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Though it’s not quite spring, the deep Amestrian winter is over its hump, and the frequent snow and hail have turned to lukewarm rains. Partially to save dwindling funds (and partially because they all know they’ve slept in worse), Ed, Greedling, Darius and Heinkel decide to camp outside despite looming rain clouds. It’s not the first time anyone’s had to share a tent. Most of those other times, though, Ling has been there to help set up.
The last few days, Ed feels like he’s seen Ling less and less. He doesn’t want to think that Ling’s avoiding him— though he can understand the need for a break— but doesn’t feel like Greed really loves taking on his head-mate’s responsibilities. The homunculus usually doesn’t want to spar with Ed or, for that matter, put extra strain on the group by actively refusing to help with foraging and cooking rather than switch Ling in for manual labor. Ed wonders what kind of deal the prince has struck to stay inside so long.
He’s set up tents alone before. It’s not particularly difficult, but he takes his time, careful to face away from Greed. He tries to sound ultra-casual, totally not prying, just wondering, between bros:
“So, Greed.” He takes a moment to glance over his shoulder while he Very Casually cracks his neck. Greed looks up.
“Yeah?”
“How’s, uh, Ling doing in there? He seems pretty quiet lately.”
“Prince is fine. Just taking some space. You miss him already?”
Ed drops a stake onto his automail foot and yelps. It’s not really out of pain.
“So what?”
“Not that I care to involve myself in the affairs of tweenage humans, but I don’t want any tension in the group. It’s bad vibes, and I have to live with the consequences of any drama. At least for another month.”
“Is that why you’re keeping Ling locked up?”
Greed’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”
“To keep him from starting shit.”
Greed throws his head back and lets out a harsh, single-syllable laugh. When he moves back to face Ed, it’s with a toothy smirk.
“Kid, it takes two. Are you done with that tent yet? My joints are telling me the rain’ll start in like, ten minutes.”
Ed grimaces. “It’d go a lot faster if I had some help.”
“Well, Darius and Heinkel are busy with their own tent.”
Ed groans. It’s not worth it.
Once the tent is set up, Ed takes a couple minutes to splash some water on his face, let down his ponytail, and take a piss. He returns to the tent to find two sleeping bags laid out.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you, kid.”
“Tch.” Ed rolls his eyes as Greed leans forward to turn out their oil lamp. It’s dark, but the ambient light from Darius and Heinkel’s tent is enough for Ed to navigate to his sleeping bag. He lies on top of it.
“Goodnight. Don’t try anything.” Ed yelps.
“I’m not gonna try anything on you fucking! Ancient— demon. Old man. Ew. Fuck.”
“Good one. You wanna say that to the prince’s face?”
Ed turns his face into the bag and groans.
Greed chuckles but quiets down afterwards. Soon enough, Ed hears his breathing change: long, shallow, steady. He’s alone now, albeit with Darius and Heinkel’s chatter a few feet away. He wonders if Ling’s asleep.
He’s shared a tent with Ling most nights. The prince always goes to sleep on his back, but he usually shifts and stirs during the night. Ed’s woken up to find him entirely upside down, head pressing against the entrance of the tent, neck at an impossible angle. Ling and Greed both seem to love sleeping in, and because Ed can’t stand it, he’s always the one to deal with their starfishing or intense clinging. He’s woken up to find Ling’s hair completely covering both of their faces, a body intertwined with his own into an automail-and-limb pretzel. He doesn’t mind that, so much: Ling washes his hair more frequently than anyone else in the group, and even though they’re all gross, Ed wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that Ling probably smells the least bad. The smoke from the campfires sticks to his hair and mixes with the smell of his skin in a way that’s… definitely not unpleasant.
Those mornings don’t even register compared to the times he’s woken up with Ling snuggled against his back, nose in his hair. Sometimes an arm around his stomach— and it makes sense! They’d been camping outside in the snow, and Ed knew he was a little furnace. You can’t blame anyone for clinging to that. He could admit (just to himself) that having someone so tall wrapped around him was, actually, kinda nice. Even with his naturally high temperature, some extra wrapping doesn’t hurt. Right? Warmth.
God, that was bullshit. Ed was so, so whipped. He starts to groan before cutting himself off— the last thing he wanted to do was disturb Greed’s sleep. Can Greed even sleep? It’s probably not an observable difference.
