A New Adventure
Chapter 3
Ed kept his word and started the laundry for his mother shortly after he got off the phone with Roy. (He even went so far as to sort the clothes even though he didn't see the point in doing it.) Not because he necessarily wanted to but because he felt that he needed to focus on something mundane to keep from exploding with happiness. Or hollering or doing cartwheels or any of the other potentially embarrassing things one did when vastly overjoyed. An hour later, he was still down in the basement listening to the weirdly soothing sounds of the washer and dryer and still replaying the brief conversation with Roy in his mind. Every word, every chuckle, every pause, every single moment that was four years in the making and well worth the wait.
He was also still smiling. The laundry would be done long before that went away.
After starting the conversation on such an unintentionally rude note—something Al would pay dearly for in the near future—Ed had regained enough composure to keep his shit together, or at least sound like it. He answered most of Roy's questions with the standard male teen reply of as few syllables as possible, although in his case it was out of a true fear of babbling like a lovesick dork as opposed to vocal laziness. That was, until Roy asked the question that nearly resulted in a stopped heart and an audible whimper, the question that was the culprit behind Ed's never-ending smile:
Do you mind if I come over tomorrow to see you?
To see you.
To see you.
Not Al. Not their mother. But—
"Me," Ed whispered, smiling even more and dangerously close to swooning.
Obviously Roy would want to see the rest of the family as well, and Ed reluctantly resigned himself to sharing him with them. But the phrasing elated the teen beyond words, and it had taken a moment for him to manage a supposedly calm, cool, and collected "sure" like it was no big deal.
But oh, how big of a deal it was.
The biggest of all deals, ever.
While absentmindedly—and rather half-assedly—folding a load of shirts, he let an assortment of fantasies overtake him. Since it was daylight, he kept to the good fantasies, the grotesquely sweet fantasies he would take to his grave, ones that involved grand, heartfelt declarations and gestures of love. He would save the more… mature… fantasies for nighttime, the ones in which Roy's gestures of love were a lot more hands on. And mouth on. And—
"Earth to Edward."
Ed spun around, his little brother's shirt clutched in an automail fist. The sight of his mother at the foot of the basement stairs was enough to instantly dampen whatever might have arisen from his more deviant thoughts of Roy.
"Hi, Mom," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you. I was just so fascinated by the laundry."
Trisha Elric laughed heartily at her son's blatant lie. "It is rather thrilling, isn't it? You can start doing it more often if it pleases you so much."
"I wouldn't dream of taking that away from you," Ed replied with mock sincerity.
"I'm so lucky to have such a selfless son."
"I do what I can. No need to thank me."
Rolling her eyes, Trisha asked, "So why are you really in such high spirits?" The answer soon became clear upon seeing her son's smile grow impossibly wider. "He called?"
Ed tried to stop smiling so much but his lips were determined to betray him. He tossed Al's shirt onto a pile of somewhat neatly folded clothes and leaned back against the dryer. "He called," he confirmed.
Now it was Trisha's turn to be overjoyed. "When did he get back? Where is he staying? How is he? How did he sound?"
"He got back yesterday," Ed began when the barrage of questions tapered off. "He's staying with his friend, Jean."
"The smoker with the wild hair, the one getting married, right?"
Ed chortled at his mother's description. "That's the one. Anyway, he sounded…"
The teen tried to think of something proper since sexy as fuck wasn't exactly appropriate. Moreover, she was actually inquiring as to whether or not Roy was okay emotionally. He certainly wasn't the last time they saw him.
"We didn't talk long," he tried again. "But he sounded good. I guess we'll find out for sure tomorrow when he comes over."
Trisha smiled knowingly. "I guess we will."
She crossed the basement toward her firstborn, long brown hair flowing, and looking simultaneously simple and resplendent in a floral print dress of her own making, with an aura of happiness that was no longer manufactured since she stopped pretending to love a man she couldn't stand because she thought it would make her sons happy. When she reached Ed, she planted a kiss on his forehead.
"Will you be okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with the faintest trace of worry. "No matter what happens?"
For the first time since talking to Roy, Ed's smile faltered ever so slightly. His gaze fell briefly to the floor, whereupon he glanced at his mother's perfect pink toenails that poked out from her sandals. He couldn't recall ever seeing her wear any sort of nail polish at all when she was married to Hohenheim.
So much of Ed's life revolved around his affection for his former babysitter. He had never wanted anyone else; aside from one night of desperate teenage fumbling with his best friend, all Ed had ever wanted was Roy. Was he expecting Roy to take one look at him and fall madly in love? Of course not. (Although it would be nice.)
So what, exactly, did he think was going to happen?
"I don't know, Mom," he admitted, answering her question as well as his own.
He glanced up and found a warm and loving smile waiting for him. Another thing that Ed couldn't recall about his mother was suspecting, even for a moment, that she didn't accept him for having feelings for a man. He knew that there were hundreds of teenagers out there who weren't nearly as fortunate to have a parent so indifferent to their child's sexual orientation. For Ed, there had never been a great "coming out" of the closet because he had never been "in" one in the first place.
