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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, suggestion 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: Why is it so freaking hard to write Winry from Roy's PoV? *whines for a while*
The first indication of how Ed's conversation with Miss Rockbell went, was when she slammed out the back door, a spanner held in one white-knuckled grip and her expression twisted with a mix of pain and fury. Riza's voice had followed her out the door, cutting off as the door slammed shut behind her, but there was a noted lack of Ed shouting, which was never a good thing.
Al and Roy both got to their feet, Al moving just that littlest bit quicker and stepping towards her with both of his hands held up in a placating manner, saying, "Winry–"
She raised the spanner a bit and demanded, "Move, Alphonse."
Before Al could actually chance a spanner-induced bump on the head, Roy stepped forward and lightly touched his shoulder. "Is there a problem, Miss Rockbell?" he asked mildly as Al reluctantly shuffled out of the way.
The door into the house opened again before the last syllable had died, Riza appearing in the doorway with a strained expression. "Sir–"
Roy glanced at her. "We're fine, Colonel," he insisted. "Please go check on Edward." Because his silence really was worrying. (And Roy hoped Miss Rockbell had just taken his leg and left him stranded, rather than actually hurting him to keep him from chasing after her.)
Riza gave a tight nod, then returned into the house.
Roy turned his attention to Miss Rockbell just as she took two large steps forward and shoved the rounded end of the spanner against his chest. Then she just stood there and stared at him for a long minute.
And Roy...wasn't really sure how to respond to this; growing up like he had, he'd learnt how best to react to most women who'd been hurt by someone he didn't know, and he'd broken his share of hearts over the years and knew what to expect when he was the one they were angry at. But this, where he knew and at least respected everyone involved, had been dragged into the middle of the mess before it had come to a head...
He could have handled yelling, could probably have figured out violence – had honestly expected one of those reactions, knowing Miss Rockbell's temperament as he did – but he wasn't certain how to respond to a stare, beyond staring back with his best inscrutable mask on.
And then she stepped back, giving a twirl of her spanner that looked casual, but was somehow as terrifying as Riza reloading one of her guns. "It shouldn't take me more than a day to fix Ed's leg, if there's somewhere I can work?" she said, her tone almost casual.
Roy blinked, cleared his throat, and offered, "The lighting is better at the kitchen table, but you'll have more room to spread out in the dining room?"
She hummed and returned to the house.
Roy turned to Al, found him looking as confused as he felt. "What just happened?"
"I have...no idea," Al admitted, before letting out a snort and shooting him a helpless look. "She's been going back and forth between furious and resigned since before I got back from Xing. Paninya said she had some plans for if Ed brought back some foreign girl, but that was over a year ago and you..."
"I am neither foreign, nor a woman," Roy filled in drily.
Al let out a slightly helpless laugh. "Essentially."
Roy sighed and pressed a finger to the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. "If Miss Rockbell and Edward will be staying here, we may as well collect everyone else and head for the gallery, get out of her way." He cast a glance at Al. "Were you still intending to come with?"
"I don't want to be in the potential warpath any more than you do," Al insisted.
Roy offered him a knowing smile. "Let me collect some books for your brother and ring the office."
Al shrugged and followed him inside, saying, "If we're not going in the wrong direction, we can drop by while we're out?"
Winry had set up shop in the kitchen and was scowling at Ed's leg, tools strewn out over the table top and a chair she'd brought over. She didn't look up at them, and they moved quickly through the kitchen; Roy had no intention in pushing her temper, and Al clearly felt the same.
Roy considered Al's question, waited until they'd passed out of the kitchen before replying, "It's not really on the way, but we can certainly drop past while we're out."
"Roy?" Anastasia called, and they found the Drachmans and Francine all gathered in the study, the princesses both wearing concerned frowns.
Roy offered them a smile that he'd intended to be reassuring, but couldn't speak to its effectiveness. "I'm going to take some books up to Ed, then we can head out."
"Good," Riza said as she stepped into the room behind Al. "Edward was hoping you would be coming with us, Alphonse," she added as Roy set about collecting a pile of books that should, he hoped, keep Ed amused for a fair few hours. Assuming he hadn't read them before; he'd kept up with what Ed had borrowed from the library during his youth, but he had no way of knowing what he'd found while he was away.
"Absolutely," Al agreed. "I'd like to see this art gallery." He let out a snort. "Is he worried I'll distract Winry and he'll never get his leg back?"
"More likely, he's worried about Anya," Roy pointed out.
Anastasia let out a huff and muttered a few words in Drachman, which made Natalia giggle and Orlov smirk. "He worries too much," she complained in Amestrisan.
Al gave a slightly nervous laugh. "Yeah, he kind of does. Sorry?"
"Hah. You will ease him. It is fine."
"Did we need to call the office?" Riza asked as Roy left the room with his armful of books.
"The general said we could swing past the hotel on our way," Al replied. "If we're driving, I can take Winry and my bags and we can drop them off."
Riza's response was too quiet for Roy to make out as he stepped into his room, but unless Riza had picked up a car from the carpool at some point yesterday, they were going to be walking; he could drive Al and Miss Rockbell over to their hotel once Miss Rockbell was done, if need be.
Ed was sitting up on the bed, looking irritated, legs laying out in front of him. Or, well, one leg and part of the other, and Roy paused for a moment, because he hadn't seen Ed without his leg since he first found him at the Rockbells'. Without his arm, sure, that hadn't been nearly as uncommon as Miss Rockbell probably would have preferred, but he usually managed to keep his leg in one piece and working order, which Roy had always suspected was more to do with being able to get around on his own, than due to Miss Rockbell's threats. (Even with only one arm, Ed had been able to fight and use alchemy, even if he had to stop to draw arrays, but with only one leg, he was effectively crippled.)
"Are you going to come in, or are you going to stare like some fucking idiot?" Ed snarled.
Roy sighed; he should have expected that being effectively crippled would make Ed especially difficult. He stepped up to the bed and dropped the pile of books down next to Ed, then leant in and kissed him.
