A/N: I got done with the chapter much, much sooner than expected. I was just sitting there in my sleep-deprived daze plugging away at it when suddenly WHOOSH, I was done. It was so abrupt, I had to just sit there blinking for a few minutes and wondering where the hell this chapter even came from. Was it chapter fairies, ninjas, maybe aliens with mind-control capabilities? It could just be part of the cockroaches evil plot to take over the world, but I doubt it. I don't think they're anime fans.

Fun bit of trivia, the punch speed mentioned in the chapter is actually the recorded speed for a jab by Ricky "The Hitman" Hatton, a former British welterweight champ. I thought it would be appropriate. I also discovered that the fastest recorded punch is just under 44mph, if you can believe it. Can you say "ow"? Another fun fact: the science behind a punch is remarkably complicated. The measurements are simple enough: force per unit of impact area (it's shown as pounds per square inch). Where it goes pear-shaped is that impact area varies based on the contours of the contacted surface and a long laundry-list of other conditions. Way too many variables in the end, so usually when they look at punches they look at the force applied rather than the pressure of the impact. Yay, the science of violence! ^.^

Chapter 12

Late Nite Action

"Oh my God, are you all right? I didn't think I'd hit you that hard," fussed Al, lifting his brother's bruised face to the light.

"I'm fine Al," said Ed with that smile that he only ever gave to Al, a smile that hid nothing and everything. "I already put ice on it, and I took something to bring down the swelling. It's not like it's broken or dislocated. It's fine."

"It's not fine. I never should have said what I did," said Al, radiating remorse and unhappiness. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it-"

"No, Al, you were right," said Ed, his voice becoming quiet again, as if the effort to push out those words was almost too great for him. "You don't need to apologize."

"Oh, Brother, don't do this to yourself," said Al, all but whispering as tears gathered in his eyes. "I should never have said something like that to you. I knew how badly you'd take it, and I know you eat yourself alive with guilt. I know how you are. Nobody is as hard on you for your choices as you are."

"Enough Al, we can discuss it later," said Ed sternly. "Have you been eating right? Sleeping properly? I know you've been skipping classes, and don't think for a second that you're off the hook for that. I've already talked to your teachers and explained the situation to them. They said they won't dock your points for the unexcused absences if you do the list of assignments they gave me to pass on to you. And there's an extra credit assignment that will make up for the exam you missed. I told them that it may be a few more days before it's safe for you to return to class, and they said that's fine as long as you continue to keep in touch with them."

"Oh, Ed, do I even want to know what you said to them to get them to give me so many concessions?" asked Al, his expression somewhere between love and exasperation.

"I just told them about the break-ins and that the cops think it might be people coming after my research and that there's a risk to your safety so you'll be laying low," explained Ed, waving off the implied accusation. "It's all true. I didn't even curse. I just laid it out and left the rest up to their imaginations. The guy who skipped school has no fucking room to complain."

"You're right, Brother, I'm sorry," said Al, once again repentant. "I shouldn't have put you in a position where you had to cover for me. I'm just relieved you didn't bully them like you did the high school gym teacher."

"He was a pervert!" protested Ed defensively. "And I'm not the one who put the French teacher in therapy. I wound up having to take Spanish because when I was signing up for the language classes, the counselor said that Ms. Alberts couldn't hear the name Elric without having a panic attack."

"She put herself in therapy. She should have known better than to flap her gums," said Al dismissively. "And what about Mr. Peterson? I don't think his eyebrows ever did grow back properly, and that was all on you."

"But Mr. Halder was all on you, little brother," said Ed, lifting an accusing eyebrow toward Al. "He has a nervous tick now. He even retired early."

"I get the feeling that your high school transcripts will read like the Devil's résumé," said Riza, shaking her head with a sigh. "I'm a little surprised that you got into so much trouble yet still managed to get into college and be considered respected scientists."

"There's a long, distinguished history of brilliant scientists who made trouble in school," said Al and both Elrics shrugged.

"It's the 'brilliant' that makes them act out," said Ed, and Al nodded his agreement. "I mean, think about it. Every lesson is boring and you don't have much social interaction to distract you and the teachers and students are resentful and confrontational. Add into that teenage hormones and moodiness and you get a perfect fucking storm for shit-stirring. Most of the famous geniuses throughout history have also been troublemakers and rebels."

