"Looking nice and inconspicuous, Fullmetal," Mustang called from his horse. "Your usual attire stands out a bit. Smart—you wouldn't want to get caught on your big day."

Ed seethed and cussed under his breath. He couldn't wait to ditch Mustang.

The company of soldiers approached the royal city in a surprisingly casual manner. Some in the front and rear stayed on horseback, but many had dismounted and were on foot, leading their horses. Ed and Al stayed in the midst of the blue uniforms, blending in surprisingly well.

Beside him, Al grew more and more jittery. His eyes shone with excitement, but he twitched and trembled with apprehension. He was very close to his goal, both excited and terrified about it.

One day. Ed had one day with him left.

His heart pounded. He felt he would explode with every pulse. It was now or never.

Al's hand hung unsuspecting at his side. Ed hoped his palm wasn't too sweaty as he grabbed Al's hand in his.

Al looked up, surprised. Ed grinned and winked at him, hoping his expression wasn't too manic. To him, his grin felt like a madman's.

Faint pink tinged Al's cheeks, but he smiled back. He squeezed Ed's hand lightly, seeming to accept the gesture.

Within a minute, his trembling stopped.

Ed refrained from pumping his fist in the air, but threw a party inside.

As usual, Al's touch calmed Ed as much as the other way around. His worries about today, and after today, no longer catapulted his heart into his throat. He'd worry about it all later.

For now, he was holding Al's hand, and that was enough.

.

The royal city was fairly small. Not the behemoth Al had been expecting. The castle itself was tucked up on a hill, with the town spiraling in all directions below it.

The cobbled streets felt odd under Al's bare feet. Not bad, just…different.

He was very glad to have a familiar hand—Ed's hand—in his as they crossed the bridge and entered the city. He might have exploded with nerves before Ed placed a hand in his.

Although it was early, shopkeepers and traveling merchants alike were already out, setting up their wares for the day.

Pennants all bearing the same dragon-like design were strung across the streets between buildings. One of the soldiers mentioned that it was the royal crest.

They were far from the first patrons up and about. On a day like this, everyone rose early.

"Where do you want to go first?" Ed murmured, squeezing Al's hand lightly.

"I don't know." Al couldn't stop staring. "I want to go everywhere."

"You and your friend can go wherever you like," Colonel Mustang said over their shoulders. He'd dismounted his horse and now only loomed over them by a head. "But stay within eyeshot of one of my men at all times."

"Right," Ed said, slowly and sarcastically. He rolled his eyes at Al, where Mustang couldn't see. "So, Lieutenant Hawkeye is out? She's not one of your men."

Mustang's voice hardened. "My meaning was clear, Fullmetal."

"Uh-huh."

Al bit back a giggle.

Ed dragged Al up the street, where vendors had set up shop either outside their storefronts or in wheeled stalls.

Al felt the familiar shyness creep over him as Ed nudged him toward one of the stalls. It should have been ludicrous—he'd talked down armed soldiers from a fight, and he'd talked hard-up deserters out of a healthy bounty. Saying hello to the woman selling flowers? Somehow he froze up.

He needn't have worried, though. The woman with a stall full of bouquets was all too eager to flaunt her wares, showing Al each arrangement and type of flower—many of which Al had only seen in books. He inhaled their scents eagerly, hungrily.

Even when he admitted, flushing with embarrassment, that he didn't have any money, she didn't seem bothered. Instead she amused herself—and him—by threading spare flowers into his hair. Soon his braid was adorned with petals of all colors and shapes.

A few flowers even landed—and stuck—on Ed. Al had the feeling Ed would have batted them out of his hair, if Al weren't so amused by it. As it was, Ed grinned good-naturedly and bore the flowery humiliation.

As they bid the flower woman goodbye and walked on, Al dared to whisper to Ed, "I think they look great on you."

Ed's cheeks were rosy for the next few minutes.

A bakery loomed up in front of them, and Al was eager to go inside, dragging Ed by the hand. He had questions about baking a pie, and preventing the crust from burning.

The baker was welcoming, nearly as eager to show off his work as Al was to see it. He demonstrated his technique—which involved an extra layer of greasy insulation between the pan and the crust—before giving Al a free sample.

It was peach pie, not apple, his favorite, but he was still more than happy to accept. And the crust was delicious.

Before he had a moment's rest, Ed was pulling Al by the hand to another bakery—a better one, he insisted. When Al pressed him on how he knew this, Ed admitted to robbing many bakeries in the past.

