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batsutousaiTitle: Arm Wrestle For Peace
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood/manga
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Darius/Edward Elric/Heinkel
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, anti-Amestris sentiment
Summary: Sometimes, being Amestrisan in Creta is a lot more trouble than anyone would want to deal with, but for Ed and his two travelling companions, it's become something they're good at handling.
A/N: Every winter season, I send out cards to anyone willing to give me their address, and I decided three winters ago to start adding fic to the cards. This year's prompt was coffeeshop. Which this ficlet kind of doesn't fit, but there are drinks involved, so...
While I've marked this as shippy, it can absolutely be read as platonic.
By the time they reached the Cretan town they'd been promised would have a place they could stay for the night – after two days of intermittent cold rain on top having to sleep in tents outside every night for at least a week, there hadn't been even a suggestion of an argument about walking the extra two hours for the sake of beds with a roof over their heads – they'd hit that point of exhaustion where Darius and Ed were bickering over literally everything and Heinkel was about ready to shoot them both for five minutes of peace.
The town was smaller than they'd been given to expect, based on how the farmers they'd got directions from had spoken of it. But, then, people who lived out in the country had rather different ideas about what a 'town' constituted, compared to the ideas that Heinkel and his companions, after years of military service and travelling, thought of.
"At least they didn't try calling it a 'city'," Ed muttered before he pasted what passed for a friendly smile on his face and stepped forward to call a greeting to one of the few people they could see out.
Given Ed's Cretan was a far cry better than either Heinkel or Darius', neither of them attempted to intercede, instead taking the chance to look around, check for danger points and escape routes; Creta and Amestris might officially be at peace, but their generations of fighting meant there was always someone who, upon finding out or assuming they were Amestrisan, decided to take it on themselves to 'welcome' them with violence. It was one of the many reasons they had been doing so much camping outside.
"So?" Darius asked once Ed had thanked the woman who'd stopped to speak with him.
"Tavern's that building over there," Ed said, pointing at a squat, sprawling building a ways up the main thoroughfare of the town, which looked to be under construction of some sort, but there were lights on inside and, when Heinkel stopped to listen, he could just hear the sounds of people laughing coming from that direction.
"And there's only really one place to stay," Ed continued, hooking his thumb towards an older-style ranch house about two carriage lengths away from them, which looked to have seen better days. "Used to belong to some hotshot, sounds like – she was clearly namedropping, but it's not anyone I've heard of – but he's moved to the capital pretty much permanently. Tavern got hit by a tornado or something a couple weeks ago, so they've turned hotshot's house into a temporary inn."
"Small towns," Darius muttered in a tone clearly meant to start something.
"Food," Heinkel ordered before Ed could do more than turn a glare on Darius. Then he caught Darius by the shoulder and started shoving him down the thoroughfare; he was always easier to get moving than Ed. "Did you find out where we should ask after the rooms?" he asked Ed as they came even with the temporary inn.
"Keys're kept at the tavern," Ed replied as he fell in next to Heinkel.
Politely, Heinkel shortened his steps just enough that Ed wouldn't have to struggle to keep pace, but it wouldn't seem like he was making a comment about his height. (There was a fine line, and Heinkel prided himself on being able to walk it.) "It makes sense," he allowed. "Especially if it's only a temporary measure while they work to rebuild."
Ed snorted in agreement, and they finished the rest of the walk in silence; the promise of a hot meal always seemed to ease tempers.
The tavern owner, at least, seemed relatively welcoming when they got there, directing them to an open table close to the fireplace, where a fire was doing its part to ward off the weather's miserable chill. He also brought them warm drinks when he came to check what they wanted – "Best hot cider in all of Creta!" he insisted; Heinkel taking a sip and offering, "It's certainly better than Amestris' best," made him beam and hopefully paved the way for excellent service – and promised them that he'd have the keys to the temporary inn and the evening's meal out to them quickly.
The tavern wasn't what Heinkel would call crowded, really, but there were certainly plenty of guests taking up the uneven array of seats around tables and along the bar. Most of them looked to be drinking the same cider as had been brought to their party, and the mood was far more cheerful than he'd have expected, given the recent miserable weather.
