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The Department of Mysteries has always made him twitchy.
Even before he and his team literally chased an undead experimental army through its twisting corridors, there was something about the air down here that raised his hackles. It felt like nothing in these halls had ever seen sunlight.
But it’s getting a little better now, he muses, winding his way past subordinates levitating stacks of books and boxes behind them. They nod to him as he passes. One of his first acts as Minister for Magic involved a thorough inspection of the entire department, and clear orders to shut down and dispose quietly of any other dangerous projects.
Roy reaches the door he was looking for — at the end of a corridor deep in the gut of the department — and is met with a faceful of squirming lab assistant. The man crumples, squeaks out a terrified “Minister!”, and dashes off down the corridor. From inside the room comes a crash, a string of swears and “INSPECTION MY ASS!”
Taking that as his cue, Roy slips into the room and into the smirk he knows Ed hates, and saunters up to the mess of papers and quills on the floor. “Unspeakable Elric! When will you stop terrorising my employees?”
Edward Elric whips around in all his fuming, golden-eyed glory. “I wasn’t terrorising him! Look at the mess he made!”
Roy doesn’t even blink. “Fair enough,” he concedes, “it probably would’ve been more like terrorising if you were taller.” As usual, that’s enough to set Ed off. And as usual, Roy’s content to sit back and watch steam blow out of the Unspeakable’s ears.
His swearing segueing into low muttering, Ed squats and starts sorting through the papers on the floor. And just like that, Roy’s frozen. He has a hand on his wand and a question on his lips, and he’s frozen.
This is Edward Elric, youngest Unspeakable ever to be named, Transfiguration genius, incredible dueller, Wizarding World war hero — trying to put his notes back in order manually because he has no choice. Because he… Roy lost his sight once, but he can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose the magic that lives in his very core.
He lets go of his wand, brushes out his robes as he kneels on the floor, and starts sorting through the notes too. He doesn’t look at Ed, but he knows the other man glances at him once, feels the fleeting weight of that amber gaze. “Where’s Al?” Roy asks instead.
“St. Mungo’s.” Ed sounds almost relieved to be talking again. “Routine check-up, ‘cause the Healers still aren’t sure how a soul transplant is going to affect him. But, well—“ There’s that sarcastic drawl. “—it was literally done by the best wizard ever: me. Al’s gonna be just fine.” A pause. Ed adds, quieter, “That’s what the Veil promised me anyway.”
“The Veil’s still here?” Roy asks. “I don’t feel the…”
“Creepiness? The overrated vibe of death and decay?” Only Ed can make an ominous object of death sound like it should be ashamed of itself. “It’s been dormant. Still in the other room though.”
Roy nods. “Good. Your orders remain—“
“The same, I know.” Ed’s rolling his eyes, tossing that braid over his shoulder, and Roy finds that he’s missed talking business with Edward Elric. “Find a way to seal it, or blow it to pieces. Easy peasy, except I can’t, because everything Al and I have tried hasn’t done jack shit.”
Roy raises an eyebrow. “But you’re the most destructive force I know, Fullmetal.” The nickname’s out of his mouth before he can think to stop it, and Ed’s gaze shutters.
“Not anymore.”
Roy knows better than to say anything in return. He holds his gaze instead, holds it steady and strong the way Ed had always met his eyes during the war, even when Roy had felt Maes’ absence like a hole rending the very air. There are no words for loss, and both of them knew that all too well.
Ed smiles a little at him, a quirk of his lips that Roy misses the instant it’s gone, and takes the rest of the papers he had in his hands, rising smoothly to his feet. “I’ve been trying other ways,” he says, waving some of the notes at Roy. They’re covered in markings, rough and messy — symbols Roy can’t even begin to decipher. “Did you take Ancient Runes in Third Year?”
“I found Muggle Studies and Arithmancy to be far more practical.”
Ed mimes choking. “Boring ass prude. Who chooses electives based on practicality?” There’s a bit of light back in his eyes, and that’s enough for Roy to follow along.
“Well,” he shrugs. It settles the shoulders of his Minister robes a little better on his frame. “Look where practicality got me.”
“Literally the stuffiest position in the entire Wizarding World,” Ed nudges him with an elbow— aren’t they standing a little too close? “Wait a few years and you’ll be an old coot like the rest of them.” Roy’s about to take a step back when Ed spreads some of his notes out on the table. “Anyway, I was originally just looking at Runes ‘cause they’re basically carved into the Veil itself. I thought they could be some sort of instruction manual? Or something like a controller spell?” Ed tugs at his braid. “Wait, okay, it’s easier to just show you.”
