Chapter 12

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Ed was confused since noon, when the older man found him in the library. He could still remember the ting of excitement upon seeing him, quickly replaced by shame and something close to disbelief when he noticed the stern expression on his commander's face. That wasn't what he wanted to see there – in his half sleepy state he still had hope that maybe Mustang felt the same way as he did; maybe he wished the phone never rang and they could see where what they shared could develop into. But no; he didn't even allow Ed the benefit of the doubt. He was angry at first, furious to have been fooled like that.

He was even more confused at the rehearsal, when, just like it was before, the colonel's stare didn't leave him, causing prickly sensations at the back of his neck every time he turned his look away. It surely didn't help when he noticed him glancing at the script, reading a little bit before he tensed and called it a day – and Ed was a perfectionist. When he decided to pull that show last night, he was practicing for so long he knew the three scenes before and ahead of that scene by heart as well. He knew what was supposed to come next, and he had no other explanation for Mustang's retreat but the fact that he was scared to see Ed playing that scene for someone other than him. He knew that, because at the beginning of the rehearsal Roy claimed they were going to have to stay late, and yet he called it a day at the same time as every other evening.

The confusion continued when Havoc suggested they continue the evening at a bar, and Roy met his eyes and suddenly protested against the idea. Ed could only read it one way – he was afraid of what might happen. As for himself, he wasn't sure if it was an awesome idea or a terrible idea. Him, Roy, and the rest of the crew up until the late hours of the night, drinking, could either go very, very right or horribly wrong. But he wasn't going to miss an opportunity, and when Havoc and Hughes defended the idea and his right to come along, he joined them.

He let out a huff, and tried to get a little more comfortable. He soon realized that unfortunately, that was impossible – stuck between Breda and Ross, there wasn't much room for him. Fortunately, though, Armstrong was sitting in the passenger's seat next to their driver, which meant he could at least breathe. He was starting to doubt fighting for this, but either way, it was too late now. Four taxis were already on their way from Eastern HQ to the bars district of town, and even if he spoke up now no one would bother listening to him.

Instead, he was forced to listen to the dull conversation about work and other random stuff, while all he wanted to do was to plan his course of action. He wasn't sure that he wanted to do anything; after all when they talked at noon, Mustang gave no sign that last night meant anything; but everything else about him told him a completely different story. Ed frowned, attempting to think despite the constant chatter around him, but the sound of his name made him snap out of it and look around.

"Huh?" he asked, looking around the car. He noticed that all three soldiers were looking directly at him. "You asked something?"

"How cute, he's so nervous he didn't even notice we were talking to him!"

Maybe she was a girl, but at that moment all Ed wanted to do was punch Ross in the face for that statement. He didn't, though; mostly because she really was a girl, even if her hair was always cut short. Shorter than some of the men he knew (and himself, but he knew that he was no example). He wasn't cute, and he didn't know they were talking to him because he didn't pay attention to what they were talking about, because they were boring – and not for any other reason.

"I'm not nervous, I was just thinking. Now what d'ya want?"

"I was wondering if this is going to be your first time out at a bar," said Breda with a broad smile. "Because – you know – you're young."

"And don't really strike as the kind who goes to that kind of places, to be honest."

Ed huffed, but generally calmed down. They weren't making fun of him – they were trying to let him join in on their conversation. He never really tried to connect with the people he worked with. He knew they cared about him – and hated it, because it meant that despite everything he did to prove that he wasn't a kid and didn't anyone to care for him because he was damn well capable of doing so himself didn't work – but he never thought of befriending them. The thought arouse a new kind of nervousness in him. He didn't know how to be friends with people. He only had Winry, and she was a freak.

"Whatever," he answered, shrugging carelessly and looking out of the window again. "I don't strike as a lot of things that I am."

He heard a chuckle, and assumed it was Breda. "True that."

"We're here," announced Armstrong, and Ed noticed the slowing pace of the scenery outside the window and felt the car stopping.

Doors were opened, and all four got out of the car after paying the driver. The rest of the team already stood on the sidewalk, chattering and waiting. They couldn't have arrived there long before them as the four taxis left together, but Ed already felt a little alienated. He really wasn't the type for this kind of gatherings.

