Waiting: Dating

Roy shut the door to his apartment and leaned against it, sighing. So far as he could tell, the legal proceedings were going in his favor—but damn they were tiring. His former subordinates had been right about the loopholes, the main one being the fact that there were no witnesses, but the board seemed to have decided that they needed to go over every inch of his service record. Including Ishval, where records were sketchy and memories were hazy on good days—and they were not memories Roy liked to revisit. But the hardest thing to face was the knowledge that the first time around, he had given up. He had let himself be demoted and banished, because he hadn't been able to bring himself to care enough to fight.

He dropped his uniform jacket over the back of a chair and went to his liquor cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of whisky and poured himself a glass, then sat down on the bed to take off his boots, setting the glass on the table. The apartment was a small studio, nothing more than somewhere to sleep and occasionally eat while his life got sorted out. He could have stayed in the dorms, but he disliked the thought of having so many people around. Gracia, wonderful woman that she was, had offered to let him stay with her and Elysia, but they were already housing the Elrics and the Rockbell girl, and that house would have triggered too many painful memories. Gracia had been disappointed when he turned her down, but she'd understood without him having to explain.

The first swallow of alcohol had just burned its way down his throat when there was a knock at the door. Roy grimaced, only partly because of the whisky. Edward had a habit of knocking with his automail hand. The former colonel sighed and stood. It wasn't that he didn't want to see the young alchemist—they'd seen precious little of each other over the past week, busy as they both had been with legal proceedings (Edward because of his three-year absence and the unresolved issues from before then)—but he was tired and new relationships, or whatever it was they had between them now, always took so much energy. Not to mention that dealing with Edward had always had a tendency to tire him.

The young man barely spared any time in greeting after the door was opened. Instead he shoved passed and headed for the kitchen.

"Fullmetal . . . it's been a long day." A long week, Roy amended mentally.

"I know. That's why I'm here." The blond pointed to the glass on the table as he dropped one of the bags he was carrying in the living room/bedroom. "I bet that's all you were planning to have, isn't it?"

The older man frowned. "I do own food."

"Really?" He couldn't tell if the astonishment was sarcastic or genuine. "Let's see, then." Edward set the second bag on the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator. "Yegh, hardly. You can't make any sort of meal out of this! And most of it looks old."

Roy folded his arms and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, torn between amusement and annoyance. "I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Fullmetal. I have been living on my own for years—"

"Yeah, I know." The young man shut the refrigerator door and fixed him with a stare. "And look at the result. You lost weight while you were up there in that icebox, and by the look of it you aren't gaining it back. You can't deal with stress if you aren't eating right, Colonel. And go easy on the alcohol; it's technically a poison, you know. Your body can handle it in moderation, but too much of it, especially on an empty stomach, and it does damage."

Roy raised his eyebrow at the lecture, but his attention had been caught by a flash of light when Edward had moved.

"What?" Edward said in annoyance at the waver in attention. In response, Roy pointed to the top of the smaller man's head. "Oh." Ed reached up and pulled the glasses off his head, pausing briefly to detangle his hair from the nosepiece. "Well, I drove here."

"You drove?"

Edward frowned at him. "You don't have to sound so surprised, bastard. I learned to drive in Germany. The traffic laws aren't much different here."

"I'm sorry," Roy said, well aware that he didn't sound the least bit sorry, "I just never pictured you driving."

"Yeah yeah, stay off the roads and all." He tucked the folded glasses in his breast pocket and then turned to the bag on the counter.

"And you wear glasses now."

"Yeah. I just got this pair a few days ago. I don't really need them," he insisted, "but they do make things in the distance a bit clearer." He finished pulling packages of food from the bag and started poking around Roy's cabinets.

"I'm also a little surprised to find that you cook," the older man admitted.

Edward snorted. "What do you think I ate all those years I worked under you? Al couldn't smell or taste anything, so he was always burning things or putting in too much seasoning, and it was expensive to eat in restaurants all the time. Now go sit down; this shouldn't be long, it's just stir-fry and noodles."

Roy shook his head at being ordered out of his own kitchen but retuned to his whisky glass.

