Chapter Text
but do not ask the price i paid
i must live with my quiet rage
tame the ghosts in my head
that run wild and wish me dead
should you shake my ash to the wind
Lord, forget all of my sins
or let me die where i lie,
beneath the curse of my
LOVER'S EYES.
---
1. WEDDING.
---
"Would you care to tell me, Colonel Bastard, why the hell you are still in this goddamn office?"
-Which are the very first words out of Ed's mouth as soon as he steps foot inside said office, for the first time in nearly two years since the fated events of the Promised Day.
Roy smiles. It's almost comforting, the familiarity of it all. As if the fire and venom of Ed's hot temperament was a warm bath to sink oneself into after long, tiring days in a cold, unforgiving wilderness. So it only seems fair to lean his arms on his desk, cup his chin, and quip back with his trademark dry wit, in the way that Ed always hated in their long, storied history of arguments.
"I'm here because this is where I work, Fullmetal."
Ed groans loudly, but in a way that almost peters off into a sigh of relief at the end – perhaps he's also realized the nostalgia of this exchange. "Fuck off, you know what I mean. And quit using my old title- I'm retired now, remember?"
"Oh, I remember," Roy replies, still smiling serenely.
He can practically hear the scowl on Ed's face by now. "-You sure, old-timer? 'Cause you were too, last time I checked. So what gives?"
Roy purses his lips at the age insult, and tilts his head as he thinks of a reply. "Several things, I suppose. The newly-appointed Fuhrer and his councilmen need my input on how to go about rebuilding our leadership, since we’re setting the groundwork for a future democracy; they also needed advice on how best to contain and dispose of all the volatile Alchemical materials that were found underneath Central and the various Laboratories. And, of course, the High Court needs a good number of my testimonies for all the legal mess, seeing as I lead the coup to overthrow the previous government body, broke a murder suspect out of prison to smuggle her to Xing, and various other dubiously-legal activities-"
Ed groans again, more loudly, to cut him off. "-Alright, alright, I get it. You've been busy. So have I. That's not what I'm asking."
Roy perks up at that, a little caught off-guard. Ed releases a long, harsh breath through his nose.
"I mean- why are you still here when you're fucking blind?"
Roy blinks his useless eyes, a bit shaken – but it’s true. Despite the familiarity of everything else in their conversation, Roy cannot actually see Edward anymore. Or much of anything, thanks to the pitch-blackness that is now his view of the world forevermore after the events of the Promised Day. Only tactile memory and sharpened hearing have been clueing him in on Edward’s current attitude and where he is within the room – which, from the relative distance of the sound of his voice and shifting clothes, Roy can tell he’s standing too close to the front of his desk, as usual.
Riza, who he knows to be standing somewhere to his left by the filing cabinets, clears her throat loudly as a subtle warning.
This gives Edward pause, but not for long. "Sorry, I just- I don’t get it. You can’t see anymore. How fucked does this country have to be to make a blind man keep working for them?"
Roy sighs, withdrawing his arms to sit back in his chair. "Like I said – my services are still needed here. And it was my choice to begin with anyway. No one is making me do anything.”
He hears Ed draw in a sharp breath, preparing to spit in anger. “Why the f-”
Roy cuts him off before he can begin his tirade. “Because, Edward, I still have every intention of reforming this country for the better, whether directly or indirectly. It has not been easy, and still won't be, especially now, but I knew what I was getting into. So did Grumman.”
Ed takes another breath, so Roy adds, “And say what you want about that man, but you cannot deny that the fact he’s willing to work with me like this speaks volumes of him.”
Ed, finally giving up on trying to protest this, releases a long, withering sigh. He shifts for a few moments, probably stuffing his hands in his pockets, as he’s wont to do when frustrated.
Eventually, he speaks again. "But Marcoh – he had the last Stone with him. The nurses told me he was there with you, in the hospital. You could have used that. I mean, I would've hated your guts for it, but I wouldn't have put it past you-"
"-I had no business taking such an option and he and I both knew that," Roy cuts in, his voice dark and distant in his own head. "That Stone was made from Ishvalan souls – souls that are better served in the rebuilding of their homeland, not for healing the man who slaughtered their brethren. I didn't deserve such a thing, much less Marcoh's pity."
There is a small eternity of silence then, and it weighs heavily somewhere in Roy’s chest. He finds himself bowing his head, relinquishing his hands to his lap to interlace his gloved fingers.
Eventually, Ed chuckles softly. “...I guess that didn’t apply to Lieutenant Havoc, huh?”
Roy chuckles a little. “...No, no… Havoc was never deployed there. And his injury was mostly due to my own lack of foresight to begin with, so, I felt it was only fair.”
Ed shifts like he’s shaking his head, and sighs again. “Still blaming yourself...” he says quietly, so much so that he was probably just musing to himself and Roy’s heightened sense of hearing happened to pick it up.
Before he can ask anything about it, Ed says more loudly, “Fine, fine. I get it. Just answer me this, Bastard – how are you doing any of your damn paperwork?"
Roy straightens, welcoming the return to their usual banter. “Hah- that is a process now, I'll admit. It’s taken some trial-and-error and shifting things around the office, but I think we have a good thing going now.”
Ed huffs incredulously. “Really.”
Roy continues. “Essentially, my documents are translated into a language of bumps I can ‘read’ with my fingers. And before you ask, yes, we already tried having the Lieutenant reading documents aloud to me, but that, er- didn’t work.”
“It was exceedingly boring and almost made me lose my voice,” Riza clarifies, in her usual deadpan fashion when she’s hiding a smile.
Ed snorts a little. “I can imagine. How do you write stuff, then?”
“That, we do use oration for,” Roy says. “I simply speak the words I want written to the Lieutenant, and she takes them down with a typewriter.”
“Which is still boring,” Riza adds. Roy rolls his eyes in her general direction.
Ed chuckles, not quite able to contain his laughter. "And signatures?" he adds, muffled by what sounds like a hand over his mouth.
"I still do those by hand,” Roy replies. “I just need a ruler to keep my hand straight.”
"Ah. Interesting," Ed says, calmer now and attempting to sound satisfied. Attempting, because Roy can still hear uncertainty in his tone, a rarity to notice even when he could see him.
Roy decides to key in on this, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward on his desk. "You seem... unsatisfied about all this, Fullmetal. Concerned, even. Don't tell me you're actually worried over my general well-being?"
Ed startles, making a strangled noise in his throat. "I- I don't- fuck off, I am not! I’m just- I was just asking ‘cause we used to work together and all! I could give less of a shit about you!”
Roy can’t help chuckling at his thinly-veiled desperation, and he can even hear the tell-tale hitching of Riza's breathing somewhere at his left, which means she is trying vainly to suppress her laughter.
This, of course, just makes Ed angrier. "Shut up, bastard! Jeeze! See if I bother visiting you anymore if you're just gonna laugh at me!"
