Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ed's tired footsteps echoed around him as he walked along the corridors of Central Command. At this time of night the place was relatively peaceful, and those few people he came across spared nothing more than a curious glance at his travel-worn appearance. He had called the office yesterday to let them know he was on his way back from his latest assignment, and his orders were simple. He was to report to Mustang as soon as he returned. No arguments. He wished he could feign ignorance, but he was no idiot. Ed knew too well that Mustang was always fully informed of what happened on his stupid missions.

'If the bastard's so great then why doesn't he do his own dirty work?' he muttered to himself, scuffing absently at the floor. All he wanted was to get back to Al, to make sure his little brother had been all right without him and preferably forget about everything that had happened in the past month. Instead he was going to have to stand in front of Mustang's desk and listen to another lecture on the responsibility of being a State Alchemist.

The worst thing though, the very worst thing, was the tiny, fragile flutter of something other than anger in the pit of his stomach, as if a part of him were actually happy at the thought of attention from the smug git. To start with Ed had not noticed anything different. It had been so subtle that he had not realised that the helpless rage and frustration was taking on another edge of heat, and before he knew it, it was too late. Every bit of contact, every glance or word seemed to stoke the strange new feeling until it was a living thing beneath his ribs, as much a part of him as his lungs or heart or automail.

As if his life had not been fucked up enough, he had to go and get a stupid crush on his male superior officer. His body had finally woken up to the whole concept of sex and decided that – no, actually – girls were just baffling and weird and kind of disturbing. What it wanted was that: pale skin and dark hair, smooth, hard lines of muscle. What it wanted was Roy.

And that was fine with Ed because no one, not even Al, ever had to know. He could just pretend that nothing had changed. He could stand in front of Mustang's desk and carry on trying so damn hard to hate him because that was all he was allowed.

As if Roy with all his women would ever even look at him twice. Even if it weren't for the automail and the scars, he was still just a brat who kept screwing things up. As long as Mustang never found out the truth, never realised that there was so much more bite in Ed's words these days because of what he was trying to hide, then everything would be fine.

It had to be.

Blinking stupidly, he realised that he was standing outside the office door, staring blankly at the wood as though he had forgotten how to use the handle. Clumsily, he pushed it open and glanced around before stepping over the threshold. The desks were littered with half-complete paperwork, as if every occupant had simply jumped to their feet and run home at the end of the day. That was probably, more or less, exactly what had happened. Havoc's ashtray was full to the brim, and crumb-littered plates were stacked by Breda's chair. An eviscerated radio spilled its wires over Kain's workspace, non-functioning and silent. Only Hawkeye's desk was neat and tidy. Every file was stacked and every pen put in its place, as if the woman thought she could control her life through organisation.

It was tempting just to dump his report and leave, but he had never been a coward. Besides, he couldn't avoid Mustang forever. The sooner he went in the sooner it would be over. Roy would bitch as usual, and Ed would snarl and shout. Then he could storm out and pretend that the flush on his face was anger and not some stomach-churning combination of shame and sheer want.

Taking a deep breath, Ed knocked on the inner office door, not bothering to wait for a response before he barged in. A fire crackled in the grate, but at first glance that was the only sign of life. The chair was empty, a brooding, dark shape behind the paper-cluttered desk. Ink had dripped from the pen onto one of the many documents as if it had just been abandoned, and Ed felt a prickle of unease work its way up his spine.

The room was neat enough, or at least as presentable as it ever was. A few papers littered the floor, screwed up and pitched in the general direction of the fire in disgust. There was no blood or singe-marks or any sign of a struggle. The windows were unbroken, and there was no kick marks or signs of damage on the door. No one had forced their way in here, so where was the bastard? Not attacked and probably not kidnapped, so had he just got fed up of waiting and buggered off?

It seemed like the mostly likely explanation and, with a heavy sigh, Ed dropped his report on top of a stack of files and turned towards the fire. He’d better put it out, although it would serve the idiot right if he left it lit and a stray spark burned the command building down. That would put a real crimp in Mustang’s promotion prospects for a while.

The soft, thick pile of the carpet muffled Ed’s footsteps as he approached the hearth, sweat prickling along his hairline in response to the heat belting out into the room. Yellow and orange tongues of flame lapped at the wood, white hot at their heart. What kind of freak lit the fire in the middle of summer anyway? It wasn’t even like it was cold.

A dark shape moved in the corner of his vision, and he spun around, almost losing his balance as he stared at the sofa. It was facing the grate, which explained why he had not seen Mustang to begin with. His long body was curled up into a tight ball on the couch, a thick, black military coat wrapped around him like a blanket. Underneath he was wearing his uniform, jacket and all; Ed could make out the glint of gold braid near the line of Roy’s neck. How was he not baking to death?

Quietly Ed shifted closer, trying not to notice how much more human and approachable Roy looked when he slept. Every trace of superiority had been wiped clean from his face. There was no smirk or cold, arrogant distance. He looked younger like that, as if all the sins that tainted his expression during his waking hours were wiped clean by the blessing of slumber. The only things that marred the blissful image were two flags of high colour on his cheekbones.

Tugging off his glove, Ed reached out with his left hand, cautiously feeling Mustang’s forehead. Roy’s skin was smooth beneath the roughness of his palm, but it was burning with a rough-edged heat. It could just be from the fire but, as he watched, Mustang pulled back from his touch with a shiver, curling himself tighter and burying his nose into the folds of the coat.

A fever then, and Ed struggled to remember his childhood. Al hadn’t been ill in years. He hadn’t had a body, and the worst thing that happened to the armour was rust. Even in the months since getting him back from the gate he had not suffered more than a cold. As for Ed, he couldn’t even really remember what it felt like to be ill. What was he meant to do? Should he wake him up or let him sleep?

Unwelcome worry made anger prickle through him, and he whacked Mustang’s shoulder with a growl. ‘Wake up, bastard. If you’re ill then you should go home, not stay here and spread your germs around.’

There wasn’t much in the way of a response. It was not until Ed splayed the cool fingers of his automail hand across Mustang’s brow that he jerked awake, yanking himself away from the chilly touch of metal as if it were physically painful.

Roy’s eyes were glazed as he squinted in the flickering firelight, and he gave a hoarse groan of misery, batting Ed’s hand away. ‘What time is it?’ he rasped, letting his head fall back to the sofa cushions as if he did not have the strength to hold it up.

‘Late. What’s wrong with you? You look like shit.’

With shaking hands Mustang clutched the coat closer around him, trembling visibly now that he was awake. ‘I’m fine,' he mumbled stubbornly, mustering up a weak glare when Ed just raised a doubtful eyebrow.

‘Yeah, right. Look, just tell me what’s wrong so I can work out what to do with your sorry arse.’

