Warning: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, or any related characters.

Ed couldn't think how he had gotten here. Loud music (produced from alchemically enhanced speakers) poured through the Armstrong Ballroom, and the lights were subtly dimming as the night went on. All around him, more happy-go-lucky military members celebrated the chance to be informal (especially with their superiors), and everyone was, of course, dancing.

Edward, on the other hand, was attempting to blend in with the walls of the corner he was currently occupying—with only moderate success.

He and Alphonse had heard about Major Armstrong's little dance, and had tried valiantly to avoid the man since then. But just this morning, he had finally caught up to the brothers, sparkling and going on about how his ability to dance and plan excellent parties has been passed down for however many generations. Edward was fairly certain the Major had actually dragged them to his home.

Ed sighed. At least Al, who was currently visible in the center of the ballroom, seemed to be having fun. Edward had no idea where his little brother had learned to dance—or even when he would have had the chance to enjoy it—but he wasn't going to make Alphonse leave.

And so, the alchemist was stuck being a wallflower.

It wasn't that Ed didn't like to socialize; while it wasn't his number one pastime, he wasn't afraid to talk to people. Of course, he would rather be doing something useful than relaxing here, but if he had to he could. No, the problem was that Edward couldn't dance.

He hadn't ever danced, not really, not even before his automail. Maybe when he was very young, the blonde would have jumped about to a tune on the radio, or swayed in time with his mother's humming. But now that half of Ed's limbs were metal, well, he didn't want to try dancing even if he could make the time.

So his plan was to hang out in his corner until it was suitable to leave. Unfortunately, Edward didn't count on Major Armstrong's intervention.

"Edward Elric!" Oh shit. There was no mistaking that voice. Ed looked up to see the Major coming towards him, eyes wide. "Why are you not dancing?"

"I, uh…can't dance." The alchemist was hesitant to admit this, but if it would get Armstrong off his back, so be it.

"Nonsense!" the Major boomed. "Everyone can dance!" His hand closed around Edward's arm, clearly about to drag him onto the dance floor.

Thinking fast, Ed half-shouted in desperation: "But I don't have a partner!"

This froze Armstrong, and so Edward kept going. "I can't possibly dance without a partner."

Ed truly thought he had won the battle when Major Armstrong simply turned, pulling him along the wall. "Well, then, let's see if we can't find you one!"

They traveled half-way around the ballroom, Edward protesting the entire time, until the Major spotted someone else who was not dancing.

"Oh, hell no!" Ed gasped, doing everything he could to cease Armstrong's forward motion. "Not him. Please not him!"

"Why not? I don't know why he isn't dancing, actually…Colonel Mustang is a fantastic dancer!"

"Noooooo," Edward groaned. He couldn't dance with him. Mustang was such an ass! Besides, the Colonel was hardly likely to dance with a man.

This thought made Ed immensely more cheerful. He wouldn't have to dance with Mustang after all.

"Colonel Mustang!" Armstrong shouted, pushing Edward out in front of him. "I have found a partner for you!"

Mustang eyed the blonde up and down before sighing. Ed squirmed. "What are you doing, Major?"

"Edward Elric here did not have a dancing partner!" the man thundered. "Neither do you! You will dance together." Major Armstrong finished this sentiment with a hefty sparkle, not ceasing until the Colonel let out a tsk and grabbed Edward's hand.

"Let go of me!" Ed hissed.

"Fullmetal," Mustang droned, "If Major Armstrong wants us to dance the easiest thing to do would be what he wants." And with that, the Colonel led Edward out onto the floor.

It was immediately and painfully apparent that Ed had no idea what he was doing, which was a pity—he was hoping it would have been easier to fake it. The blonde was so embarrassed that when Mustang snickered, he found himself only blushing instead of yelling.

"I take it you've never danced before," the Colonel said in his ear, far too close.

Ed, of course, jerked away before shaking his head.

