Morphed

Chapter Twenty Seven

Holy shit guys, it's been almost two months, I'm so fucking sorry. I've been focusing a lot more on my art recently (if you want to check it out my DeviantArt is ) and I just haven't had the motivation to sit down and write. I've also had practice for my Debutante Ball, and as two of you already know I finally got to do the actual thing last weekend (picture posted at the end of the chapter) It was amazing, and for any of my Aussie readers who haven't yet had the chance to do theirs, I highly recommend you do it. It was a lot of fun and I wish I could do it again.

In any case, here's the chapter.

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Previously:

"You're...drunk." Edward gritted through his teeth.

"Don't forget, Elric. You're under my control. You do what I say, or face the consequences. Do you understand me?" He shook him. "I said, do you understand me?"

Ed smiled weakly. "Fuck you."

Mustang punched him on the side of the head, and darkness swallowed him.

././././././

The strangle holds, the insulting names,
The wound up shirt around his fist;
The nose to nose, beer-stinking breath.
Thrown down onto the floor,
So battered, bruised and sore
Thrown down onto the bed,
And thrash until you break your neck

Hell's where I was born! Hell's where I was raised,
This hell is where I'm from and this hell is where I'll stay.

~Hush (Hellyeah)

././././././

Several weeks passed in a similar fashion. Most nights Mustang opted to visit the bar and leave Edward to return home alone. Only occasionally did he remember (or care) to give Edward the keys, so he spent a lot of his nights outside in wolf form waiting for his supervisor - Edward's contract with the military had ended, he really needed to stop referring to the Colonel as his superior - to return home. Mustang's return usually came with a special side of beating, just for him.

If the team knew about Mustang's drinking problem, they made no comment. Well, at least not anymore. Lieutenant Hawkeye had tried several times to casually bring it up, and then forgone any attempt at subtlety and just outright told Mustang his alcohol consumption was out of control. Needless to say, it didn't go down well. Mustang had spent ages yelling at the Lieutenant, Hawkeye yelling right back. They fought and fought until finally Hawkeye realised that she was not going to get anywhere. There was no stopping Mustang from drinking, he was just too addicted.

Which, of course, just meant more physical pain for Ed. Even in his drunken state, Mustang was usually aware enough not to hit him anywhere that might be noticed by anyone; the last thing he needed were child abuse charges. But every now and then he slipped up and left a bruise on Ed's face. Ed knew that Hawkeye at the least knew about it, but he was pretty sure he could keep it from the rest of Mustang's circle.

They'd mostly stopped looking for the Homunculi. Roy didn't get out of the office until evening, and then he spent the time they could have used at the bar getting shitfaced. Ed had tried once to go out searching himself, but when he'd got back after hours of finding absolutely nothing, he returned to a very pissed off Mustang. And Mustang hadn't just beaten him that night. No, the man had gotten creative. Beatings, Ed could handle. Being drowned...he couldn't.

Mustang had filled the sink full of water while Ed was slumped against a wall, nursing a torso so bruised he couldn't stand. The Colonel had picked Ed up by the hair and dragged him to the sink. By the time Ed realised what was happening, his face was submerged in the cold water. He'd kicked and screamed and fallen into a full-on panic, and Mustang didn't lift his head out until he'd stopped struggling and been on the verge of passing out.