Ed held stiff for a beat, then let out a broken noise and caught Roy's shoulders, his return kiss a little desperate.
Roy let Ed decide when to pull away, then settled onto the bed next to him and cupped his cheek. "Miss Rockbell says she should only need your leg for the day," he offered.
"I know," Ed muttered, his expression disgruntled, even as he leant into Roy's hand.
"And your brother is coming with us," Roy added. "I'm fairly certain, between him and Riza and myself, we should be able to handle any trouble."
Ed let out a huff, his mouth twitching like he'd suppressed a smile; knowing him, he felt like he needed to look cross for some ridiculous reason. "Yeah, well, if you screw up, it's your treaty that's on the line," he muttered.
"Why is it only my treaty when you get the day off?" Roy complained, smiling.
"It's always only your treaty," Ed insisted. "I don't remember seeing my name on the damn thing anywhere."
"An oversight on someone's part."
"Fuck off."
Roy leant in and brushed his lips against Ed's, then asked, "Is that enough books, or should I bring up the rest of the bookcase?"
Ed snorted, finally dropping his irritated air and giving Roy an amused look. "I wouldn't want you to throw your back out."
"Funny."
Ed flashed him a wide grin, then glanced at the pile of books. "I should be okay," he decided after a moment, as he brought up a hand and cover's Roy's on his cheek. "You can bring me more if you want, though."
Roy brushed his thumb along Ed's cheekbone, smiled as his lashes fluttered. "You'll have to let go of my hand," he pointed out.
Ed huffed and turned his head, pressing a kiss against Roy's wrist when it came into range of his mouth. "Guess I'm not getting more books," he decided.
Roy chuckled and leant in to kiss him again, smiling against his mouth when Ed's free hand caught at his waist and tugged at him until Roy came closer. "I do have to leave eventually," he pointed out against Ed's mouth.
Ed huffed. "Al's got it."
"Whose treaty is on the line?"
"Anya's."
Roy chuckled and kissed him again, then gently pulled away, getting to his feet.
Ed let out a pathetic noise and motioned towards him with grasping hands, his pitiful expression fairly obviously contrived. "Nooo," he complained. "You have to stay and protect me from the she-demon!"
Roy couldn't help a smile at that. "Are you saying you can't manage Miss Rockbell on your own?"
Ed glanced away for a moment, then looked back and gave a determined nod. "Can't. Impossible. Winry must be double-teamed or there's no hope."
Roy caught his smile widening, and it was probably only because he'd just been talking about it with Al, but he heard himself say, with a well of fondness and complete honesty, "I have no idea why I love you, you ridiculous man."
Ed's eyes went wide and he stared at Roy for a beat, looking rather like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Did you just–?" he asked, his voice shaking.
Roy cleared his throat, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with Ed's response; this was far from a familiar state of affairs, for him, but he'd expected something other than shock.
Well, this was Edward, and no matter what his brother might have said about what he needed to hear, commitment was wrapped up in staying, and Ed didn't stay. Roy was okay with that – he was, so long as Ed could promise to come home sometimes – but he'd already said the words, and trying to pretend otherwise, even if it meant Ed ran as soon as he got his leg back – maybe doing this while he couldn't run away, would have to sit and think it over, was a cheat, but it's not like Roy'd planned it – would only end in destruction.
"I said," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady, to keep meeting those shocked gold eyes, "that I love you, Edward Elric."
Ed was moving before Roy realised he was going to do something stupid, swinging his right leg off the bed and shoving himself up and out of the bed with his arms.
"Ed!" Roy shouted, stepping forward and grabbing for him, catching him under the arms before he could completely overbalance. "You idiot!"
Ed leant against Roy, wrapped his arms around his neck, and quietly said, "Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu."
That Drachman phrase again. Or...almost. Roy felt himself frowning as he sorted through his scattering of Drachman for 'tozhe', finally matched it with 'also'.
And then his eyes widened, because there were only so many things that Ed could be preceding with 'I also you', and only one that made sense in context: "Love," he whispered.
Ed's cheeks pinked slightly and he offered a small smile. "Lyublyu," he agreed just as quietly.
And there Roy had been, thinking Ed might run away, but he'd already committed. Just not in a language Roy was fluent in, which was so freaking Edward, he couldn't even pretend to be surprised.
"Idiot," he muttered, tightening his grip around Ed's middle. "What did you think I meant when I told you I'd wait for you?"
Ed let out an irritated huff, his blush darkening. "Don't 'idiot' me, you stupid bastard! You used to wait for me when I was a kid, too! You could have meant–"
Roy silenced him with a kiss, and Ed melted into it, his fingers threading through Roy's hair.
Ed pulled back after a moment, his eyes practically glowing, and quietly said, "I love you too, Roy."
Leave it to Ed to turn Roy's name into a weakness. And, by the way his mouth tilted up at the corners, he knew it.
Roy snorted and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Ed's mouth, then shifted his hold, caught the blond under his thighs, and picked him up, which turned out to be much easier than he'd been anticipating. (Though, to be fair, Ed was missing his heaviest limb.)
"Put me down!" Ed demanded, tightening his grip around Roy's neck; he clearly hadn't expected that.
"How else am I supposed to get you back into bed?" Roy asked in his best reasonable voice.
Ed looked away and muttered, "I can hop."
Roy barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Or you could trust me."
Ed glanced at him, his brow furrowed. "I trust you. I wouldn't have let Anya come to Central if I didn't trust you."
Roy set him back onto the bed with a sigh. "That's not what I'm talking about," he returned quietly, before brushing another kiss against the corner of Ed's mouth and slipping from his grip. "But, speaking of Anya, we have a gallery to see."
Ed caught his hand before he could get out of range, a troubled frown shadowing his face. "I do trust you," he said quietly. "But I don't–"
"You have trouble admitting when you need help," Roy suggested.
Ed grimaced and nodded.