The older man sipped his drink and watched as his houseguest (intruder) attacked the kitchen, blond ponytail swinging behind him as he worked. It seemed Edward cooked with the same single-minded focus with which he did everything else. It might lack elegance, but it was efficient and it got the job done. In no time, the apartment smelled of chicken and onions and stir-fry sauce, and Edward was spooning noodles into bowls.

Roy smirked as the young man brought the bowls to the table. "I'd make some comment about you and 'housewife,' but I'd much rather eat the food than wear it."

Edward glared at him, the bowl in his hand hovering a few inches above the table as if he was in fact contemplating dumping its contents in Roy's lap. "Cute, bastard. Real cute." He dropped the bowl with a heavy clatter then stomped to the other side of the table to deposit his own. "You're lucky this is Gracia-san's food and I don't want to waste it."

"I'll be sure to give Gracia my thanks the next time I see her."

"You do that." The young man stocked to the kitchen and yanked open the silverware drawer.

"Fullmetal, in the back of the drawer there are some chopsticks, if you wouldn't mind getting me a pair.

"You actually own chopsticks?" Edward said, his irritation apparently forgotten. "I've only seen these in restaurants. Well, and the Aquoya police station. I never understood that one."

Roy smiled as Edward came back and handed him the utensils. "I can't answer for the Aquoya police, but my mother came from Xing. She adopted Amestrian ways for most things, but she never quite got the hang of eating noodles with a fork. I picked up the habit from her."

"So your mother's from Xing?" he asked as he sat down, an odd note in his voice. Roy saw that he'd taken a pair of chopsticks for himself as well.

The older man nodded, his mouth full of food. Edward wasn't a bad cook, he was pleased to find.

"I'd wondered." The blond had a thoughtful, almost reflective look on his face. "You know, Colonel, you know just about everything about me, and I know next to nothing about you."

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be calling me 'Colonel' no matter what my rank?"

The younger man just smirked at him around a mouthful of food.

Roy sighed. "So what do you want to know? My mother came here to study Amestrian alchemy, and met my father. He was in the military; I think he was a warrant officer at the time."

"Is that why you joined the military?"

"Perhaps it influenced my decision, but I had my own reasons for enlisting." Naïve reasons, he added mentally.

"So was your mother the one who taught you alchemy?"

"Only the very basics. Most of what I know I learned from Hawkeye-sensei."

"'Hawkeye'?" Edward started, dropping the noodles he was about to bite into back into his bowl. "As in—Hawkeye?"

The older man chuckled. "As in Riza Hawkeye's father, yes. I'll get to that in a moment.

"My father was killed in the line of duty when I was ten. Nothing glamorous; it was a minor riot that turned ugly, and he was unlucky enough to get caught in it. Shortly after that, my mother took me with her back to Xing."

He paused to take a few bites, then continued. "We lived there for about a year and a half. Mother was happy to be home, but I. . . ."

"You were away from home."

"Yes, exactly. So we moved back to Amestris. I was twelve." He paused again to eat, and took the time to mull over his memories. "That year in school is when I met Maes Hughes. He latched onto me and I couldn't shake him off. He was this annoying goofball who irritated me to no end and wouldn't leave me alone." He sighed. "He also stuck up for me and watched my back, and was a good friend at a time when I sorely needed one. Sometimes . . . it was more like I was the one who would cling to him."

Roy finished off his bowl and set it aside, laying the chopsticks across the rim. "You had an unusual adolescence, but for most twelve-year-olds, nothing is more important than fitting in and being accepted. There's nothing worse than being 'different.'"

"And you were."

The older man rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. "I had no father, my mother was a Xingian alchemist—although Xing uses a different term—and I had just spent a year and a half in a strange country most of the other children had only heard vague stories about. Plus I had a tendency to spend my free time reading about subjects most children found horribly complex and terribly boring. Add to that the fact that I . . . ah . . . looked like an easy target."

The young man blinked at him for a second, then blurted, "You mean you were small?"

"Let's just say I had yet to hit my growth spurt."

"Ha! You were small!"

"Unlike some, however, I did hit a growth spurt when I was in my teens."

Edward slammed his hands onto the table and half-rose. "Just who are you calling as small as a child?!"

Roy smirked behind his hands. "I never said that, now, did I? I merely implied that perhaps you hadn't grown as much as some."

