Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He’s wanted this ever since his hormones decided to fling his sexuality against the wall that is Roy Mustang and see what sticks.

But imagining this and actually feeling Roy slowly sliding into him from behind, holding the nape of his neck with a strong hand and pressing his head into the table, is something else entirely. Not exactly an out of body experience—no, definitely not—but an out of mind one, certainly.

Roy groans as he pushes forward, the slight resistance suddenly yielding to his cock, and Ed desperately tries to pull himself together, but frankly he’s starting to drool and he’s not even sure he’s ashamed of it.

How the fuck did this happen?

+

It happened as most things do, with stiff scotch and a late night at the office.

Pouring over paperwork well into the evening was par for the course these days, Ed thought grumpily as he sipped on stale coffee and shoved aside the current stack in favor of a more interesting report. There had to be something good buried in here, he knew it.

A glass clinked on the desk in front of him, two fingers worth of liquid ambrosia sloshing gently inside. Ed glanced up at Mustang, who was slowly withdrawing his hand to comb it back through his already tousled hair. It tended to get messier as work nights dragged on. Ed glanced away before he could start fantasizing about burying his face in it.

“Thanks,” he grunted, and flipped open the new report.

“Cheers,” Mustang said. He could see the older man take a sip out of the corner of his eye.

When the General didn't leave immediately, Ed looked up again. “What?”

“I have a proposal for you,” Mustang said. He took another sip of his scotch.

Ed leaned back in his chair and did the same. “Okay, shoot.”

“You’re an attractive man,” Mustang said point blank. Ed’s lips parted in, well, shock. “We’re both single. I happen to know you are inclined towards men,” he drawled, as if he was discussing the weather. He paused as if waiting for Ed to come up to speed.

Easier said than done. Ed gaped up at him. “I—what?”

“It seems like we could both use some stress relief, if you’re amenable.” Mustang’s eyebrows rose in question as he brought his glass to his lips once more, but he otherwise stood still.

Rather than sputter helplessly at his CO, he knocked back the entirety of his scotch and followed it up with a, “The fuck?”

“Ah…it’s a casual offer. No hard feelings if you aren’t interested, at least not on my part.”

Had Ed hit his head on something recently? Was he dreaming? Never in his wildest imaginings—and believe him, he’d tried—had Mustang come right up to him and offhandedly suggest they fuck, blasé as you please, as if asking if he wanted to get a cup of coffee down at the commissary between requisition forms.

If, by some miracle, this was real and Roy Mustang was actually propositioning him, turning him down would be reasonable—possibly expected—and the smart thing to do.

Ed had never known the man to hold a grudge where things like this were concerned—he knew from being around the team all these years, as well as meeting Roy’s sisters, that Mustang was laissez faire about sex and a big fan of consent. He probably figured Ed wouldn’t be too offended one way or the other, if he’d been paying enough attention to Ed to have sussed out his ‘inclinations.’ Saying no would result in nothing more than a shrug and a return to their typical flirty banter. It didn’t mean anything either way—to Mustang.

But Ed actually wanted him. Badly.

What a terrible, terrible idea. It could and probably would get messy, because Ed’s heart wouldn’t be able to stay out of it and… Shit, why was he even considering it?

He decided to fight off his initial embarrassment and hide his panicked indecision with some venom and his typical bravado, but by the glint in Mustang’s eye, the older man saw right through it anyway. “What, are you saying we should fuck in the office?” Ed shot back, waving a hand around at the room at large. It was dim with only his desk lamp on and the light spilling from Roy’s office. They were often alone together here late at night recently.

Mustang turned slightly so he could perch on the edge of Ed’s desk and leer down at him. “You live in the dorms, don’t you?”

Ed swallowed tightly. “I do.”

“I was going to end up on the couch tonight anyway, most likely,” Mustang said. “It’s not worth going home at this hour just to come back at the crack of dawn.”

Ed couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he placed his glass back on his desk and spun back and forth in his chair slightly, eyes barely glancing up at his CO. “Are you just using me for my private bathroom? Your couch is comfier than my dorm bed.”

“Perhaps,” Mustang said lightly, but his eyes said otherwise. He could surely tell Ed wasn’t drifting towards anything even resembling a ‘no’ at this point, and his dark eyes narrowed slightly as he deliberately looked Ed up and down. It raised goosebumps on Ed’s arms, conveniently hidden by his uniform jacket and customary gloves. He wiggled his flesh toes in his boot just so he wouldn’t shiver or clench a fist where Mustang could see it.

Yeah, Ed was a stupid, stupid man.

After a moment, Ed shrugged and made to get up from his chair. “Alright,” he said.

“Excellent,” the General replied.

+

It should have felt weird unlocking the door to his dorm and ushering Roy Mustang inside ahead of him. Ed found himself frowning as he followed behind, shutting the door and throwing the deadbolt on autopilot.

He’d left his bedside lamp on that morning, so Mustang was already peering around the small space and taking it all in. Not that there was much to it. His ‘bed’ was decidedly more on the cot side and was probably far too small for two people. He had a tiny kitchenette tucked in one corner by a door that led to the bathroom, and a desk opposite which was piled heavily with books and papers. Ed scurried over to try straightening the stacks into some sort of presentable shape and gathered the two days-old coffee mugs he’d left there. He dropped them in the sink and whirled to face Mustang, who was looking at him with some unfathomable smile playing at his lips.

“Nice place,” Roy quipped.

Ed rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you paid me more, I’d get a bigger bed,” he complained. Mustang just quirked an eyebrow. They both knew Ed made plenty enough to move out of the dorms.

Rather than get into that, Ed turned and rummaged through one of the cupboards for glasses and the bottle of whiskey he knew he had somewhere, because fuck him but he needed a drink. Another drink. Fuck. It was gathering dust deep on the top shelf. His fingers just barely grazed the glass.

A warm, solid presence appeared behind him, and then Roy’s arm stretched past Ed to catch hold of the neck of the bottle. Ed’s face flushed.

“I could have reached that, Bastard,” he muttered.

“Mm,” Mustang responded. He moved back only enough that Ed could turn around, lower back pressed into the counter.

He tried to raise the two glasses between them to ask, “Want some?”

Roy set the whiskey bottle on the counter, then took the glasses and set them aside, as well. Ed’s breath caught in his throat as the older man leaned into his space and pressed their hips together, eliciting a hissed curse from Ed as he felt arousal begin to flare to life in his body. If he’d still been in denial about what was happening here so far, well he fucking wasn’t anymore.