Roy took a step back towards the bed and leant forward to catch Ed's other hand, which was laying in his lap, then he firmly pressed the former alchemist's hands together in that way that was familiar to both of them. Ed's eyes met his, filling with understanding. "I'm here," Roy offered quietly, "when you need me."
Ed gave him a small smile, which very quickly twisted into something far less innocent. "I think I need you in this bed–"
Roy laughed and brought Ed's hands up so he could kiss the tips of his fingers. "Not as much as you need me watching Anya."
"You suck."
Roy raised an eyebrow at him. "Maybe tonight."
It took a minute, but then Ed's eyes gleamed and he twisted his hands in Roy's grip, caught his wrists and tugged him forward and down. "Pervert," he breathed before pressing a hard kiss against Roy's mouth, then letting him go with a light shove. "Go guard your treaty, you lazy bastard."
"That's General Lazy Bastard," Roy insisted, just to make Ed grin, his eyes bright gold and happy. He shot him his best smug smirk, then spun and sauntered from the room.
Back downstairs, the others were waiting for him. Both princesses were hiding smiles, while Al was shaking his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. Riza and Francine, too, showed signs of amusement, while Orlov was looking more irritated than anything else. "Let's head out," he said, deciding he really didn't want to know what they'd overheard to make them all look so pleased.
There was a military carpool car sitting parked behind Roy's on the street, and she must have seen something of his surprise on his face, for Riza leant over and murmured, "I had Jean drop it off at my house after the labs, last night."
Well, that explained why Havoc had brushed off offers of dinner without any pre-date planning. "Remind me to stop misjudging your ability to think ahead."
Riza shot him a knowing look. "I'll hold that in reserve, sir," she promised, and Roy expected she'd bring it up at some point in future to win an argument.
Business as usual, then.
The gallery was interesting – mostly local artists, but the Colourway Alchemist, who had started the gallery, had contributed a few pieces purportedly painted with alchemy – but small, so it didn't take them long to get through it. They caught lunch, then stopped in at the Drachman embassy, where they found that Kuznetsov had apparently realised he'd have to start speaking Amestrisan, because he greeted them in that and spent most of their visit using it. (Roy was, admittedly, a little surprised at how unnoticeable his accent was, though Ed had said he'd had an excellent teacher.)
Kuznetsov had already met with most of the civilian council, as well as a number of the brass. He was hardly the most crafty politician Roy had ever met, but he could give many of them a run for their money, by his own word, and Roy had butted heads with members of the council and the brass enough times to believe him; if they'd found him easy prey, they wouldn't currently be having polite refreshments in the parlour.
Kuznetsov'd had a chance to look over some of the currently playing evening shows, and while he admitted that Orlov and Lagunov would both likely be bored by all of them – given neither of them understood more than a handful of Amestrisan – he'd found a couple that he suspected the princesses would especially enjoy. Which, well, they did look interested in a couple, so they settled on one and then, since Roy doubted Ed would approve of taking Anastasia and Natalia to a show without him (especially since Orlov was making sounds like he'd rather stay in the embassy during it), went out and got tickets for the next evening, when Ed would be able to attend with them.
"We will have to go shopping," Anastasia admitted. "Innokenti brought things he might wear to a formal occasion, but Natalia and I did not."
"And you know Brother doesn't have anything," Al pointed out helpfully.
Anastasia grinned and shook her head. "I have never seen him in better than his button-up and an old waistcoat."
"He has a waistcoat?" Roy couldn't help but ask, and Al and both princesses laughed. He snorted. "I doubt you or Miss Rockbell brought anything, either," he said to Al.
Al shook his head. "I didn't, no. Winry might have something, but she'd also be happy to go shopping for something nice."
Roy looked at Francine, who sighed and admitted, "I'd also need something, unless they're fine with my uniform."
"Probably," Riza offered with a shrug, "but you'll stand out if the rest of us are in civilian wear; we're not too far off in size, if you'd prefer to try some of my things?"
Francine blinked and nodded. "I'd appreciate a chance to look," she decided.
Roy sighed. "It sounds like we'll be making a shopping excursion tomorrow, then. After the museum, I expect?"
"It will be a good stress relief, yes?" Anastasia suggested, wearing a smile that said she knew it wouldn't be a relief to part of the group.
Al snorted and shot Roy a conspiring grin. "You can buy Brother a proper wardrobe; he can't complain about how he'll need to be able to fit everything he owns in a suitcase, any more."
"I do hope you're intending to assist me with that particular endeavour, Alphonse," Roy returned flatly.
Al let out a nervous laugh. "Oh. Yeah. We can ask Winry?"
Roy turned a bland stare on him. "I do hope you're intending–"
Al huffed and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, sir, I understand why Brother's always calling you names."
"Only sometimes?" Francine muttered in a voice intended to carry.
Roy sighed; he was resigned to being ganged up on.
Miss Rockbell wasn't done yet by the time they got back, but Al seemed quite pleased by that, making his way upstairs to – Roy would guess – have that conversation with Ed that he'd mentioned over the phone.
As for Roy, he got dragged into a discussion about which shops would be best for their purposes, and whether they should actually bother buying formal dress for the visitors, or just rent them. Given Al – and Miss Rockbell, acting as his plus one – got dragged to an event hosted by the Xingan ambassador about once every three months and had complained about having to rent a suit on more than one occasion where Roy had heard, Roy figured it might be about time to get both of them proper formal dress, which they could leave with Roy or Riza when they returned to Rush Valley. Ed, likewise, would probably find himself in need of formal dress, between his connections to both Drachma and Xing, and whatever they ended up making public about his and Roy's relationship, if they ever did.
For the princesses and Francine, however, renting gowns for the evening seemed far more sensible and, as Anastasia was quick to point out, for herself and Natalia, "Next time we are to visit your Central City, we will be intending to do so, and so will bring things that we might wear to more formal occasions." Which was far more sensible, in the long run, and less likely to bring Treasury to attempt murdering Roy for draining the vaults in the name of a treaty that had already been signed.