He sputtered. "I've grown, you jackass—"

"I didn't say that you hadn't. Why, just in the time I've known you, I believe you've gained a whole, what, three centimeters?"

"It's more than that!" The blond suddenly stopped, an odd look on his face. He bowed his head, and a moment later Roy heard what sounded distinctly like a snicker. "You're an arrogant bastard, you know that?"

The older man regarded the younger one with a raised eyebrow. "Fullmetal?"

Edward shook his head and dropped back into his chair. When he looked up his expression was schooled to something more or less neutral, but his eyes were shining. "You. Are an arrogant. Fucking. Bastard." His tone was far from angry. "And that's the first time you've really tried to rile me up like that since I've been back."

"And you're . . . happy about this?"

"You're starting to act like yourself again!" One arm flailed. "No, I don't like you poking fun at me, it's fucking annoying! But. . . ." He settled down, his voice dropping to a mumble and his cheeks faintly pink. "But you haven't really been acting like yourself and I've been worried about you."

Roy smiled, something that wasn't quite one of his smirks. "I'm . . . touched." Internally he was wondering how Edward really felt about teasing; it had been the base for much of their interaction in the past, so if he truly disliked it . . . Roy wondered why the young man was here.

Ed cleared his throat. "Yeah, whatever. You still haven't gotten to the part about Hawkeye's father. So he was an alchemist?"

The older man lowered his hands and smirked across the table, but let the subject be changed. "Yes, he was. A very talented one. Sadly, he passed away some time ago, shortly before the war started in Ishval. I think he would have liked you; I'm sure he would have liked the idea of a state alchemist who was for the people."

"Wasn't fond of the military?"

"No. In fact he was against me enlisting. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Mother met Hawkeye-sensei through some mutual acquaintances. I was already fascinated by the concept of fire alchemy, and that was the focus of his research. He agreed to instruct me.

"I was fourteen; Riza was around eleven. She was this scrawny girl who immediately sized me up and gave me a look that let me know she was not impressed." He chuckled briefly at the memory "By that point I was learning ways to charm and impress and already I could win people over—but not Riza. Nor her father, for that matter."

Edward snickered. "They saw through you, huh?"

"Let's say they had a different set of criteria then most people.

"Not long after I started apprenticing with Hawkeye-sensei, my mother returned to Xing. Don't look so shocked; it wasn't as if she abandoned me. In fact, I was the one who suggested she go. She was unhappy in Amestris, and I had been unhappy in Xing. At fourteen I was old enough to take care of myself, and Hawkeye-sensei was willing to let me stay with him and Riza. It wasn't an easy decision, but I believe it was the best one."

"But didn't you miss her?"

"Certainly. But we write to each other, and I went once to visit her when I was sixteen, and she has come here once to visit me. Travel between Amestris and Xing is neither cheap nor easy, and post is often slow and unreliable, but we do our best."

"You mean your mother's still alive?"

"Mm. In fact, when I came back to Central there was a letter waiting for me. Apparently the military hadn't bothered to reroute it to the outpost. I'm still working on my reply." Between what he couldn't say and what he didn't want to say, as well as what he didn't know how to say, the letter was going slowly. "So that's my life story." He sat back and folded his hands in his lap. "Anything else you care to know?"

"'Life story' my ass. You left out all the details."

Roy shrugged. "That was the overview."

"Whatever." Edward linked his hands together and stretched his arms over his head, his right hand glinting in the overhead light. "Y'know, I always thought, you and Hawkeye—I mean, you just seemed . . . close."

The older man chuckled. "It seems most people thought that. It always amused us. Riza and I care for each other—it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that we love each other—but we are not in love with each other, nor have we ever been. Besides," he added with a sardonic tilt to his eyebrow, "that woman just plain scares me."

Edward burst out laughing, his hands thumping back down onto the table. "Can't imagine why." He shook his head, still snickering. "That's more or less how I feel about Winry. Everyone in Rizenbool thought we'd get together. Sometimes they'd joke that we already were married, with the way we'd fight. I love her dearly, don't get me wrong, but she's too much like a sister. And if we had gotten together, I'd be living in constant fear of concussions. What about . . . what about you and Hughes? Did you ever . . .?"