“Alright, alright, Ed, my apologies.” Roy says, calming down. It would, admittedly, be a shame if he ended up angering Ed to the point of never wanting to speak to him again. “Now, was there something else you came here to berate me for?”
“Fuckin’- Oh wait, yeah, there was actually, with all this talk of paperwork-”
There's the whispering sound of paper slapping onto the wood of Roy’s desk, which is unmistakably Ed roughly depositing a manila folder of documents upon Roy's desk. This is also amusingly nostalgic.
"-There's the last of my shit for the Justices,” Ed was saying. “And they'd better be happy with it, 'cause with everything else they've squeezed out of me, they may as well publish it all as my damn biography. Sorry for all the work, Lieutenant."
Riza sighs with resignation as she steps over to retrieve it. "It's nothing I'm not already used to. Thank you, Edward."
Ed grunts to acknowledge her as Roy sighs lightly. “Don’t worry, Fullmetal, I’m sure it really is the last they need from you. You should count your blessings – they’re far from finished with me and my squadron for the foreseeable future.”
Riza hums in agreement.
“Yeah, figures,” Ed growls. “I don’t envy you guys. Still fuckin’ annoying, though.”
“Indeed,” Roy laments, turning in his chair to face Riza’s direction. “Speaking of, Lieutenant, is it about time now?”
“Yes sir,” she confirms. “It’s about fifteen minutes to one o’ clock now. We should get going soon.”
Roy nods and retrieves his cane from its place by his desk. As he rises to his feet, Ed makes a surprised sound. “Wh- wait, are you guys leaving?”
“I’m afraid so,” Roy says, with Riza taking her place by his side. “We’re scheduled to attend another court hearing in an hour. It’s for one of those ‘dubiously legal activities’ I mentioned earlier.”
“Oh,” Ed says, the word escaping him like air from a deflating balloon. “Um. Okay. They really are still hounding you guys, huh?”
“It’s what we expected,” Riza says plainly. “We were always prepared for it.”
Roy doesn’t need eyes to share a look with her, familiar with the somber promise they took together (and with Maes, rest his soul) so many years ago in the blood and sands of Ishval.
“If it eases you, your interruption was actually quite welcome,” he adds, turning towards what he hopes is Ed’s direction. “We didn’t have much to do besides mindless paperwork until then.”
“-Or sitting around doing nothing, in his case,” Riza adds. Now that she’s standing next to him, Roy takes the opportunity to gently elbow her in the side for her relentless cheek. She just chuckles in response.
Edward, however, is unusually quiet for some reason. “Oh. Uh. I didn’t know,” he says eventually. “I guess I’ll leave you guys to it, then.” He shifts, and now his voice sounds more distant, closer to the door of the office, and suddenly Roy feels a pang of regret, maybe panic.
“Y- you’re welcome to visit any time,” he says quickly as he and Riza follow him there. “Our doors are always open, you know.”
“I know,” Ed says as they pass through the doorway. “It’s just, uh- I might be busy for a while. So, I dunno.” His voice takes on a hollow quality now, and Roy can’t tell if it’s from his tone or the acoustics of the hallway outside his office.
“You could write,” Roy replies. “We have an alchemist solely dedicated to the process of translating my documents to Braille, it’s almost instantaneous. And my phone line is always open-”
“Yeah, I know,” Ed cuts in, “I’ll keep in touch. Jeeze, Bastard, now look who’s worrying too much.”
“I am not,” Roy protests, ignoring the flush of heat going through him. “I am simply reminding you of the methods of contacting me. And I’m pleased that you admit that my assumption earlier was correct-”
“Oh, fuck off-”
“And we really should be off now, sirs,” Riza interrupts them both, who had been gently poking Roy in the back during this conversation and has now graduated to hooking their elbows together to tug him away.
Roy catches himself before he stumbles against her in surprise. “Ah- yes, of course. Good day, Fullmetal,” he says hurriedly over his shoulder. He thinks he hears a grunt of acknowledgment from Edward's direction and definitely hears his footsteps as he walks away, but something in his brain can’t let go of the idea that he did not part ways with Edward properly enough and somehow offended him.
This bothers him for minutes, then hours, then the entire rest of his day. It crawls up from the back of his mind during lulls in the court hearing, the slow moments of his work day, and especially deep into the evening as he lay in bed, when the lack of stimuli to his senses combined with his brain’s retreads through the day’s events, leaving him a helpless victim to his own anxieties.
But he is not worrying too much, he assures himself – he is simply being true to the rules of gentlemanly etiquette he was raised on, nothing more. He just needs to manage his time a bit better next time, so he doesn’t risk another situation like this again.
–
Unfortunately, that chance is a long time coming.
At first Roy feared that Ed would never take up his offers to stay in contact, and there was something depressing about that – they did share some colorful adventures together, after all – but that fear was eventually eased when a Braille letter was placed upon his desk several weeks later.
It was addressed from Edward, and started off with an apology for the lateness of his reply. Apparently he is no longer in Resembool, or anywhere within Amestris – he is now at his first stop on a trip to Creta and the other western countries, intent on conducting Alchemy research to discover whatever alternatives they had, and how those could be implemented into Amestrian Alchemy to start the process of de-militarizing their methods and bring back some semblance of morality – especially on the subject of chimerism.
But there is also a more surprising and dramatic development:
I finally proposed to Winry! Yeah! Take that, Colonel Bastard! Now you and the Lieutenant can stop teasing me over it!
It was crazy – I was sitting with her at the station, minutes away from the train arriving, just bummed as hell. I’d been thinking about it here and there for the past few years, but I could never get up the nerve to do anything. I still couldn’t, even at that station. But when the train arrived and I got ready to leave, I just figured, I was gonna be out of the country for a while, maybe even a year or two, away from her and everyone else. It was now or never, y’know? I had to say something, so… I did. And now we’re hitched! At least, we will be as soon as I get back.
Roy chuffs with amusement as he reads this. It seems a bit counterproductive that Ed would pop the question just before leaving his beloved behind for however long this research trip was going to last. But Roy chalks this up to the nerves of a young lover combined with Edward’s usual awkwardness. He would procrastinate his own marriage proposal to the very last moment in favor of throwing himself into his work.
The rest of Ed’s letter waxes on about his plans for the wedding and his future. But Roy can’t help but notice some oddness in his words – he speaks highly of his marriage, his devotion to Winry and making her happy. But there’s something unsure about his feelings - he keeps saying things like, ‘It should be great’. ‘It will be okay.’ ‘I hope she likes it.’ Is he unsure?
And it feels like something’s missing, when it comes to Ed’s personal feelings on the matter. Clearly, he is very happy, that is indisputable – he speaks much of how happy Winry makes him, and how he does for her, especially after their long, storied history of friendship. But nowhere in the letter can Roy find the simple words, ‘I love her.’