When Miss Rockbell was done, she stopped in the doorway of the study, holding Ed's leg in her arms. "General, come with me," she ordered, before turning and stalking away.
Roy traded an uncertain look with Riza, but got up and followed Miss Rockbell upstairs without a word.
They found Ed and Al in the middle of a debate of some variation, which seemed to be made up of more sweeping gestures, half-formed words and phrases, and nonsense equations than anything sensible, but as soon as Miss Rockbell stepped into the room, both Elrics turned to look at her with trepidation.
"Al," she ordered in a tone that invited no arguments, "out. Ed, lay down."
Al wasted no time in brushing past Roy, but Ed stubbornly remained sitting up, arms crossed over his chest and expression mulish. "Why's the bastard here?" he demanded, and Roy might have been hurt if he hadn't been wondering the same thing.
Roy couldn't see her face, but something in Miss Rockbell's expression had Ed scooting down the bed and obediently laying down. Miss Rockbell moved towards the bed and dropped Ed's leg down in the empty space it should occupy a bit carelessly. "Come here, Mustang," she called over her shoulder.
Roy stepped over, offering Ed a helpless frown when he caught his irritated glare.
"Winry–" Ed started.
"Shut up," Miss Rockbell ordered and Ed let out a huff and closed his eyes, arms crossed over his chest.
Roy stopped at the end of the bed, frowning between Ed's defensive posture and Miss Rockbell's hard stare. "Explain," he ordered, using his commander voice.
Miss Rockbell scoffed. "Explain," she repeated, shooting him a smile that was clearly meant to make him back down.
Roy narrowed his eyes. "Need I remind you, Miss Rockbell, that you are a guest in my home," he returned icily. "I understand that he hurt you, but I will not play second fiddle to your revenge. Either explain your intentions, or I'll have Colonel Hawkeye escort you to your hotel."
Miss Rockbell stared at him for a long moment before, inexplicably, smiling; not the smile that was meant as a threat, but something almost approving. And then, in a voice far closer to the cheerful tone Roy was used to hearing from her, she said, "Somehow, I forgot that you're not nearly so easy-going and soft as you like to pretend."
Roy just kept glaring, uncertain how to take this personality shift.
She rolled her eyes and picked up Ed's leg. "Reattachment hurts," she said flatly.
"Winry," Ed snarled, and Roy glanced over to spot a glare that he recognised as one he always wore to hide something he perceived to be a weakness.
"I am aware of the specifics of automail prostheses, Miss Rockbell," Roy returned just as flatly. "They devote a day to it at the military academy." And he'd refreshed his knowledge when Ed had joined up, and again when Havoc had been injured. He was far from an expert, and he lacked the personal experience, but he knew it was a ridiculously painful surgery, and that reconnecting the nerves after the automail had been removed was likewise no stroll through the park. He also knew – the reason he'd gone researching after Ed had joined his team, actually – what sort of damage, in a general way, would cause the wearer pain, because he'd needed to know when he could let Ed back out in the field and when he needed to order him back to Resembool. Because Ed very clearly had a high pain tolerance, and he'd seen his bull-headed determination during their first meeting.
Miss Rockbell considered that, then gave a sharp nod. "Fine." She pointed at Ed, whose jaw was clenched. "He usually falls asleep, but you're going stay with him and keep him off his leg for at least four hours." Then she turned to return Ed's glare. "Because you are a stupid, careless idiot who never listens when he's told to stay in bed."
"Once," Ed bit out.
Miss Rockbell huffed and set his leg back on the bed more gently, carefully aligning it. "Shut up. You're Mustang's problem, now. And you!" She turned to Roy, pointing with one hand towards the head of the bed. "Go sit. I don't need you hovering over me."
Roy looked up at Ed and offered him a questioning look, because he didn't actually need to be in the room for the reattachment, guessed that was at least half the reason Ed was so tense, knowing him.
Ed was still for a moment, his expression tight, before he unfolded his arms and held out one hand towards Roy.
Roy stepped quickly around the bed and caught Ed's hand as he sat next to him, pretended he didn't notice how much it was shaking as he pressed a light kiss against Ed's knuckles.
Ed closed his eyes and put on a smile that was really more of a grimace, his fingers curling around Roy's hold.
"Good," Miss Rockbell decided, before, "Three, two–"
Ed's face went tense with pain, jaw clenching and eyes squeezing shut. His hand clenched around Roy's, tight enough to hurt, and Roy tightened his own grip back in response, as if he could act as a counterpoint to the pain he couldn't even begin to guess at.
And then Ed opened his eyes and loosened his grip, snarled out an irritated, "Are you incapable of being gentle?" towards Miss Rockbell.
"Nope!" Miss Rockbell returned, sounding far too cheerful, as she pulled out a couple tools out of some pocket or another and started tightening a few things.
Ed's face was still lined with pain, but it didn't show in his voice when he muttered, "I'm getting a new mechanic."
"I know a few people who would be happy–" Miss Rockbell started because, clearly, this post-reattachment banter was normal. (Which didn't surprise Roy, really.)
"I'm not signing on with anyone in Rush Valley," Ed snarled. "You're all fucking psychopaths."
From Miss Rockbell's grin, which Ed likely couldn't see, she considered that a compliment.
Ed looked over at Roy. "Help me find a new mechanic."
Roy blinked, then put on a considering look and offered, "I'm sure there are any number of mechanics in Central who would love the chance to brag they were the personal mechanic of the Fullmetal Alchemist."
"On second thought," Ed muttered while Miss Rockbell laughed.
Then she leant up and tapped Ed's cheek with the butt of a screwdriver, bringing him to lean up slightly on his free elbow and glare at her. She flashed him a sharp smile. "You're good. If you wait more than two years again before you come for a tune-up, I'm upgrading you."
"Spare me," Ed snarled. "And get the fuck out of our room."