The General brought a hand up to gently grasp Ed’s chin and tilt his head up. “Do you want to lay down any ground rules?” he murmured.

Ed struggled to put enough rational thought together to answer that. “Don’t kiss me.”

The look he received was too complicated—and maybe too dangerous—to parse at that moment. Roy nodded and then grazed his teeth against Ed’s throat. Ed swallowed hard to hold back a whimper.

“Everything goes back to normal after this, right?” he whispered. “Like nothing happened.”

Roy breathed against his neck. “Just two friends doing each other a favor.” He leaned back again so that he could gaze into Ed’s eyes.

“Do you normally do this with friends?” Ed couldn’t help but ask. He realized his hands were clamped around the edge of the counter and released them so he could hesitantly place them on Roy’s hips.

“Sometimes. Do you?” Roy asked.

A million complicated answers flitted through Ed’s mind before he settled on the same word, “Sometimes.” No need to go into detail about his sex life at the present moment. He slept around what he thought was an average amount for someone his age, maybe a little more—and Roy had obviously noticed—but he typically steered clear of dalliances with closer acquaintances.

Roy Mustang was so far beyond a closer acquaintance it wasn’t even funny.

“You can change your mind, Ed,” Roy offered.

At least there was that. He knew Roy would always respect his choices. Hard won though it might be, ‘friends’ was an apt description for what they were now, years after the Promised Day. At this point, probably the only thing that could change that would be Ed deciding he was done and walking away. For as loyal as the team was to Roy, Roy was even more loyal to them in return.

The question, really, then, was him, and if he could handle the aftermath of…whatever this was.

But, oh, he wanted.

Maybe it was worth it.

“No, I’m cool,” he said. He tilted a smirk up at the older man that was way braver than he actually felt and dragged one hand up Mustang’s chest before hooking his fingers in his uniform collar. He gave it a sharp little tug. “We going to do this, or what, Mustang?”

“In that case, let’s drop the formalities, shall we?” He bent his head again and this time when his lips met the skin of Ed’s throat, he bit down swiftly and sharply.

Ed didn’t bother holding back a moan this time.

They shed their uniform jackets with haste, then Roy was undoing Ed’s cavalry skirt and belt, yanking both out of their fastenings and tossing them somewhere to the side where all the metal accouterments clanked loudly against Ed’s concrete dorm room floor. Ed made quick work of his own shirt buttons while Roy’s tongue swept over his clavicle and pulled impatiently at the hem of Ed’s shirt.

Meanwhile Ed’s heart and brain were both going haywire at once because that was his fucking CO’s mouth on him, his fingers diving under layers of fabric to brush the sensitive skin of his abs, body pressed tight and close and raising an inordinate amount of heat in him. Everything was coiling and rushing and raising goosebumps on his skin, and Ed didn’t know where to put his own hands, he just wanted to touch him everywhere—before it was all over.

Roy splayed his hands against Ed’s lower back and leaned away slightly so Ed could finish tugging off his button down and undershirt, leaving him bare chested and a little self conscious. Roy had definitely seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but there was something different about the context—of course there was. Roy looked intently, cataloging all the little nicks and scar tissue and the smattering of freckles on Ed’s two flesh shoulders. No matter how many times he let people see him like this, Ed felt shy about the way his right arm still looked. If his would-be bed mate was put off by it, he certainly didn’t show it.

In fact…

Roy sucked on the scar tissue right at the top of his shoulder, coaxing a small cry from Ed’s mouth.

He pushed Roy away so suddenly that the older man looked worried for a fraction of a second before pulling his mask firmly back in place, but before Roy could ask what was wrong, Ed had their positions flipped and he was fighting to free Roy from his uniform in kind. As he did, he leaned in—and up, just slightly—to taste him. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of Roy’s throat.

His first taste was some kind of heaven. The way Roy’s throat vibrated as he moaned against Ed’s lips made his knees feel weak. The way Roy looked as Ed unclothed him was even better.

The man was all lean muscle and pale skin, less broad in some places than Ed even though he was still taller. He was delicate, almost. Aside from the angry mark painted across his abdomen, he looked like smooth porcelain, a light trail of dark hair dusting the space between his navel and…much more.

Oh. Yeah. That would do very nicely.

Roy’s eyes seemed to glitter when Ed glanced up from admiring his dick. It made him look mischievous.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

“Hell yeah,” Ed breathed, unabashed, and stared. The man deserved it. His cock was gorgeous. It was thick and straight and blushed a beautiful red at the tip. Ed wrapped his whole hand around it and pumped experimentally, getting a feel for the weight, enjoying the grunt that escaped Roy’s lips. “I’m going to put that in my mouth,” he said absently.

Though maybe not right now. Roy shoved Ed back until he had him trapped against the edge of Ed’s desk. “Later,” Roy growled, and then made short work of Ed’s uniform trousers. As soon as Ed was free of them, Roy grasped both of their dicks in his large hand and worked them together, eliciting a full body shudder from him. Ed was already dripping precum. Roy swiped his thumb through it on an upstroke and Ed buried his face in Roy’s neck and bit down hard to keep quiet.

He could definitely cum like this, no doubt about it. He really didn’t want to, though.

“Fuck me,” he said when he next had enough breath to do so.

“Do you have any lube?” Roy asked. He pulled away from Ed just far enough to spin Ed around and shove him down against the tabletop.

“N-nightstand,” Ed choked out. The momentary wait while Roy left to search for it, leaving Ed ass up and alone, was almost enough to break Ed out of the lustful haze that was clouding his better judgment. Lucky for him, slick fingers met hot skin moments later. Ed groaned as one breached him, tugging insistently on his hole. “More,” he demanded.

Roy didn’t question him. He pushed two fingers in.

“More,” Ed demanded again.

“Brat,” Roy chided. His teeth scraped at Ed’s shoulder blade. His fingers pumped in and out of Ed faster.

“Dammit, you bastard, fuck me already,” he growled while arching his hips further up into the air. He was face-down now and wantonly baring himself for the other man. He heard Roy make some sort of choked noise, which was really very gratifying, even as the bastard in question pressed Ed harder into the surface of the desk.

Rather than following Ed’s direction, however, Roy decided it would be a good idea to just tease him further, and he did so by abruptly removing his fingers and then running the length of his slicked-up cock between the cheeks of Ed’s ass—slowly. The General chuckled quietly when Ed whined and shimmied against him. He spoke in Ed’s ear, a commanding murmur. “Say please, Edward.”