Roy has to shake himself free of these thoughts, eventually – why is he so concerned about this? It’s not his business to judge Edward and Winry’s choices, being the adults that they are now. Especially when Roy himself has very little experiences in the realm of love – real love, not his fake dates – and even fewer in the realm of marriage. Very little, and mostly negative…
Anyway. Roy reaches the end of Ed’s letter, in which he wishes Roy and his team good luck and well wishes, and to look forward to his wedding invitations upon his return.
...Because I’m definitely inviting your whole team to the reception. I want you to see me sweep my wife off her feet and kiss her brains out! Then you’ll never doubt my romantic prowess ever again, Bastard!
P.S. Sorry, I meant the metaphorical ‘see’ in that last paragraph. And the rest of the letter. I hope you weren’t offended or anything.
- Edward
Roy does feel a tad ruffled at this – not for the ‘seeing’ bit, as Ed already apologized for that, amusingly – this talk of ‘romantic prowess’ bothers him. Has he needled Ed about such a thing that often? Roy can remember leveling many colorful insults in Edward’s direction over the years, but doesn’t recall how many of them described his romantic life, or lack thereof. He was a bratty, self-centered teenager in all the years he worked under Roy, so that never felt very relevant, especially compared to his rude conduct or height complex.
Roy thinks. Hm… Maybe there were a few times where Roy dangled his ‘ladykilling bachelor’ persona in front of Ed’s face to keep him off-balance, and perhaps that came off as boastful and superior… either way, that wasn’t Roy’s intention. Perhaps Edward has developed a strange complex out of this as well?
Oh- now Roy feels guilty, a little. So he decides to clarify this misunderstanding in his reply as best he can:
“...I don’t recall ever doubting your romantic prowess in the past, as that wasn’t terribly relevant in the face of much more pressing issues back then, but if I did, allow me to formally apologize now. I am nothing but happy and proud for your accomplishment and wish for nothing but health and happiness in you and Ms. Rockbell’s future together.
Sincerely, Roy Mustang.”
Roy sighs lightly after finishing his recitation, and listens to Riza tapping away on the typewriter as she finishes transcribing his words. When she finishes, she asks suddenly, “Why so glum, sir?”
“Huh- what?”
“You sounded awfully sad towards the end, there.”
“Did I?” Roy says, blinking dumbly. “Strange. I wasn’t trying to be.”
“Oh,” Riza says. “Odd. I could swear there was a mournful note to your voice there.”
“If there was, it was purely by accident – Like I just said, I am nothing but happy for Edward and Winry.”
“Of course,” Riza says. “I suppose I’ve started hearing things that aren’t there to cope with all this boredom.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Roy says, groaning at her sarcasm.
–
If Riza was a fixture in Roy's life before, she was so much more than that now.
As usual, she is at his apartment’s entrance at eight o’ clock sharp, greeting him with a "Good morning, Colonel," and the distinct sound of moving fabric her uniform makes when she raises her arm to salute him. He responds with a salute of his own and a "Morning, Lieutenant," and then for the rest of the day she is at his side constantly, as his eyes, his awareness, the brightest of his guiding lights in this dark new world.
She was instrumental in helping him re-familiarize himself with every space he attends on his daily routine until he became confident enough to navigate them by himself, like his apartment and office. She still is, especially when traveling somewhere new, like today.
Today, it has been about a year since Edward left on his research trip, and Roy and Riza climb into their car and set off toward the grand reopening of the National Central Library’s First Branch, having finally finished its reconstruction after being destroyed in a fire several years ago. Publicly, it was reported as an act of arson by a terrorist – privately, Roy’s team knew it as an act of desperation by the Homonculi when they were trying to hide Marcoh’s secrets of Human Transmutation from the Elric brothers. So, essentially the same thing.
Grumman had personally extended an invitation for Roy to attend the opening ceremony and give an inspirational speech to the crowd. Ever since Roy’s decision to continue working within the military, Grumman has been building up Roy’s public image as a sort of walking embodiment of Amestrian fortitude: a young and powerful Alchemist, a decorated war hero, the leader of a massive coup, and now the survivor of a disabling injury, still serving his country with pride. It’s been working so far, from what Roy’s heard in the office and read in Braille versions of the newspapers – he’s even seen comparisons between himself and mythical creatures like the Phoenix, a symbol of fire and rebirth. In this way, it only feels right for him to be a prominent figure at the Library’s reopening – both he and the building have been rebuilt from their own ashes, in a sense.
In Roy’s opinion, the comparison starts and ends with the Library, as he certainly doesn’t feel ‘proud’ or ‘reborn’ most of the time – but he can’t argue with good publicity, self-loathing be damned.
“-Seems a little empty on the streets today,” Riza says casually, describing the city for Roy as she usually does during their drives. “Everyone must be at the ceremony.”
“Ah. How nice,” Roy says, attempting the same level of casualty.
There’s a pause, and as they stop at an intersection, Roy can imagine Riza giving him one of her sidelong glances. “Are you nervous?” she asks.
“Me? Of course not,” Roy says, puffing out his chest a little. “I’ve practiced enough. And besides, even if I do make an embarrassment of myself in front of hundreds of people, at least I can’t see them. I have nothing to worry about.”
“So you are nervous,” Riza says flatly.
“I- Ugh. Fine. A little.”
He hears Riza exhale in another of her almost-laughs. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, sir.”
Roy just huffs with annoyance.
Minutes later, Riza is describing Central Library as it comes into view, and she guides the car into a suitable parking space within the area reserved for officials like themselves. He can already hear the crowds of people gathering here, amplified as they step out of the car and make their way to the ceremony area.
Riza is at Roy’s side, a hand on his shoulder at all times. They'd settled on a system of touch to communicate what she saw and direct Roy appropriately. Shouting firing coordinates worked in combat alright, but they’d needed something much more subtle for casual contexts like this.
As they walk, Roy feels her hand apply pressure to his shoulder, favoring the left side. Turn left. He does so, and is rewarded moments later with the sound of a car driving by to his right, meaning he'd avoided walking out onto a quiet but still dangerous street. The concrete of the sidewalk beneath his shoes and cane is also reassuring.
As they walk on, she gives him further quiet commands – pressure on the right to turn right, pressure from the heel of her palm to stop, gently tipping her hand forward to continue walking.
As they approach the reconstructed library, the growing din of the crowd makes Riza's touches the perfect guide here, where spoken directions would be too hard to hear. Another benefit is that this also allows Roy to focus more on his poise, walking with pride and strength in the faces of his countrymen without fear of ridicule for his shortcomings, not being shouted commands at like a dog obeying its master.
No, Riza wasn't his master. She was simply... a friend. A much better friend than anything he could have ever hoped for.
When the crowd closes in to the point where a clear path is impossible, she simply hooks an arm under his and leads him on. Soon enough, they've climbed the steps to the front of the library and reached the podium where Roy’s speech would take place.
Grumman is already here, along with the Head Librarian and other staff, and they greet them warmly. Roy’s presence and a polite demand for silence are requested over the microphone, and as the crowd quiets, Roy is lead to the platform to take over.