'Our room'. That probably shouldn't have settled quite so warmly in Roy's chest, and he cleared his throat and drily said, "Please inform Colonel Hawkeye that we'll be ordering in, unless someone is interested in making a meal."
"Yeah, all right," Miss Rockbell agreed as she jumped to her feet. "Four hours."
"Out," Ed ordered, pointing towards the door.
She flashed him a sharp smile, then left, pulling the door mostly shut behind her.
"Hate her," Ed muttered, turning towards Roy, his free hand grasping for his waist.
Roy shifted so he could lean back against the headboard, then helped manoeuvre Ed so he could recline against his chest, right leg pulled up, not quite to his chest, while his left leg was stretched out in front of them, pressed tight against Roy's own outstretched left leg. "Is this going to be like on the train?" he couldn't help but ask as he wrapped his arms around the blond.
"Shut up," Ed muttered, before flinching, his hands clenching in Roy's shirt.
"Ed?" he asked, concerned.
"Nerves," Ed gritted out. He let out a controlled breath and relaxed against Roy again. "Talk about something stupid that I don't have to participate in," he said, and there was something uncertain in his voice, almost like he couldn't believe he was actually requesting that.
"Shall I tell you Elicia's favourite bedtime story?" Roy offered, because that was the first thing to come to mind.
Ed pulled away enough to give him a flat look. "You'd better not be hiding any storybooks in reach of this bed, bastard, or I–" He snapped his mouth shut, a grimace flashing over his face, before dropping back against Roy's chest with a disgruntled noise.
"I made it up," Roy admitted, and he was probably going to get punched for it, but at least it should distract Ed. "Let's see, how did it start again? Oh, right. There once were two golden princes, who loved each other very much. They lost their parents very young, you see, and their evil uncle had banished them from the palace, so all they had were each other and the kindly old woman who had raised them and her granddaughter.
"One day, a handsome soldier in their uncle's army came–"
"You're fucking shitting me," Ed interrupted with a choked laugh.
"Hush. Who's telling the story here?"
Ed groaned and pressed his face against Roy's chest and muttered something that may or may not have been in Amestrisan, but was almost certainly uncomplimentary.
"One day," Roy repeated, "an extremely handsome–" Ed scoffed "–soldier in their uncle's army came and begged the princes to help him depose the evil king, for while he didn't know who the princes were, they were both extremely talented alchemists. And the princes, for they were both good souls who couldn't stand to watch their people suffer, were quick to agree."
"Lies," Ed muttered.
Roy covered his mouth with one hand, felt Ed's mouth turn with a smile against his palm as he continued, "The princes disguised themselves with the help of the older woman and her granddaughter, then followed the extremely handsome–" Ed's shoulders shook with what Roy was fairly certain was laughter "–soldier back to the capital city. Alas, the handsome soldier was too lowly placed to have an opportunity at the evil king, but he knew when the people were hurting, and the kind princes–" Ed snorted "–were always happy to go and help those people the–"
Ed yanked Roy's hand away from his mouth and warned, "If you start calling yourself 'handsome' again–"
Roy cleared his throat and offered, "Supremely dashing?"
"I'm going to punch you," Ed warned with a laugh.
"Heartthrob?"
"Mustang."
"Smoking ho–"
"Roy," Ed complained, smacking his chest. "You're going to be on actual fire in a minute here."
Roy chuckled and kissed the top of Ed's head. "Elicia likes it when I comment on how handsome the soldier is."
"That's because Elicia likes you, for some inexplicable reason."
"You like me too," Roy pointed out.
Ed scoffed. "I desp–ise you," he returned, voice hitching as he flinched in response to the pain again.
Roy slipped one hand under Ed's vest and rubbed at the skin he found. "I'm fluent in Edward Elric-ese, you realise."
Ed snorted as he relaxed against Roy again. "Idiot. Fine, tell your stupid, overly complimentary story."
"Have I mentioned," Roy murmured, "how devastatingly gorgeous the eldest prince is?"
Ed let out a groan and turned his face against Roy's chest, muffling his muttering.
Roy smiled and kissed the top of his head again. "Where was I? Oh, yes: The kind princes were both always happy to help any people the soldier sent them to, though they always did so in their own, often inconvenient, manner. Which, while it annoyed the soldier, was far more troublesome for the evil king.
"In this way, as time passed, the soldier gathered supporters with the help of the princes, climbed closer and closer to a position where he could remove the evil king at last.
"But, unbeknownst to the soldier and the princes, the evil king was aware of their efforts and left them alone only because he believed there was no way they could stop his evil plan from coming to fruition. And on that day, the Promised Day, when the moon swallowed the sun, the evil king enacted his terrible plan to steal the life of all his people."
"But it failed," Ed said. "The princes and the soldier and their allies stopped the evil king."
"Yes," Roy agreed quietly, "we did. The youngest prince sacrificed himself to save his brother–" Ed's breath hitched "–for he loved him that much. And, after the elder prince sent his evil uncle to a place where he could never hurt anyone again, he gave his alchemy to bring his brother back from death, for he loved his little brother that much."
"And why," Ed asked, his voice rough, "did the princes not take the throne?"
"Because they realised they didn't need a throne to help their people. So they entrusted it to the soldier, and the younger prince went east, while the elder prince went west, and they made peace with their neighbours. For they were good, those princes, still as shining gold as the day they were born, and they believed everyone deserved to live in peace."
Ed pressed a kiss against the bottom of Roy's jaw. "And the elder prince and the soldier realised they were both idiots who loved each other and lived happily ever after," he said, with a flippant tone. But, when Roy looked down at him, he found his eyes shining with what might have been tears.
"I think," he whispered, cupping Ed's cheek, "I'm going to have to make that the new ending." Then he leant in and brushed a gentle kiss against Ed's mouth.
"Fuck you," Ed whispered against his mouth.
Roy smirked. "Not for at least four hours."
Ed huffed, gold eyes gleaming. "All she said was you had to keep me in bed for four hours."
