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“What are you doing here, Fullmetal?”
Edward rolled his eyes, holding up the basket in his hands, giving Roy a look as if the answer to his question was obvious. His attitude didn’t make him any less radiant, standing outside Roy’s door in a long brown overcoat and warm beige scarf, the snow soaking into his boots and the wind whipping his long ponytail in all directions.
“The same thing I’ve been doing once a month since I got back,” the other man told him. And Fullmetal was a man now. Not the boy who had batted away his handshake at sixteen, before running off to get himself killed in an underground city – but a man who had arrived back in Central seven months prior, in a tidal wave of trouble and sky-ships. “Do you know how expensive it is to keep getting the train up here? The freaking Brass won’t okay my transfer.”
“Nobody asked you to come,” Roy muttered in reply, filing away the information that Edward wanted to transfer North, and dutifully holding the door open so that Edward could get out of the cold. “And they wont. You’re needed in Central to keep monitoring the sky-gate.”
This thing – where Fullmetal came once a month for a weekend on the Northern Boarder – had become a tradition since his return to Amestris. Roy had no idea why he tortured himself with uncomfortable train-travel and bad company, but although he revelled in the closeness, complaining about Fullmetal’s motives was a tradition that went back much further. So he continued to grumble as he took the offered gift basket, hooked out the tea-bags that Edward always supplied, and took them over to his tiny kitchenette to make them both a cup.
He’d only had one the first time his ex-subordinate had turned up at his door, and the next month the gift basket had included a new mug. He drew it down from the lonely cupboard to get to brewing. Then, when Roy was focused on the tea, he felt a cool hand brush against his from behind. That was another thing that was different since the other man’s return. Fullmetal was tactile now. He turned in askance and the boy quickly held out something warm looking, made out of a bright red yarn. Roy stared at it for a moment before he realised the misshapen lump was a jumper.
“Did you make that?” he asked, and Fullmetal shrugged, not looking at him as his cheeks went a delightful pink.
“It’s cold here, and you hate the cold,” he mumbled. “And since you refuse to transfer back -”
“I have a term to carry out,” Roy quickly interrupted.
They had had this argument a few times before. Ed wanted him to transfer back to Central, and Roy planned on carrying out the duty he’d signed up for until his assignment was closed. Was that why Edward was trying to transfer up North? Because Roy wouldn’t come back? Was proximity to Roy as important to Ed as proximity to Ed shamefully was for Roy?
“So take the damn jumper, jack-ass!” Fullmetal hissed, shoving the offending item at him. Roy wrapped his fingers around the warm, soft knit.
“It’s not really my colour…” he complained. Because tradition. Ed scowled at him.
“You’d rather shiver in the snow than wear red? At least this way people can find you when they come visit! You know Havoc told me your pasty ass blends in with the background up here!”
Roy glared at him, but mostly because he didn’t like the idea of Havoc gossiping about the time Ed had been off world, and just how depressive Roy had been.
“I’m not wearing it,” he grumbled, making a move to put it away. Chances are he would wear it though, once Edward returned to Central. Because he was a pining fool.
Ed crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know what? I order you to try on the damn jumper!”
Roy’s own laughter caught him off guard. How rare it had become. But the sheer ridiculousness of this eighteen year old punk trying to order him around had it bursting from him unwarranted. The sound of it filled his little cabin and seemed to bounce off the walls, and in response Edward graced him with a wide, happy grin that made Roy want to lean forwards and kiss him.
Those thoughts weren’t tradition. They were about seven months old too. When Ed had come back, and Roy had finally been able to lay the image of the boy he was grieving to rest. In it’s place had been Edward Elric: all grown up and running his smart mouth. And Roy was smitten.
“You can’t do that!” he attested, but Edward seemed prepared for that.
“Actually I can. I went MIA for a couple of years and came back to my full rank and title waiting for me. You, on the other hand…”
“Stripped of my title and demoted to sergeant,” Roy filled in, annoyed.
Although he’d never been formally charged for Bradley’s murder, and the brass had cited his deteriorating mental health for his demotion and relocation, he couldn’t help but think some of his current situation was down to a coup Fullmetal had started.
Ed grinned at him.
“So are you going to put on the jumper? Or do I need to write you up for insubordination?”
Roy put on the jumper; but in true bratty subordinate style, that Ed had perfected in his time under Roy’s command, he made a big song and dance about it.
“Happy?” he asked, once he’d tugged it down over his abdomen.
When he looked back at Edward the man was giving him a subtle, serene little smile. The kind of smile that could light up even the frozen wasteland Roy had sequestered himself away in. And okay, maybe Roy could wear red. If it kept Edward coming every month.
“It’s itchy,” he complained, though. Because tradition.