Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.
Author's Note:
Warning: some mention of shounen-ai in this chapter. Brief and non-graphic but there. If such things offend you, please skip this chapter. And please, no flames. Or I'll sic Auric on you.
And again, in re: interrogations and assassinations. Patience is a virtue. That's all I'm gonna say.
And for the love of Auric, RoyEd, AlWinry, RizaJean, MaesGracia and little Winnie...please review.
For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the chapter.
Chapter 30: Ends And Means
"What do you mean, 'No Children'?" Ed's hoarse rumble was dangerously calm, and had the maitre'd known Ed the way Roy did, he would have been quaking in his cheap shiny shoes right about then. Roy would normally have stepped in to head Fullmetal off at the pass, but he was still distracted by the last thing Ed had said to him; he still hadn't quite figured out if he was being toyed with, but it was true that those pants fit about his slender hips as thought they had been painted on….
"This is a highly respectable establishment, sir. We count many esteemed persons among our clientele – why, even the Fuhrer-elect has been known to stop in from time to time. Children are disruptive to our patrons."
"Really," Ed observed dryly, shooting Roy a look which the older man shrugged off. Given that they'd simply picked the closest restaurant to HQ that looked halfway decent, but which Roy had already admitted to never having entered because, in the Flame Alchemist's own words, "I'm not a fan of any place that decorates with faux marble," he very much doubted the maitre'd's assertion. And right about now, he was regretting overruling Roy and insisting that they try the place just because he was hungry and didn't want to have to go any further. He turned his attention back to the maitre'd, still keeping a lid on his temper as he tried to sound reasonable. "She's not doing anything. She's got better manners than most of your patrons, for crying out loud!" Ed shifted Winnie in his arms, and the little girl babbled softly and turned to bestow a sweet smile on the maitre'd. It wasn't working, however.
"I'm sorry, sir. I have to enforce the rules of the establishment as posted on that sign right there."
Ed gritted his teeth, because the man didn't sound in the least bit sorry. Roy was murmuring something about being terribly sorry for the fuss and they'd find an alternative somewhere else, but Ed had had it. He turned towards Roy and ordered curtly, "We're not leaving. Hold Winnie." The tone in Ed's voice brooked no opposition, and Roy took the little girl into his arms, settling her carefully against his hip, even as he raised a faintly amused brow at Ed, suspecting what was about to happen. The Fullmetal Alchemist turned back to the maitre'd and smiled, but it wasn't the sweet smile his niece had delivered earlier. Like a magician about to perform a magic trick, he lifted his hands high before the man's face, turning them to show first their backs, then their fronts, before spreading them wide. "See anything?"
A disdainful curl of the man's thinly moustached upper lip. "No."
A curt nod. "Good." And before the confused maitre'd could open his mouth, Ed brought his hands together, then casually brushed one of them against the metal sign, which disintegrated instantly in a crackle of blue alchemic energy, its glittering remains sifting gently to the floor. "Oh, how unfortunate. Must be termites or something. But that takes care of that rule. No sign, no rule to enforce. Now either seat us, or read in tomorrow's papers about how your restaurant turned away the Fullmetal Alchemist and his niece. Oh, and the Fuhrer-elect, of course," the blonde man added belatedly. "Bet that will play very well with your clientele. Isn't that the gossip columnist for The Central Times over there?" and the flash of fang was pure Auric.
The man stiffened and eyed Ed suspiciously, taking in the weather-stained cloak and muddy boots. "I really doubt you…" and then his eyes caught the glint of light on metal as Ed casually pushed his cloak back over his shoulders, revealing a silver watch chain…and the hilts of two daggers in his belt. Both of which looked as though they'd seen much use. The maitre'd looked up, eyes wide – and then going wider as Roy stifled a sigh inwardly and stepped forward to allow the man a better look at his uniform insignias. His eyes travelled very slowly from Roy's shoulder boards, back to Ed's watch chain, up again to the mirthless hard smile on the blonde man's face, and then drifted beyond Ed's shoulder through the glass of the door and outside, where he could just see a gleaming black car drawn up to the curb and at least two armed guards next to it. He swallowed. Winnie blinked coquettishly at him.
"Right this way sir."
"You really didn't have to do that, you know," Roy chided. They had been seated at the best table in short order after Ed's little display, and service had thus far been impeccable, with the restaurant even managing to produce a high-chair for Winnie despite the ostensible ban on children. She was behaving impeccably thus far, quietly amusing herself by doodling on a napkin with a fat crayon that Ed had hastily transmuted from one of the candles on the table. "Ghastly taste in interior décor aside, the food's actually turning out to be rather good, and I'd like to be able to return after this."