"You also have to consider the correlation between genius and mental illness," put in Al and Ed reluctantly concurred. "If you examine the geniuses of the past, you'll notice that in those with higher IQ's, there's a startling preponderance of mental health issues. Some of the smartest men in the world suffered from clinical depression, bipolar disorder, borderlines personality disorder, schizophrenia, and the list goes on. It's common for those who suffer from mental illness since early childhood to be seen as 'acting out' because the adults aren't yet aware that the child is actually not fully in control of their behavior. Which is not to say that Ed and I suffer from mental illness . . . well, not the sort that's caused by chemical imbalance or anything. I mean, Ed has PTSD, but that's just the car thing. And I suppose there might be some separation anxiety, considering the whole orphan thing and-"

"Al, you can stop talking now," said Ed, putting a hand over his brother's mouth. "I told you taking those psychology classes would rot your brain."

"I guess you could say we're not crazy, just resistant," said Al with a helpless shrug.

"Not really rebellious," said Ed, thinking it over. "It's more like, when your teacher is in your face trying to call you a liar because you proved him wrong in front of everybody, what else are you going to do? When you're too smart you get one of three reactions. People either resent you, try to use you, or put you on a pedestal."

"You either learn to pretend to be dumber than you are to please people or you learn to put up walls to keep people away," said Al, and he and Ed exchanged a significant look. It was a pretty fair description of the Elric brother's behavior, and a pretty accurate explanation of Roy's own high school career. He'd learned in junior high that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, so by the time he hit high school he had a strategy in place for getting through it without anyone knowing that he was more interested in physics and chemistry than football and cars. Only his few close friends knew that he rarely struggled in his classes. He schmoozed his way into every social circle and was considered a king among commoners by many. It wasn't until halfway through his Poly Sci degree that he'd decided he no longer cared who he impressed. And perhaps that made Ed that much more admirable. He had never cared who he impressed, and that took a lot of guts.

"But, all that aside, I know you came back for a reason," said Ed leveling a hard-eyed stare on his little brother. "You know you can't hide anything from me. Spill it, Al."

Al heaved a huge sigh and sat down heavily on the couch. Ed did the same, crooking one knee so that he could turn to face his brother. Riza and Roy could only hunker back down too. "Let me start by saying, I'm not going to make you talk to dad. That's your choice. But I need you to please hear what I have to say, and really think about it, before you dismiss it. That's all I'm asking." He looked his brother in the eye until Ed finally gave a grudging nod. "Dad doesn't want to tell me what he needs from you. He said it's better if I don't know, for my own protection. He doesn't want to have to involve you either, but he says that you have more right to protect me than he does. You deserve to choose whether you want to help him do whatever it is he has planned, and he has a better chance of success with your help. I think he believes he might have a way to get those Ouroboros bastards off of our backs, but I haven't been able to find out if that's actually what he's really doing or not. He's cagier than you are, Ed. So, just keep that in mind when you think about whether or not to talk to him, okay?"

It was clear that Ed wanted to shrug off the offer and continue to ignore his father, however the need to protect his brother placed its own demands on him that had nothing to do with his own wishes. "I'll think about," growled Ed at last. "Are you staying here tonight?" asked Ed, his eyes silently pleading with Al. With a visible effort, Al looked away and shook his head slowly. Ed leaned away from his brother, as if intentionally creating space between them. "Okay then, but you should grab some clean clothes, and your toiletries. I don't think you should go another day without your toothbrush and deodorant. You're starting to smell like a hobo and your breath seriously reeks."

"Brother!" protested Al, scandalized but laughing as he playfully slapped his brother's arm. "You're such a jerk."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way," said Ed, and Al grinned at him. "But seriously, remember to grab your coat. It's going to rain I think – that or the temperature is about to drop."

"Oh my! Brother, have you taken any medicine yet?" asked Al, inexplicably concerned.

"Not yet," said Ed, shaking his head. "I'll have to go to bed before too much longer since I have an early day tomorrow. I'll take it when I go to bed."

"All right," said Al, not satisfied but willing to relent. "Roy could I talk to you while I pack?"

"Sure," replied Roy, getting to his feet to follow Al up the stairs.

