Ed was impossible to find a gift for.

For countless days, Roy had thought about it constantly. It took over his mind at work, at home, at any store he would walk by; it had become an incessant, nagging voice, and for the last two weeks that voice– and his panic –grew larger as the deadline approached him.

Ed was turning 19. It was another year, in the life of a veteran of unspeakable perils, that shouldn't have come to pass. It was also the first one he would spend as Roy's partner. Despite how little Ed cared for them, his birthdays had become a celebration of life to Roy, an occasion he was so deeply fond of that he would try anything to share that same level of meaning with Ed.

The problem was, he wasn't sure how.

He had asked Al once about Ed's interests, what he liked in particular, and Al simply stated what Roy already knew: books, alchemy, and more alchemy, as well as some things (such as a car with horns and a tacky paint job) that Ed could just easily transmute himself. There was also the possibility of engaging in some midnight aerobics–fucking to the point of oblivion, until they passed out in each other's arms– but really, they could do that any day.

It had to be something special; something that would share both the moment and the near-glacial equanimity he had earned from Ed.

With his birthday now upon him, Roy had sauntered out of work, only to retreat to his home and collapse on the bed in utter defeat. The skies had morphed into a blustery torrent of rain and his coat was drenched, his face damp and cold, his worries sucking up every last bit of heat in his body.

This is ridiculous, he thought as he rolled around in his bed, I had left myself plenty of time, and I still couldn't… THINK of anything.

He still needed to cook dinner as well. Ed was returning from a trip to the north and would definitely be famished, not to mention uncomfortable; his automail always gave him trouble in this kind of weather. He dragged himself out of bed, struggling to put his mind at ease so he could focus on what he promised to make: Ed's favorite stew, with a heaping helping of beef. That alone, Roy realized, may be the perfect gift for Ed; and yet, it still didn't feel like enough…

Ed arrived by the time Roy left the stew to boil, and he had walked into the kitchen just long enough to greet him before turning back to the living room and crawling into the couch. He, too, was soaked from head to toe, and Roy hurried over to the bathroom to bring him a few towels. Ed looked up at him, blinking heavily.

"Hey. Smells good in here," he said with a small smile as he wrapped himself up, "why you still in your uniform? You can take the patch off too. It's just me here."

"I must have been too intent on making this the best stew you'll ever have," Roy said as he sat beside Ed, "at least, that's what I'm hoping you'll think. How are you? You look exhausted."

"Automail hurts like a bitch… I swear if I could find a way to transmute the weather, I would fuckin' do it. Every single time it rains, these damn limbs start bothering me. Any chance you could burn up some logs there?"

"Of course."

He took a glove out of his pocket and donned it, and with a snap of his fingers, brought the fireplace to life. It was the only thing he ever used his alchemy for, in the presence of Ed, during days like these. The fire was a warm, welcoming embrace for both of them.

Roy curled his arms around Ed. "I missed you."

"I was only gone for a few days, you sap," Ed said, feigning resistance as Roy pulled him into a tight hug, "turns out there wasn't anything interesting going on in that guy's lab, or I would've stayed longer. Take that off-"

In one quick sweep he flung off the patch from Roy's face. The ache in Ed's arm suddenly grew worse in response, and he clutched it, hissing in pain.

"Stupid fucking weather…" he muttered under his breath, "Why does it have to rain wherever I go? It was like that up there too.

"Just take it easy tonight. Today's the day I get to spoil you, after all."

Roy rubbed his back, and Ed gradually relaxed, sinking into the older man's chest until they were both lying down, entangled in their arms and legs, their faces touching. Their silence melded with the soft crackling of burning wood.

"Yeah…" Ed sighed, "I missed you too."

The lid began to rattle in the pot as water splashed onto the stove. Reluctantly, Roy removed himself from Ed, who groaned and winced as the aches returned at full force.

"I'll be right back," Roy said, and gently ran his fingers across the nape of Ed's neck as he left, a sensation that always made Ed shiver.

He turned down the stove before making his way upstairs to change out of his uniform. After a nice, hot meal, Ed would probably be expecting a little more than just spoiling; in fact, after being out of action for several days, he was probably fantasizing about it right now, gathering together everything he'd want Roy to do, and for him to do to Roy (which Roy would be happy to oblige, of course). He rummaged through his dresser to find something light and comfortable to wear, settling on some pajamas he hadn't worn in a while– he had gotten too used to sleeping in his underwear and work shirt. He was about to unbutton his shirt when something else caught his eye.

Nestled between some clothes was a white wool blanket, and he bent down to pull it out, spreading it open until its edges reached the floor. He gazed at it solemnly; it had been years since he last touched this long-forgotten relic of his past. He held it close to him in his hands for a while before Ed's voice rang out from the living room.

"Roy? Where'd you go? Your pot's overboiling again."

Roy slipped into his pajamas and tucked the blanket under his arm. He headed downstairs to the kitchen, where he found Ed standing next to the stove and fiddling with the heat.

"How d'you turn this thing down?" Ed said, and Roy stood next to him dumbfounded, "is it this thing?"