He shifts, pulls a box to him and pulls out a strange, square grey object, with a glass cover on one end and a screen on the other. Ed laughs at him a little, maybe for the confused look on his face. “Didn’t you say you took Muggle Studies?”
“I was far more preoccupied with their political cultures, thank you very much,” Roy snipes, and Ed’s grin just widens.
“It’s a camera, bought it in a Muggle electronics shop.” His smile drops a shade. “Makes things a little more convenient.” He flicks a knob and presses a few buttons, and turns the screen to show Roy a recording. “This is just me, on one of the days that Al went to the hospital. Look,” he swipes a thumb over the Veil. “It’s not moving.” Roy shifts closer, and he’s right — the black cloth covering the entrance of the stone archway isn’t moving at all. Ed presses another button to show a recording of him and Al in the room with the Veil, but Roy doesn’t need it to know that there’d be a ghostly, otherworldly wind blowing through the archway.
Ed puts the camera down, and he’s getting a little more animated now. “So it’s safe to say that the Veil literally doesn’t do anything if you don’t have magic. And I went and looked at the Runes — that took ass long by the way — and it’s a pretty safe assumption too. That the Runes carved into the stone here don’t really contain power of their own. It’s just sucking in magic and redirecting it for another purpose. Namely stripping away your soul and casting you into oblivion if you don’t make some sacrifice.”
His grin has a bit of the familiar sharpness from the war, but all Roy can think about is if that’s true, and the Veil does nothing in Ed’s presence— Ed’s not even a Squib. He’s… there’s not a lick of magic in him that the Runes would respond to. And suddenly all of this just hurts: bright, golden Ed in the drab grey basement of the Department of Mysteries, his eyes dull and a little sunken. And Roy knows, because he knows Edward Elric, that he’s been smiling at his brother and Winry and all his other friends, because there is no way that Ed would let himself disrupt their peace and happiness, and especially Al’s recovery. He’s been avoiding them, probably, working here in the gut of the Ministry; going out to the Muggle world to buy Muggle technology to substitute for what was once natural and unthinking; learning Ancient Runes from scratch to destroy, but perhaps also on the painful off-chance he could use it in place of magic.
Ed’s turned away, but he’s still talking. “—don’t believe me, I asked Falman to look through the Ministry records and the Veil hasn’t ever been seen by anyone without magic, technically, so this might really change things. Any destructive magic or whatever hasn’t worked — we could consider just shifting it to the Muggle world. Secure location, no magic, safe for everyone, ta-dah.
“Anyway,” he turns back to face him. “Since you’re here and Al isn’t and I’m still not really sure what this Rune does, let me borrow your magic?” He places a piece of parchment in front of Roy and explains, “I’ve isolated the Rune, I just need you to sort of. Poke it with your magic a little so the system here can have a little juice to run.”
Roy looks at him, and sees nothing but the trademark Elric earnest, straightforward curiosity, and sighs. “This better be safe,” he says, reaching for the drawing.
“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly—“
Ed was wrong, Roy thinks, in that split second before disaster. He’s still the most destructive force Roy has ever known.
-
“I’m not going to St. Mungo’s! Shut up!” Ed’s cursing, squirming where he’d landed on the ground.
“You literally have no idea what that just did,” Roy points out, casting diagnosis spell after diagnosis spell from his limited combat healing experience. Nothing seems to be wrong, but nothing’s explaining Ed’s almost allergic behaviour.
“Neither do you! Why don’t you go to St. Mungo’s then?” comes his muffled answer. “Shit, I’m itchy all over.
“I feel fine,” Roy says, and it’s actually true for once. “Well, you can’t stay here.”
“Listen, Al can’t find out. Okay?” Ed glares up at him. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
Roy sighs. “No, you won’t.” Ed swears at him, and Roy puts his wand away, settles a hand on Ed’s chest. “Listen, owl Al, tell him you’re going to do some research, and I’ll give some excuse to Riza. I’ll take you—“ He shoots Ed a warning look as he opens his mouth. “—obviously not back to your flat with your brother, I’m not stupid.” He pauses, sighs, because there really isn’t a choice, is there? “I’ll take you to mine.”
-
Roy’s a bachelor, and he lives like one unashamedly. Everything is neat and tidy of course, but there’s more likely to be butterbeer in the cabinets than milk, and he literally owns only two mugs, both of which are steaming on the kitchen counter right now.
