When Ed visits Roy and Riza at their new home (civilians, together, finally) the oddest part is watching the way they can't keep their hands off each other. Not in a gross, get-a-room kind of way, just - near-constant casual contact. Riza's fingers dance across Roy's wrist as they listen to Ed recount his latest travels. Roy's hand rests against Riza's back while they stand over the stove and attempt to figure out what they were trying to cook.
They order takeout. Riza picks up the phone; Roy brushes against her shoulder, then meets Ed's eyes across the room. The "smartass-remark-and-you-die" look on Roy's face is enough to convince Ed his friend hasn't been replaced by a doppelganger. Then Ed realizes he has no desire to wisecrack, which makes him wonder whether he's been replaced.
Or maybe this is what maturity feels like. Huh.
Roy comes to sit beside Ed and says quietly, "We're making up for all those years we were together and never touched. It's dumb, but there it is."
"Understandable," says Ed. "Military regs and all."
"Nah. Good excuse, but.. .We wanted to think we were special. Like we had some cosmic life-bond because everything had to be unspoken and invisible. That, young man," Roy adds in the wisdom-of-my-years tone he's never been able to pull off without a glimmer of irony, "was total bullshit."
"Then I hate to tell you this. With you and Riza, nothing was ever invisible."
"Yeah," Roy sighs. "Now I know."