"No. Maes and I were close friends, nothing more. I may have had a bit of a crush on him when we were kids," Roy admitted, "but he really wasn't my type. To be honest, I used to wonder how Gracia put up with him. Plus, he was horribly straight."

The young man snorted. Then said, "By the way, I cooked so you're doing the dishes."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't expect me to do everything for you."

He raised an eyebrow at the blond smirking across the table, then stood and purposefully gathered the bowls and headed for the sink. "I seem to remember that the time I cooked for you, I also ended up cleaning the dishes."

"I was still trying to get warm."

"And you think I wasn't cold?"

"Hey, you were used to it. Besides, I didn't hear you complaining."

"You took advantage of my astonishment at your sudden appearance."

The little devil laced his hands behind his head and grinned. "If a little thing like that threw you off, you deserved to be taken advantage of."

Roy sniffed and turned on the water.

A moment later he heard Edward get up and walk toward him, and then he felt hands on his back, warm and cold through his shirt, and a chin hooked itself over his shoulder (he must have been standing on tiptoe, but Roy kept that thought to himself). The hands slid around and came to rest on his stomach, and a warm chest gradually came to rest against his back. Roy paused a moment to press his arm against Edward's. The young man was so timid and awkward with gestures of affection, but that just made them all the more endearing.

"So are we . . . y'know . . . dating, now?"

The older man thought a moment. ". . . No. I don't think so." Edward jerked and Roy squeezed his hand to forestall any retort. "Dating is an act. Each person puts on a front in order to win the other. Virtues are emphasized and faults are masked. It's a game." He squeezed the hand again. "And I don't want to play games with you."

Ed sighed and relaxed, digging his chin into Roy's shoulder. "You're getting my hand all wet."

The dark-haired man smirked and pinched the end of the blond's nose with two suds-covered fingers. Ed snorted and dropped down a few centimeters (confirming Roy's suspicion), and scrubbed his nose on the other man's shirt. Then he sighed and shifted his arms into a more relaxed embrace, and rested his cheek against his shoulder. "So, then, what are we?"

"I'm not sure," Roy admitted. "I'm not sure it needs a name, just yet."

Edward hummed a little and shifted again, awkwardly tightening his embrace and then relaxing. Roy smiled to himself and finished the rest of the dishes in silence, enjoying the small, warm body resting against his back. Whatever they were, it felt right, which was something he'd never had with any of the women he'd dated.

"You already know all my deep dark secrets, anyway," Edward commented as Roy dried his hands. "So it'd be pointless to try to put up a virtuous front."

"And you know mine," the older man agreed. He hung the towel back up, then twisted around enough to hook an arm around the younger man's neck and press his face into thick, soft hair. "So whatever we are, we're not 'dating.'" He inhaled deeply as he waited for Ed to adjust to this new position and relax again. "You smell nice."

"Eh—it's Gracia-san's shampoo—"

"It's not a 'woman's scent,' though. I don't think it's only the shampoo. You just . . . smell nice." He wasn't sure if he should mention that it was partly the underlying scent of steel and oil. He'd never cared one way or the other for the smell of machinery until he'd started associating it with Edward. Now, he found it comforting.

"Um . . . thanks . . . I guess."

Roy pressed a kiss to the younger man's hair. "Thank you for coming by."

"Yeah . . . sure."

Ed shifted around, and Roy suspected he was blushing. This shyness of his was terribly cute. Roy gave him a squeeze and then released him. The young man ducked his head while trying not to look like he was ducking his head, and turned to take care of the bag that was still on the counter. The older man smirked, but took pity on him and left the kitchen, heading for the bathroom.

Later, after making his own trip to the bathroom, Edward poked around the in kitchen until he found a dish of cookies that had been left by Gracia earlier in the week. "Your kitchen really is pathetic," he commented around a cookie. "Actually," he continued, looking around as he munched, "This whole apartment is pathetic. Where's all your stuff, Colonel?"

Roy thought Edward was the last person who should be commenting on a lack of personal possessions, but he merely shrugged, leaning against the table. "I didn't have that much to begin with. My books and what furniture I didn't sell are in storage. What I didn't want to trust to storage, Hawkeye is keeping for me."

