Work Text:
Edward Elric has been Fuhrer Mustang’s bodyguard for all of two months and he can’t decide if he loves it or if it’s the worst decision he’s ever made, and that’s saying something, because he’s made a hell of a lot of bad decisions in his lifetime, top of the list being talking his brother into moving back to Central and being unable (read: unwilling) to talk himself out of the juvenile crush he’s had on the bastard for upwards of, like, eight fucking years now.
Al would try to persuade him that he’s made far worse choices than those, but Al’s being pedantic and Ed doesn’t have to listen to that.
It’s the worst decision he’s ever made for a couple’a reasons.
First of all, being Mustang’s bodyguard means quite a bit of forced (read: desired) proximity.
No, really. Hawkeye talked him into it, after Mustang initially floated the idea, and Ed had no say in the matter, honest.
Ed hates being near the man twenty-four seven, and he hates the way Mustang gently taps his elbow when he wants to subtly guide Ed towards their next destination, and he hates knowing how Mustang takes his coffee, and he hates how Mustang’s voice gets all rough when they work a too-long day full of too many meetings, and he hates being intimately familiar with Mustang’s home and his quirks and his habits and his silly little idiosyncrasies and…
Well, fuck.
Second, it’s a lot of fucking responsibility.
He doesn’t mind that part, not really. After all, he’s held the weight of the world on his shoulders plenty of times before, and it’s always mattered, but there’s something about saving Amestris from inhuman monsters and alchemical abuses that seems way less stressful than saving Mustang’s ass from human threats. He has to work around the problem differently, both because he can’t really go full-out, kick-ass unless he wants to take it too far, and because he doesn’t have alchemy anymore. He has to strategize more now, and he has to be ready to take a life if needed, because it’s Roy and Roy is important and Roy has a lot left to do.
And because Ed’s in love with him, so naturally there’s not much that’ll stop him from doing what he has to do to save Roy’s stupid-gorgeous ass.
Third…did he mention the proximity?
Mustang…Roy…smells so good. When they’re standing side by side at some military function or another, he loves to lean back so he can mutter something clever and scathing in Ed’s ear, and the smell of his cologne and shampoo, or…pheromones, or some shit, just wafts over Ed until Ed feels like he’s going to do something real stupid real soon.
Ed kind of wishes someone would just punch him in the face—put him out of his misery already.
Despite how regal Roy is a lot of the time, he’s also a damn dork. Ed thinks this is the best worst part about being his bodyguard: he gets to know the real Roy. He was worried for a few years there that he might never get the chance, while he and Al drifted around after the Promised Day, trying to sort out what was next. Roy was surprisingly eager—face honest and open as he gave Ed the official job offer—to have Ed back in the fold. Kind of like he really wanted Ed around. That felt just as good as it felt torturous.
Thus Ed was plunged into Roy’s world more than he ever had been as a younger man. Since then, he’s been with Roy practically every minute.
+
The Aerugan delegation had left the Fuhrer a box of chocolates. Ed really, really wants some.
Mustang lets it sit on the corner of his very large and important-looking desk for most of the day, clearly aware that every time Ed comes in the office he eyes it covetously, and more than willing to drive Ed nuts before he finally gives in—because he will, eventually—and shares.
Around three, Mustang takes pity on him. He grins as he slides the box over and starts undoing the ribbon.
“I guess you deserve a treat, since you’ve been such a good boy today,” he teases.
Ed’s jaw drops. “Excuse me?” He had stopped short in front of the desk, arm still outstretched with a dossier he had brought in for the bastard.
“I know you want one,” Roy says. He glances up at Ed through his eyelashes and smirks.
“Not anymore, I don’t,” Ed grouches. He slaps the folder in his hand onto the desk with a loud ‘thwack.’
Roy chuckles and peels the ribbon away, then opens the box. Despite himself, Ed leans in across the desk as they both peer at the treasure inside. Twenty or so beautifully glossy chocolates, all in different shapes and colors, lie nestled in some emerald green tissue paper.
“You know, they’re known for their caramels…” Roy says, trailing off. They are both clearly having a moment.
Ed licks his lips and swallows. “Fuck it,” he says. “Make all the dog jokes you want. I want one.”
Roy glances up again. “Are you sure?” he taunts.
“Bastard. Gimme one.”
Roy’s fingers hover over the selection, then pluck out a milk chocolate dusted with gold. He holds it out to Ed and places it delicately in the middle of Ed’s palm. His fingers just barely brush Ed’s skin. He has to fight not to yank his hand back, especially because it kind of tickles.
Mustang picks one out for himself, and then, after a moment of hesitation, lifts it out in the air between them and says, “Cheers.” Ed laughs, startled, but knocks the chocolate pinched between his fingers against Roy’s.
They pop them in their mouths.