Roy bit back a laugh. "Four hours of sex? I'm not sure my stamina's quite that impressive."
Ed coughed and glanced away. "Well, we'll have to take a break for food in the middle," he pointed out. And then he flinched again, his mouth twisting down in discomfort, before he caught Roy's gaze and whispered, "I wouldn't mind the distraction."
Roy considered that; managing pain with sex probably wasn't a particularly good plan, but he could think of a few positions that wouldn't chance Ed putting any strain on his leg or make him move it much at all, and he was drawing a blank on any other possible distraction. He sighed. "Let me go close the door the rest of the way," he decided.
Ed pressed a hard kiss to his mouth, his eyes bright with gratitude, before letting go and leaning forward so Roy could slide out from behind him.
And, okay, so maybe this wasn't going to be such a bad idea after all.
Since Riza offered to take Al and Miss Rockbell back to their hotel, and Ed's four hours of being stuck in bed where to end fairly close to when Roy had intended to turn in, anyway, they ended up turning in after Roy took their dinner dishes down and he'd activated the alchemic traps.
The next morning, Roy made a mild breakfast for his household; previous experience had taught him that visits to the museum didn't always settle well with full stomachs, especially as some previous Führer had insisted they not censor any of their nation's trials or victories, which the museum administration had agreed with and stood by, despite the ever-swaying pendulum of public opinion. Ed, unsurprisingly, had complained about the 'rationing', and Roy had promised a large lunch, assuming he didn't mind shopping on a full belly?
Ed had proceeded to curse all of them out in various languages – Roy understood the Amestrisan and Cretan, recognised some of the Drachman, and Anastasia and Natalia's uncertain expressions suggested there was at least one other language thrown in – for a good few minutes. And, when they met up with Al and Miss Rockbell outside the museum, he cursed them both out as well.
To which Al responded by teaching him some Xingan curses. Because, yes, they were related, and each other's enablers.
The museum was a sobering place, and relatively quiet, as school groups tended to make up the majority of their patrons, in Roy's experience, but the Central schools usually visited in the spring, and it was early October.
The quiet lasted about two displays. And then Ed, scowling at the display of the original military uniform for an officer – as much as Roy disliked the current office uniform, he was really glad they'd done away with the half-capes and gaudy hats – started reading the descriptive plaque in Drachman. Which...okay. Roy could admit to being impressed, because the plaque was only in Amestrisan, and he was reading it at a speed that didn't suggest he was translating as he went.
Then, not to be outdone, Al did the same in Xingan, reading over Ed's shoulder. (Which had earned him a scowl.)
And then both Elrics turned to Roy, Ed wearing a massive grin. "No," he returned.
"Oh, come on, bastard," Ed tried. "Prove you're as smart as you think you are."
Roy put on an unimpressed stare. "First, I have no need to 'prove' my intelligence to anyone. Second, I can't translate as quickly as you can."
Ed rolled his eyes. "I'll help you. Come on. It's good practise."
Roy turned and moved on to the next display, deciding that ignoring Ed's wide grin was his best choice.
Ed and Al repeated their translating at the next three plaques, trading off shooting Roy expectant looks while the other was translating. Anastasia joined them at the fourth plaque, reading it in Drachman, while Ed changed to what Roy suspected was Aerugonian.
He lasted another two plaques before, under the power of Ed, Al, Anastasia, and Natalia's expectant looks, he finally gave in and stumbled through an embarrassingly slow Cretan translation. But Ed only corrected him twice and offered him a word he couldn't think of four times, which was a(n admittedly) nice boost to his ego.
(It wasn't that easy, having an acclaimed genius as a lover, okay?)
By the time they got out of the museum a little after lunchtime – finally giving in to the unimpressed stares of the three employees who had taken to following them around, clearly lacking the nerves to tell off a party counting a member of the brass among their number (Roy assumed it was his authority that held them back) – Roy felt far more secure in his Cretan, so maybe Ed had a point about it being good practise. And he'd picked up a handful of new Drachman, while also getting a feeling for spoken Xingan and – Ed had admitted, when pressed – Aerugonian. (Which wouldn't mean much when he finally started trying to learn them, given, but at least he knew what they sounded like; if someone without an obvious nationality started talking to him in an unfamiliar language, he had a better chance of knowing what sort of translator he needed.)
They caught a slightly late lunch, then made for the shops Roy and Riza had settled on. All the best shops were separated by gender, which visibly made Ed nervous, but Roy had insisted on shops within shouting range, because he was getting used to anticipating to Ed's paranoia, which seemed to help.
Al didn't take long to settle on a suit, so he went to join Orlov outside the shop where the women were – Roy expected – fawning over gowns. Which left Roy with Ed.
Ed, who seemed to think a black suit was too boring, but a coloured shirt or bowtie wasn't enough of a statement. The gentleman assisting him made a valiant attempt to find a suit that was bright enough for Ed's tastes, but was looking rather frazzled by the time Roy realised what was going on.
"Edward," he called in his best commander voice, "pick something, or I'll pick for you."
"I'm not afraid of your tastes, Mustang," Ed returned.
Roy smiled and raised an eyebrow at him.
Ed stared at him for a moment, apparently realised Roy would pick the least comfortable suit he could find, then turned back to the hassled shopkeep and said, tone resigned, "That second suit, the one without the buttons in the cuffs, and a white shirt and black bowtie is fine."
The shopkeep left to find the requested articles, his movements irritated, and Roy barely resisted the urge to rub tiredly at his eyes; he'd known Ed was going to be difficult, and he was sort of disgusted with himself for taking so long to put a stop to it.
Well, there was one fairly easy way to smooth things over with the shopkeep, even if it would irritate Ed, and Roy waited until the man was within hearing range again, the requested clothing in his arms, before tiredly saying, "Must everything be a trial with you, Fullmetal?"
Ed shot him a glare. "Go fuck yourself, bastard," he snapped in response. "It's not like I asked you arseholes to drag me out shopping."
