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Title: Offer Me ~ RoyEd
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood/manga
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairings: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth
Summary: Despite having the paperwork that made it official in his hands, becoming Führer didn't feel real.

Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: From a list of (drabble) prompts on tumblr, an anonymous user requested “Offer Me” RoyEd please.
Oh, look, an excuse to actually do something with the 520 cenz. XD

Posting for 520/RoyEd Day, because that's half the reason I went asking for prompts.
(Once again, not even pretending to be a drabble. ^^; How do people actually do drabbles? Where do I go to learn this skill?)

-0-

While Grumman's retirement and Roy's own promotion to Führer were hardly unexpected, he still felt a sense of disbelief when he finished signing the last of the official paperwork that formally appointed him to the position.

"Congratulations, Führer Mustang," Grumman said with a bright twinkle in his eyes, even as he struggled to stand.

"Thank you, sir," Roy replied, just barely stopping himself from referring to his former superior by the title that was now his.

"Any plans tonight?"

Roy couldn't quite stop a grimace, because his 'plans', such as they were, hadn't been made by him, but rather forced upon him by his team and aunt. And he appreciated it, that they were excited, he did, but a part of him just wanted to go home and nurse a drink, then get a good night's sleep; doubtless, the next couple of days were going to be exhausting, even if this was a bloodless handover. (One of the rare few in Amestris' history.) "I believe there's to be a great deal of drinking tonight. Probably not a free bar, though, given how stingy the proprietress is."

Grumman laughed, because he and Chris Mustang had been friends longer than Roy had been alive, and Roy had never once seen the man hand over any money for a drink when he visited her pub. "Tell her to put it on the military's tab," he joked.

"I am not going to start a war with accounting over alcohol," Roy returned dryly.

Grumman laughed again and turned to leave. "Perhaps I'll drop by."

"We'll be happy to have you if you do, sir," Roy promised, and meant it. Grumman was a bit of an acquired taste, especially once he got drinking, but it was a taste his team and Chris' staff were used to, and it would be a nice change from Havoc and Breda's usual attempts at humour.

Grumman turned at the door and saluted him, which Roy returned, then turned and saw himself out.

Leaving Roy alone in the massive office.

He wondered when it would start to feel real.

-0-

Honestly, the last person he'd expected to see at his celebratory party was Edward Elric, given how impossible it had always been to get into contact with him. But he was already there when Roy and his team got to Madam Christmas, describing one of his adventures to a crowd of Chris' staff, while Alphonse sat next to him, looking more than a little resigned. They both looked well, Roy was grateful to find. He'd seen Alphonse a few times over the past couple years, while he'd been assisting with the Xingan delegation, but he hadn't seen Edward since he'd left for Resembool after the Promised Day, and he looked...good. Happy.

Far too attractive.

Alphonse was the one to notice them, and his whole face lit up as he waved. "Congratulations, Führer!"

"Roy!" Peggy called in recognition, and then all of the ladies who worked for his aunt were moving forward to hug him or kiss his cheek, and Roy laughed and let himself get dragged along by the happy atmosphere.

Grumman and some other soldiers and civilians that Roy or a member of his team trusted trickled in over the next hour, and Roy found himself constantly being congratulated, sat at the bar in a place of honour. Thankfully, after his first glass, Chris had started serving him barley tea, rather than anything alcoholic, so while the rest of the attendees were getting progressively more drunk, he was able to enjoy the evening mostly sober.

And he was enjoying himself, as much as he'd complained. And a part of him would still rather be sitting in silence, contemplating going to bed, but he found he didn't mind the noise and promise of a late night quite so much as he'd been anticipating.

"Yo, Führer Bastard," Edward said, before dropping inelegantly into the empty stool next to Roy and slamming his glass on the bar, the first thing he'd said to Roy all evening.

Roy couldn't even pretend to be surprised.

"Edward," he replied, turning a pleasant smile to combat the wide grin his former subordinate had aimed at him. "I was wondering when you'd make a nuisance of yourself."

Edward snorted, his eyes alight with amusement and a faint brushing of pink colouring his cheeks, though a glance at his glass showed it was the same barley tea Roy had, and he wondered how long ago Chris had cut Edward off, or if it had been a conscious choice of his own not to drink.

It occurred to him that he didn't really know Edward any more, after over six years without contact, which was both disheartening and intriguing.

"Yeah, didn't wanna deal with your simpering fans," Edward returned, still smiling, but there was something in his voice...jealousy?

"As if you don't have simpering fans of your own," Roy replied before taking a sip of his tea.

Edward frowned at that, so very clearly confused, before shaking his head and letting out a huff. "Whatever. Anyway, came over to fulfil a promise." And he held out a hand and dropped some change to the bar top.

One of the ten cenz pieces started to roll away, but Roy reached out and caught it before it could vanish behind the bar and Chris claimed it as her own. "I seem to recall," Roy said, looking down at the three coins, "that there was a second part to that promise."

"Yeah, you've got my drinks, right?" Edward said, laughter in his voice. "It's all been tea, so that's not too much extra, especially since you just got a massive pay raise."

