Chapter Text
“Roy.”
Roy lifted his head from where he was squinting at some documents in the candlelight, welcoming a distraction. A blonde head had poked itself around the doorway to their room, peering at where Roy was seated at his desk. Ed shuffled into the room, before dragging one of the thin blankets off Roy’s pile on the couch so Ed could drape it around himself, and Roy found himself smiling at how ridiculous it looked: Ed’s hair was a vision, falling like golden silk around his now blanket-covered shoulders, a prince of Xerxes, and clutching a blanket around himself like a cape.
“Ed,” he said, setting down his papers. “I thought you were in the library.”
Ed huffed out a breath and his bangs fluttered with it. “I was. But I’ve kinda...finished everything.”
Roy raised an eyebrow, and leaned back in his chair. “You’ve managed to get through the entirety of my library in...how long’s it been, three months?”
The quick shrug of one shoulder was becoming a familiar gesture. “Something like that?”
Roy laughed, and removed his glasses to rub at his eyes as Ed approached. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“I did have a lot of free time,” he said, leaning against Roy’s desk. “So I thought...” He trailed off, and frowned at the papers scattered across Roy’s desk.
“Ed?”
“Is there...anything you need me to do?”
Roy tilted his head, watching Ed curiously. “For...?”
Ed shrugged. “You seem pretty busy,” he said, gesturing at the papers spread across Roy’s desk, some which—and Roy realised this with no small amount of guilt—had been sitting there for some time. There were this year’s tax numbers he had been avoiding, as well as a long list of social events that he had still to sort through, and the fact that Havoc needed a new horse seeing as he freshly recovered from an injury and fit to start riding again. Not to mention his mother’s birthday was fast approaching and he had yet to plan a thing…
“It’s not that bad,” he said, after a while. “I can handle it.”
“Oh, so I was imagining things when Hawkeye told you yesterday that you owe her a couple of reports from last month?” Ed asked innocently.
Roy glared. “You eavesdrop far too much,” he said, balling up a sheet of scrap paper to throw at Ed, who merely grinned wider as he dodged.
“Not denying it,” he said. “Still, c’mon Roy, I’m bored. And seeing as we’re married or something—”
“You realise your ‘or something’ would have us imprisoned if we dissolved it?”
“—I should help out with running things, right?”
Roy chewed his lip, contemplating the idea. “Well, I never thought you’d be interested,” he said slowly.
By now he should’ve realised that Ed was onto any pretence fairly quickly. “You didn’t think I’d know anything,” he said, smirking.
“…well, yes, that too I suppose,” Roy admitted. “Let me think...” Rifling through his sheets of paper, Roy remembered something. “Ah, yes, we’ve been invited to the Armstrongs’ Winter ball. I’ve been meaning to ask whether or not you wanted to accompany me.”
“Isn’t that the whole point? That you get to parade me around in front of people?”
Although Ed’s tone was matter-of-fact with no hint of bitterness, Roy winced. “That isn’t entirely...” Ed amused look, with his gold eyes glinting, had the words withering on Roy’s tongue. “Partially,” he said. “But I’d never ask you to do anything you don’t wish.”
Ed grinned. “It’ll be fun,” he said, and Roy blinked. From what he’d gathered of Ed over the past few months, he hadn’t imagined that the other man would enjoy the bustle and glitter and downright pretentiousness of such events.
“Fun?”
“Yeah.” Ed picked up Roy’s paperweight—a miniature horse Maes had given him—miming its canter across the dark wood of the desk as the blanket fluttered. “I mean, they’ll probably find ten different ways to insult my family, and I’ll play dumb, and then they’ll say things they never wanted me to hear ‘cause they wanna teach me something, or they don’t care that I’m there. Then we can laugh at them in a few years when they come running to you for a favour.” Ed set the horse down on the desk with a thunk, and grinned wildly at Roy. “Fun.”
Roy...really had not realised what he had signed up for. “Well, if I keep underestimating you, no doubt they will,” he murmured. “Guess that one’s decided then.”
“Hurrah,” Ed said drily.
“Hurrah indeed,” Roy agreed. Then he came to a decision. “All right then, you can help me with this damn tax then.”
“More fun,” Ed commented, but regardless, he dragged a chair up next to Roy.
“You’re the one who wanted something to do because we were married or something.”
“Not complaining. Love tax. My favourite thing. Me and Al used to do it for fun, fork expenses and horse taxes and apple pie revenues—”
Roy settled his glasses back on his nose. At least half the reason was so he could peer over them at the bundle of energy seated beside him. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
Ed’s smile was all teeth. “Obviously.”
Despite Ed’s first move being to smudge ink across Roy’s cheek, Roy didn’t think he would.
The night was bright, full of glitter and glamour. Chatter soared, took flight to the high-reaching ceiling like a flock of birds. The words which winged up were varied, some mundane, others bearing secrets behind laughter and merriment, others, thinly-veiled insults. Curious glances—some benevolent, some probably less so—followed the two of them, with Roy’s sword at his hip, his uniform weighed down with medals and ribbons. But his heart was light as anything, with Edward’s hand in his own, and his arm wrapped around Ed’s waist.
The music wove around them, and though Ed’s smile was polite and slightly guarded while they were in company, his eyes glittered when Roy spun him around. Ed was surprisingly nimble, matching Roy step for step, his hair swept up in a ponytail and trailing through the air like bright silk as he completed the turn.
