Roy stirred, sighing in contentment.
He was comfortable. His body still felt lethargic from sleep, satiated and calm in a way it hadn't been in years. He felt like he'd slept for a month straight.
His head wasn't on a pillow. It was on a hard but warm surface, and he could hear a heartbeat. A warm hand rested on his back, between his shoulder blades. The scent that filled his senses was more than familiar, and he snuggled closer to its source.
Ed.
The hand on his back moved, going up to his hair as Ed shifted slightly on the bed. Roy became aware in that moment that his head was tucked under Ed's chin, resting on his chest, and his left arm was draped around his chest.
"Morning," Ed mumbled, voice low and deep and perfect.
"Morning," Roy responded, his own voice a bit scratchy and hoarse.
Finally, he opened his eyes, seeing the sunlight filtering in through the blinds, Ed's tan chest that was so close to him. Maybe he should be embarrassed about having fallen asleep on Ed, about having Ed's arm around him, about him basically cuddling Ed's warm body, but he couldn't find an ounce in him that cared.
Everything about this moment was perfect. Roy had never felt this calm, this—dare he say—happy, ever in his life. Everything felt right. It had all slotted into place; he'd woken up wrapped up in Ed and he wanted to stay here forever.
He didn't want to go to work. He wanted to keep feeling Ed's fingers on his skin, trailing upwards, then downwards. He wanted to keep smelling his scent, now so familiar, so comforting. He wanted Ed to keep feeling this serene fondness he was feeling—
Wait.
Roy blinked. Cautiously, he lifted his left hand, his whole body freezing as his eyes took in the distinctive golden thread wrapped around his wrist.
Dread curled in his stomach—no, that couldn't be.
No.
No.
What?
He stared at it in frozen silence, in utter disbelief, in—
"You okay?" Ed asked sleepily, no doubt feeling the panic slowly rising inside Roy.
He could feel it, because the bond wasn't broken.
It was still there.
Roy recoiled as though he'd been burned, lifting his body over Ed and staring at him with wide, panicked eyes.
Ed frowned, hints of concern and confusion on his face and—through the bond. He could feel the confusion, the concern, the sleepy haze he was in as his brain tried to figured out why Roy was freaking out all of a sudden.
He hadn't realised.
"Ed—" Roy got up and hastily grabbed his boxers off the floor, throwing them on and trying his best not to stumble.
When he turned to face the bed again, Ed was sitting up on his elbows, staring at Roy with a confused frown. Roy swallowed. "The bond," he said pathetically. "It didn't break the bond."
Silence.
They stared at each other for what was probably two seconds but felt like two solid minutes, and then Ed blinked and looked at his right arm, wrapped in the golden thread of the soul bond. "Huh."
Huh? Huh?
That was all he had to say?
Through the bond he could feel Ed's slight surprise and puzzlement, but it didn't reassure him; it just pushed him closer to the edge of panic. Because it meant that Ed hadn't been expecting this either. Which meant that they had gone wrong somewhere, Ed had interpreted something wrong and not knowing what was freaking Roy the fuck out right now.
"I thought it would've actually," Ed mused, in a tone that was way too calm, way too accepting of this situation. He yawned and flopped back down on the bed, rubbing his eyes.
Why wasn't his whole world crumbling like Roy's was?
His heart was pounding as he decided to distract himself by gathering fresh clothes. "I'm going to have a shower," he muttered, trying to ignore the stickiness he felt on his chest, on his thigh. He couldn't think about that right now.
And then he practically bolted out the room and locked himself in the bathroom.
Deep breaths, he reminded himself as the hot water tried its best to calm him down. He felt—weird. Panicked, yes, but he had also entered his infamous damage control mode, which meant that there was a layer of him that was deathly calm, assessing, among the panicked chaos.
Last night—had been incredible. Roy wasn't going to deny that.
He had fucked Ed.
He couldn't think that sentence without his breath fully deserting him.
Did he regret it? No.
It had been something that had been building for weeks, something they had both wanted and had now satiated. Roy would never take that moment back—if anything, he would probably be thinking about it till the day he died, on his deathbed, even, if he was being honest with himself. It had been the best sex of his entire life.
But he had, subconsciously, been leaning on the fact that it would break the bond. It had been a bit of a crutch; that if someone did find out what had taken place last night, Roy could've just dismissed it and said it had been to break the bond—which would've wholeheartedly been a lie, but they didn't need to know that.
But now that the bond wasn't broken, Roy had no excuse to hide behind anymore.
And Ed was too calm about it.
