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batsutousaiTitle: Dreaming in Red and Gold
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, canon-typical violence, pile 'o OCs, minor battering of female OC, female-specific slurs, off-screen torture of prisoners, mention of past abusive sexual encounters, sexual discussions (including consent-related)
Summary: When Drachma agrees to meet for peace talks at Briggs Fortress, General Roy Mustang is the one sent to represent Amestris. It just so happens that the Drachmans have their own Amestrisan, who is far too skilled at turning the most tedious of discussions into an exciting time.
A/N: I got a bit stuck partway through this chapter and got distracted by another FMA fic project for a while. Ed's the PoV for that fic, and getting back into Roy's headspace wasn't near as easy as I'd like to joke. So if it reads odd at all, that's why. Sorry.
The visit to Central Command went surprisingly well, all things considered. Roy's team managed to find more than enough to keep the two princesses occupied, trading off acting as tour guides and giving Roy the chance to drop by the treasury to haggle a fair reimbursement for his aunt's shopping, and ring Rush Valley after seeing the train wouldn't be leaving until well after lunch. He'd got Garfiel, rather than Al or Miss Rockbell, but the man had promised to pass on the news that Ed was staying at Roy's, so the two should head to Hawkeye or Havoc's once they got in in the morning and cool their heels there until someone managed to rouse a response from Roy's house. (Because while Al could probably deactivate Roy's traps from outside, without setting them off, neither of them could say what that would do to the chain of arrays, and giving people proof that his security could be taken down by a single alchemist was just asking for trouble.)
Breda had thought to ring up a small sandwich shop he and Havoc favoured, which was only a couple blocks away from Command's west gate, and managed to talk them into delivering lunch for everyone to the office, so they didn't have to chance the mess hall, or force the princesses to deal with all of the brass all at once in the officer's mess.
After lunch and a quick review of the current projects being conducted in labs two and three – both of which were under Roy's jurisdiction, as he was the highest ranked State Alchemist – he settled on taking them by lab three, mostly because one of lab two's current projects danced along the edge of human transmutation, and he didn't really want to know how Ed reacted to that. Too, his records showed Alex Armstrong was set to be at laboratory three that afternoon, and he and Ed hadn't seen each other yet.
The reunion between Ed and Alex had been every bit the comedy routine Roy had been hoping for, though Riza had been quick enough to lead Anastasia, Natalia, Orlov, and Francine away before Alex got his shirt off. Alex – once he'd stopped alternately flexing his muscles and crying for joy in Ed's general direction –had been more than happy to serve as a tour guide. He was also extremely effective at getting Ed to move on from something that piqued his interest, since he could just pick the blond up under one arm and carry him to the next thing, which also served as a source of endless amusement for Roy, Riza, Havoc, Francine, and the three Drachmans.
They rounded out the day with walking through one of the parks that was on the way back to Roy's house, Havoc purchasing some old bread from a vendor so Anastasia and Natalia could feed the ducks and small birds that flocked the pond the park had been built around, then caught dinner at a little hole-in-the-wall place that Roy had been going to since before he could remember. The food was wonderful, and Roy was close enough to the owner and his family that he knew their visit and anything they said during it would never pass the building's walls.
When they came within sight of Roy's block, he touched Riza's shoulder and murmured, "Could I trouble you to watch things for me for a couple hours?"
Riza cast him a glance. "Paying your dues to the madam?" she guessed.
Roy suppressed a grimace. "Yes." He nodded up at where Ed was regaling Anastasia, Natalia, and Francine with one adventure or another ahead of them. "Ed might come with me."
Riza nodded. "Good." She shot him a faintly amused look. "You're going to owe me."
Roy sighed. "A new gun, or something for Black Hayate?"
"I'll let you know when I decide."
"Of course you will."
Roy waited until they were in his home and everyone was taking off their shoes, Francine looking vaguely confused at the sign that she and Riza were staying, before offering, "I need to visit my aunt, if you wanted to come with me, Ed?"
Ed flashed him a sharp smile. "Gonna bitch about how much the food cost?"
Riza snorted. "Edward, when someone with access to your baby pictures asks for money, no matter how much, the proper response is, 'Yes, ma'am'."
"Thank you for that, Colonel," Roy muttered as Ed's eyes took on a speculative gleam.
Riza shrugged, entirely unapologetic, and Roy sighed before starting towards the stairs, because he preferred not to wear his uniform while he visited his aunt, especially given his rank.
"We cannot come?" Anastasia asked, before almost immediately continuing, "Ah. I guess we would not fit in, yes?"
Roy glanced back over his shoulder at her, putting on a considering look. "Maybe if you were showing a bit more skin..." And then he turned and hurried up the stairs, because Ed looked a little like he was going to slug him.
"Women don't typically visit that pub unless they're openly carrying a gun," Riza offered, "or are actively looking for a partner for the night."
Roy closed his room door on the continuation of that conversation, and quickly set about changing into one of his civilian suits. When he got back downstairs, he found everyone in the study, Riza answering questions about the city from the Drachmans, while Ed considered Roy's bookcases. "Ed," he called.
Ed glanced back at him, then asked in his perfect Cretan, "Where's the gun you mentioned being in here?"
Roy blinked and took a minute to recall the words he needed, then replied, "Second shelf from the ground. Gold." Because he'd wanted to not be visible from the street when pulling it out, given it was there in case of an attack, and he'd needed the book to be a colour that he could easily spot when his colour vision was shot, but wouldn't immediately draw the eye like a red book would. It was labelled as being a history of the train industry, with a focus on the laws that had shaped it. (The actual book the title had been taken from was an excessively dry read, and had very little value even for those interested in history or their railway service, as he'd been told by many, many people, so he dubbed it a book unlikely to be picked up by a casual browsing.)