"Give me a break, bastard," Ed snapped irritably, turning the stem of his wine glass around and around in his fingers. "You're going to be the damned Fuhrer, every restaurant in the country will be begging for your patronage. They should be thanking me for the publicity – I count at least three reporters in this room, and those flashes that keep going off and impairing my vision aren't lightning bolts, you know." The set look on his face betrayed his unease with having his photograph taken, and Roy was suddenly reminded of Auric's predilection for remaining inconspicuous. Ironic, really, that a person with looks as striking as Ed's would be so uncomfortable in the spotlight, but then both Ed and Auric had always preferred to be feted for their deeds and abilities, not their looks. "So I had to take the maitre'd down a peg or two. Ends and means."
"Indeed. Interesting tactic," Roy observed neutrally. "Thought you hated reporters."
Golden eyes flicked up to meet his for a moment. "I do. But as someone pointed out to be not too long ago, they have their uses. For a place like this one, bad publicity would be the kiss of death. And what's the point of having a reputation if you don't use it to your advantage?" Ed's eyes flicked away again to sweep around the room in a definite search pattern. He had insisted that he be the one to take the seat facing the door, and when Roy had pointed out that he would really rather not be shot in the back, having only just escaped assassination, thank you very much, Ed had snorted and pointed out that he was more likely than Roy to recognize and react to any danger coming from the street. Roy had eventually capitulated and sat down, aware that he was only drawing more attention to their presence amongst the diners. Already the sound level of conversation in the room had dropped precipitously as the other patrons strained to try and overhear the conversation between the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists. A couple had even started to shift their chairs discreetly, but Roy had quietly removed his gloves from his jacket pocket and laid them ostentatiously on the table, looking about deliberately to ensure the gesture was noticed, resulting in a hurried retreat and earning him the ghost of a smile from the blonde alchemist. But then Ed had gone back into the broody shell he had retreated into after securing their table, and nothing seemed to be able to coax him out of it, not even his niece, who, Roy could see, already had her famous uncle firmly wrapped around her little finger.
"And they say I'm the manipulative one. Gatekeeper."
"I learned from the best. General." A tight-lipped answer.
Roy sighed. "Ed, if you're uncomfortable here, we don't have to stay."
A shrug. "It wouldn't make a difference. We'd be followed wherever we went." He hesitated, then added, "You do realize that our having dinner together will be all over the early morning edition of tomorrow's papers?"
"I wouldn't have invited you to dinner if I weren't already aware of that fact, Edward," Roy reassured him, slipping a hand across the table, palm up, an invitation that Ed slowly accepted after a moment of consideration. He could feel the tension in the younger man's grip, and he tried to calm him by running a gentle thumb over Ed's knuckles, still marvelling at the feel of flesh where there had once been cold metal. The Fullmetal Alchemist raised a challenging eyebrow.
"So that's all it is? You want all Amestris to know that the Fullmetal Alchemist supports you wholeheartedly, is that it?"
The Flame Alchemist smirked, not taking the bait, knowing that Ed didn't really mean what he was saying, but was merely seeking an affirmation that he had chosen wisely in allowing himself to be vulnerable. "Well, that is, of course, a fringe benefit. But I was merely thinking that it would be a nice way to welcome you back from a trying mission. And to let all of society begin to know that I, Roy Mustang, debonair man-about-town, Flame Alchemist, Fuhrer-elect and devastatingly handsome devil…am officially off the market." He continued to stroke his thumb gently across the back of Ed's hand, waiting for a response.
Ed's head snapped up, and the look in his eyes was unreadable. "You don't…I mean…you're not concerned about the repercussions of having this…us…whatever we are…be public knowledge? I mean, among Hughes and Hawkeye and the rest of them is one thing…."
Roy shook his head gently. "Ed. I'm Fuhrer. What might be considered a heinous sin in a young up-and-coming officer, is often viewed with greater indulgence when the person involved is ruler of the damned country," and he smiled in satisfaction as Ed started at hearing the swear word dropping from his lips. Roy almost never did, unless it was to make a point. "Plus war heroes who are also famous State Alchemists are often accorded a little more latitude. I believe the question is…are you concerned about it? Do you think Al will object?"