Shit, but he was about to beg, wasn’t he?

“P-please,” he whimpered, because Roy was nibbling at his earlobe and gripping his hips and still had a commanding hold on the back of Ed’s throat.

“There we go,” the General said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

+

He’s wanted this ever since his hormones decided to fling his sexuality against the wall that is Roy Mustang and see what sticks.

But imagining this and actually feeling Roy slowly sliding into him from behind, biting harshly at the join of Ed’s neck and shoulder, trapping Ed against his dorm room desk, is something else entirely. Not exactly an out of body experience—no, definitely not—but an out of mind one, certainly.

Roy groans as he pushes forward, the slight resistance suddenly yielding to his cock, and Ed desperately tries to pull himself together, but frankly he’s starting to shake apart and he’s not even sure he’s ashamed of it.

The initial stretch is enough to have Ed moaning unashamedly now. He loves a little pain with his pleasure, he’s not shy about admitting that. Roy is giving him a taste of how this could really go, if Ed asked for it—rough, a little mean, dominating, passionate. He’ll take this for now, though. Maybe there will be another opportunity…

Fuck, he can’t think like that. Already this is a risk. No matter what they promised at the beginning, he knows this will change something between them, and sleeping together again is a bad fucking idea.

Anyway, he’s getting ahead of himself.

It’s at that moment that Roy changes the angle of his hips just right and his next thrust drives straight into Ed’s prostate. Ed keens brokenly, struggling to keep somewhat quiet, thin dorm room walls considering, and Roy slides his hand around to gently squeeze underneath Ed’s chin.

“Is this alright?” he asks, slowly pressing down till Ed’s air supply is mostly cut off. Ed can’t get any sound out, now, so he nods and pants and lets his tongue hang out over his bottom lip. “I won’t hurt you,” Roy promises him.

Maybe, Ed thinks. But it’s my own damn fault if you do.

With that established, Roy draws his cock out, snaps his hips forward, and begins to set a faster pace. His accuracy is at 90% where Ed’s prostate is concerned, or something around that. Ed’s a little too fucked out to do percentages right now. At any rate, it’s going to be one hell of an orgasm.

It starts rolling through him in increasingly strong waves and he’s gasping and holding onto the edge of the desk for dear life. Tears ease out of the corners of his eyes, making the surface below his cheek wet and slick. The sight must be doing it for Roy, too, because he seems to be barely holding onto his self control. Even so, something about it is tender, which is just fucked.

And all Ed can think as he comes is, I love him.

It sends his thoughts to a screeching halt even as his body sears through orgasm, leaving him shaking and devastated in its wake. He feels himself clenching wildly around Roy. He cums—probably all over the floor, but who the fuck cares—completely untouched. If he could, he’d scream. Or, perhaps, say Roy’s name, which would be so much more damning.

Roy presses down on him heavily, chest heaving, and it’s clear he came, too, while Ed was having an existential crisis on so many levels that it feels like something has fundamentally shifted within him.

Their sweat starts to cool. Ed realizes he is squeezing his eyes shut and blinks them open to take a surreptitious look over his shoulder at Roy’s face, who is still panting slightly above him, eyes closed, with an unmistakable look of bliss on his face. His hand, though relaxed now, still gently holds Ed’s throat. Ed’s flesh leg is also trembling. If Roy is too quick to pull out, he’s pretty sure he’s going to slide to the fucking floor.

Still, he wonders what Roy must be thinking—if anything—in the aftermath.

Gently—gently—Roy brushes a hand down Ed’s back and eases himself out. Ed can already feel cum start to drip down the inside of his thigh. He’s not entirely sure whose it is, but the idea that it’s Roy’s is making his cock twitch still.

Roy takes him by the elbow and waist, helping him straighten up, and together they kind of hobble-shuffle over to Ed’s tiny bed. Roy helps him down onto it and then eyes him. Ed raises an eyebrow, but then scoots over towards the wall so there’s enough room for the other man to lie down with him, if he accepts the invitation—another dangerous proposition, but after whatever the fuck that was, what’s a little more risk?

After a moment of hesitation, Roy slides in next to him and pulls the covers up to their waists. He buries his face in Ed’s pillow and releases a deep, deep sigh.

“I needed that,” Roy says, muffled.

“Yeah, guess I did, too,” Ed admits. Neither of them are really touching each other more than the confined space is making them—just elbows and knees and maybe a foot, although it’s Ed’s automail so who knows. “Shower’s all yours, whenever you want it.” Roy looks at him. Ed adds, “Unless you want another round.”

Roy chuckles. It’s quiet and comfortable, familiar like it is whenever they’re out of the office together. Normal. “Give me a minute.”

Ed smirks, but lets his eyes drift shut. He dozes, adrift in a pleasant haze of orgasm-induced euphoria even while parts of him throb gently along with his heartbeat. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, probably. Excellent.

He doesn’t feel the shift of weight on the mattress next to him and barely notices the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. The rushing water just coaxes him to fall into a deeper sleep, roused only a few moments later by soft fingertips brushing some hair out of his face and swiping a warm cloth along his body while a voice murmurs at him quietly. He wishes he knew what they’d said.

When he peels his eyelids open some time later, sun is streaming into the one window near the bed, and he is alone.

+

“Fall asleep on the couch again, Chief?” Havoc asks with a cheeky grin. He’s chewing on a pen that has seen an inordinate amount of undeserved abuse. Mustang rubs at his lower back with a grimace.

“Wasn’t worth going home,” Roy says. He putters over to the percolator. Fuery had just put a fresh pot of coffee on a few minutes ago even though it was already eleven. By Ed’s counting, Mustang has had, like, three or four cups by now.

Ed resolutely turns his eyes back to his paperwork.

Stumbling through his morning ablutions had felt particularly…thorny. There was the full-body satisfaction of good sex and the familiar soreness he’d come to expect from it. Unfortunately, there was also an achingly hollow pit quickly opening in his chest. He’d gotten ready for the day on some sort of dazed autopilot, only freezing in surprise once when he realized his uniform was draped neatly over his desk chair, boots lined up on the floor by the door and belt coiled on the desk. Roy must have…

Nope. Nuh-uh. He is decidedly not thinking about it, especially on the clock.

Everything else has been so normal this morning that it feels uncanny. So, that’s that, then.