He intentionally overlooked Roy, and made an attempt to crack a smile when Hughes and Havoc greeted their group before telling everyone to stop wasting time and just get into the bar.

Once they were inside, Ed couldn't help but glance around. He'd been to bars before – it was amazing, the effect his State Alchemist pocket watch had on people. However, he only entered country-side bars at remote places, for the sole reason that they always were his inn's restaurant and he didn't have much choice if he wanted to eat. They were nothing like this one.

Here it was dark – so dark he could barely see where he was going; the places he'd been at weren't exactly well-lit, but at least he could see what he was eating. And it was louder, not just with people's chatter since it was almost empty but with music. So much so that he had to make an effort and hear Mustang's voice telling them all to sit somewhere while he did something – for the life of him Ed couldn't really hear what it was. He sat along with everyone, feeling, more than hearing, the scraping of chairs on the wooden floor as they brought more chairs.

They were all talking, and soon Mustang came back with a large tray, tiny glasses with clear liquid in them resting on top of it in almost perfect balance. Immediately the talking stopped, turning into cheering as everyone leaned in to grab a glass – and Ed did the same. He never drank alcohol; despite having previously visited places that served it, he stuck to juice. He knew the effects of the bitter drink – after all, he was a scientist. He knew it wasn't going to be tasty, and he definitely wasn't sure if it was a good idea to drink now, with the colonel drinking as well and the situation being the way it was; but on the other hand, he felt like he really needed that. There was no other way for him to survive this evening.

He reached to the tray once it was placed on the table they were sitting around, attempting to get one of the small tumblers, when a hand stopped him. "I apologize Major, but I'm going to have to stop you, you're too young to drink!" Ed looked towards the lieutenant, seeing the stern expression on her face and knowing he couldn't win this argument – and that he didn't mind it that much, either. He took his hand back.

"I think it's stupid," he said, unable to help having the last word.

"Give the boy a break, Hawkeye. He works hard just like the rest of us. One drink won't kill him," he heard Havoc call over the loud music, a hint of laughter in his voice. Ed wanted to get mad about being referred to as a 'boy', but a hand passed just next to his face and reached for the tray before placing a glass in his hand stopped him. "There, boss. We're here to chill, and you earned that one."

Ed closed his hand around the tumbler when it was placed there and stared at its content. He could smell the strong scent of alcohol even when it wasn't so near his nose, and now it was so sharp it made his insides swirl in protest, as if they were trying to convince him against treating them that badly.

"Come on, just down it. If you do it fast enough you don't even taste it, just don't leave it in your mouth," he could hear Jean's voice encouraging him with a hint of a mockery.

"This is probably not a good idea…" said Armstrong, who sat right next to him, but a second later Breda joined in to the small conversation.

"You can do it, boss! Just make sure to drink the whole thing at once, and don't choke on it."

"…or throw up, don't think any of us would like to clean it."

"Oh shut up, I'm not a kid, alright? I can handle that," Ed said, offended. He gave the clear liquid one last glare before he brought it to his mouth, gulping the drink in one sip. He placed the now-empty glass on the table in front of him right after. It took him a second to realize he was coughing and that his throat was burning. Soon his stomach decided to play revenge at him, and he winced at the need to get the poison out of his system. Closing his eyes, Ed focused on breathing and keeping control on his gagging reflex.

He heard some clapping around him and felt a hand placed on his back. "Way to go, boss. Try to keep it in; the taste will go before you know it."

"Shut up," he muttered, regretting speaking no more than a second after he did. He swallowed, and forced himself to get a grip before looking up at Havoc. "I'm fine. It wasn't that bad."

"Told you he shouldn't be drinking…"

"What are you talking about? He's coping just fine!"

"Uh, I'm right here, you know…" Ed said, surprised at how choked and husky his voice came out. He cleared his throat and then noticed the stern look from Riza, and looked away, not adding a word. He knew she won't threaten him like she does to Roy, but she still was scary. "I'm fine, anyway," he decided to say eventually, leaning back in his seat. The feeling in his mouth and throat was starting to get better, even though he could still feel the effects of what he'd just drank in his head. Not enough to make him even a little bit tipsy, but just enough to let him know that whatever that disgusting thing was, it was strong.