"Like what?"

"Some photo albums, my alchemic journals, a few books, some other odds and ends. Not much more than a box worth."

"Hm." He looked like there was something more he wanted to ask, but then he shrugged, and turned to get himself a glass of water.

"How late are you staying tonight?"

"Oh . . . well, it would be kinda rude of me to go back to Gracia-san's this late. . . ." He paused to finish his water, then set the glass in the sink and went to cover the cookies. "So I guess I was planning to stay the night—I mean, if that's okay," he added in a rush. "I probably should have asked first. . . ."

"No, it's fine." The older man straightened and walked over, resting his hands on the younger one's shoulders. "I would love to have you stay the night."

Edward leaned back, just a little, so Roy slid his arms around him, pulling him against his chest. He was tense, he was always tense at first, but he gradually relaxed until he was leaning against the taller man. "Mustang . . . Roy, this doesn't mean . . . I mean, I don't—I mean, I do, but—um. . . ."

"Shhh." Roy kissed the smaller man's hair, trying his best not to start laughing at the adorably awkward verbal fumbling. "Edward, it's all right, I'm not expecting anything from you. You don't have to give me anything you don't want to."

"I do want to—I mean, I would, I think. Like to . . . um. But, um, not . . . I mean. . . ."

"You're not ready," Roy finished for him. He kissed his temple. "And that's fine. There's no rush . . . certainly no obligation."

"Yeah . . . okay."

Inside, Roy was singing. This boy, this man, whom he'd longed after for years, had just told him, however awkwardly or round-about, that he desired him. Roy wanted to push him against the wall and kiss him senseless. He wanted to hold him tight and not let go. He settled for something closer to the second option.

There was a sigh, and the small body relaxed until it was all but sagging in his arms. "But it's . . . it's not like I don't want to do anything. This here, this is nice . . . and I think . . . I might like to do other things. . . ."

Before Roy could ask what he meant, Ed had twisted around in his arms and had one hand hooked behind his neck. The gold eyes looked nervous, but also determined, and after only a moment's hesitation, the young man went up on tiptoe and pressed their mouths together.

Well. It looked like he would get a little of option one after all.

Edward was an inexperienced kisser, and Roy tried to direct the kissing without seeming like he was. He knew quite well how this young man took to being led, and he had no reason to think he would be any different in physical matters. But Edward learned quickly, as he always did, and soon Roy was letting him set the pace.

They stayed that way for a while, though after a moment or two Roy leaned down so Ed didn't have to stay on tiptoe. One of Roy's hands dropped down to the small of the other man's back, and he let the other slide around to his chest. That was all he'd been planning to do, but then his fingers brushed against the young man's nipple through the soft fabric of his shirt, and it peaked under his touch, and he couldn't help but prod it, pressing it gently back and forth.

Edward jumped slightly and made the most delicious startled noise, but as intoxicating as it was Roy made himself still his fingers and pull back. "Is it all right?"

"Yeah . . ." the young man answered breathlessly. His lips were swollen and glistening, just begging to be kissed again. "Yeah, it . . . it felt good."

He let a slow smirk spread across his face and teased the nipple again. Edward's eyelids fluttered to half-mast, and his right hand made a faint clinking sound as it fisted in Roy's shirt. "Yeah . . . do that some more."

"I'd like to do even more for you." His voice was low, almost purring. He let his free hand shift from the smaller man's back to his hip and squeezed gently. "I'd like to touch you more . . . if it's all right."

At Edward's nod, he leaned forward and kissed him, lingering for a moment to suck his bottom lip, then pulled back, tugging on the smaller man to follow him. "Open your shirt for me."

The blond nodded again, and fumbled with the buttons as he allowed himself to be led out of the kitchen.

Roy sat down on the bed with his back against the wall. Edward had his shirt unbuttoned, but seemed to be hesitating about pulling it back. No, only hesitating about one side.

The older man smiled and motioned the other one forward. "Edward—'Fullmetal'—your automail is hardly going to turn me off."

Ed huffed "I know that." He let go of his shirt and crawled onto the bed, muttering, "It's stupid."

