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Central City of the early morning hours, lit by the pinks, reds and oranges of the rising sun, is quiet. In a candlemark’s time, the street Ed is walking down will be a bustling one, full of servants shopping for supplies for their masters’ breakfast and early risers looking to beat the crowds. But, for now, there is just him, a couple stragglers making their way home from the pleasure district he’d come from, and the smells and sounds of a waking city. It’s how he likes it, free of the distraction of other people: of their body odor and perfume, of the soap used to launder their clothing, of the sounds of their talking and their footsteps.
Central City in its waking hours is a nightmare for Ed. But, the things he does for the people he cares for, and having breakfast every morning with Roy Mustang and stealing his bed for a nap before he’s expected back at Chris’ is something Ed looks forward to.
He’s gone through the east gate enough times that the soldiers set to guard it don’t do more than just gesture him through with bored expressions. The two this morning are regulars to the position; he can always tell when they’re new: in a country where blond hair isn’t uncommon, his blond hair is too golden to not be noticed, especially with his large golden eyes and tanned skin, and the new recruits always follow his every move when he walks through the gate. At Chris’ establishment or when he visited a client in their home, his exoticness – his otherness in a country of people who all look the same - is always played up with elaborate fabrics and jewelry from their native Xing or reminiscent of the legendary Xerxes – that fabled land where dragons like Ed and his brother Al were from originally – but for his daily treks to the academy, a simple shirt, jerkin, breeches and boots are more than enough.
Once through the gate, he still has a mile’s walk to reach the academy proper, and then more walking to reach the dorms themselves. But there’s the promise of Roy’s company at the end of it, so he makes his way through the open fields and forests that surround Central City until he can see the wall that makes up the outer boundary of the academy. Two more soldiers that know Ed by appearance are guarding the main gate of the academy, and Ed ignores the invitation for a drink that evening from one of them like he always does. Low-ranking soldiers like the guards here and the ones back at the city gates don’t make enough to even be granted entrance at Chris’ establishment, nevermind even half an hour of Ed’s time. And there’s only two men Ed’s willing to spend his free time with, and he’s almost to the dorm room of one of them.
Soon, he’s in front of the dorms themselves, and he makes short work of the climb to Roy’s third floor dorm. As usual, Roy’s window is open and he slides it up, landing on cat-quiet feet. He crouches there a moment, eyes focused on the bed to figure out which version of Roy he’ll get this morning. Sometimes, Roy’s already awake, sitting up in bed and reading while he waits for Ed to show. Sometimes, Roy’s just waking up as Ed climbs into his window. But sometimes, Roy hasn’t woken up yet when Ed gets there, and Ed gets to climb into Roy’s bed and watch as Roy wakes.
It's the last version of Roy that Ed likes best, because he can whisper all the things he’d never tell Roy while the other man was awake and touch his face like he can’t while Roy’s awake. That his face is the first thing Roy sees in the morning.
He approaches the bed quietly, pulling off his boots as he goes, careful to not let them drop and wake Roy. He pulls back the covers carefully, slipping under them and tucking himself in as close to Roy as he can. Just once, he thinks, he’d like to slip his leg between Roy’s, press himself so close to the other man that the slightest roll of one of them would bring one of them on top of the other.
Ed ghosts a finger along the line of Roy’s cheekbone to where it meets Roy’s jawline, then follows the line of Roy’s jaw to his chin. If he were braver, if he were someone else, Ed would use his hand on Roy’s chin to pull him in for a slow kiss to wake him. But Ed is a coward, is a courtesan, takes other men to his bed for coin and gives a portion of that coin – along with information – to Roy’s aunt, and Roy deserves so much better than a cowardly dragon forced to hide in human form.
Ed wants Roy in his bed when the night ends, not a cold bed that smells like other men and expensive soap, but he has to settle for this: climbing into Roy’s dorm window and joining him for breakfast and then taking a nap surrounded by Roy’s scent.
Before his hands can wander further, Ed pulls them back, tucking his hands under the pillow he’s sharing with Roy to watch Roy’s sleeping face. Ed enjoys watching Roy sleep; Roy’s been looking faintly worried lately and Ed wishes he could smooth away the frown lines, ease his worries, but when he’s asleep, Roy looks younger than his twenty-three summers. He can tell Roy’s dreaming by the little twitches behind his eyes and the way his nose scrunches every so often. Ed hopes it’s a good dream.
Ed doesn’t know how long he watches Roy twitch in his sleep, dreaming away, before Roy’s face smooths out once more. A moment later, Roy shifts closer to Ed with a soft sigh, one arm shifting to wrap around Ed’s waist. They’ve always been physically affectionate in waking hours, but this feels far too intimate. Far too close to what Ed wants between them. And he knows he should freeze, should pull away, should say something, anything, but instead, Ed shifts closer, sliding his leg between Roy’s like he’d wanted to earlier.
Ed’s movements are slow, done with careful examination of Roy’s face, waiting for the moment when Roy wakes up completely and realizes what they’re doing, how close they are. Surely, whatever – whoever - Roy had been dreaming about hadn’t been Ed, and Ed’s just a convenient warm body in the aftermath of the dream.
Ed’s jealous of whoever Roy might have his eye on.
As Roy pulls Ed impossibly close to his body, so close that Ed can feel every line, every muscle of the other man’s body, Ed lets out the breath he’s been holding, feeling it brush against Roy’s face. Roy’s eyes open slowly at that, the dark gaze sleepily scanning over Ed’s face. That gaze makes Ed hold his breath again, waiting for recognition to kick in, but all Roy does is smile sleepily at him.
“Hi,” Roy whispers, the word puffing against Ed’s lips. Ed swallows, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between their mouths, press his lips to Roy’s just to feel them, but he’s already gone further than he dares. “I dreamt about you.”
“I hope it was a nice dream,” Ed whispers back, glad his voice doesn’t waver, but waiting for Roy to wake up completely and realize it’s just Ed in his bed and not anyone special. He knows Roy has dreams that feature Ed in them, but as far as Ed knows, they’re not the same kind of dreams that Roy stars in for Ed.
The arm around Ed’s waist leaves, the hand coming up to rub at Roy’s eye. “It was just that dream again.”
That dream. Ed knows that dream; Roy’s had it for years, ever since they’d escaped Xing when they were children. Ed and Al don’t remember Xing, don’t remember the clan house they’d hatched in, and Chris has always said that the trauma of the night they ran created a block in Roy’s memory. But sometimes, Roy dreams of that night: dreams of fire and screaming and blood and having to babysit two scared hatchlings while Chris hid them in a closet from invaders.
It's not a happy dream.
But, as Roy’s arm returns to where it had been around Ed’s waist, Roy seems happy in the early morning light. Like maybe, just maybe, Roy likes seeing Ed’s face first thing in the morning. That maybe, what’s making Ed’s heart race right now is also a thought in Roy’s mind.
He can only hope.