Archive of Our Own ^beta

— MONDAY—

It could be said that opposites attract. Sure, plenty of people accept it as a rule of thumb for relationships– tall and short, brains and braun, introvert and extrovert, creative and practical– but it was also considered a law in physics. Everything seeks stability. Everything seeks its natural opposite, to balance out its own extremes. It’s the entire phenomenon behind magnets and lightning– the negative are attracted to the positive in order to achieve neutrality.

But Roy Mustang, as the Flame alchemist– whose natural opposite was water– absolutely despised being wet. 

He had nothing against rainy days, despite the rumors. When he had the day off, he liked making a pot of tea and curling up in his favorite chair with a book and watching the rain streak down the windows. The gloomy weather made his usually restless self calmer, forcing his mind to slow down and forget about all of the errands he was supposed to be running and stay indoors. He loved listening to the rain as he slept. It was a soothing white noise that always managed to keep his night terrors at bay. And even the ones that would somehow slip through his subconscious and cause him to wake with a startled shout would be quickly dispelled at the soft pattering of droplets outside. 

It didn’t rain in the desert.

But Roy despised being wet. It wasn’t even necessarily about the utter uselessness of his alchemy whenever his ignition gloves got wet. Even if he could somehow still make a spark with soggy gloves, it didn’t change the fact that being wet was a personal dislike of his. Always had been, always will be. 

It’s why he always stashed an extra full set of clothes in his office, not just an extra nine pairs of gloves in his desk like everyone assumed. It’s why he stayed inside on rainy days– why he always made sure to take a car to and from work, even if the morning sun called for him to enjoy a nice walk to headquarters instead. He lamented not being able to bask in the warm sun in a leisurely stroll, but he’d much rather be safe than sorry. Weather was unpredictable, and could choose to send a shower his way at any moment. 

So he stayed indoors– where, for the most part, he was guaranteed to keep dry. Unless something spilled on him or he got caught in the path of a stray projectile during an impromptu office water balloon fight (yes, that had happened more than once), he was able to stay dry so long as he was inside. No matter what, he could count on the fact that it didn’t rain indoors.

At least, it wasn’t supposed to.

“What the hell, Mustang? I need to fucking talk to you, you ass!” Edward stomped his foot, acting much like the child he sounded like. Roy needn’t bother lifting his gaze, scrawling another sloppy signature onto a form before handing it off to Hawkeye at his side. She seemed less than impressed by the messy scribble but she was clearly resigned to the Colonel simply completing the task on time, rather than micromanaging the quality. 

“Unfortunately, Fullmetal, as you may learn in years to come, not everything in life is going to go your way and you’re going to need to find a way to deal with your feelings other than swearing at me in my place of work.” He reached for another form on the pile.

“Fuck that! You’re the one who said it would be easier to talk in person and now you’re ‘too busy’?” Edward was seething. Roy couldn’t quite understand his anger, though the intensity of the emotion being directed at him was already beginning to give him a headache. He was spared the trouble of responding when Hawkeye pulled another form in front of him before placing a hand on his shoulder to direct his attention back on his task. He heard her click her tongue.

“Edward, the Colonel really does have a lot of paperwork he needs to get through today. It’s not some scheme to make you upset.” The teen simply snorted in response.

“I don’t care about his hoity-toity military shit! I told him it was important !” Mismatched hands came down on the desktop hard , causing the pen to slip on the form Roy was currently signing, leaving a jagged inky trail in its wake. Fuck.  

The Colonel sent his subordinate a hard glare. “Fullmetal, out . I’m not dealing with this right now. We will talk later.” 

Their eyes locked in an unspoken battle, both stubbornly trying to get the other to back down. Normally, Roy wouldn’t have given Edward the satisfaction of playing into his childish little games, but today his patience wore thin enough to drive him into temptation’s grasp. 

Or maybe Roy just liked the fire in Edward’s eyes when he was pissed as hell.

Whatever the case, he hadn’t spared more than a passing thought before his mug of long-cold coffee suddenly toppled over on his desk, sending dark liquid all over his half-done paperwork and onto his lap. He leapt to his feet. 

“Ah! What the hell?!” His sudden movement had his chair flying backward into the Lieutenant who uncaringly sprang forward to try to save as many forms from ruin as she could. Even Edward backed up a few paces, seemingly startled at first, but then gave a very poor attempt at hiding a laugh behind his hand. Roy glanced down at his ruined uniform, the dark brown already settling into a stain over his crotch. He hissed a curse, brushing his palms against the fabric.

“Are you alright, Sir?” Hawkeye walked back over to the desk, having stepped away to retrieve some towels to wipe up the spill.

“Perfect. I’m just lucky it’s been sitting there cold for the last two hours, I guess. This day really just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?” He took some towels from her, helping to clean the mess from the edge of the wood and beneath some of his trinkets he had scattered about. 

Riza cleared her throat.

“Sir, you have that meeting with Grumman in an hour.” 

He sighed, noting with annoyance that the alchemic prodigy in their midst had yet to offer any miracle clean-up assistance. When he looked up at Fullmetal, Ed met his gaze with laughter in his eyes and a small tick up of his jaw. Little shit . Once more he glanced down at his ruined pants. Luckily, the coffee had spared his shirt and overcoat, but there was no chance in hell he could go see Grumman looking like this– even if they were close. 

“It’s fine, Lieutenant. I keep a spare uniform in my wardrobe. I’ll clean up before then.” He flopped back down into his seat with a huff. Ignoring his growing headache, Roy dragged a stack of un-soiled papers closer to him and got back to work. The time he had before these were due to the brass was now decidedly shortened, but all he could do was what he could do. They would have to understand, right?

Yeah, sure.

If he applied too much pressure to the pen while signing his name for the rest of that hour, he doubted anyone would really notice. All they really cared about was that it was his name slapped on the dotted line… the details could be overlooked. 

He must have been stewing more than he realized, because forty-five minutes passed in a flash and Lieutenant Hawkeye was placing a hand over his to stop his almost-obsessive signing. Roy glanced up at the clock to confirm the time, and realized he had only a few minutes to change clothes, possibly scrub the exhaustion off his face quickly, before he would need to head over to the General’s office.

Hastily, Mustang stood and walked over to the wardrobe, grabbing his spare uniform trousers, before making his way over to the adjoining bathroom in the corner of his office. Perks of working your way up the ladder , he smirked to himself. Suddenly, a tight grip caught his sleeve at the elbow and held him back.