He cupped the young man's face in his hands, forcing him to raise his head. "No . . . it's not stupid. It just is." He kissed him again, and then prompted him to turn around, so that he was sitting with his back against Roy's chest. Roy stroked his fingertips over Edward's chest, keeping away from any sensitive areas for the moment. "If there's something you don't like . . . or if you want me to stop . . . you only need to say so."

Edward nodded, and let his head fall back onto Roy's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," he said, his voice only a little uneven. "How long are you going to make me wait, here? I thought you were going to touch me."

The former colonel chuckled, and nudged the young man's hip with the inside of his thigh. "Still an impatient brat."

"And you're still a manipulative bastard." He turned his face so his nose was touching the older man's neck and elbowed his arm. "So manipulate already."

Roy pinched the nipple he'd been playing with earlier, causing the smaller man to gasp and jump. "Yes, sir."

He caressed the nipple as an apology, then ran his fingernail around it, lightly scratching the edge of that sensitive nub. Edward made a sound in the back of his throat, a small squeak that he immediately tried to swallow. Roy smiled to himself; he wondered just what he would have to do before Edward stopped holding back.

He brought the other hand into play, running his fingers along the left collar bone and then brushing them against where the automail was bolted on the right. The young man made another sound in his throat and squirmed a bit, but he didn't say to stop, so Roy caressed him again, his fingers trailing over scars and metal.

He trailed his fingers down the edge of the port, pushing the shirt aside as he went. Edward pressed his nose against Roy's throat and squirmed again, and Roy gritted his teeth. He wondered if the younger man knew what a tease that was; if he didn't, he was going to find out before long.

The older man's fingers found the second nipple and pinched it gently. Edward made a strangled sound and arched, briefly pressing into Roy's hands.

"Mmm . . . like that, don't you."

"Bastard." Ed swallowed. "It's sensitive from being next to the port."

"So I see." He couldn't help but smirk. He had a gorgeous blond squirming under his touch—not to get away, but rather like he wanted more but didn't know which way to go. The squirming was starting to create a slight problem for the other man, but he merely gritted his teeth again, because there was no way he was going to tell this beautiful creature to hold still.

He teased both nipples for a while, taking care with the right because he wasn't sure just how sensitive it was and he didn't want to push over the line between pleasure and pain. Then one hand drifted lower, and suddenly Edward squawked and jerked forward, half-curling and smacking both hands down on top of Roy's.

"N-not so light!" He took a deep breath, then uncurled, leaning back against the older man's chest again and shoving his hand to one side to rub the offended spot. "Not so light."

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow at the blond, flexing his hand to take the residual sting away. Luckily Edward's flesh hand had hit first. "So you are ticklish."

Edward tilted his head back and glared up at him. "You better fucking not tickle me—"

Roy put a finger against Ed's lips and kissed his cheekbone. "I won't tickle you. My apologies for this time."

"Yeah, well, I probably shoulda warned you," he muttered against the finger. Roy stroked his lips and then pulled his hand away. "That felt pretty good, though, up until then."

"So I can see," he said, nodding to the slight bulge in the other man's pants. "Shall I continue?"

Edward flushed scarlet but nodded.

Roy stroked his chest again, his thumb caressing his collar bone. He kept up the gentle motion, his other hand lightly teasing his nipples, until the young man was relaxed and responding to the touch again.

"I was about to ask if it was all right if I went lower," Roy said softly. One hand moved to stroke the other man's hip. "Is it?"

Edward nodded again. He moved to unfasten his belt, but his hands were shaking, making it hard for him to get a good grip. His automail kept tinking against the buckle. He blushed again and swore under his breath.

Roy put his own hands over Edward's and moved the trembling hands away. He kissed one flushed cheek, then started working the buckle himself. He kept his movements slow, giving the young man plenty of time to change his mind. "I didn't realize automail could tremble."

"It's connected to nerves." He balled his hands into fists and pressed them against his hips. "I guess the signals go screwy . . . or something."

Roy stopped and put his hands over Edward's again, stroking with his thumbs and trying to coax the tight fists to uncurl. "Hey, hey, easy. It's okay if you're nervous, but don't tense up like this."

The young man took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out in a shaky sigh. His hands finally relaxed and Roy stroked his thumbs against his palms, both flesh and metal.