Perhaps he'd give him the benefit of the doubt and a few minutes for it dawn on him, for his brain to fully wake up from its sleepy haze.
But the thought felt weak even in his head; he had a feeling that Ed really was going to be calm and accepting about it, maybe a bit frustrated that he'd gotten something wrong.
Roy had come to realise this past month that Ed didn't actually panic like Roy did. He just went a bit quiet and contemplative when something took him aback, when he wanted to weigh it out in his head.
Roy was a man of action. And the fact that he could do absolutely nothing, just sit back and accept his fate, rubbed him the wrong way entirely.
Ed was a man of action too, but in a different way. On the battlefield, he had instincts of immediate action that had saved his life multiple times—while Roy took on a more contemplative, strategic approach.
But when it came to situations like this, to alchemy, Ed was the contemplative one. Roy wanted to just do something and solve the situation. And he couldn't.
He hated feeling useless.
He stared at himself in the mirror as he towel dried his body. As he ran the towel over his right shoulder, he realised it was sore. Upon inspection, the bruise wasn't a surprise. Not when he'd had Ed's automail leg resting on there just last night.
He sighed and got dressed in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants. He'd have his coffee and then put his uniform on. And then go to work—something he really, really, didn't want to do today. But he had to.
Being clean and dressed eased the tightness in his chest the slightest bit. He felt okay enough to exit the bathroom, and there was Ed, dressed in his dirty boxers and absently holding a fresh pair, leaning against the wall by the door with a frown on his face. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice Roy next to him.
He tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped, glancing at him in surprise.
"Your turn," Roy said blandly, but what else could he say? He didn't know what to say, and it was another thing he just had to accept now; that Ed robbed him of his ability to speak more times than not.
Ed didn't look at him. Roy couldn't even begin to guess what he was thinking. "Right."
Then he simply went in the bathroom and Roy could only stare at the closed door with a sense of disappointment.
This hadn't been the way he'd wanted this morning to go. He hadn't specifically thought of how he'd wanted it to go; he just knew that this wasn't it.
He felt robbed. Robbed of the potential of a perfect morning with Ed, of them just being in bed until Roy was going to be late for work, of keeping him close and inhaling his intoxicating scent, of touching him just a while longer before the spell broke, of—
Who was he kidding. That fantasy existed in his head only; he and Ed weren't like that, and last night wouldn't suddenly change the way they interacted that profoundly.
Dejected, he leaned against the wall by the door, listening to the shower running. His eye caught the golden thread again and he sighed. They had to discuss what this meant, if Ed had a theory as to where they'd gone wrong.
He wished they could go back to bed.
The shower stopped and a minute later Ed was out. They headed downstairs in silence.
They would go to the kitchen, and Roy would have his morning coffee while Ed munched on his cereal. Their usual routine. But it left a sour feeling in Roy's chest.
Their silence wasn't entirely comfortable like Roy was used to. But it made sense; the bond was an unexpected, looming thing above them, dampening their moods, and Roy hated it. He hated it with a passion.
As he watched his coffee brewing, he decided to bite the bullet and address it. He didn't want to talk about the stupid bond, but they had to. "Why do you think the bond didn't break?"
Ed paused, his hand on the cereal box on the counter. He still hadn't looked at Roy. Was he thinking about the alchemy, about his theories, trying to understand what he'd missed? Was he upset they'd been robbed of a much better morning?
He was surprised to feel the spark of anger through the bond. "I don't know," he said tensely.
It was evident he didn't want to talk about it either, but they had to. He nodded. "Perhaps we'll have a better idea by the end of today," he said gently, hoping Ed understood that Roy didn't blame him for anything, that he was feeling just as dejected as Ed about this. "There's still the reversal array," he added hopefully, but he wasn't sure if it was for Ed's benefit or just his own.
"You're being a dick," Ed deadpanned. He was now looking at him, scowling, and Roy could only blink blankly at him.
What?
How had Ed interpreted any of what he'd said as Roy placing any sort of blame on him or—what did he think? Why was Roy suddenly a dick?
Roy frowned, a bit peeved, the tension inside him curling tighter. "And how did you come to that conclusion?"
Ed's scowl deepened, and a low growl ripped from his throat. Another flash of anger through the bond. "I wasn't thinking about the fucking bond," he snapped, his voice rough and angry—angrier than Roy thought he had any reason to be right now.
Roy pursed his lips, his coffee forgotten on the counter. "I understand you don't want to talk about this right now—I don't want to either. But this is important, and you're acting like you—"
Ed growled, loud and angry, and glared at him. What did Roy say now? He truly just breathed and Ed was mad.