“You dance well,” Roy murmured, Ed sliding back up against him.
Ed grinned, before he tamed it back into something a little more courteous. “What, Mustang, you thought I couldn’t keep up with you?”
“Not at all,” Roy said smoothly. “Dip.”
Ed’s eyes widened, before he smiled once more and leaned back. Roy shifted his hands so that they were firm on Ed’s back, taking his weight as Ed let himself fall, supported only by Roy’s arms strong around him. He leaned forward, and felt his heart turn slowly in his chest as he turned to speak softly into Ed’s ear.
“I think I can’t keep up with you.”
“S’cause you’re old,” Ed said, equally quietly, but Roy could hear the mischief in his voice, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his own lips.
“You know, all these pompous asses have been making snide comments about my new mystery husband for months, and here we are,” Roy said. “With my partner looking like a dream, and a brilliant dancer to boot. I am so glad I married you.” Completing the manoeuvre, Roy straightened and guided Ed upright, hand settling back in Ed’s own. Ed’s grip was sure, and firm, even though there was the slightest dusting of pink across his cheeks.
“Yeah, well, you damn well should be.” The music wound to a close, and the two of them stilled. If he had any choice, Roy would have frozen that blissful moment right there. Ed was pulled up close against his chest, one hand resting on Roy’s shoulder, the other firmly clasping Roy’s hand, and his eyes glinted and his smile was soft. Roy’s arm was wound around his waist, and Roy resisted the urge pull Ed closer, to turn this into something more intimate than a simple dance.
But then Roy dropped his arm, released Ed’s hand, and the moment slipped away as Ed stepped back. “I’ll have to go make the rounds now,” Roy said reluctantly. “You don’t mind entertaining yourself for a little while?”
Were they back home, Ed would’ve shrugged and flapped his hand nonchalantly, possibly elbowing Roy in the ribs. As it were, Ed merely smiled, and nodded once. “Of course. I’ll eagerly await your return.” And with the final flash of his wide grin, he turned away and headed towards the drinks table.
You’re not the only one, Roy thought, and withheld a sigh. A night spent with Ed would be far more entertaining than having to make small talk and exchange pleasantries with the upper echelons of Amestris’s nobility, but unfortunately there were obligations and expectations to fulfil.
So Roy went about fulfilling them expertly. For the following hour, he flitted amongst the various groups gathered throughout the room, congratulating General Hakuro on his latest promotion, flirting a little with an unresponsive Olivier Armstrong, and fielding various comments about his new marriage. And through it all, he made careful note of who was standing with whom, how Lady Maling’s expression went suspiciously blank at any mention of the latest business dealings between the Cabine and Tilling families, all while pretending to care for naught beyond the latest military gossip and the prettiest ladies.
“I’m not sure your new husband would be entirely pleased with that exchange,” a familiar voice murmured from behind, after Roy had sent one such pretty lady off with a kiss on the hand and a sultry look from beneath dark lashes.
Turning, Roy found a short, bespectacled man standing beside him, dressed as he was in formal military dress, looking at him solemnly.
“Lord Fuery,” he greeted, inclining his head.
“Lord Mustang,” the other man returned, still looking grave.
“What goes between myself and my, ah, husband, is of little concern to you,” Roy said. “He understands what exactly it is a man needs.”
Kain’s mouth twitched. “Of course. I’m glad he’s aware of what type of man you are.” He moved to stand next to Roy, and they surveyed the room together. “I spoke with him earlier. He seems…quiet.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “He is a little shy,” he agreed.
“And yet,” Kain continued, “after about five minutes of conversation, I found I knew very little about him, and he’d learnt quite a fair bit about me.” He cleared his throat. “Although that might have something to do with your head chef. But still.”
Roy scoffed. “Yes, well, Havoc can hardly shut—keep quiet about…certain persons of interest to him. And speaking of which, have you any plans for marriage?”
The only way Roy knew of the tension in Kain’s shoulders were because they were standing so close to each other, else Roy would have missed it entirely. Though the way Kain’s expression went carefully blank was all too obvious.
“No,” he replied. “I haven’t found quite the right person.”
Roy hummed. “You should visit soon. Havoc will be riding again soon.”
“I—” Kain closed his mouth, and swallowed. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“I mean it, Kain,” Roy said, and now he had given up all pretences. “He’s moping. It doesn’t do good for my dining experience.”
Kain’s mouth twitched once more. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
“My initial point, however, was that your Edward seems to be rather clever.”
Scanning the room to pick out that little figure, decked out in red and gold, Roy found himself smiling fondly. Ed was still, a far cry from how he usually was—animated and excitable—but he certainly was clever. He knew how to play the part that they needed: quiet, a little meek, a little ignorant. “Isn’t he just?”
“…far too clever for you,” Kain continued, with a hint of mischief.
Gently bumping his shoulder against Kain’s, Roy cleared his throat. “Thank you for that, you insubordinate brat.” Kain raised a hand to cover his grin.
“Only for you, sir.”
Roy sighed. What had he ever done to deserve his team? Not enough, really. Not enough to earn their steadfast loyalty forged in desert sun and arid sand.
“Speaking of Edward, I should be getting back to him now. It was nice to talk to you.”
