Scar Tissue

Truth be told, Ed's scars are extensive and somewhat horrifying. He knows this. He's made peace with this when he was twelve, when the red and pink welts on his shoulder and thigh paled in comparison to the metal attached to them. He never cared about them all that much; it wasn't like Winry's never seen them, it's not like Winry didn't know what he looked like under his clothes - shit, it's not like Winry hasn't seen worse.

But Roy… Shit, shit, Ed thinks, and pushes at the jagged line of imperfectly knitted skin where his automail used to be, curling across his collarbone under his fingers. Roy is fucking perfect, that's what he is, looks way fucking better than he should with an office job - and Ed?
Scar tissue is all Ed is.

He touches the scar on his side, feels the bile rise in his throat. He swallows it down, closes his eyes, and feels sick.

A moment later, there's soft padding of bare feet behind him; Ed blinks his eyes open and turns to Roy coming into his bedroom out of the shower, naked and shaped like a marbled god, which is entirely fucking unfair. He stops, looks Ed up and down and up again, stopping on his face, looking at him so intently Ed shifts under the weight of it. "What's wrong?" Roy asks, and moves to the bed. He pulls the towel from his waist and - and Ed stares at Roy's ass and then blushes so hard he can actually feel his own cheeks get hot - uses it to towel at his hair.

He turns to eye Ed when Ed fails to reply, and quirks an eyebrow at him. "Like what you see?" he says, voice completely dry.

You piece of shit, Ed thinks, even if the sentiment of it is fond. Don't be so smug, he thinks. Hell yeah, I do, he thinks - but what he says is, "Do you?" and then nearly bites his tongue in two with how hard he wishes to take the words back, because Roy - understands exactly what Ed means, judging by the startled look on his face.

He frowns, drops his hands to his sides. "Ed, what?"

Ed swallows nervously, and glares at him. "You heard me, didn't you?"

Roy looks at Ed calmly, eyes dark and deep and steady on Ed's. "Yes, Edward, I do happen to like what I see."

And because Ed can't stop, can't ever stop, and once he gets going he can't keep his mouth shut, he says, "But why?" and it comes out in a hoarse croak. Roy's eyes… Soften, and he looks at Ed with something like pity, and Ed hates it. "Don't look at me like that," he snaps.

"Like what?" Roy says, and at least his voice sounds the way it always does, level and smooth, even if his eyes are gentle. "Like I can't even believe you'd doubt yourself in this way?"

"Fuck you," Ed snaps, scowling.
"I would very much like to," Roy replies, like they're discussing the weather and not - well. "I operated under the impression that you knew that, but I see now that I was sorely mistaken." And with this, Roy is turning on the sultry look he perfected into a god damn art form, and Ed reacts in the same way he always does - by blushing. "I think," Roy says and sways closer to the bed. Ed scrambles back, tries not to blush harder, tries to keep the glare in place. "I think it's time I showed my appreciation of your body to you very thoroughly."

"Stop," Ed says.

"Make me," Roy replies, and his face is passive but there's playfulness in his voice, Ed can hear the grin.

Edward feels trapped, vulnerable under Roy's eyes. "I'm serious," he says, and it comes out rough, like a growl; dangerous and feral, like a caged animal.

Roy - stops. "What do you want me to do, then?" he says, obviously a little annoyed.

"I want you to be honest for one goddamn time in your life," Ed snaps, the anger a natural response to Roy's own frustrated tone.

Roy snorts. "Honest? When have I ever been dishonest with you, Edward?"

It sounds absurd.

Ed actually gapes at Roy the moment the words leave his mouth, too stunned to even laugh. Roy, to be fair, looks like he's regretting them instantly, jaw clamped shut, eyes wide on Ed.

"When have you - are you serious? My whole life, Mustang - you've turned being dishonest into your livelihood!"

The whole scene changes so rapidly; their interactions are rarely ever anything but tense, and never would Ed label them as sweet or pure, but Roy's eyes shut off the last remains of warmth so quickly and effectively as if Ed slapped him. "What exactly are you accusing me of here, Edward? Being dishonest in my own bed?" He pins Ed down with a stare so potent Ed squirms. "There's a term for that profession, and let me tell you, you don't pay me nearly enough for it."

And that's - that's like a bucket of ice cold water all over Ed. It jolts him to the marrow of his bones, makes him lightheaded; for a second, Ed considers just lying down and curling up and passing out, dying. Because the truth is, the entire, sad truth of this is that Ed has nothing; Ed has so little, emotional baggage and scar tissue, but everything he has he's given to Roy, and Roy -

"Well," Ed chokes out. "That's the most honest you've been with me since I was eleven, I guess."

Roy's shoulders slump, his face falls. "Ed," he says and reaches out a hand towards him, and Ed ducks underneath it as he scrambles out of the bed. "Ed, wait - "

"What for?" Ed asks and throws on his clothes haphazardly with shaky hands. "Until I'm enough for you?"

"Now you're being unfair," Roy says. "I've never said that."

"You might as well have," Ed replies. "I don't give you enough, how the hell else am I supposed to take it - "

"God damn it, Edward," Roy growls. "Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Won't put anything in your mouth ever again - " Ed barks and - realizes what he said, stops dead in his tracks, and turns to look at Roy, who stares back for a second, and - starts laughing. Ed can feel his cheeks go scarlet. "Shut the hell up, asshole," he says.

Roy sits down on the bed - he's still naked, and Ed has to remind himself to stop staring - and puts his head into his hands, and he laughs and laughs.

"You're a fucking jerk, you know that," Ed says sullenly.

Roy chuckles, takes a deep breath, and lifts his head up. "No, no, Ed, no. You're wonderful."

"And here you go again, lying through your teeth. Fucker."

Roy looks up at him, and the hint of a smile is still there, but it's... Soft. Sweet. Roy doesn't look like he's mocking Ed; he looks like he's happy. His voice is oddly sincere. "Ed, on my life, I wouldn't," he says and stands, crosses the short distance between them. "On my life, I wouldn't lie to you about this."

His hand brushes over Ed's collarbone; right over the nasty knot of a scar from the casing of his automail port, without hesitation, eyes on Ed's and no hint of repulsion there...

Ed's eyes flutter shut.