Ed knelt and tapped the spine of the correct book three times. From his position in the doorway, Roy saw Anastasia's head tilting slightly, and he assumed she'd noted the position.
Ed got up and joined him in the doorway after holding his finger on that book spine for a moment. "Time to go?" he guessed.
"If you're done raiding my books," Roy agreed drily.
Ed flashed him a sharp smile. "Just seeing if you had enough to keep me entertained if Winry decides she needs my leg more than I do."
"Unlikely," Roy replied before turning and leading the way to the shoes.
"That Winry'll take my leg, or that you have enough books to amuse me? Because the latter is so very not true, I've got to tell you," Ed informed him as he grabbed his own boots.
"If you end up bored enough to start considering ways to remodel whatever piece of furniture you're stuck on, I'll have someone bring over research material from one of the alchemy labs," Roy offered carelessly.
Ed fell very, very still, and Roy looked over at him, concerned, only to find Ed staring at him with an odd gleam in his eyes. "Yes," he said, and his voice came out sounding rusty. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, sure. I'd like that."
Roy shrugged it off, half uncomfortable with, half drawn to the unfamiliar gleam in Ed's eyes. "Giving their work to you will shave off at least a week of work on any projects."
Ed huffed out a laugh as he followed Roy from the house. "So, what you're saying is, you're going to find a way to use me, no matter how many country borders I put between myself and the military."
Roy glanced at him, spotted the humour in gold eyes, and flashed Ed a smirk. "Of course."
"Oh, fuck you, Mustang."
Roy clasped his hands behind his back, amused, but reminded of something. "At the pub, please avoid last names if possible," he requested.
Ed snorted. "Sure. I've no problem with just calling you 'bastard' all night."
"I do have a first name," Roy pointed out, though he really didn't mind Ed's insults; they'd grown on him over the years.
Ed put on a confused look. "Are you saying your first name isn't 'Bastard'?"
Roy barely suppressed a laugh. "I have it on good authority that neither of my parents ever even considered that name for me."
"Well, that was rude of them," Ed complained, and Roy couldn't suppress his laugh that time.
Roy had managed to calm his laughter by the time they reached his aunt's pub, which didn't really help with the rush of uncertainty now he was actually there; just because he'd explained things to Ed, didn't mean he couldn't take the usual welcome Roy received the wrong way. And Roy...really didn't want to manage Ed's temper.
A hand slipped into his, their fingers folding comfortably together before Roy could look over to find Ed watching him with too-sharp eyes. "Roy?"
Roy squeezed Ed's hand, then brought it up to press a kiss against the back, couldn't resist a smile at the hint of pink that dusted across Ed's cheeks at that. "Come on," he murmured, kept Ed's hand, because his aunt's women weren't unobservant, and that might well be enough to warn them off from swarming him. Maybe. If he was lucky.
It was early enough in the evening that the pub wasn't jumping, but there were a couple of customers, and Emily, Peggy, and Dorothy were all on the floor, with Chris at the bar. Emily and Dorothy were both busy with their customers, but Peggy was fairly close, and she lowered her eyelids as she approached, purring out a welcoming, "Roy. It's been too long."
And, okay, Roy honestly didn't expect to feel Ed let go of his hand and wrap that arm around Roy's waist from behind, his chin on Roy's shoulder; it was a clear claim, and he found he was oddly warmed by it, when he felt like he should have been angry.
"Peggy," he offered in response, putting on one of his not-quite-so-charming smiles. "I'm afraid I'm spoken for for the foreseeable future."
She quirked a smile and dropped the predatory air entirely. "About time," she said, pitched not to carry beyond them, then held out a hand clearly meant for Ed. "I'm Peggy."
After a brief pause, Ed held out his free hand around Roy. "Ed," he said as she accepted his hand for a shake. As he withdrew his hand, he muttered, "You're a pain in my arse, bastard."
Roy cleared his throat, couldn't resist drily returning, "Not yet, I haven't been."
Ed groaned and complained, "Pervert," before letting him go.
Roy felt oddly cold without Ed pressed against his back, but he flashed the blond a smirk past it, while Peggy snorted at their byplay. "Come on; I thought you wanted to take Riza's advice and go asking after baby pictures."
"Teenager pictures," Ed corrected. "It's only equivalent that I get to see your awkward teen years."
"I'm sorry, you had awkward teen years?" Roy asked as he led the way towards the bar, leaving Peggy to her amusement at their expense. (And, likely, she'd slip off directly to let the other ladies who weren't in the tap room know he'd found someone to tie him down.)
Ed blinked, then snorted. "Smooth. Not falling for it, but that was smooth."
"Thank you." He flashed his best smile at Chris as they reached the bar. "Madam, you're looking as stunning as ever."
Chris snorted, apparently more interested in looking Ed over as they both sat in stools, than in returning Roy's joking greeting. "Hmm. Roy-Boy's mentioned you before," she announced, clearly recognising Ed from Roy's descriptions of him, from back in the days when he could use his aunt's information network to keep tabs on his most troublesome subordinate.
Ed blinked a couple times, then turned a twisted little smile on Roy. " 'Roy-Boy'?" he repeated, a worrying gleam in his eyes.
"Edward," Roy tried to warn, suspected it had come out as more of a whine.
Ed's smile widened. "I'm saving that."
"Of course you are," Roy muttered, rubbing at his face.
Chris laughed at him just before she sat two glasses down before them. "Is it 'Ed', or 'Edward'?" she asked as Roy peered out to find a tumbler of scotch in front of him, and he took it gratefully.
"Either," Ed admitted, picking up the beer she'd left him and taking a sip. He gave the glass a considering look, then shrugged and took another sip.
Chris snorted and turned to Roy. "Details, boy."