"All right? You don't have to be embarrassed about being nervous. It's normal."

Edward nodded, and lightly curled his left hand around Roy's thumb.

"Are you sure you want to continue? We can stop, if you're uneasy."

He shook his head, his ponytail grinding against Roy's shoulder. "No—I want you to—to touch me." He pressed his nose against the other man's neck and added, "Please?"

"It would be my pleasure," he replied, smirking again.

He finished with the belt and unfastened the pants, then slowly drew the zipper down. Edward pressed his face into the older man's neck and squirmed again, just a little, not enough to interfere. Roy hooked his fingers in the waistband of Ed's underwear and began to ease both garments down. Without having to be prompted, Ed shifted his hips to allow the clothes to be pushed down to his thighs.

"There," Roy whispered, stroking one naked hip. "That's better, isn't it?"

"Nng. . . ." The young man's face was still pressed against Roy's throat.

The older man caressed his hip for a moment, until he felt some of the tension leave the small body, and then he let his hand migrate to his inner thigh, and finally to his groin. That touch was all it took to turn a partial erection to a full erection. Edward gasped and arched, pressing himself into Roy's hand.

Roy cupped him, lightly stroking his thumb along his shaft, not hard enough to give any real satisfaction.

"Aaagh. . . ."

"It's different, having someone else touch you, isn't it? Being pleasured by something other than your own hand . . . it feels completely different, doesn't it?"

"Nn . . . stop . . . fucking teasing . . . and touch me already!"

"Impatient brat," he said fondly.

He squeezed lightly, earning another gasp, then started using both hands to explore his lover. He took his time, learning the young man's shape, where he liked to be touched, which touches elicited movement (tentative thrusts or those lovely little squirms), and which elicited sounds. Edward was still holding back, making strangled sobs and half-swallowed moans. It would take time before he felt comfortable enough to let himself go, but Roy was a patient man.

His hands were pressing against Roy's thighs, not quite hard enough to bruise. After a while his sounds became whines, desperate and needy, and he started bucking his hips in earnest. Roy took pity on him and stroked him, firmly, while his other hand cupped the young man's balls.

Even during climax, Edward choked back his cry, gritting his teeth and only letting out a strangled half-wail. Then he collapsed, limp and panting.

Roy wrapped him in a loose embrace, one hand rubbing his semen-splattered stomach (being sure to use enough pressure to keep from triggering Ed's tickle-reflex). His own erection was begging for attention, but he ignored it in favor of enjoying a rare moment of Ed being completely, utterly relaxed.

Edward shifted, then tilted his head back to look at the older man. "You're . . . poking me."

Roy suppressed a wince at the pressure the movement had put on a certain hypersensitive portion of his anatomy, and shrugged, smiling down at the young man. "What can I say? You turn me on."

He shifted again, pushing away and turning around. "Then I guess I should return the favor."

"You don't have to. . . ."

"I want to." He shifted onto his knees, drawing one hand down the front of Roy's shirt. "Maybe I want to touch you," he said in a low voice, leaning forward until their faces were only inches apart, "as much as you want to touch me."

Roy moaned into the kiss. Edward had certainly learned fast, and learned well. He rubbed the blond's still-naked hips and considered introducing him to the pleasures of the tongue.

Another time. Edward pulled back, then paused a moment to hike his pants over his hips before sitting back on his heels. "I've never done this before," he said quietly, his fingers working the buttons on Roy's shirt. "For someone else, I mean. I don't . . . I mean, I'm sorry if I don't do a good job."

Roy managed to choke back his startled laughter, reducing it to not much more than a snort. "Edward, Love, I'm sure you'll do fine." He caressed the young man's arm, feeling the muscles through the sleeve. "It's not as if it's complicated."

Golden eyes glanced up at him through golden hair and tanned cheeks reddened. "Yeah, well, we'll see," he said with a small smile.

With his left hand he stroked the older man's chest, pausing briefly to tease a nipple. He smiled when the nub hardened under his fingers, and smiled even more when Roy made an appreciative noise.