"You… don't know how to do that?"

"Shut up, I don't cook. I eat out."

Roy smirked and tried not to laugh, and Ed scowled at him. He lifted the lid to stir the pot as he turned the flame down.

"You're hopeless," Roy laughed, "you'd probably starve to death if all the restaurants here were closed for business."

"Fuck you, Mustang. I'll just make YOU cook my food, then."

"How about I'll teach you instead? You might make something edible for yourself."

"Har har," Ed huffed as he bent over to massgae his thigh, "How about on a day when my limbs aren't killing me?"

"I would be more than happy to. You should go lie back down and relax in the meantime, since dinner's not ready yet. I have something for you as well."

Roy placed his hand on Ed's shoulder and guided him to the living room, where Ed sprawled out on the floor, hoping to absorb as much heat as possible from the fireplace to soothe the pain. He grabbed the towels from earlier and covered himself with them, while Roy sat next to him on his knees.

"Ah man, it's great to be out of that train," Ed said as he stretched out his arms and placed them under his head. He immediately regretted it. "Shit, these damn aches…"

"I don't know why you didn't call me to pick you up," Roy said, "I would've been more than happy to give you a ride."

"Yeah, well, after sitting on my ass for several hours, I just wanted to walk it off. It started storming like that after I left the station, anyways. Didn't you say you got something for me?"

"Yes, that's right."

He took the wool blanket from under his arm and draped it over Ed. Ed looked at it, his curiosity piqued.

"This?" Ed said, and felt it with his hand, "it feels really nice… like the stuff my mom used to use for me and Al's winter hats."

"It's for you, to stay warm wherever you go. I hope it will help with your pain."

Ed grinned. "You may be a bastard, but you're always such a thoughtful bastard. You had Gracia make it for me, didn't you?"

"No," Roy said as he tucked the blanket over Ed's shoulders, "I've had this for good part of my life, actually. My mother made it for me when I was very young. At least, that's what my foster mother told me."

"Wait… seriously?" Ed said as astonishment bloomed in his face, and he sat up, "You're not actually giving this to me, are you? To keep?"

"Yes, I am."

"But… this is– it isn't something you just give away to someone else!"

"But you aren't just someone else. You're someone who's very dear to me, Edward. Someone I want to be with for as long as I live."

A blush formed across Ed's face and he looked away. "Dammit, here comes that mushy crap again."

"I can't help myself," Roy said with a smile, "I could say more, but that pretty face of yours would probably turn as red as Gracia's tomato sauce."

"No way. Please save it. And, and this," he stammered, holding his hands over the blanket, "I don't know if I can take this, this is a part of your history, your childhood, it's just-"

"I know. And it's okay, Edward," Roy said as he kissed Ed's forehead, which made him blush more fiercly, "I still have my memories of her."

"But-"

"I want you to have it because you need it more than I do," he continued, and his eye fell once more on the blanket, on each stitch lovingly made by his mother. "I can't use this… not since the war. Not with all the people I killed."

Ed fell silent. He looked at Roy, who remained fixated on the blanket, with an air of melancholy beginning to surround him; Ed could sense the despair threatening to bury itself in Roy's chest, ready to consume him. He had to stop it.

"No, don't think about that– don't bring yourself back there. I understand," Ed intervened, and he took Roy's hand in his, "I'm sure your mother would understand, too. Just don't fuckin' think about that crap. That stuff is in the past. And you're here, you've got me and Riza, and all those other guys. And you helped save so many others. That's what matters now."

Roy smiled a little, taking Ed's hand and holding it against his cheek. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"No prob. I know when you're about to sink into one of those moods again," Ed said as he brushed the hair out of Roy's face, "Its just... what if this gets torn, or worse, I lose it or something? You know I'm not good at taking care of stuff…"

"I'm sure you'll take good care of it. Your health matters more to me."

"I… I mean, if this is really okay with you…"

"Remember what I said, Edward: you're not just someone else to me. You're a wild flurry but you always look out for me. Just like now."

Roy hugged him, and Ed soon reciprocated, their bodies becoming a hearth for each other's warmth. Ed still couldnt wrap his head around the fact that Roy was so willing to give it up to him, that Ed, with his abrasive nature and incompetent relationship skills, was deserving of such a gift.

"Thanks," Ed said, and paused, trying to convert his gratitude into words, "not just this. For everything, I mean. You're always looking out for me, too."

The two relaxed while Roy covered him with the blanket once more. Ed felt his lips trace along the curve of his neck before meeting his eyes, and Ed knew, with his cheeks going red again, with Roy's eye gazing at his lips… he knew Roy was waiting for him to connect, to kindle that emotion with the soft wetness of their lips joining together; he was waiting for that rare moment when when Ed would initiate. He stared fondly at Ed, until a grin spread across Roy's face.

"Besides, look at this–"and here Roy lifted the blanket to gauge it's size, "–something like this couldn't possibly cover my body. It was made when I was as small you, after all."

"You know what? I take back everything I said earlier. You are such a fucking asshole, Mustang."

Ed kissed him anyways.