As a rule, the Elric brothers had no home. They'd burnt it to the ground. They had gone through the house armed with gasoline stolen from an abandoned barn, stony-faced and teary-eyed. They poured it over bedsheets and wilted flowers; over childhood toys and aprons; over unskilled clay figurines and cherished pictures. Alphonse watched as Edward lit the final match, and watched as his place of comfort, of anguish, became dust and charred timber.

And they had walked away.

Now Edward stepped into the home of another.

Dark furniture littered the empty looking living room. Sharp angles and wood were predominant. To Ed, it looked like a proper bachelor pad. Liquor was stored in a rather large cabinet, the glass panels revealing a splendid collection. There was no clutter and few decorations.

The kitchen in the distance was spotless. He could tell the stove had been turned on maybe once or twice. The table looked lonely with only one chair; the other was resting against the wall, forlorn with ill-use. The coffee maker was on a pedestal in the middle of the counter, one of its owner's prized possessions.

"I know, I know. Not enough clutter for the Fullmetal Alchemist," Ed heard the soft click of the door behind him. Roy stepped into his home, carefully placing his coat onto the rack by the entrance.

Ed turned, flashed him a small smile, and looked around again at the insides of the apartment.

"This place feels like you," he said softly. Everywhere he looked he saw more and more of Roy and just what made him tick. He could imagine Roy in the morning at his table, Roy after work on the couch, and Roy heading down the hall to his bed. Not only imagine, remember. He saw a small nick on the coffee table, left from a flailing automail arm, and the singed corner of a book sitting upon it from the time the candles were a little too hard to light.

A rustle of clothing was his only warning before he found himself wrapped into a warm embrace. Roy buried his chin into the crook of his neck, cheek pressed gently on his own. Gloved fingers had found his opposite hips.

"Well, of course it does. I do live here, Ed," he teased lightly. He pressed his lips to Ed's neck briefly before scanning the room, eyes falling on the couch.

"I can feel you, too," he murmured, his smile hinted in his voice. "You've really left your mark." Some of the fabric was slightly ripped from the catch of automail. Ed turned his head in towards him, blushing slightly with embarrassment.

"But that doesn't make a home," Ed added. Roy looked up, watching him carefully. Ed smiled tentatively.

"It's the people in a house that make it a home. People who share a bond, who love each other," he explained softly, now very red in the face.

He paused.

"This is my home." Ed dropped his bags and whirled around to hide his teary eyes in his lover's chest. Roy grinned and held him.

"Welcome home, Ed."

Omake

"Hey!"

Ed and Roy looked up to find the giant suit of armor masquerading as Alphonse Elric rummaging through the icebox.

"There's nothing in it!"

Ed froze. Roy turned just in time to see the shock, horror, and revulsion cross his face as he took a step back.

"NO FOOD?!"

Roy barely managed to catch him as he bolted back towards the door, chuckling as he did so. Only after he waved a bag in front of Ed's face did he stop foaming at the mouth. Ed sniffed it, tore it out of his hands, and ran for the kitchen.

And Edward Elric was once again happy.