A New Adventure
Chapter 2
At first, Roy couldn't pinpoint the strange sensation he felt upon waking up. It wasn't disorientation for he knew exactly where he was—Jean's house, more specifically his living room couch. It was something else, something he hadn't felt in forever. After a full minute of blinking at the ceiling, he realized what it was: he felt truly and fully rested.
It had nothing to do with getting eight hours of sleep; after staying up until damn near dawn talking and drinking with Jean, he hadn't come anywhere close to that. Roy attributed the sensation to a complete lack of expectation and purpose that felt all the more substantial now that he was away from base and back home. He could do whatever the hell he wanted… once he figured out whatever the hell he wanted to do. There were no higher-ups yelling orders at him, no obligations, no deadlines, nothing at all except for a surprisingly comfortable couch (he was practically drowning in the cushions), the smell of bacon and cigarette smoke wafting from the kitchen, and the lovingly hushed tones of Jean as he spoke to Riza on the phone. Little things that were ever so appreciated in the grand scheme of what his life had become.
He sat up with a groan and rubbed his face. Sporadic patches of black stubble tickled his palm as it passed over his cheek and chin, causing him to smile wryly. Jean was right; he really couldn't grow the stuff to save his life. He swung his legs over the couch and squinted into the faint light of the room. After taking a moment to work up the desire to do more, he got up and went into the bathroom. When he was finished in there, he trudged into the kitchen where Jean was hovering over the stove, phone in one hand, spatula in the other, and, as always, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather not have my eggs flavored with ashes," he remarked as he watched his friend multitask.
Jean glanced over his shoulder, smirked, and flipped him off. He jerked his head in the direction of the coffee pot and turned back to the stove. Roy went over to the counter and grabbed the cup that was set out for him. (The handle was shaped like a handgun because of course it was.) It was hard not to overhear the rest of Jean's conversation since he was standing four feet away, and he smiled and poured as Jean wrapped up the call:
"Yes, dear… I will, dear… I know, dear… I can't call my soon-to-be wife dear? … Sorry, dear… Okay, it is way too early for that kind of language… See you soon… Love you, too… Bye."
"Good morning, dear," Roy said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Very funny."
Jean set the phone aside and started plating scrambled eggs and bacon. Right on cue, two slices of toast popped up from the toaster and he grabbed those as well. With everything situated, they sat down at the kitchen table.
"Riza sends her love," Jean said after remembering that he needed to put out his cigarette for the whole eating thing to be effective. "She sends it by way of swearing, but there's love there too."
Roy smiled around a strip of bacon. "What time are she and Sheska getting here?"
"In a few hours. After they finish with wedding things."
"Shouldn't you be helping them with wedding things?"
"Hey man, I tried." Jean slathered his toast with butter before continuing. "Unfortunately milady wasn't too keen on my suggestion that the flower girl scatter bullets down the aisle instead of rose petals."
Upon hearing that, Roy nearly choked on his coffee. "I can see why you've been banned. Bullets? Seriously?"
"I thought it would be cute."
"I don't think you fully understand the definition of cute."
"That's exactly what Maes—" Jean cringed. "Shit. Shit. I'm sorry, Roy. I didn't mean to just…"
"… mention the father of the flower girl?" Roy concluded, both to spare his friend the pain of verbalizing his horror and to say the words for himself, the first of many, many instances in which he would need to confront the harsh reality of his situation.
It actually hadn't occurred to him until Jean's slip-up that Elysia was the flower girl in question. He wasn't too surprised, however; it wasn't as if Jean or Riza knew an overabundance of little girls as far as he knew. Nor had he ever expected the couple to terminate their friendship with Maes altogether because of what happened. After the drama that unfolded when Maes and Riza slept together all those years ago, Roy learned firsthand the intricacies of maintaining relationships with two people dear to him who, for a time, couldn't stand being around each other. Taking sides was never an option. What kind of man would he be if he got upset with his friends for doing the same?
He set his fork down, having lost a fair chunk of his appetite. "Don't tiptoe around it, Jean," he began, his voice and expression solemn. "Not on my account. This is your wedding. It's not about me or him or anything except you and Riza. I'll be fine."
Jean lit a cigarette. His appetite had also taken a breather. "Really?" he asked worriedly.
"Really," Roy insisted.
I hope, he thought.
"You would tell me if you weren't fine?"
Probably not. "Absolutely."