Kain smiled up at him. “And you. Good night, Roy.”
Weaving his way through the crowd to leave Kain behind, Roy felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. It had been hours since he had walked in through heavy, oaken double doors to the Armstrongs’ castle, Edward on his arm, and now he was tired.
Perhaps he was getting too old for this. A little too worn. But when he finally made his way to Ed so that the two of them could go home, he was inevitably drawn into brief conversation with Ed’s present companions, and now he was heavily resisting the urge to upend the contents of his goblet on their pompous, stuffy faces.
“I can’t imagine how you might get such a grand structure as this in the middle of your deserts,” one of them was saying now, and the way his mouth curled on the word ‘deserts’ made it clear what he thought about them. “And I can absolutely see why you decided you needed to leave such a place; the sand must do something awful for your health.”
Despite the man’s sneer, Ed’s smile was all innocence. “I appreciate the concern, Your Grace, but I did spend my entire childhood there, after all,” he said. “I was used to the weather.”
The man’s eyebrows lifted, just a little, as did the corner of his mouth, curling into a smirk. “Well then, young man, I’m…glad you were used to such poor conditions. Still, you must be grateful for Lord Mustang’s charity to assist your country.”
Roy’s blood flashed, and he spoke before he could think. “Prince Edward has been more than a valuable addition to my household, and I demand an apol—”
There was a clatter, and a yelp from Ed. Roy looked down to see a goblet on the floor, Ed bending to pick it up, cheeks burning. “I apologise, I must be awfully fatigued.” His eyes were downcast, but the glance he flicked at Roy was enough to calm Roy’s temper, and remind him of the game they all had to play. “Please do excuse me.”
The other man’s grin was wide and predatory. “No harm done, young man,” he said with a smirk. “I imagine it must take some time to get used to our ways, for someone like you.”
Someone like you.
Those words rang in Roy’s ears throughout the carriage ride as they headed back home, after they’d managed to escape. Ed was unbothered, merely dozing with his head propped up against the wall. But it…irritated Roy. Like pinpricks beneath his skin. He knew that it was he himself, in part, who was responsible for this. The two of them had agreed that their purposes would be best served if Ed hid, as he had done when he had first met Roy. Hide the fierce intelligence, the keen eye, and his ridiculous ability to charm and inspire (Ed had the entirety of Havoc’s kitchen staff wrapped around his little finger now). And they had done so, the past few times Roy had had company call, and it worked. No one suspected that Ed was listening just as keenly as Roy himself (not that too many people realised that Roy was paying attention either), which was perfect for them.
But tonight…
Tonight had unsettled Roy. It didn’t seem right that anyone see, let alone talk, about Ed that way. He was, as Roy had learned in the half year they had spent together, amazing. Clever, curious, funny, so real in how he teased Roy relentlessly, and challenged Roy’s view of…well, everything.
And on top of it all, he was awfully endearing. Even now, with his mouth wide open and head tilted awkwardly to press against the wall, Roy caught himself smiling. He found he did that a lot when he was around Ed, not that he minded all that much. There was a stray wisp of hair—escaped from Ed’s high horsetail—which trailed down across his cheek, and Roy resisted the urge to lean over and brush it aside. He made quite the picture like this: golden hair lit up, tunic fitting his form perfectly. And there was a part of Roy which wished that they had met under different circumstances. Though it was a blessing that Roy had even had the good fortune to meet Ed regardless, and he treasured their friendship enough to not want to jeopardise it.
Before long, they were safely back in their room, getting ready to retire. Although Roy had had the thought to give Ed his own quarters, when he’d presented the idea to Ed a few months ago, the other man had merely shrugged, and mumbled something about not minding the arrangement. Roy himself didn’t complain; he enjoyed Ed’s company. There was something about their quiet conversations in the twilight about science and Xerxes and Roy’s time in the army, or even when the two of them just relaxing together, Ed reading a book and Roy patching up clothing. So Roy had just…left it.
Although it did leave him open to observation, and a vicious elbow to the ribs when Ed caught him staring into space for a little too long.
“Ow!”
“Are you still thinking about earlier?” Ed asked with a scowl. “You’re being creepily quiet.”
Roy rubbed his side, affronted at the attack. “Oh, and you’re an expert in interpreting silence now, Edward?”
Ed rolled his eyes, tugging off his tunic and shirt. “Spent enough time with you to figure these things out. I’m fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Roy said, hanging up his shirt. Ed slid beside him to do the same, and Roy ignored the pleasant brush of Ed’s bare arm against his own. “They don’t—they don’t know you, and they’re in no place to say things like that to you.”
“Eh, they were sayin’ worse before, it’s not a big deal.”
Roy blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Well, they didn’t really say it to me, and then they started talkin’ about some physics things so I didn’t really think about it anymore.”
Despite the rage, Roy let out a huff of laughter. Trust Ed to get distracted by science. “I’m sure their conversation was fascinating,” Roy said, flicking Ed on the nose. Before Ed could retaliate, Roy squirreled himself under his blankets on the couch. “But still, what did they say about you?”
Ed shrugged, and flopped onto his stomach on the bed. “Nothin’ much. Just said you’d bought a dumb whore.”
Roy froze.
There was a part of Roy which was pleased at the news; the deception was successful.
