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Demon In the Design	By : antilogicgirl Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1597 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of the characters therein, nor do I derive any monetary profit from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: Okay. Now here's chapter 4. It's not exactly high on the action, but it did work out quite nicely. You'll get a taste of how annoyed Ed is, and hopefully you'll warm up to Roy the way I have. He really is trying to redeem himself. Oh. It amused me when someone called me on not understanding how cold some places are...Honestly, fifteen degrees Fahrenheit is pretty cold, seeing as how thirty-two degrees is the freezing point of water. Because really, I'm from the sub-tropics, and if we have fifteen-degree weather, people are walking around bundled up like there's a blizzard outside. Anyway, just chalk it up to me being from the Southern United States, and having never been around snow in great quantities. Read on, and have fun! Also, happy Turkey Day.
Warnings:
FL--Foul Language
S-ai--Mild Shounen-ai
Title: Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)
Series: Full Metal Alchemist
Pair: Roy/Ed
Begun: November 3, 2008
Complete:
Summary: Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.
IV: Decision
Roy Mustang felt a strange sensation that was, for the most part, quite rare for him. As he sat across the table from a man some years younger than himself, and not a few inches shorter, he felt a stab of fear in his guts. It must have been the way Edward’s eyes were pinning him where he sat; for once in his life, he knew there was nowhere to run, and certainly nowhere to hide. All he could do was sit there. And in fact, sitting was all they did for an agonizingly long moment. He waited for Edward to speak, but for what seemed like a week and a half, those thin lips remained closed in what looked like a pensive frown. When the younger man’s only move was to raise his glass once again, sipping the dark brown liquid that was quickly bringing normal coloration back to his face, Roy figured that it would be up to him to actually get the conversation rolling.
God help him.
But, whether it be the alcohol or the fact that his foot seemed to be permanently lodged in the back of his throat, he said, “You followed me, shrimp. I’m not going to start this thing going if you’re the one that wants to talk.”
Very suddenly, and with no warning at all, Roy felt something very sharp at his neck. Apparently, while he was distracted with his own verbal stupidity, Ed had clasped his hands around the glass that had come to rest on the table, his fingers touching. Now, the large snifter had transformed into a long, thin, razor-edged knife, which still held brandy in its core, oddly enough. Ed’s eyes were sharper than the improvised weapon, however. They flashed warning, even as he said in an almost sweet tone, “Keep talking, Roy. I dare you.”
For half a second, he was unsure as to the cause of this reaction. Was it because he insulted the younger alchemist’s stature, or the greater offense of pretending to have a terminal illness? Of course, he did eventually realize that it was both, but he didn’t apologize. After all, Edward was still no less than five inches shorter than he was, and there was no helping it. Not that he ever complained about a height difference. It made it so much easier for him to feel as if he had the upper hand with Ed, and it was very difficult to get one-up on him. That, and he’d already apologized numerous times for playing his former joke on Ed. Rather than taking back his words, or saying anything more along the same vein, he slowly raised his hands into a defensive posture and said, “Shutting up.”
Edward sucked a tooth, considering him for a moment before he changed his glass back to its original form. He sighed after taking another sip. “You really can’t stop pushing my buttons, can you?”
Roy waited less than half a second before replying with a question of his own. “If I answer, will you slit my throat?” Somehow, he sounded much more smart-assed than he had intended, but Ed didn’t move to kill him, so he took it as a positive sign.
Rather than transmuting anything, Ed merely shrugged. “You wouldn’t die, even if I killed you. I know the answer anyway.” This obviously meant that Roy couldn't stop poking fun at him if he tried. Ed sipped at his drink, and then appeared to think for a second before swallowing down the rest of it. Raising a hand at the bartender, Ed signaled for another. “I’ve been looking for you all morning.” One white-gloved hand pulled at his watch chain, and he checked the time. “And apparently into the afternoon, as well. You would go to the closest bar just to throw me off.”