“I really need to talk to you.” Roy looked down at the automail hand grabbing the fabric of his uniform jacket, furrowing his brow at the way the unforgiving material was already showing signs of wrinkling, before glaring at Edward. Mustang hadn’t even noticed he hadn’t left, though it honestly didn’t surprise him in the least.

“I’m meeting with Grumman in a few minutes, so as I’ve told you, it’ll have to wait.” He reached down and tried to pry Edward’s hand off of his sleeve, but the stubborn brat just tightened his grip and actually growled up at him. Well, that certainly didn’t awaken anything in Roy. 

Shaking his head, and trying to pass off his flushing face as annoyance, he finally succeeded in ripping his sleeve from Edward’s grasp. In what world he assumed that would deter Ed from literally following him into the bathroom, he’ll never be sure. But Edward Elric was nothing if not persistent. He caught the door as Mustang attempted to swing it shut behind him.

“And I told you that it’s really important!” He seethed. Roy spun on his heel, gaping at his pseudo-stalker.

“Fullmetal, wha– don’t follow me! I’m changing my clothes!” His face was definitely a tomato red now. Did this kid have absolutely no awareness of boundaries ? Ed actually laughed at the Colonel’s indignation, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of his head. He crossed the length of the small bathroom, leaning against the sink counter to level Roy a teasing look.

“You hiding a tail under there, Mustang? Who gives a fuck? We’ve all got the same equipment.” He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking at Roy– his anger finally giving way to the good-naturedness of their usual banter. 

Mustang made a noise of exasperation, tossing the spare pants on the counter beside Ed. He then moved to bracket his arms on either side of the teen before he could realize what was happening, effectively trapping Edward against the counter, and leaned in until they were almost nose-to-nose. This close, he could practically see the blush spreading along Edward’s cheeks, dancing across each freckle one-by-one. He could hear the tremble of his breath, hear the hitch of his swallow, see the way his pupils dilated as golden eyes flitted between Roy’s eyes, his nose, his lips .

So there was some truth behind the rumors about Fullmetal’s little crush, was there?

“Yeah, maybe,” Roy drawled at last, speaking his words slowly, allowing the anticipation to build. He raised a brow at Ed, lips quirking up in a smirk as he dealt the lethal blow. “But some of us got issued the full-size model.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a torrent of water sprayed from the sink faucet, hitting him directly in the face. He sputtered, raising his hands to block himself from the sudden onslaught, but he was already positively soaked from head to toe. Roy coughed weakly as the attack stopped, wiping the water from his eyes and glaring at the sink, assuming Edward had transmuted it into a hose of some sort to exact his revenge.

The faucet was unchanged. Edward’s hands remained tightly gripped onto the edge of the counter. But Roy was absolutely drenched… how had–?

Ed roughly shoved him away with both hands on Roy’s chest, slipping past him toward the exit. He refused to make eye contact.

“Looks like the universe doesn’t care much for your shitty sense of humor, bastard.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Roy alone.

—

Thankfully, Roy kept an entire spare uniform on hand, so he was able to change in time for his meeting, though Grumman still raised a brow at the Colonel’s sodden appearance. Luckily for him, the General didn’t comment on it and their meeting went about business as usual. 

He returned to his office after– only to be immediately bombarded with the rest of his paperwork, courtesy of Riza, so he hardly even had time to notice the lacking appearance of a certain alchemist.

(He did notice, though. He always noticed.)

Roy was inclined to believe it had just been a weird morning. Stranger things had been known to happen. Not thinking too much into it, he brushed it off and went about the remainder of his day with no more incidents to speak of. His reports were handed in just in the nick of time, he received neither praise nor scolding from the brass for their quality or timeliness, and once the stacks of paperwork on his desk had dwindled to something much more manageable, Hawkeye had returned to her own desk and left him to his devices. As much as he loved her dearly, it was a wonderful feeling not to have anyone breathing down his neck for the rest of the work day. 

A part of him had anticipated a second visit from Edward– perhaps later in the day when he knew Roy wouldn’t have an excuse to dodge him any longer– but as the hours passed into the afternoon, no such visit came. He surmised that whatever Edward had been insisting had been so important as to invade Roy’s privacy and personal space that morning, still must have eventually taken a backseat had the brothers stumbled upon a new theory for restoring their bodies.

He felt bad then, momentarily, for brushing Edward off. If something had ripped his nose out of his own research to the point where he had sacrificed his personal time to come see Roy, it must have truly been important. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, threading his fingers through his bangs. Edward had obviously been upset about something… or at least, had been more than usual. Roy really shouldn’t have added to it by riling him up any further.

It had just been too easy, though. If anything, Roy knew Edward preferred sticking to their usual banter over being fussed over like some fragile child. No matter what he was dealing with, Edward trusted Roy to treat him with honesty and respect– not to coddle him or pull punches. He trusted Roy not to hold him back for being young, or for his spectacularly destructive temper, which was both a menace to the department and a line item on its budget. More than anything, Edward trusted him to see him as a human being… flawed, reckless, learning… not someone who needed babysitting.

Not a kid. Not a weapon. As an equal.

Roy knew Edward appreciated it. It wasn’t something that was difficult to offer– just simple, steady respect– but after years of being dismissed by fellow soldiers, underestimated by enemies, and gently smothered by Alphonse’s well-meaning worry, Ed's entire existence seemed to thrum with a pleased energy when he was seen for exactly who he was. He saw it every time in the way Ed looked at him: eyes wide, struck still for a heartbeat, like he couldn’t quite believe it. That look always landed like a warm weight in Roy’s chest, unsettling in its sincerity. It made something in him go quiet. That quiet, he realized, was the earliest sign of his own feelings blooming– right alongside the growing, unmistakable affection in Edward’s gaze. 

His mind, of course, chose that moment to re-play the earlier scene of him and Edward practically on top of each other in the privacy of his en suite on the back of his eyelids. Surprise had crossed Edward’s face, briefly melting into something quieter, almost tender, before sparking into fury at Roy’s final jab. He wondered how different Edward’s reaction would have been if he had just leaned in a bit more and–

He felt his face grow hot and slapped his hands against his cheeks to dislodge the visual. Stupid, stupid idiot. So fucking inappropriate… 

It was one thing for Edward, a teenager, to nurse an innocent crush on his (regrettably handsome, frustratingly charming) superior officer. That was forgivable. Expected, even. But it was something else entirely– something Roy had no excuse for– when he found himself feeling it back . When he caught his gaze lingering too long on the way Edward smiled, or softening at the sound of his voice. Edward was far too young, far too his responsibility , and Roy knew better. He should have shut the door on that possibility the moment he recognized it for what it was. And yet– he hadn’t.