But another part of him, one which he had ignored for many, many years, turned to the ice and fire of a wicked rage.
“Roy?” Ed ventured, after he’d been silent for too long.
Roy struggled to swallow the snarling anger in his heart that wanted to push, up and out, from his throat. How could they? So quick to judge, so quick to jump to conclusions, and yes, the two of them were leveraging that, but it was still…so ridiculous.
“They know nothing.” He’d meant for it to come out simple, reassuring, but instead, it was spat out through gritted teeth.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Ed said, matter-of-fact. “You don’t have to worry about it. They don’t matter, right? I don’t care what they say, and you shouldn’t either. And it’s better for us anyway.”
Ridiculous, really, Ed speaking as though Roy were the one needing soothing. “It is,” he conceded. But all the same…
Roy cleared his throat, and faced the back of the couch, blankets drawn up to his chin. “I hope you don’t believe that,” he said quietly.
His only answer for a moment was the rustle of sheets, and the loud beating of his own heart. “Why does it matter anyway?” Ed asked eventually, his voice muffled.
Roy stared at the floral carving that edged the couch, picking at the deep blue of the material. “That’s…that’s not what I think of you.”
Another beat of silence. “So what do you think then?”
Roy swallowed, both his heart, and the words which wanted to fight their way out of his throat: I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.
“You’re…important.”
Oh, how Roy wished he could see Ed’s face right now. Ed’s expressions, now that Roy had earned his trust and friendship, were easily read, and if Roy had been able to see him then he could work out whether or not Ed had heard what had gone unsaid.
You’re important. To me.
Roy couldn’t even hear Ed breathing.
All he could hear was his own heart beating.
“Roy.” The word was quiet, but cutting in the silence. “D’you think…” A long silence stretched out, before Roy heard the quietest of sighs. “Never mind. Night, Roy.”
Roy swallowed. “Ed?”
He waited, each beat of his hopeless heart too insistent against his chest, each breath too shallow. But nothing else was forthcoming, and Roy let Ed pretend that he had fallen asleep.
“Good night, Ed.”
They didn’t talk about that night again—not about Roy saying that Ed was important, not about how Ed had left a sentence hanging in the air between them, tantalising, torturous.
But it still hung there.
They didn’t bring it up. After all, why bother? They were friends; Roy knew that. Or at least, he hoped they were friends.
And that was the problem. As their friendship had grown, so had the swell in Roy’s heart whenever Ed got near, the helpless smiles he couldn’t hold back whenever Ed caught his eye.
The thing was, Ed had become his partner. He was Roy’s sounding board as much as Riza and Maes were, and Roy had found himself with the habit of always knowing where Ed was in the house, what his plans were for the day, picking up little mannerisms that he wasn’t even aware of. Once, Roy had gone to tug at Maes’s sleeve to get his attention, something Ed usually did with Roy, and Roy had stared at his hand as though it had betrayed him when he realised what had almost happened.
And Roy didn’t want to threaten that.
So he left it. They skirted around each other, sometimes tense, sometimes free and easy. But even in that, they were always together, and Roy wondered whether his efforts not to overstep were really all for naught.
The recent weeks had been like walking on a knife’s edge. Promotions were rolling around, and Roy was due for one—or at least, he hoped he was—and the past few weeks had been an endless calendar of meetings and socialising, Roy doing everything he could to make damn sure that he’d rise. The problem with that was two-fold—the days had been exhausting, and his other work had been slightly neglected, and now they were paying the price as they grinded through piles of paper.
(Not to mention the constant tension of just being around Ed, of the fluttering of his heart in Ed’s presence, but Roy pushed that far, far back into the recesses of his mind.)
Still, a night at home poring over documents was a nice change, especially as he got to work side by side with Ed once more. It was nice like this—intimate, with Ed seated so close (although that was slightly distracting), and the gentle quiet surrounding their work. Roy scrubbed at his eyes, an ache building behind them and in his head.
“Roy, can you give me that pile of stuff?” Ed asked.
Eyes still scanning his own document, Roy reached over absentmindedly to pass the papers to Ed—but then his armed bumped something, the light flickered, and Ed hissed in pain.
—flash of fire—
Roy turned quickly to see Ed clutching at his hand, mouth twisted in a grimace—and the candle fallen over, flame dead, and spilling wax across Ed’s skin.
His heart beat once.
“Ed!”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Ed said hurriedly. “It’s just a bit of wax, I’m—”
But Roy didn’t listen, because all that could sound in his mind was that he’d hurt Ed, that he’d hurt an innocent again. “We have to look at that—”
“Hey, watch it!” Ed’s hand darted out to catch Roy’s own, stopping Roy himself from brushing the wax. “It’s fine, really,” he said. “Roy it’s just wax, I’ve had sunburn worse than this.” The grimace of pain was gone now, replaced with a wry smile. But it did only a little in quelling the twisting of Roy’s heart.
Roy swallowed. “Right.” Turning Ed’s hand over gently in his own—the thousand little cogs and wires letting out that quiet, familiar whir—before he stood, gently tugging Ed to follow him to the bathroom, grabbing the pitcher of water on the desk.
“Sit.”
Now Ed frowned. “Roy, I can take care of this myself.” Despite the protest, Ed still perched on the edge of the bath, and Roy settled next to him.