Roy half-shrugged, sipping at his own drink. “It was the closest, yes. And it isn’t where I usually go. But I should have known that you’d find me eventually.” He watched Ed, trying to gauge his mood, and his reaction to this statement. There was little he could read in the expression that golden eyes held. The only thing he knew for sure was that whatever happened, he wasn’t going to get murdered for it. Shunned, perhaps, and most certainly humiliated, but not killed. He’d dealt with humiliation, and if he was shunned, he would deal with that, too. “So,” he went on, “I repeat—albeit in a hopefully less crude way—what is it that you want to talk about?”
Ed was becoming pleasantly warm inside. His body was slowly relaxing into the leather of the seat beneath him, and the chill that had seemed to go all the way to the bone was seeping out of him slowly. Roy seemed rather deflated, which was in a way satisfying, but also infuriating. Had he been his normal arrogant self, Ed would have had no problem drilling him with questions that he’d rehearsed in his mind. He could have pinned him to the booth with whatever was handy, forcing him to talk if necessary. But…
Roy just sat there, a little more than half-drunk, his uniform jacket unfastened and hair disheveled. Why does he have to look so pitiful? It was what he deserved, surely. But this reasoning by Ed’s already overtaxed brain was getting old. Yes, he deserved to feel stupid, even crappy for what he’d done. However, what Ed needed right now was honest information, and how likely was he to get that when Roy was in this kind of mood? The man would probably to tell him whatever he thought Ed wanted to hear, just to avoid being maimed.
No, he needed Roy to be his normal self, or at least some decent facsimile thereof. Either that, or he needed more alcohol. This was most likely to take a while, and he had little patience at the moment. Something in the back of his head told him that he shouldn’t expect his capacity for putting up with bullshit to increase with direct proportionality to his intake of brandy…
But then again, at the moment he didn’t really give a shit.
He only really had one question. Well, there were several, but it all just spawned from one thing. Since half-past ten in the morning, he’d been confused. Confusion turned to frustration when he found out Roy wasn’t in his office. Frustration became irritation when he wasn’t in the building. Irritation morphed into anger at the second he did not find him at his house. And anger became a slow-burning rage by the time he’d checked twelve bars, with ten more to go, traversing no less than fifty city blocks, and stoking the coals the entire way. Right now, he was pretty sure he should have steam coming out of his ears.
But it all damned-well fizzled out like a match dropped into a glass of water…all because of the way those God-forsaken eyes stared at him. They looked scared, and disappointed. Was he sad that he’d been found? Well, he had been hiding, but now that was simply a moot point. Maybe Ed’s question had a lot to do with why Roy had been hiding? There was only one way to find out.
“What did you mean when you said you miss having me around?” He let it out in a rush, feeling slightly breathless, as though he had been holding the question on the tip of his tongue for far too long. He probably had, at that. Surprise entered Roy’s eyes, and they widened for a moment before looking away from him completely. He waited a full minute before rapping on the table with his auto-mail hand. “Hey, General Bastard…you awake?”
For an instant, Roy seemed to freeze. For a moment, time itself seemed to slow. Because it seemed far too slowly that the man looked up at him again, all pretense falling away, whatever mask of impassivity that usually hung on his face now gone. Ed didn’t dare to breathe. This was something he had never—
Time started moving at its normal speed just a bit too suddenly for his taste. It was too soon after that look began that Roy answered him. “I meant just that. I miss…I like having you around. It’s…nice. Even if it was wrong—for the wrong reasons, I mean—even if it was wrong, it was nice to feel like you might not hate me. Even if it was fake.” Roy suddenly coughed, his voice having started to go gravelly with emotion. Ed still wasn’t breathing. How could he, after something like this? He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to draw in another lung-full of air again if Roy said things like that, looking at him the way he was.