Before noon, they'd visited several bakeries, and Al was stuffed full of sample cakes and treats, and advice about apple pie.

Bakeries were only the beginning. The day became a blur of one fun thing after another. Everyone was welcoming and kind and helpful. If anyone recognized Edward from his Wanted posters, they did not mention it.

More than one of Mustang's soldiers remarked on the unusual lightness of the day. Most shopkeepers, apparently, struggled to turn a profit—even in the royal city. Festival day, it seemed, had infected each of them with a pleasant, generous mood.

Al made friends easily, his shy hesitance slipping into oblivion. Many of the food vendors offered him free samples, taking a liking to him immediately and—to use Ed's word—cooing over him.

Even Selim seemed to enjoy the attention. He spent his time curled on Al's shoulder in the form of a four-legged creature, eyes wide and curious.

Several townspeople tried to give him a friendly pat, and were surprised when their hands went straight through. But even a mysterious shadow creature couldn't deter the mood of the day—joy was everywhere.

It was in the flowers Al smelled, in every bite of food he tried. In every smile he received, every small animal he saw.

But mostly, it was in Ed.

Ed, who brought him to a public library and showed him the section on alchemy. Al spent an hour poring over all the circles he could memorize, lamenting the time limit that would prevent him from reading all of them. (Al could swear he saw Ed slip one in his pocket before they left.)

Ed, who followed stray cats with him for an hour when Al mentioned wanting to see kittens. One of the shopkeepers had a brand new litter, just weeks old, she said. Al held each of them rapturously and played with them in turn. Ed let Al plop a kitten on his lap—Al giggled unrestrainedly as the little animal crawled up and down his shoulders, burying its face in Ed's coat, his hair.

Ed, who helped him draw a transmutation circle in the square so he could make little alchemy sculptures without drawing attention to his too-unique gifts. The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed.

Ed, who grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into an alley, out of sight of Mustang's soldiers, and handed him a cupcake. They ate their sweet treats in the tiny space, their bodies sharing warmth. Ed was close enough that Al could see the beads of sweat on his freckled cheeks.

Ed, who pressed a disc with the royal crest into his palm, saying, "For you—so you belong."

"Where'd you get this?"

"Bought it."

"How—?"

"Don't worry about it. It's yours."

"I can't pay you back, unless—"

"It's a gift, stupid. You don't pay me back, you say thank you."

Ed's cheeks were red through the entire conversation.

Ed, who let himself be dragged into the square where musicians were playing a wild dance number. Neither of them knew the steps, which resulted in more laughing than dancing.

Al tripped over his own feet, over Ed's, clinging to Ed to keep his balance. Ed was equally clumsy, and their closeness nearly became an embrace.

Somehow they ended the song on the right step, holding each other and gasping for breath.

Ed, who leaned in close to Al after their dance, eyes intent and focused. He then changed his course, bumping his cheek clumsily to Al's in an awkward gesture.

Al felt he'd melt under Ed's golden gaze. (It only occurred to him later what Ed might have been trying to do.)

Ed, who rebraided Al's hair, with the excuse that it had loosened in the dancing. Al, astonished he hadn't had to ask, found himself nearly intoxicated with the feeling of Ed's fingers at his scalp.

The afternoon stretched on. Al found himself wishing it wouldn't, so he could have longer with Ed.

Sure, he was looking forward to the lanterns, and he was certain they'd be spectacular. But once they'd been launched, risen from the sky, his time with Ed would be up.

Or would it be?

What would the future hold for him? For them?

Al was contemplating the golden sheen on Ed's hair cast by the late afternoon sun when Ed's attention was seized by something up ahead. He drifted toward it, towing Al almost unthinkingly by their interlocked hands.

Al blinked, looking up at what had caught Ed's eye—an old mural, faded and chipping. It depicted a family of four: A mother, father, and two small children, neither older than two.

"The royal family," said a voice behind them, and they turned to see Lieutenant Hawkeye—Riza, Al corrected himself—looking up at the mural as well. "The queen perished the night of the earthquake. It's believed that the two young princes were lost as well, though it was never confirmed."

The king's head was nearly completely obscured by chipped paint and age.

Al pointed with his free hand to the babies, two smiling, golden-haired boys. Colonel Mustang's theory still seemed more silly than anything to him. "One of those could be you."

Ed snorted and shoved his head affectionately. "Nah. It's definitely you. Look at that one—he's a dead ringer for you." He nodded at the smaller of the babies, bundled in the queen's arms. "All you need is a pacifier."

