Decked Out

Roy very rarely ever goes on actual dates anymore. When he was younger and his skirt-chasing was less persona and more stress relief slash sport, he used to go out nightly and enjoy it.

Nowadays, his job is too important to slack off, and his work hours never seem to end. When he has any of his extremely limited time off, he prefers to simply laze around at home rather than work more by going out and keeping on his precious masks when… really, a book and the radio quietly playing in the background sounds much more appealing.

But tonight?

Yes, tonight he's feeling it.

His career has been a string of success after success after success lately - the reconstruction of Ishval is going... well, all things considered, it is going remarkably well. The Ishvalan citizenship bill has passed recently, and a memorial of the war - with a comprehensive list of names of the deceased compiled by the survivors, among other things - is in the talks. It's not - perfect; it will never be perfect, there isn't a way for Roy to make up for what he has done -

He takes a deep breath, and chases those thoughts away for the moment.

Last but not least, another promotion for Roy is on the horizon. If all that combined doesn't call for a celebration, what does?

And so, when Roy walked past the secretary pool earlier this week and saw the new, lovely addition to it smile his way, he decided to exercise his flirting skills a little - and she really is lovely, wicked smile and sharp, observant eyes in such vibrant brown it nearly looks like honey, hair the perfect shade of platinum blonde with just enough darker highlight in it to make Roy wonder if the… curtains match the carpet, so to speak. She smiled at Roy coyly and let him steer the conversation in a way they both liked.

Roy squints at his own reflection in the mirror critically. Should he slick his hair back, or...?

The outer door bursts open so suddenly Roy flinches in alarm, and, like a mirage, like the disruptive element he's always been, Edward Elric saunters inside as if he owns the room.

"Hello - " he starts and then - stops and clamps his mouth shut when he sees Roy. For a second, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights; his eyes flicker across the room, and when he finds it empty, his gaze slides all the way back to Roy and his eyes narrow like he's the intruder. In his own office.

"Hello," Roy says flatly. "How did you get here, civilian?"

"Bastard." Edward says it like a way of greeting, and drops his suitcase with a thud.

He must have come straight from the train station after arriving in the city, as he is known to do; Roy looks him up and down, and is surprised, if pleasantly so, that Edward displays none of the annoying, unattractive signs of exhaustion after suffering through hours on a wooden train bench.

"Figures that the only time I catch you in here after hours, you're not actually working," Ed says, and Roy blinks himself back into the present. Ed looks smug. "What are you still doing here?"

"Unlike you," Roy replies slowly and takes one step away from the mirror before Ed has a chance to notice that he's been checking himself out in it, "I work here. You, on the other hand, shouldn't have been able to get inside."

Ed snorts. "Oh please." He draws the words out, smirking. "Like anyone could stop me."

This is hopeless. Edward Elric, twenty years old and a civilian of at least three years now, and he will never stop doing only exactly what he wants to do.

Somehow, it's an oddly comforting thought.

Roy considers a biting remark, or a sarcastic comeback, or a witty one-liner, but in the end, he just - can't resist the smile. Soft and honest - a rare occurrence in Roy's life these days. "Welcome back, Edward," he says quietly. "It's been a while."

Ed looks slightly taken aback by Roy's welcome - his eyes widen just a fraction in genuine surprise, and his jaw goes slack, but once that moment of shock - utterly ridiculous as it is - passes, he smiles back in that helpless Ed way. All teeth and no inhibition. "Well," he says. "It's been a while since I've been in Amestris."

"I know," Roy tells him, and points to the far wall where the office pinboard is - and amidst all the bulletins and letters are two lone postcards, bent and worn around the edges after having travelled through countless hands on their way here. "Kain Fuery put them up when they arrived."

Ed's face goes - wondrous, and then soft when he sees the cards, like he didn't expect anyone to actually keep memorabilia of him. "Oh," he says, and then seems to shake himself out of the melancholy, grinning wickedly instead. "Well, it's nice to know I didn't put all the effort into writing these just so you could throw them away."

