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Notes: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist...which still sucks. But this drabble...well it sucks more. But whatever. It's something again for the drabbleme community. And I figured these dumb things are at least letting me have something to do while I'm finding it impossible to work on Lullaby. I added a bit since submitting this on lj...no reason really. I just felt like it. Oh and don't mind Roy's injury. It's applies to nothing whatsoever, I just needed a reason for him to be where he is.

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Roy Mustang sat out on the porch and pouted as he watched the rain come down. His gloves were stuffed in his pockets along with his callused hands, and he shivered as he stared out over the grass which seemed to go on forever.

Water, water everywhere…

How'd that saying go? He was pretty sure it was appropriate here, but ah, he never was very good with those things. But everything sucked, he knew that. See Roy wanted to be in Central, where he was comfortable…not here in the middle of nowhere. He understood that maybe it was going to be better for him in the end to take a break, "take time to heal his wounds" they'd said. But it sucked now and he intended to keep pouting until something was done about it.

"Stop pouting."

Or maybe not.

The voice came from the doorway, but Roy didn't look up to see the blonde waiting there.

"What if I want to pout."

A mug of hot chocolate was thrust against his chest, spilling some onto his sweater accidentally (...but probably totally intentionally).

"Stop pouting."

Roy looked up at the man leaning in the doorway who was sipping at his own mug and staring off into nothing. He was beautiful, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it. Mustang laughed to himself at the thought…not of this man being beautiful, not at imagining the world if he ever realized his attractiveness. No, Mustang laughed that he had referred to Edward Elric as a man.

Roy drew his hands out of his pockets, grasped the mug tenderly, and muttered, "Thanks."

"You looked cold."

"Hmmph."

And this is what he was reduced to. Roy Mustang…living in the country and being tended to by the very person he gave the hardest time for years. He tried to move then, realizing his foot was asleep. The bandaged leg straightened, bent again, got propped up, put back down. He sighed.

"Do you want help."

Ed's voice seemed tired. And Roy refused to look at the man when he answered with a defiant "No," but he knew those golden eyes. They were looking at him like he was pitiful, like the way you look at a kitten you find on a rainy day in an alley that hasn't eaten in days and all the thing will do is meow incessantly.

"Roy?"

Mustang looked up at Edward then, and sure enough there were the eyes. Only maybe Ed looked like the kitten, his eyes big and wide and pleading.

"Is it really that bad out here with me?"

And it wasn't. And Roy knew that, but just took it for granted. It wasn't that he was having a bad time, it was just different. For the first time in a long time, Roy had just that...time. There wasn't paperwork, or missions, or people always bugging him. There were no pretty women, no jealous men, no Lieutenants hounding you to sign here or there or to stop sleeping at your desk. There was just him...and Ed...and a lot of quiet a lot of the time.

Which wasn't so bad. They never did have to say much to each other, which was the most comforting thing Ed could let happen, Roy realized. And maybe the reason it was so miserable for him to be there, was because he just wouldn't let himself get used to it.

"Edward…I..."

Ed still hadn't looked at him, but Roy realized that he didn't really deserve a second glance anyway.

"It's perfect. And I'm sorry…that I never say thank you."

The golden eyes closed, and a slight smile crept across the younger man's mouth. He sat down.

"Eh, it's ok. Can't expect too much from an old cripple, can I?"

And to that, Roy swiftly dumped the hot chocolate on Edward's lap and laughed.