‘Just go home, Fullmetal. I can look after myself.’ If Roy knew he was being childish then he didn’t show any sign of remorse. Instead he watched Ed closely. When he blinked it was incredibly slow, as if he could not find the strength to move his eyelids properly, and after a few seconds his eyes narrowed to sleepy slits, turning unfocussed.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ Ed snatched the coat away, holding it out of Mustang’s reach as he snatched for it feebly. ‘Get up. Come on, you can still walk, can’t you?’ When Roy made no effort to move and instead huddled himself further back into the couch cushions, Ed turned towards the fire, snuffing the flames out with a simple clap. Instantly the room began to cool, and he heard Mustang make a harsh sound at the loss of heat.

‘Brat,’ Roy croaked, his skin even more pale now that the room was only lit by the streetlamps shining in through the windows. ‘It’s ‘flu, that’s all.’

‘So what were you going to do?’ Ed asked incredulously. ‘Lie in your office until someone found you on Monday? Why didn’t you go home?’

He saw Roy’s eyes close again and felt a tiny pang of guilt. It was difficult to stay irritated when Mustang was so obviously, earnestly suffering. He had seen the man’s pathetic attempts at getting Hawkeye to let him off work before, but this was different. He was not even trying to be stoic, and he could have gone home hours ago. Instead he was slumped here as if he did not have the strength to stand.

‘Come on,’ he said more gently, leaning down and awkwardly nudging Roy back towards wakefulness. ‘Don’t go back to sleep. We need to get you home. Where do you live, anyway?’

‘Carlton Street,’ Roy managed, his voice breaking as a cough rattled in his chest. Ed waited impatiently for the fit to pass before he pushed and bullied and shoved him to his feet. ‘Get me to a car.’

‘And whose gunna drive?’ Ed asked, not missing the way that Mustang swayed unsteadily. ‘You’d crash into the nearest wall, and I don’t know how.’

There was a moment of silence, as if Roy was trying very hard to think of the right words. Eventually, with just the edge of a smirk in his voice, he said, ‘Probably couldn’t reach the pedals, anyway.’

‘Fuck you,’ Ed snapped, barely resisting the urge to hit him. ‘I should just leave you here to rot.’ He grabbed the coat and threw it around Mustang’s shoulders, yanking it closed hard enough to rock the man on his feet and wishing he could just throttle him. Even when he was ill, he was still a total shit.

‘Why don’t you?’

Perhaps Mustang had meant the question to be scathing, but it came out as something more open and vulnerable, as if he honestly could not understand a simple act of human kindness when it came from Ed. Did he really think of him as such a selfish kid that he would leave someone so ill to fend for themselves?

‘Equivalent exchange,’ he muttered, doing up Roy’s coat as if he were a little boy who needed wrapping up against the cold. ‘I’m not an idiot; I know you look out for me and Al.’ Ed shrugged. ‘Now I’m looking out for you.’ He fastened the last button with a jerk and scowled up at Mustang’s confused gaze. ‘Don’t get used to it, though. I’m not a bloody nursemaid.’

After a few seconds Roy’s shoulders slumped and he nodded, hunched and pitiful in his coat. Dark shadows bruised under his eyes, and every step was a slow, careful movement. By the time they were back in the corridor, Ed realised that they weren’t going to get anywhere in any hurry. Without a word he hooked his automail arm around Roy’s waist, letting him lean on him as he walked. He seemed too weary to even consider his dignity, and when they eventually reached the front doors Ed was beginning to think it would be quicker to just knock the bastard out and drag him.

The night air was warm and humid, but Mustang continued to shiver, his lips pinched in a tight line as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Carlton Street was two blocks away, and more than once Ed suggested that they stop, but Roy was having none of it. Ed couldn’t believe everyone thought he was the stubborn one.

‘Should just take you to Hawkeye,’ Ed muttered. When Mustang looked at him with a puzzled expression he added, ‘At least she could shoot you and put you out of your fucking misery. You can stop and get your breath back, you know. What do you think I’m gunna do, leave you behind?’

‘Not stopping,’ Roy managed to grind out, but Ed couldn’t ignore the fact that he was getting heavier and leaning more and more of his weight on him. The firm, hard body beneath his automail was shuddering sporadically. They probably didn’t have long before Mustang just dropped. No matter how much his mind fought against the illness, he could not keep going like this indefinitely.

It was the longest walk of Ed’s life, but he knew that it had to seem ten times as bad to Roy. By the time they staggered up the steps to his front door every breath was hitching in his throat, and his eyelids were fluttering closed out of sheer, irrefutable exhaustion. Ed’s muscles panged from bearing most of Roy’s weight, and he carefully propped the older man against the wall, holding him up by the shoulders.

‘Where are your keys?’

‘Hmmm?’ Roy mumbled sleepily, his head lolling back against the brickwork.

‘Keys. Where are they?’

‘Pocket.’

‘Get them then.’

Mustang’s clumsy attempts were almost painful to watch, and after a few minutes he shook his head. ‘Can’t.’

‘Don’t piss about,’ Ed snapped, closing his eyes in disbelief when Roy just slumped a little lower down the wall. He simply didn’t have the energy left to even lift his arms anymore. He was verging on unconsciousness, eyes closed and every breath an uneven hiss between his lips.

A faint flush flared in Ed’s cheeks as he considered his options. He could either grope through Roy’s pockets or he could transmute the door open - except that would mean letting go of Mustang, and Ed was pretty sure that he was the only thing holding him up right now.

‘Pervert,’ he snarled. ‘You’re doing this deliberately. I should just leave you on the doorstep.’

Roughly, he pressed Roy back into the wall with his right hand and skimmed his left down Mustang’s side. He didn’t even know whether the keys were in his coat pocket or one of the many that adorned his uniform. After a few heartbeats of embarrassed patting he sensed a jagged lump at Roy’s right hip.

Ed swallowed tightly. He had faced down chimeras and insane alchemists without flinching. He was not afraid of this. Besides, he had a reason to have his hand in his commanding officer’s trousers. ‘You’d better not remember this,’ he muttered quietly, pressing his body closer to Roy’s to help keep him upright before slipping his hand under the coat and jacket.

This close he could feel the solid, steady beat of Roy’s heart in his chest. Every breath Ed took was fragranced with the spice of Mustang’s cologne and the fainter, addictive scent of his skin, and Ed’s nerves buzzed and thrilled in response. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing. There was so much heat, and it seemed to be spreading from Roy’s body to his own, a flickering fire that danced across his skin.

Clearing his throat, he stared blindly at the blank darkness of the military coat in front of his face, feeling his way along the chain of Roy’s watch until he found the folds of his pocket. Ed’s fingertips skimmed the hard plane of Roy’s thigh through the thin fabric, and he felt the muscle tremble. It was just the fever, he told himself, nothing more. Roy was shivering because he was ill, not because of Ed’s inadvertent touch.