For the first minute, Al simply bustled around the room, removing items from his duffle bag and replacing them with others. It almost felt as if he was trying to decide what to say – or maybe how to say it. "I guess I don't have to tell you to watch out for Ed while I'm gone," began Al at last, slowing in his packing. "If the weather is getting bad, he's going to be in a lot of pain. The automail is so hard on him, but it's always worse when the weather is bad. He gets colder easier than you or me, because two chunks of metal can't be expected to keep anybody warm. And all that metal is attached to bone, so of course it'll hurt like blazes once it's cold enough. If it gets too bad, you can call Winry. She'll know what to do." He stopped moving a moment and sighed then turned around to sit on the edge of the bed. "Please, I need you to promise me that . . . you'll make sure Brother doesn't do anything stupid. Sometimes I think he has a screw loose when it comes to me, because he goes above and beyond to keep me safe, keep me happy. He pushes too hard and ends up hurt, but never once blames me for any of it or resents me for making his sacrifices necessary. So I know that it's entirely possible that he'd willingly do something really reckless if it means keeping me safe from these people. Brother can defend himself when push comes to shove, so you don't need to worry about that part. The thing you need to worry about is protecting him from himself." Al sighed again and got to his feet to resume packing. "I swear, he forgets to eat, forgets to sleep, forgets his automail maintenance – I'm surprised he remembers to brush his teeth every day. That's why I've never been comfortable leaving him on his own. I'm afraid I'd come back to visit to find him passed out on the floor, unable to remember the last meal he had. I'm trusting you to see to it that it doesn't come to that. Brother can take care of everybody but himself, so that leaves the rest of us to pick up that slack. I'll have my hands full keeping an eye on Dad, because he's no better at taking care of himself than Ed. I guess Ed inherited that along with Dad's looks. Just don't tell Brother I said that – unless you want to eat through a straw for a while."

"I promise I'll watch over Ed," said Roy earnestly when Al finally ran out of words. "You don't even have to ask. And it won't just be me watching out for him. All of my friends are wrapped around his little finger now. They'd never let anything happen to him if they could help it."

"That's good then," said Al – almost more to himself than to Roy. "And don't let that idiot fret too much. I know how he gets. Anytime I'm away for more than a day, he turns into an anxious old woman. He better enjoy his hair now, because at this rate he's going to end up bald sooner rather than later."

"I'll still adore him, even if he's bald," said Roy, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. He left Al to finish gathering his stuff and returned to Riza and Ed downstairs. Al came down not long after, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. When Ed got up, Al set his duffle bag on the floor and the brothers shared a strong hug, their deep bond and reluctance to part clearer than ever in that moment.

"Just remember, the hotel isn't far, so I'm only a phone call away," said Al as they separated. "Did you pack the heating pads when we got our stuff from the apartment?"

"Nah, I didn't, but I can make do," Ed reassured him and Al nodded.

"Take care of yourself, and stay warm," Al admonished him gently. "I don't want to come back and find out you've gotten frost bite around your ports again because you were being stubborn. I'll try to come see you when I can. Maybe lunch at the lab?"

"Sure Al, sounds good," said Ed, putting up a cheerful front. None of them believed it for a minute, but they couldn't help but admire the sheer tenacity necessary for Ed to smile at his brother in that moment. He would always be strong for his brother, no matter what.

Once Al had left, Riza resumed her mission of distracting Ed, keeping his mind off of his concern for his brother. She drew him into working through the details of the profiles on the people he had earmarked as thugs working for Ouroboros. There were only four men, including Frank Archer, and one woman. Of course, Ed had the most details on Archer. The other four were what Ed jokingly called "button men", since, like the mob's hitmen who shared the same title, these were people that Ouroboros used for odd jobs – like breaking and entering, harassment, surveillance, and general . . . um, thugging – wait, "thugging" isn't a word. Whatever. Men who broke knee-caps for a living were a little outside of Roy's experience, so he was just going to roll with it.

Archer was bad enough news on his own, but those other four were worse. They had started out as soldiers, fighting in places like Iraq, Somalia, Kosovo, and Afghanistan. Two of them went AWOL, one was dishonorably discharged after serving time for war crimes, and the last one – the woman – was honorably discharged for "mental health reasons". Later they'd gone on to become mercenaries until taking on a permanent contract as "security" for Ouroboros. Roy just hoped he'd never have to tangle with any of them. The woman in particular had a special love for demolitions and dismemberment. Roy gave a mental shudder at the thought.