Not that he’d expected much else. He had not expected Roy to stay and…cuddle…or some shit. Mustang had taken exactly what was explicitly on offer and no more—sex, a shower, a strategic retreat up to his office couch. It was respectful if not a little disappointing. For some reason, Roy abiding by Ed’s boundaries, and being sure to keep the space between them at a friendly distance intimacy-wise afterwards, really grated on Ed. He couldn’t help wanting more, as he’d predicted, as he had always wanted. But it was kind of Roy not to just fall asleep next to him. It was kind of him not to stay the night, so that Ed would never know what it was like to wake up pressed close to Roy’s sleep-warmed body.

He really has to get a fucking grip, though. Mustang is acting normal, and so will he.

Ed resolves to see if Al wants to go out tonight. Maybe finding a distraction would be a good idea.

+

Alphonse meets Ed at a favorite haunt of theirs at around nine o’clock that night. It’s a trendy jazz club Al had discovered with some school friends. The atmosphere is magical in that way that only hazy, smokey, low-lit clubs can be. The drinks are decently stiff.

Also it caters to the university crowd, so most of its patrons are around Ed and Al’s age, more or less. The two of them are still only 22 and 23, despite Al’s advanced position in the graduate school and Ed’s obvious military bearing—which he hates knowing he’s developed—seeming to suggest they must be older. Honestly they both still look sixteen, so they were never quite going to blend in anyway.

“Cheers,” Al says, tipping the side of his glass into Ed’s. Al is on to the gin part of his liquor tour. It is an ongoing project of his to try every bottle on the wall while he figures out what he likes and dislikes. It’s taking him a while, though—more than a couple years now—because Al is perpetually a lightweight, unlike Ed who has gained quite the tolerance drinking with the team. He sips the drink du jour and then scrunches his nose. “Hmm.”

“What?” Ed asks. He sucks up some of the foam from the top of his beer, letting the bubbles pop on his tongue before swallowing.

“Elderflower,” Al says. “Still can’t decide if I like it or not.”

They let the ambiance of the club float around them for a while, content to sit together in silence at their little table and people watch. Ed bets Al won’t let him get through half his beer before he can’t take it anymore and—

“So, what’s going on?” Al asks. He eyes Ed over his gin and tonic, then raises both eyebrows for added effect.

Ed could pretend that there isn’t anything, but there isn’t much point, and he wants Al’s advice anyway.

“I slept with someone I shouldn’t have,” Ed says, just to rip off the bandaid.

Al’s eyebrows climb higher. “Is that so? Someone I know?”

Okay, he’s still going to be a little cagey about it. “Maybe. Doesn’t matter.”

“Alright,” Al says skeptically. He’ll figure it out sooner or later. “What do we need to do? Are we blackmailing someone? Writing a love confession? Picking out someone to go home with for a rebound?”

Ed sighs and puts his chin in his hand. “The latter, probably.”

“You sure?”

He shrugs. He lets his eyes flit over the dark club. “Yeah. It’s for the best.”

“Because you shouldn’t get anymore involved with this person?” Al asks. Ed nods. Al’s eyes narrow. “Because you already have feelings for them and now it’s clear that sleeping with them has irrevocably altered your relationship with them, and it’s complicated, or at least you think it is, and you also think the best path forward now is to suppress your feelings, avoid any kind of confrontation about it—with yourself or otherwise—and have indiscriminate sex with strangers until you think you’re over it?”

“...Yeah.” Damn him.

Al leans back in his chair and sips his drink daintily. “If you say so.”

Ed holds back from hissing that Al’s the one putting words in his mouth. He rolls his eyes. “Don’t question me.”

“Uh huh. Brother, for being the older and wiser of the two of us, you aren’t all that wise, you know,” Al says. “At least not when it comes to interpersonal relationships. Or feelings.”

Ed scoffs and tries to interrupt.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Al says, talking over him.

“No, I don’t.”

Al snorts, but continues. “I think you deserve to be with someone you love and who loves you. Most of the time, ‘complicated’ is just an excuse we tell ourselves because we’re afraid. Most of the time, feelings between two people are really rather straightforward. You just have to actually talk about them.” He sighs, then reaches over to brush a hand over Ed’s shoulder and squeeze it lightly. “It’s okay to tell someone what you really want, whether or not they’ll offer it in return. I think he’ll understand.”

“Who?” Ed squints at him.

“Who indeed?” Al says. He turns back to the jazz and his drink. “So, any particular requirements for tonight’s distraction? Tall? Dark haired, perhaps? Bastardly—?”

Ed cuts him off and pretends he didn’t hear any of that. “I’m not picky, just pathetic.”

Al rolls his eyes, but, tellingly, doesn’t deny it. “I keep telling you that Jim would be nice for you. He’s a sweet guy, Brother. He thinks you’re cute.”

“You don’t really want me to fuck one of your friends just as a one-off, do you?” Ed asks, hoping for a blush. Ed’s not disappointed by the face Al makes in reaction.

“Why are you so crude all the time?” he asks. “It’s a good thing Jim thinks your vulgarity is charming—I don’t know why, though.”

“Jim wants a steady boyfriend, Al, not a one night stand.”

Al shrugs. “Maybe. That could be a good thing, right? It doesn’t have to be serious, but maybe a steady relationship would make you feel…more…settled.”

They’ve had this conversation before. Ed is plenty ‘settled.’ He’s just settled so thoroughly that there would be no tearing him out now, not without ripping parts of himself away. He’s entrenched in Mustang’s web with no plans to escape. He fully expects to be at the bastard’s side all the way to the top, or die trying.

Al thinks that there’s more to life than a career. Ed doesn’t even think of it as a career. It’s his purpose, now that Al is whole. He has happily—or as happy as someone like him gets—dedicated himself to it.

Partially, dating would be a distraction. He works a lot of overtime. He doesn’t want someone getting in the way of his duty, and he doesn’t want to hurt anyone by having to put Mustang first. No one outside of teams like his really understands what it’s like to be a part of something so demanding.

Partially, he has never really liked the idea of letting a stranger in close enough to figure him out.

Partially, he has always wanted someone else.

Mostly, he’s content with the way things are now. He likes hanging out with his brother and the team. He likes work. He likes the occasional trip to Resembool or Rush Valley to see Winry. He’s fine seeking anything more physically intimate, more sexally stimulating, with people he doesn’t really know, and who don’t know him.

Well, he was content until last night.

Also, frankly, Jim seems way too nice and Ed is kind of afraid he’ll break him.

“Rain check on that conversation,” Ed says. He’s spotted a beefy blonde near the hallway to the back door. He tips his chin towards the young man so Al will know to turn and look. Al sighs feelingly, but does as directed.