We would never, Roy thinks. What he says is, "It couldn't have taken you that much effort, given what the handwriting looks like."

Ed's head whips back to Roy, blonde hair bleached by the Cretan sun following the motion faithfully, and he scowls. "Don't be a stingy bastard," Ed says.

Roy smirks. "Being a 'stingy bastard' is practically my job description."

"But I'm not your subordinate anymore," Ed reminds him helpfully, entire expression sparkling with amusement.

"Thank heavens," Roy murmurs and turns to the mirror, only in part to hide his smile.

They fall into silence, which Roy uses to make his last adjustments in the mirror - straightening his cuffs and tie, brushing the dust off his shoulders - before he inevitably has to leave for his date.

His fingers feel clumsy and unwilling, now - he's not exactly having second thoughts, but he's also not keen on having to dismiss Edward so quickly after such a long time. Who knows when he will see him next? He closes his eyes briefly against the feeling of disappointment; of course, of course he has to make an appearance on the one evening Roy actually has plans that cannot be cancelled. "As nice as it is of you to visit so suddenly, I am afraid I have other commitments later this evening," Roy says, his voice perfectly even. "If I may suggest, it would be better if you came in tomorrow - the rest of the team would be delighted to see you as well, I'm sure."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I came in to see them, anyway," Ed says.

Roy's mouth twitches. From the corner of his eye he sees Ed smirk and lean against the wall, and when Roy turns to him, Ed is - staring. See something you like? Roy wants to ask, but Ed beats him to it.

"Why are you all decked out?" he asks, eyeing Roy with confusion.

It's not exactly the emotion Roy wants to inspire when people look at him. He sighs. "Why, Edward, I have a date tonight."

Ed's eyebrows rise slowly and hilariously high. "A date? Where the hell are you taking her? The Führer's mansion?"

Roy smiles, and turns back to the mirror. "Not quite yet," he says quietly, giving Ed a sidelong glance. "We are going for a lovely dinner uptown. The restaurant has been recommended to me by many of the Generals."

Ed snorts. "Yeah, because some hoity-toity, stiff-collared restaurant sounds like a lot of fun," he says dismissively. "How lovely."

Now it's Roy's turn to raise his eyebrows. "You don't think so?" he asks.

"Hell no," Ed replies.

"Well," Roy says, "I guess I will have to take you out some time and prove you wrong, then."

There is a moment afterwards where Roy's brain stutters into a hilarious yet terrified halt. His hand freezes just under his chin, fingers on the knot of his tie, and for a moment Roy considers just choking himself with it.

Did he just ask Edward out on a date? Did he just ask Edward out on a date? Oh gods, he did. Roy's entire face seems to spasm. Quickly; he should smirk and turn this into a joke before Ed starts screaming bloody murder or chooses to strangle Roy himself.

Instead, Ed just shrugs and says, "Okay."

 

Roy spends the entirety of the evening in a stunned daze. His date, of course, seems perturbed by it at first; she has to call Roy's name three times before they even get to order, honey-colored eyes narrowed suspiciously each time, blonde hair pulled up in a neat bun and glowing in the dimmed light.

Everytime Roy so much as looks at her, he thinks, Oh gods. Oh gods, I have a type, and my type is Edward Elric.

He doesn't get to find out if the curtains match the carpet that night. Eventually, his date obviously decides that Roy is not the kind of fun she imagined to have that night, and she bids him goodbye early and with a disappointed, venomous look in her eyes.

Well. It is one of Roy's more memorable dates, though one he would rather like to forget.

Not that it matters in the face of Edward walking into Roy's office the next day as promised, with great fanfare and a lot of cheering from the more excitable members of his staff.

Roy sits behind his desk and watches everything around him pass in absolute bewilderment; he hopes, while Ed exchanges pleasantries and banter with his people, that maybe Ed's forgotten. Maybe Ed took the invitation for a joke Roy most certainly didn't mean it as, maybe Ed just - isn't going to mention it at all.