But, his mind supplied, It wasn’t fake. He wondered what it was that he was thinking. Of course the situation had been faked. Roy was lying through his teeth, the whole day. Nothing he had said was true, up until the point when he’d confessed about his ‘illness’. No. You weren’t lying. You didn’t hate him, did you? Shit. Now he felt stupid. Did he ever truly hate Roy? No…
Ed could admit to himself that while he had disliked Roy thoroughly, he had never shown himself to be worthy of real hatred. He was a self-serving, egotistical, megalomaniacal, cold bastard, but he wasn’t a horrible person, not deep down. Everything he did served some greater purpose. Ed learned of these things after the fact, but all of his scheming to get into the Presidency was not so that he could make Lieutenant Hawkeye and the rest of the ladies in the military change their uniforms to include mini-skirts. He had wanted to change Amestris from the top down.
Of course, his strategies often left people like Edward feeling used and abused, so he had allowed himself to believe he’d hated him. So, Ed was now so confused that he didn’t know which way was up.
A hand grasped his shoulder, shaking him hard, and he gasped. The air felt so good that he nearly fell from his seat. “Ed, are you okay?” He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts as his eyes re-focused. Roy was still holding his shoulder from across the table, looking very concerned. “You just kind of spaced out there for a minute, Ed. And you stopped breathing.” Roy was frowning, now.
Ed shook him off just as the bartender delivered his second drink. When the man had gone, he went over the list of questions that sprouted off of the first one. Half of them were now stricken from the list, which was good in a way, but now more were cropping up. Such as, “Then what the hell does this mean?”
Roy felt like ice had developed in his stomach. What did it mean…
What did it mean that he didn’t want this man to hate him?
What did it mean that he missed the attention he got, even if it was at the end of a fist?
What did it ever mean?
Well, it could mean several things. Roy Mustang hoped that once he had sorted those things out in his head, he could give Ed a satisfactory answer. But for now, he just said in a quiet voice, “It means…It means I don’t see you as a pissy brat. That I want to know all of the different sides of you I don’t get to see. I want to see something other than anger in your eyes when you look at me, Ed.” That was most of the things it meant, but not all. He couldn’t make himself say the other ones out loud. The ones he’d let out were embarrassing enough.
Ed was holding his glass tightly now. His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth had fallen open. Was it really so surprising? A vision of himself as a small boy suddenly appeared in his mind. He had been seven years old. There was a girl in his second-grade class that had these eyes…they were like a dark, shaded pond in the forest. Deep green and bottomless. He had tormented her until she had cried. Why on earth was he thinking of this now of all times? The burning feeling from before was back, suffusing his face and this time, his ears as well.
It took a very deep breath for him to steady his mind. He put all of the contrition he could into his voice as he said, “Truce?”
There was a long silence, during which Edward watched him. He couldn’t tell how the younger man was taking it, really. It was as if what he’d said hadn’t started to sink in yet. Then, after about fifteen seconds, Ed lifted his glass to his lips and took a long sip. After setting it down carefully, he took a deep breath. “You…” he began, but trailed off, “You mean you…you like me?” Ed gave a small frown at his words, seeming to realize how infantile he sounded. Roy’s mouth curved upward into a tiny smile. It was slightly amusing how when it really mattered, Ed had difficulty in expressing himself.
He leaned on one of his elbows, pushing his glass away and resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve never disliked you, if that’s what you mean.”
One shake of Ed’s head sent blonde hair tumbling into his eyes and over his shoulders. The image struck Roy as something he’d like to remember. It was ruined, however, when Ed developed a familiar furrow between his eyebrows. He was becoming annoyed. “That’s not what I meant, Roy. Why can’t you give me a straight answer?”
Roy sighed. “What do you want me to say, Ed?” Now he was getting exasperated, too, because he didn’t know what Ed wanted from him.
“I want you to tell me the truth,” he said irritably, “because there’s something you aren’t saying.” For once, Roy cursed the way Ed could be so damned perceptive at times. If he told him what he had been holding back, then he was probably going to get smacked. Worst case scenario, Ed would smack him upside the head and laugh at him. Or he’d just leave. Either one would be bad. So Roy was faced with another choice. Should he say out loud things that he never thought he would, risk getting beaten down, and possibly scorned in a public place? One look into Ed’s eyes told him that this would be a lose-lose situation for him.