Groaning, he decided to just pack up for the day and head home. He deserved a bit of an early leave after the headache the wild start to his day had induced. Maybe Hawkeye would even pity him and let him off without a lecture.

— TUESDAY —

Roy stepped into the office just past eight, his overcoat already folded over his arm, expecting the usual early-morning shuffle of paperwork and half-hearted greetings. What he didn’t expect was for Edward to already be there alongside the rest of the team. He was animatedly talking to Second Lieutenant Havoc about something that had his arms gesturing wildly in that way he did only when he was fully engrossed in the conversation. He hadn’t noticed Roy enter, too caught up in whatever he was explaining, golden hair catching the morning light like it was trying to make a point of its own.

Roy lingered by the doorway, just for a moment longer than he should have. Admiring.

Around the office, the whispers had been going for weeks– pointed looks, muffled chuckles, Breda even being bold enough to call it “a schoolboy crush.” He was the last one to find it amusing. It should’ve been harmless. Should’ve. But Roy knew better. He was the superior officer. He was supposed to be the one drawing the line, not toeing it. He shouldn’t be making this into a game.

And yet…

Edward didn’t make it easy– not with those sharp eyes that softened in rare moments, not with the way he always bristled when Roy pushed him too far and yet kept coming back anyway. Roy told himself he was keeping his distance, playing it cool. But the truth was far less noble.

He liked it. The push and pull. The tension. The way Edward always rose to the challenge– no matter the situation– and could get under Roy’s skin with just a well-placed taunt, so much so that Roy had to work constantly to keep his mask from slipping and giving him away.

Playing hard to get had never felt so dangerous– or so addicting.

“Morning, Havoc. Fullmetal,” he said, keeping his voice even. He finally moved into the room, the click of his boots drawing Edward’s attention like a magnet.

Edward turned to him, mid-sentence, and Roy felt the warmth of that first glance hit harder than it should’ve.

He really needed to stop letting himself enjoy this.

Roy barely had time to set his coat on the rack before Havoc wheeled over from his desk with a sly grin.

“Big night tomorrow, Chief?” he asked, already halfway into the tease. “Heard from Emily at the front desk you’ve got dinner plans. Some fancy reservation under your name, hmm?”

Roy raised an eyebrow, hiding a smirk as he turned to help himself to some coffee from the community pot. “Careful, Lieutenant. You almost sound jealous.”

“Devastated, actually,” Havoc groaned, slumping back in his chair. “I can’t even get a waitress to remember my name, and you’re out here wining and dining like a proper aristocrat. What’s the secret? Is it the hair?”

Roy chuckled, running a hand through said hair with deliberate flair. “It’s the charm, mostly. That and my reputation for being devastatingly good-looking over candlelight.”

Breda barked out a laugh at that, and Havoc clutched his chest in mock despair. “God, that’s unfair. If I had your jawline, I’d be unstoppable.” The others in the office shared a look at that.

As the banter carried on, Roy took a sip from his mug and allowed his gaze to slide– just briefly– toward Edward.

The younger alchemist sat rigid atop Havoc’s desk from where his own conversation with the man had been abandoned. His jaw was tight. His brows were pulled low, not in thought, but in that coiled, simmering way Roy had seen a thousand times before. The flush along his cheekbones wasn't from the morning chill.

He hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t even looked up. And when Havoc cracked another joke about Roy’s romantic evening plans, Edward’s pencil audibly cracked in his hand with a soft, wooden crick.

Roy said nothing. He should’ve… Something about how the date was nothing serious, just information gathering from one of Madame’s girls. It was probably about time Edward was clued into his whole reputation as a “womanizer” being a cover, anyway… But against his better judgement, he leaned into the teasing, lips curling with practiced arrogance.

“Can’t blame them for falling for me,” he drawled. “Some people just can’t help themselves.” Jean rolled his eyes, gearing up for another quip about Roy’s dating prowess.

And then–

SHHHHHHFFF!

A blast of cold water hit the Colonel square in the face, knocking his bangs into his eyes and soaking the entire front of his uniform. Startled, he dropped his mug to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud, its contents splashing over his shoes.

Silence fell over the office. Then Breda began absolutely howling with laughter; Fuery hastily tried to hush him, but the Colonel’s attention wasn’t on them regardless.

Roy blinked, water dripping from his chin in time with the mess steadily spreading from the coffeemaker. He didn’t even need to look to know who did it.

But he did anyway.

Edward sat there, automail leg slung over the other as he rested his hands over top of his knees, expression perfectly blank. Only the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. 

Roy reached slowly for his handkerchief, dabbing his dripping face without a word. Water clung to his lashes and slid down the back of his neck. He loathed being wet. Absolutely loathed it.

“Well,” he muttered, not looking at anyone in particular, “nice to see the maturity levels in this office are holding steady.”

Across the room, Ed snorted. “Man, someone out there really has it out for you, Mustang. I mean, I’ve been saying for years you needed to cool that oversized head of yours.”

Roy shot him a baleful look. “Yes, well, that someone had better fix the machine before I file a formal complaint with maintenance.”

Edward blinked wide eyes at him innocently. “What, you think I did that?”

“Yes.”

Ed’s brows shot up. “I’m all the way over here. How the hell would I even do that?” He gestured vaguely around him, like the very suggestion was beneath his scientific brilliance. “I don’t have magic powers , Colonel.”

Roy stared at him– long, flat, unimpressed.

Edward rolled his eyes and gave him a look so condescending it could have been framed and hung in a museum. “Did you see an alchemic charge?”

Roy opened his mouth, paused, glanced warily toward the countertop and the now-quiet coffee machine. No transmutation marks. No telltale static hum. Just a normal machine with a leak.

He turned, just slightly, to glance at his team.

Blank stares. Shrugs.

He looked back at Ed, who was now openly grinning, smug and satisfied like a cat who had batted something fragile off a shelf. He was clearly enjoying the hell out of this. 