Jean cocked his head and exhaled a stream of smoke. "You're a shitty liar."
"Yeah, but I try."
Smiling, Roy picked up his fork and resumed eating because it was a shame to let bacon go to waste. They spent the next ten minutes talking about times past, specifically the joys and terrors of their teenage years. Roy appreciated Jean's attempts at omitting Maes from his recollections, but seeing as how a good chunk of those years were spent partying at his parents' house, it was hard not to include him.
"I always thought that Sheska and Breda would make a good couple when she wasn't throwing up all over him," Roy said between sips of coffee. He thought back fondly to the big guy's casual acceptance of his relationship with Maes. "He was all right."
With a renewed appreciation for his bacon (after Roy tried and failed to take it), Jean replied, "He still is. But I think she's way more into books than guys."
"Can't say that I blame her."
"Maybe they're not so different, books and guys," Jean theorized as he stroked his goatee. "Sometimes you have to try a few before you find a really good one."
Roy chortled at Jean's words of wisdom. It was still hard for him to believe that this was the same guy whose primary ambitions in life had once been trying to sleep with any girl who would have him, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and, for a time, fawning over Ed's mom. "Maybe. I'm just not interested in doing too much 'reading' anymore."
"Four years in the Army and no one ever caught your eye?"
"Surrounded by hot guys in uniform every single day? I'm not blind, Jean. But…" Roy let out a long sigh. "I can't go through that again."
"All guys don't cheat, Roy."
"I know, but it's not just that," Roy said.
He wanted to elaborate, to explain the hesitation and reluctance he felt over the mere prospect of opening himself up to someone else again. Maes' unfaithfulness (and subsequent accidental fatherhood) was only a part of the whole tragedy. The worst part, granted. But for someone who hadn't been too close to many people to begin with, it was the loss of the friendship that was like so much salt in a gaping wound. Given his upbringing, Roy had hardly been one to let people in, and being betrayed by one of those special few, the most special of them all, hurt like fucking hell. Countless were the times over the years when Roy had seen or heard a thing, and the first thought that came to mind was how Maes would have reacted to said thing. He mourned the loss of his boyfriend. But he mourned the loss of his best friend just as much, if not a little bit more.
"Anyway…" Roy set the coffee cup down, signaling the end of breakfast and that particular topic. "I don't want to spend my last few hours of peace and quiet talking about him."
They cleared the table and went into the living room. Roy barely had time to move the neatly folded bedding before Jean sat down on it, and he playfully admonished his friend for nearly leaving his "ass stank" all over the blanket he had to use again.
"Hey, my ass is clean enough to eat off," Jean proudly stated.
"I'll leave that to Riza," Roy replied, earning him a punch on the arm.
"Well, if you really want to know—"
"I really don't."
Jean laughed and stood up. "Be right back."
Roy grabbed the TV remote and flipped through the channels while Jean disappeared into his bedroom. He was still surfing when the other man returned a minute later with a clear plastic storage box that was unceremoniously dropped onto his lap. "Hey, watch the junk."
"I'd rather not. I'm sure it's lovely junk, though."
Roy beaned him with the remote and shook his head. For as much as his existence had been altered by events of the past, he was pleased to know that his and Jean's ability to be smartasses to each other hadn't changed at all. And he hoped it never would.
He popped off the box lid and stared thoughtfully at the contents within as Jean's attention was captured by a program in which contestants were risking life and limb to run through convoluted obstacle courses. There was his glove, a crude creation meant to start fires with a snap of the fingers. He might have contemplated it longer if not for the memories it brought forth, like the time Maes tried to use it and almost set himself on fire, which was funnier than it probably should have been at the time. He pushed it out of the way and found a collection of embarrassing signs that Ed had stuck on his back during his babysitting days, from accusations of booger eating to butt picking and anything else the brat had thought of to vex Roy. (Equally vexing to him was the fact that he had fallen for the damned trick every single time.) Next was the Optimus Prime that Ed had graciously allowed Roy to borrow the very same night that he sneakily taped the booger sign on his back. No matter how many times Roy had attempted to give it back, Ed refused to take it and demanded that he try again later. He wondered if four years was finally later enough.
And underneath all of that was the single blue tulip that Ed had salvaged after the garden he and Russell worked so hard on was destroyed by twin terrors, immortalized via lamination thanks to Sheska's ingenuity. He remembered with perfect clarity the awfulness of that day, and even now his heart ached fiercely for the little boy who had clutched that flower in a tiny fist with so much sadness and determination while all hell broke loose around him.