“He looks like he can bench press you,” Al says.

“Awesome.”

“No comment,” Al says. He’s supportive, though. He turns a keen eye back on the man. “Clothes are well-tailored, neat hair, and…ah, yeah, he just glanced at that guy’s ass as he walked by. Could be good for it.”

“That’s all the encouragement I need.” Ed drains his beer and makes to stand. “Sorry to cut it short, Al, and thanks. I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

Al sighs again, but smiles up at him. “Of course, Brother. Be safe, have fun, et cetera, et cetera. I’m going to go see if Sophie and Alice are free and want to go dancing.”

Ed claps him lightly on the back and then starts weaving his way over to the blonde.

+

Okay, it’s not…bad. It’s just that, despite how frankly fucking huge this guy is, he kisses like Ed’s made of glass. Sometimes that’s fine, but right now Ed really needs to be basically obliterated so he can erase all memory of last night from his mind.

The guy—never caught his name—is pressing Ed to the wall in a dark corner of the club and mouthing at his neck. He’s even got Ed almost up on tiptoe, with his thigh wedged between Ed’s and holding him up. All great signs.

Ed’s just not feeling it.

Fuck.

“Do you want to get out of here, sweetheart?” the guy husks into his ear. Ed doesn’t really want to leave with him, but he doesn’t want to go home empty-handed, either, figuratively speaking.

“Nah. But if there’s a stall free in the bathroom, I’ll blow you,” he says bluntly.

The hulking blonde doesn’t seem to mind that idea. He drags Ed enthusiastically through the packed crowd and into the men’s room.

It’s one of the things Ed didn’t get to last night, so maybe that will help. There’s nothing to compare it to. He didn’t sink to his knees in front of Mustang and pull his dick out with reverent fingers. He didn’t gaze up at the bastard through his eyelashes, didn’t part his lips to suck on the tip of his cock, didn’t let Roy fist two hands in his hair and thrust lazily into Ed’s mouth.

This guy is thrusting more indiscriminately, and Ed chokes a bit before he gets used to the pressure hitting the back of his throat. For a weak kisser, he sure doesn’t seem to care about how Ed feels getting face fucked in a dirty public restroom.

Whatever. Ed doesn’t care either.

He closes his eyes and moans around the guy’s dick to encourage him to get off faster. He’s not even really touching the man. He has both hands braced on either side of the guy’s hips against the stall divider.

There’s no warning before Ed’s suddenly swallowing cum. He breathes roughly through his nose to get through it and blinks rapidly. Rude.

He’s pulled up and against the taller man when it’s over, who gives him a, “Sorry, babe,” and then kisses him again.

“No worries,” Ed lies.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Russell,” Ed lies again.

“Can I get your number, Russell?” the guy asks. “You were good—real good.”

“Listen, you’re cute,” he says. “But I don’t really do repeat performances, you know?”

The blonde man shrugs and releases him. “No worries. I understand that sometimes you just need to—”

“Feel something?” Ed asks. The guy kind of grins. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to get you off, or…?”

Ed shrugs. “I’m fine.” He’s not even really hard anyway.

“Happy I could be of service, then,” the man says. He makes a show of tucking himself back in his pants and faux-straightening Ed’s clothes as well. There isn’t much to do in that department aside from fixing his ponytail, which Ed doesn’t trust anyone but himself to do. They exit the stall and Ed drifts to the sink to rinse his mouth out and retie his hair. The other man drifts over and washes his hands. When they’re done, he catches Ed’s eye in the mirror and gives another friendly smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Ed says. The guy leaves.

+

Ed doesn’t have a phone in his dorm room, but he doesn’t want to use the payphones out in the lounge, either, so he ventures up to the office even though it’s Saturday morning. He’s not in uniform, but no one is really around anyway.

He parks his butt in his office chair after making a cup of coffee. He dials Al’s number.

Al lives in an apartment with two other guys he’d met at university because he had wanted the ‘full college experience’—one of whom is Al’s friend Jim. Therefore Ed isn’t surprised when one of the two roommates answers the phone. Once again Ed wonders why in the hell Al would want Ed anywhere near Jim when they live in the same damn apartment.

“Hey Jim,” Ed says. “It’s Ed.”

“Oh hi, Ed!” Jim says with his customary cheer. He’s an energetic guy and kind of fatally optimistic, if you ask Ed. Ed’s also an optimist—just privately. “I’ll get Al for you.”

On the other hand, Ed really appreciates it that the guy knows how to cut to the chase sometimes.

Al comes on the line a few moments later. “Good morning. How are you feeling today, Brother?”

“Eh,” Ed says.

“I see,” Al says. “No good?”

“Not really. He was nice, though.”

“‘Nice.’” He can envision the way Al must be rolling his eyes and rubbing at his forehead in irritation. “Why are your standards so low? I didn’t raise you right.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” Ed points out.

“I tried. Really, I did.” Al sighs. “Want to come over and get brunch?”

“No thanks. I’ve got some work to catch up on.”

“Ed. It’s Saturday.”

“So?” Ed leans back in his chair and crosses his legs on top of the corner of his desk. Usually Hawkeye would throw something at him for doing that, but she’s conveniently enjoying her day off. That said…

Someone turns the key in the lock to the outer office and Ed glances over in surprise right as Mustang pushes open the door. They pause, staring at each other, then Roy raises both eyebrows in question and pulls the door closed behind him. Ed shrugs and points at the still-steaming coffee pot.

Al is simultaneously scolding him about his unhealthy work ethic. “It’s keeping me out of trouble,” Ed points out, putting an end to the ranting.

“I’ll show you trouble. I should come kidnap you,” Al says. “Forcefully feed you breakfast foods till you can’t help but enjoy it, you little shit.”

Ed chuckles uncomfortably. He has learned to take Al’s threats seriously, even though Al’s voice sounded more fond than anything while he said it. Time to distract and deflect. “Yo Mustang,” Ed calls. “Al says ‘hi.’”

“Oh, is Roy there?” Al sing-songs into the phone.

“Yeah, he just walked in,” Ed says.

Roy raises his coffee mug in the air in greeting and says, “Hello to Alphonse.” He shuffles into the inner office, presumably to both give Ed privacy as well as start on whatever miscellaneous paperwork Hawkeye threatened him with yesterday.

“Tell him hello back, and please—politely—ask after his health and also if he would like to have dinner with us and the Hugheses tomorrow night. Gracia told me I should corner him if I could.”