"I should start charging you interest," Roy muttered as he slid the coins off the table and slipped them into his pocket, because Chris always charged him the same, tea or alcohol, and he doubted she'd change that just because he was paying someone else's tab. He'd have to remember to ask for a receipt, so he could hand it over to Edward once it was time for the other to pay him back.

Edward laughed outright, and Roy glanced over to find his face practically aglow, nothing at all like the deep scowls and tired smiles that Roy was more familiar with. His throat felt tight, and he couldn't tell if it was because he was happy for the change, or regretted that all he could remember were the shadows that had once haunted Edward.

And then Edward turned to look at him, his smile still wide and eyes still bright, but there was a hint of uncertainty there, and the pink dusting his cheeks had darkened. "Interest, huh?" he said, his tone odd in a way that Roy couldn't quite figure out. "I got your interest right here." And then he leant in and pressed a quick kiss to Roy's mouth.

Roy felt his eyes go wide, couldn't make his limbs move as Edward pulled away and threw back the last of his tea, then stood. "Congrats and all that bullshit, Roy," he offered, his smile too tight.

Edward's glass slamming back down against the bar, far too final, was what spurred Roy into action, and he twisted on his stool, reaching out and catching Edward's nearer wrist in one hand.

Edward flinched, but he lifted his head and met Roy's eyes all the same, a familiar turn of rebellion to his mouth.

"That," Roy heard himself say, as though from a distance, "was hardly seven years' worth of interest."

Edward's expression blanked for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed and he stepped into Roy's space, taller than him only because Roy was sitting. "What the fuck, you cheapskate. You want mo–"

Roy leant up and, cupping Edward's face with his free hand, pressed his mouth to the blond's.

Edward was utterly still for a long moment, and then he pushed in close, one hand fisting in Roy's jacket so tightly, it was almost like he intended to rip it off him, and the wrist Roy was holding twisted until Edward could grip his wrist back, just on the edge of too tight. He was violence contained, had always been, and something in Roy's chest loosened at this proof that Edward hadn't actually changed all that much.

And then someone let out a whistle and someone else said, rather loudly, "Finally."

Edward pulled his mouth away from Roy's and looked back over his shoulder to snarl, "Shut the fuck up, Alphonse!" His face was nearly as red as his old coat had been, but he hadn't loosened his grip on Roy, nor attempted to step away.

"Bets on whether our valiant Führer's going home alone tonight?" Havoc called, apparently drunk enough to think it was a good idea to say that where both Roy and Riza could hear.

Roy made a mental note to find a suitable punishment, even while most of the room laughed, and Breda called back, "No one here's stupid enough to take that bet!"

Edward turned back to him as the crowd filling the pub started a round of some friendly ribbing, none of which was aimed at the two of them – probably wise, since Roy would remember perpetrators in the morning. Edward didn't quite meet his eyes, staring at his nose, instead, as he asked, "Sho– No, could I come home with you? Tonight."

Roy wanted to say yes, he really did, because as nice as a quiet night in had sounded, going home with Edward – with this older, happier, undeniably handsome Edward – and then getting to wake up to him sounded...so much better. Like that one gift that you could never actually bring yourself to ask for, but you wanted so much it ached.

However.

"How much have you had to drink?" he had to ask.

"None," Edward snarled, and he sounded irritated, but not defensive, so he was probably telling the truth. And he had said his tab was all tea. "And this isn't because of fuckin' Havoc being a massive dick or whatever bullshit is going through your dumb head. Look." He pointed toward the door.

Roy looked, and was vaguely surprised to recognise the suitcase Edward had always travelled with, sat innocently next to the door. It didn't look dusty, like it usually did when Edward had only just got off the train before coming in to the office, and Edward himself didn't look particularly travel worn, so it was unlikely he'd just got in. More likely, the suitcase was left there so he could make a quick escape, if necessary.

It was premeditation on a level that Roy wasn't used to seeing from Edward, and yet seemed wholly suitable, when he considered who had kissed whom first: Edward had come in with a plan, and contingencies if it fell through. Roy wouldn't be surprised to find a ticket for one of the trains leaving that night in the suitcase, and it hurt, a little bit, that Edward had felt the need to make an escape plan. That he thought Roy would actually turn him away, or, worse, turn on him.

And, yet, were he in Edward's position, Roy would have done exactly the same thing, assuming he'd even been able to drum up the courage to make the first move.

There was only one possible response, in the end, and Roy smiled as he murmured, "Perhaps we should make our escape, then. Before they cotton on."

Edward flashed him a grin that was so near to vicious, Roy wondered if he shouldn't worry about his home's structural integrity. "That's the best fucking plan you've ever had."

"I feel like I should be insulted," Roy murmured, even as he motioned for Edward to lead the way out; Chris knew where to find him with her bill, and the extra she'd tack on for having to hunt him down would be worth it.

Edward's grin widened, eyes bright with the sort of mocking humour that he'd almost certainly learnt from Roy himself, and Roy knew exactly what he was thinking: 'If that's enough to leave you insulted, you're in deep shit, bastard.'

Roy just smiled and shook his head, ushering Edward out ahead of him.

520 cenz clinked in his pocket as Roy followed Edward, and, for the first time in what felt like all day, the world – all of his plans and accomplishments – finally felt real.

.

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