“Arm. Please.” Reluctantly, Ed rolled up his sleeve and—it wasn’t that bad. Roy knew that; a minor injury, and if there was anything Roy had learnt about Ed, it was that he was made of tougher stuff than could be defeated by a wax spill.
But all the same, the angry red blotch had Roy’s heart clenching. He was meant to protect Ed. Whatever else their union meant, that was non-negotiable.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Eh, you’re fine.”
But Roy was still filled with guilt. Gently, he took Ed’s wrist, and poured water in a slow stream, the liquid making tinny splashes in the tub, trickling away down the drain. The quiet echoed in the room, broken only by the whistle of Roy’s harsh breath through his teeth, and the quiet whir of Ed’s automail when he shifted.
When the pitcher was emptied, Roy motioned for Ed to stay seated, and moved to open a drawer that sat next to the wash basin. Digging around, he retrieved a small glass container and some long cloths for bandages, before returning to Ed. Once more, he reached for Ed’s arm, and lay it across his own leg. He opened the jar, the floral scent drifting upwards. He dabbed a finger in the pinkish cream that lay within, and then gently dolloped it on the burn.
“It works well for burns,” Roy explained, when Ed made a questioning noise. “I know first hand. I’ve used it a fair bit.” The last sentence was quiet, a gentle confession.
Ed’s arm lay relaxed over Roy’s thigh, and he was close enough that Roy could smell that slight tang of the oil he used on his automail, and the soap he used to bathe. And there was a weird twinge in his heart when he realised the soapy scent was the same as his own. Gently, gently, he smoothed pale pink across the tan—and now, red—of Ed’s arm, relieved to see that the skin hadn’t blistered. That it hadn’t been seared away to reveal muscle and bone—
“Roy.” His name on Ed’s lips was low and commanding, and Roy found he couldn’t help but lift his head, drawn to Ed’s level gaze. “Are you all right?”
Was he? Well, yes—there was nothing wrong, after all. Nothing unusually wrong at least—naught beyond war-time memories, and the sudden realisation that Ed mattered to him far more than he’d come to think. And the thought—overbright in the shadowed mess of Roy’s soul—that it mattered to him what Ed thought of him.
“Not quite,” he said, eventually, and even that small admission had him resolutely avoiding Ed’s eyes. Instead, he concentrated on smoothing the cream down into Ed’s skin, feeling it turn from cold to warm, watching it go from pale to nothingness. This was something he could do—practical, and fixable. Something that could be healed.
Ed shifted, and Roy’s heart missed a beat—or several—when Ed pressed up close against him, his leg warm against Roy’s. Did he feel this? Surely he did. Ed was clever, incisively so, able to pick up the smallest cues. Surely he had to register the way that Roy’s breath became shallow in his throat, the way his heart raced, and how thoughts were racing frantically in his mind.
Or, evidently not, because Ed just continued talking as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. “What’s the matter?”
Oh, where to even begin?
“One of the matters in which I’m heavily involved for the army is…research, particularly for weapons,” he said abruptly. Slowly, he began to wind the bandages around Ed’s arm. “When…when the war happened, I was put in charge of several projects. The most important one would end up being explosives, and I suppose…burn wounds…are just…” He trailed off, not entirely sure what he was trying to say. “They’re familiar,” was what he settled on, but far from adequate.
After all, how could he even put it into words? How could he let Ed know that he was intimately familiar with the smell of burning flesh, of the infinite contortions of the human body in agonising pain, and the cacophony of the screams of the dying? It was just so weak, so pathetic to say the rest. I didn’t mean to. It was never my intention. But Roy had known, and had gone willingly.
How, oh how, to tell Ed that to see his skin marked like this had Roy’s stomach churning and guilt digging its claws into his heavy heart?
Ed’s metal fingers clenched and unclenched on his thigh, and Roy tied the bandage off.
“Um…I’m guessing that ain’t a good familiar?”
Roy smiled, but it was a little absent. “No. Not a good familiar.” The bandage was done, and Ed was all patched up now, so really, Roy should have moved his hand from Ed’s arm. But he just let it rest there, on top of the bandages, the cloth rough against his fingertips in sharp contrast to the smoothness of Ed’s skin beneath his palm. Not delicate, but…unmarked, until Roy had marked it. “I’ve hurt a great many people,” he told Ed’s arm, refusing to look up.
There was nothing for a while. Well, there wasn’t any noise. Roy wasn’t sure Ed was breathing; he wasn’t sure if he was breathing either. But the awful roll of his heart made his chest ache, and shame and loathing sat dug into the depths of his stomach. Because he realised that Ed was everything he wasn’t—forgiveness where Roy had sinned, kindness where Roy had hardened his soul against the screams of his victims, and warmth against the steeling of Roy’s cold heart.
And now that he realised how much Ed meant to him, how could he even dream of being deserving of the same feeling from Ed?
“So have I.”
A metal hand lay over his, and held it steady.
There was a horrendous crash against his bedroom door.
“Mustang’s locked it!”
“Well, that won’t be much use, we can still get to him.”
Attack.
Riza.
And a knife at her throat.
Maes.
That wound in his chest, too close, too close; Havoc’s scream and the blood all over Roy’s hands—
If there were intruders at his bedroom door, then his friends—
Edward.
“We can still get to him.”
