~\o I fell into a burning ring of fire ~\o Oh, ok, FINE.

[moonsheen]

Hughes rushed over just a few minutes after he’d heard the news by word of mouth, and by mouth of the neighbors passing by the open kitchen window, hurrying to get a look. When he arrived on the scene the commotion was already starting to die down though—smoke curling out of the window and several garden hoses returned to their rightful owners as the spectators started to trickle away. Roy was standing in the front yard, looking as hangdog as he could manage; and with his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders slumped, he looked so repentant it almost had Hughes going for a second, thinking something really bad had just gone down, until he caught his eye and knew, hah, /right/.

His mother didn’t look too happy though.

“Roy,” she was saying. “This is the third time this has happened this month. What are you doing up there?”

Her son looked about as bewildered as she did. He shrugged, and craned his head back—she beat some of the soot off of his shirt collar. “I think it’s my lamp,” he answered, frowning. “The outlet keeps sparking. We should get that looked at-”

“Oh, /Roy/.” She shook her head. “I keep telling you not to fiddle with that.”

“I’m sorry, mother...”

“I know, I know--look, there’s your father.” She breathed out and hurried off to greet her husband, just home from work and looking, well, not so much surprised as annoyed. Roy stared off after her with an expression of utter misery, up until Hughes walked up to him, and then he just closed his eyes and shrugged, mouth twitching. The boys stood side by side for a moment, perfect obedient silence between them, and then Roy’s father marched into the house, talking to his wife in one of those deep disgruntled voices that was hard to make out--gone get a good look at the damage for himself no doubt. The smoke just kept up drifting up and up and up, and the sky was starting to get a nice rose cast to it, and it wasn’t soot streaked over Roy’s wrist, Hughes noticed. It looked more like chalk.

“So,” he said finally, tucking his arms behind his head. The crowd had dwindled down to just a few, but he kept his voice low anyway; strictly business between schoolmates, nothing to see. “Told them about the alchemy thing yet?”

“Not a word.”

“Ah.” Hughes nodded and--damn, from there it looked like the blinds had melted. “Probably a good thing.”

Roy squinted into the sunset. “Yeah.” The corners of his lips turned up. “It probably is.”






Part of the blame for this goes to chirachira for aiding and abetting rampant speculation and getting a picture of a teenaged Roy (And Hughes, who clearly had always been known as such and would always be known as such) stuck in my head. Yes, yes Roy would look hot in a british school uniform, and yes, yes, the puns. are. intended. stupid. smug. alchemists. and I'm going to bed.

Comments

[halcyonjazz.livejournal.com]

Heeeeeeeeee! XD XD XD

You say it like it;s a bad thing. I personally giggle and grin and hug Hughes and Roy as young friends X3 X3 X3 (and you *do* know I'm just gonna keep speculating with you and get more fic outta you right? ♥ Thought so. =D)

*sniggers still*

[the-tower.livejournal.com]

'it was the lamp outlet, honest, mother' *twitch twitch*

ah, the fandom is in good hands. ^____^