“Uh huh.” Ed idly twirls the cord of the phone around his finger.

Mustang walks back into the outer office with his arms full of file folders, a pen, and his coffee mug. He dumps the whole lot on Hawkeye’s desk and sits in her chair. Ed raises his eyebrows at him, but Roy waves at him to ignore him.

“Also tell him,” Al is still saying. “That you really wouldn’t mind at all if he’d like to get dinner with you sometime, or just bend you right over the desk because clearly one night wasn’t enough and—”

“Al!” Ed screeches. His feet slip right off the desk and land with a very heavy clank—at least in the case of the left one—on the floor. Roy looks up with an amused smirk. “I’m gonna murder you,” he hisses into the receiver.

“Sure. We’ll see how you feel after Roy’s given it to you—”

Ed slams the phone down into the cradle and yanks his hand away as if burnt. “God, Al,” he says, horrified.

“Everything alright?” Roy asks.

Color rushes up to Ed’s cheeks. “Yup.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.” Ed pulls a report to himself across the desk and uncaps a pen with his teeth. “Just going to get to work now.”

“Mm,” Roy responds.

Silence falls.

“Why are you out here anyway?” Ed asks when he can no longer help himself. “Instead of in your den of scheming.”

Roy glances up again and smiles. “I like your company.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Ed narrows his eyes.

“No need to look so suspicious,” Roy says. “I’ll mind my own business, if you like.”

“Sure you will.”

“Would you prefer I didn’t?” Roy asks.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ed asks, out loud this time. “Nevermind. Do your work. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“You know,” Ed says. He draws a finger across his throat menacingly and then points at Hawkeye’s desk.

Roy has the good sense to look a bit green about the gills and starts scribbling on the first paper he can find.

They work in solid silence for an hour or so before Roy stops tapping his pen in a sharp staccato against the desktop and looks up at Ed. “How’s Alphonse, by the way?”

“Ask him yourself when you show up at Gracia’s tomorrow.”

Roy grimaces.

“What’s with the face?” Ed asks.

“Between you and me? I’m rather avoiding Gracia,” he admits.

“Why?”

“Ah, well…she’s been on my case lately, about a particular matter that Maes often used to champion,” Roy explains evasively. He reaches for his mug.

Ed snorts. “She’s nagging you about getting married, huh?”

Roy chokes a bit into his coffee. “How do you know about that?”

“I know a lot of things.”

“Clearly.”

“So why aren’t you?” Ed asks.

“Why aren’t I what?” Roy asks.

“Married. Idiot.” Roy just gapes at him, which is a pretty funny look for him. Ed smirks. “You fuck around, but you’re not fooling any of us. I know you’re a romantic at heart.”

He really wants to know, actually. He wonders, while Roy continues to gape at him, if he’s crossed some sort of line, though. Except that Roy himself wouldn’t hesitate to ask any of the rest of them personal questions about their love lives. Havoc’s in particular is a favorite topic of his.

Roy’s face reverts to one of his usual bastardly expressions, which means he’s found a way to turn it around to Ed. Fair play. “Well, what about you? I could say the same of you, Fullmetal.”

Ed scoffs.

“Miss Rockbell might not have ended up aligning with your preferences in the end, but for a time it seemed you wouldn’t hesitate to settle down with, if not her, at least someone like her.”

Ah. The whole ‘settling’ thing again.

“I don’t have time,” he says, lying only a little bit. Just a tiny little bit. “You and I are both practically married to our work, anyway. I don’t know why I asked.”

Roy hums quietly and spins his pen around on the desk. Finally he says, “I haven’t quite found someone who truly understands, yet.”

Ed’s gaze jerks up to meet his again, but Roy isn’t looking at him. Instead he’s frowning down at the tabletop.

“That, too,” Ed admits. Though…well…Roy would understand—does understand—doesn’t he?

He’s about to do another very stupid thing.

“You know,” he starts slowly, “We could keep fucking each other.” He shrugs to keep it cavalier, using the crude term to hide the fact that he’s scared of what he’s saying under a layer of casual indifference. He’s scared of the offer, and of being rejected. “If we’re both, you know… Well, it would be convenient. Neither of us has someone, or time to date to try to find someone, and neither of us will be offended when work comes first. So, y’know…we can get our rocks off without any…” He wants to say ‘complications,’ but boy is that the wrong word. ‘Consequences’ also sounds very bad.

“Convenient,” Roy says slowly.

“Yeah.” Ed shrugs again. “Like, friends with benefits.”

Mustang watches him closely, face guarded, but he’s still twirling the pen around so he’s clearly not entirely unaffected.

Ed huffs. “For a guy who so casually propositioned me two days ago, you’re awfully thoughtful about this. Don’t worry. If you find some chick to marry while we’re doing this, I’ll fuck off.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Roy says finally.

“Then what?”

“Nothing.” The older man stands from Hawkeye’s desk and saunters around it to approach Ed’s. Ed raises his eyebrows expectantly. “You really want to do this?”

“Why not?” Ed does not actually want Roy to answer that question. “I like sex. I like having sex regularly. It’s a big pain in the ass trying to get it regularly—pun absolutely intended.”

Roy chuckles. He moves around to Ed’s side and perches on the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms.

“And this way now when you piss me off I can funnel all of my well-placed aggression exactly where it’s due.” He grins up at the other man. “And you piss me off a lot.”

“I do have a remarkable talent for it.” Roy leans forward just enough that he can reach over and tug gently on Ed’s bangs. “Friends with benefits. You’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Edward.” Ed’s breath hitches. For a moment he doubts. For a moment he wonders if this is when Roy will reject him. He doesn’t move. “Just promise me one thing,” Roy says. “Be honest with me when something changes.”

When. As if things haven’t already.

Roy leans in more, face inches from Ed’s. His thumb and forefinger come up to hold Ed’s chin between them. It seems like Mustang’s going to kiss him. Ed turns his face away fractionally, but it’s enough. Roy freezes. Ed eyes him. “I will if you will.”

“I promise,” Roy says.

Before Roy can continue with what he so clearly intends to do, Ed slides from the man’s grasp and his desk chair to settle on his knees in front of him. Ironic that last night he’d been trying to wipe Roy from his memory by doing this, and now the first thing he wants to do is imprint in it how good it will feel to swallow his dick down. He honestly had been regretting not getting around to that the first time.

Ed grasps the General by the hips and nuzzles at his fly. His eyes flicker up to gauge Roy’s reaction, which is extremely flattering. His lips are parted, eyes dark and hazy with desire and some amount of surprise. Ed snorts softly. He has no idea why Roy is surprised by anything he does at this point.

