Roy always loved the morning.

He blinked slowly, trying-no, failing-to erase the sleep from his eyes. He turned slightly in the warm bed, letting the sunlight stream over one side of his face.

He always looked so beautiful in the morning.

His golden hair fell across the pillows, shining silkily against the sheets. Roy felt the urge to touch it, as he always did, but refrained, afraid he would wake his sleeping lover. His eyelids fluttered briefly; Roy held his breath. As lovely as the young man was, he just wanted a few more moments of this.

He released his breath as Ed settled himself once more. His eyes traced the sleeping boy's face, studying the structure of such magnificence. Roy began to count off on his features one by one.

His eyelashes, soft and light under heavy golden brows, creating long shadows on his perfect cheekbones. His nose, fluttering lightly with each intake of air. His lips, parted slightly and pink, above a smooth, hairless jawline.

He watched, silent, as the small chest lifted and fell. Each breath he took created a chain reaction that just fascinated the older man. Air came into his lungs, expanding them and then being forced back out again, all the while Ed's body moving just slightly to show the sign of life. He lay, watching the boy breathe.

His eyes wandered across the thin chest. He glanced briefly over the scars surrounding warm automail and looked down to his torso. The muscles on his abdomen rippled slowly.

Roy ran his fingers gently through the splayed golden hair on his pillow. It was so soft; he knew nothing could ever compare to its lovely texture, no matter how expensive or rare. He reached up to brush away a stray lock, intoxicated with its touch, when Ed slowly shifted.

"Roy," he mumbled, whining though barely awake, "You're staring again." Roy smiled lazily. "I know," he said, pulling his lover into an embrace.

"I just love the morning."