It was late when Riza finally left, and Ed and Roy were both more than ready to crawl into bed and sleep. It had been a long and trying day for both of them. Unfortunately, sleep was not meant to last. It seemed like no sooner had Roy fallen asleep than he found himself being shaken awake again rather insistently.

". . . ake up. Roy, wake up," Ed was whispering, shaking his shoulder. As soon as Roy's eyes began to flutter open, Ed put a hand over his mouth. "Shhh, stay calm. There's somebody in the house." Ed wasn't looking at Roy. He was watching the door, wary and tense. "I want you to go into the bathroom and call 9-1-1. Tell them we have two intruders, maybe more. May or may not be armed."

"And what will you be doing?" whispered Roy as soon as Ed had removed his hand. He asked because Ed was already getting out of bed and donning the house shoes they'd got for him to protect the floors from his automail foot.

"Kicking ass. What else?" replied Ed, his grin maniacal. How was it even possible to move across the room that silently with one metal leg – one very heavy metal leg? Were all of Roy's friends secretly ninjas? Or was it just Riza, Maes, and Ed – and maybe Al? What was it about Roy that drew ninjas to him? Setting aside his insane inner rambling, Roy made his careful way over to the master bathroom attached to his room, not even turning on the light once he'd closed the door. It meant sitting in total darkness, but the light of his phone was plenty to see by. And speaking of which, perhaps he ought to cover that up so there was no chance of that light showing through the crack under the door. Grabbing the bath towel hanging on the shower curtain rod, Roy draped it over his head and hands, sitting on the floor so his raised knees could help form a tent out of the towel. He dialed 9-1-1 and explained the situation to the dispatcher as quietly as he could, giving the woman the address.

She wanted him to stay on the line, but he needed to get out there and make sure Ed wasn't getting himself into more trouble than he could handle. He'd promised Al that he'd keep an eye on Ed, and he didn't intend to break that promise. Normally, Roy would never hang up on anybody – except maybe Maes, but that was usually the only way to get rid of the lunatic – but under the circumstances, he didn't feel especially obligated to be polite. Once he'd hung up, he left his phone and the towel on the bathroom floor then went back out into the bedroom.

He carefully opened the closet and brought down the riot gun that had once belonged to his father. Roy's dad had been in the military, so there had once been a number of weapons hidden in the house. Roy had gotten rid of all but the riot gun, and he only kept that because he could use rubber bullets rather than live ammunition. Making sure it was loaded, Roy went back into the bathroom to cock it so that the sound wouldn't carry beyond the bedroom. After all, Roy wanted their new little friends to be surprised. Maybe those crazy ninjas he called friends were rubbing off on him.

When Roy inched closer to the door, he began to hear loud noises out in the hall. There came an alarming crash followed by some even more alarming thuds then a long moment of silence. The brief lull was broken by a noise that sounded like it was half-curse, half-battle-cry in Ed's distinctive voice followed by yet more thudding, the noises moving away from the bedroom and heading downstairs. Roy opened the bedroom door slowly while remaining plastered to the wall beside the door until he was sure the hall was clear.

When he finally turned to walk out of the bedroom, he noticed a silent figure stalking along the opposite wall, heading for the library. Even in the dark, it was obvious this wasn't anybody Roy wanted wandering around his house – the black clothes and black ski mask were a dead giveaway – so Roy didn't bother to wait around for introductions before taking aim and firing. He hit the guy center mast, just as Riza had taught him, and the poor idiot hit the wall behind him hard then crumpled to the ground. Just to be on the safe side, Roy tip-toed over to him and hit him over the head with the butt of the gun – not hard enough to do serious brain damage but hard enough to knock him out for a good long while.

Ed rushed up the stairs. "What the hell was that?" he demanded. Roy grinned and set the gun on his shoulder.

"Riot gun," he answered casually. "Rubber bullets are a beautiful thing."