Nothing left for it but to christen their new pseudo-relationship the best way Ed can think of, which is by undoing Roy’s trousers, pulling out his already hardening length, and sucking it into his mouth in one swift movement. The General moans brokenly above him and a hand drifts to Ed’s hair.

Yeah, last night had really not been it.

Do you like how I look on my knees, General? Ed thinks as he works, eyelids fluttering when Roy squeezes his fist and pulls his hair. Ed swallows him down eagerly. This is the kind of shit that wet dreams are made of. He’s pretty sure he’s had a very similar dream more than a handful of times since about when he turned fifteen.

A stray thought occurs to Ed that maybe they should have locked the door, and they definitely were there on the pretense of working, but then Roy grunts his name and all his focus returns to the task at hand. He works Roy over with unparalleled enthusiasm. He’s going to make this good—for both of them. Which, now that he thinks about it—Ed feels around for Roy’s other hand before bringing it up to join the first in his hair and gives a sharp tug to try to get the older man to realize he wants this a hell of a lot rougher. He must get the point across, because after Ed releases him, Roy tightens his grip and then pulls Ed onto his dick on the next pass, and Ed gags around him but can’t help moaning, too.

Roy thrusts into him greedily then before he has to slow down to say, “Ed, I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

Which is exactly what Ed wants, so…

He clenches his fingers in the meat of Roy’s ass. He flicks his gaze up to watch, to see Roy come undone when he speeds up.

“Fuck,” the General growls. He holds eye contact, even when his cock throbs suddenly and cum splashes across Ed’s tongue. He swallows it dutifully, rapturously, reveling in the taste of the man he wants so badly and the sheer fucking fact that this is even happening at all. Damn the consequences. He is going to milk this for all its worth.

Roy pants slightly through parted lips when he finally pulls back. He smooths Ed’s hair back from his face and smiles. Ed clears his throat and grins up at the older man in return. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Ed says. His voice is very rough. Roy only chuckles, but then he reaches out and swipes a thumb across Ed’s bottom lip all the way to the corner to catch an errant drop of cum—almost tenderly. He brings it up to his own mouth and, with a smirk, sucks it clean. His eyelashes flutter closed, fanning across his beautiful cheeks.

Ed feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

“You weren’t doing anything too important today, were you?” the bastard asks. He helps Ed up, steadying Ed against him to let him shake out his sore knee.

“Why? You want to come back to my place?” Ed asks.

“Well, since you so kindly invited me, that sounds lovely.”

+

Roy gets Ed off with two fingers up his ass and his mouth attentive on Ed’s cock, and they both collapse on the tiny dorm bed afterwards, breathing heavily. Roy is still half-clothed—had barely even been fully clothed after they’d quickly righted him enough back up at the office so that they could sneak down to the barracks. Luckily there was nobody around to take a second look at them and notice anything amiss.

In order to fit together on the mattress while lying on their backs, they are touching from shoulder to foot. Neither of them moves.

“Shit,” Ed laughs quietly after a few moments.

“Indeed,” Roy says.

“Where’d you learn—”

“Aerugo,” Roy says.

“Have you ever been to Aerugo?” Ed asks.

“No, but Leah has.” Roy tips his head towards him and smirks.

He has met Roy’s sister Leah. “That checks out,” Ed says.

They dissolve into what can only be described as giddy laughter, bodies curling together while they shake with it. Ed catches his breath and opens his eyes. Roy’s face, a very pretty shade of red still from their coupling, is mere inches away. When he exhales, Ed breathes the same breath.

Roy trails light fingers up and down Ed’s bicep and quirks a soft smile. Ed closes his eyes again.

“Why do you still live in the dorms, anyway?” Roy asks.

Ed sighs. He doesn’t really want to talk about it, but… “I couldn’t stand living alone when I tried it. Here I can have my own space, but at least when I come home at the end of the day I can hear other people moving around.”

“Why don’t you live with Alphonse?”

“It was time for Alphonse to go figure things out without me constantly around. I didn’t want to hold him back from having a normal college kid experience—or as normal as he gets, being their youngest postdoc in history,” Ed says.

“I hardly think you were holding him back, Ed.”

Ed glares at him, but it’s pretty weak. “It’s nice he’s nearby, though,” he continues. “Thought he’d maybe fuck off to Xing for a while, which he certainly deserves the opportunity to do. Ling would love it. Anyway, he stayed. He offered to let me move in with him, but he has roommates.” He pulls a face.

“What’s wrong with his roommates?” Roy asks.

“Nothing. They’re just there constantly.”

Roy laughs. “By definition…” he says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ed rolls his eyes. “Plus…”

“What?” Roy asks.

Ed huffs out a breath. “This way I’m nearby…if you need me.”

“Ed—”

“Shut up.” Ed pokes him in the chest. “You’d do it if it was the other way ‘round. You would.”

“Most likely,” he admits. “Regardless, thank you. It means a lot to me that you stayed. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to convey how much I appreciate that, as well as value your friendship.”

“You don’t have to flatter me to get in my pants again.”

“I’m not,” Roy insists. He laughs and grapples for Ed’s wrists when Ed starts play-batting at him. “You little brat.”

Ed gasps. “Calling me ‘little’ will not get you into my pants again. Are you stupid?”

“Undoubtedly,” the other man says. He pulls Ed’s hands down between them, but doesn’t let go.

“Hey, you want to take a nap here and then get a shower and some lunch?” Ed asks.

“I’d be delighted,” Roy says.

“Look at us,” Ed jokes. “Doing some proper Saturday shit. Al would be proud.”

“Riza, too, probably.”

+

Alphonse elbows Ed hard in the ribs. “Ed. Are you listening?”

They walk side by side down the street, breaths fogging in the early evening sunlight on the way to Gracia’s.

“Hmm? Sorry.” He doesn’t bother pretending that the elbowing hurt. “What were you saying?”

“Nevermind.” Al sighs. “Go on, tell me about it—whatever has you so distracted. If you make me have to guess I’ll just get it right, so fess up and save us both the effort.”

Ed shoves his hands as deep as they will go in the pockets of his coat and buries his nose in his scarf. “Don’t want to,” he grumbles.