"Hell no," and Ed laughed ruefully, "it was Al who made me…Auric…speak to you about it in the first place. In your tent. You remember?"
"How could I forget?" and the heat that rose in Roy's dark eyes made Ed's stomach turn over, but in a good way. "Pity about your braid though, I rather enjoyed doing that." Roy was being the perfect gentleman at the moment, and a small, dazed, but happy voice in Ed's head was squealing something about this technically being their first actual date, but when Roy looked at him that way, Ed had to fight not to chuck propriety out the nearest window and have his way with the man then and there. He was rather glad for the presence of his niece keeping him grounded.
"Idiot. It'll grow back, and anyway, it was really your fault, Flame Alchemist," and the affection and relief in Ed's voice was as music to Roy's ears. "Can't believe you're so obsessed with my hair. What will you do when I'm old and grey?"
Roy pondered the question with mock-seriousness. "Well, I am a State Alchemist…and I seem to recall a mission in your younger days when you were forced to colour your hair…how do you think you'd like being a redhead?" That earned him a snort of amusement, and little Winnie giggled happily, glad that her uncle appeared to be cheering up, thanks to the nice man with the dark eyes. She proffered the crayon in the latter's direction, which he accepted with grave courtesy, and then handed the napkin to her uncle, who took it in some bemusement. An attentive waiter swooped down and exchanged it for a fresh napkin, refusing Ed's offer to restore the napkin to its original pristine condition. Roy's eyes met Ed's across the table, and in the quirk of Roy's brows and the curl of Ed's lip, the same cynical thought could be read: the napkin would doubtless turn up soon enough as a souvenir of the time the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists had graced the establishment with their presence. Winnie looked doubtfully about her, obviously seeking some new amusement, and Roy hastily handed her the crayon and his own napkin. With the short attention span of a child, she eagerly set back to work as though she had never held a crayon before. "Ah, the energy of youth," Roy observed, not unkindly.
"What's the matter, old man?" Ed seemed far more at ease now, and his mouth had finally relaxed into the laughing lines that had been one of the starkest differences between Auric and the Ed they had known. Roy rather thought he could get used to seeing that face across the table from his, especially with that smile and the warm look in those golden eyes – it was almost as if the photograph Hawkeye had given him all those years ago had suddenly come to life and stepped out of its frame to fulfil the promise implicit in that gaze. "Feeling your age surrounded by us young ones?"
"I do seem to do my fair share of baby-sitting," Roy retorted with some asperity. "Seeing as how I was assigned responsibility for a certain shrimp not long after being promoted to Colonel. Can't blame a man for developing a complex, can you? And for your information, thirty-four is hardly over the hill." But he felt a reluctant smile touching his lips as the young man before him glared just long enough to deliver the message that he had heard that, and then abruptly…laughed, and in a graceful gesture that likely owed more to Auric than to Ed, brought Roy's fingertips to his lips for a fleeting kiss that soothed away the sting.
Another waiter cleared their plates and offered coffee, which they eagerly accepted. Almost ceremoniously, they inhaled, then sipped. Ed was the first to break the comfortable silence with a dramatically sorrowful sigh. "Still not as good as mine."
"I'm not arguing," Roy admitted. "Someday you'll have to show me how you do it. But this will serve us for what we need to do."
"And that would be?"
Roy put his cup down carefully, the softest clink of porcelain against the saucer. "Mission report, Colonel."
Ed nodded and sat up a little straighter, unfazed by Roy's sudden change of mood. That was, after all, part of who they were.
"So it sounds like you and Al were able to stabilize the situation up north sufficiently that they should be able to hold out until we can get a few more civilian alchemists up there to help out. Good work." Roy made a couple of careful notes on Ed's increasingly dog-eared report as Ed watched, trying to read the Flame Alchemist's scribbles upside down.
"How is it that a man who can draw the most graceful arrays can have such lousy penmanship?" the blonde alchemist asked, amused. "No wonder Hawkeye sometimes makes you re-do your paperwork."
Roy raised a daunting dark brow as a corner of his mouth quirked in a rueful expression caught between sheepishness and annoyance. "You try signing your name to what seems like a million reports a day and see how long your penmanship holds out." He neatened the pile of papers in front of him. "Besides, you don't exactly have the neatest handwriting in the world. Although this is a vast improvement from your younger days"
"Auric has a good hand," shrugged the blonde man. "I've adopted it. Comes easier now than my old style."
"Has?" Roy asked archly.