Grabbing the keys, Ed pulled them free of their confines. The blush strengthened, becoming a thudding warmth in his cheeks as he realised Roy was watching him through half-closed eyes, something bright and unmasked burning in their depths. Ed gritted his teeth, forcing himself to be logical. Roy was probably delusional. He probably didn’t even know who Ed was right now, and reading anything at all into this situation was just plain stupid.

The keys jangled together in his shaking hand, and he tore himself free of Roy’s gaze with a jerk, furious at himself for feeling this way. It was time to get out of here. He would make sure that Roy was safe inside his own home and then leave. He’d get back to Al and forget all of this had ever happened. Better that than to stay and risk doing something terminally embarrassing - like kissing the bastard.

Shoving the door open he grabbed Mustang and pushed him inside, automatically searching the strange territory for any threat. He did not know what he had expected, had never really given any thought as to what Roy’s personal space would look like, but he had not thought he would feel this: a subtle sense of home.

‘What’s wrong?’ Roy’s rasping question broke into his thoughts, and Ed scowled to himself as he realised he’d been staring around like an idiot.

‘Nothing.’ The house was surprisingly big, and Ed looked around in confusion before asking, ‘Where’s your bedroom?’

‘Upstairs.’

He gave Roy a dark, sarcastic look. ‘No shit. Where upstairs? I’m not dragging you around while I look for it.’

The answer took a surprisingly long time in coming, and when it did it was nothing more than a cracked whisper. ‘First door on the left.’

It was a short flight of stairs, but Ed knew it might as well be a mountain for Mustang to climb. Every movement the man made was jarringly pained, and his heart was beating hard and fast underneath Ed’s steadying hands. More than once he thought Roy would just sink to his knees and give up, but in the end they managed to make it to the top.

The bedroom door swung open on quiet hinges, and Ed flicked on the light before guiding Roy to the edge of the mattress, dumping him with unceremonious care on top of the blankets. Mustang didn’t move, he just let out a sigh of shivering relief, still trembling as if the air was freezing rather than almost stifling.

‘You’re pathetic when you’re ill,’ Ed said, watching the slow blink of Roy’s eyes. He probably had less than five minutes before the bastard fell asleep, and it was blatantly obvious that Mustang could not look after himself.

Biting his lip, Ed glanced around the room, trying to work out what he should do. There was no way he was going to help Mustang get undressed, but he couldn’t just leave him like that. Eventually he settled on the fairly neutral territory of Roy’s boots, undoing the laces with sharp yanks and tugging them off of his feet. The coat came next, and it took endless pushing and poking to get Roy to relinquish the thick, warm wool and the thinner comfort of his uniform jacket.

When he was finally down to his shirt and trousers, Ed gave up. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. At least Roy wouldn’t overheat like that. Moving more carefully, he tugged and twitched the covers up around Mustang’s shoulders, allowing himself a faint smile as Roy’s fingers curled around them, clinging on even as he sank into sleep.

Ed wasn’t even sure whether he should call a doctor - was half-inclined to grab the phone and get someone else to deal with this whole problem, but he’d come this far. If he left now it kind of felt like giving up. Besides, now that he was asleep Roy didn’t look nearly so bad. His breathing seemed easier, and at least he looked peaceful.

The house was silent, locked in the tight peace of the night, and Ed looked around the bedroom with uncontrolled curiosity. So this was where the magic happened. He rolled his eyes at the thought, but he had to admit that it was not exactly boudoir material. It looked normal: no kinky sex toys lying around the place and no notches in the bedpost. There were books though, lined up neatly in an oak bookcase, and Ed could not resist their call.

He let his fingers walk over the spines, not surprised that most of them were about fire alchemy. There were a couple that caught his eye, and with a quick glance back at the bed he pulled one free and flicked open the pages, settling on the floor as he began to read. It was easy to immerse himself in the theories and thoughts, forgetting all about where he was and why he was there, and it wasn’t until a soft, tight noise broke the quiet that he looked up, wincing at the stiffness in his shoulders and neck. For a second he couldn’t remember where he was, but the sound came again, forcing him to set the book aside and get clumsily to his feet.

Roy was still lying in the bed, but his sleep was no longer deep and undisturbed. The man’s face was a mask of something like pain, and there was no mistaking the crystal glimmer of tears in the corners of his closed eyes. His hands were knotted into white-knuckled fists, twisting in the sheets as if he were trying to tear himself free from the cage of his bed.

Ed hovered at his side, paralysed by indecision until a hoarse, choked off scream made him move forward, climbing onto the wide mattress as he clutched at Roy’s shoulder. ‘Hey, wake up. It’s just a dream.’ Without really thinking he cuffed a tear away from Roy’s cheek and made soft shushing noises like he used to do for Al when they were little. ‘Roy? What’re you –?’

He jerked from sleep like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water, gulping in air like he had forgotten how to breathe. Ed could see the nightmare lingering around him, from the wildness in his eyes to the soul-deep shaking that was borne of fear, not fever.

Clumsily, he brushed the sweat-damp hair out of Roy’s eyes, not taking his right hand off of his shoulder as he tried to make Roy realise that this was what was real. With a soft nudge Ed pushed him back into the pillows as he murmured, ‘It was just a dream, that’s all. You’re at home in Central. You’re safe.’ He hesitated, not missing the lingering signs of ill exhaustion that had branded themselves across Roy’s features. ‘Have you got painkillers?’ he asked, feeling a flutter of relief as Roy managed to nod.

‘In the bathroom.’

Shuffling off the bed, Ed walked quickly out into the corridor, trying to ignore the feeling of dark eyes watching every move until he was out of sight. He opened doors at random until he finally found the bathroom: a world of white porcelain and gleaming taps. Either Mustang was as finicky as Al when it came to keeping the place tidy or he hired a cleaner. A mirrored cabinet revealed what he was looking for, and he grabbed a glass of water before popping the painkillers from their packet. If nothing else they would keep Roy’s temperature steady for a while and help him get the sleep he needed.

He made his way back to the bedroom slowly, holding the glass with almost childish care. He was not going to give Mustang any more reason to bitch at him, like ruining his carpets with spills. He expected Roy to have gone back to sleep in the few minutes he had been gone, but the man was nestled in the blankets, blearily watching the door for his return.

Ed perched on the edge of the mattress, watching Roy closely as he took the pills without a word. Even though he was still shaking fitfully, he seemed more alert than he had before. His body seemed drained, but the sharp mind he knew so well seemed to be recovering at least a fraction of its usual capacity. After a few sips, Mustang seemed to run out of strength, and he put the glass on the bedside table before slumping back down onto the mattress with a quiet groan.