"I can't believe I expected anything different from you, you're an asshole."
Now Roy was annoyed, irritation squeezing his chest among a stab of hurt. He straightened, glaring at Ed hurling insults at him. "And yet you're the one acting like one right now. I wasn't even annoyed at you about anything."
Ed opened his mouth, probably to hurl more insults at him, but Roy didn't want to hear it. His morning had already been ruined, and he wasn't going to let Ed bury it six feet under. He glanced at the clock. "I need to go to work."
With that, he left the kitchen and retreated upstairs to get dressed, ignoring the stab of pain in his chest—the stupid fucking bond.
Ed didn't speak to him for the entire walk to Headquarters. He didn't even look at him.
Roy felt the anger simmering through the bond, but what was buried underneath was hurt.
Well, Roy was feeling the exact same.
He was angry that Ed was being an asshole, and he was hurt that Ed had called him an asshole. And it wasn't even the word that hurt; Roy was used to being called an asshole, a bastard—any insult under the sun, really, especially by Ed. It was the undertones of how he'd said it.
I can't believe I expected anything different from you.
That had hurt. Even though Roy knew he was an asshole, really; he wasn't a good person, and he'd come to terms with that long ago. But having Ed acknowledge that—Ed, who had told him he didn't dislike him, who had told him he wasn't a monster, who believed in him and the scant goodness he possessed—it hurt. It hurt to be told that he was starting to think otherwise.
Roy didn't even know what he'd done that had Ed this angry. It always seemed like he said the wrong thing, or acted in the wrong manner, or just annoyed Ed in some way. He was used to that, but this felt like more—it was real anger, and real hurt, and Roy was going through every interaction they'd had this morning trying to figure out where he went wrong. Because Ed wouldn't be this mad at him if he was just upset about the bond not being broken, right?
Maybe he regretted last night.
The thought was sobering, and his heart rate spiked.
That thought hurt even more.
But no, he couldn't think like that. Ed hadn't given him any indication that this was about last night. If Ed did regret it, he would have to find the words to tell Roy flat out.
And then Roy would have to find the strength to keep himself together.
But right now, he had to operate as though Ed didn't regret last night, as though nothing even happened last night, as though everything was normal between them. Especially at work. He couldn't afford to let anyone see that something had changed between them. He hoped Ed would follow his example.
The receptionist greeted them as usual, all smiles and polite good mornings. He exchanged nods and quick words with fellow officers, but they felt robotic. Colonel Leighman gave him her usual flirty glance on the second floor, and Roy responded with his usual charming smile to keep himself in her good graces, but it felt fake on his face. It had always been forced, but now it felt unbearable.
Everything looked the same, the people were the same—the same greetings, the same smiles, the same faces. But for Roy it was as though everything was different.
It was only when he and Ed paused outside his office door that he realised he was what had changed.
Last night had changed him in ways he couldn't quite articulate, and that scared him, just a little bit.
Ed had his hands deep in his pockets as Roy grasped the handle of the office door. He was glaring at the floor, lost in his thoughts, and Roy felt the anger simmering through the bond as clear as day.
He pursed his lips. "Act normal," he mumbled, before swiftly opening the door and entering the office.
He saw his team look up at their entrance the exact same time he felt Ed's anger spike to what he could definitely call livid, and—
"Fuck you."
Roy froze, and watched as his team looked at Ed with various levels of shock on their faces. Roy could feel Ed's glare on his back.
He turned around, slowly, making sure his face was the perfect blank mask. "Excuse me?"
He met Ed's furious gaze head on, ignoring the way his heart pounded in his chest, the way panic was making its way through his veins.
Ed was making a scene. And now Roy had to deal with it.
"You're such a fucking asshole, you know that?" Ed was so angry he was panting, banging the outer office door closed behind him and causing Fuery to flinch.
Deep breaths, Roy reminded himself. He had to stay calm and collected.
Ed was doing this on purpose. The reason? He couldn't even begin to guess. Perhaps he wanted Roy to get angry, to yell at him and lose his composure in front of his team. Or maybe he wanted to exercise his new-founded control over Roy, make him sweat. Maybe he wanted to somehow show his team what an asshole Roy apparently was.
Roy couldn't—wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him.
"If you have a complaint about me, Fullmetal, we can discuss in my office." He kept his voice steady through the adrenaline that zapped through his body. He turned back around and walked to his inner office door.
Ed growled behind him. "Yeah, fucking walk away like you always do."
"Edward…" Hawkeye started. It was a warning; he didn't have to look to know she was fingering her gun.