If he didn’t talk, he’d get smacked. If he did talk, he’d probably get smacked anyway. So, in essence, he realized that he didn’t have anything left to lose. “No, I never disliked you, Ed. I thought you were cheeky and in need of discipline when we met eight years ago, but beyond that, I’ve always had a great amount of respect for you.” Ed opened his mouth, but Roy raised his bad hand in a silencing motion. “Drink your brandy, Edward. You wanted me to tell the truth, and now I am. Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” Ed’s voice was almost sullen, and Roy could detect something of a pouting projection in the bottom lip there. He was very glad he’d stopped drinking. It was, in his somewhat inebriated state, rather cute.
Nodding, Roy continued. “I thought you were hell-bent on making my life as miserable as you could, so I set out to return the favor. That’s what it seemed like to me. But after a while, it got really boring when you’d go away. I’d gotten used to when you’d storm the office with some tantrum or another. And don’t look at me like that, Ed. You’ve always had an awful temper.” Now, he leaned on both elbows, his hands flat on the tabletop. His eyes were fastened firmly to the hangnail on his left index finger. “So I guess I liked the attention. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment or something. I don’t know.”
Ed wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. It wasn’t said in so many words, but he was pretty sure that his commanding officer had just told him that he…but was that really what it was? “So,” Ed said slowly after a few seconds, “So you…this interest you have…would you say that it’s platonic?” Roy still wasn’t looking at him, the consternation on his fair features only growing more profound, even as his face reddened. Then there was the way he’d been looking at him a few minutes ago. It all added up to one thing. “Okay…so, not so platonic.”
The primary question now was, what to do? Ed didn’t know how he felt about Roy having a romantic interest in him. He himself had never really thought about it. Never having time for a girlfriend—or a boyfriend, for that matter—Ed had given little effort to pondering his own need for companionship. Most of his time was taken up with his work, and the rest was swallowed up with…more work. So what to do…
“Ed,” Roy said in a very tight, uncomfortable-sounding voice, “if you don’t say something soon, I’m probably going to have to leave.” He was huddled in on himself now, the fingers of his good hand twined in shaggy, dark hair so tightly that Ed was sure that it was painful. It was as if he were bracing himself for sudden violence. Something in that posture made Ed panic. What in the hell was going on in Roy’s head right now?
Why didn’t Ed just say it? It would at least bring an end to this. For a week, he’d just been trying to get through having Ed in his presence until the younger man’s office was repaired. But after that time, he spent every moment that he wasn’t signing papers trying to come up with ways to make Ed stop hating him. At first, he thought it was just because he was starved for attention. But that wasn’t true. He had friends in his subordinates, even if their friendship did seem like an obligation at times. With Edward Elric, however, any friendship that might develop would be real, and completely unforced. He’d known that. But it hadn’t happened, so he settled for bugging the hell out of him.
Something that Riza said was actually what caused him to realize what his behavior had been. She said that he was acting like the boys in the schoolyard who had pulled her hair as a child, because they could not figure out how to tell her that they admired her. Now that he looked back, he wanted to beat his head against the table. He felt so…stupid. His stomach started to twist, feeling hot and cold at the same time. He had felt something like this before, after stepping off of a carnival ride when he was twelve.
Discretion being the better part of valor, and since Edward seemed not inclined to answer him any time soon, he stood shakily, intent upon beating a tactical retreat. Without another word, he took up his coat and shrugged it on. He couldn’t take this. Not today. That feeling in his stomach only got worse the closer to the door he was, but he ignored it. Roy simply did not want to look at Ed right now. Not with the way he knew the younger man was thinking.