Roy feels three of Riza’s fingers press into his shoulder in sequence. Three steps up. He nods at her, confirming, and she relinquishes her hand from him. He walks forward, shoulders back and chest out, extending the end of his cane until it taps against the first step of the platform’s stairs. Then he climbs – one, two, three steps – all without stumbling. Thank goodness.
Roy turns and approaches the podium, touching the corners of the easel and adjusting the microphone to his liking. He feels for his cue cards in his pockets, written in Braille, and sets them in the easel as he listens to the distant shifting and murmurs of the crowd before him.
Hm. He’d said earlier that his inability to see this crowd would lessen his nervousness, but a fluttering in his stomach was proving otherwise. Perhaps it’s only fair that even blindness can't curb pre-speech jitters.
Roy slowly breathes out the butterflies in his belly, and begins to speak. "My fellow Amestrians, welcome. Thank you for coming..."
–
Roy’s speech is appropriately inspirational, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd at its conclusion. After some more words from the Head Librarian and Fuhrer Grumman, there is much ado about the cutting of a large ribbon stretched before the Library’s entrance, and the crowd cheers again as it is sliced in two by an oversized pair of scissors. Riza relays all of this to Roy verbally while commenting on the gaudiness of it all, and knowing the Brass’s propensity for tackiness lately, he thinks he can safely trust her judgment.
Roy and Riza make more talk, big and small, with Grumman and the Library’s staff in a side-area as the crowds make their way inside to admire the building’s newly-refurbished interior, and Roy endures several minutes of posing awkwardly and smiling at vague spaces in front of him as members of the Press take their pictures to immortalize the occasion.
Photographs are definitely a new point of discomfort for Roy. But at least they’re over with quickly enough, and now he and Riza are making their way back to their car, the space around the Library now far less crowded.
Suddenly, he hears a familiar voice somewhere behind him - “Hey! Colonel-Bastard!”
He hardly needs Riza’s prompting to turn in the voice’s direction, or a reminder on who this familiar person is.
"Edward?” he asks, surprised and a little delighted that he is here.
“Who else? Of course it’s me,” Edward says, his footsteps falling into a stop before him, and he greets Riza with a more-polite “Hello, Lieutenant,” before turning back to him.
“Nice speech you did there, Colonel. Nice and boring. I almost fell asleep on my feet out here! But it is nice to see the First Branch up and running again.”
He was here in the crowd the whole time? Roy feels a flutter in his gut again, though he’s not sure why, so far out from when he did his speech, now nearly an hour ago.
“So it is,” he says, ignoring this. “I’ve had to keep up a certain public image at Grumman’s recommendation, so, apologies if you found it overly-saccharine.”
He hears Ed chuff with amusement. “Never said it was bad. Just boring. Anyway, have either of you seen Sheska around? She’s the real star of the show here.”
“She’s not here, I’m afraid,” Riza pipes up at Roy’s side. “Unfortunately, her work isn’t completely done yet, just enough to reopen the First Branch to a limited capacity. I’ve heard she was extended the appropriate rewards and an invitation to this ceremony, but apparently she refused. Probably too shy for crowds.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Ed says. “I was hoping to catch up with her here, but that’s fine. I’ll just catch her after work.”
“Is that all you came back to Central for, unseen and unannounced?” Roy asks, deciding to needle his former subordinate while he was here, because why not, really. “You didn’t even call, and your last letter was nearly a month ago and made no mention of you returning this soon.”
To Roy’s amusement, Edward groans loudly. “Jeeze, Colonel, gimme a break, I just wanted to catch up with my old friends on my way back home. And more importantly, to give you guys these-”
There’s a shifting from Edward's direction and Riza steps forward, and then she is pressing a folded card into Roy’s hands. “Are these-”
“Yup! Wedding invitations! I think I made enough for you and your whole squadron, but I made extras just in case,” Ed says. “The print shop I went to couldn’t print in Braille, by the way, sorry about that.”
Roy runs his fingers over the card he holds, but sure enough, he feels no bumps or texture besides the paper stock its made from. Which is fine, he assures himself, even as his stomach drops a little. He needs not read any words to gather the card’s ultimate meaning – Edward and Winry are getting married, and Roy and his squadron are invited to attend. This is a happy occasion. He should be happy.
“I wanted to ask you guys something else too,” Ed was saying now.
“Hm?” Roy raises his chin in Ed’s direction as best as he can guess.
“There’s this nice little cafe down the block here, looks like it’s brand new – or it’s new since I was here. I was just thinking, maybe...” Ed shifts, clearing his throat as if nervous – when he starts again, he’s directing his speech more to Roy’s side, where Riza is standing. “I was wondering if I could invite the Colonel to lunch there, just to check it out, y’know. But if you have plans or already ate something, I totally understand-”
“It’s no trouble,” says Riza, cutting into his backpedaling. “We were planning to have our lunch back at Headquarters, but yours is a better idea, if you agree, sir?”
Roy has to blink uselessly a few times before he can respond, caught wondering about Ed’s sudden shyness, and Riza’s inexplicable boldness at this surprising invitation. Lunch at a new cafe? Right after an unannounced return from his research trip and handing out wedding invitations? Who is this man? If Roy hadn’t watched them crumble to dust with his own eyes (when they were functioning), he would think that homonculus Envy had returned and taken Edward’s place, with how strange he’s acting now.
Perhaps Ed really has grown up.
Roy makes his head stop spinning and composes himself, saying, “I, uh- Yes, I agree, Lieutenant. Lunch would be nice, if you don’t mind being my eyes for a little while, Edward.”
“Yeah sure, no problem,” Ed says, his voice lightening with a considerable amount of happiness, and Roy suddenly feels a warm hand on his arm, gently tugging him forward.
“Oh- we have a system,” Riza starts, but Roy is already being pulled away and in step alongside Edward, leading him with a hand on his wrist.
“Don’t need it!” Ed calls back. “You can pick him up back here in an hour. Thanks, Lieutenant!”
Roy very nearly stumbles, between trying to wave Riza goodbye, keeping a hold of his cane, and not being sent to the ground from Ed’s enthusiasm pulling him down the sidewalk. He can hear her snorting softly behind him as they leave, and he can feel his ears burn with shame.
He continues to struggle as Ed leads them down the street and across an intersection, feeling too much like a little child being pulled along by their mother, as if his blindness wasn’t humiliating enough for him in a daily basis. When he can’t stand another minute of this (and senses that they are safely in the middle of a sidewalk), he plants his feet and leans against Ed’s pull.
When Ed jerks to a stop and makes a protesting sound, he tells him, "Edward, please, I'm not a child. This is ridiculous."
Ed groans at him. "Ugh- C'mon man, I'm trying to help you. Besides, this is faster."
"You- well you're not helping. This only makes me feel worse. It's like-" Roy catches himself mid-sentence. He's already compared this to being lead like a child, but the only other thing coming to mind is... couples, holding hands. And that definitely doesn't apply here, his face burning even hotter.