Ed never plays by Roy's rules. He turns to him, his voice drawing Roy out of his thoughts as effectively as if Ed just snapped his fingers in front of Roy's face. "Mustang," Ed says, and Roy lifts his eyes to where he stands in the doorway, grinning, "are we still on, or are you having seconds thoughts?"

"Excuse me?" Roy says weakly. Seconds thoughts is not what he would call it, exactly.

Ed grins harder, crossing his arms over his chest. "You promised to show me a good time," he says. And Ed's never been stupid, and he's no longer a fifteen year old boy, either; judging by the grin, the smirk, the amused eyes sparkling like gold in sunlight, he knows exactly how suggestive he sounded right now.

Over Ed's shoulder, Roy can see Havoc's eyes going so wide it's a wonder they don't fall out.

 

This is how Roy finds himself in one of Central's finest establishments, sitting at a nice table towards the back, hidden from the curious looks of the other patrons, with Edward Elric, of all people, sitting opposite of him like the perfect picture of…

Boredom.

Roy opted out of wearing a suit tonight, instead choosing to remain in his uniform; he thought it would be more comfortable, more familiar, to the both of them - after all, they've been in that situation a thousand times before. Roy in his uniform, sitting behind a desk while Edward gives him this… look. Leaning his cheek on his hand, eyebrows arched, eyes expectant, smile amused.

Except Roy was wrong - this is not familiar at all. Firstly, Edward looks nothing like he used to look then. He dresses differently - in muted browns and beiges and more traditional cuts, though he stills wears his clothes with a certain boyish charm. His jaw is wider now, his cheekbones sharper, his cheeks less round. Roy can see his Adam's apple above the opened collar. His shoulders are broader and more defined.

Roy looks up to meet Ed's eyes. Ed's eyebrows arch higher.

Roy has the startling realization that he is checking Edward out. And finding him acceptable. More than acceptable, actually.

Roy is also sweating, unless the wet drop running down his neck is just a very vivid hallucination.

Their waiter walks swiftly to their table with a box of matches, and with an easy, practiced motion that Roy can only be envious of, he lights the little candle in the middle of their table. Roy wants to say, 'No, no, you misunderstood. This isn't a date,' but… instead, he just swallows his complaint down and looks up to give the waiter a smile that hopefully doesn't look as uneasy as it feels. He turns back to Edward, the awkward smile still in place.

Ed smirks, and he looks absolutely stunning in the candlelight. "So," he says, "when is the fun going to start?"

Roy sighs. "Edward, if you came here expecting to hate it, of course you're not going to have fun."

"I came here expecting you to, and I quote, prove me wrong, like you promised," Ed reminds him.

Roy narrows his eyes over the table, feeling the frustration building like a physical thing in his chest. "I - " he starts with a voice almost like a growl and then - he exhales and briefly closes his eyes, counting to five quickly. "So," he says and opens them again, and gives Edward the nicest smile he can manage, "how was Creta?"

Ed shrugs, but for the first time since they met here, he stops leaning on his hand, instead folding them on the table before him. "It was nice. Nice weather, really friendly people. They have the ocean, and that was awesome, though I don't know what Winry would do to me if she knew I dunked her precious automail in salt water." One of his hands disappears under the table followed by a hollow, metallic clank - presumably Edward's knuckles against a steel knee. "Their alchemy is really weird," he adds, as if in afterthought.

"Oh?" Roy says. "I assume every foreign alchemy is bound to seem somewhat weird."

The waiter comes back at that moment with their orders, setting them on their table wordlessly.

Edward, of course, digs in without delay, only offering the waiter a quick, "Thanks," shovelling the food in his mouth like he's scared Roy might steal it if he's not fast enough. The waiter eyes him with apparent appalment, his lips turning upwards in a sneer.

Well, there goes his tip.

"Thank you. That will be all," Roy says flatly, and something in his face must show, or perhaps his tone is more transparent than Roy intended, because the waiter scrams immediately.