Roy sighed and drooped against the bar. "I may be housing royalty." He glanced at Ed, who was frowning into his beer, but didn't comment. They really should have discussed how much about Anastasia and Natalia Roy was going to pass on to Chris before stepping into the pub, or at least some time before now, because while Roy trusted his aunt to keep the information need-to-know, Ed had only just met her, and Roy knew how seriously he took his duties. He should have asked. Crap.
"May?" Chris returned, narrowing her eyes and looking between them.
Ed's expression tightened, clearly waiting for Roy's response. When he didn't say anything further, Ed let out an irritated noise and muttered, "Tell her whatever you fucking want."
Roy considered him for a moment around his scotch, suspected he'd be paying for this in some way later, then nodded and quietly told Chris, "The crown princess and her youngest sister. Ed's the crown princess' protection detail."
Chris hummed. "If even half the stories about you are true, Ed–"
"Probably," Ed muttered, and Roy couldn't quite resist reaching out and catching Ed's free hand, folding their fingers together. Ed let out a disgruntled noise, but he didn't try pulling away, actually tightened his fingers around Roy's. So maybe he wouldn't be paying for this. (No, this was Ed. He'd be paying for springing this on him without warning, but at least it didn't seem like Ed was angry.)
"–then she's in good hands," Chris finished, as though Ed hadn't interrupted, and Roy caught a glimpse of a smirk dragging at Ed's mouth. "I take it that means we have a treaty, then?"
Roy nodded. "Signed in two languages."
"Good." Chris took his almost-empty tumbler and refilled it, which was the closest she would come to a hearty congratulations in public.
Roy saluted her with the glass once he'd accepted it back, then took another sip.
Chris glanced over as someone stepped into the pub, watched to make sure he was distracted by one of the ladies, then turned back to Roy and Ed and said, "Keep talking, Roy-Boy. Unless you're telling me you're been breaking bread with a couple Drachmans without prying information from them?"
Roy snorted and settled in to fill his aunt in on the royal family. Once he'd started slowing down, Ed chimed in with information about the Imperial Court that Anastasia hadn't offered, things that she might not have even known would be of interest to Amestris. But Ed, who had grown up in the shadow of the military and, more importantly, Roy, knew exactly what Chris and Roy would be interested in, had probably searched out that information without even realising he'd been doing so (at least at first).
When Ed went on to offer similarly useful information on Creta and Aerugo, Roy knew he was right; Ed may not have left four years ago with the intention to help Amestris gain intel on her neighbours, but that's what he had done. And some of it, Roy realised, could be used to open more peaceful lines of communication with Creta and Aerugo, which was just so typically Edward that Roy eventually just had to lean over and kiss him.
Ed flashed him a bemused smile. "Are you drunk?" he asked.
Roy glanced at his tumbler, which Chris had been occasionally refilling with more scotch, rather than cutting him off like she usually did. "Possibly a little bit," he decided.
Ed snorted and waved a hand at Chris, who was handing off some drinks to Lise for a couple guys who had gone straight to her when they'd come in. When Chris finished and came over, Ed said, "I'm gonna take this dumb-arse home before I have to carry him."
Chris smirked. "Good plan." She collected their glasses as she added, "I'll charge the drinks to his tab."
"Oh, good," Ed decided as he hopped backwards off the bar stool. "Pretty sure all I have are Drachman rubles, right now. Maybe a handful of Cretan pesetas."
"Worthless," Chris informed him with a superior tone, before turning away.
"You know," Ed commented quietly to Roy as he slipped from his stool with far less grace, "that's sort of what everyone else thinks of the cen."
"Imagine that," Roy returned, wrapping an arm around Ed's waist because he could, rather than as any need for assistance.
Ed wrapped his own arm around Roy in return, and they stepped out of the pub together, Ed maybe taking a little bit of Roy's weight.
"I should have asked you about Creta and Aerugo earlier," Roy said once they were out on the streets. And Ed had clearly memorised their path, because he hadn't even waited for directions before turning the right direction.
Ed huffed. "Maybe. But since when have you trusted me to give an accurate report on anything?"
Roy sighed. "You're not fifteen any more."
Ed's steps paused for just long enough to be noticeable, then he shrugged. "I certainly hope not, or this is going to be a really fucking awkward relationship."
Roy snorted and shook his head. "Thank you for that, Edward."
"Just calling it like it is, Mr Fourteen-Years-My-Senior."
"What is your obsession with my age?" Roy complained, because, seriously?
Ed snorted and squeezed Roy's side. "Just happy to find that I'm more like my mum in at least one way."
Roy frowned and maybe he was more than a bit tipsy, because it took him almost a block to realise Ed meant, "Liking older men?"
"Mm-hm."
He knew that Hohenheim had been a Philosopher's Stone, not unlike Father, but he'd never got the full story there, and he couldn't quite keep himself from saying, "Should I ask about that age difference?"
"A few hundred years," Ed returned, his tone careless.
Roy choked out a cough and stopped walking, turned a disbelieving gaze on Ed, who had stopped with him. "A few hundred years?"
Ed flashed him a grin that spelt trouble. "Yup. He was the only human to survive Xerxes."
Four hundred years, Roy knew. But that also meant... "You're half-Xerxesian," he murmured. And that explained Ed and Al's unusual colouring, didn't it? Just like with the Ishvalans and Roy's own Xingan ancestry, Xerxesians must have had a particular colouring gene that dominated the hodgepodge mess of Amestrisan genetics.
Ed's grin twisted, looked a little like it hurt for a moment, before he managed to get it back under control, turned it into something calmer. "Yeah. Al and I are kind of an endangered race," he said, pitched like a joke, but Roy knew him well enough to suspect that Ed had spent plenty of dark nights beating himself up for not loving Miss Rockbell or any of the other women he knew the right way to continue the Xerxesian race with them.
