a dirty look, assuming it was because he was going on a date with Winry.   He got up and followed Hughes out and they waited on Mustang, who slapped Hughes in the chest with the back of his hand as he exited his office.

“Asshole.” Roy hissed.

“Still going to be your best man someday, I just would like that someday to come before you’re too old and deaf to hear my speech.”  Maes replied and slung his arm over his best friend’s shoulder.  “So where do you want to go eat for lunch?”

Tacoma Knight 2

A/N: This one is in both perspectives. I’ve separated them with dashes. 

Warnings: None.


It’s been a few days since Happy, or as I like to call him, Mr Sexy Biker defended my honor at work. A few days since he’s had my number. I couldn’t even believe when he asked for it. Like, Me? Really? Have you seen me? I’m not exactly your model type. But he said he’d been wanting to ask me out. I still can’t believe it.

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anonymous asked:

the ban on pitt bulls in montreal just got delayed!! it kind of inspired a fic idea though- let's pretend jack still lives in montreal and has a beloved pitt that he adores but he's scared it'll get repossessed with the ban. so he posts an ad for someone to adopt his dog temporarily until he can figure something out. enter bitty! who ends up falling in love with the dog! and then the dog's owner! idk i just really love dogs

I love dogs too, pal.  This prompt gave me so many feelings about my dog oh boy. fun fact: Jack and Bitty’s arrangement is similar to the one my cousin has with the family that adopted her bunny!

Jack held Puck on his lap, not bothered by the fact that she was really too big for it.  Ordinarily, he’d tried to keep her off the furniture in the living room and certianly in other people’s homes, but since the news of his trade from the Falconers to the Habs, he hadn’t found hmself able to deny her anything.  Eric Bittle, to his credit, didn’t seem to mind.  With the possibility of Montreal banning pitbulls looming, he’d been forced to find her a new home.  It had broken his heart every time he looked at her big happy eyes and known that he’d have to give her up.  One night, he’d thought crazily of saying fuck it and giving up hockey instead.  But in the end, he’d  put word out that his dog needed a loving home, and a couple days later, he had an email from Eric Bittle, offering to meet up and discuss an open adoption.

As bitter as he was about the whole thing, he had to admit that Eric seemed great.  He was warm, and friendly, and unbearably cute.  Puck took to him immediately, licking Eric all over his face when he crouched down to say hello.  Jack had appologized, but Eric had just laughted and made kissy faces back at her, scratching behind her ears.  When they’d both turned big brown eyes on him, he’d felt his heart skip.

They’d made small thalk over pie and coffee, with homemade dog treats for Puck.  Eventually Jack had asked what Eric meanty by open adoption.

“Oh!  I guess maybe I should’ve explained more over email.  Um, I was thinking, you know, you might not be in Montreal forever, or the ban could go away and maybe…you’d want her back?  And for the time being, I could, um, send you pictures and videos of her, and when you play in the area or during the off season you could…visit?  Of course if you wanted to do a closed adoption, that’s fine too.  Just…” Eric finally took a breath and let it out, a little shakily.  “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, and I just want to make it as easy for you as possible.”

Jack was surprised to see that Eric’s eyes were a little wet.  “Thank you,” he said, not able to make himself ashamed of his own choked up voice.  “I - If you really don’t mind, open adoption sounds perfect.”  He ruffles Puck’s ears.  “I never get to see her much during the season, but I can’t really imagine her just being gone.”  Eric reached out and rubbed a hand up and down Jack’s back.  The comfort of the touch loosened the ball of tension in his chest just enough that a sob tore out of his throat.  He was a little embarrassed to be crying on a stranger’s couch, but Eric just handed him some tissues and kept rubbing circles between his shoulderblades while Puck snuggled closer.

After he recovered his composure, he turned to Eric.  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  Eric squeezed his shoulder before withdrawing his hand.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you even think about it.  This is a hard decision and you have every right to cry about it.”

“Thank you.”

“Ain’t nothing.”

For the rest of the afternoon, they talked about Puck’s favorite parks, her typical exercise (”I try to take her with me on my short runs.” “Oh, that’s perfect!  I try to get in a few miles after work.”) and the basics of Snapchat (”And see, now you tap on the little pink box next to my name -” “What are the purple ones?” “Those are on my story.” “Story?” “…Good Lord, you are a terrible millennial.”)

By the time he had to say goodbye, Jack had even forgotten to be sad.  Eric just felt like a normal part of his life.  But evenutally it was late and Jack had probably overstayed his welcome, so he excused himself, citing an early flight, and gave Puck a hug goodbye and some final pets.  He told himself that at least she wouldn’t be scared tonight.  She was used to spending time with sitters.  As he started up his car, his phone buzzed with an incoming Snapchat.  It was a picture of Puck stretched out on Eric’s couch, captioned “well someone’s making herself at home”.  Jack took a screenshot the way Eric had showed him and put the car in drive.

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