Edward, of course, doesn't notice anything at all - or, if he does, he doesn't seem to care in the slightest.

Surprisingly, neither does Roy. Not at all.

With his mouth half-full of steak and potatoes, Ed says, "Apparently, it was banned for a long time. Religious reasons, of course." He swallows, and chuckles. It shouldn't be endearing, but it is. "Lucky for you, too," Ed continues with a grin. "If you think our alchemy is destructive, you got another thing coming. The shit they could do if they wanted to would make Amestrian alchemy look like a child's toy. They do all this stuff with electricity..."

Roy knows that, of course; as the government's appointed head of foreign policies, he monitors the progress of the neighboring countries' alchemical practices closely. "Thank you for the warning," he says nonetheless, and Ed shrugs again, stuffing another bite in his mouth. "I would be very interested in hearing more about your findings on Cretan alchemy."

"Planning how to use it against them already?" Ed asks, quirking an eyebrow. "Is Amestris not enough for you anymore? Are you after other countries, as well?"

Roy just smiles, and begins eating.

 

Once they're finished with their food, and Ed once again manages to completely disgust the waiter - this time by slumping gracelessly, utterly inappropriately; one elbow propped on the back of his chair, his right leg thrown casually over his left - he leans forward towards Roy over the table and says, quietly and with a wicked grin, "So, Mustang, why aren't you Führer yet?"

Roy's eyes slide closed with a deep, slow sigh. "Edward," he says, but his lips twist into a smile despite the air of exasperation he tries to project. "You say that like you expect me to become the head of the nation in a day."

"And why not?" Ed says. "You overthrew the government in a day. You helped to defeat a fake god in a day. How hard could climbing the military ladder be?"

Roy - laughs, sort of helplessly, covering his mouth with his hand. "Ed," he says, voice strained with how hard he tries to suppress it, "you can't say that out loud in a room full of people."

Ed waves his hand dismissively. "No one gives a shit about us," he says. "Now answer the question."

Roy hums as if in deep thought. "Let's put it this way," he says in the end. "Between a room full of bureaucrats and firing off blindly at an immortal abomination - the latter is far less frustrating."

Again, Ed leans back in his chair. "You know, I used to think the same thing about you. Back in the day, chasing mad alchemists and looking for a stone I didn't even know was real felt way easier than dealing with your shit sometimes."

Roy folds his fingers under his chin, watching Ed over the table intently. "And you don't think so anymore?"

His eyes grow wide before they narrow at Roy, and he jabs his index finger at him like a weapon. "I will if you don't stop looking so smug, asshole."

Roy opens his mouth to retort something biting, but the waiter chooses that exact moment to waltz by their table again, as if summoned by Edward's swearing. "Desserts, gentlemen?" he asks.

"I'll have desserts," Ed says instantly, turning to Roy with a grin. "Desserts are fun."

 

In the end, Ed has three of them; he samples everything the restaurant offers. Roy sits and watches as Ed inhales the three slices of cake, so concentrated on his food that he pays Roy no heed - which, mercifully, leaves Roy to ogle Ed in peace.

The candle between them flickers and goes out with a puff of smoke. Roy blinks, and stares at the smouldering remains in the middle of the table; has it really been so long? Roy swiftly pulls the watch out of his pocket and snaps it open, and - indeed, the evening is well underway. Soon, it will be time for Roy to motion the waiter over and pay and say goodbye to his date, except that… Roy doesn't understand why he should.

Ed happily continues to work through his desserts, oblivious to the passage of time, and as Roy watches him, he realizes very suddenly that he is having fun. At some point, between Ed's sharp wit, his ability to keep Roy on his toes and push him to the very edge, and his apparent enjoyment of riling up the stiff staff, Roy forgot entirely about his promise to show Ed how joyful a nice restaurant can be, and instead let himself sit back and let Ed do the work. The evening flew by without Roy even noticing.

"Why the hell are you smirking?" Ed says suspiciously, pausing mid-bite with the fork hovering in front of his face, squinting at Roy.

