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The house Roy Mustang owned had many dignified qualities. Tall windows. Polished wooden floors. Shelves full of books arranged with deliberate aesthetic care. A fireplace that actually worked and did not exist purely for decoration. From the outside it looked like the residence of a respectable military officer who had finally allowed himself the luxury of quiet domestic life.
Inside, however, it contained Edward Elric.
Which meant that at any given moment something extremely strange was probably happening.
Roy discovered this particular instance on a Sunday morning when he walked into the study and found Edward standing in the middle of the room glaring at a teacup like it had insulted several generations of his family.
The sunlight streamed through the windows in long pale rectangles, dust drifting lazily through the air. The room smelled faintly of ink and old paper. Everything was calm. Peaceful.
Edward, however, looked personally offended by existence.
Roy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. “Should I ask,” he said with careful diplomacy, “what the teacup has done to deserve that expression?”
Edward didn’t turn around immediately. He remained fixed in place, shoulders stiff, eyes narrowed at the small porcelain cup sitting on the desk.
Then he said, very flatly, “It moved.”
Roy blinked once.
“Moved,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
Roy stepped further into the room, gaze shifting between Edward and the cup in question. It was an entirely ordinary teacup. White porcelain with a blue rim. Completely stationary.
“I see,” Roy said, with the calm tone of a man who had once negotiated with foreign dignitaries while a building burned nearby. “And how exactly did it move?”
Edward finally turned his head.
The look on his face was complicated. Half suspicion. Half irritation. And a small portion of the particular embarrassment that came from experiencing something odd while fully aware it sounded ridiculous.
“It slid,” Ed said.
Roy glanced at the desk again.
“Edward.”
“I’m serious.”
“I believe you,” Roy replied smoothly, which was technically true in the sense that he believed Edward believed it. “And you’re certain you didn’t… nudge it?”
Ed’s eyes narrowed further. “Do you see my hands touching it?”
Roy allowed a thoughtful pause. “No.”
“Exactly.”
Roy walked closer, circling the desk with slow curiosity. Edward watched him like a hawk, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Roy leaned down and examined the cup.
It did not move.
He gently tapped the desk surface.
Still nothing.
Roy hummed quietly. “Fascinating.”
Edward’s eye twitched.
“You think I imagined it,” he said.
“I think,” Roy replied calmly, “that there are several possible explanations.”
Edward leaned forward slightly, suspicious. “Such as?”
Roy tapped the desk again, this time near the edge.
The teacup slid two inches.
Edward froze.
Roy slowly straightened.
The silence that followed was thick enough to slice.
Edward turned his head very slowly toward Roy.
“You did that,” he said.
Roy held up both hands. “Gravity did that.”
Edward stared at the desk.
Then he crouched suddenly, peering underneath with the intensity of a detective discovering a conspiracy. Roy watched with mild interest as Edward examined the underside of the desk, the legs, the floorboards, the angle of the sunlight.
Eventually Ed stood again, expression stormy.
“The desk is crooked.”
Roy coughed into his fist.
“It is not crooked,” Roy said diplomatically.
“It is crooked,” Ed snapped, pointing dramatically at the floor. “The boards slope.”
Roy glanced down. The floorboards did indeed tilt slightly toward the window. A minor imperfection in an otherwise elegant old house.
Edward looked back at the teacup with renewed hostility.
“So you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that this entire time my tea has been trying to escape because your house is leaning.”
Roy folded his arms. “I prefer the phrase architectural character.”
Edward picked up the teacup and glared into it like it personally owed him money.
“This explains so much,” he muttered.
Roy tilted his head. “Such as?”
“My pencils kept rolling off the desk yesterday.”
Roy smiled faintly. “A tragedy.”
Edward shot him a look that promised mild violence.
Then he set the cup down again.
They both watched.
It sat still for about three seconds.
Then, very slowly, it began to glide toward the edge of the desk.
Edward lunged forward and caught it before it could fall.
He straightened, holding the cup like a captured criminal.
“This is stupid,” he declared.
Roy, unfortunately, had started laughing.
Not loudly. Not cruelly. Just the quiet, uncontrollable kind that came from watching Edward Elric wage war against furniture.
Edward scowled.
“You find this funny.”
“A little.”
“You’re the one who bought the crooked house.”
Roy leaned casually against the desk. “And yet you’re the one fighting the teacup.”
Edward considered this.
Then he very deliberately placed the cup back on the desk.
It slid again.
Edward snatched it up immediately.
Roy watched the entire sequence with deep interest.
Edward turned toward him slowly, eyes narrowed.
“You knew,” he accused.
Roy blinked innocently. “Knew what?”
“That the desk slopes.”
Roy placed a thoughtful finger against his chin.
“I may have noticed.”
Edward stared.
“You watched me glare at this thing for five minutes knowing it was your stupid house.”
Roy smiled in that calm, irritating way that had once driven Edward to attempt homicide.
“I was curious how long it would take you to figure it out.”
Edward looked at the cup in his hand.
Then at Roy.
Then back at the cup.
Finally he set it down very carefully in the center of the desk again.
It slid.
Edward grabbed it.
He turned to Roy with complete seriousness.
“I’m keeping it.”
Roy blinked. “The cup?”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose?”
Edward hugged it to his chest like a prize.
“So it stops trying to escape.”
Roy studied him for a moment.
Then he sighed softly and shook his head, amused.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said.
Edward sniffed.
“Says the man who bought a haunted desk.”
Roy raised an eyebrow.
Edward met his gaze, stubborn and completely sincere.
“The cup moved first,” he said firmly. “I’m just managing the situation.”