Ed blinked. Roy just got up and started walking toward the door. Honestly, he’d been trying to think of what to say, but nothing would come. Now he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he go after him? Then, he realized that Roy had driven here, and Ed shot up from his seat. He couldn’t let Roy get behind the wheel of a car while he was drunk. The bartender called after him about Roy’s tab, but he told the man to take it out of the money he’d already given him. The next thing he knew, he was in the street, looking around for Roy. Luckily, he found him with relative ease. He was searching for his keys in the pockets of his coat. Ed approached him with a brisk stride.
“Roy,” he said firmly, “Give me your keys.” The taller man froze at the sound of his voice, and then turned his face to look at Ed. Dark eyes looked stricken, and Ed was surprised to find that it was difficult to keep his gaze as determined as usual. Though Roy did not move to hand Ed the keys, he did not try to leave, either. Ed repeated himself. “Give me your keys, Roy.”
“Where’s your coat?” Roy asked suddenly, his eyes straying to Ed’s shoulders.
Ed’s brain hurt with the abrupt randomness of the question, but it only took half a second to get back on track. “I don’t give a damn where my coat is. Gimme your keys, you drunk son of a bitch.” Hurt flashed in Roy’s eyes at the insult, and he was almost sure that there was wetness on his eyelashes. “Oh, hell…” Ed didn’t know why he was doing this, but he stepped closer, and put a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean that.” He sighed and tried to explain. “You’re just so frustrating…but I don’t want you to drive home like you are. It’s dangerous.” Roy nodded morosely, and finished rifling through his pockets. Ed took the keys when they were offered, and unlocked the door to the passenger side first. When Roy was safely inside and strapped in, Ed slid in on the driver’s side. “Try to relax.”
That was more for his benefit than for Roy’s. It had been more than a year since he had occasion to drive a car, and it took a few moments to remember everything necessary to perform the task. He drove slowly, avoiding main thoroughfares since he’d been drinking as well, but they eventually got to Roy’s house. Once in the drive, Ed pulled up to the house and let himself out of the car. Roy got out as well, and they both walked to the door of the house. Ed unlocked the place, turned on the lights, and watched Roy as he entered. “Okay. Now you’re home safe. I’m going.” Only he didn’t. Ed stood there, seemingly unable to move under the watchful eyes not so far away.
He felt uncomfortable. This was weird. Roy was standing in the front entry hall of his house, staring at Ed like he’d never seen him before. Or was it like he’d never see him again? Either way, Ed felt his face start turning red. His feet began to shift as he stood in front of the open door, and he suddenly realized that he shouldn’t have left his coat in the bar. It was freezing outside. Roy did not say anything. Ed continued to fidget.
“Close the door,” Roy finally said, before he turned and walked deeper into the house. Ed was surprised to find himself doing as he was told. He supposed that he could have Roy drop him off at home when he sobered up. In the mean time, he could make sure Roy actually did sober up, and maybe set him straight on a few things. He followed an apparently depressed Roy into the kitchen, where he watched the other man root through the refrigerator. Several items ended up on the counter, among them sliced deli meat, half of a purple onion, and some hot mustard. “Are you hungry, Ed?”
It was difficult to deny that he was hungry, so he didn’t even try. A silence settled over them, broken only by Roy’s movements around the room as he opened a can of tomato soup, and began heating it on the stove. Ed felt odd. Why was he still here? He told himself it was because he needed a ride home, but that sounded lame, even to him. If he were pressed, he could have taken a taxi. But he hadn’t. And that mystery began turning over in his mind with a deadly regularity that was just a little frightening.
Twenty minutes later, they were seated at the little kitchen table. Two bowls of soup, a ham sandwich each, and a couple of steaming mugs of tea filled the space with delicious smells. For a moment, he looked at Roy, who had not spared him a glance since they got into the kitchen. “Thank you.” He said simply, taking up his cup. Roy said nothing.