“… No,” Roy admitted stiffly.

Edward spread his hands in mock surprise. “Huh. Well, unless I’ve somehow invented a groundbreaking new form of invisible , no-evidence alchemy in my sleep, maybe you should be calling in maintenance.”

Roy scowled, tugging uselessly at the collar of his damp shirt as another cold trickle ran down his spine.

He hated being wet. Almost as much as he hated being wrong. And Edward knew it.

From Havoc’s desk, Ed gave a barely-suppressed laugh. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore– and why should he? There was absolutely no proof, and he knew it. 

Roy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse under his breath and walked into his office. As he slunk over to his wardrobe, he began to realize, with no small amount of dread, that his only spare uniform in the office had been the one he had worn home yesterday evening. Which meant the one currently hanging up was from yesterday morning’s other coffee mishap because he hadn’t thought to take it to the cleaners last night. He threw open the double wooden doors, and immediately hung his head in defeat as the aforementioned large, dark stain laughed up at him.

“Next week,” he said darkly, “I’m installing security cameras.”

Ed called to him from the outer office, absolute giddiness in his voice. “Better make sure they’re waterproof!”

— WEDNESDAY —

For the most part, Roy reached the middle of the week without any major incident. The office was busy, but not unbearably so. With Edward in town, the usual backlog of reports had finally begun to shrink, albeit accompanied by a steady stream of loud complaints and rude hand gestures whenever more was delivered to his desk. Still, Ed got the work done, and more importantly, it meant fewer arguments with Hawkeye about missing requisition forms.

Riza had been in an unusually agreeable mood since the impromptu sprint they had completed Monday. She hadn’t once threatened him with her sidearm all week, which Roy considered a personal triumph.

So, by all accounts, there was no reason he should’ve been in a bad mood.

But he was.

Not overtly. Nothing loud. Just… an undercurrent. A vague, creeping unease that clung to him like humidity before a thunderstorm. An unsettled annoyance that weighed on his shoulders as he went about his day, trying to avoid restaurants, public restrooms, even staying clear of the Central river and ordering Havoc to drive the longer route to get home in the evenings.

Because everywhere he went– everywhere – he somehow ended up wet.

First, there were the two Monday morning incidents: the coffee cup unexplainably knocking over onto his desk and then the bathroom sink faucet deciding to masquerade as a showerhead, soaking his uniform completely and putting him in a sour mood for the rest of the day. After his meeting with Grumman, Roy had stopped by the records room and– of course– a slow, persistent leak from the ceiling dripped directly onto his shoulder the very moment he had sat down. A leak no one else seemed to have ever noticed or been a victim of. Convenient.

During lunch in the mess hall later that same day, a glass of water tipped over on its own, its contents landing mere inches from his elbow like a threat. He surrendered some of his napkins to help clean up the spill, then excused himself and went back to his office. No harm, no foul.

Then came yesterday.

It started small. Barely worth noting, really. A spilled cup of tea from a stranger at a diner– not even sitting near him, yet somehow splashing only onto the hem of his trousers. Annoying, yes, but accidents do happen.

But then, the coffeemaker in the morning, springing a leak and managing to strike him right in the face. What the hell even was that ? He had assumed the machine was simply broken. Yet, that afternoon and even still this morning, the appliance sat there like new– no defects to be found and it was eventually ruled a freak accident by the rest of the team, who continued to use it like normal. Whatever.

Then yesterday afternoon, as he returned to the office after another meeting and opened the door, a pipe in the ceiling burst right over his head. Fuery swore up and down that maintenance had just come by last week to fix a slow leak in the plumbing and had declared everything well and fine when they checked the rest of the area to be safe. No rusting, no weak spots. So then, by all reason, a break of this scale on a perfectly normal, perfectly durable iron pipe was by no means a normal occurrence. By all appearances, it had simply chosen to burst open randomly– or perhaps it had been biding its time for the perfect moment, lying in wait for the second Mustang walked through the door.

But the final straw? The moment that truly broke him of all logic and rationale?

Yesterday afternoon had been a bright and sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. Birds chirping. Civilians out enjoying the weather. Roy stepped off the curb to head to the car park– and was immediately hit by a sudden downpour that seemed to materialize directly over his head and barely even lasted 30 seconds . No warning. No explanation. No one else got so much as a drop.

He stood there, soaked, while a passing dog stared at him like it knew.

Now, Roy wasn’t superstitious. He didn’t believe in curses, and he certainly didn’t believe the weather was capable of any sort of personal vendetta.

But he was starting to wonder.

Because at that point, it didn’t feel like coincidence.

It felt targeted.

And he was pretty sure someone– or something– was laughing at him.

And always– always – when one of these soggy-occurences happened, Edward was nearby.

Not close enough to be obvious. Not doing anything apparent. Just… present. With that same barely-suppressed smirk that Roy couldn’t prove meant anything. He’d turn around and catch Ed watching from across the room, chin in hand, pretending to be absorbed in paperwork. Or, as was the case with the impromptu rain shower, Edward just so happened to be passing by suspiciously right in that instant.

It was enough to make a man paranoid.

Or at least very damp. And Roy Mustang hated being damp.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt for the third time that day, the sodden fabric cold against his skin. Something was going on.

And he felt in his gut that these incidents were going to continue. And he knew they would only get worse.

—

Roy was occupied with wiping up his fourth spilled water glass of the day, when the office phone rang. Not missing a beat, Hawkeye picked up the receiver before the third ring and answered it with her usual crisp efficiency, tucking it between shoulder and ear as she flipped through a personnel file.

“Colonel Mustang’s office… Yes, one moment.”

She held the receiver out toward Roy, who was drying his damp sleeves with a grimace and increasingly dwindling patience.

“It’s your date ,” she said, glancing his way with a perfectly unreadable expression.. “She’s calling to confirm your dinner plans.” Roy perked up just slightly, holding his hand out for the phone.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said smoothly, taking the receiver with all the composure of a man who definitely hadn’t been sneak-attacked by rogue plumbing three times in forty-eight hours. He was incredibly conscious of Edward’s proximity being close enough to catch every word– lending the perfect opportunity for some good old-fashioned tease-flirting. Roy suspected that by dialling up the charm and flirting just loud enough, he could stir a reaction out of the kid and, honestly, make himself feel a little less like a drenched mess.