He hears Ed groan again. "Ugh- What, you want me to carry you around like a princess or something? 'Cause I could, but not for long. You're probably fuckin' heavy."
Normally Roy would chuckle at that colorful image, but he's not in the mood right now. He grunts, trying and failing to ignore the deeply-flustered feeling growing inside him. "No, no, just- I have a cane for a reason. I can move around with it just fine." He gestures with it for emphasis.
Ed sighs dramatically, but relinquishes Roy's arm. "Fine, fine... But if you start walking into oncoming traffic, I'm grabbin' you, no warnings."
"Fair enough," Roy says, a little relieved.
–
They arrived at the restaurant without any further issue, with Roy following Ed’s lead by listening to his footsteps just ahead and to his side, and to his vocal affirmations as they approached the cafe itself. The only thing that bothers him is the leftover warmth of Ed’s hand lingering on his bare wrist, for some reason, but that is easy to ignore.
As they are urged inside, Ed does his best to describe the cafe’s interior: “It’s really woody? Or earthy, whatever you call it, with all the browns and greens and fake-wood furniture. Its not very big, so it’s cozy, and the windows take up almost the whole outer wall. There’s a lot of little knick-knacks and stuff on the walls, really chintzy. And it smells like coffee everywhere, I like it already.”
Roy hardly needed a description for the smell, his olfactory senses working just fine, but he hasn’t the heart to interrupt Ed’s little rambles. It’s always pleasant to hear him be passionate about something.
After waiting briefly in the lobby, they speak with a hostess and are directed to a booth seat by one of the large wall-windows, as Ed describes it, and he assists him in reading the menu and ordering their food and drinks.
They talk idly as they wait for their orders. “I saw Madame Christmas’ new place on my way here,” Ed starts. “A shame about the old one, but I’m glad she’s starting over just fine.”
“That place was always a liability, and we all knew it,” Roy says plainly. “It was just a matter of time before we had to, well- say goodbye to it.”
“Still,” Ed says, and it sounds like he’s shaking his head. There’s a pause and an intake of breath, but before he can say whatever he wanted to say, a waiter comes by with their drinks, and the topic is forgotten.
As he appreciates the taste of his chocolate-hazelnut latte, Roy hears Ed pipe up again.
“Anyway, speaking of old places- I wanted to ask you more about your past.”
After setting down his drink, Roy chuffs with amusement. “You should know everything about my past by now, Edward.”
Ed groans again, and Roy can imagine him rolling his eyes at him as he usually does. "Sure, from Hawkeye. But I wanna know your side of the story. Straight from the horse’s mouth, as they say back home.”
Roy frowns and thinks about this – about the past – and all the implications therein. Where would he begin? What could he skip over? How much does Edward already know, exactly? The most prominent memories involve blood and war, death and promises. Something constricts in his chest just at the entertainment of such thoughts.
“-Um,” Ed says suddenly, “Okay, skipping all the wars and stuff. Tell me, uh- tell me what it was like being raised in a bar-and-brothel as a kid. Now that must have been interesting.”
Roy lightens at this – it seems Ed noticed his tension and changed tact appropriately. He must have improved his skills in interpersonal interaction during his research trip. Probably out of necessity, to more positively interact with foreign scientists and diplomats, but it’s appreciated nonetheless.
Roy takes another sip of his latte, smiling a little. "Oh, it certainly was..."
–
The lunch was pleasant, even more than Roy had anticipated. Sharing stories of his childhood is surprisingly easy with Edward, especially when Ed opens up about his own, growing up with Alphonse, Winry, and his mother when she was alive. There’s a commonality here, in the bittersweet acknowledgment of their pasts, the innocence they both lost far too early, but still finding some happiness in recounting the memories.
The food and drink was also pleasant, home-made and quite tasty, and after eating their fill and paying the tab (via Edward, who insisted on it and was too stubborn to hear otherwise), they made their way out of the cafe and back into the streets.
Ed started leading Roy by the wrist again, but this time, Roy can’t quite find it in himself to protest it. To his shame, he finds himself tolerating it this time – which he decides to blame on the warm food and drink in his belly, no doubt making him more pliant than usual. And Edward Elric does what he wants, after all, so Roy simply lets him, sweeping out his cane occasionally to predict the terrain or any blockades in his immediate path.
He’s also ashamed to feel a familiar sting of panic when Ed bids him farewell, back at their agreed-upon drop-off point in front of Central Library. It’s just like last year, that nagging feeling that it’s too soon, too rude like this-
“My rental car is over in the public parking spaces, so I’ll leave you here for Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Ed was saying.
Roy blinks at him. “You- Wait, a rental car-?”
“Yes, I can drive now, and I didn’t take you in it because it was easier to walk to that cafe because of all the traffic. Try to keep up, old-timer.” Ed laughs, loud and bright, his insult having no real bite, for once. Something about this, the sound of Ed’s words and laughter, knocks the wind from Roy’s lungs, a little. The suddenness of it all must have caught him off-guard.
As usual, Roy ignores this and bids Ed farewell, listening to his heavy footfalls as they walk away down the sidewalk. As he does, Roy finds himself grasping his own hands without thinking – Ed’s warmth still lingers on his wrist.
–
There’s an amused quirk to Riza’s voice when she picks him up several minutes later. “Well, someone looks quite pleased with himself.”
This stops Roy half-way through climbing into the passenger seat. “Wh- Huh?”
“You’re smiling. And you look a little flushed.”
“I- I am not,” Roy says cautiously, forcing his traitorous face into a carefully blank expression. Apparently it’d started lifting into a smile without his knowing as he stood alone on the sidewalk, daydreaming about nothing in particular, thank you very much.
“And I’m sure the flush is from the weather warming up. I was unwise in bringing my heavy coat this morning.” And this is not a lie. They’re in the middle of March and in the throes of an unusual cold snap, so surely, this is not a lie! He hasn’t felt the cold for hours.
Riza makes that ‘suppressing-laughter’ noise in her throat again, but she doesn’t argue with him. But the way she says, “As you say, sir,” is maddeningly cheeky for a reason Roy can’t pinpoint, so he can only stew in annoyance as he settles into his seat for the drive back to Headquarters.
–
Somehow, it’s been two months – Edward went back to Resembool, did the necessary preparations, and the assigned date of his wedding has come upon Roy and his squadron.
They all talk and laugh lightly here and there along their journey, from their cars, to the station, and all along the train ride to Resembool. But there's a certain subject of conversation that everyone is carefully avoiding.
Namely, that this is the first time in many years they've all attended the wedding of a friend and coworker of theirs - and they all know who, and why.
Even Roy can see how the memory simmers gently beneath the surface, in the awkward pauses between their conversations, in their pointed coughs and distracting mannerisms.
For Roy himself, it feels more like the stage where the water's hissing and steaming from the terrible amount of heat building in it, but it refuses to break out into a proper boil, and the heat source isn't quite hot enough for it to reach that stage anytime soon.
