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Edward Elric knew something was wrong when Colonel Mustang gave him flowers.
Not metaphorical flowers.
Not some sarcastic comment about flowers.
Actual flowers.
Edward stood in the doorway of Roy’s office and stared at the small bouquet sitting on the edge of the desk.
Yellow roses.
Fresh ones.
Wrapped neatly in brown paper.
Edward pointed at them.
“What are those?”
Roy looked up from his paperwork.
“Flowers.”
“I can see that.”
“Then why did you ask?”
Edward narrowed his eyes.
“For who?”
Roy’s expression remained perfectly calm.
“You.”
Edward stared at him.
Then at the flowers.
Then back at Roy.
“No.”
Roy blinked.
“No?”
“No.”
“An interesting response to receiving a gift.”
“I don’t trust it.”
Roy leaned back in his chair.
“They’re flowers, Fullmetal.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not sure what you think flowers are capable of.”
“You gave them to me.”
“Yes.”
“That means they’re suspicious.”
Roy sighed.
“Take the flowers, Edward.”
Edward crossed his arms.
“Why?”
Roy looked at him for a moment.
Then his expression softened.
“Because I saw them this morning and thought you might like them.”
Edward’s brain stopped.
Entirely.
For several long seconds, he could hear nothing except the ticking clock on the office wall.
Then he grabbed the bouquet.
“Fine.”
Roy smiled.
Edward immediately hated how warm his face felt.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that!”
Roy’s smile widened.
Edward stormed out.
The flowers went into a vase in his room.
Not because he liked them.
Obviously.
They just needed water.
That was all.
⸻
The second incident occurred three days later.
Edward returned from a mission to find a small paper bag waiting on his desk.
Inside were two fresh pastries from the bakery near Central Station.
His favorite ones.
Edward stared at them.
Then slowly turned toward Alphonse.
“Did you buy these?”
Al looked up from his book.
“No.”
Edward frowned.
“Winry?”
“She’s in Rush Valley.”
“Hughes?”
“Brother.”
“What?”
Al pointed at the little folded card inside the bag.
Edward pulled it out.
You skipped lunch yesterday. Try not to make a habit of it.
— R.M.
Edward felt his eye twitch.
“No.”
Alphonse tilted his head.
“No what?”
“This is weird.”
“It seems nice.”
“It’s Mustang.”
“Yes.”
“Mustang isn’t nice.”
Al was silent for several seconds.
Then, very carefully, he said, “Brother, I think Colonel Mustang is courting you.”
Edward nearly inhaled a pastry.
“He is WHAT?”
“Courting you.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Why?”
“Because that’s ridiculous!”
Al glanced at the flowers still sitting on Edward’s windowsill.
Then at the pastries.
Then back at Edward.
“Is it?”
“Yes!”
“He’s brought you flowers.”
“So?”
“And food.”
“So?”
“And yesterday he sent someone to return your library books because you were busy.”
Edward paused.
“That was him?”
“Yes.”
“…Huh.”
“And he walked you home in the rain last week.”
“He had an umbrella!”
“He lives in the opposite direction.”
Edward froze.
Al said nothing.
Edward slowly looked away.
“Coincidence.”
“Of course.”
“Stop sounding like Hawkeye.”
⸻
By the end of the month, it had become impossible to ignore.
Roy brought him coffee exactly the way Edward liked it.
Roy saved newspaper clippings about alchemical research he thought Edward might find interesting.
Roy invited him to dinner.
Not military dinners.
Not work dinners.
Actual dinners.
The kind involving restaurants with candles on the tables.
Edward had spent the entirety of the first one suspiciously waiting for Roy to reveal some hidden motive.
Roy had simply asked about his research.
And listened.
Really listened.
Edward hadn’t known what to do with that.
It was worse than flirting.
Flirting he could fight.
Flirting could be insulted.
Flirting could be yelled at.
But Roy remembering the title of the book Edward had mentioned two weeks ago?
Roy buying him a replacement leather strap for his automail case because the old one had started fraying?