"You lot foreign?" a middle-aged man the next table asked shortly after their food – hot stew with plenty of meat and vegetables; Ed looked like he was in heaven, and Heinkel couldn't really blame him – was brought out to them.
The man didn't sound hostile, but they'd faced enough discrimination that Heinkel hesitated to answer, trading an uncertain look with Darius.
"Our shitty accents gave us away, didn't it?" Ed asked with a wide grin.
The man chuckled and motioned towards Heinkel. "That, and him bringing up Amestris fare; safe passage hasn't been open long enough to have a lot of return travellers."
Ed shrugged. "We actually came in through Aerugo." Then he huffed. "Sort of wished we'd stayed there for a bit longer, the way the weather's been."
"It has been a bit of a cold season," the man agreed.
"It's been shit seasons since you Amestris lot decided to go fucking around with weird alchemy!" someone shouted.
"Marcel, hey," the tavern owner called, making placating motions towards a red-faced man who was standing from a table on the other end of the room. "There's no need for a fight tonight."
The man was built along the same lines as Darius, with more muscle mass than strictly necessary in one human being. (Heinkel would bet good money that he was part of the construction crew working on the tavern.) He looked like he'd had more than enough to drink already, and paired with a grudge against Amestris...
"I can take him," Darius muttered, low enough that, hopefully, Heinkel and Ed were the only ones who'd heard him.
"Fucker who set that off is dead," Ed replied flatly; contrary to nearly everything else under the sun, people implying he'd had something to do with the events of the Promised Day didn't tend to send him into a flying rage. Which Heinkel, at least, appreciated, especially since it was often the top of people's list of grievances against their home country. "So are them that supported him, have been for over a year."
"Is that supposed to make it better?!" the man shouted, slamming his mug down and shrugging off his companions' hands to start towards their table. "I lost everything because of you!"
Darius started to rise, looking like he was plenty ready to start the brewing fight, but Heinkel grabbed his shoulder to stop him; this was their one chance to sleep indoors in over a week, and he very much doubted that would happen if they started a fight.
"What're you expecting me to do about it?" Ed asked carelessly.
Heinkel didn't quite moan, but it was a near thing.
"First one who throws a punch isn't coming back in here," a woman's voice called.
The angry man froze, looking a bit like a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head.
The woman who stepped out of the back room the tavern owner had collected their food from was built on the slight side, but her steely expression and the way the crowd in the tavern shifted back a bit, like they were afraid of her, suggested she was the person in charge. "If you want to fight, Marcel, take it outside. Else, sit down and talk it out like civilised people."
Marcel slumped a bit, still looking angry, but also like he'd lost all his fight.
Ed was watching the woman while she'd been talking, but once it was clear she was done, he turned to look at Marcel properly for a first time. "Arm wrestle?" he offered.
Marcel wasn't the only one to look at him in confusion, but he was the one to ask, "What?"
Ed flashed one of his devil-may-care grins, the sort that should have had Heinkel fearing the worst, but actually just made him and Darius both relax; they'd travelled together long enough to know exactly where Ed was going. "Arm wrestle. It's how we settle things in Amestris without violence." And then he held up an arm, making it clear he was intending to be Marcel's opponent.
Heinkel didn't need to guess what was going through everyone else's heads; him and Darius had both nearly laughed themselves sick the first time Ed offered to arm wrestle one of them, especially when he'd promised to do it with his real arm, rather than the automail, back when that was an option.
"Sounds good to me," Marcel decided. "I win, you fuck outta town."
"Sure," Ed agreed, and nearly every eye in the room turned to look questioningly at Heinkel and Darius, as though asking if they weren't going to step in.
Darius grinned, wide and slightly manic, while Heinkel hid his own knowing smile in his cider.
Ed and Marcel moved so they were sitting across from each other and clasped hands. "You sure about this, son?" the tavern owner asked Ed as he stepped up next to them, motioned forward by the woman who'd stopped the brewing fight.
"Absolutely," Ed promised.
And, when the tavern owner nodded and called, "Start!" Ed slammed Marcel's arm against the table.
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then someone started to laugh.
They ended up staying in the town for three days, so everyone who wanted it could have the chance to lose to Ed in an arm wrestling contest; it was probably the quietest few days of their whole visit to the country.
.