“This is Colonel Mustang,” he purred, voice dropping half an octave as he leaned over Hawkeye’s desk. “Hello Miriam. Yes, I’ve been looking forward to tonight. You have impeccable timing, you know. I was just thinking about you…”

Across the room, Edward didn’t look up from his desk, but his posture had stiffened slightly, pen stalling mid-sentence.

Roy, giddy at the shift, went on, “I hope you’re not expecting anything too formal. I’ve been told I’m even more charming over takeout than I am over wine.”

In his periphery, he saw the corners of Riza’s mouth give the ghost of a downward twitch.

And then– completely oblivious to Mustang– the small vase of flowers sitting at the edge of her desk lifted up about a foot midair. Slowly. Gracefully. As if gripped by some invisible hand.

The rest of the office watched with slacked jaws and wide eyes. 

It raised up and hovered over the Colonel, turned just so–

Mustang noticed too late. The full bouquet and water dumped squarely onto his head, petals clinging to his hair like judgment.

The office froze. Falman made a choking noise. Havoc nearly fell out of his chair.

Roy, still holding the dripping receiver to his ear, blinked slowly. His hair, once carefully styled, hung in dripping strands over his forehead, a rogue trail of water carving a slow, mocking path down his cheek. For a moment, he just stared ahead, utterly motionless. 

There was a long silence. Then he raised the phone back to his mouth, deadpan.

“… I’ll call you back.”

Mustang gently set the receiver down. He stood still for a moment, posture taut. Water pooled onto Hawkeye’s desk, somehow avoiding any of her personal items and paperwork on the surface. A carnation sat on his lapel like a final insult.

This wasn’t a prank. No one had moved. No one had lit a spark. He’d seen no alchemic charge, no smug grin from Edward this time– not even a smirk. The vase had just… floated. With intent. Like it had a mission.

Roy pressed a hand to his forehead.

This couldn’t just be bad luck… He was being targeted.

By what, he couldn’t say. Possibly Edward. Possibly divine punishment. Possibly a vengeful spirit.

… Possibly his own subconscious, slowly dragging him into madness over something he refused to admit out loud.

Because if it was Edward– if Edward somehow was behind all this– then what the hell did it mean that Roy didn’t really want it to stop?

He shivered as water slid down the back of his neck. Again.

God help him.

— 

He made it to his date that evening in one piece, and with his clothing (mostly) dry.

The bistro was one of Central’s more charming places– tucked away on a quiet corner, strung with warm lights and filled with low conversation and soft piano from inside. Roy sat across from a well-dressed woman in a silky green dress, her laugh easy and her expression affectionate as she sipped her wine. To any observer, they looked like a perfectly matched couple enjoying a romantic evening.

In truth, she was his foster sister, Miriam– a brilliant, intelligent woman with a dry wit and no patience for the patriarchy.

"You know this charade would be a lot more convincing if you didn't keep glancing over your shoulder like you were expecting an ambush," she said, arching a brow as she swirled the glass in her hand.

"I am expecting an ambush,” Roy muttered grimly. “One of... metaphysical origin, apparently."

Miriam gave him a long look. “Should I be concerned?”

He leaned back, resigned. “Only if you’re carrying any important documents on you. Or dignity. The universe has decided I’m not allowed to have either.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but just then a passing waiter tripped slightly as he was walking by. The glasses he had been carrying, unfortunately, did not survive the stumble, and a sizable splash of water was sent slapping against Roy’s cheek. Miriam, dry and untouched across the table, blinked at him while he froze mid-sentence.

“...See?” Roy hissed through his teeth.

“Unbelievable.” She passed him another napkin with an amused smirk. “Are you sure this isn’t karma? Do anything to piss the universe off lately?”

“I’ve considered that,” he grumbled, blotting at his collar.

Miriam arched a brow. “Well, glass half-full, and all that. Could be worse. At least you’re not on a date with someone who might actually try to seduce you.”

Roy huffed, lips twitching despite himself. But the moment her words landed, something… shifted. His stomach did a strange flip. His mind, entirely uninvited, conjured a mental image of a different dinner– one with gold eyes watching him over the rim of a glass, elbow on the table, smirking like he knew every single thing Roy was trying not to feel.

God help me, Roy thought, I’d rather it be Edward across from me.

The thought rocketed through his brain like a lightning strike. He was still reeling from the jolt when he offered Miriam a crooked smile that he hoped was dazzling enough to fool any passersby.

“My dear,” he said, voice filled with faux affection, “there’s no one else I’d rather share this evening with.”

The universe, apparently, took offense.

Behind him, a second waiter stumbled– an entire tray of water glasses tilted off-kilter in his hands, like some divine force had nudged it with a smug finger. Time slowed. Roy glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a perfect wave of ice water tip toward him and drench his back, shoulders, and lap before his mind had even caught on to what was happening.

His chair scraped against the stone as he lurched upright, face a frozen mask of disbelief.

Miriam snorted behind her napkin. “You alright there, Romeo?”

He didn’t answer. Not at first. The waiter was scrambling to apologize, offering consolation for the mistake, but Mustang paid him no attention. He just stared at the ever-familiar puddle collecting at his feet, jaw slightly slack, thoughts racing. He was absolutely sure of it this time.

This… this isn’t a coincidence.

The timing. The frequency. The pettiness.

It wasn’t the weather. It wasn’t the waitstaff. It was targeted, emotional, temperamental– like a jealous poltergeist with a flair for dramatics.

And the worst part? The absolute worst part?

The universe wants me to be with Edward Elric.

Wants him to think about his underage subordinate in ways that were deeply, profoundly inappropriate.

Roy blinked once, twice.

Oh my god.

He was being haunted… by the power of horny divine intervention.

He tried to shake the thought from his head. Tried to shake the water out of his sleeves. Both efforts were in vain.

He finally addressed the poor waiter, allowing him to apologize and say his piece, but ultimately refusing any attempt at monetary compensation. After all, it was only water (even if it nearly killed him to say those words aloud). 

By the time their food arrived, Roy had given up entirely on maintaining appearances. He sat stiff and soaked, wanting the evening to be over already. Miriam, enjoying the opportunity to be doted on and fawned over with no ulterior motives, carried on the conversation casually. Noticing a bit of sauce on the outer corner of her mouth, he unthinkingly reacted as any caring sibling would, and reached across the table to gently swipe the mess away with his napkin.

