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For the longest time, Ed had no neighbours, and he was happiest that way.
“Seriously,” he told Al once. “I can conduct experiments whenever I want and no-one’s on my case.” He gestured out the window. “Do you know how much empty fields complain about 2 am explosions? Not at all. And on the other side, we’ve just got some creepy-ass abandoned house.”
“But don’t you ever get lonely?” Al said, twirling his finger around the mug handle. “When we grew up, at least we had Granny and Winry nearby.”
Lately, Al was doing this obnoxious caring thing where he was blissfully happy and worried that Ed, well, wasn’t.
“I promise I am still the social hermit of the family. This is where I want to be.” Ed leaned back in his chair, somewhat precariously. He knew the precise angle he needed to lean to not splat. He did not wish to discuss how he had guess-and-checked this.
“Well, you’re always welcome in our spare room if you feel like it. We keep the bed made.”
Ed laughed. “It’s true—Winry’s influence has made you a mother hen.”
Al puffed up indignantly. The sight of him, so corporeal, alive, here, still gave Ed a burst of joy. “Brother, you’re mean.”
“Mhm. You’re stuck with me, though.”
“Whatever shall I do.” Al brought a hand to his forehead, ever dramatic. Ed was only a tiny bit serious. Al had long been a mother hen, but Ed was happy to see that playful side shine through more frequently. Fuck, he was getting sentimental at the old age of, what, twenty-seven. Damn it all.
Ed thought that Al, was, say, 96% overreacting. He was perfectly happy being a researcher out in the countryside, working mostly by correspondence, and mostly avoiding polite society. However, there was a small edge of truth. The idea of romantic rendezvous-ing was laughable and frankly unimportant to Ed, but it would be nice to see a living being more than once or twice a month.
The answer? Alpacas.
He bought two, was pleased, and then bought six more.
“You’ve never even considered taking over the country, have you?” he crooned, stroking one behind its ear. “You just relax and look fluffy.” Spike blinked and stared back at him.
Ed’s research mostly centred around alchemy, which still energized him and even approached useful levels of application, but sometimes it just fucking sucked to be reminded that he couldn’t do the damn thing, anymore, actually. Maintaining his property and caring for the alpacas helped with that. He felt like a human person who could still achieve regular human things.
Mind you, he wasn’t snotty. He thought it was a waste to see the house beside him stay deserted, but it’s not like he was going to begrudge the property owner their long grass or something. He wondered if the house was owned at all, to be honest. He wondered this extremely passively, until the day that the house was lit up.
He hadn’t been outside for several hours; lately he’d found himself in the work-all-night-and-sleep-in rhythm. However, Ed looked outside at maybe 10pm and saw an honest-to-goodness light in the house. Wasn’t it dilapidated? Well, maybe not. He was curious, but not flat-out rude (despite what some people said) so he hadn’t stared into the house from up close.
He made a mental note to investigate further in the daylight, maybe even say hello and suss out how pissed they would be to hear explosions, yodelling, etcetera past midnight. As it happens, his neighbour took the initiative first.
Bang bang, announced the door.
Ed groaned and swore. What time was it, even? It must be his neighbour; no one selling anything bothered visiting the area. Resigned, he dragged himself out of bed and pulled on a housecoat. He opened his front door and immediately regretted it.
“Oh,” said Roy Mustang. His eyes widened, their dark brown irises bringing at least five cheesy metaphors to Ed’s mind.
“…You,” said Ed, pinnacle of refined speech at this time of day.
They gawped at each other for a moment.
“I like your alpacas,” Mustang said weakly.
“Did you stalk me here? Or…” Ed’s stomach dropped. “I don’t suppose you… moved recently.”
Roy rubbed his temple, glancing back at the cottage. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said finally. “The proximity is a bizarre coincidence. Rather, Madame Christmas willed this property to me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, no, she didn’t die.” Roy looked like he was considering doing so. “Still in fine health. She was just getting her affairs in order and thought someone should check on the property. It doesn’t see a lot of use, as you can tell.” He ran his fingers through his hair. It was longer than Ed remembered.
There was another vaguely awkward silence.