"You're a man now, boss! Congrats."

"No, you've got this whole thing wrong, Jean, that's what you say after the first time someone has sex," Ed's stare rose from the floor at that, and he glared, shocked, at Breda – but that didn't stop him from talking. "Not when they have their first drink, so I think we're going to have to wait a little with that declaration – right, kiddo?"

"Shut up," Ed hissed, and the heat in his face told him he was probably crimson red by now. Luckily enough, the place was too dark for anyone to notice. He hoped so, anyway. Thoughts ran through his mind, mostly involving himself and Roy and the obvious lack of clothes. He reached towards the tray, happy to see that there were still a few full glasses resting there, and grabbing one. He didn't even care that much that he knew it was going to be disgusting, he just had to have something that would take his mind off that track. He downed it just like he did with the first one, still grimacing at the taste but it wasn't as bad this time.

"Oh, so you do have a thing with that Rockbell girl! Do tell – "

"Havoc, not everyone has a dirty mind like yours. Will you leave him alone? It's not even appropriate to talk to him about these things yet! Don't encourage it!"

"Fine, fine… sorry boss, didn't mean to make ya nervous. Take your time with these things."

"Ugh!" Ed blurted, earning some amused laughs from Breda and Havoc, and he was sure he could hear Armstrong chuckle as well. Luckily enough, though, they dropped the subject, moving to talk about other things, and soon enough he could ease into the conversation without being afraid it would turn towards a less safe direction than gossip.

Time passed, few different conversations blooming within their obviously too big group, changing and dynamic like conversations tended to be. It was actually very interesting to try and follow the drift of it, but soon enough Ed found out he actually enjoyed it.

He had no idea how long they sat like that, chattering and drinking (even though Riza didn't let him order anything and no one brought back a huge tray like Roy did when they just got in, Jean and Heymans kept sneaking him sips when she wasn't looking). He even managed to join a branch of the conversation that had Roy in it and remain civil and not be uncomfortable.

In general, Ed had to admit that he wasn't suffering. He was actually enjoying this, even though it felt awkward at first. The place started to get crowded, but he didn't even mind that much by the tenth time someone accidently pushed him just to either go to the washroom to get the beer out, or from the washroom to the bar to get beer in. Of course, that made the people he was currently talking with have one thing less to laugh about, but they found enough to laugh about by now that it was just fine.

That was, at least, until Ed heard a sneering sound right next to him.

"Came here to drown your sorrow in the bottom of a bottle, Colonel Mustang?"

The mocking voice made the little circle that heard him turn. A rather large man stood just next to them. He was wearing the military uniform, his rank shining in the dimmed light of the room, three golden stars to match the ones on Roy's shoulders.

The conversation died in a second, all laughter fading into the way too loud music, as anyone who heard him – meaning Breda, Ross, Armstrong and Ed – looked at Roy with a frown.

"Colonel Miller, funny seeing you here." Ed's eyebrow rose as he watched the change in his commanding officer's face. Gone was the bright smile that adorned his face just a second ago, now replaced by his notorious smug smirk. "Didn't think you had the time to go to such places."

"I do when I have a reason to celebrate. I'm on to you, Mustang, so you can drop the fake mask you're wearing. Did you tell your men that your little show was cancelled? That they were working their asses off for nothing?"

"Oh, fancy you mention it, I was really wondering if I guessed right. Good to see my instincts are just as they used to be. For your information, the musical is alive and kicking. We're actually celebrating today." Ed noticed how Roy's smirk only grew bigger. It took him a second, while he watched Roy picking up his glass and sipping from it. "Noticed you're here on your own? Was it a bad day at the office?"

The man who apparently just joined them – Miller or whatever – narrowed his eyes, and Ed was pretty sure he was red with anger, but he couldn't tell for sure in the dark room. It didn't matter that much, though. The moment Ed assimilated the fact that this man was probably the one responsible for McKinley dragging him to that interrogation room, asking him horrible questions about his relationship with Roy and making such horrible accusations – that was the moment when it didn't matter much what happened next.

