FIC: Thinking About You ~ Fullmetal Alchemist ~ Ed/Alter!Roy ~ Teen

[batsutousai]

Title: Thinking About You
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist '03
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairings: Edward Elric/Alternate Roy Mustang
Warnings: Post-WW2, mention of homophobia, mention of prosecution
Summary: "This," Ed muttered as he stared up at the apartment building, "is a terrible idea."

A/N: I asked for prompts for 520 Day via a prompts meme on tumblr, and uranchan asked for "I can't stop thinking about you".
This prompt was actually given to me last year, and I sort of forgot about it when I didn't get to it in time. Sorry? Have it this year instead? ;)

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

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"This," Ed muttered as he stared up at the apartment building, "is a terrible idea."

And, yet, if he went back to the flat he shared with Al and his girlfriend without having spoken to this world's Roy Mustang, Al would do it for him. And, as embarrassing as it was to be here on his own, Al would make it infinitely worse. Which was why Al had set the ultimatum.

Ed didn't raise him right.

He sighed and rubbed his flesh hand over his face, then straightened and made himself walk into the building and up the two flights to Roy's flat.

The Roy who opened the door was rumpled, looking so very much like the Mustang Ed had grown up with when Hawkeye woke him from a nap. "Ed?" he asked, his voice low and thick in a way that warmed Ed in a rather unfortunate way.

Ed cleared his throat and rubbed at his nape. "Can I...come in?" Because no way he was having this super awkward conversation in the hallway. Getting kicked out after the fact would be a thousand times less embarrassing than knowing Roy's super nosy neighbour across the landing had heard everything.

Roy stood back and let him in while he yawned. "Coffee?" he asked as he closed the door behind Ed.

Ed shrugged. "I guess?"

Roy's smile was the same lopsided one Mustang had sometimes worn, but it was so much less guarded.

(And Ed really needed to stop comparing this Roy to the Mustang of his native world. You'd think, after four months of working together on a project for the government, he'd have learnt to see Roy as his own person. And yet.)

Ed took the chance, while Roy pulled down another mug, to look around the flat a bit. It wasn't quite the first time he'd been there – there had been a couple of instances where he'd had a sudden flash of inspiration for their project on a weekend, and since they couldn't discuss it over the phone, he'd just come straight to Roy's flat; Roy had visited Ed and Al a couple of times for a similar reason – but he was usually too focussed on other matters to really look around.

The living room was full of furniture that had seen some use; the couch with flourishes on the dark wood edging, an overly-stuffed leather armchair that was worn through in parts of the seat, a scratched coffee table and two side tables in dark wood, and an antique, dark wood cabinet with an older model radio sitting on top.

The dining room and kitchen, on the other hand, had more modern fixtures; the refrigerator and cooker were both newer models (Ed had actually drooled over the refrigerator a bit the first time he'd seen it), and the table and two chairs were the chrome-edged style that had come into fashion after the end of the war.

It was an interesting dichotomy, one which Ed tried not to read too much into. Instead, he walked over and picked up the only book in view – save the worn crossword puzzle book on the coffee table – which turned out to be a science fiction book borrowed from the library down the way.

"Have you read it?" Roy asked as he joined Ed, holding out one of the cups of coffee.

"I don't read much fiction, science or otherwise," Ed admitted as he set it down with the care he would any library book, then accepted the proffered cup with a quiet, "Thanks."

They'd got each other coffee enough times that Roy knew better than to add any milk to Ed's, and he'd mostly sorted out Ed's preferred sugar-to-coffee ratio, which Ed appreciated; he'd spent a lot of time early on either drinking the coffee with a grimace, or letting it go cold and insisting he got the refills, depending on how badly he'd needed the caffeine.

"So," Roy said as he settled comfortably into the armchair, the leather creaking, "what brings you by? Not the project."

Ed sighed and sat on the couch with far more care than he'd usually use, discomfort making him stiff. "Not the project," he agreed, because they'd finished and turned in all their work last week.

Roy straightened, his eyes sharpened, and Ed was again reminded far too much of Mustang. "What's wrong?" he demanded, and his accent was a little different, but the tone of his voice was so much Mustang, it ached.

This was a terrible, horrible idea. Ed was going to kill his brother. Assuming he didn't spontaneously combust in the middle of Roy's living room.

He set his coffee down on one of the coasters – Roy was as much a stickler about that as Al was, even though his coffee table had clearly suffered its share of cup rings over the course of its life – and straightened. He tried to meet Roy's gaze, but his eyes got stuck on his nose. "I–" He huffed out a breath and looked away, towards the crossword book. "You know that, that I was in Germany. That we fled. Prosecution." It was probably the worst-kept secret Ed and Al had, that they'd been in Germany during Hitler's rise to power, then fled across Europe, catching a boat to America and hoping against all hope that they – that Ed – would be safe there.

"Yes," Roy said, voice quiet and careful, like he wasn't certain where this was leading.

Ed took a deep breath, then blurted out, "I'm gay."

Roy was quiet for a long, terrible moment. And then he said, "Okay." Not quite like it was no big deal, but pretty close. Like he was maybe trying to make light of it.

Ed wasn't certain if he wanted to punch him or not, but he held tight to the little ember of anger that had lit in his chest and used its strength to lift his head and meet Roy's eyes. Gentle, kind eyes, not at all the mocking reminder of Mustang, and the angry words died in Ed's throat, leaving him with, "I can't... I keep thinking about, about you?"

So, about that spontaneous combusting.

Roy's expression didn't twist with anger or disgust, not like the last man Ed had confessed to, the one who had sent the Gestapo after him. Instead, he smiled ever so slightly, warm and kind in a way that made Ed feel a little less like he needed to run for the door. "That makes two of us, then," he said.

Ed blinked, and it took him way too long to connect that properly. "Wait, but you– You're straight!" Because Roy had been dating a woman when they first started working together. They'd broken up in the middle of the project – Ed hadn't asked, but he'd always assumed it was because the project was interrupting their relationship – and Roy'd moped for a couple days before throwing himself back into work.

Roy grimaced. "Yes, and no. I like both. Men and women."

"...oh."

Roy let out a loud breath, not quite a sigh, then straightened. "So, you'd have to wait a bit, because I need a shower, but we can do lunch? Or dinner, if that's better? Or we can–"

Ed kissed him, because he'd been wanting to for a while, honestly. Also, Roy wasn't quite as prone to endless rambling as Ed, but he could talk a man's ear off about pointless shit if no one stopped him.

"Or that," Roy said when Ed pulled back a bit. And then Roy was the one kissing Ed. Like he wanted to. Like he'd be perfectly happy to just spend the day kissing in the living room while their coffee went cold.

Okay, so Ed wouldn't need to kill Al.

.