Jerking his teabag around with one hand, writing intently with another, Ed seems entirely in his own world. Roy resists the urge to roll his eyes, because only Edward Elric would see this an opportunity to record observations of an experiment, when the test subject was himself.
He slides the finished eggs onto the fried rice and tops it off with tomato sauce. “Finish all of it, alright?”
Ed’s pen pauses. “You’re not eating?” His other hand comes up to scratch hard at his forearm and Roy has to suppress the urge to grab his fingers and make him stop.
“I’m going out,” he says, checking his pocket for the piece of parchment that had set off the reaction. “Finish the food, Fullmetal.”
He’s eating already, writing with the other hand, and Roy gives up and leaves.
Getting to Madam Christmas’ bar just off Diagon Alley took him less than a few minutes with a quick Apparition. Actually getting to her, though, took a lot longer than that.
“Roy!” His foster mother’s girls surround him the moment he steps into the bar. “Finally made Minister, eh?” “Why didn’t you come visit right after?” “Yeah, we could celebrate.” “Give you anything you want, hm?”
He puts his hands up in defence. “Girls, girls,” he says, in mock apology. “Believe me, if I could, I would’ve come right away.” He winks at one and places a smacking kiss on the hand of another, earning laughter. This bar was his childhood home, and his foster mother’s girls his sisters and friends. They hug him and kiss him on the cheek, and push him in the direction of the stairs.
To his surprise, Vanessa’s with his aunt in her office, and he nods for her to stay when he enters. “My apologies for the sudden visit, Madam Christmas,” he says.
“Roy-boy,” she says, “save the platitudes for people who actually care.”
“Vanessa’s the only person I know who has a working understanding of Runes,” he tells her, holding up that piece of parchment. “We had some kind of reaction with this one earlier today, but I’m trying to keep this quiet.” He explains what had happened to Ed, complete with the lack of anything from diagnosis spells and the mysterious itching and scratching.
Vanessa takes the parchment and examines the Rune, as Madam Christmas creaks to her feet. “I presume you don’t need me for this?” Roy shrugs, and his aunt huffs, moving out the room, but not before brushing at the lapel of his Minister robes.
Meanwhile, Vanessa’s shifted closer, leaning in like she’s scenting him the way she used to do when he was younger. She’s Madam Christmas’ right hand, part-Veela and as ambitious as she is beautiful. He’s had his whole childhood to get used to her though — her white-gold hair and skin, and the sinuous way she moves — so the allure hardly affects him anymore.
“Have you been around another Veela recently?” she asks. Roy shakes his head. “You smell like one. This too,” she holds up the parchment. “And the Rune here? I can’t really say without the context, assuming it’s copied from a set somewhere else, but it means something like bonding, or the creation or reveal of a bond, whether in life or spirit or magic.”
Roy considers this. “Is it that common, that you’d know just from looking at it? Unspeakable Elric said he couldn’t find its meaning after researching.”
Vanessa’s full lips twist into a smirk. “That’s not surprising. It’s a rarely used one — I only know it from Veela mating ceremonies.”
He has to sit down at that. Veela mating ceremonies?
“You said he had a reaction to this?” she continues. “And it was your magic in the rune?” Roy nods. “And this is Edward Elric, the one who lost his magic last month?” Roy casts her a look. That’s not common knowledge and she knows that. She smirks at him again.
“Here’s my theory, Roy-boy,” Vanessa says, leaning forward. “Edward Elric has golden hair and golden eyes and probably dormant Veela genes. This,” she flicks perfect nails at the Rune, “probably triggered some kind of awakening, especially with the absence of his magic, so his body latched on to it instead.”
Roy swallows. Okay. “And the symptoms he’s been having?”
Vanessa tosses her golden tresses and fixes him with a look of what he can only describe as hungry anticipation. “The itching and all that? They'll fade -- just a new kind of magic settling in. It’s a sign of Veela sexual maturity.”
Roy chokes.
2.
Ed doesn’t take Vanessa’s hypothesis well. He takes it even worse when they discreetly ask Mei — who’s taken to her position as youngest ever head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures like a panda to bamboo — to look into it, and she turns up at Roy’s place with badly concealed humour and a stack of books on Veelas. Books on Veelas and their process of sexual maturity.