Getting to his feet, Ed twitched in surprise when Roy’s fingers locked around his wrist. It was not a strong grip, and Ed could have prised himself free easily, but there was something desperate in Mustang’s expression, as though he could not bear to be left alone. There were no masks or walls or barriers, just vulnerability. Shakily, his fingers tangled in Ed’s, tugging him down with weak persistence. ‘Please stay?’

Ed hesitated, knowing that it would be best to pull away. Roy was only asking him because the tatters of the nightmare still lingered in the room, and he felt too ill and weak to deal with them alone. In the morning he would think differently. He’d find Ed’s presence nothing more than an alarming intrusion. Besides, it was getting too easy to pretend that here, with Roy, was where he belonged.

He opened his lips to say no, but the word choked and died in his throat. Finally, after what felt like hours of standing at the bedside, he gave a weak nod and sat on the bed, stretching out a safe distance from Roy’s side. ‘Someone’s got to look after you,’ he said gruffly by way of explanation, hoping Roy wouldn’t over-think his reasons for doing as he asked. ‘Go to sleep, or I’ll tell Hawkeye you’re faking it and let her deal with you.’

It was an empty threat, but it seemed to do the trick. Roy’s eyes were already drifting closed, and Ed let himself relax a fraction. Moonlight flooded in through the open curtains. The silver mixed with the warm gold glow from the lamp, giving the room a soft, ethereal appearance. It bleached out the flush in Roy’s cheeks, and Ed could almost pretend that this was real and permanent, rather than just one night born of circumstances.

The top buttons of Roy’s shirt had wrenched themselves undone in his dream-state struggles, and Ed could see the thrum of his heartbeat in the hollow of his throat. He watched, transfixed by the fluttering motion, and he didn’t even notice Roy’s hand move until fingers brushed against his chin, tugging gently until he was forced to meet his gaze.

In this light, Roy’s eyes were impossibly dark, almost black, and he was staring at Ed with a strange, focussed intensity. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his fingers moved along Ed’s jaw until his palm was cradling the side of his face tenderly.

‘God, you’re beautiful, Ed.’

It was little more than a murmur: a few words caught up in one breath, and almost as soon as they were said Roy’s eyes drifted closed. It was as if he had been hanging onto wakefulness to impart those vital words and now, his job done, he could rest.

Ed swallowed, his lips parted as his mind went blank. His heart was hammering beneath his ribs, clenched and crushed by hope and doubt as he stared at Roy’s sleeping face.

It didn’t mean anything; it didn’t, no matter how much Ed wished otherwise. Roy was sick and probably had no clue what he was saying. When he woke up tomorrow he would just be the same old smug bastard he always was.

And Ed knew with a sore, sick certainty that, when morning came, Roy would not remember a word of what he had said.

Chapter Text

Roy's senses were scorched, burning up in a fire that he could not control. It was not a thrilling, passionate blaze or a subtle warmth, but a sickly, stifling heat that pressed dense hands over his mouth and scratched at his skin with fervent barbs.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead, and relief flooded through Roy's body, soothing jangled nerves and allowing him to draw breath. Someone was speaking to him, but it seemed to be coming from a great distance. He wanted to stretch out and clutch at the words as if they were a lifeline, but his arms were dead weight and refused to budge.

Opening eyes that felt as if they were filled with sand, he blinked up at the person leaning over him. Gold hair, eyes, skin and the striking gleam of a silver arm. Ed, watching him with the strangest look on his face, as if he was actually worried about Roy's well-being. Except that could not be right. Ed didn't give a damn about him. He made that clear every time he set foot in the office, full of scathing words and biting sarcasm and the twitchy impatience that suggested he would rather be anywhere than in Roy's presence.

The dichotomy made Roy's head thud painfully, and he pressed closer to the cold blessing of the automail. It was like a drink of water after two dry days in the desert, a balm to the frazzled, crackling heat that simmered a hair's breadth beneath his skin. Blankets held him prisoner against the mattress with their oppressive weight, and, when he struggled weakly to be free of their folds, mismatched hands swept them away as if they were no heavier than feathers.

'Your fever's breaking. That's why you feel so hot. Drink this.'

Ed slipped his arm under Roy's shoulders, lifting him with ease so that he could slowly sip on the water. It was probably room temperature, but it felt miraculously chilled on his tongue, like life itself, and he swallowed greedily. Within a minute the glass was empty, and he sagged back into Ed's grip as his fractional strength drained away.

Roy closed his eyes as Ed lowered him unceremoniously back to the pillows. He had never been a good patient; the defenceless vulnerability sickened him, and he normally responded to kind words and gestures with biting comments and petulant glares. Helplessness had never sat comfortably with him, but even in his fogged state he could see that Ed was edgy, as if he were afraid that he would do Roy more harm than good by taking care of him. The thought was like mist, intangible and almost impossible to hold onto as exhaustion pulled at him with grabby hands, plunging him back into sleep before Ed had even put the glass back down on the bedside table.

He drifted in and out of dreams flecked with gold. There was no darkness, and whenever the shadows of his subconscious reached out for him they were held at bay by soft, mellow light that never left his side. The ravaging heat ebbed away, replaced with comfortable, natural warmth that filled his veins like a drug, freeing him from the bite of aches and pains.

The next time he opened his eyes, dawn was breaking, edging the features of the room in pearl. A fresh breeze whispered in through the window, making him reach for the blankets that had been shoved down to the bottom of the bed. His body was still shaky and frail, but he felt a hundred times better than he had when he had curled up on the sofa in his office. Clear, glassy thoughts drifted through his mind. They were a little disconnected, but the shroud of fever and pain no longer choked his mental faculties.

His neck was stiff, and it creaked in protest as he turned his head on the pillow to look at the young man next to him. Ed was soundly asleep, his breath steady and slow between parted lips. He was huddled up in a ball, and Roy realised that he was curled up above the blankets. Was that a conscious decision, some vague effort to draw the line, or had he just fallen asleep that way? He had learned long ago that trying to guess Ed's motives was futile. Sometimes he had the noblest reasons for his actions, and others there seemed to be no pause for thought before he plunged on ahead.

With small, jerky movements Roy spread the blankets out so that they were draped over Ed's shoulders and bare arms. He was wearing a black vest, leather trousers and, Roy noticed, his dusty boots which had already trailed grubby marks across the sheets. Of course, he had just got back from assignment, hadn't he? For once it looked like he had followed orders and had not even gone home before heading for the office.

Roy winced as he remembered the reason he had demanded Ed's presence. Assignments were never as straightforward as they seemed, and he had received a frothing phone call of complaint about his subordinate's actions. From what he had been able to make out, Ed had ended up in the midst of a mob of angry townsfolk which had, in turn, laid the blame for all their ills firmly at the man who was in control of their small region. General Lovett had been furious and ranting about the loss of his property to a fire, which he accused Ed of starting in order to smoke him out of hiding.