But Roy didn't need or want Riza to fight his battles for him—and especially not against Ed.
Instead of entering his inner office, he paused and turned, levelling a cold stare on the glaring golden eyes before him. Ed didn't even flinch.
His mind was going a mile a minute as he tried to find the best angle to approach this situation from.
He couldn't really discipline him, not like a commanding officer would usually punish such blatant insubordination. He and Ed had always had an unconventional relationship; he truly did give Ed way more leeway than he'd ever realised, and it was now becoming painfully obvious. The fact that him disciplining Ed right now would look weird said it all.
Dammit Ed.
"I've let you get away with too much disrespect," he said coldly. "I am your commanding officer and you must treat me as such—"
Ed snarled, and Roy's heart spiked; was he going to— "I don't give a flying fuck."
He could feel his heart pounding in his ears; he knew it was panic, and he felt a bit numb, a bit dissociated from it, but he stayed planted where he was, six pairs of eyes on him, waiting for him to slip up, watching for any telling reactions.
Was Ed planning to reveal what happened last night, what they'd done?
All it took would be one word from Ed. The fraternisation rule existed so officers of higher rank didn't abuse their power over people of lower rank. But with Ed and Roy it wasn't like that. Ed held all the power. One word from Ed—him revealing what happened last night, and worse, him saying he hadn't wanted it—and he could destroy Roy's life.
Ed could ruin him.
He gulped at the thought, but straightened his back, squaring his shoulders as he checked the bond—just in case Ed had finally decided that he did, in fact, hate him.
He didn't. What was swirling through the bond was anger, and so much raw hurt Roy didn't know what to do with the information.
Surely he wouldn't say, right? He wouldn't do that to Roy. Would he?
He wouldn't. But a part of him was terrified that he would, to spite him.
Ed was impulsive, and in his anger even more so; it was likely that, if he told everyone what had occurred last night, it would be a spontaneous decision he would probably regret later.
But Roy didn't think he could come back from that if he did.
Please, Roy thought despite himself, trying to hopelessly beg through whatever telepathic power they'd been given by the bond. Maybe, just maybe, Ed would hear it.
Of course he didn't, but Roy tried anyway.
"My office, Fullmetal," he said, his voice flat, cold, impersonal. "Now."
He tried to ease the lump in his throat, tried to breathe normally. Until he had Ed tucked into his office, away from the others, he wouldn't feel safe. If Ed opened his mouth again, Roy would only anticipate the worse.
Ed could most certainly feel Roy's panic, and he didn't seem to give a shit. Maybe that was what he'd been aiming for.
Ed's eyes narrowed, but it wasn't in anger; weirdly, his anger simmered down. He pursed his lips and his tense body relaxed, as though he came to some sort of grim realisation.
In three strides he'd gone from one side of the room to the other, harshly knocking his shoulder against Roy's as he pushed past him to enter the inner office.
Roy pursed his lips as his shoulder ached for a second—it had been his bruised one.
"Get back to work," he told the team, and shut the door, leaving him and Ed alone in the inner office.
Roy could breathe a little easier again.
Ed had plopped onto the couch, arms crossed and glaring daggers at the coffee table in front of him.
"Your little display was unprofessional," Roy deadpanned, walking further into the room.
"I don't give a shit about being professional," Ed retorted, his tone dripping in venom.
Roy halted behind the couch opposite Ed, bracing his hands on the back. He preferred to stand for this conversation. "You're just proving me right, you know. All those times I told you we shouldn't cross the line and—"
Ed scrunched his face up as though disgusted. "As if you aren't looking for reasons in every little thing."
Roy paused, evaluating the situation and how to best approach it. He hadn't wanted to hurt Ed, or anger him. All he'd wanted was for them to have a moment—a moment Roy had been deluded enough to think they deserved; that he deserved. He deserved nothing of the sort.
Ed, however, had deserved the perfect morning they were robbed of and more. So much more than Roy could ever hope to provide.
"I apologise for this morning," Roy said calmly, delicately. "The bond not breaking…It caught me by surprise."
Nothing. Ed didn't even look at him, keeping his scowl firmly aimed at the table.
Ed couldn't blame him for this. This situation was bizarre, unprecedented. How was Ed so composed over this, time and time again?
Roy deflated, his exhale harsh. "What do you want me to say, Ed?"
Ed looked at him then—to glare at him. But it was raw hurt that flowed through the bond again, the anger having simmered down. He gazed at Roy for a long moment, those shrewd golden eyes staring into his soul. "You don't trust me."