Roy ran a single digit along the stem, reflecting. That was also the same day he and Maes had gotten into their first real fight, and yet… oddly enough the thought didn't sting all that much right now. Maybe it was because he was too preoccupied thinking about Ed, who was the reason they had fought in the first place. Maes had often joked that the boy was more important to Roy than anyone else. Or at least Roy thought he was joking. But what of it? All of the times that Maes had expressed (or feigned) jealousy over Ed amounted to precisely shit after what he did.
Although he had intended to surprise the teen tomorrow with a carefully planned "impromptu" visit, Roy felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to talk to him sooner than that.
Much sooner.
"Hey, Havoc. I need to use your phone."
xxXXxx
Ed knew that he should have been doing something more productive than sitting on his ass at his desk and impatiently drumming an unknown beat with automail fingers. There was homework that still needed to be done, but even tripping over his stupid backpack wasn't enough of an inspiration to get started on it. He could have done something nice for his mother to surprise her when she returned from spending the day with Russell's dad. Maybe he would start a load of laundry. Later.
Al was presently getting dolled up to visit Winry and had invited him to tag along. Ed declined the invitation in typical Ed fashion: with more profanity than some people used in their entire lives. He was genuinely happy for his little brother, but the last thing he wanted to do was twiddle his thumbs while the boy made goo-goo eyes at Winry. (There was also the small matter of having been bonked on the head with a wrench the last time he accompanied Al because he hadn't been able to resist poking fun at the couple.) No, better to sit there and wait. Not that he was waiting, because he most certainly wasn't.
He glanced at the picture of the man he most certainly wasn't waiting for. Although it had arrived tucked inside a Christmas card addressed to the Elric family, Trisha and Al had remained suspiciously quiet when it disappeared from the living room and ended up on Ed's dresser. Roy's handsome face betrayed no emotion, but even that was light years better than the last time Ed saw him in person, the day Roy had come over to say goodbye. He had never felt so helpless, seeing the one he loved hurting so much. It had taken all of his twelve-year-old willpower not to break down because the last thing Roy needed was to see Ed cry when he was dealing with the break-up with Maes. Stupid fucking Maes with his stupid fucking cowlick who hadn't been able to keep it in his stupid fucking pants. If Ed ever saw him again, he thought he might very well punch him in his stupid fucking mouth.
Opening his desk drawer, Ed's golden eyes scanned the contents. Junk, junk, more junk, a couple of rocks from Al (who thankfully grew out of that habit when puberty kicked in), and Roy's letters. There weren't many, but Ed had saved them all; he hadn't even been able to bear parting with the envelopes that originally contained them. He decided to read them for the millionth time, even though he knew each one by heart. Just to pass the time and help make all the waiting he most certainly wasn't doing go by faster. But before he could reach in and grab them, Al came barging into his room, because apparently that's what little brothers who were about to get cursed out did whenever they felt like it.
"Phone's for you," Al announced, breathless from sprinting up the stairs.
Ed had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard the telephone ring. "Who is it?"
Could it be?
"Russell," Al told him.
It wasn't.
"Oh." Ed didn't bother trying to hide his disappointment. "Okay."
He took his time going down the stairs. Al followed, smelling of the cologne that Hohenheim helped him pick out during one of their male bonding outings. Ed wanted to hate the scent on principle but the bastard actually had pretty good taste. Not that it made up for being the world's shittiest father. (At least in Ed's opinion, whereas Al didn't seem to have any complaints because he was too sweet for his own good.)
"What the hell do you want?" he barked into the phone—his standard greeting for Russell.
Ed's heart faltered when he heard a snort and a chuckle on the other end of the line, still familiar even after not having heard it for four years. He looked with wide, fearful, hopeful eyes to Al, whose smile was simultaneously wicked and adorable.
"Did I say Russell? I meant Roy. They both start with R so I guess I got mixed up."
Al bolted from the room, his evil cackling eerily reminiscent of a boy from long ago whose sole purpose for being was traumatizing poor, defenseless babysitters.
Ed was entirely too stunned to be pissed. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his legs had turned to jelly. The phone was still to his ear, and although it took a moment, he finally managed to utter a weak and shaky, "Hello?"
"Hi, Ed." Roy's amusement was obvious judging by the sound of his voice. "How have you been?"
TBC