...Hm. That's a terribly long-winded analogy just to say that he's kind of miserable, isn't it? Bah... Alchemists and their insistence on over-complicating everything.
–
It's a fairly small service, attended only by Ed and Winry's friends and family, but it's as warm and exciting as any wedding, Roy thinks. But perhaps he's not the best judge of that, as he's really only been to one other wedding before this.
...And truth be told, it was more bittersweet than anything.
Yes, Roy can't help feeling a wave of déjà vu as he sits among the attendants while Pinako reads off the traditional marriage oaths. Well, at least he can't see the ceremony happening this time.
...No, that just makes him feel worse. Come on- He needs to be happy for Edward right now. Damn him and his bleeding heart.
But despite his best efforts, Roy's smile still feels like a mask, and his laughter rings hollow in the yawning emptiness growing inside him. He only feels something resembling a real emotion as the exchange of vows draws to a close.
"-and do you, Edward Elric, take Winry Rockbell as your lawfully wedded wife?"
Distantly, Edward clears his throat and says, loud and clear, "I do."
"Then you may kiss."
There's a swell of noise as everyone stands to applause. Roy follows the motion, robotically clapping to the darkness before him. He feels salt filling his throat, a prickling in the back of his blind eyes.
It doesn't surprise him. Everyone cries at weddings, after all.
--
Hours later, Roy feels a little better as he chats with the newlyweds inside the Rockbell home, having grown tired of mingling with everyone outside. He always sort of liked this house – always smelling of this strange mix of wood and bread and machine oil. It's... well, homely.
He's set his cane aside to lean against the kitchen table, talking with Ed and Winry about the various shenanigans that occurred in the afterparty, thanks to their more enthusiastic friends and family members.
Winry's giggling. "-Has Breda always been so terrified of dogs? Den wouldn't hurt a fly, and he acts like she's some wild animal!"
Roy chuckles. "Has as far as I've known him."
Ed chimes in. "I kinda feel bad for him, honestly. Maybe a dog attacked him when he was a little kid, or something."
"Probably," Roy muses. "Hawkeye isn't much help there."
Winry's giggling devolves into soft snorting. "God, yeah- Why does she keep sneaking Hayate into the office? She have a grudge or something?"
Roy smiles with amusement, knowing his First Lieutenant. "No, no... she just has an odd sense of humor. Always has."
Winry bursts into unrestrained laughter. "Hah! I think I like her."
Ed's snorting too, now. "Hey- Hope it's not more than me, your husband."
There's a shifting as Winry playfully shoves him. "Shut up, it's not like that!"
"Suuure, Win."
"You're terrible!" But she's laughing, and so is Ed, and it's as bright and lovely as Roy imagines it must be when you finally get to marry your best friend. Ah, if only...
...If only he could see them.
The conversation winds down after that, devolving into small talk on how everyone plans to crash after the celebrations are over.
Winry gives a loud yawn, telegraphing her exhaustion."Man, I'm tired. Not like, physically tired, just drained, y'know?"
"Yeah, yeah," Ed says. "You can head upstairs if you want, I'll keep Mustang company."
Winry stifles another giggle. "Okay- but if you guys start fighting again, I'm coming back down."
Roy laughs dryly. "Oh, don't worry about that- there's not much I can do now anyway," he says, gesturing at his now-useless eyes.
There's a slight pause, and he briefly wonders if he was too blunt there.
Ed cuts in before the silence can settle. "Yeah yeah, we'll behave ourselves. Now go rest, dummy."
"Fiiiine. See you later, Colonel." She shifts, probably giving Roy a polite bow, before walking away and out of the kitchen. He listens to her light footfalls as she heads down the hall and up the stairs towards her room.
"Sorry about that," he says quietly, still stinging with guilt.
"You're fine," Ed says lightly. "...But, between you and me, I think we could still go toe-to-toe if we tried."
Roy chuckles again. "Hah- I severely doubt that, Fullmetal. Without the Lieutenant's help, it's far too much of a risk with my flames."
"Well... You could... like..." Ed makes various strained sounds as he tries to think of a response. But finally, he relents.
"...Yeah, I guess not," he says, defeated.
"Mm." Roy can't think of anything either. The silence falls unabated now, and his mind wanders.
He's thinking about the flashing of cameras he's heard on and off all day. Nearly everyone's been taking pictures to remember this day... Many will have Roy himself in them. But unlike the Library, it’s stinging at him a lot more than usual.
It's a kind of cruel irony for him, he realizes. Everyone else would remember what he looked like today: the suit he wore, his haircut, his face... But all Roy would ever remember were the hands at his waist, the happy voices saying "cheese!", the fake smiles he's worn. Even the camera flashes were merely brief spots of light grey in his vision.
He feels mildly sick, now. Perhaps driven to a strange mood from this nausea, Roy decides to bring up the subject, if only to break the awkward silence. "I imagine you're keeping all the pictures everyone took today?"
Ed's voice tightens a little. "Oh- Yeah, of course."
"That's good. A shame I won't get to see them."
A soft sigh from Ed doesn't go unnoticed. "...Yeah, I know. Um- sorry, by the way. I know we took one together."
Roy hums sadly. Ed's warmth at his side had been particularly bittersweet for him.
"It's fine," he says. It's not fine, really, but it's all he can say in response.
Another pause. Ed tries to sound lighter when he speaks up again. "Hey, uh- It's just pictures, y'know? Just stuff to remember this day by. We don't always need to look at things for that."
"...I suppose," Roy says evenly. That didn't discount the fact that people remember things mostly by looking at them.
Ed continues. "Like uh... I'll remember how loud everyone was cheering for me when I chugged all that punch a while ago. How it tasted, how it went up into my nose... Haha. That was gross. I'll definitely remember that every time we make fruit punch from now on, just from the smell."
Roy chuckles lightly at the memory, imagining it again. The sounds of it were amusing enough when it happened.
" -And man, I had to piss so hard afterwards. I was in the bathroom for like, ten minutes straight back there, you missed it."
Roy shakes his head, but he's snorting from suppressing his laughter. "No, I didn't. I don't need to know all of your bathroom rituals, Edward."
Now Ed was suppressing giggles. "Yeah yeah, whatever. I'll probably remember that for a while too, whenever I gotta piss real bad-"
"Edward please. You're disgusting," Roy says, withering with barely-contained laughter by now.
Ed was laughing too. "At least you're smiling now, bastard," he chokes out between bouts of giggles.
After they calm down, Roy lets out a long sigh. The mood feels lighter, but not by much.
"Ah... I'm just, tired I suppose," he says, almost wistfully.
"Yeah, me too. It's been a long day for all of us," Ed says.
"...Well that too but... you know." Roy lifts an arm, splays out a hand he can't see in front of his face. "I mean... All of this. Everything."
His hand hangs there uselessly, lost in the dark like he is. He brings it to touch his own face, as if making sure it was still there.
Ed makes a sad sound. "Mm..."