Ed resisted the urge to fiddle with his own braid. “Let’s say I was a random stranger, like you probs expected.” He stretched and suppressed a yawn. “What inspired you to harass your neighbour at the literal crack of dawn?”
“First, it is a respectable ten a.m., and second…” Roy swallowed. “Could-I-borrow-some-sugar.”
“No way. You did not pop in here like a suburban housewife.” Ed snorted. “Are you pulling my leg, or are you actually over there, like, baking an apple pie?”
“Cookies.” Roy had evolved beyond awkward and now aimed for pristinely indignant. “Madame Christmas is visiting later, so it seemed like a good idea, but… here we are.”
After a short, amusing stare-down, Ed took pity on him. “Ah, sure. One sec. You can come in, if you want.” He gestured over to the hideous flowered couch that basically swallowed folks whole. (Despite how that sounded, it was a kindness; the blue one was nicer-looking but less comfortable.)
Roy sat down with a fwoomp. “Nice place,” he said. “I wasn’t kidding about liking your alpacas, and it’s nice in here as well. It’s got the ol’ Elric homey look.” He gestured at three tall stacks of papers.
“Be grateful I just organized those,” said Ed. “You should see Al for the real Elric homey look. He and Winry’ve got like five of those little blankets for guests, and house shoes, and coordinated kitchen containers with little labels.”
“I owned a labelmaker,” said Roy wistfully. “I gave it away. Everything was already labelled.”
Ed snorted and tried to pass it off as a cough. “Yeah, whatever. Want tea? Or, like, whatever fancy shit you used to drink? I’ve got whiskey. It’s basically breakfast.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “Hesitant to give away sugar, happy to give away whiskey.”
“Yeah, well, you just surprised me.” Ed bit his lip. “Glad you didn’t run away screaming when you saw whose house this was.” He poured them both a drink, which Roy accepted.
“Here’s to marginally less sober baking.” Roy raised it in a cheers. “Seriously, Ed, you look well. I was always… I don’t know, proud you made it out. Envious, maybe.”
“Is that why you never called?”
Roy barked a laugh. “Ouch. I deserve that.” He swirled his glass. “I’m surprised you ask. I considered it a thousand times, but I figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me. I’m not in the business of intruding on my peers’ peaceful retirement.” He saw Ed’s face. “I suppose today I am, touché.”
“It’s not whole-ass retirement, you bastard, I’m not even thirty.”
“Saving a country like that, you could have retired properly if you wanted. Everybody loved you.” Roy’s face had started to flush. Damn lightweight.
“I mean, you too, right?” Ed shrugged. “The attention’s nice at first, and I stuck around to rebuild, but then it was just… too much. I wanted to breathe. Spend more time with ideas than crowds.”
He poured them another as they chatted, feeling a contented buzz soak his senses. This was rare. Nice, even. It felt like he was in a surreal dream, making nice with—
“Holy shit, it’s the first hour we’ve spoken that I haven’t called you a bastard.”
“You’ve mellowed out in old age.”
“Fuck off, you must be a dinosaur by now.”
“You missed the part where I became a vampire. I haven’t aged a day.”
“Lies.” Except that Ed wondered if he had a point. Roy’s skin was scary smooth. His eyes were bright, and he’d always had some kind of shiny-hair-gene. He obviously still worked out, which seemed like a waste of time for a past-Fuhrer, now that he was off the campaign trail and back to desk work, but hey, if it made the guy happy…
“I wasn’t kidding, earlier. The sunshine out here’s done you well.” Roy looked at him intently for a moment, before finding the table fascinating.
Ed flushed. “You chose the right time to visit. The first couple of summers I forgot sunscreen and walked around like a beet.”
“…I like beets.” Oh my word, shut up, Roy, said Roy’s expression.
They danced around farewells for a good long while, before Roy was threatened with increasingly time-crunched baking and really did need to return.
“Thanks for… this.” Roy held up the measuring cup of sugar like a favoured trophy.
“’s nothing,” said Ed, biting his lip. “Good luck with your baking, and maintenance, and all that.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, filled with energy. “Feel free to come by anytime. Any time past 11 am,” he corrected, “when you want ingredients, or alpaca cuddles, or my spectacular company.”
“Thanks, Ed.” Roy’s eyes sparked. “You know, I just might.”