Ed hated his guts.

"How come the stupid show you're putting still runs? It was inappropriate and against the rules, and, frankly, Mustang, I expected more from you than to use your rank on someone as little as Major Elric – "

That was it. As if accusing Roy of molesting him wasn't enough, now he had to go and use the 'L' word on him. Hearing someone next to him muttering something like "oh no he didn't just say that" Ed launched from his seat and grabbed the front of Colonel Miller's uniform shirt, bringing him up close and snarling at him. "Said what now? About Major Elric?"

"Fullmetal! Let go of him."

Ed didn't even bother to look sideways at Roy when he heard his somewhat angry voice – although the ordering tone wasn't good enough to cover up the amusement.

"Oh, it's you? You really are tiny, aren't you – "

Ed growled, and before he even registered the hand on his shoulder that was trying to hold him back he brought up his fist. Gaining some leverage, he hit the man's face, angry enough to simply not to care about his rank. The alcohol was helping a bit with that, as well.

"Don't. Call. Me. Short." Ed hissed between gritted teeth, only letting go of the man – who was now bent and holding his nose with his hand and glaring at Ed with hateful eyes – when the hand that until now only held him pulled him backwards forcefully. He stumbled backwards, ignoring the snorts of badly controlled laughter before looking at the owner of the hand. Armstrong was looking meaningfully at him, with the rest of the group – now they caught pretty much everyone's attention – standing just near, watching.

"Let go, Fullmetal, that's an order!" but despite the tang of anger, Ed could see that Roy was just as amused as the rest of them. Not that he did that to put on a show – that asshole piece of shitty colonel deserved what he got. He was lucky Ed used his left hand, too, because as far as he cared he deserved to be introduced closely to his right fist.

"But he's the asshole who tried to shut us down! And he called me little! He earned that."

"You're right, but – "

"Mustang, you'll pay for that. I know he's a minor, and getting him in here will get you in big trouble – "

"So will letting the higher-ups know that you're here, Colonel Miller. Aren't you on-call today? Orderly officers aren't allowed outside of the headquarters." Ed noticed the look of shock on Miller's face. On call? He wasn't even aware such a thing existed. But then again, that would explain why he could notice the occasional colonel-and-up ranks hanging around at night. "So you might want to keep quiet about that if you want me to keep quiet about you being here."

"You will pay for that, one way or another, Mustang – "

"What's going on here?"

Everyone's stare moved from what was going on between the three of them towards the new voice. It was a girl – Ed recognized her as the girl who'd been walking around, asking them if they needed anything. She was working here.

"Nothing – "

"Oh no, I've been working here long enough to know what I saw. You, my dear gentleman, have had enough. I won't let anyone start a fight inside on my shift. Out! All of you!" She glared at them – especially at Ed, who still had his fist in an incriminating position. When nobody moved, Ed could swear he saw flames in her eyes, and she reminded him awfully of Winry. He winced, somewhat expecting something to hit him in his head. Like a wrench. "NOW."

There was no further urging needed. That girl was scary, even without the mechanical equipment Winry had. With something like an apology, they started walking out. Ed shot one last hateful glare at Miller before following, narrowing his eyes at the sight of the girl next to him, looking like she was making sure he was alright.

Only once they were outside Ed realized just how loud it really was inside. He blinked, shocked that he could actually hear things other than the drums and bass of the music.

It took him a second to realize that the weird sound he was hearing now wasn't just the after effects of being forced to listen to way too many decibels, but the people around him laughing.

He raised an eyebrow. They were so drunk. A hint of a smirk crawled to his lips, but it disappeared when he realized his knuckles hurt from hitting that asshole's face. He was used to hitting people with his automail hand, not with his flesh one. He let out a surprised gasp when he felt someone hitting his back.

"As stupid as it was Fullmetal, it was damn awesome!" Ed glanced up to see Havoc hovering right next to him, partly using him for support as he struggled to remain standing rather than fall. "I've hated that guy for years and never had the guts to hit him like that."