The shopkeep was visibly more cheerful at the mention of Ed's former title. He didn't presume to use it himself, which was really for the best, but his renewed smile said he wasn't likely to forget anytime soon that he'd served him.
Ed waited until after they'd paid and stepped outside before muttering, "You do realise he's gonna go straight out and tell all his mates I was here, right?"
Roy shrugged. "More likely, he'll wait until he closes up shop." He raised an eyebrow at Ed. "How many blond brothers do you think I take shopping?"
"Just Al and me, I should hope," Ed quipped.
Roy nodded. "As soon as our shopkeep friend mentions you called your brother 'Al' and he called you 'Brother', someone's going to connect the dots."
Ed huffed and shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing towards where Al had struck up a conversation with Francine, who had clearly decided she was done standing around in the shop. "I guess." Then he glanced over at Roy. "Are you going to take Al up on his suggestion? Drag me out for more than I can fit in my suitcase?"
Roy blinked. "...are you two telepathic?" he couldn't quite keep himself from asking, since Ed hadn't seemed to know about the shopping trip until Roy had mentioned it, and Roy hadn't heard anyone mention the extra clothing suggestion.
Ed burst out laughing, reaching out a hand that Roy caught to help keep himself upright. "Having had occasion to test that, I can say with relative certainty that we don't," he offered once he'd caught his breath.
Roy snorted. "I should be more surprised that you actually tested that, but knowing you..."
"Shut the fuck up."
Roy squeezed the hand he was still holding and asked, "If I took you around to some other shops, would you be equally as difficult?"
Ed looked down at their joined hands, a considering frown on his face. "Well," he said slowly, "I can go with you, and I'll probably find all my old clothing burnt–"
Roy made an interested noise; that wasn't a terrible idea.
Ed shot him a scowl that was belied by the gleam of humour in his eyes, "Or I can wait until I get back to Drachma and Anya drags me out, then have to cart it all back over the border with me."
"Difficult choice, I see," Roy returned.
Ed let out a loud, clearly contrived sigh. "Fine," he decided, tone irritated. "I'll behave myself for an hour."
"It's a miracle," Roy quipped, because he couldn't help himself.
Ed caught Roy's pocket watch chain and pulled it from his pocket, clicking it open as soon as he had the watch in his hand. "I'm timing you," he warned, turning the watch around so Roy could see the time.
Somehow, Roy managed to suppress a smile. "Well then," he said drily, as he took his watch back, "I guess we had best get moving."
"What about the others?" Ed asked once Roy had put his watch away and directed them to a nearby shop that would serve their purposes, without – hopefully – tweaking Ed's natural desire to torment overly helpful shop assistants.
"There's an ice cream parlour around the corner."
Ed shot him a disgusted look. "Did you seriously just make me pick between shopping and ice cream?"
"You can get some to go when we're done," Roy promised.
Ed huffed and looked very much like he wanted to cross his arms over his chest, except neither of them had let go of the other's hand yet. "You have to make me apple pie," he announced.
"You have an obsession with that pie."
"I like apple pie," Ed insisted, before shooting Roy a look that immediately put him on guard. "Please, Roy?"
Well, that was far less destructive than he'd been fearing. "I'll try to find time to make it tomorrow."
Ed grinned, then sing-songed, "Still timing you!"
Roy snorted and used his grip on Ed's hand to tug him into the shop, muttering, "Of course you are."
Ed managed to keep from alienating any other shopkeepers, though Roy suspected that had more to do with the rest of the group joining them in the second shop and Anastasia and Miss Rockbell stepping forward to 'help' and really just serving as a focus for his irritation, than anything else. As promised, Roy bought Ed ice cream after, much to Al's obvious amusement.
They separated to go back to their various lodgings and change, with the promise to meet up at the Drachman embassy in a couple hours to pick up Kuznetsov and drop off Orlov.
The first thing Roy insisted they do upon getting up to his and Ed's room, was unpack and put away all of his new clothing, which Ed agreed to with only minimal grumbling. Of course, he'd suggested, as he put the last shirt away, that they should probably take a shower before getting into their formal dress. And, to conserve water and time, they should clearly shower together.
(In retrospect, Roy was fairly certain they hadn't managed to conserve anything; at least their housemates knew to expect they wouldn't be able to change in anything approaching a timely manner?)
Ed locked himself in the bathroom to change, because, "We're never going to get dressed at this rate, and you know it."
Roy was fairly certain he could keep from molesting Ed just because he was naked, but he could see the sense in not tempting fate.
As often as Roy had taken his aunt's women out to dinner or evening shows – either as part of their payment for whatever information they'd brought him, or because he'd got word that something had gone to shit in their personal lives and he thought they needed a pick-me-up – he'd never bothered to get anything more fancy than the basic black dinner suit with a black bowtie and a white shirt. At least he and Ed would match, since the blond had settled on a black suit, though the styles of their jackets were slightly different.
When Ed finally stepped out of the bathroom, finger-combing his long hair back into a high tail, Roy realised that seeing Ed dressed up, for once – trying on the suits hadn't really counted, since Roy hadn't seen the ensemble on him after the alterations so they'd fit had been finished – was nearly as tempting as getting him naked.
And then Ed glanced up, his hair fixed, and stopped, raking Roy with a heated gaze. "Well, then," he said, voice gone low, as he closed the last few steps between them. "There I was, going to bitch about how much of a pain in the arse getting dressed up was, but I might have to change my mind."
Roy chuckled and reached up to fix Ed's crooked bowtie. "There are some perks to nice clothing, besides being socially preferred for fancy occasions. That said, do attempt to resist the urge to remove any part of them until after we're back home after the show."
Ed snorted. "Likewise, bastard," he retorted, before catching Roy's hands. "Can I borrow your hands for a moment?"
Roy raised an eyebrow at him; what was Ed intending to use alchemy for? "Of course."
Ed flashed him a quick, grateful smile, then pressed Roy's hands together.
