Word Count: I honestly didn’t bother with this lol.
Characters: (Greed!)Ling/Ed (yes, Greed 2.0 makes appearances).
Summary: They balance one another – yin and yang – they say nothing when they say everything; they say everything when they say nothing at all.
Warnings: language, some naughtiness.
Notes: I think I have done these things for nearly every fandom I am active in. >.>; This is one of those fifty sentence things—this time, it’s fifty sentences about Ling and Ed. XD Credit goes to 1sentenceorder for the themeset used (I used Delta for this one).
“Do you know that when you breathe, you’re inhaling about fifteen different gasses?” Ed asks excitedly, frowning intensely when that stupid (incredible) squinty-eyed bastard calls him a nerd and leans over to kiss him, which causes Ed to forget all about the importance of those fifteen different gasses—just for a moment or two (or three).
“Greed doesn’t like apples,” Ling informs Ed as the blonde throws him one that is red and shiny and looks positively delicious; he then proceeds to share a wicked little grin with his companion and eats the offered fruit anyway, much to the displeasure of the homunculus sharing his body.
Ed’s not sure how it all began between them, except only he is: it all started with those slanted eyes and that dopey grin and those long arms wrapped securely around his waist, and Ed hasn’t looked back since then—hasn’t wanted to.
Ling does not consider himself a coward by any means (he’s clashed swords with the Fuhrer of Amestris, for crying out loud), though he does feel a bit deflated when Ed squashes a strange-looking beetle for him when he refuses to do so, insisting that he had servants back in Xing who happily took care of that particular problem all the time.
Their opinions differ on coffee: Ed needs it to function and Ling doesn’t care for it; so when Ed stumbles out of his tent all bleary-eyed to find that Ling has already brewed a pot of coffee and is offering a cup to him with a soft smile, Ed is a little surprised, and more than a little grateful.
Ling sometimes probes the darker corners of his mind (it’s Greed’s influence, he thinks) and he doesn’t often like what he finds there: when he gets lost in the darkness, Ed’s sharp tongue and gentle hands always find a way to bring him back to the light.
Ed knows quite well at this point what despair feels like, and he admits to himself that he feels little pangs of it in those moments when he glances at Ling and realize that it isn’t Ling at all.
Ed speaks of ‘doors’ and ‘gates’ and ‘the Truth’ from time to time, and Ling can’t pretend that he understands it all, but there’s an aura of palpable grief that radiates around the young alchemist when he mentions these topics, and all Ling wants to do during these moments is pull Ed close and tell him that, for him (if it were possible), Ling would leave all doors open.
It is Greed who drinks Ed under the table, but it is Ling who comes to him in the morning with a tall glass of water for the dehydration, a small cup of coffee for the necessary caffeine, and an aspirin for the fucking splitting headache.
Ling loves spending time with Ed not only because it’s amazingly easy and strangely exciting to push Ed’s buttons, but also – mostly – because when Ed does things for him, Ling knows it has absolutely nothing to do with ‘duty’.
Sometimes, Ed feels like their world spins a little too fast (too much is happening, too much has already happened), but in moments like this (when he and Ling are wrapped up in one another and everything is temporarily – but blissfully – silent), time slows down just long enough for him to remember to breathe and to have no regrets.
Ling knows that this thing between Ed and himself won’t – can’t – last forever—it’s going to end sometime, because he cannot remain here and he knows better than to ask Ed to join him in Xing, but when Ed’s fingers twine with his own, he likes to try to fool himself into thinking that this can become as permanent as the mountains of his home country.
Ed looks at Ling’s silly face and realizes with a start that he hadn’t known he was falling until it was too late—it’s happened now, and there’s nothing to grab onto on the way down.
Everywhere Ed touches, he ignites small fires all along Ling’s skin, and his mouth on Ling’s neck leaves trails of molten lava in its wake—if this is what it feels like to be consumed by flames, Ling is quite content to burn.
“You’re quite flexible,” Ling comments, and Ed – his legs thrown over Ling’s shoulders – blushes darkly, not bothering to comment on the strange positions that Ling seems to be able to contort himself into when they’re in the middle of… things.
‘Flying’ and ‘falling’ are two completely different things, Ling knows, but each time Ed flashes him that cheeky little grin, he is capable of believing that the two actions are – in actuality – synonymous.
Ed firmly believes that Ling could eat an individual out of house and home, but he doesn’t mind so much anymore when the prince flashes him those pitiful ‘feed me’ eyes of his—he simply hands over half of whatever he’s got without argument.
Honestly, considering how much Ling likes to tease Ed, he’s fairly surprised that he hasn’t gotten an automail foot to the face by this point.
Ed dreams only once of standing before Ling’s grave and he wakes up in a cold sweat (because Ling is fucking immortal now, he’s not supposed to die)—he’s only able to be comforted when Ling pulls him into his arms so that he can hear the steady thump-thump of his heart.
“It’s green,” Greed grumbles, while Ed screams at him that it’s supposed to be green since it’s pea soup, but once again, Ling goes hungry all thanks to Greed’s finicky tastes.
“I can’t see over your damn head,” Ed gripes, and Ling smiles at him before stepping to the side, while Ed wonders if it’s possible that Ling has grown even taller.