Ed props himself up on his elbow, leaning over his friend. It’s dark, but Darius and Heinkel still have their oil lamp running, and the soft light is enough for Ed to see the slow, shallow rise and fall of his friend’s chest.
Coming out of winter, the days were getting longer and brighter. Even though it rained frequently, they’d all gotten enough sun for their skin to start to darken, for Ed’s hair to start lightening, and for Ling’s freckles to come out. Ed noticed when they showed up on the prince’s arms and the edges of his cheeks. Even in the warm near-dark of the tent, he could see that they’d multiplied. Ling’s nose had developed a few rich brown pinpricks, and sprinklings of tan flecks rested along his cheeks. Two new freckles sat in the space between his bottom lip and his chin. He thinks about how little time he’d had to appreciate Ling’s closed mouth— when the prince’s lips weren’t stretched out in a smile or a grimace, they looked full and soft. He felt his face heat up.
Ed realizes he’s holding his breath.
Darius’ voice sounds out through the dark, only slightly louder than his earlier chatter.
“Lights out!”
Several things seem to happen at once. Ed takes a new breath, starting to shift his weight back towards his sleeping bag. Darius turns the key in his oil lamp, letting out a shrill squeak. Ed sees the edges of Ling’s mouth curl up. Darkness fills his vision.
He falls back onto his sleeping mat, blushing furiously. It may not be literally visible, but he worries the heat from his definitely-red face could alert Ling (or worse, Greed ) to the fact something’s up— that is, if Ling hadn’t already seen him. But his fucking eyes were closed!!! So—
“Edward?” It was definitely Ling. Ed swallowed loudly.
“...yeah?”
“Is there something on my face?” He could hear the smile in Ling’s voice. An upwards lilt he used to find absolutely grating. It was still maddening, but in a different way. The sleeping bag crinkles beneath Ling as he shifts onto his side.
“You know, yes. There is. There’s actually a whole bunch of shit on your face all the time.”
“All the time? You haven’t brought it up before.”
Ed speaks in an angry stage whisper. “Well you haven’t been super available lately.”
Ling exhales softly before speaking. The smile in his voice is gone.
“You could’ve told Greed, you know.” It was clear he didn’t want to talk about whatever forced him inside his own head for the last two days. It’s not worth the risk of pushing him back in with an interrogation. He wanted to know so badly, but... Ling was allowed to have secrets. He let it go, for the moment.
The sound of soft rain fills the silence. “Greed doesn’t need to know. He’s gone a whole day with hot sauce on his chin, and when I finally told him, he just said, ‘huh.’ He didn’t even ask where it was!!”
Ling groans. “I wish he’d wash my face once in awhile. I hate coming to and finding like, crusty mystery sauce or mud or fucking cornmeal on my face. That can’t be good for my skin.”
Ed lets out a sharp laugh.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” He closes his eyes and remembers the other boy’s soft new freckles. “Your skin’s like, stupid perfect.”
“You think so, Edward?”
Even though they’d been sleeping in the same tent for months and spending virtually all their time together (when Ling was in control, anyways), Ed didn’t feel like they’d gotten very much time alone . Really, it was just the bits of time between setting up the tent and passing out from exhaustion. Even in those mornings, Ling had been asleep. It didn’t really count.
Recently, he’d felt more and more like their friendship had a timer on it. Once they defeated Father— if they defeated Father, if the world still existed after Promised Day, if they both made it out, what would keep Ling in Amestris? How many times would they get to talk again, like this , before then? He knew it was selfish, he knew it would feel horrible. He knew Ling had a right to know the truth. He’d rather they talk about it, at least, and have the chance to work through it. Greed had warned him about starting drama, but he knew (or hoped) Ling could work through this with him. There’s no way the prince had gotten this far through life without being the subject of an unrequited crush. And if he hadn’t— well, they would travel together for another month, and then they’d never have to deal with it again. Who knows how much of that time Ling would even be in control?
A soft clang sounds from Ed’s automail arm. Ling had just rapped a knuckle on it.