Ed stuck his finger close to Al's mouth, wiggling obnoxiously. Al, laughing, was caught off guard when a piece of candy worked its way between his lips.

"There. Perfect. Prince Baby."

Al nipped at Ed's finger in protest—but softly. He accepted the hard caramel sugar, sucking it into his mouth. "I'm not a baby," he managed to protest.

Ed smiled softly at him. "No, you're not."

Townsfolk approached the mural in a steady stream, leaving flowers, trinkets, and candles at the base of the mural.

"Like a memorial," Ed noted, unusually quiet. Almost reverent.

"The kingdom never recovered from the earthquake," Riza mused. "Losing the queen, the princes, our king ceding power to the military brass—it was a lot to take in. The lantern lighting gives many of us hope—hope that one day the kingdom will heal. We all need that."

"It'll heal tomorrow," Mustang said determinedly. He too stared up at the mural, having appeared soundlessly behind them. His eyes darted between the painted princes and Edward.

"Not on your life," Ed mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

The afternoon sun began to dip below the streets, casting longer and longer shadows. Al managed to complete one more activity—trying on long, flowing dresses lent to him by a generous shopkeeper—before the merchants began to close their shops and prepare for the evening event.

Ed grabbed Al by the hand and towed him through the streets, down toward the lake.

"Where are we going?"

"Just wait. You'll see."

.

Ed rowed the small boat with broad, confident strokes. Al sat patiently, watching the kingdom on the hill shrink slowly in the dusky light.

Finally, Ed slowed the boat and steered it sideways.

"How d'you feel about this spot? I figured you'd want the best view. After all, it's the biggest day of your life, isn't it?"

Al surveyed the castle, the town. His heart beat light and rapid, giving him the sense that a rabbit was leaping through his chest. He ought to have replied, yes, it's perfect, to Ed—but his mouth was desert-dry.

"Hey." A hand landed on Al's leg. "You…okay?"

Well, now that Ed was touching him…

Al cleared his throat. "Yeah. Mostly. I'm…just nervous." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Ed scooted closer on the seat, tilting his ear to catch Al's words. Al privately glowed at the warmth in the little space between them.

"After everything I've seen," he tried to explain, "won't this just be…underwhelming?"

Ed made a face Al could only describe as a very Ed expression. "'Course not. It'll be everything you hope it'll be."

"But…what then?" Al struggled to put his feelings into words. Even now, he was scared to say what he felt outright. "Once my dream comes true, I'll have nothing left."

He didn't want to return to his old life. He didn't want to return to Father. He wanted to stay with the boy beside him, travel the world hand in hand with him.

Just say it.

"That's bullshit," Ed said. "You won't have nothing. You find something else you want. Find a new dream. Make it come true too."

There was something odd in his Ed expression. Like he was holding something back, too. His eyes moved between Al and the floor of their boat, as if he looked at Al for too long, something would…happen.

But it was enough to make Al smile. Even as the color rose in his cheeks, he made his resolution. He would find the courage. He would strive for what he wanted.

This was the first of many dreams.

"Oh," Ed said, fumbling under his seat. "I got these."

He revealed two simple lanterns.

"Thought after all this fuss about seeing the lanterns, you might want to launch one yourself."

Al couldn't speak again. This time, his throat was blocked by emotions welling up. If he said anything, he was afraid they'd come bursting out—probably with tears attached.

"Alchemists can turn these into any shape you want. At least, that's what Mustang told me. I had one of his lackeys hook me up. One of the nice ones."

You didn't have to.

Ed didn't have to do any of this. Once he'd gotten Al to the city, he could have fucked off until now, or even once Al was ready to leave. That had been their deal, after all.

The deal hadn't included escorting Al all over town. Rowing him out on the lake. Bringing these lanterns with him. Checking to make sure Al was smiling, and making him smile whenever he wasn't.

It couldn't be just about the deal anymore. There had to be more. Al believed that.

"You…okay?"

Al nodded and reached into his pocket. "I've got something for you, too."

He pulled out the Stone.

"I was afraid to give it back to you before. I thought…once you had it, you'd…"

Ed's palm came over his, covering the stone.

"I thought…that was all you cared about. But I don't feel that way anymore. I'm not afraid."

Ed pocketed the stone without looking at it twice. "I know what you mean. Now, let's get these things lit."

Before their eyes, the shore of the kingdom began to light up. Lanterns gleamed by the thousands, reflecting golden light off the water.