Roy whirled, and his heart skipped a beat when he observed the person lying in the bed, still as anything, and he knew who was in that bed, whom he had given it to for so many months.
Ed, mouth open, eyes glassy as they stared, sightless, up at Roy, a knife in his throat, Roy’s knife and Ed’s blood.
Blood on his hands, and fire, and screams, and a knife in his hand streaming with red—
We can still get to him—
Ed’s hair the colour of desert sand, and red, red, red—
Ed’s eyes staring into nothing, the life, that fire gone from his face—
Ed’s eyes on his, wide, scared.
Roy’s hands fisted in the blanket twisted around him.
Dark. No fires, or the burn of the sun, or the bright yellow of sand.
Slowly, the trickling realisation came that Ed was holding him, hands on Roy’s shoulders, one comforting in its warmth, the other in its steady solidness.
His room. He was in his room, and Maes had…lived. As had Riza, and Havoc. They had survived, and they were fine.
And Ed was here, with him.
“Hey.” Ed’s brow was creased in concern, his skin pale in the moonlight. “Roy?”
Somewhere, Roy knew that it was a question, one that sought a response. But his mouth refused to work, refused to spit out some kind of reassurance to soothe the worry out of Ed’s eyes. Trembling a little, he did manage to shake his head, and release the death grip on his blanket. His stomach was churning, the knowledge that Ed was all right floating just out of reach, instead his pale face burned into the back of Roy’s eyelids, with Roy’s bloodied hands clutched around a cold body—
Roy swallowed the twisted, jagged knot in his throat, and buried his head in his hands.
Dark. So, so dark, with the tiniest shards of pale moonlight too harsh in how bright they were, and how jarring the white was against the gap between Roy’s bare feet where he was staring.
One breath in, two, in, in—no, he had to let the air out at some point. He knew that, but his body wasn’t listening, and he could hear the gasps—
The weight of Ed’s hands on his shoulders retreated, and Roy had barely registered the absence before his mind sneered at his with disgust, that of course Ed wouldn’t want to be touching him. He’d just been torn from sleep by Roy’s…behaviour, and Roy clenched his eyes shut. He’d have to look eventually. He would have to talk to Ed, to let him know it was all right to head back to bed, that he needn’t worry about Roy. And then Roy would see it all, laid bare across Ed’s face, and his heart clenched at the thought. At the picture in his mind of Ed struggling to keep his face impassive even as his nose wrinkled and his brows dipped, and that they’d no longer work into the night, pressed up close together as the candle burned low.
A scrape, a hiss, and the sound of small things being arranged on his desk.
Quiet footsteps padded back over to Roy—one two, three four, five six—then the rustle of a blanket, and a whumph. A body settled next to his—solid, real—and now, despite all the broken things that were clamouring on his breath, Roy’s heart caught in his throat.
Breathe. He could do that, did it every day, in fact. All he needed to do was take in a breath, one slow draw of chill air sliding past his teeth. His mind was still scrambling, still trying to twist reality back into shape and to realise that his friends were still with him. Safe and unbloodied and alive. He knew that. Slowly, the knowledge trickled back, fitting seamlessly because it was something that he knew but still so jarring against the images he’d seen not moments before, what he had lived only moment before.
He was all right.
Next to him, there was the shuffle of cloth. Then Roy felt warmth around his shoulders, something settle around them, and then a light tickle on his calf. Roy finally opened his eyes to the faint, flickering orange glow of the room, and dark blue cloth dangling down from where it was draped around his shoulder. Roy could make out some kind of embroidered animal in the dim light.
“This okay?” Ed asked quietly.
Not trusting his voice, Roy nodded. He recognised the pattern on the cloth. It was Ed’s ridiculous blanket that he liked to bundle himself up with when reading, or working, stitched full of stars and flowers and things that were meant to be puppies. It was a project Ed and Elicia had worked on—they had matching ones—and Roy remembered how much Elicia had shone when she’d come bounding up to him to show it off.
“It has magic powers,” she’d explained solemnly, and Ed had grinned down at her while Roy’s heart had warmed.
“Really now?” he’d asked, loving to see her so happy. “And why is that?”
“Because Uncle Ed has magic powers!”
If the comfort that Ed gave Roy, torn from a dream in the middle of the night, was anything to go by, maybe he did.
Because it helped. It helped to have someone next to him, to feel Ed next to him, solid, and real. The images were dissolving now, turning to smoke, then to nothing, though the remnant embers of the destruction wrought by fire remained seared in Roy’s heart.
“You need anythin’?”
You. Please stay.
Roy cleared his throat. “I’m okay,” he managed, heart still clenching.
Ed’s weight pressed against him a little more, just briefly, and he simply hummed a little noise. Knowing he’d have to look, and reassure, eventually, Roy braced himself and turned to Ed.
His hair was all over the place, but despite it all, his eyes were still bright when he looked right back at Roy.
Bright, and warm.
Relief flooded through Roy, and he let out a long breath. Stupid, really, to think that Edward would be anything but kind. Stupid, and disrespectful, that it filled him with that much hope that it wasn’t disgust he saw, nor indifference. Roy felt like a child, the two of them wrapped up in a blanket together, seated on the floor, hearts open in the dead of night.
“Are you gonna be all right?” Ed asked, and Roy loved him.