Edward's blush darkened when he unfastened the other man's pants, but he didn't hesitate to push both pants and underwear aside. Then he hesitated; Roy had to bite his lip to keep from screaming just put your hands on it already! Eventually the young man got the idea, and tentatively ran his fingers up and down Roy's length. Roy thought he might explode.

Ed quickly gained confidence, however. He was observant and responsive, two qualities of a good lover, and he soon figured out just how much pressure to use and how fast to stroke. It was almost embarrassing, how short a time it took.

Roy lay back and worked on catching his breath. Maybe it hadn't been perfect, Ed was still too new for that, but he certainly couldn't find anything to complain about. It had been too long since he'd felt like this. Far too long. The mattress shifted as Edward crawled up next to him and sat. Then he pulled his knees up and leaned against Roy's side, not quite snuggling. Roy stroked his leg.

"Not too bad, was it?"

He sounded nervous, but there was a smug note in the younger man's voice that made Roy smirk. "You have got to be kidding. Brat."

"Bastard."

Roy got his arms around the other man and pulled him around. Edward squawked, but didn't fight as he landed splayed across the dark-haired man's lap. Roy smirked at the sight, then kissed him.

"Mmm . . . we should clean up."

"I suppose," the older man said, not letting go.

"This stuff is starting to dry, Roy." Edward slithered out of his arms and sat up. "And we should get ready for bed."

Roy sighed and watched mournfully as the young man headed for the bathroom. He would have to teach Ed about the importance of the afterglow. Still, the thought of having Edward in his bed again cheered him up. He stood and went to find his pajamas.

Roy was pleased to find that Ed not only tolerated teasing but gave back as good as he got, so long as certain issues weren't touched. He scowled and ranted, sure, but there was an undercurrent of playfulness to it. Roy got an elbow to the gut at one point, but he also got toothpaste flicked at him. He wondered if this playfulness had developed in the last few years, or if he simply hadn't been privileged enough to see it before. He looked forward to finding out.

Roy was still smirking to himself when he left the bathroom, but when he got to the bed he hesitated, his fingertips on the edge of his eye patch. He was being stupid, he knew he was being stupid (and the irony wasn't lost on him that he could tell Edward one thing and yet not accept it for himself), but he still hesitated.

"That can't be comfortable to sleep with."

He looked over, but Ed was busy turning down the covers, as if it had merely been a casual observation and he didn't really care one way or the other.

He would hate to be thought a hypocrite. And it wasn't particularly comfortable for sleeping, as he had discovered that night in the outpost. Roy sat down on the bed, and before he could stop himself, he slid the patch off and set it on the bedside table.

A moment later there were fingers on his chin, gently turning his face, and other fingers, metal ones, brushing his hair aside. Roy carefully studied a point just above the other man's shoulder.

"It looks like the bullet struck the edge of your eye socket here," Edward said after a moment of inspection. He lightly touched the spot where Roy's left eyebrow should have started, which was instead rough scar tissue covering dented bone. "That really was close."

Roy's gaze flicked to the young man's face. "I guess I was lucky . . . like the doctors said."

Ed snorted. "I dunno if I'd call getting shot in the head 'lucky.' But . . . that was really close." He stroked the older man's cheek with his thumb for a moment, his eyebrows drawn together and his gold eyes bright. Then he wrapped his arms around him tightly and pressed his forehead to the ruined side of Roy's face.

"Ed?" Roy leaned one hand against the bed and brought the other one to the younger man's hair. He had considered a lot of reactions, but this had not been one of them.

"I'm just glad you're still here," came the muffled reply. He sat back and flashed him a grin. His eyes were still bright, but his cheeks were dry. "Think about it. Even with monsters and madmen and your own bouts of idiocy, you're still here. Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"I suppose so." Roy smiled and stroked Edward's hair, loose now for sleeping. "But you're the amazing one, always have been. You've probably set a record with the number of times you've cheated death."

He snorted, but leaned into the hand. "Yeah, and I bet Truth's just waiting to collect the rest of me."

"'Truth'?"

"The personification of the Gate. Kinda. Never mind."

"Ah."

"Whatever. Let's go to bed. I'm—" he broke off in a yawn, "—tired."

Roy chuckled and reached for the light, then settled down under the covers with his arm around the waist of a gorgeous blond. Not a bad week, all things considered. Not bad at all.