Roy standing when Edward entered the room?
That was unbearable.
The breaking point came when Edward arrived at headquarters one morning and found Roy waiting outside his office.
“You need something?” Edward asked.
Roy smiled.
“Good morning to you too.”
Edward grunted.
Roy held out a small rectangular box.
Edward stared at it.
“No.”
“We’ve been through this before.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
Edward took the box cautiously.
Inside was a fountain pen.
Dark red lacquer.
Gold trim.
Beautiful.
Edward’s breath caught.
He had admired one nearly identical to it in a shop window weeks ago.
He had never mentioned it.
At least—
He didn’t think he had.
“Mustang.”
“Hm?”
“You bought me a pen.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Roy’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
The smugness vanished.
The teasing softened.
And suddenly Edward felt very aware of the fact that they were alone in the hallway.
“Because you wanted it.”
Edward swallowed.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Roy was quiet for a moment.
Then he stepped a little closer.
“Edward.”
Something in the way he said his name made Edward’s heart trip over itself.
“I have been courting you for four weeks.”
Edward’s face went blank.
Roy continued.
“Flowers. Meals. Gifts. Walks. Invitations.”
Edward stared.
Roy’s eyebrows lifted.
“You genuinely didn’t know.”
Edward’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
“I thought you were being weird!”
Roy covered his face with one hand.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“You are weird!”
“I’m trying to romance you!”
“Well, you could’ve said something!”
“That rather defeats the purpose of courting someone.”
“Not when the person you’re courting doesn’t know they’re being courted!”
Roy lowered his hand.
For one horrible second, Edward thought he might laugh.
Instead, Roy looked nervous.
Roy Mustang.
Nervous.
Edward had seen Roy face enemy soldiers with more confidence.
“If you object,” Roy said quietly, “I can stop.”
That silenced Edward immediately.
Roy looked away.
“I had hoped my intentions were obvious, but I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
Edward looked down at the pen in his hands.
Then at Roy.
He thought about the flowers.
The pastries.
The coffee.
The dinners.
The umbrella.
The way Roy always seemed to find him after long missions.
The way his voice softened whenever Edward looked tired.
And suddenly, terribly, everything made sense.
Edward’s chest felt too full.
“You idiot.”
Roy blinked.
Edward stepped forward.
“You absolute idiot.”
“Edward—”
“I didn’t say stop.”
Roy went still.
Edward could feel himself turning red.
He hated this.
He hated feelings.
He hated Roy’s stupid face.
He hated the tiny hopeful look appearing in Roy’s eyes.
“So,” Roy said carefully, “you would like me to continue?”
Edward scowled.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t push it.”
Roy smiled.
“There are certain rules to proper courtship.”
“Oh, are there?”
“Yes.”
“Did you make them up?”
“Some.”
“I knew it.”
Roy stepped closer.
“Traditionally, however, there is one particular step I have been waiting to take.”
Edward swallowed.
“What step?”
Roy looked at his mouth.
Edward’s heart stopped.
“Oh.”
“May I?”
Edward’s face burned.
“You are unbelievably annoying.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I didn’t say—”
Roy kissed him.
Softly.
Gently.
Nothing like Edward expected.
There was no smugness in it.
No teasing.
Just warmth.
Careful and sweet and patient enough that Edward forgot, for several seconds, that he was supposed to be embarrassed.
When Roy pulled back, Edward was still clutching the pen between them.
Roy smiled.
“Good morning.”
Edward stared at him.
Then grabbed the front of his uniform.
“Again.”
Roy blinked.
Edward’s blush deepened.
“You heard me.”
Roy’s smile became unbearably fond.
“Certainly.”
The second kiss lasted longer.
And when Riza Hawkeye walked around the corner a moment later, she took one look at them, nodded to herself, and quietly turned around.
At lunch, Alphonse received a very short note.
You were right.
Don’t say anything.
Al smiled.
Then wrote underneath it:
I’m glad the courtship is going well.
Edward did not speak to him for twenty minutes.