The thought of the paperwork involved, even if Ed had not been to blame, was enough to stir pain in Roy's temples. If it had not been for the fever he would have given Ed at least an hour's worth of a scathing lecture, regardless of his explanation, but as it was the shivers had tangled him in their grasp by the time the sun had set. He could remember lighting the fire and settling down to wait, but hours must have slipped past without him noticing. One moment he had been looking at the flames, the next Ed had been there, shaking him awake with cold hands and a deep scowl.

Now, there was no sign of that anger. Ed was a different person when he slept, smooth-faced and peaceful. The lines of annoyance that seemed to rest on his brow every waking moment were gone, as were the tense creases of irritation that often bracketed his lips. However, even asleep, he still looked older than his seventeen years. He was physically stunning and, even if he was short, there was nothing boyish left about his body.

Even when Ed had first joined the military, he had been so arrogant and determined that people had often forgotten that he was only a child. Now that arrogance had been mellowed with a very small fraction of humility. Not much, of course. After all, he had a great deal to be proud of. Ed's undeniable skill at alchemy had bloomed into a true level of genius that made Roy feel like an amateur in comparison.

If he was honest with himself, Ed inspired a wide range of emotions in him on a daily basis, all of which were hard to conceal. It had become painful to maintain his mask of aloof indifference in Ed's presence. He was so open and unguarded in everything that he did that his very actions seemed to demand reciprocity. He never hid his feelings and never seemed to be afraid to say what was on his mind. More than once Roy had almost lost his reserve, had almost snapped back a sharp retort in answer to Ed's obvious loathing.

It had been surprising, that first time, when Ed had snarled at him with so much emotion, as if the world had gone to shit and it was all Roy's fault. It must have been shortly after he retrieved Al's body from the gate and, at first, Roy thought it was just Ed's reaction to being locked into a contract for another two years: childish and predictable. Yet, as the weeks passed, it became clear that there was something more personal at the heart of all that bluster. Either Ed was using his anger as a shield to hide another emotion entirely or... .

Or he had noticed that some of Roy's glances - subtle, stolen glimpses that he had thought were well-hidden - were more than platonic. If that was the case then the anger could well be a genuine reaction: a way to tell Roy “No fucking chance” without saying a word. Except when had Ed ever not confronted a situation? He did not know the meaning of tact and did not normally care about people's reactions to what he had to say, so why put on a front?

Roy shuffled down into the blankets, muffling his sigh in their thick weave as he continued to study Ed's face, his mind caught up in a circle of confusion. It was impossible to pinpoint the moment when his perception of Ed had changed. He could not put his finger on the day when Ed had walked into his office and taken his breath away for all the right reasons. Normally, his behaviour was a slap in the face, but more and more lately it had been a punch in the heart and a burning, heavy heat in the pit of Roy's stomach.

He could never admit that, though, never come out and say that Ed was more to him than the bratty subordinate who drove him half-mad most of the time. Even if it weren't for all the social and military rules that stood in the way - rules that he would find ways to bend if it meant he could have Ed - he could never leave himself so open and vulnerable.

For the first time since he was a teenager there were no guarantees that the one he admired thought the same of him. Normally there was no question. Men and women alike were willing to join him for a good time. Some even had hopes for something more permanent, but Ed? If he had any sexual inclinations towards Roy then he was doing a damn good job of hiding them.

Roy closed his eyes, wishing things were different. At that moment it was so easy to pretend that they were lovers, that they woke up like this every morning and went to bed in each other's arms, but as soon as Ed opened his eyes the illusion would be gone. Reality was a painful truth, more so because Roy felt safe like this, as if the world could throw anything at him and he would persevere because he had Ed to keep him going

Gently he reached out, brushing his fingertips as lightly as he could over the crest of Ed's cheekbone, sweeping aside a swathe of hair so that he could get a better look at Ed's peaceful features.

'Beautiful.'

His whisper, though it was heavy with emotion, barely stirred the air. He had no idea how Ed saw himself, but he doubted he would accept any compliment graciously, no matter how truthful.

Ed drew in a breath, his face wrinkling in a frown as he stirred, and Roy froze. If he woke up now would he recoil? Would he fight himself free of the blankets and leave, or would he stay? An excuse was ready on the tip of Roy's tongue, an automatic defence against any accusation, but Ed's eyes stayed closed. Instead, he pressed himself closer to the curve of his palm, turning his head to brush a hint of a kiss on the underside of Roy's wrist. It was the tiniest flutter of sensation, innocently intimate, and Roy's breath caught in his throat as fire shot through his body and jolted between his legs.

With a tiny sigh Ed nuzzled back into the pillow, never emerging from sleep, and Roy softly took his hand away, admonishing himself for reaching out in the first place. He had no right to touch Ed; he had never sought permission and Ed had certainly never given it. Closing his eyes in something like despair he allowed his lips to twist into a grimace, too weak and ruined to hide his emotions now. For all he knew Ed already had a lover, the intended recipient for that chaste little kiss. Maybe Ed normally slept at someone else's side and had mistaken the warm presence of Roy's body for theirs.

Jealousy was a bitter taste on his tongue, and Roy huffed out a breath of self-annoyance. For God's sake, he was being pathetic, feeling envious of an imagined rival. It was demeaning, being reduced to this pining, wretched level, and he scowled at Ed's sleeping figure. It was his fault. All of it. He had burst into Roy's life like a hurricane, all frenzied activity and desperate rush. It was inevitable that, eventually, Roy would be swept up by the thrilling storm of Ed's existence.

'What're you looking so pissed off about?'

Roy jerked, blinking in surprise as he realised that Ed's eyes were open. Sleepy gold gleamed beneath lowered lashes, and he watched the younger man wrinkle his nose before smothering a yawn. Gradually the sleepiness faded from Ed's expression, taking on an edge of something else that Roy could not quite identify - hurt, anger, resignation?

'S'not my fault I had to sleep here,' Ed muttered eventually, no doubt assuming he was annoyed at finding Ed in his bed. 'You wouldn't let me leave.' His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else, but with a visible effort he shoved it aside, and his expression took on a weaker version of his normal scowl as he pushed himself up on his elbows Reaching out he pressed his left hand to Roy's forehead. 'You still look like shit. How do you feel?'

'Better than yesterday.' Roy winced at the gravely growl of his voice and swallowed against the dry prickle in his throat before carrying on. 'Thank you, by the way, for taking care of me.'

Ed raised an eyebrow, as if gratitude was the last thing he had expected. Letting his hand drop away, he shrugged, his shoulders moving in an awkward shuffle. 'No one else was there to make sure you didn't die,' he muttered. 'You should look after yourself better. What if I hadn't been there? It's Sunday today. No one's in the office. You wouldn't have been found until Monday. Fuck knows what kind of state you would have been in by then.'