“Are you still awake?” He whispers. “You didn’t answer my very important question.” Ling’s probably teasing, but there’s a serious undertone in his voice. Or is there? He hopes there is. He’s scared there is. God, fuck this, fuck this, fuck this
“Um. Can I tell you something?” Ed’s voice cracks, and he feels his hands clam up at his sides. The air seems to still, despite the pattering of the rain on the outside of the tent. The tent is too humid and Ed’s mouth is too dry.
“Yeah.” Ling’s voice is soft.
“If I tell you, will you maybe… tell me why you’ve been holed up the last couple days?”
A sharp inhale, but no other response.
“You don’t— I’m sorry, you don’t have to, that was stupid. Sorry.”
Ling takes more than a few seconds to speak.
“No, it’s okay. I think you’re entitled to some honesty.” The sleeping bag crinkles again as Ling shifts. He sounds uncomfortable, resigned. “I think I owe you that.”
Another silence between them.
“So,” Ling said. “You wanna go first?”
“Um, I’m...” Ed hadn’t really planned this. He feels his palms start to sweat, and his face heats up again. Is this easier or harder when he can’t see Ling’s reaction? His brain goes fuzzy. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” The words pour out of his mouth too quickly. His heart pounds in his ears.
“...Yeah?” That lilt was there again. Suddenly, Ed felt terrified, and furious, and embarrassed— the least Ling can do is give him a serious rejection. He doesn’t need to be made fun of.
“Yeah, man! Yeah. I fucking— every time I see your stupid fucking face, like your face, you , not Greed, I feel completely awful! I feel like I’m about to do something that I can’t—” He inhales, sharply “—I can’t take back, and I have to hold myself down so I don’t do anything stupid. To you. Like, like— you know. What I said.” He inhales, deep. He exhales, shakily, just as quickly. God, what a stupid time to do this. How does someone sleep afterward?
“Oh.”
That’s it? Ed has trouble keeping his voice down to a whisper, now. He feels his face redden again, this time in absolute frustration, and involuntarily balls both his fists up.
“‘Oh?’ Fucking ‘Oh???’ Can you just tell me to fuck off so I can stop, like—”
“Edward.” Ed feels Ling’s hand wrapping around one of his wrists. He tries not to be disgusted at his own sweat. He tries to appreciate Ling’s gesture.
“Can you give me a second?”
Ed nods, like an idiot, before realizing Ling can’t see him.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. Of course.”
His fists uncurl as he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. It can’t be that bad— he’s already gone over so many possible responses in his head, he should be prepared— but it’s not doing him any good to think about all the things Ling could be about to say. His heart’s still racing when he feels a warm hand move its way down his wrist, fingers ghosting over his own knuckles. He hears Ling’s sleeping bag rustle a little, and he feels a foot nestling against his own. He turns onto his side, facing the sounds of the other boy’s presence. Ling’s hand carries Ed’s forward and a little upward until it rests on something incredibly warm. He swipes his thumb over the soft skin until he finds something recognizable. It’s the corner of a mouth, curling softly upward. Quickly, the face beneath his palm shifts until he feels the impression of an entire pair of lips, radiating soft heat. A kiss to his palm. It’s quick, and it’s soft, and warm, and then it’s gone. He thinks his head explodes.
“I don’t know if I’m any good at—” Ling squeezes Ed’s hand, mumbling into it. Ed can feel the warmth of his cheeks. “Uh. At kissing.”
He thinks he blacks out. He thinks he’s dreaming. He feels the edge of Ling’s smile against his palm, and can tell it’s a relaxed one, with his teeth just showing. Ed has every instance of it burned into his brain. Ling shifts closer and releases Ed’s hand. A moment later, Ed feels the boy’s palm, hard and calloused skin pressed lightly to the side of his own still-flushed face.
“I think. You’d do great.” Ed feels Ling’s breath on his face and has some sense of him moving closer. Ed shifts his head a little, lifting his chin to where he thinks Ling might be. He feels the hand on his cheek twitch.
“Is this okay?” Ling asks, audibly smirking.
“Jesus fuck, of course, Ling, I’m—” he feels Ling’s nose brush against his own and quickly shuts up, entirely breathless.
The first kiss is quick, but it’s still long enough to be bad. Both of them hold their breath without thinking and consequently exhale. It’s a little loud. Ling wheezes. Ed smiles like an absolute madman. He quickly moves in for a second kiss, and a third, before losing count. Their noses bonk together more than once. Ed feels absolutely hysterical.
