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“What do you think?”
Ed steps into the living room and does a little spin. He stops, pops one hip, and sets the tip of his new cane down with a decisive tap.
“It suits you,” Roy admits fondly. “Although I still would have gone for something a little more… stately.”
“Boring,” Ed interrupts.
“Regal.”
“Nah, that wouldn’t have matched any of my outfits, and I know you care about shit like that.”
Roy deliberately trails his gaze down the length of Ed’s body, clearly admiring the perfectly tailored waistcoat, impeccably hemmed slacks, and freshly shined loafers. Roy has been a good influence on him indeed, because Ed looks good. Although he always looks handsome, today he is especially radiant, brimming with all the confidence he has painfully cultivated over the last few weeks as he has agonized about this decision, and he looks ready to take his first steps out into a world which will look twice at him for more than just his looks or famous talent now. It hasn’t been an easy journey. Ed’s anger has been simmering just beneath the surface, his self-loathing evident, his belief that he is weak, is lesser than, nearly drowning him, but…
“Gorgeous,” Roy breathes in that particular tone he knows will bring a flush to Ed’s cheeks.
“Yeah?” After many years of diligent flattery, Ed rarely asks for confirmation when Roy compliments him anymore. It speaks to how nervous he is about this new change.
“Yes.”
“Want to take it for a spin?”
Roy pushes up off their worn, leather couch and offers Ed a hand. “I’d be delighted.”
Ed smacks the hand away with a scowl. “Yeah, yeah. Put your shoes on. You think you’re so damned funny, don’t you?”
“I do,” Roy admits, but he goes to do as he was told. Ed had brandished the cane at him earlier in a manner that read more threatening than suggestive, despite his intentions, and Roy does not want to know what kind of mark a pewter skull will leave on his behind.
He kneels to do up his laces and takes a moment to admire the cane from this angle. Sleek, black wood makes up the length of it, gleaming in the fading afternoon light filtering through the frosted glass windows in the foyer. He can just make out a hint of the woodgrain, which gives it a rich, antique feel. It is capped on both ends by pewter, a stark contrast to the warm undertones of Ed’s skin. His fingers wrap around the skull comfortably, which they’d made sure would be the case when they were having it machined. Two little garnets peer out from its eyes.
“Are you sure it doesn’t need… oh, I don’t know.” Roy waves a hand before returning to his task. “Wings, flames, something of that sort?”
“It has an understated elegance,” Ed says. “Duh. Who are you and what have you done with Roy Mustang?”
“I’m just surprised, still, by how much your taste has matured.” Roy stands.
“Yeah, whatever.” Ed sweeps the butt of the cane towards Roy’s ass before Roy can so much as smirk at him, although thankfully he misses. “Get a move on.”
For all that Ed looks calm, prepared, at peace, a little angry as usual, he still hesitates on the first step, looking at his legs as if they’ve betrayed him, which in many ways they have. He has always been a man who stood on his own two feet, whether or not he had two to speak of. His body’s increasing limitations are a slap in the face. He needs this, though, if he wants to keep moving forward as he always has done. He’s in pain more often than not these days, not just from the automail, but he has never had an easy time asking for help, especially not for things he fully believes are his fault and his due.
Roy likes to think he’s encouraged Ed to be a little more forgiving of himself, though. Say what you will about their relationship—tumultuous, too long in the making, perhaps a little inappropriate, but deeply, deeply devoted—they have both helped each other become better versions of themselves. Roy also likes to think that that is the mark of a good relationship.
Ed takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders, and descends the two steps from their front door without further faltering. Once he sets his mind to something, nothing can stop him.
They take their usual route towards the park, a near nightly ritual for them which they partake in just after dinnertime, if both of them are home and not stuck at the office or traveling. The familiarity is soothing. Ed settles into a steady cadence with it—step, tap, step, step, tap—only accidentally bumping the cane a few times when he forgets to lift it high enough. It makes a jarring noise against the sidewalk when drags, which seems to startle him a little, but soon they are off onto the green, treading the path of steadily wilting grass everyone takes to cut this particular corner and heading towards the fountain at the center of the park.