"Yeah, well, I don't know him and I don't care – "

"Hey, Roy, is he really the guy who tried to shut us down?" Ed looked towards Maes. He was the one of the very few who didn't look – or smelled – smashed.

"He just admitted to that, didn't he?"

"Yeah…"

There was a moment of silence that was only broken by the music breaking through the bar's closed door and the occasional laughter. A moment later, another sound broke the silence.

"So since we got kicked out, how about we head home?" The attention was turned towards Riza. She seemed very moody – and yet another of the few who weren't dead drunk.

"We can go to another place," Jean said, and let go of Ed, stumbling on his own feet almost immediately. Luckily for him, Ed caught him.

"Or not. I'm just going to get us all taxis, we'll split it according to where we live."

An argument started, but Ed wasn't really paying attention. He glanced at Roy; he joined the argument at some point, but he wasn't sure if he was for going home or against it. He just couldn't help but think if he just screwed up big time by punching that guy, or if the confidence Mustang showed at the bar was for a good reason. He really did look angry when he told Ed to let go. What possessed him to do that? He knew the ranks, and he knew how the army worked. He knew he could go to prison for that, and Roy will get in trouble if that happened.

They both will.

He groaned. It was stupid. Going out tonight, insisting on making everyone treat him like an adult was stupid. It was fun, at first; but he probably just blew off any chance he might have had, and he hated that.

He was still grumpy and dwelling in his thoughts when he heard cars drawing near and Maes's voice telling him to get into one of them, while the others were still discussing who should ride with whom.

A few minutes later they were already on their way – Ed, just like before, stuck in the tiny space remaining, but at least this time his thigh was pressing against Breda on one side and the window on the other, rather than Breda and Ross. He tried not to think about the fact that on Breda's other side sat Roy, still in a rather good mood despite everything. Armstrong was sitting in the front, giving the driver directions to his house. Apparently, all three lived on the way to the headquarters, thus riding the same car as he did. He had no idea.

It was a rather awkward ride, and after they dropped Alex off at the gate of his mansion – and hell, it was some mansion alright – the chatter calmed down. Breda's house was, apparently, next, and the upcoming thought of being stuck alone in the taxi with Roy made Ed nervous and self conscious. Ed wasn't sure if it was just him, but it seemed to affect the atmosphere in the car.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol wearing off, being replaced with fatigue.

"Good night, sir, boss," Breda said when the car stopped. Ed opened the door and got out, letting Breda climb out before returning to his seat – much more comfortably now. Both he and Roy wished Heymans good night, and then he closed the door, and the driver started the car again.

"Two more stops, is that right?"

"Yes, Eastern headquarters and Rod street number twelve," Roy muttered, his tiredness obvious in his voice. Ed risked a glance in his direction, seeing his relaxed posture. He was staring outside the window, eyes open but Ed was pretty sure he wasn't really looking, and couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about.

After a moment of silence, the tension in the car was too much for him to bear. "Rod Street is like two blocks away from the HQ, isn't it? Didn't know you lived so close," Ed said, trying to sound casual. He knew it was strange – what with everything that happened, but tonight at the bar they seemed to manage to talk and be alright. "Doesn't that feel weird?"

"It's comfortable," came the answer, and the older man tore his eyes from the window, offering Ed a tired kind of smile. "I wouldn't have squashed here with Armstrong and Breda if it wasn't that convenient."

"Figures. You'd probably take the car with the girls."

Stupid. Idiot. Why did you have to say that?! The voice inside his head was furious, and Ed almost closed his eyes in frustration. Out of all the things in the world he could say. He really was an idiot sometimes.

"Probably," he heard Roy's answer, and tore himself out of his mental self beating. "Hey, don't take it the wrong way, but I appreciate what you did. I know I thanked you for that petition you started, but you really didn't need to."

"I know. It's fine," Ed moved uncomfortably. He wished the taxi driver would floor the gas pedal and just drive faster, and at the same time wanted him to stop and just give them all the time in the world. He wanted to make the most out of this situation, and knew he probably could, if he stopped being an idiot. But he wasn't sure he knew how not to sabotage this.