Really, he shouldn’t have been so stupid.

He had barely sat back in his seat before he heard the lawn sprinklers hiss to life. Jets of water arced around the patio tables in deliberate avoidance of every other guest– until they converged squarely on Roy Mustang, soaking him for the third time that evening.

Other diners yelped in surprise and scrambled from their chairs. Roy didn’t move. He sat in place, hair plastered to his forehead, the tips of his ears red with rage, confusion, and something very close to resignation.

He looked down at his now-dripping steak, then up at Miriam, who was holding her sides in laughter.

“Okay, I don’t think you’re being paranoid anymore,” she managed to wheeze.

Roy slowly wiped his face with the corner of the tablecloth. His eye twitched.

“If I find out this is Fullmetal,” he muttered, “I am going to promote him just so I can demote him.”

“Right,” Miriam said, taking another sip of wine, “but maybe do it after you ask him out.”

Roy choked on nothing.

“I– what– ask … I’m not–! That’s not–!”

She raised an eyebrow, taking a long, leisurely sip as he sputtered through several syllables that never formed a real word.

“Oh come on, Roy,” she said, setting the glass down with a clink and rolling her eyes. “You’re blushing like a schoolboy right now. It’s so obvious.”

Roy scowled, downing the rest of his glass. 

“It’s not obvious,” he mumbled, still too damp and too stubborn to give her the satisfaction. “It’s just… very complicated.”

“Well sure it is,” she said, waving a hand airily. “But that kid is like… stupidly good-looking. And obviously very creative. I mean–” she gestured to the puddle under his chair, “this is basically performance art.”

Roy gave her a withering look that would have reduced lesser people to ash. Miriam, however, just grinned wider.

“You're allowed to like someone, Roy. Even if they’re infuriating. Even if they drop the entire Cretan Sea on your head when you try to flirt with someone else.”

“I wasn’t flirting… ”

“You said, and I quote: ‘my dear, there’s no one else I’d rather share this evening with’ like you were in a goddamn screenplay.” She greatly exaggerated the delivery of his earlier line, but nonetheless Roy felt the heat from the tips of his ears surge across the rest of his face in embarrassment.

“I was playing a role! You’ve been doing the same thing all night!” 

“Sure you were,” She said, standing up with a smug little hum and holding out her hand. “Come on, loverboy. Walk me home before your poltergeist realizes I’m dry and decides to change that.”

Roy grumbled something unintelligible under his breath but offered her his arm anyway, hoping that the water dripping from his elbow onto her dress was enough to make her regret her earlier snark as they stepped into the night.

She didn’t say another word, content to smirk to herself the entire walk back– while Roy sulked beside her like a wet cat, still trying to convince himself that none of this meant anything .

And yet, as he bade her farewell at her door, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being shepherded– by the universe, by Miriam, by that damn glint in Edward’s eye– straight toward something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Edward like this.

Not even if Edward wanted him to. Not even if everyone seemed to want him to.

But desire, he was learning, didn’t care for rank or reason– and the more he tried to smother it, the more it warmed to the spark.

— THURSDAY —

Roy came in armed for battle.

Raincoat: check. Waterproof boots: check. A fresh change of clothes hung neatly in his office wardrobe? Also check. He was done playing victim to whatever supernatural vendetta had it out for his dry cleaning. Whether it was a ghost, the universe, or Edward Elric himself– he was going to get to the bottom of it today.

He ignored the odd looks from his subordinates and strode into the office with a very simple, very stupid plan:

Make Edward so irritated, so unbelievably jealous, that the kid would have to crack and reveal himself as the mastermind behind the coordinated drenchings.

"Morning, Sir," Hawkeye greeted without looking up, likely recognizing the squelch of his footsteps on the floor as he breezed into the office. Roy grunted in return, dropping his coat with a wet slap onto the rack. Edward was already at his desk, scribbling something in a notebook, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth in focus. Perfect .

Roy cleared his throat and addressed the office. “So. Date went well.”

Edward didn’t look up, but his shoulders tensed, just barely.

Roy pressed on. “Very well, actually. We’ve made plans for a second one. Somewhere more private this time.”

Now Ed looked up. Sharp and slow, eyes gleaming with the kind of dangerous curiosity usually reserved for transmutation circles and top-secret textbooks.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, voice neutral in the way that meant he wanted to throw something. “What’s her name again? Misty ?”

“Miriam,” Roy corrected smoothly, taking a seat in Fuery’s vacant chair and reclining in it with the air of a man who definitely hadn’t slipped on his own wet kitchen tiles that morning. “She’s… captivating. We really hit it off.”

Edward rolled his eyes, like he could see through Roy’s little charade with complete clarity. “Oh yeah? Hope you told her you come with a constant 60% chance of precipitation.”

“That’s what keeps things exciting. Never know if it’s gonna be wine or water next.” Roy shot back. Ed let out a dry laugh.

“Sounds magical. Must’ve been love at first ‘ dripping wet and miserable ’.” He deadpanned.

It was easy banter, sharp and fast. Roy found himself smiling despite the tension that still lingered from yesterday’s unspoken flower bouquet fiasco. For a moment, it almost felt normal– like their usual rhythm, fire against fire.

But then Roy pushed it too far.

“Funny, you seem to be more upset about this date than she was about the waterworks.” Roy teased. “Careful, Ed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pining. ”

Edward’s expression faltered.

There was a pause.

“Yeah? Well, lucky for both of us, you don’t know better.”

He started collecting some of the files he was reviewing, not looking at Roy. 

“I’m happy for you, Colonel,” Edward said, pushing to his feet with too much force. “Really. Hope she gives you everything you want.”

And with that, he walked off– stiff posture, sharp steps– leaving Roy standing there in the wake of something that suddenly felt irreparably wrong.

Roy’s heart thudded as he registered the flicker in Edward’s eyes– too sharp, too bright. That wasn’t sarcasm anymore. That was hurt. Real, raw, and barely hidden.

Before Roy could say anything to call him back, the ceiling above him groaned– and then snapped , unleashing a sudden and merciless waterfall from a pipe that had apparently burst on cue. He staggered back with a curse, water sheeting down over his head in a mirror of the cold realization seeping into his heart. Papers on Feury’s desk curled and bled ink; his boots squelched.

Havoc looked up from across the room, blinked, and said, “Holy shit.”