Ed moans. “Fuuuck, that’s good,” he says, uncaring that his mouth is full. Roy’s used to him. Ed’s bad manners aren’t going to shock him at this point. “It’s like…” He licks his lips, continues to work his mouth around the sticky caramel and melting chocolate. “Better than sex. Fuck.”
Roy barks out a laugh.
Which quickly turns into a wheezing cough.
Ed looks at him, eyes wide. “Mustang?”
Roy waves a hand in the air and squeezes his eyes shut, but he continues to cough and make a noise that sounds suspiciously like choking.
Ed panics.
He swallows the rest of his chocolate as quickly as he can without making himself choke and hustles around Roy’s desk. He pulls at Roy’s arm, making the man stand, which is hard when he’s hacking out a lung and looking decidedly purple in the face. But Ed knows what he’s supposed to do here. Once Roy is upright, Ed folds himself over his back, sliding both arms around Roy’s waist.
Ed tightens his arms, angles his joined fists in and up, and pulls.
Roy coughs again, harsh and painful, but he’s inhaling properly now, so probably the worst of it has passed.
“Oh my god. Roy, are you okay?” His hands drift to Roy’s shoulders while the older man hacks out a lung. Ed’s still pressed closely behind him, but he hasn’t had a spare moment to get embarrassed about it yet.
Roy nods, one hand clutching his chest. He turns slightly to eye Ed over his shoulder, and Ed…
Holy shit. Roy’s eyes are watering, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, and Ed knows it’s because he was literally just choking, but he can’t help but imagine Roy is crying for a very different reason—a very suggestive reason, a very inappropriate reason, like from overstimulation or…or…from choking…on…something…else. Oh god.
Ed can tell his face goes beat red because Roy’s eyebrows twitch up while he keeps trying to compose himself, but the older man hasn’t pulled away yet.
Ed squeezes his shoulders and steps two…three steps away. He clears his throat. “Are you alright?”
Roy nods again.
“It’s a good thing you keep me around,” Ed says, trying to sound scathing to hide his embarrassment.
“What would I do without you?” Roy rasps sarcastically.
“I dunno. Choke to death I guess.”
Roy’s eyes go wide. A moment later he bursts into laughter…again. It’s kind of pathetic, though, because he still sounds winded.
“It’s not funny,” Ed insists. “Stop laughing.” Roy laughs harder. “My jokes aren’t funny. The last thing I said that made you laugh almost killed you.” He jabs a finger at Roy’s chest.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Roy takes a slow, deep breath and tries to compose himself. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Ed grumbles. He reaches out to steady Roy’s elbow as Roy moves to sit back in his desk chair, even though he knows Roy doesn’t really need the help. He just wants to touch him, to make sure he’s okay, to remind himself that Roy’s still here and whole. Anyway, Roy doesn’t seem to mind because he smiles in thanks rather than shaking off Ed’s touch.
Ed circles back to the front of the desk. Roy eyes the chocolate box suspiciously, then slides it across the desk with a sigh. “Better give the rest of these to the team,” he says.
“Probably for the best,” Ed agrees. He picks up the box, but doesn’t leave immediately. He tells himself it’s because he’s waiting to be properly dismissed, not that he’s ever cared particularly before…
Ah, there it is. Roy’s eyes snap up to his and his expression turns devious. That’s what Ed’s waiting for—the parting comment, the flirty rejoinder, the last laugh. Roy is nothing if not obsessed with being the cleverest bastard in the room.
“Besides, I can think of other things I’d much rather choke on,” he says.
Ed…just…stares.
After an excruciating moment of silence, where it’s clear Roy was expecting Ed to retaliate in some way, Roy’s face begins to turn serious.
“Oh,” Mustang says. “I apologize. Was that too—”
“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Ed blurts out. Oh, crap. “I mean…”
“Yes,” Roy says immediately. “Yes, I do.”
They stare at each other some more.
They dissolve into a fresh round of laughter. It’s more of a startled giggle than anything. It feels…really good.
“Well,” Ed gets out. “Glad I saved your ass so I can actually go on a fucking date with you. Finally.”
“If I had known a little near death experience was all it would take, I would have orchestrated one of those much sooner.” Roy grins.
“Yeah, yeah.” Ed turns to leave, rolling his eyes. “You’re a real fuckin’ damsel in distress. See you later.”
“Looking forward to it,” Roy says, and Ed can hear his grin.
+
“Sir, when I hired Edward I thought he’d be protecting you from assassination attempts, not yourself. Do you mean to tell me that the Aerugans nearly killed you by accident?”
“Riza, you know better than to underestimate my ability to self-sabotage.”
Ed snickers, because he was hired to protect him, not pander to him, but he takes pity on Roy and doesn’t say anything else. He’s kind of hoping to get laid later, after all.
+++