“So, what, this is wizarding puberty part two?!” Ed fumes later that afternoon. He’s refused to leave Roy’s home — “What if I affect Al with my sexual maturity?” — but he did explain the situation to his brother at the very least. Answering Al’s persistent calls fell to Roy though. At this point Roy’s just following along because he’s seen Vanessa sprout claws before, and honestly the thought of Ed with talons and the ability to throw fireballs rivalling his own spells makes him want to take shelter.
“Maybe this time you’ll actually grow,” Roy says, signing another announcement.
“Shut up.” Ed closes his book with a snap, and Roy groans in answer because he’s neck-deep in the paperwork he missed the day before. Thank the gods it’s a Saturday and so Riza isn’t threatening him in the office.
He senses more than sees Ed come up behind him. There are hands on his shoulders suddenly, and Roy tenses. “Mustang,” Ed says. “Let’s spar.”
“Spar. Now?” He looks incredulously from his quill to his stacks of parchment and back to the hands on his shoulders.
“Yes. Now,” Ed says, and begins tugging. “I don’t know why but I’m practically vibrating with energy. It’s like magic but more. Physical?” His voice turns introspective, but then he starts pulling harder. “So let’s spar. No wands, just hand-to-hand. I know you’ve had Auror training, don’t start pretending now.”
Roy groans again and tosses his quill on the table in defeat. He lets the shorter man manoeuvre him into the narrow garden space behind his house
“Come on, Mustang.” Ed shakes himself out, lithe and strong. “Isn’t this nostalgic, me kicking your ass?”
“Now, now, Edward Elric,” Roy says. “Seems you and I remember pre-war training a little differently.”
All he gets its a flash of a toothy grin, and Ed’s on him like a whirlwind, arms and legs snapping out. Roy knows him though, knows this showy, flashy style, and bides his time. Something’s making Ed faster today, slightly more on edge, and it shows in his movements. Roy blocks a viper-fast jab at his face, slides past an uppercut at his ribs, slaps a knee down and waits for… he catches Ed’s leg by the ankle when his kick is mid-way to his face, yanks the lighter man closer — he can’t resist giving him a smirk as Ed’s eyes flash in irritation — hooks his own ankle around Ed’s supporting leg and upends the man.
He backs up and is just about to gloat a little — the adrenaline rush is a little nostalgic, especially since he took on the Minister job — but Ed’s bouncing onto his feet with a growl in a matter of seconds. There’s something sharper in his gaze, something more angular in his body, and his gait’s turned into a kind of predatory stalk. And there’s a split second, here, where Roy’s pinned in place, like the world’s narrowed to a point.
The afternoon rays kiss Ed’s face, setting his skin glowing, highlighting the flush of exertion riding high on his cheeks, as if this is its only reason for arcing over the garden wall. Ed’s braid is loose, messy, spun gold, drops of sweat like diamonds at the ends. He’s stalking forward like he’s hunting, eyes like galleons, and that sinuous grace reminds Roy of Vanessa and her performances on Friday nights, when the bar would fill with both men and women eager to catch a flash of her gaze, her hair, her skin — and that familiar exploitative feeling that always reminds him of is enough for him to snap out of it.
It buys him enough time to throw up a forearm to block his face — but that hook turns out to be a feint, and opens his ribs up to a punishing uppercut. Roy absorbs the impact and tips himself forward to grab Ed’s shoulder. “You’re using your allure,” he manages, and Ed stops. Roy vaguely realises that he’s grown to just a bit shorter than himself.
“Like Veela allure?” Ed asks. He’s panting too, a little, and his breath goes whooshing past Roy’s ear.
“Yeah.”
“Shit, what does that even mean?” Ed’s arm bends and slings right round his waist, palm warm on his back. Roy thinks he doesn’t even notice, and to be honest he doesn’t even need help walking or anything, but he just lets it happen. “Okay, I gotta…” Ed turns and Roy follows, and they walk back inside together.
After that is… strange, but not bad, to say the least. Ed hits the books again, but not before Roy makes him shower. He keeps reading right through dinner, devouring both the books and his food. (Roy doesn’t think about how he cooks for Ed basically every night now)
Roy tries, but fails to concentrate on paperwork, though the next time he checks the clock it’s late, nearing what Ed calls his “old man bedtime”. He sighs, and puts his quill down for the night. “Maybe when you’re done with these I can get you more books from the Ministry library,” he says, eyeing the stack of four books at Ed’s elbow.
“What?” Ed glances over. “No, that’s the done pile.”