They skip up the steps to Gracia’s building and head on through the lobby, waving at her doorman as they go by. They enter the lift and Al turns to Ed with his mouth open—ready to interrogate him, no doubt—when someone calls, “Hold the door!” Ed throws an arm out to keep the door from closing while Roy Mustang sort of dashes onto the elevator with them. His hair is windswept, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes bright, and seeing him rushing makes him appear rather boyish.

“Ah! Hello, Elrics,” he says, giving them both a sincere smile. He turns around to face forward as the doors close, standing right between Ed and Al.

“Hello, General,” Al greets him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Roy chuckles. “Is it? I thought you might be an agent of Gracia’s when it comes to threats about dinner.”

“It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to tell. A lady’s business is her own.”

“You mean ‘a lady’s plots,’” Ed grouches.

Roy glances over at him with a raised eyebrow and Ed sinks further into his coat and scarf. Then Roy looks at Alphonse, who shrugs. “He needs to get laid more often,” his traitor brother says, matter-of-fact as you please.

“Al!” Ed half shrieks. He leans back so he can reach around Mustang and swat Al’s arm.

His brother just smiles wider. “I wonder if you know anyone who can help with that, General?”

The doors to the elevator open to Gracia’s floor and Ed hurries out. Roy just laughs.

It’s not Ed’s fault he woke up cranky today. He really wants to blame it on stupid Mustang, who spent most of the day with him yesterday, lazing around having a stupidly nice time while they talked and dozed and eventually grabbed food after another languid round in the shower. It made waking up alone—again—on Sunday sting. And then he’d had a pile of paperwork to catch up on that he’d never finished the day before that was frustratingly hard to focus on. Plus, the changing weather was hell on his leg and all the old scar tissue.

Yeah, he really didn’t feel like talking about any of it with his brother. Al would never let that stand, especially the pain part. Al could never handle the daily reality of Ed’s lingering pain without tearing himself apart to try to fix it. There just wasn’t anything to fix.

Roy owns a key to Gracia’s apartment, so he lets the three of them in. “Where’s my favorite princess?” he calls as they enter and begin peeling off their outer layers.

“Uncle Roy! Big brothers!” Elicia shouts. She barrels down the hallway and throws her arms around all three men at the same time. Roy and Al hug back while Ed pretends to be squished to death between them all.

When she releases them, she steps back and places her hands on her hips. “I’m not a princess. I’m a knight.”

“My apologies,” Roy says.

“And who have you sworn fealty to?” Al asks. Roy drifts down the hallway ahead of them, presumably to find Gracia, while they hang back with Elicia.

Elicia thinks about it for a moment. “I suppose Uncle Roy will have to be king.”

“More like court jester,” Ed says. Al swats him on the arm and he rolls his eyes. “Al is definitely a knight, too.”

“Does that mean Ed is the queen?” Al teases.

Unfortunately for the future of Ed’s dignity, Elicia’s face lights up. She gasps and bounces on her feet a little. “Yes! Ed, you have the prettiest hair. You have to be. Please?”

“Why isn’t Gracia the queen?”

Elicia puts her hands on her hips and looks at him like he’s stupid. “Because she’s ‘Mom.’”

Well, can't argue with that. He sighs melodramatically and says, “Fine. Only if you promise to be loyal to me if Roy betrays me.”

She laughs and places a hand over her heart, then bows deeply. “I swear.”

Ed taps her once on each shoulder. “I hereby dub thee Sir Elicia, knight of the realm.”

“Swear him in, too,” she demands, once she’s straightened back up, and points at Al. Ed does. “Thank you, my queen,” Elicia intones magnanimously. She grins.

“You know, Elicia,” Al says, turning and guiding her down the hallway. “A kingdom can have two kings. Why don’t we have some mercy on Brother and call him King Edward, hmm?”

“But they’re still married, right?”

“Oh, definitely.”

+

It’s funny how even when your life is going through a period of upheaval, some things remain so unshakably the same that it throws you.

Dinner with the Hugheses, Al, and Roy feels liminal that way.

It puts Ed in a weird headspace and he remains quiet and thoughtful during their meal, opting to push food around on his plate rather than actually eat, even while the others laugh and talk like normal around him.

It’s funny how Ed didn’t even realize life had been stagnant for a while.

Not that that’s a bad thing. He’d really gotten used to the routine of it. He appreciated the routine of it. He felt like, for the first time, he had a place and a purpose that were both solid as bedrock beneath his feet.

And it’s funny how something so small as sharing your bed with the wrong—right—person shakes it all to pieces. This shouldn’t be so fucking huge, but it is.

A hand brushes against his thigh under the table and he barely resists startling at the touch. He glances over at Roy’s quietly imploring look, but other than raising his eyebrows right back he doesn’t respond. They’re friends, sure, but right now the other man’s gentle touch feels too much like love.

On their way out, after post-dinner coffee and whiskey and chocolate chip cookies, Elicia meets them at the door and shoves a piece of paper in Roy’s face. Roy takes it while trying not to trip over his half-tied shoe laces. It’s really fucking cute.

“I made this for you and Big Brother,” she says proudly.

Roy straightens it, looks at it long and hard for a few seconds, and then busts up laughing. It is clearly not the response Elicia was hoping for. She starts pouting immediately. Her mother peeks over Roy’s shoulder and smiles until she can’t help but giggle as well and says, “Oh dear.” Roy turns the paper around so Ed and Al can take a look.

It’s a drawing—and a pretty good one, too—of King Roy and King Edward holding hands and…maybe kissing? That part’s a little hard to tell, but their faces are definitely mashed together and there is an inordinate number of hearts filling the rest of the page. Their names and titles are written above them, with little knight Al and Elicia in the background. Al is in the armor, which is kind of funny and also kind of tragic. But Ed’s crown is bigger than Roy’s, so at least that’s something.

He blushes.

“It’s a wedding gift!” Elicia says.

“Wow,” Ed croaks.

“We should frame this,” Al says.

Roy turns it back around to gaze at it again, his face going all soft and gooey. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says to Elicia, and he must mean it. He makes sure the sincerity in his voice comes across strong and clear. Ed can’t help but admire how good he is at rolling with Elicia’s play-pretending.

“Have we made it official, then?” Gracia asks, still laughing a little. She’s looking at Roy with a very significant look on her face.

“Made what official?” Ed asks.

Roy turns away from them, clutching the drawing to his chest as if Gracia is going to take it away from him, and glares at her. “Gracia,” he warns.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Tie your shoes, Roy,” she says, like the General is a little kid. “We wouldn’t want you tripping and falling on your face on the way home, would we?”

Ed cackles at the face Roy makes, Elicia and Al not far behind.