"It was really stupid, what you did today."

Ed grunted. "I know. My hand still hurts."

"Well, Havoc said it himself. You're a man now, so I'm sure you can handle it."

"I can handle much more, Mustang, in case you forgot that."

Roy chuckled. "No, I haven't."

There was another silence lying between them, the kind that told more than it hid. There was more to be said, and Ed knew that Roy felt that too. "We need to talk."

Ed opened his mouth to say something, but then realized he didn't really know what to say. His first instinct was to run from it – to say something stupid like there was nothing to talk about, or to push it to Monday where they will be back in the office. But since last night he wanted to do this, and knew he should. The fact that he couldn't sleep was more than enough of a proof of that, and despite the fact that he spent all day in the library to avoid just that, he wasn't the kind of guy who ran from his problems.

But that didn't mean he wasn't scared. It wasn't like all the other times he screwed up – he wasn't sure why, but this was different. He glanced up again, seeing Roy's dark eyes looking straight at him, no longer fuzzy from the alcohol but deep and exploring, as if he was trying to study him.

He felt the rush of blood to his face, but stubbornly kept his gaze fixed on Roy. He could feel the tension that still lay, thick and clear, between them, and couldn't help but wonder if Roy was thinking just what he was thinking – what would it be like if the phone hadn't rang last night. What did Roy's lips feel like? Did he smell the same now as he did yesterday, of mint and a cologne Ed didn't know but that always surrounded him and filled his office with a faint tang of sandalwood and freshly cut grass? Was his hair as soft as it looked?

"Edward?" the sound of his name tore Ed from his thoughts, and he blinked. He noticed that Roy was a little bit closer now – not enough so he could think it was something conscious or meaningful, but it was just enough so Ed could reach out and touch him. He wanted to do just that – to find out the answer to his questions, and screw everything else. He could vividly remember the way the colonel touched him last night. It wasn't a part of the play, it wasn't Roy's job to play the part. He did it solely because he wanted to. He could remember the sound of his heart pounding and his warm breath brushing against his skin and knew he didn't imagine any of the signs, because the look Roy was giving him now was far from professional.

It was a decision made in a split of a second. He closed the distance, knowing it was probably a mistake but he simply couldn't hold back any longer. He could feel Roy tense when their lips touched, and for a scary second he was sure the man was going to push him away – but he didn't. Instead, Ed could feel his shoulders relaxing and the air escaping from his lips as he gave in to the kiss.

Edward thought his chest might explode from how fast his heart was beating. No matter how much he convinced himself that what he saw was real, it was nothing like actually feeling it. It was like learning to breathe again – like until now he lacked oxygen and now suddenly had it in abundance. He gasped when Roy moved forward, his hand rising to hold on Ed's jaw, keeping him in place so he won't move away.

As if.

He couldn't help a soft moan when Roy pushed his tongue into his mouth, and Ed was more than happy to comply with that. He parted his lips, inviting the older man in and raising his hand to hold onto Roy's nape. He could feel his short hair tickling his hand but he didn't care as he pulled him closer and leaned in. He could feel the buttons of Roy's shirt pushing against his chest, and there was nothing he wanted to do more right now than to pop them open, tear those clothes away and offer everything he could give.

The kiss grew more desperate; he wanted to taste Roy, wanted to feel as much of him as possible, and he felt himself almost falling backwards as he struggled to find enough balance to keep seated as the car turned a sharp corner. The kiss broke, but only for a fraction of a second before Roy found him again, attacking his lips with even more passion, as if that was the one thing he craved for – and Ed wanted to believe that, with all his might. A swear escaped his lips, muttered breathlessly into Roy's mouth. His mind exploded. He wanted the kiss to last forever, and at the same time his body was starting to make demands to take it further.

Somewhere, at a corner of his consciousness he didn't really care for, Ed could hear the voice of the taxi driver muttering , "Just one stop, then. Rod Street it is."

Ed couldn't help but smile happily when Roy didn't correct him.