If anyone brought it up later, Roy fully intended to blame pulling Ed into a hug in the middle of the pavement on the alcohol. The fact that Ed responded by hugging him back, grabbing fistfuls of Roy's shirt and pulling it tight over his back, could probably also be blamed on alcohol, even though Roy was fairly certain Ed had managed to nurse that same pint of beer the entire visit.
He just held Ed for a moment in silence, trying to find something to say, some way to tell Ed it wasn't his job to continue the Xerxesian race, but in such a way that he could laugh it off for appearances sake. He finally settled on, "Unless you and your brother want to debate how far removed you need to be to avoid the biological repercussions of incest, I don't think there's much chance to keep the Xerxesian bloodline from going extinct."
Ed let out a choked sound and pulled back, his eyes gleaming with amused disbelief. "You did not just–"
"That said," Roy continued as his brain made a weird little leap and he couldn't quite stop himself from following it, "I do have to wonder what your particular disability would have meant for any children, in terms of alchemical abilities."
Ed tilted his head to one side, expression turning thoughtful. "I don't think it would affect them at all," he decided, motioning that they should continue walking, which Roy did with a nod. "I mean, I guess you can say that access to the Gate is genetic, since not everyone has the ability to perform alchemy, and Al and I have hypothesised that our greater alchemy talents were a direct result of our Xerxesian ancestry, but giving up access to my Gate was a conscious choice and shouldn't have changed my genes in any way. That said, this is Truth we're talking about here, and its idea of equivalence tends more towards the 'fuck them over completely' spectrum, so it may well turn out that any children I might have had would have been as incapable of alchemy as the majority of the population."
Notably, Ed hadn't said 'as incapable of alchemy as me', although Roy doubted most people would even notice that slip, and fewer still would be able to guess at the reason for it.
"That's certainly true enough," Roy muttered, barely resisting the urge to lift his hand up to his eyes.
Ed shrugged. "I suppose the best way to send a giant 'fuck you' back, would have been to find another alchemist and let their uninterrupted connection serve in place of my own disability; as a general rule, you only need one alchemist parent to have the ability yourself." Then he glanced at Roy, that same trouble-making smile turning his mouth again. "Pity gender changes are human transmutation."
Roy raised an eyebrow at him. "Tired of being male, Edward?"
Ed hit him and snapped, "Just because I keep my hair long–"
"I like your hair long," Roy interrupted, hoping to stop that rant before Ed could really get going.
Ed huffed and deflated a bit. "Bastard."
So, compliments were apparently a good way to derail rants. He'd have to remember that.
Once they got back to the house, they were drawn into a discussion about what to do the next day. Since Al and Miss Rockbell were due to arrive in the morning, they made malleable plans to visit either the history museum or the art gallery, whichever Al and Miss Rockbell were more interested in. (Personally, Roy suspected they wouldn't be interested in either, but Al might just surprise him and be interested in the gallery. He'd find out soon enough.)
With their plans decided, Roy saw Riza and Francine to the door, then locked the house down and settled in, at Anastasia's direction, for some Drachman lessons. It was the first time Ed was both conscious and present for one, and while he kept any sign of being impressed hidden, he wasn't shy about offering some comments which helped Roy with some grammatical things that were giving him trouble.
Eventually, though, he had to beg off for bed, and Ed followed him after trading some Drachman with the three still in the study.
Roy was honestly going to go straight to bed, but then he made the bad life choice of looking over as Ed pulled off his shirt, found himself a little bit hypnotised by the way the muscles of his back moved as he freed himself from the fabric. Still in his trousers, Roy walked up behind Ed and wrapped his arms around his waist, took a moment to enjoy having the blond half-naked, then asked, "What was that about my being a pain in your arse?"
Ed looked back over his shoulder, gold eyes sparkling in the light from the bedside lamps. "Are you propositioning me, General Mustang?"
Roy pretended to think about that for a moment, then allowed, "I do believe I am, Major Elric."
Ed snorted. "Don't–"
And, oh, Roy was probably going to get punched for this, but he couldn't keep himself from breathing into Ed's ear, "Can I fuck you, Fullmetal?"
The broken sound Ed let out went straight to Roy's cock, and the blond sort of slumped against him, like his knees weren't capable of supporting him. "Oh, fuck," Ed whispered.
Roy raised an eyebrow, intrigued, even as he tightened his grip on Ed. "Something I should know about, Full–"
Ed grabbed a fistful of his hair and twisted around so he could crash his mouth against Roy's, effectively swallowing the rest of his second name. When he pulled back, there was a suggestion of pink across his cheeks, and he quietly offered, "I may have, a little bit, just a few– okay, it was more than a few, but there were–" He coughed and looked away, definitely blushing. "You would always call me that in my, ah, dreams."
Roy hid a smirk against Ed's neck, pressing a kiss there before murmuring, "You dreamt of me?"
"Don't–" Ed started, before Roy groped him through the tight leather trousers. "Oh, fucking– You never play fair!"
"You should tell me about some of these dreams," Roy suggested, and, oh, he was so going to hell for this. (Like he didn't already have a spot waiting for him down there.) "Perhaps we can–" he licked a line up Ed's throat, to his ear "–recreate them."
Ed made a valiant effort to suppress a moan, but failed miserably. "Hate you," he complained.
Roy responded to that by taking a step back that he really didn't want to take.
Ed swayed for a second, then spun around. His eyes were blown wide, glinting with desperate want, pink liberally dusting his cheeks. "Fuck you, you smug fucking bastard," he complained, before closing the space between them and leaning up to nip at Roy's bottom lip. "Beds didn't tend to feature."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Roy murmured as he ran his hands up Ed's back. "Well, I'm afraid I have a no sex at the office policy–"
"You suck."
"–which, if you can find a way to distract Riza for a couple hours, I might be convinced to forget about," Roy finished.