Roy blinked, surprised by the reprimand. Anger he was accustomed to, but this was not Ed's usual bark and bite. He could have been sarcastic or cruel or scathing, but this was an admonishment born of genuine concern. It was not spitting rage or cool disdain, and Roy felt his heart thrill as he realised the truth. Ed had been genuinely worried about him. Ed cared about his well-being.

He turned that thought over in his mind, examining its facets with amazement. He had been almost sure that Ed would have been happier if he never had to set foot in Roy's presence again, but now it was as if he was being given a glimpse of things from a different angle. Ed may push all his emotion into volatile insults and sharp words, but that did not mean that fury was all he felt.

Cautiously, Roy looked at Ed's face, narrowing his eyes as he tried to think. Was Ed being more open with him, or had the illness just made him stop and really see? He could have left Roy to suffer, but he hadn't. That action spoke volumes, and Roy found himself mumbling an apology. 'I would have got home eventually. I didn't even mean to fall asleep. I just shut my eyes for a minute.'

Ed shot him a disbelieving look as he flipped back the blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, getting to his feet in one fluid motion. His hair was all over the place, slipping free of its braid. Ed stretched, and the vest rode up to reveal his smooth, hard stomach. Even clothed Ed was one of the most breath-taking people Roy had ever set eyes on, and he could not help but stare, mouth dry and heart pounding.

With an absent huff of irritation Ed pulled the band out from his braid, running his fingers through his hair before catching it up in a high ponytail and turning back to Roy. 'At least I don't have to call Hawkeye and explain you're too sick to come to work. You'd better be feeling all right by tomorrow, though, unless you want her over here glaring at you.'

'Hawkeye would never stoop to glaring, Edward.'

'She wouldn't think twice about shooting you, though.' He put his hands on his hips and tipped his head to one side as he gave Roy a critical look. 'Do you want anything to eat?'

The thought of food made Roy's stomach twist in tight knots, and his expression must have spoken for him because Ed snorted before turning towards the door. 'Well I'm starving. I haven't eaten anything for ages.' He grabbed the glass from the bedside table. 'I'll get you some more painkillers. Get some more sleep. You'll probably feel better for it.' He did not wait for a reply before slipping out of the door, and Roy stared after him, feeling bereft.

Sleep was easier said than done, and he lay staring at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of Ed moving around downstairs. There was the clatter of plates and the noise of Ed opening cupboards in search of some sustenance. Not that he was likely to find much. Roy had meant to go grocery shopping last night. Since he had not had the chance most of the shelves were probably bare.

A few minutes later he heard footsteps on the stairs, and he turned to watch Ed walk through the door and put a full glass of water on his bedside table. He hovered there for a moment, and again, Roy got the impression that he was trying to find the right words to say something, but again he swallowed them back, his lips pressed into a flat line as if he were angry at himself.

'I need to go and stop Al freaking out,' Ed said eventually. 'He was expecting me to come home last night and I – I kinda forgot to call him and tell him where I was.' He winced, rubbing a hand through his hair as if he could already picture his brother's worry. 'Will you be all right on your own?'

Roy's heart sank, and he felt foolish for the sudden sadness that coiled heavy in his stomach. Of course Ed was going to leave. He could hardly expect him to stay forever. The fever had gone, and he was no longer so weak that he could not take care of himself on a basic level. Still, he wished he could think of a good reason to get Ed to stay, just for a little longer, just until he felt more able to face the world alone again.

'I'll be fine,' he murmured, glad that the roughness of his voice hid any nuances of emotion that may have found their way into his words. 'Thank you, again.'

'No problem, Mustang.' Ed paused, and a steady, genuine smile spread across his lips. 'Get better.'

With that he was gone, sauntering out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The slam of the front door echoed in Roy's aching head as he slumped back into the pillows with a groan of misery. It wasn't fair. Before he could have handled the way he felt about Ed, could have pushed it down inside and hidden it beneath arrogant superiority, because it was so obvious that Ed simply did not give a shit about him.

Now, in the space of one night, all that had changed. Now he knew that Ed did care, even if most of the time he acted as if he wished he didn't. He remembered hands, gentle and firm, bullying and soothing, dragging him awake and guiding him home. For the first time ever, Ed had behaved as if he thought Mustang was something fragile and precious; Ed had acted as if he realised that Roy was a human, not just a commanding officer in blue and gold.

Yet he had walked away all the same, leaving Roy to wonder if, once they were back in the office, they would return to the same old dance of anger and distance. His body felt leaden at the thought, as if it could not face the prospect of withstanding Ed's verbal assaults any longer, not now that it knew what it felt like to wake up at his side. How was Roy meant to forget this? How was he meant to couple the softer, caring Ed that had shown himself today with the prickly defensiveness that so often made itself known at work?

Sunlight splashed in through the window, warm and soft as it struck Roy's face. His head was pounding and his joints ached fiercely, and he looked at the bedside table at the two small tablets Ed had placed there before he left. It took a matter of moments to swallow them back, and he stayed perched on the edge of the bed, looking around his bedroom with bleary eyes.

God, he felt awful. Not just ill but disgusting. His mouth tasted vile, and his uniform shirt and trousers were stiff with sweat. Carefully he got to his feet, wobbling unsteadily for a moment as the room performed a sluggish waltz. After a few moments it settled down, and he managed to stagger towards the bathroom.

It did not take long to answer the call of nature or immerse himself under the shower, but by the time he had finished brushing his teeth he felt wrung out. His body had begun to shiver again, childishly warning him that he had already exhausted himself by attempting too much, and it took all his strength to stumble back to bed.

The pillows sighed he slumped gratefully onto the mattress, closing his eyes in sheer relief as he dragged the blankets back over himself. So much for being “fine”. He felt like a train-wreck, shaky and sick. His body was good for nothing, a slumped victim to the chaos of his thoughts.

He should have said something to Ed, anything. Surely even rejection would be better than this endless spiral of unresolved want? Why was it that, in every moment of his life that it mattered, his courage failed him? If Ed had said that he wasn't interested then yes, it would be awkward and difficult, but at least he would know. Maybe then he would be able to move on, rather than remaining stuck in one place, aching for the one person in the world he could not have.

Gradually Roy slipped into a doze, still caught up in questions and doubts. The ticking of the alarm clock became a distant, tinny rhythm, and he could faintly make out the noises of Central, but they were far away, nothing more than a faint urban melody to his tired mind.

Ed's gentle kiss on the inside of his wrist repeated itself, but this time gold eyes were open and knowing, burning with desire as he traced his tongue up to the crook of Roy's elbow.

He skimmed his palm along Ed's bare side, hissing in a breath as Ed arched his back, pressing himself closer. They were both naked, covered only by the softness of the blankets but burning everywhere they touched - chest, stomach, hips, legs entwined and the hot, hard press of Ed's erection against his own – and Roy could hardly draw breath through the taste of need on his tongue.