"Hells yeah!" exclaimed Ed, his maniacal grin blooming on his face again. They both heard a sound of groaning and a curse floating to them from downstairs. Ed held up a finger, " 'Scuse me a minute." Ed headed downstairs again, but this time, Roy was right behind him, a fresh round chambered and ready to fire.

At the bottom of the stairs, a third man was helping the first man to his feet, but Ed was having none of it. Ed suddenly grabbed the banister with one hand and vaulted over it to land in a defensive pose on the ground floor. The third guy abandoned his buddy and pulled a knife from his belt. Roy yelled at Ed to stay back, and tried to get to a better angle to fire on the knife-wielder with the riot gun. Roy didn't want Ed anywhere near that knife. Ed gave the knife a quizzical frown then grinned anew and lifted his hand to beckon to the guy. "Bring it," snorted Ed.

The guy accepted the challenge and leapt to the attack. Ed caught the knife's blade in his automail hand, and before the guy could think to let go, took advantage of the enemy's surprise and head-butted him. When the guy reeled back, thankfully releasing the knife, Ed spun into a brutal back kick with the automail leg that almost made Roy feel sorry for the bad guy. The spin had added momentum to what would have been a crippling blow all on its own, and the poor guy actually flew through the air a few feet, going ass over ankles over the back of the couch. The guy tried to pick himself up, but Ed was already heading for him, pausing long enough to punch the first guy in the head and knock him out. Once Ed reached his newest playmate, he brought his leg down in a vicious axe kick, and that was that.

"Good Lord, Ed, did you, Maes, and Riza go to the same ninja school?" asked Roy, eyes still wide in awe and disbelief. "I mean, damn . . ."

"Turn on the lights and let's get these guys tied up before they come to," said Ed, keeping his guard up as he stepped lightly around his victims.

"What are we going to tie them up with?" asked Roy, the more logical part of his mind taking over as some of the adrenaline faded. "I don't have any rope."

"Grab phone cords, extension cords, or, hell, even charger cables," answered Ed without hesitation. Ed was so calm about the whole thing, Roy would swear he'd done this sort of thing a hundred times. It actually helped steady Roy's jangled nerves, giving him confidence he wouldn't otherwise feel in such a situation. Ed just had that effect on people in general though. How could anybody be around somebody so bold and free-spirited and not feel a little bit braver by default?

They scrounged three phone cords and Roy's cell phone charger cable and proceeded to hog tie their three assailants – something else Ed was able to do with a rather startling proficiency. It was as they had begun to carry the upstairs guy downstairs to join his friends that they finally saw the flashing lights of police cars approaching the house. Roy breathed a long sigh of relief and went down to open the front door for the cavalry. Roy made sure to hold his hands up and give the cops enough time to see that he was not only unarmed but also a bit underdressed to be one of the bad guys then called out to them as they crossed the lawn, "Hey, I'm the homeowner. We've got the three guys subdued. Could you please come cart them off?"

Looking perplexed but still ready for action, the four cops that had jumped out of the two police cars entered the house, telling Roy to wait outside. However, it was a bit too cold to comply, so Roy walked back into the house to grab his coat off of the hook behind the door. It was then that he remembered how Ed was dressed. He'd been sleeping in his boxers when the whole thing started, and had barely taken the time to slip into a pair of sweats while they were hunting for things to tie up the assailants. Surely the police wouldn't make Ed stand out on the lawn in so little.

Apparently they would. A very disgruntled Ed was sent to join Roy, and Roy made sure to wrap his lover in the thickest, fluffiest jacket he had before the pair went to stand outside. "This sucks," grumbled Ed around a huge yawn. "I just hope these asshats don't take too long to figure out that there's nobody else in the house. I already did a room-by-room search. I told them the house is clear. But what do I know? I'm not the one with a badge and stick up my ass."

"Now Ed, it's not their fault," said Roy, though in truth the cold that hit them like a wall when they stepped outside was making him feel less charitable than he sounded. "They have to follow procedure. They have no way of knowing that the house already has its own badass guard dog."

"Woof," dead-panned Ed and Roy laughed, gathering Ed into his arms, for warmth as much as for affection.

It was in that precious respite, that Al suddenly ran up to them from out of nowhere, completely ignoring the officer in the driveway that was telling him to stop. The youngest Elric all but pounced on Roy and Ed, turning their embrace into a group hug. "Oh my God, are you two all right?" asked Al, sounding like he was close to tears. "I called to warn you! I even used our signal, so when I got no response I knew you were in trouble too!"