Roy slides his hand up, rubs at his useless eyes. "It's like... drowning, a bit. Drowning in nothing. Nothing to push off of. No feedback." He chuckles as a thought crosses his mind. "Hah. I must sound like how your brother was."
"...Kinda, yeah," Ed says quietly.
Roy drops his hand to the table behind him again. "Mm. Even he had his sight, though, back then."
"Hey- C'mon man, cut it out. You're not helping yourself," Ed cuts in, suddenly more serious.
Roy almost, almost says, Whoever said I wanted to? But he decides, wisely, to stay tight-lipped. The last thing Edward needs on his wedding day is a sad, broken man waxing poetic about his incurable misery.
"...Sorry," he says quietly. It's both the least and the most he can say.
"Hey..." He hears Ed's footsteps approaching, then feels his hand pat his shoulder. "You're okay, Mustang. Believe me, if you can't believe yourself."
Roy closes his eyes for a moment, warming at Ed's touch, his words. Ah, if only he could allow himself to do that. Believing in Edward, wholeheartedly. But even if he could... How can Ed say that when he's like this now? Why waste his sympathy on the shadow of his former superior, when Ed finally has the luxury of a decent, normal life? Now that he has a healthy, loving partner who accepts him for who he is, accepted by society at large without-
Hm. No, no. Enough of that. Ed's warm touch is distracting him... And giving him an idea.
Gingerly, Roy raises a hand to touch the one on his shoulder. "...I suppose. But at least there's one thing I can do, if you don't mind," Roy says carefully.
Ed makes a confused sound, and flinches a little at Roy's touch. "Uh- huh?"
Roy's hand travels up and into Ed's sleeve slightly, feeling his wrist. "I can still... sort of see, with my hands. It's not the same, of course, but it's something."
He hears Ed swallow a little. "Oh... So you, uh- You wanna..."
"-If you don't mind, that is. It is a bit, ah- uncomfortable."
Ed makes another odd sound. "Uh...”
Roy feels the beginnings of a flush warming him. And a sting of fear, realizing Ed will very likely refuse him. Ed had always seemed uncomfortable about his body and personal space, and for very good reasons.
But something... something desperate inside Roy can't accept that. It makes him say, almost like a challenge, "I mean, you say you're an adult now, Fullmetal. I'd just like to see for myself. Make my own pictures, as it were."
He hears Ed let out a breath, then a dry laugh. "What, all these years and you still doubt me? Jeeze, Colonel. I thought you actually had faith in me by now."
Roy feels a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. He's missed this, the bantering. "Well I wasn't saying that, but you can think it if you want. I'm just curious, is all."
"Curious to feel me up, you mean? You're such a perv," Ed shoots back in his trademark fashion, though the context makes Roy flush a bit more than usual.
Roy laughs, not quite able to suppress it. "I- I'm not asking to feel your unmentionables Edward, good grief. Just your face, that's all."
Ed laughs too, in a similar fashion. But when he comes down from it he's quiet, making a thoughtful sound. "...Just the face, huh?"
"That's all."
Ed's quiet again. Then, finally, he huffs softly through his nose. "Hmph. Fine, then. Go ahead."
Despite the dismissive words, his tone makes him sound like he's smiling, and Roy can't help smiling back in response. Ah, Edward. So predictable sometimes.
Roy feels a bit giddy now, suddenly. He'll admit, his curiosity has been building for years. Anytime Ed's been nearby, he can't help focusing on how his voice has become lower and richer in tone, and no longer speaks to him from chest-level, now nearly as high as his own head.
Roy rises to step away from the table. Ed shifts away, stepping back a bit, causing Roy's hand on Ed's wrist to slip down to Ed's fingers as they move – he has a passing thought of holding it there, as though it would leave him... but he shakes it off, and lets the hand go. He doesn't need to hold Ed’s hand to know he's still there. And, of course, that would be awkward.
Roy can tell well enough from the sound of Ed's breathing in front of him, face to face now.
"...Okay," he mutters, as if psyching himself up. He's a bit nervous for some reason – no surprise though, it is a rather awkward situation. Gingerly he lifts his hands, brings them forward, until his fingertips make contact with Ed's suit jacket. He pats along lightly, sensing that he's landed on Ed's shoulders. He lifts his hands further, up and past where Ed's neck should be.
Now his fingers land on either side of Ed's head, near his ears. And what strikes him first is how much taller he is now. Roy's hands only reach slightly below his own face, so he estimates Ed's still shorter by a good few inches, but only just.
His heart thumps against his ribs – just for a moment.
...Ignoring that, Roy focuses on exploring Ed's new face, gently moving his fingers against Ed's skin.
His cheekbones and brow seem more defined, jutting out more than Roy remembers. And his eyebrows seem fuller than before. There's also some wrinkles now, mostly around his eyes. Roy hopes its just smile lines, but he knows better... Ed's been through a lot in his still-young life.
Ed's cheeks feel less round, but still full and healthy, flowing smoothly into his squared-off chin and strong jawline. And- Oh? There's a bit of fuzz coming in. But only just so. The very beginnings of an older man's facial hair, probably invisible to the eye because of the light color of Ed's hair.
Ed's nose seems the same, perhaps thicker in the bridge area- yes, much thicker. And slightly misshapen. He must have a suffered an injury or two, probably during that final battle on the Promised Day. Roy did hear an awful lot of punching going on.
Ed's mouth... seems average. Lips tend to be – ahem – sensitive, so Roy steers clear of them, only ghosting his thumbs over them once on accident. They press together in response, so he's safe in assuming that Ed's not comfortable with them being touched.
Overall, it's as Roy suspected – Ed's grown more into the features he saw him wear on the Promised Day, but doubtlessly they must be even stronger now. Part of him wishes he'd paid more attention back then, to better imagine them now.
Briefly, he wonders if Ed resembles more of his father, the late Hohenheim. Roy never did see the man, unfortunately, and had only hearsay from Alphonse to go off of. Ed probably wouldn't admit it, if asked.
...Strangely, Ed's face feels very warm now, growing more intense as Roy's moved along it. It's still there as he touches down to his throat, briefly feeling Ed's pulse fluttering under his fingers. Roy pauses, withdrawing his hands. "...Are you alright? Feels like you have a fever."
Ed stammers and clears his throat. "Uh- No, no, I'm fine."
"...Alright." Roy's unconvinced, but not enough to press him about it.
Then he feels Ed's head turning away, causing his long bangs to brush against one of Roy’s hands. Roy finds himself reaching for it, taking and rubbing some of the hair between his fingers.
"Ah... you've grown it out," he says absently.
"Y-yeah. I, uh. Should get a haircut soon," Ed responds.
Roy hums in response, and his hand follows the flow of hair to Ed's scalp, reaching back to his ponytail. He takes it, lets it gently flow through his fingers, feels how much longer, softer it is. He could call is smooth as silk, but there's some bulk and roughness to it. It's fitting, for Edward.