Ling sometimes thinks about how different it will be when he’s back in Xing – without Ed – and these thoughts leave him feeling surprisingly cold and empty.
Ling often speaks of his ‘honor’ and his duty to protect his people, and Ed can’t help but wonder where (or if) personal happiness fits in amongst those things.
Hope, Ling has realized (mostly thanks to the blonde currently nestled as close to him as he can possibly get), is a two-sided blade, both dangerous and impossibly warm--he’s also grown to realize that he’ll risk the danger of it any day, for this.
It’s daylight already and Ling is stirring beside him, but Ed is content to remain perfectly still for now—until he realizes with no small amount of discontentment that he is waking up to Greed this morning instead of Ling, and he nearly trips over his own feet in his scramble to get out of the damn tent.
“You don’t know where we’re going,” Ed says tersely, earning a growl from Greed, and Ling internally chuckles at the homunculus’ expense—Greed has indeed gotten them lost, but if he’d give Ling half the chance, Ling could get them on the right path again (and he suspects that Greed knows this; it’s why the homunculus is so pissed off).
“Sorry,” Ed apologizes quickly, jerking away once he manages to detangle Ling’s hair from where it got snagged in his automail; Ling doesn’t let him get very far, though.
Ling doesn’t quite understand why Ed always gives him this look (like Ling can’t be trusted or something) when Ling suggests that they try something new.
“You won’t have to worry about getting old anymore,” Ed says to Ling (rather absentmindedly), and he struggles to keep the sadness out of his voice (he fails).
Ling looks forward to the end of all of the fighting as much as any other (mostly) sane individual would, but he knows that peace will come with its own sacrifices, and he isn’t quite sure that he’s willing to give this up anytime soon.
Ed realizes belatedly that it’s no longer Ling he’s kissing but Greed (the bastard, worming his way into control at the most inopportune of moments), and he jerks away as if he’s just gotten poison on his tongue and his lips—Greed wasn’t invited, but he doesn’t seem at all fazed by Ed’s reaction.
“You’re very pretty when you’re all flustered,” Ling says matter-of-factly before swiftly dodging the heavy, muddy boot that Ed throws at him—honestly, the blond just doesn’t know how to take a compliment.
“Come out here with me,” Ling insists as he splashes in mud puddles like a little kid, and even though Ed is reluctant to leave the warmth and dryness of his tent, he does so anyway, simply because he has a horrible time trying to say ‘no’ to that damned adorable face that Ling makes.
Ling knows nothing of ‘regret’ right now, but he fears that he might, one of these days (when Ed has long since been buried and his own world continues on into empty eternity).
“I’m not a silly, naïve girl that you can try to woo,” Ed growls as Ling offers him a single red rose, but he takes it all the same, surprising the both of them in the process.
Ling doesn’t exactly keep his feelings for Ed a secret, and even though Ed will sometimes complain about it, Ling believes that Ed really doesn’t mind so much at all.
“If you were to get bitten by a snake, I’d suck the poison out for you,” Ling says cheerfully, but all Ed can manage is a dubious look—aimed in Ling’s direction, of course.
“We don’t get much of this back home,” Ling informs Ed, watching with a mixture of curiosity and fascination as the snowflakes fall.
Ling is as stubborn as Ed himself on most days, his will solid, unyielding—and on most days, it is actually Ed who winds up caving in.
Ling could have easily dodged Ed’s ‘surprise attack’ (which was really no surprise at all) if he so chose, but they end up tumbling onto Ed’s sleeping bag together in a mess of tangled hair and half-strewn clothes and spilled-over laughter instead.
On some days, Ed is off-kilter and flitting from one emotion to the next, anything but stable—it is on these days, he finds, that he needs Ling the most.
Ling knows that his relationship with Ed is more than a little strange—it doesn’t fit within the category of ‘normal’ at all… but then again, in Ling’s opinion, ‘normal’ is quite boring.
Ed can’t help but feel the tiniest ray of hope when Ling tells him, “I’ll have to show you what Xing looks like in the summer.”
“Isn’t doing… you know… stuff… with other guys kinda taboo where you’re from?” Ed asks (probably more out of curiosity than anything else), and Ling grins at the blush gracing the blonde’s cheeks, leaning down and kissing him softly—and at this point, an answer isn’t really required.
“That is one hell of an ugly shirt,” Ed says flatly, gesturing towards the offending material currently covering Ling’s chest (not that Ling can really be blamed—it was Greed who picked it out).
Ling isn’t an idiot: he knows that they are in the middle of a war and that Ed is mortal; he just refuses to believe the worst-case scenario could ever happen (maybe it’s the optimist in him).
“The water’s fine,” Ling purrs invitingly, and Ed blames his sudden bout of dizziness on the heat of the water as opposed to the heat of Ling’s gaze.
Sometimes – only sometimes – Ling lets his mind drift into dangerous places, like scenarios in which Ed is always, always there to welcome him home.
It’s the middle of winter and it feels like it’s forty below out here, but Ed has to admit that Ling’s smoldering kisses and wandering hands are a damn good distraction from the cold.
Ling knows that Ed could go back to the relative warmth of his tent – it only takes one person to gather firewood after all – but Ed chooses instead to stay, and they gather firewood together in a tender, comfortable silence that speaks volumes.