Author's note: A quickie. This should have been posted last night, for 520 day, but I fell asleep. This getting old crap is really starting to piss me off. Regardless, happy belated RoyEd Day!
Paper Anniversary
"So. . ."
Roy Mustang let his newspaper droop to peer over the top. Edward was fiddling with his coffee cup, turning it slowly around and around in the saucer. The General folded his paper and placed it beside his half finished breakfast, then leaned elbows on the table to tent his fingers under his chin. A raised eyebrow invited his lover to say what was on his mind. He had to wait for it, but took the always welcome opportunity to check Edward out.
Hair bunched back in a messy tail of gold, loose strands falling into his face. The shirt Roy had discarded on the floor last night; buttoned, it still hung low off Ed's polished metal shoulder. A tooth worried his lower lip, gleaming honey eyes locked to Roy's under a furrowed brow. A lesser man would have taken him right there on the table.
"Yeah." Ed looked decidedly uncomfortable. "It's our anniversary."
"Yes."
It was. One year since they had started living together. Roy wasn't really surprised that they had beaten the odds, though just about everyone they knew was outright astonished that they were both still alive, never mind together. As a couple they did tend to react much like a spark in an oxygen rich environment, though that worked both as a positive and a negative.
"I didn't get you a gift," Ed finally blurted out.
"Ed-"
"It's not that I didn't try," the younger man rushed on. "I just couldn't think of anything that you might like, that was, you know, special." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "I asked Al, and he said a traditional first anniversary gift should be paper, and he suggested I just buy you a newspaper and give it to you with breakfast in bed which was pretty lame, and then Winry said I should get you some stationary and write a love poem on the first sheet, which was even lamer holy shit, and Breda suggested taking out an ad in the Central Times like I need to publicly humiliate myself and you, and Falman said you'd probably like tickets to that new opera at the Cuvilliés but then I'd have to go with you and probably fall asleep and snore through the second act and get us kicked out again so fuck that, and Havoc said the modern first anniversary gift is clocks, like really? Clocks? And with his relationship track record how does he even know? He's lucky to make it through the first date, never mind the first year. And Hawkeye said-"
"Edward." As curious as Roy was about Hawkeye's idea of a suitable first anniversary gift, it was time to set his lover's mind at ease. "I didn't get you a gift either."
Ed's shoulders slumped, relieved. "Oh," he said. "Good." And was that a touch of disappointment?
"I didn't get you a gift, Edward, because I couldn't think of any material thing I could give you that could possibly express just how much it means to me that you are in my life. This year we have had together has made me happier than I have ever been. No mere object in this world could match what you have given to me: you, all of yourself, sharing your life with me."
Edward's face was a delightful shade of red when he finally answered. "You gave yourself to me, too. The exchange is equivalent."
"I suppose."
"So, can we have sex now?" There, the cocky grin that never got old.
An answering smirk. "I thought you'd know by now that you never have to ask that question. The answer is always going to be 'yes'."
As he followed his love up the stairs, Roy contemplated his plans for the evening: a take-out dinner from their favorite restaurant and their spacious bed to play in. No paper anniversary for two such fiery, volatile lovers.
Paper was fragile, easily torn apart.
What they had was stronger than steel.