Roy also estimates that, untied, Ed's hair would flow effortlessly across his shoulders, covering them along with most of his chest. And with that striking gold color... not for the first or last time, he wishes he could see it. Roy withdraws his hands again.
"You don't use braids anymore, do you," he says, more a statement than a question.
Ed makes a strange sound, as if suppressing a cough. "No, no..."
"Ah, well. It does feel nicer."
" Thanks... I try." Ed's voice is quiet, almost bashful at this point, no doubt caused by the overwhelming discomfort of the situation. The tension in the air is palpable at this point. Roy knows he should stop, but...
...But, his hands linger near Ed's neck and shoulders now, and their warmth draws him in like magnets. His left hand settles at the junction of Ed's neck and clavicle, while his right hand cups the other shoulder. He pats lightly along them, feeling a noticeable thickness through Ed's suit. Roy swallows lightly, as he realizes he has to rectify his estimation about Ed's hair length now. His shoulders are... much wider than he'd imagined. His hair would flow along them effortlessly, but scarcely reach his chest.
...He tries, and fails, not to dwell on that image.
Roy forces his hands further downward, touching the lapels of Ed's suit jacket to distract himself. It's a fine, expensive-feeling material, much like Roy's own suit.
"What color is it? Hopefully not red, or something equally garish," Roy says, a bit weakly as he attempts to cut some of the tension here and distract his wandering mind.
He hears Ed cough out a forced laugh. "C'mon, Mustang. It's my wedding day, I'm not that bad. It's just plain ol' black."
Roy smiles at that, how he again sounds more like the bratty subordinate he's known for years. "...But you did ask for it, I imagine?"
Ed sighs in a way that confirms that yes, he did. "Winry shot me down. Said I'd look like a ringmaster or something."
Roy laughs at that, imagining Edward in the circus business. "Funny, I'd think you'd fit that image nicely."
Now Ed's laughing too, genuinely, his chest brushing against Roy's fingers through his suit as it rises and falls. "Hah! Fuck off, man. I'm no clown. It wouldn't even look like that. It'd have like, black lapels and accents and stuff. Maybe make the buttons look like tiny skulls. Would've been cool as hell."
Roy laughs less now, because the feel of Ed's chest has distracted him. It's, ah- also thicker than he was expecting. And Ed's jacket isn't button-closed either, he realizes, as his hands once again become drawn in toward Ed's body heat. He finds himself touching lightly at Ed's undershirt, and indeed, his trunk is much thicker than Roy remembered it being. Also more muscular, from the size of his pectorals and the hardness of his belly.
Roy finds himself fighting an urge to squeeze. My, my... he really has grown.
...And at this point Ed's laughing had long since faded, his breathing a bit ragged now, hitching softly a few times as he's gone along. And by now, Roy can feel his ears burning, his heart thumping in his ears. This... This is getting out of hand, now.
But even as anxiety blooms and takes root in his chest, his hands keep moving. They touch down Ed's waist, drift down near his hips, catching on his belt. A hand slips around, following it, aiming for the small of Ed's back, and Roy feels himself shifting his weight forward ever so slightly-
Oh. He- he should stop now. Yes. Right now.
Desperately, Roy tenses every muscle in his body until they stop moving, jerking his hands away from Ed's torso. They push against the inside of Ed's suit jacket and freeze there, uncertain. A quiet panic takes hold as he hangs there, uselessly.
...After far too many loud, fearful heartbeats, he finally hears Ed give a very small, very uncomfortable chuckle. Then Ed's hands grasp his own, gently pushing them away as he takes a few steps back. "Hah... H-hey now... I'm uh, I'm a married man now, Mustang."
Roy swallows hard, his throat much drier than he remembered it being. He quickly straightens himself, withdrawing his arms and crossing them behind his back, grasping his hands tightly behind him to keep them in check. There's a slightly clammy texture to them now.
Roy attempts to clear his throat, and is unsuccessful. "S-so you are. You... I- I'm sure you'll make her very happy, Edward."
He hears Ed shifting, stepping back further, coughing into a muffling hand. "Jeeze... C'mon, you're just embarrassing me now, bastard..."
Roy forces a chuckle. He's now far, far too aware of how awkward this situation has become and where his mind is quickly slipping toward, from the sweat on his palms, the heat steadily rising in his neck and face, his heart pounding in his ears. He's regretting what he just said, everything he's thinking to say, and especially everything he's done just now.
Desperate to leave this, Roy forces himself to turn around and feel for the table next to him. He follows its edges until he retrieves his cane from where it leans against one of its legs, nearly stumbling over a chair as he does so.
"Sorry," he mutters, as he quickly walks towards what he believes is the doorway out of the kitchen-
"Wait-"
BANG!
...Roy's walked straight into the doorframe instead.
"Ugh, shit-" Roy curses under his breath as he rubs his nose, having banged it against a wall for the first time in months. If not before, his dignity has been completely shattered now.
"Uh- Sorry, I tried to- Are you okay?" Ed's voice approaches from his back.
"I- Fine, fine. Sorry. Sorry," Roy mumbles through a hand over his face, his other one feeling around the doorway with his cane and finding safe passage out of the room. He slips out, dodging whatever move Edward was making towards him, and fumbles to the front door.
"Mustang-!" He hears Ed call out, and at this point Roy can hear a distinct pair of footsteps making their way out of a room upstairs and towards the stairwell – Winry, probably startled awake between the noise and Ed's yelling.
But Roy only regards it for a moment – in the next, he's already through the door and down the front steps, getting as far away from the Rockbell house as possible.
At this point, if he'd had his Alchemy gloves on hand, he would've had half-a-mind to transmute an explosion to end his own embarrassing existence right here and now.
He wouldn't, of course. But still.
–
Roy spent the rest of the afterparty as far away and as hidden from everyone else as possible – which resulted in him carefully making his way along the dirt road leading to the house until he found where Riza had parked his car, and hunching behind it like a sad, frightened child. He felt about as pathetic as one.
He only rose to his feet when he heard footsteps approaching, and did his best to greet the approacher without looking or sounding as shameful as he felt.
“Oh. So this is where you’ve been,” the person responds. It’s Riza, to his relief, but she sounds concerned. “Are you alright, sir? The newlyweds were worried about you.”
“It’s nothing,” Roy says hurriedly. “I just, uh- needed some time alone. These gatherings wear on me, you know.”
Riza makes a thoughtful sound, but says nothing, instead sounding like she was coming closer. Roy suddenly remembers the injury he just suffered to his face and attempts to turn away, but a firm hand on his shoulder stops him.
"...Your nose is red. Did you run into something?"
Roy clears his throat, resisting the urge to rub at its soreness. "It's fine, it's fine, I was just... more careless than usual." Alas, he can’t quite hide the shame in his voice.
Riza “hmph”s at him, but doesn't press him, thankfully. No one else does either, during the entirety of the trip back to Central, neither in the car or on the train. Roy appreciates it, as he always does when his squadron is supportive and accommodating of his condition.
Roy can silently stew in his shame alone, like he deserves.