"Edward." Here the young alchemist started again. "If I'm going to dance with you I'm going to call you by name and I suggest you do the same," Mustang continued impatiently. Nuh uh. No way. Mustang would always be "the Colonel," if Ed was feeling nice, or "Colonel Bastard/Dickhead/Asshole" if he wasn't.

"Now," the Colonel said, pulling the boy closer. Okay, yeah, he was an asshole. "I have to stay close to you—the music is too loud for you to hear me otherwise, so calm down, Edward." Against his better judgment, Ed did as he was told. "Now, it's easy; you just put your hand in mind, the other on my shoulder—yes—and mirror my footsteps."

It sounded easy, but it was much harder than Edward would have thought. However, after three songs, he was getting the hang of it, and after five Mustang had relaxed (no longer afraid of having his feet stepped on), and in general everything was much more pleasant. Ed dared not say it aloud, but he was actually starting to…have fun.

Just then, a much slower song came through the speakers. Automatically, the Colonel shifted their positions, so that he was right up against Edward. The alchemist couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a smirk.

Mustang released his one hand to tip Ed's chin up. "It's rude to look away from your dance partner, you know," he...teased? What was happening here? "Just follow me."

They continued to turn in a similar fashion to the way they had in previous dances, until the Colonel released Ed, pushing him out and spinning the blonde before pulling him in again, their chests coming together briefly.

With that one spin, Edward realized with irritating clarity that he was dancing the typically female role. Mustang seemed to be amused by this, and he continued to force Edward to look at him whenever the boy looked away.

Ed might not have been experience with dancing, but he knew a couple's dance when he saw one—or, in this case, danced one. That, presumably, was the source of the splash of red on his face; nothing more.

Again, a spin, and, as per the Colonel's direction, Ed kept his eyes on Mustang's. His heart thumped oddly; the man's dark eyes bored into Edward's with a strange intensity, and the blonde found himself squeaking as Musta—oh, fine, Roy once again pulled him close, this time bending Edward backwards and himself forwards, so that their noses were just so close…

And then away again, upright again, spinning across the floor luxuriously.

The duo continued this pattern as the song went on—obviously a classic, it seemed Ed would be dancing to it forever. It had easily been three minutes, and the music hadn't changed. Nor had Roy ceased staring at him with that strange gaze.

Again, Edward was twirled, and bent, and from the corner of his eye he caught sight of another man—whom Ed didn't know—kissing the neck of the woman he was posed over. The blonde was suddenly very painfully aware of Roy's hand, firm on his waist, and how very inappropriate his position was.

It was a relief to be brought back up, but the amusement and dark light in Roy's eyes told Edward the man knew he was unsettled—and he thought it was funny.

Unfortunately, Ed was far too disoriented and flustered to get angry at the moment.

Finally, finally, the song was over. Edward's head was spinning, a mixture of the movement and Roy's forward actions. He got one more surprise as the Colonel bent down, kissing his hand. It was then that Ed realized there was no more music; either the dance was over, or Armstrong was giving everyone a short break.

Then he straightened, looking at the alchemist's wide eyes, and chuckled. "It was a pleasure dancing with you."

Edward seemed to regain his bearings. "What was that?" he hissed.

"Dancing, of course," Roy answered, his voice deep and forceful. "But, you know, it gets better than that."

Half-curious and half-terrified, Ed nodded.

"Next time," Roy positively purred. "We'll have to dance in a more private place…"

Edward blushed furiously, muttered something about how he needed to go. The Colonel laughed huskily, but let the boy make his escape.

As Ed walked away, he found he was more confused than before. Was the man drunk? Did he mean it? Which was Edward hoping for?

The alchemist found himself to be uncomfortably (and yet somehow pleasantly) warm.

Perhaps he would dance with Roy again.

Yes so I hope you enjoyed that.

royputthatthingaway

This is why I shouldn't go to high school dances. This is the result.