“How does it feel?”
“Pretty good,” Ed says. He swings it a little extra on the next step. “I like it.”
“I’m glad.”
Ed peers over at him, a devilish grin slowly spreading across his face. “You’re going to be needin’ one soon. I’ll get you one next year for your birthday, so we can match.”
“I beg your pardon.” Roy laces their arms together when Ed swaps which hand the cane is in. He’s mostly using it today to practice, to feel its weight and what it’s like to walk with it, so that when he really needs it, he’ll be ready. “Are you attempting to imply something about my age?”
“I’m not fuckin’ attempting anything, I’m doing.” He snickers. The setting sun lights up his hair in a glowing halo. Roy desperately wants to kiss him. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it has all the bells and whistles.”
Roy sighs feelingly, mostly to get a laugh out of Ed. “Thank you, sweetheart. You are eminently thoughtful.”
“As fucking usual.”
“As usual.”
The park is always popular in the evenings. A little girl being dragged along by her mother passes by them and she stares, wide eyed and covetously, at Ed’s cane as they go. Roy doesn’t blame her. It is a very pretty cane.
“Hey, Roy?”
“Yes?”
Ed hesitates, but not for long. “People are going to look at me differently now.”
“Nobody who matters.”
“Yeah, but it’s still… there. It’s out there, in a way my leg or even my arm never was. I’m used to people staring because of who I am, and I don’t give a shit about that, but this is…” He shakes the cane when the words won’t come.
“Different.”
“Different.” Ed tips his head over onto Roy’s shoulder for a moment. “It lets everyone know there’s something wrong with me, or at least makes them wonder what is.”
“First, there is something wrong with everyone,” Roy says. Ed snorts. He’s heard this argument before. “Second, there is nothing wrong with you needing help getting around.”
“But—”
“It’s not your fault, Ed.”
“It kind of is.”
“It’s not.”
They’ve reached the fountain. Ed releases Roy’s arm and tap-steps over to the edge to have a seat. Although he’s grown a fair amount since his heyday in the military, he’s still short enough that only his toes skim the ground. He lays the cane carefully across his lap and looks up at Roy.
“It is—literally—my fault, because I was the one who drew that damned array, and I was the one who dragged me ‘n’ Al into it. I joined the military before my ports had time to settle. I let people beat the shit out of me constantly. I was too fucking proud and too fucking stupid to just… stop… when I needed to. I didn’t give myself a chance to heal until it was too late, and now look at me.” He scowls as he gestures at himself, at the cane, at everything that makes him the man Roy loves. Roy’s heart aches over how much ugliness Ed sees in himself, and, not for the first time, wishes he could change it.
“All I see, Ed, is a beautiful, brilliant man in a very sharp outfit, who happens to have a good eye for accessories.” Ed scoffs, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward towards a smile all the same. “I see a man who respects himself. I see a man who takes care of himself so that he can then care for others, and go on all night research benders, and travel for weeks on end, and put up with a bastard like me.” Roy leans forward, cups Ed’s cheeks in both scarred hands, and kisses him softly. “And if you hate your cane after you’ve had a chance to test it out, we’ll try something else,” he murmurs against Ed’s mouth. He feels Ed sigh and nod, complacent for now as he only ever is when he’s placing his full trust in Roy. Roy cherishes it beyond measure. “Now, how about I take you out to dinner, gorgeous? You’re all dressed up, and I want to show you off.”
Ed grins, his eyes scrunching up almost shut because he doesn’t care how he looks when he’s smiling when he’s really happy. And he is—really happy.
“Deal. And I want dessert.”
“Then you shall have it.” Roy offers him a hand, same as he did earlier, same as he will every day until the day they die. This time, Ed takes it and stands, and he swings his new cane in a fancy little twirl before they set off again.