"Who do you think I am, Roy?" Ed rolled his eyes. "I'm not exactly the twelve-year-old kid who showed up and attacked the Fuhrer with a spear anymore, you know. There's obviously a good bit of Auric left in me. I think I'm finally starting to get stuff straight in my head though." He still hadn't told Roy – or Al, or anyone, for that matter – about his little epiphany the night of the assassination, although their little byplay in Roy's office had obviously told the Flame Alchemist that Ed had finally understood the rules of the new playing field they were on. Roy was still due a smack upside the head for being so ridiculously enigmatic about the whole thing, but they'd have time to work on that now, and again he had to fight off the stupid grin that threatened to split his face in two.
"Well that's certainly reassuring, for my own sense of physical self-preservation," Roy murmured dryly. "Spears and my hide are generally what I consider to be mutually exclusive elements."
Ed yawned widely. "Sure, fine, whatever. Are we done? I should get Winnie back to her parents soon, they must be done with diner by now. And you have a big day tomorrow, O Fuhrer-to-be. As do I, since I'm the one who has to make you Grand High Poobah." He really hoped Maes had gotten the sizing of his dress uniforms right. It had been bad enough when the Brigadier General had informed him that he would have to wear one, but when Al had pointed out, later on, that he would really need two, one for the inauguration ceremonies and another mess dress for the ball, it had not gone over terribly well. He had only cheered up slightly when Al had then pointed out that he would get to see Roy in mess dress as well, and that it was quite likely the Flame Alchemist would find the sight of his recalcitrant subordinate in uniform an unusual enough sight to rivet his attention. And so like a bride with her wedding gown, Ed had carefully taken steps to ensure Roy had not been reminded of the fact, stacking the deck carefully in favour of a positive surprise. Gatekeeper axiom: only take bets you know you'll win, and it never hurts to tip the odds in your favour. He really should start writing these things down, perhaps they could add them to the Officers' Handbook, common sense being something Ed had found rather uncommon in the military.
"There was just one other thing," Roy drawled in a deceptively mild tone of voice that instantly had Ed's nerves on edge. "Major Hawkeye turned in a report on the interrogation of Warrant Officer Hendricks. It was generally comprehensive, except for a noticeable lack of detail when it came to your part in it, as well as your arrest of General Hakuro – and his…unfortunate demise. She said that I should follow up on it with you as, and I quote, 'hearsay has no part in a report, sir.' Would you care to enlighten me? "
It really was remarkable, Roy thought, how mercurial Ed could be, and what an effect his moods could have on people. When Ed was in an expansive mood, for instance, he literally seemed to glow with sunlit intensity, his eyes and hair seeming to give off sparks of gold as he laughed, instantly enveloping those around him in warmth and lifting spirits seemingly through an act of will; when Ed was sullen – a favoured mood during his teenaged years, to be sure – that same glow was instantly shuttered, like the sun passing behind high clouds, brows drawing down above gold eyes that shuttered and darkened to dull amber as they watched their environs hostilely, a feral creature peering out from behind cover that left everyone unsettled; and when Ed was enraged, well…everyone hit the deck and headed for cover. Except Roy, and he suddenly wondered if that was what had drawn the young man to him. Right now though, Ed had opted for wariness; while not the sudden lockdown that "sullen" was, for instance, it was definitely a precipitous withdrawal, the soft look in his eyes vanishing to be replaced by a keen awareness that reminded Roy of a hawk hovering as it decided whether or not to alight on its falconer's arm…or to refuse the summons and take flight.
"My role was relatively minor," Ed said dismissively. "Armstrong did all the hard work with Hendricks. I just finished up the interrogation." No falsehood there; Gatekeeper axiom: never lie. Misdirect. Dissemble. And if all else fails, be economical with the truth. He would have to be on his toes though – this was the smirking-bastard-Colonel-I-invented-manipulation-and-charm he was attempting to evade. And then a more disquieting thought followed on the heels of the previous one: why was he trying to keep this from Mustang? Ed pursed his lips in annoyance. Guess the bastard wasn't the only one who put up walls.
"Indeed? Subsequent interrogation of Warrant Officer Hendricks seemed to indicate that you were instrumental in securing his cooperation."
