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Ed opens his eyes to the insistent patter of rain on the bedroom window, cutting through the soft yellow glow of his bedside lamp which he’d apparently left on all night again. That combined with Roy’s unnaturally warm body has made the room almost uncomfortably hot. The alarm clock is still ticking peacefully- meaning it must already be Saturday. So Ed makes no move to leave his little nest of blankets and pillows.
The world is still fuzzy and Roy’s left elbow is resting on the top of Edward’s head as he runs his fingers over some dumbass important Fuhrer-y document.
Somehow, Ed doesn’t think he’s ever been as content as he is right now here in bed with Roy to his right and Hayate at their feet, listening to the sound of the rain from their warm, safe room.
But then again, he’s hungry as fuck, so it would be nice to get the breakfast show on the road as soon as possible.
“Morning,” he mumbles into Roy’s abdomen because it’s a start and he can’t bring himself to move yet.
Roy reaffirms this notion by making a little fold in the side of whatever he’s reading so he’ll be able to pick up where he left off later, and reaching for a few locks of Ed’s hair to twirl between his fingers.
“Good morning, dear,” he says, aiming his empty grey eyes in the approximate direction of Ed’s limp form and smiling.
“‘Thought I told you not to call me that.” Ed’s speech is muffled by Roy’s shirt but he doesn’t really care.
“Would you prefer I call you my little muffin?”
“Fuck you, Mustang.”
“You know what? I was trying to be nice, but maybe you really are just the little gremlin Winry so often implies you are.”
“Nice my ass. You called me little. Twice.”
“It’s endearing, Edward.”
“Oh so you do know my name. Glad to know you won’t be totally useless today.” Ed gestures towards the watery assault on the window even though Roy can’t see it.
“Very funny.”
“It’s endearing, Roy,” Edward says in a passable imitation of his fiancé’s much deeper voice.
“Touché,” Roy sighs and his fingers skim over Ed’s forehead.
“Breakfast?”
“Fuck yes.”
“Lovely.” Roy carefully sets the five-ish sheets of thick braille-paper he was reading onto the bedside table and stands.
Edward is always caught off guard by just how fucking good Roy looks- even completely blind, even less than an hour after waking up, even after an unholy amount of sex last night- he still manages to pull off that sophisticated old-timey vibe which is as annoying as it is amazing.
He self consciously runs a hand through his hair and throws on a sweatshirt in case the paparazzi’s decided to return to the kitchen window. One time being featured in Central Times shirtless and making out with the Fuhrer on their countertop had been quite enough.
They decide to let Hayate sleep- he spent all day working yesterday at some diplomatic function- and migrate downstairs. Roy trails his hand along the wall, but it’s really not necessary considering how loudly Edward tends to clomp around.
They eat pancakes every Saturday. It’s really the only day either of them ever have time for breakfast; Edward’s position at the university and Roy’s position as Fuhrer have them both out of bed at the asscrack of dawn on the weekdays.
Roy gets the stove going with what Ed considers to be an extremely unwarranted show of alchemy, sending sparks in the shape of little animals across the kitchen. Fucking show off.
“See?” Roy says proudly. “Not useless.”
“Whatever, Bastard. You’re still blind.”
“And you’re still short.”
“Don’t. Call. Me. Small.”
“Noted.” Roy’s got that shit-eating grin again as he feels around the kitchen for pancake ingredients. Fucking gorgeous. Ed needs coffee. Thankfully, it looks like Roy already made some last night.
The actual measuring part of the pancake making isn’t really something Roy can do passably (they’ve tried), so he fills up Hayate’s bowl and disappears upstairs to wake him.
The rain continues as they eat and Roy debates Edward on the best alchemic array for transmuting francium until Ed suggests they try out both outside. Francium being debatably the most water-reactive element in existence, that would probably result in the destruction of Central City, but Ed can frankly think of worse ways to go out.
The phone rings just as Ed is helping himself to a fourth pancake. If it’s who he thinks it is again, he might actually throw the receiver into the wall-
“Good morning Edward!” Damn it. He can’t stay mad at that voice. “Win and I were just calling about the wedding,” says Alphonse lightly. Ed pauses to dramatically roll his eyes. And Roy picks that moment to sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist.
“C’mon, Ed” says Winry from the other end of the line.
“If you two aren’t gonna plan your own wedding, someone’s gotta do it. Roy’s the Fuhrer for God’s sake.” Roy groans into Ed’s shoulder.
“I can see where this is going,” he says.
“No you can’t,” Ed whispers back as softly as he can so Winry won’t reprimand him for the blind joke. It earns him a well placed elbow to the gut, which is probably fair. Roy wraps himself even tighter.
“...and pink magnolias for the mantelpiece?” Alphonse is saying.
“Umm yeah sounds great. Thanks Al, really.”
“Did you hear a word I just said, brother?”
“Yeah something about mantels and flowers.”
“He’s a basket case, Win,” Alphonse says loudly enough for the phone to pick it up. “
Watch your tone, Al. I’m still your older brother you know.”
“Right, well Win’s got a client and I’ve got work. If I got back to you about the time and place of your wedding would you at least show up?” He’s being sarcastic, but Ed has to use this opportunity to his advantage.
“Aw thanks, Al you’re amazing! Have I told you how perfect you are yet today? I love you be safe-“
“Love you too, Brother” Al sighs and there’s a faint click when he hangs up.
Roy spends the afternoon in a combination working and massaging Ed’s leg while Ed reads some of the textbooks from the University’s library. If he’s being honest, the promise of an extensive library was one of the main reasons he’d even taken a job there. But it turns out he actually really enjoys teaching. No other profession can incite fear in the minds of the young and vulnerable quite like it.
They order Xingese takeout because neither of them really feels like making pancakes again- and that’s quite literally the only thing either of them knows how to cook. The sky slowly turns black, but the rain still hasn’t let up.
While they wait for dinner, Ed sets one of Mustang’s old records on the record player in the living room and Roy immediately perks up. He saunters over in Ed’s direction, still in those stupid fancy silk pajamas. He bows slightly and extends an arm.
“May I have this dance?” He asks with just the right amount of arrogance in his voice. Ed feels his heart melt into a puddle in his rib cage.
“Why of course, Fuhrer Mustang,” he replies, trying to channel as much ‘posh diplomat’ as possible. He takes Roy’s stupid, gorgeous hand and leads him to the space in the room where they are least likely to hit something, and they fall into step.
“Remember that day when Hawkeye forced me to teach you how to waltz?” Roy asks, smiling.
“You mean at that party like ten years ago?”
“Mmhm”
“The one where me and Al made the chocolate fountain explode?”
“Sounds about right.” Roy flings Ed outward and spins him. And Ed forgets what he was talking about. He forgets his own name. For a second, he just allows himself to dissolve into dizzy giggles and wrap his arms- it really is nice having two- around Roy’s neck.
They’re still kind of dancing but the music has faded into the background. Roy’s faded eyes land somewhere around Ed’s right eyebrow and he leans in closer.
“I love you, Edward Elric,” Roy says matter-of-factly.
“Love you too, Bastard.” Then it just becomes too much for him and he presses his lips against Roy’s at full force. Ed’s stomach drops when he feels Roy’s foot on his own a split second before they go crashing to the floor.
And Edward doesn’t think he’s laughed this hard in his life. Here on the floor, tangled up in Roy, rain thrumming against the rooftop while Hayate frantically sniffs at both of them to make sure they’re okay. And of course the guy with their Xingese food picks this moment to knock on the door.
It’s pretty fucking good