Hey guys: Meep here.

Ohmai, this fic is late. I had planned to post it in time for New Year's Day, and here it is the end of February ^^;. I'd say this is for Chinese New Year, but I've missed that, too.

It's just a quick little thing, but let me know what you think!

"Happy fuckin' New Year. I don't get what the big deal is; the world's another year older. Who cares?" Ed groused, fiddling with a loose thread on the couch while he said this.

Roy smiled weakly, not sure what to think. One moment they were talking alchemy, and now out of the blue: this. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."

"Do you disagree?" Ed turned to look at him fully. "The concept of a 'year' is relative. And the number '1919' is even more arbitrary –that's just how long people have been counting. Is that really reason to celebrate?"

To this, Roy chuckled. "I'll give you the point about recorded time, but I think those of us who live on Earth can all agree upon the definition of a year, Ed."

"Fuck you."

Roy's laugh deepened and he slid his arm around the other. "Now, what are you getting all flustered for? I wasn't quite done demolishing your argument yet."

"Not flustered. You're just bein' an asshole." Ed tried to pout, but ended up grinning a little anyway. He tried not to let Roy see.

"I think the reason you're putting up such a fuss about New Year's," Roy went on, "is because you don't want to go to the party tonight."

Ed's frown was authentic now. "Not really. We can go, though, I don't care."

Roy sighed. "To be honest, I don't much feel like going, myself."

"Ya' don't?"

"Nope." Roy seemed sincere enough, but…

"Well, why not? You've only been tryin' to sell me on it all week."

Roy shrugged, then gave a disarming little smile. "I'd rather spend it with you. New Year's Eve, I mean."

"Me too." Ed snuggled in closer to Roy's side, feeling himself relax a little. "Though I'm sure they'd have better food over there."

"I'll have you know I'm a very good cook, Edward Elric!" Roy tried his best to look offended.

"Heh, yeah. Good cook, my ass. If you're so good, then why are you still sitting here on the couch just talking about food?"

"What do you want?"

"Huh?"

"If you could have anything you wanted to eat," Roy clarified slowly, "what would it be?"

"Hmm…" Ed stroked a finger along his cheek, thoughtfully. "Ice cream," he decided.

"Ice cream." Roy repeated. "In the dead of winter. I said I'm a good cook, Ed, but I'm not a miracle worker."

"You said it could be anything I wanted! Shit, I didn't know we were still talking about that." He laughed. "You have to admit it does sound pretty damn good."

"It does," Roy agreed. "Now here's one for you."

"What's that?"

"If you could have any flavor of ice cream, what would it be?"

"Vanilla, you know that," Ed supplied instantly. "What about you?"

"Well, vanilla is a good choice, but I think I would have to go with pistachio."

Ed just gaped at him, his expression suggestiong he had just witnessed a crime. "Pistachio?"

"Yes. What's so wrong about that?"

"Roy, that's fuckin' green ice cream. Green! This is a fantasy where you can have anything you want…And you choose green ice cream with…" he waggled his fingers. "Weird shit in it."

"Nuts," Roy clarified, grinning.

"No wonder you like it," Ed nudged an elbow into Roy's side to which the dark-haired man squirmed away. Now that the arm was no longer automail, it wasn't so painful, it was just a bit ticklish. And then he noticed the time.

"Shit…"

"What? …Oh, shit," Ed echoed when his eyes followed Roy's to the clock. It was getting late. Not so late that they couldn't still make it if they hurried, but it was getting there.

Roy sighed and seemed to sink a little deeper into the cushions. "We're not going, are we?"

"We're not?" That was news to Ed. Not that he was particularly looking forward to making chit-chat with Roy's fellow office drones, but he was willing to do it to support him.

"Nah." Roy waved his hand dismissively at the clock. "I don't feel like it. Besides, I'm comfy," he admitted with a sheepish smile.

Ed had to agree, this snuggling thing they were doing was pretty damn –well– snuggly. "But won't it be a big deal if you don't go?"

Roy shrugged. "Maybe. I'll worry about that sort of thing when I'm Fuhrer."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Ed looked up at him. "You better not change your mind."

Roy laughed merrily. "I won't, don't worry. Well, now that that's settled, I guess it's up to us to figure out dinner." He groaned softly and stood up.

Ed stayed seated. "Lead the way, master chef. This is your golden opportunity to prove yourself; I wouldn't dream of getting in your way."

"Mock me all you want." Roy's voice sailed out from the kitchen. "I'll make sure this is the best meal you've ever tasted!"

In the end, it wasn't, but in a remarkable display of gallantry, Ed let him think it was. It was good enough.

After dinner, newly relieved of their social obligations, the two spent the rest of the evening at home, talking, laughing, and listening to the radio.

Finally, the same clock that had told them they would be late was tolling in the New Year. Conversation had been dying down for awhile and Ed was half asleep at this point, so it took him a moment to realize Roy was looking at him. "What?" he mumbled groggily.

"Happy fuckin' New Year, Ed." Roy gave him a huge grin and pulled him in for their first kiss of the author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.

Original text

Contribute a better translation