Roy frowned in confusion. "You wouldn't be on my team if I didn't."
Ed groaned in utter exasperation and dragged his hands down his face. "I'm not talking about fucking work." He angrily pointed to the door. "You thought I was gonna say something back there. You were panicking."
"Were you?" Roy dared to ask, levelling Ed with a blank, challenging stare.
Another flicker of hurt. "You tell me—was I?"
He didn't think Ed would say something, not really. Definitely not maliciously. Perhaps he would on accident, if something slipped through his impulsive anger. Ed was unpredictable, always had been. He was one of the few people Roy couldn't fully anticipate.
But he came to realise, now, that the monster he'd envisioned through his panic wasn't Ed at all. Ed wouldn't seek to destroy him; he wasn't filled with the hate and malicious intent Roy was used to expecting from people. Ed was pure in ways Roy would never be, and he loathed the thought that he would've had any hand in corrupting that pureness.
He wouldn't expose Roy just to spite him. And he would definitely not lie to ruin his life.
Ed wouldn't do that to him. Or to anyone, really.
"You don't trust me," Ed said again, with more resolve now, and Roy became aware he hadn't answered his question. This time the hurt was all over his face, Roy didn't need the bond to see it. He averted his gaze, resignation and grim acceptance flowing through the bond. "Fine, whatever."
"Ed—"
"Did you just fuck me to break the bond?"
Roy's eyes widened despite himself. How could he even think that? "Of course not."
Last night Roy had felt closer to Ed than he'd ever felt to anyone—even Maes. How could Ed think to just dismiss it as something so—so clinical, so detached?
He felt a spark of irritation in his chest, and he walked over to his desk, taking a seat in his chair. "What was that little display anyway? If you weren't going to say anything why do it in the first place?" Before Ed could reply, he continued. "You're the one who said it's no one's business and yet you just paraded our business to everyone."
"I meant no one needs to know we're fucking, not that you're an asshole," Ed snapped.
Roy froze, eyes widening as panic squeezed his chest— "We're not—" Fucking.
Yes, they'd fucked. But fucking implied some sort of continuity. It implied that it would happen again.
And again. And again. And again—
And what would that mean, then? If it happened again—if it kept happening.
Would it—keep happening?
Roy realised, then, with a sense of growing horror, that he hadn't thought that far ahead.
Ed arched a brow at him. "Oh? Damn, maybe I just had a giant shit then and that's why my ass hurts."
Edward—
Too late. Heat crawled up his neck, searing through his cheeks, and he shut his eyes, hopeless as his whole face burned. He tried to reel it in, he really did, but his face was on fire, and pure mortification overcame him.
Ed could be so crude.
"For the love of God," Roy chocked out. "Think before you speak, for once in your life. Please."
Ed huffed, but was silent. Roy didn't say anything further, hoping, praying, that this conversation would finally conclude.
He looked at the paperwork in front of him, sorting through the papers almost calmly, but he was aware his face was probably still a bit red.
"You're fucking infuriating, you know that?"
Roy glanced at him, the lingering embarrassment leaving as he focused on Ed's slight change in topic. His voice was calmer, accepting of the truth in his statement. He was still staring at the coffee table in front of him, but his gaze was more contemplative than angry.
He picked up his pen as he prepared to start his work day. "And so are you."
Ed didn't reply for a second too long, and Roy spared another glance at him. He still wasn't looking at Roy, eyes intently on the coffee table. His arms were still crossed and—was he pouting?
"Do you wish I wasn't?"
Roy took a moment to contemplate his reply—not that he didn't know his answer, but he wondered why Ed was asking, what he was expecting Roy to say. "No."
Now Ed looked at him, in slight surprise. Had he been expecting Roy to say yes?
Roy met his gaze. "Because if you weren't, you wouldn't be you anymore." And he would never have Ed any other way, really. Infuriation, crudeness, and all.
He watched as Ed practically melted in front of him, his body deflating, golden eyes wide. "Bastard," he breathed.
Roy arched a brow. "What have I done now?"
Ed scowled in embarrassment. "How am I meant to stay mad at you when you say shit like that?"
Roy's lips twitched upwards. He leaned back in his chair. "Ah, I believe someone once likened me to a thesaurus." Ed shot him a small glare. Roy smirked. "Considering I'm apparently so good with words, maybe I should flatter you more often."
Ed scrunched his face up, squeezed his eyes shut, and a fierce blush took over his whole face. The embarrassment flowing through the bond was more amusing than it probably should be.
Roy could do this all day, especially if he got reactions like that.
"You're a fucking bastard."