Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist > An Appropriate Profession
written for hallidae on lj. the prompt was the fic had to include the line "He could safely say that the last place he ever could have expected to find this world's version of Jean Havoc was behind the piano of a Parisian bar."
Disclaimer- dont own. merely borrowing. no profit made.
He could safely say that the last place he ever could have expected to find this world's version of Jean Havoc was behind the piano of a Parisian bar.
As soon as his eyes got used to the low lighting and his nose stopped fussing over the wave of perfume and cologne that flowed through the room like some high class miasma, Ed had to admit it made sense. The drink he kicked back might have helped in the whole acceptance process, but as he watched familiar fingers move in fantastically intricate and loving patterns across ivory, he had to admit it was rather appropriate that somewhere a version of the man was engaged in something so...
Innocent might have been the word Ed grasped after, taking another swig of some unmentionably sweet wine in a manner more suited to cheap beer. It was close, but not quite...complete. There was definitely poetic justice to be found in the sight of Havoc bent over a piano with all the intensity and skill he had leveled a rifle. A slight smile pulled at the corner of expressive lips, hinting at the manic grin Ed was familiar with, and Havoc finished with an overly dramatic flourish and stood to bow, eyes twinkling in appreciation as applause filled the room.
"Good, isn't he?"
Ed turned toward the speaker, interested in the almost possessive pride he heard there. "Yes. He really is. What's his name?"
"Depardieu. Jean Depardieu."
Ed made an appropriately thoughtful sound, partnered with a genuinely impressed expression as he returned his attention to the Havoc-at-the-piano. Same lanky form, same tousled hair, same grinning blue eyes...
The woman who had answered Ed's inquiry a moment ago made her way to the piano, a glass of wine held in one elegant hand, the other engaged in holding her skirts out of the way of the bar's other patrons. There were times Ed cursed the fact his French was so bad. He tried not to blush as he stumbled through trying to ask the barkeep who the woman was.
He tried not to choke on his wine as the barkeep informed him that was Depardieu's woman, one Corinne D'Aubigne. Depardieu's woman.
As he coughed up the last bit of wine, Ed felt a content smile break across his face. Depardieu's woman. "Well damn."
Ed finished his wine, watching Depardieu beam at the lovely Corinne, accept the wine she had brought him, and slip an arm around her waist as he maneuvered them away from the piano, intent on taking a small break.
"Hey boss!"
It was a familiar greeting, in a familiar voice, but it wasn't directed at the blond drinking at the bar. Something suspiciously like homesickness twisted around in his chest, adding to the slightly addled haze the wine was providing, and Ed decided it was time to leave.
He saw Depardieu shake hands with the barkeep, both men obviously pleased at the crowd the performance had managed to draw, and allowed a little bit of wistfulness to gather in the corner of his eyes. He wasn't one to cry, and he wasn't actually that upset to see Havoc content and with a woman...
Ed slipped out before he had to deal with the complete lack of recognition in those familiar eyes.
Disclaimer- dont own. merely borrowing. no profit made.
He could safely say that the last place he ever could have expected to find this world's version of Jean Havoc was behind the piano of a Parisian bar.
As soon as his eyes got used to the low lighting and his nose stopped fussing over the wave of perfume and cologne that flowed through the room like some high class miasma, Ed had to admit it made sense. The drink he kicked back might have helped in the whole acceptance process, but as he watched familiar fingers move in fantastically intricate and loving patterns across ivory, he had to admit it was rather appropriate that somewhere a version of the man was engaged in something so...
Innocent might have been the word Ed grasped after, taking another swig of some unmentionably sweet wine in a manner more suited to cheap beer. It was close, but not quite...complete. There was definitely poetic justice to be found in the sight of Havoc bent over a piano with all the intensity and skill he had leveled a rifle. A slight smile pulled at the corner of expressive lips, hinting at the manic grin Ed was familiar with, and Havoc finished with an overly dramatic flourish and stood to bow, eyes twinkling in appreciation as applause filled the room.
"Good, isn't he?"
Ed turned toward the speaker, interested in the almost possessive pride he heard there. "Yes. He really is. What's his name?"
"Depardieu. Jean Depardieu."
Ed made an appropriately thoughtful sound, partnered with a genuinely impressed expression as he returned his attention to the Havoc-at-the-piano. Same lanky form, same tousled hair, same grinning blue eyes...
The woman who had answered Ed's inquiry a moment ago made her way to the piano, a glass of wine held in one elegant hand, the other engaged in holding her skirts out of the way of the bar's other patrons. There were times Ed cursed the fact his French was so bad. He tried not to blush as he stumbled through trying to ask the barkeep who the woman was.
He tried not to choke on his wine as the barkeep informed him that was Depardieu's woman, one Corinne D'Aubigne. Depardieu's woman.
As he coughed up the last bit of wine, Ed felt a content smile break across his face. Depardieu's woman. "Well damn."
Ed finished his wine, watching Depardieu beam at the lovely Corinne, accept the wine she had brought him, and slip an arm around her waist as he maneuvered them away from the piano, intent on taking a small break.
"Hey boss!"
It was a familiar greeting, in a familiar voice, but it wasn't directed at the blond drinking at the bar. Something suspiciously like homesickness twisted around in his chest, adding to the slightly addled haze the wine was providing, and Ed decided it was time to leave.
He saw Depardieu shake hands with the barkeep, both men obviously pleased at the crowd the performance had managed to draw, and allowed a little bit of wistfulness to gather in the corner of his eyes. He wasn't one to cry, and he wasn't actually that upset to see Havoc content and with a woman...
Ed slipped out before he had to deal with the complete lack of recognition in those familiar eyes.
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