oldestcharm

It's a nice day. No one's dead.

It's spring. It's warm, even if it is humid.

The wind is nice. It's all nice.

Ed's standing on the front steps of some rural cottage that was supposedly the meeting place of treasonous military personnel and some upstart alchemist. So far, there's only evidence for tax fraud, which is kind of stupid, a little bit disappointing and definitely a waste of time, but it's probably good for the team to get out of the office every once in a while. Get some fresh air. Rejuvenate. They even found alchemical notes Ed's cautiously looking forward to decoding.

Al would advise Ed to look for something that's more than just nice, something fulfilling. But Ed's tried that — being happy for himself now that Al is living life as he should have from the start — but it hasn't quite worked out. He never really expected to survive past the age of sixteen, let alone twenty and it's surprisingly difficult to find anything particularly fulfilling when you've already achieved your life's goal.

Still. Ed thinks that maybe he can be content.

Here — even if it is with the military. It doesn't seem to bother him as much when he's surrounded by people he cares about and who care in return. When things are changing for the better. When Roy's efforts are finally paying off.

So. He's enjoying life to the best of his ability. If not for himself, then for Al, because Al's the best and he deserves a brother who isn't miserable all the time.

Ed's not entirely sure when exactly his smile turned into a delighted grin, but Roy, standing further away on the grass, has undoubtedly noticed. For once, he isn't smirking at Ed. Instead, there is a small cautious smile on his face and a curious tilt to his brows.

Ed can't look away, and Roy, as if lured closer by Ed's thoughts alone, stops just short of the stairs, leaving a polite gap between them. Ed's taller like this, if only by a couple inches.

Maybe it's the angle that allows Ed see it so clearly. Maybe it's the sun, bathing everything in golden light, and neither of them seem able to tear their gaze from one another.

And, while Ed's not good at reading most people, at this moment he knows exactly what Roy's thinking. It's there, reflected right back at him. The same drive, the respect, the genuine appreciation for everyone around them.

The curiosity.

Ed's automail fingers curl around the braiding of Roy's uniform, the gesture presumptuously forward, but somehow it feels as though they've finally come to an understanding. Roy's reaches out, his hand sliding around the back of Ed's neck, fingers tangling in his hair with purpose. He's close enough now for the spicy scent of his cologne to make Ed light-headed in the best way imaginable. Roy smiles, tugs gently and Ed's never dreamed of wanting anything quite so terrifying before.

Ed meets him halfway, and fits his mouth against Roy's because sometimes being brave looks a lot like good old-fashioned, unadulterated recklessness.

It starts off with a gentle brush of lips, Roy's hot breath against his and then Ed's own startled laughter. Roy seems to take that as encouragement, his hand settling on Ed's waist, a firm claiming presence. And then Roy's tongue collides hotly with his and Ed can't help but bury his fingers in Roy's unbearably soft hair. He tastes like stale coffee from this morning, bitter and delightful, steady, wet and addictive where they fit together.

Ed wants this forever.

Someone clears their throat pointedly. Ed pulls back, blinking slowly. He doesn't dare to look away from Roy, but from the corner of his eye he can see the rest of the team frozen in place.

Roy's hands remain firmly in place.

"Gentlemen," Hawkeye says, her voice tinged with clear amusement, "we're still on the clock."

"My apologies," Roy says, but his gaze remains fixed on Ed. He raises an eyebrow and looks at him in as though he's owed a response for a long unanswered query.

"Shut up," Ed says, certain that Roy will just get it without him having to spell it out.

Roy pouts at him.

Ed wrinkles his nose, but he can't suppress the smile when it is mirrored right back at him, bright, hopeful, and, most importantly — happy.