A kiss brushed along his collarbone, still as light as the flutter of a moth's wing, creeping up across the ridge until Ed pressed his nose to the pulse in Roy's throat, inhaling like an addict getting his fix. Another kiss, but this time there was the scrape of teeth, just sharp enough to make Roy buck against the body over him. Cool steel and warm skin were driving him slowly mad, and his fingers traced the line of metal and flesh obsessively, revelling in the contradiction.

Ed propped himself up on his hands, the muscles in his arm tightening as he supported his weight and grinned down at Roy, holding his body away temptingly. Ever so slowly he lowered his head, lashes fluttering closed as his lips hovered over Roy's, almost touching as his husky voice whispered, 'Hungry?'

The blare of a car horn shattered the dream apart, making Roy lift his head from the pillows with a jerk, scowling in the direction of the window. Afternoon sunlight made the world beyond glow, and the bustle of the after-work rush hour was a constant drone. With a groan of frustration, he shifted his weight, wincing at the throbbing, sensitive heat between his legs, already fading away now that he was awake. If he had been healthy he suspected he would have had to deal with himself, but the weakness over-ruled him, banking the needy fire in the pit of his stomach.

A noise downstairs made him pause, and he slowly turned to look at the door, straining to hear anything over the city sounds coming in through the window. There it was again. A clatter like a pot being put on the stove, and now he realised that the air was scented with the succulent aroma of chicken. His stomach rumbled in appreciation, his appetite returning full-force. The last thing he had eaten had been half a sandwich and a cold cup of coffee at lunch the previous day, and now his mouth was watering.

Clumsily he got out of bed, pulling on a shirt and a pair of trousers before poking his head out of the bedroom. Out in the hallway the fragrance was even more tempting, and he barely hesitated before padding bare foot along the corridor and picking his way carefully down the stairs. His legs shook a little, and he could not deny that his body was still heavy and slow, but he still managed to make his way to the kitchen without incident.

He paused, leaning against the door-frame as he took in the scene. Ed was stirring something in a saucepan, gazing out of the window at the neat little garden beyond. His hair was still caught up in the ponytail, and he had chucked his coat and jacket over the nearest chair. For a split second Roy wondered if this was some kind of dream-within-a-dream. After all, Ed had left, and Roy had not got the impression that he would be coming back again, so why was he here?

On closer inspection, Roy realised that it had to be real. He could see Ed's reflection in the windowpane, and there was no mistaking the pensive frown on the younger man's face. If this were a dream he would be smiling, and probably also naked. Instead Ed looked like he had a lot on his mind, as if he had a decision to make and was torn between two possibilities. Roy could see the tension in the brace of his shoulders and the straight line of his spine, but it wasn't a bristling, angry posture. He looked almost – afraid?

Roy took a step forward, and Ed must have seen the movement out of the corner of his eye because he snapped back to reality, glancing over his shoulder with a ghost of a smile.

'I thought you'd gone back to Al?' Roy asked quietly, sinking into a chair and propping his elbows on the table. 'Not that I mind you being here. I just – wasn't expecting it.'

'I felt kind of bad for leaving you with no food.' Ed gestured to one of the cupboards. Its door was still open and, while its shelves weren't laden with supplies, there was enough there to keep him going for a few more days. 'You can't get better if you don't eat. Besides, I walked into Gracia and she wouldn't let me go again until she'd made you some chicken soup.'

'That's nice,' Roy managed, wishing he could think of something more articulate to say. 'Thank you.'

Ed shrugged as if it did not matter and began looking around for a bowl, grabbing one from the cupboard and ladling out a portion of soup. He put it in front of Roy and handed him a spoon before helping himself to some dinner. He sat at the end of the table to Roy's right, holding the hot dish in his automail hand as he ate with his usual gusto, as if he were worried someone would take it away from him if he didn't finish it quickly.

Roy drank the soup much more tentatively, watching Ed out of the corner of his eye. He seemed muted and withdrawn. He might just be puzzling over some research, but the more he watched Ed the more unlikely it seemed. He always tackled alchemy problems with endless reading and nothing, least of all an ill superior officer, could drag him away. If this was work-related then Ed would have been in the library searching for the answer, not sat at Roy's table glaring at the salt shaker as if it had caused him personal offence.

'Are you all right?' he asked, feigning nonchalance as his heart thudded in his chest. 'You look worried.'

Ed's head jerked up and he stared, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the hunter's sights. He had paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth, and Roy watched as Ed dropped it back in the bowl before getting to his feet and moving over to the sink. At first he did not answer, and Roy thought he was going to fob him off with some kind of excuse.

The dish chimed against the surface as Ed put it down before bracing his palms against the counter. He was looking out of the window again, but Roy was not sure if he was staring at the view or the reflections in the glass. As he watched, Ed squared his shoulders and straightened his back before turning around. The expression on his pale face bordered on dread, as if he did not want to speak, but couldn't bear to stay silent, either.

'You don't remember what you said, do you?'

A trickle of icy fear ran down Roy's spine, and he scrambled frantically through his hazy memory. Ed looked hurt and uneasy, and both of those emotions were rapidly turning into anger, pinching his brow in a frown and narrowing his eyes. God, what had he said? Something inappropriate? Something suggestive? No, that couldn't be it, because Ed would have punched him there and then, ill or not. What then? What could he possibly have let slip that Ed was still thinking about now, hours later?

Reluctantly, he shook his head, feeling something hard and painful catch in his chest as Ed closed his eyes in disbelief, turning his head away. Roy could feel the distance between them opening up again, yawning like a hole in the heart, and he tried desperately to think of something to stop the drift. He almost said he was sorry, almost stammered out some desperate, rambling apology, but something stopped him. Instead, quietly and almost afraid of the answer, he asked, 'What did I say?'

For the longest time, it did not look like Ed was going reply. He was glaring at the tiled floor, his jaw clenched and his arms crossed over his chest. Roy could see the tautness of the muscles in his flesh arm and could hear the metal of his automail fist tightening against his chest. He was angry, that much was obvious, but it was defensive, not aggressive.

Cautiously, like a man approaching a trapped animal, Roy got to his feet, closing the intervening space between them one step at a time. Finally, when he was close enough to reach out and tap Ed's shoulder and feel the muscles bunch beneath his fingertips, he asked again, 'Ed, what did I say?'

Ed drew in a deep, shaking breath, as if bracing himself for something truly painful. He was acting like he wished he had never asked in the first place, but, finally, he spoke. 'You said that -.' He hesitated and looked up, gold eyes glaring over the blush of angry embarrassment that stained his cheeks. 'Last night you looked right at me and told me I was beautiful.' Just for a second, a glimmer of fear shadowed Ed's face before he swallowed tightly and, more quietly now, asked, 'Did you mean it, or did you just think I was someone else?'