"Wait, 'too'? What happened Al, are you all right?" demanded Ed, pulling back so he could look at his brother.

"I'm fine except for a couple of bruises – mostly on my knuckles," said Al ruefully as he too pulled back. "Me and Dad were coming back from dinner when I noticed we had a tail. Dad drew them off and told me to run, but instead I waited until they were totally focused on Dad and caught them by surprise. I tied them up and called the cops then left dad to deal with the commotion so I could come check on you. So what happened here?"

"We had just crashed out for the night when I heard the phone go off. I was about to reply with the all clear signal when I heard somebody moving around downstairs," explained Ed, frowning toward the house. "I had Roy call the cops while I went to assess the situation. Since I only heard two people, I decided to take care of the pest problem. I didn't realize there was a third guy, but luckily, Roy went all Charles Bronson on the fucker. When did you become a badass?" he asked turning to Roy with a grin that promised a reward later for his bravery. Al just rolled his eyes at his brother. "Anyway, Roy took out the third guy with a riot gun, if you can fucking believe it. We tied up our friends in the gothy pajamas, and the rest is history. The cops just got here, so they've got us standing out here like twits, freezing our balls off."

One of the police officers finally exited the house, using the radio on his shoulder to call for an ambulance. "Are either of you injured?" asked the officer, and they both shook their heads.

"Not hurt, just cold as fuck. Can we go back in now?" asked Ed testily.

"Yeah, we can go inside to take your statement," said the officer with a sigh to express his irritation at Ed's tone. The officer led them in and sat them down in disused dining room.

All in all, the questioning this time lasted for about an hour, and a more uncomfortable hour Roy couldn't remember. The officer kept making sarcastic comments that made it obvious that he didn't believe Ed's account of the burglars' takedown. Given Ed's size, Roy supposed it was understandable that the officer would be at least a little skeptical, but as the questioning wore on, it became harder and harder for Al and Roy to keep Ed restrained. He was so sensitive about his height and appearance, and yet the officer was making it clear that he didn't believe that someone as short and pretty as Ed could have taken down two men that were nearly twice his size. Then the moron finally came out and said it. "I honestly don't see how someone so small could have injured two men to this extent. You're not protecting anybody by lying," said the officer.

Ed started to unleash one of his outbursts, but Al put a hand over his mouth to shut him up. "As we've already stated, my brother and I are mixed martial artists, and we've been training since childhood – OW! Ed!" The last was said because Ed had bitten Al's hand. Freed at last, Ed leapt from his sitting position to land atop the table in a crouch within an inch of the officer's face, his eyes boring into the man with such intensity that the poor fool almost fell out of his chair. Roy and the officer were equally stunned – Roy because he had no idea how somebody could make such a leap from a seated position, and the officer because he got caught in Ed's cobra-cold stare before he'd recovered his wits from seeing the impossible leap.

"What more do you fucking want from me?" snarled Ed. "I can give you the kinesthetic breakdown of the weak points I took advantage of, the precise trajectory of every punch and kick I landed, and the numerical value in pounds of how much force each blow required along with the pressure applied by contact with the targeted surface." He reached out and the officer actually flinched, but all Ed did was straighten the man's tie. "Have you ever been hit by an automail fist Officer . . ." he looked briefly at the officer's nametag, "Bennett? The force of it produces a pressure exponentially greater than what can be produced by a normal fist to the face. Just imagine," he said in an idly dangerous tone. Then he swung his right fist, stopping within centimeters of the officer's nose, "How do you think it feels to have a titanium alloy club coming at you at a velocity of approximately 11mps, which is to say 25mph? Let's just say, it ain't pretty." Ed rose to his feet with fluid grace so that he was standing on the table and looking down at the officer with obvious disdain. "Any more questions about my physical capabilities?" The officer simply shook his head slowly, the look on his face saying he wasn't about to even attempt to stick his foot any further in his mouth. Satisfied, Ed jumped down from the table and reclaimed his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Can we wrap this up soon? It's been a seriously long fucking day."