“It hasn’t even been a day and you’re on the second last one?” Ed flaps a hand. “Well,” Roy decides not to think too hard about it. “Good night, Ed.”
He catches a flash of gold as Ed lifts his gaze from the book for a second. “Night, Mustang.”
-
Roy wakes up the next day to a very noticeable silence. The past two days involved waking up to cursing, either from the living room with Ed swearing at a book, or from the kitchen with Ed swearing at eggs and cooking appliances till Roy stumbles down the stairs to make breakfast.
He wants to savour the little bit of extra time to doze off on a weekend but there’s a distinctly wrong feeling in the air. A wrong feeling that’s confirmed when he looks through the entire house and doesn’t find one Edward Elric.
The guest bedroom is empty, except for a weird pile of clothes, the kitchen is untouched, and Ed’s boots are gone. The only trace of him left are the five books left on the dining table.
He firecalls Al, who picks up in seconds.
“Minister!” He sounds harried and concerned, and that doesn’t bode well at all. “Before you ask, yes, Brother’s with me and he’s perfectly fine.” Roy opens his mouth. “No, I don’t think it was anything you did — please don’t worry! It’s just… Brother’s in a bit of a state right now? Okay, he’s telling me not to say anything about it to you. I’m sorry.” Al’s apology at least sounds sincere.
Roy sighs. He feels out of sorts, though that wrong feeling has faded to a dull throb rather than warning sparks. He tells Al that it’s fine, that he understands, and that he hopes Ed gets better soon. He gives them Madam Christmas’ address too, just in case they need to go see Vanessa. Better that Ed has access to someone who actually knows what’s going on, without having to go through Roy for that.
Al tells him not to worry too much, and that he’ll beat some sense into his brother — for what reason Roy isn’t really sure, but he just accepts it and thanks him. Experience has taught him that Al’s the only one of the Elrics that actually uses his brain for more than magic and research.
After that’s done, he goes back into the guest bedroom. There’s a pile of clothes on the bed, arranged in a loose circle like Ed had been sleeping curled up in the middle of them. Upon closer inspection — Roy lifts up a shirt — these are his clothes. Stiff work robes, sleep shirts worn thin… Ed must have been stealing these from the back of his closet when he’d gone to work. And looking at the strange little circle of clothes right now? Roy doesn’t know what to think. He tells himself to withhold judgement. There has to be a logical explanation.
He goes back out, flips through the books Ed had left behind, and pauses. Then he firecalls Mei, bypassing the Ministry Floo Network because well, these robes have to be more than just a burden sometimes.
“Mei, my apologies for the sudden call,” he says as she looks up. The miniature panda she keeps as a pet is gives him a tiny growl. “You lent Ed six books, yes?”
“What— yes, I did.” She puts down her quill and leans closer. “What’s this about?”
“Not to worry, just— I have five books here, can you tell me the title of the last one?”
He rattles off the titles, and she goes, “Oh, yes! You’re missing More than Mates: A Veela Guide to Imprinting, Nesting and Bonding.”
“More than Mates?” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound very scientific, Mei.”
“It’s perfectly objective facts,” she tells him. “And Al called to tell me about Ed finding him last night?” When Roy says nothing, she continues, “I know there’s another copy of that book at the Ministry library. I’ve a feeling you might need it.” She ends the call, like that was supposed to answer all of Roy’s questions.
3.
It’s safe to say that Roy does his research.
He burns through the book Ed left with in a day. Then he reads the books Ed left behind. Once he’s done with those he finds more in the library using their bibliographies, and finishes those too. He tells Riza not to worry when he starts finishing paperwork early to make time for this research, and she eyes him like she knows exactly what’s going on — she does, because she knows everything. In the end she just tells him to be careful, and to be patient.
The upside of Riza being on his side in this case is that she starts clearing his schedule. She starts pushing meetings up, rushing him through paperwork, opening up time like she’s preparing for him taking a vacation. Roy trusts her, and doesn’t question.
A week goes by like that, and his head is full of words like “imprinting” and “pre-bonding” and “physical attachment”. And by the evening Vanessa sets his doorbell ringing like an alarm, sets Edward Elric at his door and informs him “Here’s the idiot”, Roy’s made his decision.
Reading about bond deprivation and actually seeing it are two different things though. Ed’s weak and shivery and lists towards Roy as Vanessa steps away with a wink. But he holds himself fairly upright, though Roy has to consciously stop himself from reaching over to steady him. They need to talk, and touching Ed now would destroy all chances of that.