Roy stared, his mind whirling. It would be so easy to retreat behind a wall of cool disdain. One quick, belittling remark and Roy was sure that Ed would never ask again, but that was not what he wanted. He knew that Ed had more courage than he would ever possess. After all, he had faced potential embarrassment and rejection to ask. He could have just let it lie and pretend it never happened, but now Ed was looking at him as if the answer was important and all Roy could think was: How could I not mean it?

'Why does it matter?' The words were slipped past Roy's lips with no interference from his brain. It was a question from the heart. Despite the fact that he had known Ed for years, knew all of his actions and reactions, there was still a lingering fear that this was not as straightforward as it seemed. Ed might just be looking for some way to gain the upper hand in their professional relationship. He might simply be hoping for some ammunition to use at some point the future. Roy had been in too many relationships to trust so easily and readily, but then could he really compare Ed to any of his other lovers?

'It matters because it – it just does!' Ed spluttered, the blush darkening before he shook his head and his expression closed down completely. He uncrossed his arms and stamped closer, deliberately invading Roy's personal space as he snarled, 'Forget it. Like I should ever believe a fuckin' thing that comes out of your mouth.'

He shoved his way past, and Roy grabbed for him, fingers tightening around Ed's arm in a desperate attempt to stop him. If he left now, if he walked out of that door, then Roy knew he would never come back. This moment would be lost forever, and he would always regret not knowing where it could lead.

'I meant it,' he said, his voice rough and desperate as Ed's eyes narrowed distrustfully. 'I don't remember saying that you were beautiful last night, but this morning, when you were asleep, I said it again and I meant it.' He let his hand fall back to his side, shoulders slumping as Ed stood, still poised to leave at any moment. 'I'm sorry if you thought it was inappropriate or that I was manipulating you. I – that was never my intention.'

Ed was looking at him as if he was unsure whether or not to believe him, searching his face for any sign of a lie. Roy stayed motionless under the scrutiny, his eyes averted, waiting for Ed to turn and walk away. He hadn't expected him to take a step closer and reach out, brushing his left hand against the back of Roy's hand to get his attention.

When he looked up, Ed licked his lips, his voice cautious as he chose each word with care. 'You're not just – just saying that, are you? That's what you really think.'

'Is that really so hard to believe?' Roy asked, lifting a hand to cup Ed's jaw lightly, braced in case he lashed out and pushed him away. 'You're incredible, Edward.'

Ed ducked his head, and when he looked up again the pain in his eyes had been replaced with something lighter and brighter, something that reached into Roy's core and spread breathless warmth beneath his ribs. 'Thought you'd never look at me like that,' he mumbled, a crooked smile on his lips as if he still couldn't believe this wasn't Roy's idea of a horrible joke.

The whirling rush of Roy's mind had ground to a halt, forced into immobility as realisation bloomed. Ed wanted to believe him. He was not snapping and snarling and backing away from him with loathing in his eyes. Instead he stood toe-to-toe, close enough that Roy could smell the scent of leather and fresh air and Ed.

'You're always so angry,' he said, unable to keep the confusion out of his voice. 'Ever since you got Al's body back you've acted as if you were furious with me. I – I thought you had noticed that I couldn't stop looking at you like that and were trying to tell me to get lost.'

Ed shot him a brief look of disbelief before he reached out, his shaking hand skimming up Roy's chest to tangle in the open collar of his shirt before leaning up to press his lips against Roy's. It started off chaste and meek, so shy in comparison to Ed's usual brashness that Roy found himself savouring its innocence. After a moment he parted his lips, unable to silence the tight moan that caught in his throat as Ed dipped his tongue in, tasting and teasing as he held Roy close.

'Do I still seem angry to you?' Ed husked when Roy paused for breath.

He did not bother to reply as the last of his fears melted away in Ed's arms. Tangling his fingers in Ed's hair, Roy scraped his teeth gently along Ed's lower lip in answer. It was almost impossible to believe that this was real, that the hot, strong body under his palms was not some kind of delusion created by his lust-addled mind, but there was nothing false about the rough, happy sounds that Ed was making.

With a shaky little gasp, Ed broke away, his face flushed and his eyes darkened from gold to bronze. 'You're meant to be ill,' he murmured, sounding as if he was struggling to put the words together. 'Shouldn't you be in bed?'

Roy grinned for what felt like the first time in years. 'Was that an invitation?'

'Pervert,' Ed muttered, leaning in for another kiss. 'I'm not giving you sex that easy. You're going to have to earn it.'

 It had taken less than a week for Roy to “earn it”, and in the end he was not even sure who seduced who. It was as if the whole thing had been inevitable - as if, now they finally knew that their feelings were mutual, nothing in the world could keep them apart. All of it, every last thing, from the way they argued every day to the way they kissed made the most perfect, simple kind of sense.

The sheets whispered as Ed shifted his weight, turning his head to press a soft kiss to the inside of Roy's wrist, right over the pulse that thundered beneath pale skin. He looked at Roy from under his lashes, eyes deep, dark gold as his tongue flicked up his arm, tasting every inch of skin as Roy brushed his spare hand up Ed's side.

He arched his back in response, pressing himself closer with a tight, high sound of need as he rubbed against Roy's body like a cat. It was a miracle the sheets had not caught fire. Sparks of heat flared everywhere they touched, and each breath of air was molten between Roy's parched lips. He groaned aloud as Ed nipped at the soft flesh of his exposed throat, sucking softly at the skin and growling as Roy pressed himself up, clutching at Ed's hips and moaning as Ed held himself temptingly out of reach.

Ed grinned down at him wickedly, skin already glossed with sweat. His thighs were either side of Roy's hips and, unbearably slowly, he lowered himself onto Roy's waiting erection, hissing in pleasure as he sank down. His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward, holding Roy still with one hand so that he could not thrust. His lips were already tingling in anticipation of the kiss, but Ed paused a breath away, almost touching as he murmured, 'Hungry?'

'Only for you.'

Roy shifted one hand, tangling it in Ed's hair and pulling him down that last fractional distance. He swallowed Ed's moan of delight as he began to move his hips, trying to be careful as his blood hammered through his veins and his body sang along to Ed's tune, riding the swiftly building waves of his climax as Ed pulled back, gasping for breath and shaking from head to toe, tightening himself around Roy as he tipped his head back as if in prayer.

'God, Ed -'

'What?' Ed choked out, hands scrabbling for purchase as his body found its pace and moved in perfect rhythm with each thrust.

Roy grinned, curving his fingers around Ed's hips once more, holding him away for a split second until he whined and opened his eyes, looking down at Roy's face in confusion.

'You're beautiful.'

The End