Roy smiles. "I'm not," he says, and he's not lying.

 

"So," Roy says when they finally leave the restaurant, walking through the chilly, late summer air of Central. It's only a coincidence that they go in the same direction for the moment, Ed's hotel only a few blocks away from Roy's apartment. "Did you have fun?"

Ed hums. "I guess so," he says. "The food was actually kinda good, and the waiter looked like he was having heart palpitations any time he so much as looked my way."

Roy… can sympathize. "Well, you were acting extremely inappropriately at times," he says with a smile, looking at Ed from the corner of his eye.

Ed's eyes snap to Roy's, his face entirely blank. "Did you mind?"

"Only slightly," Roy tells him truthfully. "Mostly because I knew that if I started laughing, I would never be allowed to visit that establishment again, and that would be a shame. Especially now that I know their staff can be disturbed so wonderfully, and so easily."

Ed quirks an eyebrow, looking honestly taken aback, and then his lips turn up, up, up, into a wide, blinding grin. "Yeah," he says, and turns to look ahead. "I guess you were right, you bastard. I had fun."

"So did I," Roy admits quietly, barely audible enough for Ed to hear.

They walk for a few long moments in a comfortable silence, and Roy begins to dread the moment they will have to say goodbye for the night. Somehow, he managed to land himself in this situation without any effort of his part, like a happy accident. Now that he's thinking about it, he can't for the life of himself figure out how to repeat that.

Ed, of course, takes the reigns from Roy's hands completely, as usual. Perhaps Roy shouldn't find that as intriguing as he does, but then again… Roy always liked to play with fire, didn't he?

"Mustang," Ed says, his voice low, his tone uncertain. "Was this a date?"

Roy's heart stutters like a dying engine and then seems to stop. He purposefully doesn't look at Edward as he takes a deep breath and says, his voice perfectly calm and level, "Well, that rather depends on you."

Ed stops walking, and consequently, so does Roy. He turns slowly to face Ed, standing in the lamplight with a scowl on his face, his hands in his pockets defiantly. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"That means," Roy tells him, "that I don't want to do anything you would be uncomfortable with."

Ed hunches his shoulders. Standing only a few steps away, Roy can properly appreciate all the ways in which Ed grew; he's barely any shorter than Roy now, if at all. "I don't want to be just another one of your one night stands, Roy," he says quietly. Even his voice has changed - lower, calmer, more melodic.

Roy takes one step towards him, slowly closing the distance between them. "Ed," he says, "would you like to go out with me again?" Then he adds, "See? Now you're special."

Ed barks out a stunned, surprised laugh. "Wow. That's… actually kind of sad."

Roy sighs, deeply and with great affection. "I'm being serious, Ed - " he says, but he doesn't even get to finish the sentence, because Edward… pounces on him.

Before Roy knows it, while his eyes are still turned upwards to the sky, Ed takes his chance and makes the final move, closing the remaining distance between them, curling his fists in the lapels of Roy's coat and kissing him.

Roy is shocked into stillness for only a short moment; then, the joy kicks in, because not only is Edward kissing him - he's kissing him well. He lifts his hands from where they were frozen by his sides, and covers the sides of Ed's neck, keeps one of his gloved palms there and tangles the fingers of his other in the swinging strands of Edward's ponytail.

They stay like that for a while, until Ed breaks the kiss first. "Okay," he says, eyes wide and shiny on Roy's, lips red, cheeks flushed. His voice sounds rough and breathless. "Okay. Let's do this again, but this time, I pick the venue."

Roy doesn't realize how breathless he is himself until he opens his mouth to reply. "I don't know," he says, licks his lips, breathes in deeply. "I doubt your idea of a nice venue would be any fun."

"Huh," Ed says, smirking, and his fingers tighten in Roy's lapels. "I guess you'll just have to trust me to prove you wrong."

Roy smirks back at him, tugging at the end of Ed's ponytail slightly. "That sounds fair, I suppose."

Ed grins. "Deal," he says, and pulls Roy in for another kiss.