Moving into the better light in the living room shows Roy that Ed is pale and dull, the way he looked after losing his magic entirely. This triggering of a Veela transformation might never allow him to do magic the way he had before ever again, but there’s a different sort of magic in him now, and Roy will do everything in his power to make sure Ed comes out of this happy again, regardless of how their talk goes.
They take their seats, and Ed shifts a little, hands twitching. Roy waits.
“I’m sorry about running away,” Ed says, finally, and that seemed to unstopper the flood of words he had. “I just. I read the book about the mating and got scared. Because it was basically everything I was doing and feeling. And I didn’t know why I felt that way till I read it — I was literally nesting, like a goddamn bird,” Ed says that like he still can’t believe it, staring at his curled fists on the table. Roy nods though Ed can’t see. “And I talked to Al and Winry and Mei about it. Al made me go ask Vanessa—“
Ed glances at him and Roy keeps his expression open, his gaze steady. “—and she talked me through. Just, everything.” He huffs out a laugh. “And she told me I was an idiot for leaving my nest and basically starving myself of my—“ Ed stutters to a stop. Mate. Roy knows he was going to say mate. “But I just had to be sure, you know?”
Roy has to resist the urge to reach across the table and hold his hands. “Ed,” he says, because somehow, somewhen, Edward Elric has gone from subordinate to friend with shared trauma to Ed. “Ed, look at me.” And Ed raises his head and meet his eyes and Roy holds his gaze till he sees that familiar burnished strength and he says, “You don’t have to apologise for leaving. I completely understand why you did so, and I don’t blame you for it.”
He takes a breath, puts his thoughts in order. Ed’s wide-eyed, waiting. “While I wish I could be telling you this under less pressing circumstances,” he starts, “because, believe me, Ed, you deserve to be wined and dined and showered with gifts and I wish I could have given you that before this, at least— I need you to understand that I’m not being forced into this. You’ve read it in the books, and the others have probably told you, but I need you to know that I wasn’t forced into this. A bond doesn’t form like that. I have always liked spending time with you, and while I never considered this a possibility—“ He holds up a hand. “— mostly because of our ages and positions, I know — know that I chose this, unconsciously. And I am choosing this now, consciously.”
He extends a hand, palm up. “You said you had to be sure, before. So are you sure now?”
Ed’s eyes are wide and shocked and utterly certain when he breathes out “Yes” and practically vaults over the table and into Roy.
Roy catches him, just barely, and for a moment they are still in space, standing trapped in each other’s embrace. Ed squeezes hard and says, “I’m sorry.”
And Roy can’t not free his hands then — he frames Ed’s face, fingertips brushing his hairline, thumbs where his spun-gold eyelashes meet his cheeks, and kisses his forehead. “No,” he tells him. “Don’t apologise. I consider myself lucky that this happened, understood? I think you are beautiful, because your soul and spirit shine into everything you do, and I saw that before the war, during the war, after the war even when you were dealt the worse thing I could’ve ever imagined for anyone. I think you are strong, and I want to be your safe haven when you are weak.”
Ed tilts his head up, cheeks warming under Roy’s palms. He searches his eyes and seems to find whatever he was looking for, because he smiles. He asks, “Are you always this sappy? Or is it ‘cause I accidentally roofied you with my Veela-ness?”
Roy opens his mouth to tell Ed no, this is more than that, this is me committing because you and I have pulled each other in and out of danger like a never-ending dance; and Roy knows what some will say, that he’s exploiting a young man, trapping him under his thumb, but it’s really the opposite of that, and it might be the feel of Ed’s skin under his hands now, but he’d genuinely be glad to fall to his knees for this man, to give him everything, to be everything for him. Edward Elric is gold given form — pure, precious, an unwavering kind of good that’s as hard to find as rare metal.
Roy opens his mouth tell Ed all of that, but the shorter man is already surging up to catch his lips, eyes shut, closed mouth, sweet and insistent pressure. His hands shift without him thinking, one to Ed’s nape, fingers spreading below that braid, another to lock round his waist. He bears down, tilts their heads and licks at the seam of Ed’s lips, comes up for air and ducks his head to nip at the tawny skin under his jaw, and Ed is cooing, little involuntary exhales, a bird with clipped wings finding its way home.
And Roy tamps his words down, focuses on this moment, because he knows they’ll have time, time to tell Ed every single one of these things.