The array that flickered through Roy's mind was somehow familiar, though he couldn't quite place it, and was clearly low-powered, because it didn't take long at all before Ed pressed one of Roy's hands against his chest. Red bled across the white button-up, the same shade as his old coat.
"Where did you get the colour from?"
Ed blinked at him, then shook his head. "You're thinking about it wrong; the absence or presence of colour is determined by which colours a particular object reflects or absorbs, which can be manipulated on an atomic level."
Atomic manipulation; that array had looked familiar because it shared some elements with Roy's flame array, which was intended to create and direct a flame by directing the spark along oxygen atoms that he manipulated.
"White," Ed continued, all unaware of Roy's mind going off on its own track, "reflects everything, of course, so it's just a matter of telling the fabric to only reflect red and absorb the rest of the light wave. Which I guess is hard for–"
Roy shut him up with a kiss, only to feel Ed grin against his mouth.
"I bet you could do it," Ed murmured against Roy's lips.
"Very likely," Roy admitted, because atomic manipulation was something he did as easily as breathing, any more, though he didn't usually deal in atoms packed into a solid object. Air and water, certainly, but–
Ed's eyes – eye, too close to be separate – gleamed. "Try," he insisted.
Roy blinked. "Why?"
Ed glanced away for a moment, before looking back at Roy with determination bright in gold eyes. "So we match."
Roy couldn't help but smile at that; well, he had been thinking that he and Ed would match, with their black-on-white ensemble, but then Ed had changed his shirt. "Fair enough," he agreed, and happiness brightened Ed's eyes.
Roy stepped back and closed his eyes, trying to recall the array Ed had used. It came to him almost immediately, perfectly formed, accompanied by everything he needed to know to use it, as though, in borrowing his Gate, Ed left behind a copy of his knowledge of any array he used. Which would be an interesting study to run later, involving Al so they knew their findings weren't a fluke.
He shook his head, pushed his inner scientist back into his corner, and focussed on activating the array.
When he opened his eyes, Roy found his shirt had turned the same colour as Ed's, and the wide, proud grin on the blond's face made Roy feel rather like he had the first time he'd managed to use his flame alchemy without setting something he hadn't intended to on fire.
"I think," Ed said, pressing himself against Roy and cupping his face, "I like you in red."
As a child, red had meant lipstick and nails coloured to catch the eye, the roses that the women that had become his family often brought home and would give him with a fond smile. As a teenager, it had come to mean the spark of Master Berthold's fire, that complicated alchemy that he was never quite ready to learn.
In Ishval, red had meant targets, the eyes of his enemies-who-shouldn't-be. Red had meant the blood of his countrymen and women on his hands, staining the sand and rocks they were forced to walk among and sleep upon.
Ten years ago, red had evolved to mean a genius child with gold hair and eyes; insults slung that sometimes cut too deep, and temper tantrums that brought spectators to laughing. Red had come to mean a Stone of mythology, a Stone that was just as blood-stained as the sand and rocks of Ishval.
Six years ago, red had become one of the colours Roy clung to, one of two that never betrayed him to the whims of the Gate. Red had begun to mean redemption, reflected in the eyes of a people he'd once been ordered to kill.
Now, here, red still meant gold hair and eyes; still a genius, but older, trials and accomplishments reflecting in those eyes. Red still meant fire and blood, but it also meant redemption and love, and Roy quietly admitted, "It's growing on me."
Ed's smile gentled, turned into something understanding, and he brushed a brief kiss over Roy's lips. "We should go downstairs," he murmured.
"Yes," Roy agreed, before catching Ed's mouth in a firmer kiss, pulling away just before it would have turned into one or both of them trying to remove their suits and ripping something. "Gloves," he announced, and Ed laughed as he pulled away.
Ed had come up with his own gloves by the time Roy finished pulling on his formal ignition gloves – originally, they'd had his circle stitched in white on the back, but now he didn't bother; clapping slowed him down, but the white stitching was difficult, and the formal gloves always felt weird with it – so they made their way downstairs together.
Anastasia and Natalia both looked quite stunning in gowns of a similar cut, with delicate beading forming swirling patterns around the bodice, a sheer overskirt from the waist down adding volume, and a light jacket that should hold off the evening chill, without needing to be removed inside. The only difference was in the colours of the gowns: Anastasia had picked golden brown, while Natalia had gone with a pale pink. They both also wore jewellery that Roy was fairly certain they'd brought with them, given it seemed far too fine for the shop Riza had taken them to.
"Ah," Roy said, stopping in the doorway of the study, "I do believe I'm been struck dumb by your beauty, highnesses."
"That line works a lot better if you can't actually get it out," Ed offered helpfully.
Roy shrugged. "And yet–"
"Shut up. No one wants to hear your romantic history."
Anastasia laughed and shook her head. "You two also look good together." She touched her chest. "I like the coordination."
"Ed's fault," Roy insisted. "He has a weird thing about the colour red that I will never understand."
"Seriously, shut up," Ed ordered.
"Actually, that reminds me." Roy turned to Ed and said, with a straight face, "If you stood in front of a mirror and held up eleven roses, you would see twelve of the most beautiful things in the world."
Ed stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide with disbelief, before he took a swing that Roy didn't even have to try to dodge. "You did not just use a fucking pick-up line–"
"You're so beautiful," Roy offered, "you made me forget my pick-up line."
Ed groaned and covered his face while the princesses both laughed. "Kill me now."
Roy tugged one of his hands away and pressed a kiss to the back. When Ed peeked out at him, he winked and said, "We should get going before we're late."
"No more pick-up lines," Ed insisted as he and Roy led the way from the room.
"I make no promises."
Ed fell back to walk with Anastasia and pleaded, "Help," in Drachman.
"No," Anastasia replied, followed by something Roy didn't quite catch, but was fairly certain meant she was too amused.
Once everyone was out of the house, as Roy was locking up, he thought he heard the phone ringing but shrugged it off; if it was important, they'd call back, and he knew better than to make Riza wait.
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