When his sandwich was gone, as well as half of his soup, he rose to make more tea. Roy seemed absorbed in his soup, but had not eaten more than a few bites. The tea in his cup had grown cold, as well, barely touched. Ed wanted to roll his eyes. Was he a grown man, or a lovesick schoolgirl? With a minimal sigh, he gathered the older man’s cup along with his own, and went to the stove. As he took up the kettle, he began to speak. “You didn’t let me answer you,” Ed walked over to the sink, adding water from the tap through the spout. Though he did not turn around, he knew that Roy was watching him now.
The kettle was on the stove and heating up before he continued. “I wasn’t going to toss you out on your ass, you know.” Ed rested his elbows on the island in the middle of the kitchen, peering across the room at Roy. There was a rather dumbfounded look on his face which Ed found to be somewhat funny, but oddly endearing. “While I was tooling around the city looking for you,” he sent a momentarily sharp look at Roy at this, “I was highly annoyed. There were any number of things I could have been doing, other than freezing the family jewels looking for your dumb ass. Of course I was pissed off. But there was this little nagging voice in the back of my head that told me I wouldn’t be able to do any of those important things until I figured out what the hell you meant by saying you ‘miss’ having me around.”
Roy’s face retained that same look of confusion for a few moments, so Ed took the opportunity to plow right on before the older man found his brain again and started talking out of his ass. “So I find you, in the last place I would have thought of to look. And just when I think things are getting sorted out, you up and walk out. I wasn’t going to just leave you hanging; at least I didn’t mean to. You just can’t expect me to respond immediately when you drop a bomb like that in my lap.” He got precious little reaction for this statement, since it probably seemed like an accusation.
Now he was starting to feel awkward, because it was coming to the meat of the issue, and Ed wasn’t sure he was all too prepared to deal with it himself. He decided to suck it up, though, and went on. “And then there’s the history we’ve got. It’s hard, thinking of you in any kind of…romantic context.” He could feel his face getting red again, and his mouth felt dry. Swallowing did no good, so he cleared his throat. “So...what I have to say isn’t entirely bad.” Ed’s eyes caught the way Roy relaxed very slightly, and that small light of hope that entered his expression. Now this was what could be called a crossroads. Ed was entirely capable of crushing that hope. And it would only take a laugh. One laugh, and he could walk out of the house.
He could do it. He knew he could. Ed could even see in his mind the way Roy would crumble in on himself. All of the strength would go out of him, and he’d slump in his chair. His face would fall, eyes becoming dull. But…something Roy had said a few weeks ago made him stop. Just because I can, Ed thought, it doesn’t mean I will. While he was entirely capable of killing this man’s spirit, Ed was not willing to do so. It was something he wouldn’t do. Not ever. Roy was something constant in his life, and had been for the past eight years. There were few things that he could count on the way he could on Roy’s smirk and sarcasm. Annoyance and all, he needed that constancy. He smiled a little, slightly unsure of what he was about to say. “It seems really strange to think of the two of us together, especially given…recent events, don’t you agree?”
A very slight nod was the only answer he got, but it was good enough.
“So how about this: we get to know each other a bit better—as friends—and see where things go from there.” There was a slow dawning on Roy’s face now, something very different than anything he’d ever seen there before. His forehead relaxed, and the corners of his mouth drew up in an easy upward curve. It was a smile that went all the way up to very dark eyes, lending Roy a boyish look. Ed wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him look so content. It was a nice smile, Ed thought, but it all went to Hell when a familiar sly grin spread Roy’s lips even further.
“Does this mean I’m out of the doghouse?”
Ed could not help himself. His head dropped, smacking loudly against the granite countertop. When he spoke next, his voice was muffled by his arms, which were now covering his head. “Can it, Roy. I’m not in the mood.” Roy said something in reply, but it was swallowed by the whistle of the kettle on the stove. Instead of asking what the Hell the man was talking about, Ed set about making them more tea. “I don’t suppose that you’ll stop being an exasperating bastard now, will you?”
He didn’t even have to look to know that Roy was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Now, Edward,” he heard from the vicinity of the table, “what fun would that be?”
A/N: Review.
A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.
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Demon In the Design