“I’ll be fine,” Roy said. “You should go back to sleep.”
Ed shrugged, then pulled the blanket back over his shoulder when it started slipping. “Only if you’re gonna sleep too,” he said. “It sounded like…it sounded pretty bad.”
Roy’s heart stuttered. “I’ll be fine, really. But thank you, for…asking.” Ed’s hand was so close to his, just resting on the floor. All he had to do was take it. “Truly.”
The corner of Ed’s mouth quirked up. “Hey, we’re married, aren’t we?”
And his eyes glittered, and the pull was irresistible. Roy had seen it coming for a while now, and now Ed was just drawing him in with the gold of his eyes, that half-smile. With the gentle of the night wrapped around them and the soft flicker of the candle flame, Roy couldn’t help but lean forward.
I love you.
—red, blood red, Ed’s sightless eyes staring at nothing—
Roy stood, and the blanket fell to the ground, pooling at his feet.
“I’m sorry I disturbed your rest,” he said, and drew his lips into a smile. “We should both sleep.”
Ed got to his feet slowly as well, and let out a yawn. “Yeah. Let me know if you…just let me know, okay?”
When Roy had been a child, he’d been an explorer. The river by his home was his favourite haunt, and oftentimes he’d climb through the mountains. He used to go with Madame Christmas, and she’d teach him scale cliffs and build fires. There was one beautiful old tree, he remembered, deep in the mountains, branches long and twisted with age, dotted with gorgeous white blossoms. It would bloom in the spring, the sharp, dark brown of its bark holding up those the pale petals, and Roy would sit under it and wonder at its beauty, at how happy it made him to watch it grow each year.
The tree wasn’t there anymore. When he was twelve, Roy had napped next to it, the fire that he’d built to close crackling away next to him. The wind had picked up, and he’d woken in a panic when the flames singed him. He’d rolled away at the realisation of the sudden, burning heat and smoky haze that filled the air.
It was silly. A long-ago memory from when he’d been far too young, but he still remembered the wrenching shame as he’d watched it burn.
“I won’t need anything more from you, Ed,” he said softly, and turned away.
The pretence didn’t last long.
“Okay, what is it?” Ed asked irritably, four days later.
“What’s what?” Roy returned, not looking up from his desk.
“What’s wrong?”
Roy looked up, registered Ed’s scowling features, and dipped his head again. “Nothing.”
“Right,” Ed said, drawing the syllable out into a long, disbelieving drawl. “So you’ve just been working stupidly late, refusing all my help, and not sleeping until I’ve been in bed for hours, all that just for fun? I can tell when you’re avoiding me, Roy, I’m not stupid.”
Well, he’d thought that Ed hadn’t noticed. But as was often the case, it appeared that Roy had once again underestimated him.
“I’ve been…busy,” he said, still resolutely staring at his page.
“Uhuh. And I haven’t heard that one before, Mustang.”
Roy’s eye twitched.
“I am,” he said through gritted teeth. Ed padded over to him. Roy saw him approach from the corner of his eye, and wanted nothing more than to retreat and hide, because he just couldn’t deal with all of this, not today. Maybe not ever. This was too much of a good thing to ruin, and he just couldn’t have that.
Ed halted, standing next to him, Roy still staring down at his papers. Now, Ed was far too close to him, close enough that all Roy had to do was lean a little to his left, and he’d be pressed up against Ed, buried in that clean scent and the warmth of his skin. As it were, he struggled not to just melt at the touch of Ed’s hand on his shoulder. Struggled to breathe when Ed leaned over, and said a single word, gentle and commanding.
“Roy.”
With Ed’s quiet breath in his ear, Roy couldn’t say no. So he turned his head, and then Ed’s lips were pressed against his own.
Roy jolted back, his chair stuttering across the carpet, and his elbow banged against the desk. But the shock of the pain was far less than the shock he’d felt at the soft brush of Ed’s lips across his, and he stared up at Ed, wide-eyed and stunned.
It wasn’t often that Roy couldn’t read Ed’s expressions—he’d become quite adept at it—but now was one such time. The signs were too much. Ed licked his lip—nervousness. His fingers tugged at his braid—uncertainty. But his brow was furrowed, and his gaze was steady as he looked at Roy—determination. Red on his cheeks, was that—anger, or embarrassment, or was the fire just too warm? And something like the twitch of his mouth, which could either mean Ed was holding back a smile, or a sneer, and Roy just couldn’t tell.
Or maybe it was all just jumbled up, because none of it fitted with Ed kissing him.
“What—” He wasn’t entirely sure what his question was, but he had one.
Ed was just looking at him, eyes never leaving Roy’s. “Is that what…you’ve been worrying about?”
Yes.
“No,” he said, automatically.
“Roy, stop that.” Ed advanced again. He was a forest fire, great and beautiful, and Roy was addicted to heat. “I know when you’re lying. What are you so afraid of?”
Oh, where to even begin?
“Ed, I—I can’t, you don’t know half of it,” Roy said, breath stuttering, cold and broken because his heart was weeping—couldn’t he just have this for once? “We can’t do this,” his traitor mouth continued. “You’ve only seen the least of it and I can’t do that to you.”