Ed stared at him for a moment, then put on the sort of smile that always preceded the worst sort of Elric Trouble. "I'll think of something."
"I should be more worried about that than I am," Roy murmured.
"Probably," Ed admitted, before spinning them so his back was to the bed, his smile doing terrible things to Roy's higher-brain functions. He slipped nimbly from Roy's hold, ducking down and removing his trousers and boxers in one deceptively easy move. "How about we save stupid fantasies and just make some of our own?" he suggested as he straightened.
Roy gave him one long look-over, couldn't help but think that, if Lust had looked like Ed, instead of that buxom woman, he'd have had a much harder time burning her to death because, dear god, this was temptation.
He swallowed, licked his lips, and roughly agreed, "I can get behind that plan," as he closed the space between them.
"And on top of it, and in front of it, and in it, I'm sure," Ed returned, smiling like sin incarnate.
"Definitely inside it," Roy agreed and Ed laughed as he pulled them backwards onto the bed in a controlled fall.
Roy would have to ask him about those dreams some other time, clearly.
Somehow, Roy was up and had plenty of time to start breakfast before the phone rang (which was, undoubtedly, assisted by Ed sleeping through Roy getting up). He left off staring at the oven to wander out into the hall and catch up the handset, bringing it up to his ear. "Mustang."
"Alphonse and Winry just arrived," Riza informed him.
"The casseroles should be done in about fifteen minutes," he offered, because he'd figured he might as well feed everyone, since he'd got up early enough, and Riza had a minor weakness for breakfast casseroles, which Roy tried not to take advantage of too often. "And I should be able to get everyone up and at least semi-decent by then."
Riza coughed in that way that meant she was trying not to laugh. "We may well take you up on that, sir."
"We'll see you shortly, Colonel," Roy returned with a knowing smile that she couldn't see, before hanging up and stepping over to the front door to disengage the traps there. He then made for the stairs, figuring he might as well start waking everyone up, and he could disarm the back of the house when he went to go check on the food after.
He found Ed slumped against the banister at the top of the stairs, his hair a messy halo around his head, wearing boxers and his black vest. "Mornin'," he offered, before letting free a wide yawn.
He looked adorable, and Roy was struck with the realisation that he was pretty much screwed, because if he could have this sight every morning for the rest of his life, he would be more than happy. He didn't even need the sex, just the sight of Ed, half asleep and rumpled. (Which wasn't to say he didn't want the sex, just that this could be enough.)
He had turned into a sop, and it was one hundred percent Edward's fault.
Roy cleared his throat and managed a smile that felt way too fond. "Good morning. Your brother and Miss Rockbell should be coming by in ten minutes or so."
Ed gave a slow blink. "Al and Winry?" he asked.
Roy ducked his head to hide his grin – not that he expected Ed was awake enough to take note – and made his way up the stairs. When he reached Ed, he pulled him away from the banister, and Ed came willingly into his arms, letting out a pleased hum as he dropped his head onto Roy's shoulder. "Should I call Riza back and tell her to hold off another hour so you can finish waking up?" he teased.
"Mmm... Maybe," Ed mumbled. "Breakfast ready?"
"Breakfast is baking; I'm making a casserole."
Ed was still for one, long, worrying moment, before saying, "Mum always used to make casseroles for breakfast on the weekends. She stopped when Hohenheim left." He sounded more awake, like childhood reminders had brushed away the last vestiges of sleep.
Roy twisted his neck so he could press a kiss to Ed's cheek, tightening his arms around him. "You'll have to be my judge as to who makes a better casserole, then. Though, I warn you now, Riza may have a thing or two to say if you declare mine inferior."
Ed snorted and pressed a kiss to Roy's neck. "Hawkeye's gonna be the one bitchin'. Really."
"I'm not going to be insulted if you like your mother's better than mine," Roy insisted. Then he let out a snort of his own and added, "I'd ask for the recipe, but if she ever wrote it down–"
"Shut up," Ed muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice. He pulled back enough to shoot Roy a scowl that was very obviously just for show before, grudgingly, allowing, "Granny might have it."
"Ah. Well then, if you decide you hate my casserole, we'll have to ring her and ask."
Ed rolled his eyes and leant up to kiss Roy, which he was all too happy to return, morning breath notwithstanding.
When Ed pulled back, looking very much awake, even if his hair was still a mess, he murmured, "I guess you're gonna want me to put some real clothing on."
"Please," Roy agreed. "While you may be used to Miss Rockbell and Alphonse seeing you in your undergarments, they won't be visiting alone."
"Uh-huh," Ed returned, nodding and looking unconvinced. "You just don't want Winry seeing me in boxers."
Roy didn't bother resisting a small, slightly helpless smile. "Ed, she's your mechanic and you have an automail leg; I'm resigned."
Ed snorted and pressed a brief kiss to Roy's mouth, then slipped from his hold and called something in Drachman that Roy couldn't even pretend to catch.
A giggle came from behind Natalia's closed door, while Anastasia's unlatched door opened enough for her to poke her head out. She said something to Ed, very clearly amused, and he retorted with something almost certainly rude.
Roy shook his head and left them to it, heading back down the stairs. He side-tracked long enough to ensure Orlov was up, then returned to the kitchen to disarm the back of the house and check on the food.
Everyone slowly trickled their way into the kitchen, and Roy fairly quickly found himself explaining breakfast casseroles to the two princesses. Ed had perked up upon hearing that this particular recipe had come from Gracia, and the conversation turned to the many and varied recipes she had forced onto Roy over the years, including one for her apple pie, which Ed seemed oddly delighted to hear he had.
Their guests knocked as Roy was pulling the casseroles out of the oven, which he suspected would have been a lot more of a problem if it had been anyone other than Al visiting, because Ed was out of the kitchen before he could finish calling back, "I've got it!"