"What can I say, Mustang, I'm a friendly kind of guy. People like me. And I don't drone on about a family legacy all the time – maybe it was the sheer relief of not having to hear it anymore that did it." Ed's tone was studiously casual even as his eyes fixed innocently on Roy's face, and while it was true that a part of him was contentedly admiring the attractive way the candlelight was picking out the man's elegant bone structure and glowing pale skin, the rest of him was carefully observing the man's reactions, especially in his eyes. You could gain a considerable advantage that way, and Ed had no doubts about the calibre of opponent he was facing here, which meant that he was not about to forgo the chance to gain the upper hand. Mustang did have one unfair advantage though, Ed thought crossly; those bedroom eyes of his made it difficult to distinguish pupil from iris, which meant that one of the key signals he was trained to watch for was virtually impossible to see. It was an added complication that his treacherous mind kept getting distracted by the suggestive promise in those midnight blue depths.
Roy snorted delicately, although Ed thought he saw a momentary flicker in the man's eyes as Roy's damnably observant mind noted the use of his last name instead of his first. "That you most certainly are not, Fullmetal," and Ed's gaze sharpened at the use of his title even as he growled at the insult. "You are correct in that people do like you. You can be pleasant enough when you want to be, certainly; that was clear enough even as a child. You have the intelligence to discern what people wish to see or hear, and the looks and charm to give it to them without compromising your own agenda. You are commendably loyal to those you care for – Al, Winry, Winnie…" he trailed off, and the one name he had left of the list hung above them unspoken, although the banked embers that smouldered in Ed's wary gaze were a silent affirmation that he, too, belonged in the litany. With an effort, Roy refocused on his point. "But you are, by nature, more inclined to introversion. And a man trained like Hendricks is unlikely to cave simply from relief. So I ask again: what did you do?" En garde.
"Sure you're not describing yourself there, Flame Alchemist and Master of Manipulation?" Parry.
"In this case, I fear the student may have surpassed the master," Thrust.
Ed carefully lifted Winnie from her highchair as the little girl yawned sleepily. He wrapped a small blanket around her as he settled her in his lap, her head resting trustingly against his shoulder as she dozed off. "I told you, I merely finished up. As we are here. Shall we settle up with the restaurant so I can take her home?" Counter-parry.
"You would use her as a shield, Fullmetal?" Counter-riposte. Roy's voice was barely audible, but Ed heard every word clearly, as the darkening of his brow telegraphed. He had hit a nerve, the Flame Alchemist realized, as he watched the young man struggle with himself, eyes cloudy with indecision. If he so wished, the Fullmetal Alchemist could be gone in a flash of wings and claw, for you could never truly domesticate a hawk, only tame it to your hand, and Roy held his breath as he waited on the edge of his seat for Ed to choose. For the space of a breath everything took on that painful clarity that occurs in the moments that matter: the clinking of forks and hum of conversation about them, the brilliance of the crystal chandeliers that dotted the ceiling, the interplay of light and emotion across Ed's curiously set face and burning eyes. And then Ed swallowed hard and he knew the young man had chosen. Touché.
"Roy…please."
"Ed…trust me. As I trust you. With all that I am." It was as close to an open admission of love as Roy had ever come, and he could see Ed's eyes widen at that. "Don't try to go it alone."
"You did." Despite the flatness of the tone in which it was uttered, it was clearly an interrogative.
"I had Maes and Hawkeye to hold me up at first. And then, just as I was starting to waver…you," and the raw truth in Roy's voice made Ed's throat hurt as though he were the one laying himself out for the other to see, open and vulnerable and trusting. He hugged Winnie a little closer to him, breathing in her clean baby smell and feeling the warmth of her innocence swathed up carefully and separated from him by more than just layers of fabric. It reminded him, in an odd way, of leaning up against Al's suit of armour, through which he would always swear he could feel the warm purity of his brother's soul, though its exterior be cold hard metal. Roy's eyes followed the motion, and a sad smile ghosted lightly upon his lips. "We do it all for them, do we not? Such innocence must be cherished and preserved. But oftentimes…there is no such hope for those of us who choose to protect. It is saved…but not for us." He hesitated, then added in a low voice, "To obtain..."
"…something of equal value must be lost. We do what we do that they might be safe. Ends and means." Ed closed his eyes and was very still. For a moment, Roy thought he'd gone too far, and he nearly reached across the table and grabbed Ed's hand, wanting to hold the young man to him, beg him to stay. And then Ed sighed and opened his eyes, which were clear and decided. "You know, I am getting so sick of that bloody law." He stood briskly, careful not to wake Winnie. "Fine. I won't do this in front of her. Al and Winry should be home by now – I'll drop her off. Meet you back at your place. General. You do still keep the same house?"