Then slowly, slowly, they began to rise. Some rose high into the sky immediately, while others hovered close to the ground, floating across the surface of the lake.

Ed clapped his hands and transformed the simple, cylindrical lantern into a showy, spiky monstrosity. Another simple transmutation created a spark, and the lantern was lit. Light gleamed out of every orifice, sending scattered rays in every direction.

Ed held it up, a proud grin on his face. Al couldn't help but laugh. He wouldn't expect anything else from Ed.

"Shut up! Your turn."

Al thought briefly, then touched his hands together. Blue energy sparked from them, and he transformed his lantern into a sleek yet simple tower, complete with open windows at the top.

Light spilled from them invitingly, but the invitation didn't call to Al anymore. The call came from outside his home, from someone who made him feel safe and excited and adventurous and loved all at once.

If Ed recognized the design, he didn't comment on it. He raised his creation, letting it tug at his hands, eager to be released.

Al did the same, and they let their lanterns fly at the same time.

Despite their difference in shape, the lanterns stayed close as they rose into the sky, into the sea of lanterns now flying overhead.

Al willed his to fly as high as possible—perhaps his could be the beacon that flashed in the sky to someone far away, calling to them and leading them to the life they wanted.

After all, he was here now. The life he wanted was right beside him. So close.

He'd just released his tower. The possibilities ahead of him were endless.

"What do you think?" Ed asked him. His eyes flashed upward, to the sea of light.

Al looked around. It was like they'd entered a forest—instead of trees, golden lanterns surrounded them, towered above them. The dark night was all but obliterated, a veil of light draped over them.

"It's beautiful." It was the only word Al could think of.

"Yeah." Ed sounded a bit strangled. "It is." His eyes were fixed on Al.

He glowed in the lantern light.

Al was transfixed by the way his skin gleamed and threw off gold flecks. He turned away from the lanterns, toward Ed.

His reaching hand bumped into Ed's, who apparently had the same idea.

Ed's warm fingers closed around his. Al squeezed back, letting himself drown in that honeyed gaze.

"Listen." Ed's cheeks were flushed, and he stared at Al's ear instead of his eyes. "Earlier, you said I've been running toward something my whole life."

"Yeah?"

"I dunno. It's stupid. But I think I might…maybe I was…" He sighed in frustration. "Run—running toward…"

He seemed unwilling—or unable—to finish the sentence.

"Don't hurt yourself," Al teased.

"Idiot."

"It's okay." Al stroked his hand with one thumb. "I think I know what you mean."

Ed's metal hand slowly came up and brushed Al's bangs out of his face. Al could feel even his automail trembling as he tucked the loose hair behind Al's ear.

"Al…"

His hand cradled Al's cheek, tilting his face forward. Not holding it in place, but…positioning it.

Ed was moving closer and closer. His eyes were fixed on Al's lips—

Al's breathing sped up, nearly hyperventilating. He didn't know how to respond to what was coming.

He let his eyes close.

And then Ed's lips were on his, warm and a little dry and more than a little hesitant. They pressed against Al's, light and gentle. Shaky, but there was no mistaking the fervor behind them.

A small noise pushed its way out of Al's throat, into Ed's mouth.

They were kissing.

Al was being kissed.

Ed was kissing him.

He tried his best to kiss back, pressing his lips into Ed's, leaning further into their clasped hands.

Ed's lips tasted sweet. Al swore he could detect a trace of the sugary frosting from earlier—but that wasn't it. It was Ed.

It felt like a dream—Al was barely able to move. He could only experience the wonder around him, the golden light, the music in his chest, the feeling of Ed's lips kissing his.

And then their lips were parting, both of them gasping for air but unwilling to move away. Breathing each other in, still holding steadfast to each other's hands.

Al's heartbeat galloped, sending joy thrumming through his body. He laughed a little, staring at the hollow of Ed's neck. As he watched, Ed's throat bobbed up and down as he laughed too.

Al wanted to climb inside this moment and never leave.

.

Ed felt like he was flying. Soaring among the clouds, carried up on wings he'd made himself.

He'd kissed Al.

He'd kissed Al, and Al had kissed him back.

Held his hand. Leaned into it. His little mmm of pleasure would be etched into Ed's memory forever.

Ed's lips felt too light without Al's against them. He wanted that feeling back, now and forever.

He lifted his gaze, ready to meet Al's eyes, those eyes so much like, and unlike, his own.

And stiffened.

Past Al, on the shore of the lake, two figures stood waiting for him.