Edward was already halfway to the door, expression blank.

Roy stood in the middle of the mess, soaked to the bone and stinging with something worse than cold.

He deserved this.

The realization landed heavy in his chest. God, he thought, what am I doing?

He had played it like a joke, like a game– taunting Edward with fake charm and imagined flirtations just to get a rise out of him. And it had worked. Too well. Now he’d seen exactly what it looked like when Ed stopped being angry and just got hurt instead.

—

Over the course of the day, the storm of retaliation never let up. The attacks continued without rhyme or reason. Faucets exploded near him without warning. A potted plant tipped off a windowsill and somehow splashed its entire reservoir directly into his lap. The office water cooler emptied itself onto his chair when he wasn’t looking.

But Roy didn’t retaliate. Didn’t joke. He let it all happen in resigned silence.

He felt the team’s questioning concern following him everywhere he went, but how could he even begin to explain the tangled mess of thoughts in his head? He was resigned to the situation, but that didn’t mean he himself understood it. For the most part, they worked in silence– Edward, stubbornly so. He only broke his silence to make barbed quips at Roy’s water-logged state any opportunity he could. 

By the time dusk rolled in, Roy was exhausted in a way that went bone-deep. He had long abandoned any notion of figuring out the mystery. It didn’t matter if it was Edward, or fate, or some higher being with a twisted sense of romance– he had lost. Definitively. Spectacularly.

He was wringing out his sleeves at his desk when Ed stood, tucking a book under his arm.

“I’m heading to the library,” Edward announced, not looking at him. Roy, pathetically damp, couldn’t muster anything more than a sigh. 

“Not sure how much more of this I can take…” He mumbled it without meaning to.

Edward paused in the doorway. Just long enough to be noticeable. Just long enough for Roy to glance up, entranced by the way the light caught on the gold of his hair, the quiet tension in his shoulders.

“Maybe,” Edward said, not turning around, “it’s the universe’s way of telling you that you belong with someone else.”

Then he left. The door clicked shut behind him.

Roy didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there in a puddle of his own making, chest hollowed out by the weight of it all.

Maybe it’s not even him. Maybe I really just fucked this up. Maybe I hurt him just to make myself feel better.

He leaned heavily against the desk, water dripping from his sleeves.

And maybe I deserve every drop of it.

— FRIDAY —

Roy trudged into the office like a man preparing to be punched by the weather again, despite being very much indoors. After the night he’d had, he felt fully entitled to a little melodrama. 

First, the brand-new plumbing in his apartment had burst, flooding half his kitchen and forcing him to give his best shot at patchwork alchemy to stem the flow before it reached his bookshelves of prized tomes. 

Then, later in the evening, his shower had decided to rebel– cycling violently between boiling him alive and flash-freezing him every forty seconds. He’d spent twenty full minutes sulking under the stream… too tired to fix it, too miserable to leave. Even when the water mellowed into a perfect temperature that he found his tense muscles relaxing under, it still hadn’t done a damn thing to rinse off the weight pressing down on him.

Roy had then pressed his palms to the tile, head bowed, steam curling around him like a fog of shame. He had kept replaying the week over and over– each perfectly-timed soaking, each paranoid thought sent Edward’s way, each calculated jab meant to provoke Edward into slipping up. Into confessing to something Roy had no actual proof of.

It was all gut instinct– no facts, no real foundation. Every sign had been pure speculation on his part. And last night… last night had driven it home. The entire night, there hadn’t been a single piece of evidence that Edward had been anywhere near his home… and that sealed the deal didn’t it? Because the water still. Kept. Coming.

It felt damning.

Because if Edward wasn’t the cause of all this– and Roy was starting to truly believe he couldn’t possibly be– then that meant he’d taken something personal and sacred, and used it as a weapon. Edward’s feelings. His crush. Whatever it was. Roy had twisted it in his hands and aimed it like a knife, just to prove a point that may never have existed in the first place.

God, what if he’d ruined it?

What if Edward never looked at him the same way again?

By the time he’d forced himself out and into his favorite loungewear which did nothing to lighten his mood, he had been emotionally wrung out, vaguely pruny, and so very done with this week.

He just wanted today to end before it even began. Preferably without incident, without mockery, and above all, without another damn drop of water.

But as he stepped inside the office that Friday morning, already pouting and sulking with the theatrical gloom of a Victorian poet caught in a thunderstorm, he had the distinct, soul-sinking feeling that the universe– and Edward Elric– had other plans.

He didn’t even bother with a greeting.

“Nice coat,” Edward called out cheerfully from somewhere to his left, his tone all sugar and knives.

“Don’t start, Edward,” Roy grumbled, not even glancing his way. “It’s been a hell of a week.”

Ed snickered from across the room, and Roy felt his heart give a briefly relieved tug through his exhaustion. At least there seemed to be no hard feelings after yesterday…

He dropped into his desk chair with a groan, tugging at the drawstrings of his hood until it loosened enough for him to breathe. Then, with a long, slow sigh, he finally looked up– and immediately regretted it.

Edward was perched on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, legs swinging slightly, wearing a grin that could only be described as weaponized. He looked like a man who had just perfected a petty revenge recipe and couldn’t wait to serve it piping hot.

Roy eyed him warily, his plans to have a quiet morning and make a sizable dent in his paperwork by lunchtime disintegrated instantly as he realized he was going to have to deal with whatever this was first. 

Edward smirked. “I bet it has. Hard to enjoy your Friday when your entire house tries to drown you the night before, huh?”

Roy froze. Just for a beat. Just long enough for Edward to notice. And that cheshire grin only grew.

“…How did you—?” he started, voice sharp with suspicion.

Edward tilted his head, blinking with theatrical innocence.

Roy’s stomach sank.

Because he knew that look. It was the look of someone who’d caught their prey with a perfectly laid trap. And he’d walked straight into it, dripping and exhausted, without a single ounce of strength left to stop it. Edward shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Remember that shit I had to talk to you about earlier this week? The super important thing?” 

Roy didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Every instinct in his body told him he was staring down the barrel of something dangerous, and not in the tactical, battlefield kind of way. Edward’s gaze dragged over him like a slow match on dry paper. Roy’s mouth went dry as an involuntary shiver slid down his arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He tried not to notice how warm his face suddenly felt.