He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. And then he scrunched his nose because he was still Edward Elric and therefore obligated to be a bit of a brat.
"I'm going to start dinner," Trisha announced, giving his hair a tug before retreating.
Ed turned back to the laundry and picked up Al's shirt. Remembering what his little brother did, he called out to his mother as she headed up the basement steps. "Just so you know, I'm going to kill Al."
"Can you do it after dinner? If not, there's going to be leftovers for days."
Ed laughed. His mother was a practical woman, if nothing else. "Fine."
"Thank you, honey."
"You're welcome."
He resumed folding, smiling, and counting down the far too many hours left between now and tomorrow.
xxXXxx
Between Sheska's screams of joy and her busty embrace, Roy had no choice but to accept the inevitability of tinnitus and suffocation. Oh well. It was a small price to pay for seeing his friend after so long.
After what felt like a thousand years, she finally released him from the death trap of her arms. He regarded her fondly and found her to be just as adorable as ever. But before he could tell her as much, he was snatched into yet another embrace that was not quite so restrictive on the lungs… although the sharp jab to his side didn't help.
"Ouch! What the hell?"
"Serves you right," Riza muttered as she let go of him, one hand still clenched in a fist. "Four goddamn years and you couldn't keep in touch?"
"I did keep in touch," Roy insisted, rubbing his sore side. "I called Jean at least once a month."
"Like a period," Sheska loudly pointed out for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Classic Sheska.
"He doesn't count," Riza said after side-eyeing her maid of honor.
Jean was comically offended. "Hey!"
"You didn't keep in touch with me," Riza corrected.
Roy had no excuse for that, and probably would have suffered another assault had he tried to concoct one. "I'm sorry."
"You should be. Don't let it happen again."
Riza kissed him on the cheek and then smacked it for good measure. She and Sheska disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Roy and Jean alone in the living room.
"I guess I got off easy," Roy observed with a sigh of relief.
"Speaking of getting off easy—"
"Jean, if you say something gross about you and Riza, I swear to God I will set you on fire."
"Never mind."
xxXXxx
They spent the next few hours as they had so many times back in the day, camped out in the living room with a stack of pizzas and a seemingly endless supply of booze. Roy regaled them with some of his more colorful tales of Army life while Sheska, who swore she wouldn't get drunk while drunkenly cracking open her fifth beer, discussed the glamorous life of a single librarian.
"Vibrators," she declared suddenly with a slur. "I have a lot of those. A lot."
"So what, you check those out like you do with books?" Roy asked.
"Like a vibrator library," Jean said, lighting a cigarette.
"A vi-brary," Riza suggested.
They all got a kick out of that. When the laughter died down, Sheska got up, stumbled over to the chair where Roy was sitting, and plopped down onto his lap. She hadn't puked yet and her bra was still on, so all in all, she was doing well. Still, Roy curled an arm around his friend's waist to keep her steady while trying to ignore the two vast protrusions staring him in the face.
"Roy?"
"Yeah?"
Sheska's eyes, although somewhat hazed over in inebriation, were wide and sorrowful behind her round glasses. "I'm really sorry about you and Maes."
Roy smiled grimly. It was the first mention of Maes all night. Had to happen sooner or later.
"Thanks, Sheska," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry, too."
He meant to say more, some sort of inspirational crap to reassure his friends that he would persevere, but a very loud, very alarming rumble emanated from deep within Sheska's stomach, sparing him the inconvenience and putting them all on high alert. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her expression now more surprise than sorrow.
"Okay, let's not spew all over my living room," Jean said as he rose to his feet.
"Or me," Roy added, cringing and squeezing his eyes shut against an impending vomit tsunami.
Jean barely got her to the bathroom in time. Roy and Riza exchanged horrified glances as their dear friend unloaded her stomach's contents into the toilet.
"Just like old times," Riza said. When the retching became too much, she added, "Come on, let's go outside."
They each grabbed a beer and went out onto the patio. Riza lit the fire pit and sat down beside Roy.
"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.
Roy took a swig of his beer. He still wasn't a fan of the stuff but any port in a storm. "Look for a job. Or maybe go back to school—"
"That's not what I'm talking about."
"I know." Roy took a deep breath. "I don't know."
"Jean told you about Elysia being in the ceremony?"
"Yeah. So I assume he'll be around for a lot of the pre-wedding stuff, too."
Riza shook her head. "Actually, it'll mostly be Gracia since she's the one who has primary custody, or whatever the hell they call it."
Roy's jaw clenched at the sound of her name. Gracia, who fawned all over Maes in high school and baked him goddamn pies and eventually fucked him. He didn't even realize that he was squeezing his beer can hard enough to dent it until Riza touched his hand.
"Look, Roy. She didn't know about you. Not until after."
"… What?"
"Maes never told her that the two of you were together," Riza explained. "She never would have slept with him if she had known that. Believe it or not, she hates him just as much as you do for being a dishonest fuck."