Inevitably, they gradually tangle together on top of their sleeping mats. Ed rests his head on Ling’s chest, listening to the taller boy’s heartbeat. It’s quick and a little erratic: he’s just as nervous as Ed is. The muscle under Ed’s head shakes a little with quiet, bubbling laughter. Long, comfortably warm arms fold around his back and give him a short squeeze. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long time.
Maybe it’s the blinding high from this new, warm security, but it seems like a good opportunity to clear something up.
“Were those times you, uh... When we’ve slept in the same tent, sometimes I wake up and you’re really close.”
“Mm…”
“Is that on purpose?”
Ed can hear Ling shake his head against the sleeping bag. “No, I mean, not really. It really does get cold.”
“It does.”
“But if you don’t mind it so much.”
“I don’t mind it.”
“Cool. cool.” Ling exhales, shaking a little. “Can you wake me up next time?”
“Like tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I think I’d like to wake up with you in the tent. Sometimes.”
“What if it’s Greed?”
Ed hears the uptick of a smile in Ling’s voice. “Oh, we uh... Have an agreement about this.”
Ed pushes back from Ling’s chest.
“I’m sorry. You made another deal with this guy? God— actually, hold up, speaking of Greed!! You never told me why you’ve been avoiding me. I don’t like talking to Greed all the time. He has like, four stories.”
“Oh! Yeah, I mean, I’ve been talking with him a lot lately. In our shared brain zone.”
“...And?”
Ling sounds embarrassed.
“He has... some good advice, sometimes. In some areas.”
“Can you elaborate?”
Ling takes a moment to gather his words.
“Greed and I have lived under pretty different circumstances. If I were killed, for one, I wouldn’t regenerate. It’s a little more dangerous for me to live as... openly as he does. But, considering our current situation, we agreed that it’s best to be honest with your friends and allies, at the least. And I recognized that I hadn’t been totally honest with you.”
Ed gives a short hum of agreement.
“But then we got into an argument, and we made a bet, and I wasn’t supposed to come out until I was ready to be totally… you know. Honest. Or until I had worked past my feelings.”
“Oh.”
Ling continued, “‘Working past my feelings’ was the first day. I thought I could get it out in like, 6 hours.”
Ed snorted. “You’re so fucking—”
“It took a while!!!!”
“Totally dense, emotionally constipated—”
“Please, little gay arsonist, teach me how to confront my emotional baggage in a healthy, normal way.”
“Wow. Okay I did Not come here to be attacked like this.”
Ed could practically hear Ling roll his eyes.
“Okay, well. That’s all behind us now, right?”
Ed conceded.
“Okay. But what about your agreement ? Any specific terms?”
“Oh. Greed says he doesn’t want anything to do with “pining baby gays?” Whatever that means? But that if we both bottle shit up it’ll cause drama in the whole group.”
“This sounds like something he has experience in.”
“Yeah, I mean. The guy’s a drama magnet.”
“So what’s the deal then?”
“Right! He’s agreed to kind of… recluse? Whenever you get too close, basically.”
“I can make Greed go away that easily?”
“Only for like an hour at a time...”
Ed balks. “THAT’S SIGNIFICANT—”
“SURE, BUT I MEAN—”
A groan from the other tent reminds them to quiet down.
Ed smiles. “It’s a good deal.”
Ling sighs happily. “I think so. I’m glad to be back in my body for the time being. I’ll try to be here in the morning, too. I hope Greed wants a long break after going so long without rest... I’ll kick him out in the morning if I need to.”
For a moment, the two of them meet eyes in the dark. It’s too dark to make out any real features, but Ed’s vision has adjusted enough to see the slight gleam in Ling’s eyes. His white teeth show, too.
Ed reveals a slow smile before turning to lay his head on Ling’s chest, tangling a leg with one of his. Ling wraps an arm around the shorter boy. Their hearts are still fast, but steadily start to calm. It’s not hard to fall asleep.
When Ling wakes up, Ed’s still there.
“Mornin.”
Ling smiles. It’s gradual, slow-growing, but blinding all the same.
“Morning.”