"Of course. You did promise me a later," Roy replied lightly, resisting the urge to jump out of his chair and dance an undignified jig about the restaurant. "Wouldn't be much good if you had returned and couldn't find me now, would it?"
"Your lack of self-interest is, as always, one of your more notable attributes," Ed observed wryly. "See you in ten, O Fuhrer-mine. And don't forget the report," and he indicated the pile of papers with a shoulder. "I'd hate to see my painstaking penmanship on display as a souvenir in a restaurant like this one."
In one of those strange quirks of circumstance, the wind was howling around the eaves of Mustang's house much as it had four years ago as Ed trudged grudgingly towards the modest dwelling. He had dropped a sleeping Winnie off with her parents, politely refused an offer to stay the night at the inn, dodged a swat from a blushing Winry after telling them not to do anything he wouldn't do, especially with a baby in the room, and teleported himself to the end of Mustang's street. It was in a very expensive part of Central where many of the rich and titled kept their city dwellings, and as such most of the houses were gargantuan, floridly embellished mansions that reminded the observer that money and taste did not necessarily go hand-in-hand. Mustang's house stood out for its relatively small size and tastefully minimalist exterior, and from what Ed could remember of the interior, his preferences ran towards comfort and understated luxury. He wondered what the neighbors thought of that. Then again, he doubted any of them would be likely to venture an opinion on the subject, knowing who their bachelor neighbor was. Roy wasn't exactly someone who blended in, even if the large black military cars that pulled up to the curb on a daily basis weren't enough of a giveaway. Or the guards posted at the front gate, who nodded politely to him. Ed was a little perturbed at the cavalier attitude the guards took towards visitors – he had expected to be stopped and at least asked his business - but the small flicker of recognition in their eyes quickly told him that Roy had probably forewarned them to expect him. Well, that and his face was only on the front page of every other newspaper these days, and given the way the press enjoyed using the phrases, "Flame and Fullmetal," "Flame vs. Fullmetal," "Flame or Fullmetal," it was quite likely that the guards thought Ed spent every waking hour with the man. In a purely platonic, good subordinate watching out for his CO sense, of course.
The door looked innocuous enough. Oak, probably, a well-polished brass knocker in the center of it, the few designs incised on its surface worn smooth from much use. Ed thought about by-passing the door entirely, just to give the man a bit of a shock, but decided that since he'd already unwittingly played up the symbolism of this actions by walking the length of Mustang's street instead of teleporting a little closer, he might as well take it the whole way, although as a general rule, sappy stuff gave him hives. Ostentatiously ignoring the door-knocker, he grinned, lifted his fist and pounded on the door, the wind whipping his hair about his face, and didn't stop until the door swung open to reveal Roy rolling his eyes, a knowing smirk on his lips and a flame at his fingertips. "Fullmetal."
Damn the man for looking so good. Oh what the hell. Four years was long enough. And they'd already gotten the first date out of the way.
And Ed stepped over the threshold, kicked the door shut, looked up determinedly – and kissed him straight on, with all the ardour of his sixteen-year-old self and all the experience of a twenty-year-old Gatekeeper, using teeth and lips and tongue to nip and nibble and suck and lick and taste, one hand firmly behind the man's head and the other slipping up the back of Roy's shirt as the Fullmetal Alchemist warred with the Flame for the upper hand in this dance until they were forced to break apart for air. The sensitive skin in the small of Ed's back burned where Roy's rough gloves had gripped him, and he kept his eyes fixed on Roy's as he slowly reached up and loosened the ribbon holding back his hair, tossing his head to shake out the golden locks that tumbled free about his shoulders. Roy's chest heaved, his lips bruised and parted slightly and his eyes dark with desire, though he somehow managed to find the control to keep his voice lightly mocking as he stripped off his gloves and ran his fingers possessively through Ed's hair, luxuriating in the familiar silken warmth as he pulled the young man to him again. "Ah. Debriefing later then?"
"Told you already, bastard," came the husky growl in his ear as they stumbled towards Roy's bedroom leaving a trail of clothing behind them on the floor. "Nothing comes between me and…"
The rest of that sentence was lost in a moan from the blonde as Roy discovered, much to his immense gratification, that Ed really hadn't been lying about that particular issue.
Ends and Means: contraction of the idiom, "The ends justify the means." Used when the actions we take are considered acceptable because of the specific desired end results.