“Well,” Ed went on, cocky grin sharpening, “I don’t know how– and it seems like it’s done with now– but somehow, Truth gave me some of his abilities.”

Roy blinked. Hard. His brain short-circuited somewhere between divine nonsense and scientific impossibility. 

“You mean ‘Truth’ as in… God?” He worked the words out slowly, once he was certain Edward wasn’t pulling his leg.

“‘Truth’, ‘God’, ‘the Universe’, ‘Freak in White’– whatever you wanna call him.” Ed waved a hand like it was all semantics.

Roy stared up at him, expression carefully blank but eyes screaming confusion. “So… God gave you powers. ” Edward shrugged again, and for a moment Roy was genuinely concerned the little shit was going to stop there and leave him hanging with God powers and zero context. But then the grin was back.

“Something like that… Seems to be related to telekinesis stuff, mostly. Like breaking coffee machines and, say, moving water in midair.” 

“... You’ve had omnipotent powers this entire week?” Roy’s voice cracked halfway through the sentence, strained with disbelief. He looked at Edward like he’d grown a second automail arm and used it to slap him in the face. There’s no fucking way… All of that, and he’d been right about it being Edward the whole time?

Edward waved his hand and rolled his eyes with dramatic flair. “We’ve covered that part.” He deadpanned. “Keep up.”

Roy ignored the sass, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to pinch the bridge of his nose or start tearing his own hair out.

“And you’ve been using it to dump water over my head?”

“I used it to teleport a couple times, too– wanted to see what the ocean looked like,” Edward muttered with a shrug, gaze sliding away like it wasn’t a big deal. Then, just as casually, “Not everything’s about you.”

Roy actually gawked. “So, just to be clear: you decided to make me miserable all week because you were– what? Jealous or something ?”

Edward bristled immediately. He jolted up from his perch, golden eyes wide with horror.

“Wha– no! You were being an ass, per usual, so I got back at you!” He snapped, heat flaring in his cheeks as he tried to steamroll past the accusation. But the crack was already showing– his scowl faltered, his eyes darted away. The next breath he took was sharp, as if preparing for impact, and when he spoke again, his voice had dropped, quieter, rough around the edges.

“At first, anyway.. But then you also went on that damn date… so, maybe… a little…” 

There it was. Quiet. Honest. Reluctantly bare.

Roy paused, the words settling over him like warm rain. His breath hitched slightly, caught between surprise and something dangerously close to affection. It was ridiculous– this soaked, sulking mess of a week. But hearing Ed say it out loud…

It was brave– and surprisingly sincere. Well, Roy couldn’t just let a teenager show him up in the emotional maturity department. He sighed.

“It wasn’t real,” he said at last, scrubbing a hand down his face like it physically pained him to admit it. 

Edward blinked, visibly thrown. “What wasn’t?”

Roy let out a slow, suffering sigh, knowing this was going to be a longer conversation than he wanted it to be. His voice dropped lower, quieter, like it might hurt less if no one else heard. “The date. It wasn’t a real date.”

Edward squinted, head tilting like he was trying to catch Roy at a lie. “So… what? You went out with someone on a fake date? Why?”

Roy winced. “My aunt owns a brothel in the city.”

Ed’s eyebrows climbed halfway to his hairline.

“Sometimes,” Roy continued, eyes flitting around to look at anything except the perplexed boy on the other side of the desk. “I take a few of her employees out… under the guise of dates. But really… they’re just passing along information. Intel. Contacts. That sort of thing.”

Silence fell heavy between them. He could almost hear the gears cranking away in Edward’s head at the no doubt jarring information.

“You run a network of spy hookers?” Ed asked flatly.

Roy raised a hand to his face and groaned into it. “I don’t think they’d appreciate being called that.”

Another pause.

“Wait,” Edward said slowly, “so you’re not actually dating that Miriam chick?”

“No!” Roy looked up, indignant. “God, she’s like my sister. That would be– no.”

A flicker of realization crossed Edward’s face, followed by something else. Something lighter. Warmer. A little smug.

“Oh. Cool,” he said, like it wasn’t the most loaded word in the universe. Then, after the briefest pause:
“You wanna grab dinner sometime?”

Roy’s brain came to a full stop without warning. Edward Elric’s uncanny ability to derail a conversation with zero warning and maximum impact would never stop being both infuriating and– if Roy were honest– a little impressive.

He blinked, stunned, before a laugh punched out of him– half disbelief, half surrender.

“You’re the worst ,” he said, shaking his head as the grin tugged at his mouth anyway. “I sincerely hope you’re aware of that.”

Edward grinned like he’d been knighted. “Flattery’ll get you everywhere.” Ed leaned back on his heels, hands tucked behind his head, smug and waiting. “So? You free tonight?”

Roy ignored the question entirely as he asked his own, still wary. “You’re sure you’re no longer a walking natural disaster?”

“Powers are gone,” Ed said, far too casually for someone who’d held dominion over space and time only hours prior. “Haven’t been able to topple so much as a glass of water all morning, and believe me– I’ve been trying.”

Roy gave a slow nod, standing from his desk. “In that case… dinner might not kill me.”

Edward’s grin bloomed into something indecently radiant.

“But,” Roy added immediately, holding up a hand like a traffic cop, “none of those seafood restaurants with the indoor aquariums, and absolutely nowhere near the river. I mean it. If there’s so much as a puddle in sight, I’m calling the whole thing off.”

Ed laughed. “You’re such a baby.””

Roy sputtered. “YOU terrorized me for a week straight! And gaslit me the whole time!”

“It was just water, princess,” Ed snorted. “You’re lucky I didn’t summon a tidal wave and knock your whole smug ass into next week.” Roy rolled his eyes and turned toward the door, only pausing to catch Riza’s eye across the office. She simply gave the smallest of nods in permission, and Roy sighed in acceptance as he caught the twinkle in her eye. He was never living this down. He knew he’d be due for no short amount of teasing come next week, but somehow the prospect of dinner with Edward made it seem worth it.

They both grabbed their coats and made their way out of the office, Roy reaching for Edward’s hand to lace their fingers together as they did. They headed out into the crisp evening air, hands clasped, steps in sync. A thought occurred to him.

“... You do realize you probably could have used it to get your bodies back, right?”

Edward froze. Blinked. Slowly turned to stare at him, expression morphing from confusion to sheer disbelieving horror. 

“MOTHERFUCKER!”