A/N: Roy/Ed established-relationship fluff. That's really all there is to say about this. Please alert me to any spelling/grammar mistakes you may find. Enjoy!
Observations
Roy observed Edward. He could no longer remember a time when he hadn't done so. It wasn't so much a conscious decision as an instinctive response. Roy often felt he could compare it to such basic functions as walking, or breathing even. It had become second nature to him.
First and foremost, Roy observed characteristic actions: the way Edward toyed with the end of his braid when he was bored or listless; how he unwittingly bit his lower lip when he was nervous; his habit of coughing whenever he was trying not to laugh out loud. Edward drummed his fingers on whatever was nearby when he was trying to restrain himself from saying something rash, and he tapped his automail fingers against his automail leg when he needed to be reassured. He smiled more freely when he thought no one was watching.
Roy also observed the way Edward interacted with the world around him. Ed joked wryly with Havoc, playfully teased Fuery, and discussed politics with Falman. Breda was Ed's companion on trips to the coffee shop during their lunch breaks, and Hawkeye always earned a respectful nod each time she passed. Phone calls from Winry meant that Ed would stay on the line for half an hour at least, sitting on a tabletop or a windowsill, twirling the telephone cord and laughing with her. Any encounter with Alphonse always made Edward seem brighter and more content. This was a subtle change, and one which Roy had only discerned after weeks of careful study. A late-night conversation had revealed the cause of it: Edward still found it difficult to believe that Al was back in a human body. Every time he saw his younger brother, Ed felt again the joy and relief of his success.
All of these things Roy noticed, and all made him happy, but certain observations left him feeling a more inexplicable – and yet surprisingly strong – pleasure. Seeing Edward walk through Roy's own front door in the evening, leaving his boots on Roy's mat and his coat in Roy's closet, brought Roy an unexpected sense of satisfaction. He liked to lean against the kitchen doorframe and watch as Ed washed dishes, but only when Ed didn't know he was there, because otherwise the younger man would protest loudly that he "didn't need an audience." Edward often sprawled across the sofa in the living room as if he owned it, his legs draped languidly over the side, reading whatever book he had found at the library that day. Roy loved the deep level of concentration that came into Edward's eyes as he read, and the way that he could walk by as many times as he liked without Edward being aware.
Little things like seeing Edward's clothing flung haphazardly onto Roy's floor, Edward's pocket watch on the bedside table next to his, Edward's hairbrush on the bathroom counter – each brought Roy a strange sense of elation, almost unfathomable in its extremity. He loved lying in bed, watching as Edward quietly tiptoed into the dark room and began his nightly ritual of taking out his braid and emptying the pockets of his jeans, knowing that Edward was coming to his bed and no one else's. The only sight Roy cherished more was when he himself came into his bedroom late at night, perhaps after finishing some neglected work for the next day, to find Edward already curled up in the bed they now shared. Ed always looked more peaceful in his sleep, with his lips slightly parted and his golden hair splayed across Roy's pillow.
At these moments, Roy felt nearly overwhelmed by his love for Edward. It constantly amazed him that such simple, seemingly mundane occurrences could feel so meaningful, so beautiful, to him. He believed that it was not entirely impossible for him to live for these moments alone, or for the moments that followed, in which Edward noticed Roy's eyes fixed on him and smiled – a disarmingly sweet smile that Roy could never have imagined would be directed at him, and yet found more endearing each time he was privileged to see it. That very second – each time Edward glanced up during a conversation, looked up from the book he was reading, or woke up to see Roy lying next to him – was everything Roy could ever need. He was certain that such a love could not be put into words.
"You know, I still can't believe you're really here. Sometimes I think I must be dreaming it all."
Edward laughed when Roy admitted this, a soft sound from someplace deep in his throat. He turned slightly, repositioning himself in Roy's arms so that he could place his lips on Roy's. The kiss was gentle, amused.
"I love you too. Now stop being dramatic and go back to sleep."