"Um, yeah, but it would be best if you went to stay with family or friends tonight," said the officer and when Ed turned his furious glare toward him he cringed. "You should be able to come back tomorrow! We'll call you as soon as it's safe to come back!" protested the officer quickly as Ed leaned toward him.

"Come on, let's go get dressed and pack some stuff for an overnight stay," Roy said, and Ed let out a wordless snarl but followed him upstairs. Al went with them, hovering close to his brother like a bodyguard. "It'll be fine," Roy reassured Ed. "We can go stay with Maes and Gracia tonight. They have a guest room. I've stayed with them before and they love having visitors. Besides, Gracia makes awesome pancakes." He wisely kept to himself that the reason that Maes loved having visitors was that it meant he could show off his gallery of Elysia and Gracia pictures. At the very least, the word "pancakes" should be enough to penetrate Ed's bad mood and sell him on the impromptu sleepover. "What do you say?"

"Sure, as long as there's a bed and a fucking heater," grumbled Ed grudgingly.

"Good," said Roy, kissing the top of his head.

"I'll pack your stuff for tonight, Brother," offered Al while Ed was pulling something to wear out of his bag in the spare room. "Tomorrow's your long day right? So, I'll make sure you have all your books in your laptop bag too. Just go get dressed and give yourself a minute to calm down. You can't hang onto that after-fight tension much longer. The last thing we need is to have to bail you out of jail because you hit a cop."

"I gotcha," growled Ed with a sigh. "I can't wait until you get married and have kids because you'll finally have somebody to nag at besides me."

"Nonsense Brother," said Al, smiling brightly. "I'll always save some nagging just for you."

"You're too kind," muttered Ed sarcastically.

Roy chuckled to himself as he and Ed went into the bedroom to get dressed. After they were decently clothed again, Ed went into the library to help get his stuff together while Roy packed a few things for himself. It was only going to be one night, but they both had classes and lab the next day. They couldn't very well leave their books and notes behind. Ed also had to teach classes and had a shift at the diner after that.

Roy was also thinking about calling his Aunt Chris. Given the nature of her business, she had a number of contacts among the less savory denizens of the city, and she might have some advice for how to deal with their home security issue. If her place wasn't so far from the university, Roy would have suggested staying there instead. Nobody messed with Chris Mustang or her girls, so they'd be safer there than in Fort Knox.

However, her place was on the other side of the city – about 30 minutes away or more, and probably an even longer trip by bus. Plus, Roy didn't like the idea of Ed taking the bus at all in that part of town. It's true he could protect himself, but he was pretty enough for somebody to easily mistake his profession. For that matter, having Ed in Aunt Chris's place might create the same exact problem. No good could come of putting Ed in a situation like that. Either the mistaken party would end up in the hospital or Ed would end up arrested. So, yeah, very bad idea. Maes may be a pain, but at least he lived in the suburbs. Speaking of which . . .

Roy pulled out his cell phone (it'd need a new charger cable since the other one had been sacrificed to their little improvised bondage incident) and found Maes's number in his contacts. "Hey, I know it's late, but we've got an emergency," said Roy when a very groggy Maes had answered. "Somebody broke into my house."

"What?!" yelled Maes and Roy jerked the phone away from his ear. "Are you guys okay? Did they take anything? Did they smash the place up? Where are you now?"

"We're both fine, and mostly the house is too, which is where we are, but we need a place to stay tonight," said Roy, not any more pleased about it than Ed. "The police are going over the place tonight and they want us out of the way I guess. Can we stay with you guys tonight?"

"Of course," said Maes without hesitation, reminding Roy why he'd put up with the nut for so many years. He was seriously good people. "You don't even have to ask. We'll get the guest room ready for you. Ed and Al will be with you right?"

"Just Ed, Al's been staying with somebody else the last couple days" replied Roy, looking to the brothers for confirmation, and once they figured out what it was he needed to know they nodded. "Yeah, only Ed will be with me."

"Then carry your carcasses over here," said Maes with way more cheer than a phone call at 1:00am really needed. "We'll put the porch light on for you."

"Thanks," said Roy with relieved sincerity. "You're the best, man. Really."

"Sure, Roy," said Maes, and Roy could just picture the grin he was wearing – two parts affection to one part teasing and one part pure mischief. "What are friends for?"