"He is a little excited," Anastasia commented as she used Roy's spare oven mitts to pick up one of the dishes.
"A little bit," Roy agreed, leading the way out to the dining room, where he had a table that was a fair bit larger than the one in the kitchen, which rarely saw use, beyond a flat surface to accumulate paperwork brought home from the office, which Roy had already cleaned off.
Ed's greetings were loud and clearly happy, even when he shouted an 'ow' and bitched at Miss Rockbell for hitting him. Riza and Francine preceded them into the dining room, both amused, for all they were trying to hide it, and Roy waved them towards the table, even as he called, "If you're not hungry, Edward, we're happy to eat–"
He didn't get any further before Ed was rushing into the room, looking irritated and waving a fist at him. "Don't you fucking dare, bastard, or your stupid attempt gets an automatic failure and I'm telling Mrs Hughes. And she can bitch you out for making a mess of her recipe."
Roy snorted and offered a smile for the two who'd followed Ed in. "Alphonse, Miss Rockbell."
"Good morning, General," Al replied with a smile, as polite as ever. "Thank you for having us over, and I'm sorry for Brother."
"I'm used to your brother," Roy pointed out.
"Good point," Miss Rockbell said, casting Ed a glare.
Ed huffed and made a huge show of rolling his eyes. "Oh, fuck's sake, Win. Bitch at me after food, won't you?" He shoved Roy a half step back. "Scoot. Lemme introduce people."
Roy turned to take his spot with a sigh.
Ed led the other two from Resembool over to the open chairs to Roy's right. "Right, this is my brother, Al, and my friend and mechanic, Winry Rockbell. Al, Win, this is Anya Petrova, crown heir of Drachma; her youngest sister, Natalia Vorobyova; and Natalia's guard, Fedor Orlov, who you can totally ignore for the rest of forever."
Al, who had spent two years in the Xingan Imperial City, and was far more inclined than his brother to show royalty respect, gave a rather proper bow and offered, "It is an honour to make your acquaintance, your highnesses."
"I think," Anastasia commented with a teasing tone, "that we got the wrong brother."
"Oh, fuck off," Ed complained, yanking out the chair next to Roy.
"Edward," Al hissed, disapproving.
Ed turned and rolled his eyes at him. "Sit down so we can eat."
"Do you never change?" Al complained as he and Miss Rockbell took seats.
"Fuck, I hope not," Ed muttered.
Anastasia, clearly as familiar with the signs of an impending sibling argument as Roy, quickly distracted Al, asking him about Xing – "Ed mentioned you had spent some time there?" – and leaving it to Roy to distract Ed by serving him some of the casserole – which Ed pretty much devoured, then set about stealing some of Roy's after another couple servings emptied the pan, because he was a bottomless pit – while Riza drew Miss Rockbell into conversation. In that way, they were able to keep anyone from starting a massive row, and Ed eventually let himself be drawn into the conversation about Xing, clearly interested about what he'd missed while he'd been out of contact.
Once everyone was pretty much finished, Ed got up and started collecting dishes, while Riza said, to Al and Miss Rockbell, "There was discussion of going to either the history museum or an art gallery today, if either of you two were interested in coming along?"
"Art gallery?" Al asked, looking interested. "Central has one of those?"
"One of the State Alchemists started it up," Roy offered. "Lieutenant Colonel Havoc seems to think it's worth a visit."
"That might be nice," Al decided, before somewhat sheepishly offering, "I'm not sure I have the energy to face the history museum today, after being on a train all night."
"Same," Miss Rockbell added, looking rather tired.
"I fully understand," Roy promised.
Al gave a distracted nod, turning to look towards the doorway leading into the kitchen, through which they could hear the sounds of running and gently splashing water. "Is Brother–"
"If you mention it, he might stop," Roy warned, and Anastasia muffled a laugh. "Please don't mention it."
Al shot him a vaguely surprised look, before snorting and shaking his head. "I guess he can change," he mumbled.
"Not that much," Miss Rockbell insisted. "I bet his leg is a mess."
"He was moving on it fine," Al pointed out. When she scoffed, he added, "I know what he looks like when he's having trouble with his leg, Winry, and he's not."
"I do not know much of automail," Anastasia offered, "but I have seen him oiling it."
Miss Rockbell deflated slightly. "Well that's...something. It's probably scratched all to hell, though."
Anastasia shrugged, clearly having no good response to that. Roy, while he hadn't paid much attention to Ed's leg any of the times he'd had access to it, hadn't seen any large scratches on it, but he would be surprised to discover that it had survived four years completely undamaged. Not that he was going to be mentioning that, not until after Ed had his talk with Miss Rockbell, because he didn't want to be the one explaining to her that he and Ed were...whatever they were. Lovers, he guessed.
Al sighed and turned to Roy. "I guess you're pretty full-up, here," he said, and Roy shrugged and nodded; Anastasia and Natalia could probably double up and they could figure something out, but he suspected his house would get cramped fairly quickly, knowing how Ed and Miss Rockbell could be. "Winry and I can get a hotel."
"I'll ring through to the office before we leave and have Major Falman book your usual hotel. Two rooms?"
"Please." Al offered him a smile that looked a little tired. "Thank you, sir."
"It's my pleasure, Alphonse."
Anastasia shook her head, looking a bit disbelieving. "We truthfully did get the wrong brother," she commented, quiet enough that Ed shouldn't be able to hear her over the dishes. "How are you certainly related to him?"
"Possibly," Roy corrected automatically. " 'How are you possibly related to him'."
Anastasia huffed at him. "That, yes."
Al offered a vaguely helpless smile. "He stole all the rude genes, so all I ended up with were the nice ones?"
Miss Rockbell snorted. "Lies. 'Polite', maybe, but neither of you are nice."