“I’m here anyway, aren’t I?” Ed said, and when Ed’s hands framed Roy’s face, Roy couldn’t find it in himself to reject the touch anymore. “I’ve seen a bit of it, and I still wanna be here. I wanna do this with you Roy. I wanna screw around with all those other stuffy nobles, I wanna do the tea parties with us and Elicia, I wanna sleep next to you instead of just hearin’ you go to sleep every night ‘cause it drives me insane to hear and feel you there but to not actually have you.”
Part of Roy—the old, battered part that was used to denial and hiding—still held firm, was still squirreled away in a corner, sullen and hardened against the world.
Another part of him was having a small celebration.
And it was getting increasingly loud.
He knew the reasons. He’d had them running in circles around him mind for however long these past few months, so deeply engrained in every part of him that he dreamt of it. But he just—he wanted this. He wanted it so badly, he wanted to hear those words again, he wanted to never have Ed’s hands leave his skin, he wanted to see bright gold and dark skin and the glint of silver of Ed’s limbs every day. But there was a protest here, he knew. Something about how he couldn’t do this to Ed, how it would be wrong of him to force something as withered and broken as himself on someone, anyone else.
“I do snore a little,” is what came out.
Ed stared.
Then the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Yeah, that’s my point. I know that too, and funny enough, I still want this.”
Slowly, Roy lifted a hand to rest over the one that Ed held against his cheek. “Edward—”
But then he couldn’t get another word out, because Ed was kissing him again.
It only lasted a second, before Roy was once again looking at Ed, blinking, disbelieving, and Ed’s mouth slowly curled into a smile. “Still got more to say? ‘Cause you seem to shut up every time I do that, and if you need me to do it a few more times before you stop talkin’ about weird stuff, I can do that too.”
“That—” Roy cleared his throat. “That seems rather unfair. I’m serious.”
“So am I.” And indeed, Ed’s eyes were solemn as they looked at Roy, inspecting. “So what do you say?”
With Ed’s eyes on his, Roy felt the last of the weight float away.
“I think,” he said slowly, “I say yes.”
Ed’s grin was blinding in how bright it was. “Good,” he said, and his eyes were soft and his hands still so beautiful against Roy’s skin. “Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of me kissing you a lot, though. I’ve been wantin’ that for ages.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Roy said, and slowly, he let himself smile as well. “I think I’d rather enjoy it, to be perfectly honest.”
“You bet you will. But first, you gotta sleep.”
Work. Roy had it, Roy knew that it had to be done. But honestly, his mind was foggy with fatigue and strain, and maybe he could let himself relax for one night. “Do I at least get the bed now?” he asked, and Ed’s hands fell from where they rested against Roy’s face and instead tugged him by the wrist towards their bedroom.
“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t want it in the first place!”
“I was being polite,” Roy said. “I didn’t want to offend an important guest.”
Ed snorted. “But it’s all right to offend me now?”
“Well, we’re married, aren’t we?”
“We were married then!”
“No, but now we’re married married.”
The shirt that Ed just took off flew at Roy to hit him in the face. “If you don’t stop talkin’, you’re goin’ back on the couch.”
“How cruel,” Roy said, tucking himself under the covers as Ed held them open. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“What didn’t you do?” Ed muttered. When Roy lay back on the mattress—so comfortable after months on the couch, even though the couch had been all right—Ed immediately curled up against him, and rested a hand over Roy’s heart. “Now go to sleep.”
“Mmm.” Sleep was enticing, but Roy could have a moment longer, he thought, to simply enjoy this. Slowly, he raised one hand to rest on the crown of Ed’s head. When that didn’t elicit any protest, he ran his fingers gently through a thin strand of Ed’s hair.
Then stopped immediately.
“Was that a purr?” he asked.
“Shut up and just keep doin’ that,” Ed said, but the usual bite was gone, replaced with something that sounded like utter contentment.
Roy had to smile. “Of course.” It was so strange to be here. To have Ed pressed up warm against him, to be his to have and hold. Not hours ago, he’d still been trying to beat all his emotions into submission, was still pretending that he had some semblance of control.
But Ed wanted this. Ed wanted him, and…gods, Roy still wasn’t sure he could give Ed what he wanted, but he would try.
“Prince Edward,” he said, a sudden thought occurring to him, hands trembling slightly as he carded his fingers through Ed’s hair.
“Lord Mustang,” came the reply, slurred with fatigue, but still playful.
“Would you…” Roy took a deep breath, and though he had Ed curled around him and his wonderful weight, warm and real, sitting heavily on his chest, his heart still clenched in the tiniest bit of fear. “Would you allow me to court you?”
Roy’s heart skipped a beat when Ed stayed silent, but then he propped one elbow up on Roy’s chest, and looked at Roy incredulously. “You do realise that we’re married?”
“Well, yes,” Roy huffed out, slinging an arm around Ed’s shoulders to coax him into lying back down, which he did with a pout. “I just thought…you know what I mean.”
Somehow through Ed’s skull, Roy could feel Ed’s eyes rolling. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
You always know.
“I guess I wouldn’t be too opposed to it,” Ed said, settling back down against Roy. “Only ‘cause we’re married and all. Would be indecent or somethin’ otherwise.”
“Indeed,” Roy said, and grinned at the ceiling. He pressed a kiss to Ed’s forehead, and felt lips brush his collarbone in return.
I love you.
“I am so glad I married you.”