Roy blinked rapidly into space, trying to process everything Riza had just told him. The shock of the revelation numbed him far more than any amount of alcohol he had consumed that day. "Why didn't…"
"… anyone tell you?" Riza finished for him. "You weren't listening to much of anything else Maes had to say after he told you what he did. Me, I was just too worried about you to care about preserving her honor. Then after you left… I know it's something you and Jean never talked about." She took his hand and held it tightly. "None of this changes the fact that Maes is an asshole for cheating on you. For hurting you. And it's partly my fault and I'm sorry."
"What are you talking about? How is it partly your fault?"
"That day… at his parents' house… when we played Spin the Bottle and I made the two of you kiss. If you had never gotten together that night, you never would have gone through all that bullshit."
Roy turned to his friend. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jean approach the doorway that led to the patio but then wisely back off when he spotted his best friend and fiancé engaged in such a clearly serious discussion.
"Riza," he started, never letting go of her hand. "You didn't make Maes sleep with Gracia. I'm thankful to you for bringing us together. And as much as the past four years have really fucking sucked, I don't regret being with him. I don't regret it at all."
With a grateful smile, Riza leaned her head against Roy's shoulder. They stared at the fire in silence for a time, until Riza suggested that they go back inside and keep Jean company since Sheska, in keeping with tradition, had most likely passed out.
"Pretty soon he'll get to have you forever," Roy said, slinging his arm around her. "I just want a few more minutes."
"You're right," Riza agreed. "Fuck him."
"I'll leave that to you."
xxXXxx
Sunday afternoon was a bright and beautiful day, warm with some winds, and not a hint of darkness in the clouds overhead. Not that Ed cared to appreciate such a wonder of nature, not when he was sitting in the living room and pretending to watch what was on television (some reality program that didn't seem all that real) while not so conspicuously craning his neck at each and every sound outside in the hopes that it was a car. His mother was busying herself in the kitchen, preparing a late lunch for Roy, and Al was upstairs, on the phone with Winry.
His right foot was going a mile a minute, much like his heartbeat. He wondered for the millionth time if he looked okay, and then admonished himself for worrying so much about his appearance, and then admonished himself even more for attempting not to care enough about such an important event. After spending a good chunk of the morning agonizing over each detail—long sleeves or short, denim or leather, boots or sneakers, hair up or down—he settled on an ensemble (boots, black jeans, and sleeveless black T-shirt) that hopefully showcased his ascent into adulthood. And his ass. Because that was pretty nice, or so he thought.
He ran his hand over loose, freshly-washed hair and then over his face as someone on the TV yammered on about something unimportant. The sound of a loud growl cut through his thoughts, but that was hardly surprising since he hadn't eaten in hours. Except…
Ed sat up with a bolt. The growl was coming from outside and getting louder by the second.
It was a car.
He resisted the overwhelming urge to run over to the window and look outside. "Calm the fuck down, jackass," he said to himself in a voice that was anything but.
Fortunately, Trisha came out of the kitchen, saw her son glued to the couch, and went to the door. "Alphonse!" she called to the ceiling, summoning her youngest child.
By the time Ed managed to stand up, Al was downstairs and waiting with his mother by the door. Roy scarcely had a chance to knock before they flung the door open, pulled him inside, and pounced.
xxXXxx
Once again, Roy could hardly breathe for being bombarded by hugs, Elric hugs this time. He returned the favor as much as he could before giving himself up to the love of the closest thing he'd ever had to a family of his own.
"Oh, Roy," Trisha said with tears in her eyes. "Welcome home."
Roy leaned into the soft hand that pressed against his cheek. The woman was still as lovely as ever, inside and out. And as for Al…
"Oh my God. Look at you."
"Yeah, I know I'm a stud."
"All right, stud," Trisha said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away. "Help me get lunch on the table."
If anything else was said by either of them after that, Roy did not hear it. He was completely distracted… transfixed… by the person standing across the room. For as much as he had tried to imagine what Ed would look like all grown up, his best guesses did no justice whatsoever to the young man who was now timidly walking over to him.
Kid's gonna grow up to be a looker, Maes had once said.
And holy shit, was he right.
"Hey there," Roy said softly, unable to take his eyes off Ed's.
"Hey."
Ed offered his right hand, then his left, and settled for a shrug. It was awkward and precious. Roy took the lead and hugged him, hugged him fiercely, noting with some amusement that Ed's head ended in the vicinity of his upper chest and no higher.
"I can't believe you're finally here," Ed murmured into Roy's shirt.
"I know," Roy said, ignoring the tickle of the cowlick against his chin. "We have a lot of catching up to do."
"Can you do it after we eat?" Al asked impatiently from the kitchen doorway. "I'm starving."
"Eat this," Ed snarled at this brother while flipping him off.
Roy pulled away from Ed—with more reluctance than he was willing to admit—and grinned as Ed bickered with his brother all the way into the kitchen.
Some things never changed.