"Ouch," Al complained, and Miss Rockbell flashed him a mean little smile. Al shook his head and leant against the table, focussing on Anastasia. "Okay, so, I have to ask, how did you and my brother meet? I can't see him being welcome in the Imperial Court."
"He was not," Anastasia admitted, "and many still look on him with disfav– No." She looked at Roy. "Neodobreniye?"
Roy frowned and shook his head, unfamiliar with that word. "Disfavour would work," he offered. "Or disapproval. Major Kozlova," he called down the table, and she looked up from her conversation with Riza and Natalia, a mostly-hidden glimmer of irritation in her stare. "A translation?" He looked at Anastasia.
Anastasia sighed, but repeated, "Neodobreniye?"
"Disapproval," Francine translated, the irritation vanishing entirely.
"Spasibo," Anastasia returned, before looking back at Al, while Francine returned to her own conversation. "Many in the Imperial Court still look on him with disapproval, but my father has changed his mind about him some, so he is no longer in danger of being deported."
Al covered his face, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Miss Rockbell didn't bother hiding her amusement, just started laughing out loud.
Anastasia's smile was knowing. "I have a long habit of going out into the Imperial City, in the areas where I am not known, and I met Ed during one of those trips. You will think it odd, I see, but I find his lack of deference...refreshing."
Al snorted, shaking his head and looking a little disbelieving. "Yeah, Brother has a habit of finding powerful people who don't mind how much of a jerk he is."
"I heard that, Alphonse," Ed announced, just before he stepped out of the kitchen.
Al, proving he was far from nice, flashed his brother a sharp smile. "Whoops," he said, entirely unapologetic.
Anastasia said something in Drachman and Ed rolled his eyes at her. "Shut up," he retorted, and Roy only understood that because Ed used it all the time and Anastasia had kindly translated it last night. Then Ed turned to Roy and, switching to Cretan, said, "Can you talk to my brother for me?"
Roy raised an eyebrow at him, couldn't help but notice Anastasia's irritated huff – she'd admitted that she only understood very basic Cretan, and Natalia only knew some key phrases – and Al's irritated frown. "Why would I be talking to your brother?" Roy asked, and Al's frown deepened.
"Because you don't want to deal with her, and I'm not talking to both of them on my own," Ed insisted.
Roy raised his other eyebrow.
Ed let out an irritated noise. "Do you want us to demolish your house?"
"Fine," Roy agreed, his tone a little too flat, but he had fully intended to stay out of this whole 'let Ed's family know we're sleeping together' drama.
Well, at least Ed wasn't sticking him with Miss Rockbell. (Not that Roy would have let him; that was one conversation he really didn't want to end up in the middle of until long after the smoke had cleared.)
Ed knocked a fist against Al's shoulder, then ordered, "Win, come on. You can bitch over the state of my leg upstairs," as he started out of the room.
"What did you do to my leg, Edward Elric?" Miss Rockbell demanded as she jumped to her feet and hurried after him.
"My leg," Ed shot back.
When Al started to get to his feet, looking reluctant, Roy reached out and touched his shoulder. "Could I borrow you, Alphonse?"
Al narrowed his eyes, his gaze far too intelligent. "Divide and conquer, sir?" he suggested, his voice tight.
"Something like that," Roy admitted, because there was really no use lying at this point. As he rose, he called, "Colonel–" Riza looked up "–please keep an ear on Edward and Miss Rockbell and intervene if it sounds to be getting more out of hand than usual."
Riza's mouth quirked. "Understood, sir."
"Thank you, Colonel. Alphonse," he said, motioning towards the kitchen.
Al sighed and nodded, then followed Roy as he led the way through the kitchen and out into the back garden. There wasn't much in the way of plant-life, beyond weeds; one of the dangers of being as busy as he was, and having a noted preference for fire, was that Roy had never bothered trying to keep any plants. There was a small, weather-beaten table and chairs set, a grill that he'd alchemised for the one time he'd been talked into letting his team come over for a cookout, and a shed with toys for Elicia in one corner, but nothing of any real interest.
"So, what's my brother chickening out about?" Al asked as they both settled into the chairs around the table.
Roy sighed, and since there really wasn't a good way to delicately handle this – and he doubted Al would appreciate any great care on his part – he deadpanned, "Ed and I are sleeping together."
Al blinked a few times, then sighed. "Really? That's it?"
Roy blinked back and relaxed back into his chair as much as the wrought iron would allow. "I admit, that was calmer than I was expecting."
Al sighed again and slumped against the table. "Ed's been trying to pretend he didn't have a crush on you since he was thirteen," he deadpanned, and Roy...really wasn't sure what to do with that; exactly how many people had noticed Ed was interested in him, while Roy had been blissfully ignorant, anyway? "He thought I didn't notice, and I thought he was over it, after the Promised Day, especially with–" Al blew out an irritated breath and shot a glare towards the upper floor of the house. "Since you told the colonel to go up there if things get out of hand, I assume you know how Ed and Winry parted?"
"For the most part," Roy admitted. "I'm aware the offer of marriage was on the table."
Al huffed. "Followed by radio silence. The only thing that kept me from trying to hunt him down was that you hadn't heard from him, either."
Roy couldn't quite suppress a snort. "And here I thought you kept checking to see if I'd heard from Edward because you expected me to hear about any international messes first."
Al rolled his eyes. "A bit, yeah, but I did sort of half expect he would come to you before me or Winry." He gave Roy a pointed look. "I was right."
Roy shrugged. "Debatable. We never told the Drachmans, while approaching the peace talks, who would be serving as our half of the delegation, only that it would be someone with the authority to treat on Amestris' behalf, and Ed had been out of contact for long enough to not know exactly how high up the chain of command the Führer dragged me when he finally pulled me out of Ishval. Likely, he expected to only deal with Lieutenant General Armstrong and escape without word getting back to the rest of us that he'd been here until long after he was back across the border."
