Nights out

Naturally, as the universe would have it, Edward Elric grows up to be the most baffling, contradictory, stunning creature Roy Mustang has ever seen. He squints at him over his fourth beer and thinks, When did this happen?, because it feels like the last time he looked, Edward was a slightly dorky-looking twelve year-old and not this -this - 

Ed throws his head back and laughs at something, and Roy can’t be bothered to listen to the conversation because of the line of Ed’s throat, the smooth fall of his hair, the way his eyes look almost brown in the low light, except for when they don’t, not really - 

Roy, of course, doesn’t realize just quite how obviously, how obnoxiously, he is staring at Edward until Ed’s finger mercilessly pokes him right between the eyes. Roy blinks, scrunches up his nose, and meets Ed’s glare. 

“Quit staring,” Ed hisses at him over his own glass, and Roy’s eyes involuntarily slide to where Ed’s fingers are slowly tracing lines in the condensation. He unpeels his tongue from the top of his mouth and licks his lips; and when he looks up to meet Ed’s eyes, Roy finds him instead staring at his mouth, a blush rising high in his cheeks. 

Well. 

“Pot, kettle. I see how it is,” Roy murmurs, smirks, looks at Ed through his lashes; he savours the startled expression on Ed’s face, the way his eyes widen, his head snaps back. He revels in it. 

Ed blushes harder and looks away, gulps down the rest of his beer before he turns back to Roy. That’s quite alright; Roy can wait. Ed leans forward, closer to Roy. “You’re so shit,” he says in a low voice, careful that no one else hears (as if it’s a secret, and Roy almost laughs at the absurdity of it); not that Roy’s worried, because Havoc and Breda are way too preoccupied with riling each other up to really notice anything Roy and Ed might be up to. 

He smirks, cocks an eyebrow, and relishes in how visibly flustered (how stunning, stunning, absolutely gorgeous in this light) Edward is. 

Leaving Breda and Havoc behind, Roy walks out into the cold, humid air of Central’s early spring, holds the door open for Ed. He leans on them only slightly, not drunk enough to sway but just enough to consider putting his hands on Ed - 

With a small smile, Roy takes a breath and opens his mouth to speak - and the next thing he knows, he’s being dragged by the front of his collar to the back of the building, out of sight; he’s being pushed against the wall, Ed’s breath hot on his face, his mouth. 

“You,” Ed breathes, hard, the sound coming from between his teeth like he can’t quite keep it in. “You love driving me up the fucking wall, don’t you?” he says, pushes against Roy harder. 

There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing seductive; Ed’s eyes are hard, searching, on Roy’s, the heavy press of his body… Roy should have known that this is what Edward would be like, demanding and unmovable, nothing like what Roy is used to, but so help him, Roy likes it. Roy wants this. 

“Why, Edward,” he says and catches one of Ed’s wrist, “and yet, between the two of us, I’m the one pinned against a wall." 

Ed growls, tightens his fists on the front of Roy’s coat until Roy’s afraid of it tearing, and then they’re kissing; Ed dives for Roy’s mouth like it’s a challenge, with enough force to snap Roy’s head back against the wall, but he kisses - he kisses like he knows what he’s doing, and oh gods - 

"I really, really have to stop thinking of you as a child,” Roy says when they break away, breathing hard. 

Ed stares at him for a few seconds, face completely blank, and then the corners of his mouth turn down. “Gross,” he says. “That’s probably the most fucked up thing I’ve heard you say.” But then he’s kissing him again, pressing against him like he’s just so determined to prove to Roy that, no, he’s definitely not a child anymore. 

Roy lets go of Ed’s wrists and slides his fingers against the sides of his face, tangles them in his hair. 

“Your place or mine?” Ed whispers against Roy’s lips. 

“Holy shit.” Havoc takes a long, long drag from his cigarette through shaking fingers. “Holy shit. Did you see - ?" 

"Yeah, I saw,” Breda says morosely, scowling at nothing over his glass. 

“Holy shit. Do you think they - " 

"Yeah." 

”Holy shit,“ Havoc breathes out and shakes his head slowly, lights another cigarette. "The chief… The boss!” He turns to Breda with wide eyes. “You think they thought we didn’t notice?" 

Breda nods gravely. "Yeah. Pretty sure." 

Havoc looks like he might be having a heart attack. Breda downs the rest of his beer and mutters under his breath, "Let’s just hope they don’t kill each other.”