"Good point," Al muttered.
Roy shook his head. "From Anya's comments, I suspect she wouldn't have let him back into Drachma without at least ringing one of us, but as this is Ed we're talking about..."
Al shot him a knowing smile. "He'd have ducked her. And as soon as I found out he'd been there, I'd be heading for Drachma to kick his arse, so he really would have only been prolonging the inevitable."
"Please feel free to remind him. Preferably without damaging my house."
Al laughed.
Roy sighed and shook his head again. "He wasn't going to say anything to me; Anya had to get involved."
Al let out his own sigh. "Are you surprised?"
"Not particularly."
Al tilted his head to one side, giving Roy a considering look that felt like it saw far too much. "You wouldn't have told him, either."
Roy had to look away from those gold eyes, so similar to the ones that haunted his dreams. "You assume I was any more inclined to admit an attraction."
Al was quiet for long enough that Roy finally had to look back up at him, found the young man watching him with that too-knowing stare. "Do you love my brother?" Al asked.
Perhaps it was the colour of their eyes, because Roy was no more able to lie to Al than he was to Ed, and he heard himself quietly admit, "Yes."
Al watched him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. Break his heart, and you'll have me to deal with."
Not an idle threat, Roy knew. "I have no intention in hurting him."
Al considered that, then snorted and looked back towards the upper floor of the house. "Which is why you're leaving him to Winry."
Roy snorted. "Oh, no. I've done my time, facing down scorned women, and he deserves what's coming to him; I'm not going up there unless Miss Rockbell starts seriously threatening bodily harm, or there's a danger of property damage. And since Colonel Hawkeye is perfectly capable of putting a stop to either issue, without being in danger of getting a spanner thrown at her..."
Al laughed.
"You don't want to go up there, either," Roy pointed out.
"Ed doesn't really deserve backup," Al insisted, and Roy smirked at him. "Yeah, okay. Have you picked Brother's brain for new arrays, yet?"
Roy shrugged. "There hasn't really been time."
Al's expression was knowing. "Of course not. I'm sure you've both been extremely busy."
Well, if Al was going to be like that... "He did teach me one I hadn't known," Roy offered. "An array for cleaning both worn clothing and skin."
Al stared at him for a beat, then covered his face with an embarrassed groan. "And that is as much about your and Brother's sex life as I ever want to be privy to."
Roy let out a snort. "That's as much as I intend to share," he admitted. "But, no, Anya and Ed have been attempting to teach me Drachman, between travelling and sight-seeing."
Al raised an eyebrow. "Attempting, sir? You sounded pretty fluent, earlier."
Roy shook his head. "That was Cretan."
Al blinked. "...I had no idea you spoke another language."
Roy smirked at him. "You've been around the military long enough to understand the advantages in having hidden skills."
Al snorted and gave a slow shake of his head. "Yeah. I really should know better." He shot Roy a considering look. "You don't secretly know Xingan, do you?"
Roy shrugged. "Not yet."
Al's responding smile was knowing. "I might let you and Ed talk me into sticking around for a bit, teach you both."
"Ed's not staying."
Al froze. "What?"
"He's going back to Drachma with Anya and Natalia," Roy explained, was impressed that he managed to keep any sign of his own feelings on the matter hidden. "He only came to Central to placate Miss Rockbell."
"What about you?" Al demanded, and it was actually kind of touching that that was what he was complaining about.
"What about me?" Roy returned.
Al's jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes on Roy. "Have you told him?" he demanded harshly. "That you love him?"
It was an act of will to keep from crossing his arms over his chest defensively, because no, not in so many words. Actions, sure, and dancing around the topic, but not– There hadn't yet been the right time to discuss the depth of affection, and it wasn't like Ed had said anything. "I don't see what that–"
"For fuck's sake, sir!" Al complained, sounding like a weirdly respectful version of his brother for a moment. "Tell him. Or he's going to leave thinking this was just some, I dunno, some fling."
Somehow, Roy kept his voice mild, rather than irritated, as he said, "Unlikely. I've told him to consider this his home."
"That's not–"
"Can you honestly tell me you think Edward would stay?" Roy demanded, couldn't quite keep his tone as irritation-free that time. "I'm not going to be the thing to tie him down."
Al stared at him for a couple beats, looking a bit like he was just seeing Roy for the first time. And then he let out a tired laugh, slumping against his chair and covering his eyes.
"Alphonse?" Roy asked, confused.
"He's turned into Dad," he said quietly. "He has no idea, and it's going to piss him off so much when he figures it out."
Van Hohenheim, who had left his wife and children for years. Who had been so out of touch, he hadn't known his wife had died and his sons had tried human transmutation, that his eldest had sold his soul to the military in the hopes of finding a way to save his brother.
"Edward," Roy said quietly, "is not your father, and I am not your mother; I may not be able to follow him, but if I don't hear from him for longer than a month, I will send someone after him and have them drag him home."
Al peeked out at him. "Well," he said without any irony, "if anyone can leash Brother, it would be you."
"I suppose those four years trying to keep tabs on you two while you attempted to avoid my reach had to leave me with some skills," Roy returned drily. "If nothing else, I expect the return of his right hand has improved his penmanship, so he no longer has that excuse."
Al quirked a sad smile. "If he tries making excuses about writing, just point out that Dad never wrote."
"I will keep that one in reserve."
Al looked towards the house. "A home, huh? How'd he take that?"
"Well, he hasn't tried to burn it down yet."
Al shot him a smile that was edged in old pain. "Thank you."
There were a dozen things Al could have been thanking him for – giving Ed a home, being willing to wait for him, not trying to change him, loving him to begin with – and rather than asking which one he meant, Roy just said, "He's worth it."
Al's smile eased into something happier. "Yes, he is," he agreed.
Which was really all that needed to be said.
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