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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N: Hm. I only got lukewarm response for that last chapter. Am I right in assuming that you all liked it better when Ed hated Roy? When we all thought that the General was the most horrible, evil, malicious creep to ever crawl from the deep, dark pits of Hell? Aw, come on. Roy's a good guy. And I'll prove it in this chapter. Once you're done reading, please look at the bottom note, as I have some more info there on the last chapter, which should be coming in a few days. Enjoy.
Warnings:
FL--Foul Language
S-ai--Shounen-ai
Y--Barely Yaoi
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.
V: Destination
Roy Mustang was a selfish man. He was not above the use of mendacity. And at this point, he was ready to use every dirty trick in his formidable arsenal to achieve his goal. It had been three months since they had come to their agreement of friendship. They had eaten lunch together every day at work, and Roy had come to visit him a few times at home. While it was unclear how the younger of the Elric brothers felt about having him in the apartment after the debacle the previous year, he made no more threats. That was one less obstacle for him, but it was not to say that there were none. He had been more than patient; the embodiment of understanding. But there was still one rather large obstruction…
Edward sat across from him now, leaning back in his chair in a leisurely manner, the glass of brandy looking quite at home in his hand. Over the past month or so, this had been their nightly ritual. After they were done at Headquarters, they would meet at Roy’s usual bar for a drink before going home. Every now and again, Alphonse would join them, but he never drank. It was his opinion that Al was just a little too tightly wound, and maybe a drink would do him good. There were a couple of other people he could name that might be able to use one, too. Al was highly protective of his older brother, and Roy knew the kid was smarter than he let anyone believe. That meant that Al knew precisely what Roy was up to. The question was, how come he had not done anything to stop it?
He watched as Ed rolled his shoulders, his white dress shirt moving and stretching over wiry muscles. Ed’s head fell back, exposing his throat along with a bit of skin on his chest, since his shirt was undone by two buttons. Roy had to look away. “It’s going to rain,” he heard Ed say suddenly. His voice sounded tight, as if he were uncomfortable. And he supposed he might be, since Ed’s shoulder always seemed to get sore when the weather changed. He looked at Ed again, and noticed that his glass was empty. There was a pinched look to the corners of his eyes, as well.
One glance out of the window told him that Ed was more than correct. Those clouds told of rain, and probably some hail, as well. “Well,” Roy said, pushing his chair back from the table, “let’s go home. I’ll take you.” He picked up his glass, emptying it. The Bourbon’s pleasant sting traced down his throat. Ed nodded his agreement, saying that he’d rather not get caught in a hailstorm. They were nearly to the door when it started to come down, pea-sized and bouncing all over the cold ground. Ed’s footsteps stopped behind him, and Roy looked over his shoulder. “You all right, Ed?”
The younger man’s eyes widened slightly and he stood stock still. “Shit!” Ed cursed, not quite under his breath, He looked up at Roy with a very helpless expression. “It’s Al’s birthday.”
Roy was surprised. “You forgot your brother’s birthday?” He had not thought that such a thing was possible. However, the wheels in his head were beginning to turn, and he smiled, trying not to let it seem as devious as it really was. The aforementioned propensity for deception reared its delightful head again, giving him the most brilliant idea he had conceived in some time. This was going to be fun. “Don’t worry, Ed.” He grabbed the younger man by the wrist, walking out of the bar and then ran to the car. When he’d shoved the both of them in, he started the engine. “I think I might be able to save your ass.”
Al sighed. So much for having a happy birthday. It was nearly eight in the evening, and his brother still was not home. For that matter, Ed had not even wished him a happy birthday. He scratched his cheek a little, relieving a small itch. The apartment was always so quiet when Ed wasn’t home, and while he usually welcomed the stillness, it was only a reminder now of the fact that he was alone. He got up from the couch and went into his small bedroom to put on more comfortable clothing. On second thought, he would take a shower. It usually made him feel better.
First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye could hardly believe that she was doing this. She stood in front of the apartment building for a long moment, looking up at the sixth floor. Al was up there, probably moping. But he wouldn’t be moping soon. In less than ten minutes, Alphonse would be wondering what was going on, and she was under orders not to tell him. She supposed it came with having an immature idiot for a commanding officer. Of all of Roy's hair-brained schemes, this one took the cake. Letting out a long breath, Riza entered the front doors.
“It’s for his birthday,” Roy had said, but Riza could tell there was something else. When she had asked, he had pretended not to know what she was talking about. That was all right, because she would find out soon enough, and then she could decide what she would do to him. The lobby was small, but tidy, and she had to step up to get onto the main floor. One hand went to her skirt, pulling a bit to make sure it did not get in the way.
Al sighed. The shower had helped quite a bit. He now stood in the middle of the bathroom, a towel snugly wrapped around his waist, and another over his head. Steam that smelled of lemons and lavender floated in vague ribbons around the room, and he inhaled deeply. He knew it was a sedative in the lavender that had calmed him, and the lemon that had cheered him slightly. The soap had been a gift from Winry on her last visit, because she said that she could not come for his birthday. She also told him that he looked stressed out.
Well, he supposed that it went with the territory. There were too many things to worry about. Especially when he thought of the General. He never could figure the man out, no matter how hard he tried. Roy had done something very mean to his brother, and Al had yet to forgive him. The strange thing was that Ed had. They were friends, it seemed. Al felt left out when the two of them started laughing at an apparent ‘you had to be there’ type of joke. And it was becoming glaringly obvious that Roy wanted something more than friendship from his brother, if the looks he had seen the General giving Ed were any indication.
How did he feel about that? The answer to that question was rather simple, he thought as he started drying his hair with the towel. I don’t like it. Not at all.
His thoughts were interrupted when there was a sudden knock on the door. It couldn’t be his brother, since he had a key and would not have to knock. Maybe it was Roy. Al’s eyes narrowed. He tossed the towel he’d been using on his hair to the floor, running a hand through his hair as he made his way toward the living room. It had been a while since he’d had the chance to have a chat with Roy, and he was ready to give the man a piece of his mind. And maybe a bit of my fist…His feet slapped on the wood of the floor, and he realized he was stomping. Mrs. Gibson downstairs was going to start banging on the ceiling soon, but he didn’t care. He was angry.
When he got to the door, he threw the deadbolt and the chain before nearly ripping the door from its hinges, sending a hateful glare at the—
“Alphonse…”
He blinked several times, confused as to why Roy was so much shorter than he was supposed to be. Then, he took in blonde hair, light brown eyes, and as his eyes traveled downward…Al’s brain caught up just in time so that he did not blatantly stare at Riza’s breasts. She was wearing street clothes. Al registered a brown leather jacket and a dark blue skirt before he managed to speak. “Lieutenant!” he said in a tone that was very un-manly indeed, “What are you doing here?”
Riza averted her eyes discreetly from his near-naked state, and replied, “If I may suggest you dress yourself?”
Al looked down at himself. Instantly, his face flamed red. “Sorry!” he said hurriedly, “Come in and sit down. I’ll put on some clothes…hehe.”
He stood there for a long moment before he actually moved aside. Riza walked past him into the apartment, and seated herself on the couch. Al closed the door behind her and walked quickly—albeit rather stiffly—into the back of the apartment. She watched as his back disappeared around the corner of the hallway, then shook her head. That look before…what was it for? He seemed surprised to see her, yet he’d been angry. It might be that he had thought the General was at the door, which would make sense now that she knew what Roy had done.
Moments later, Al emerged from the back, clad in dark green corduroy pants and a pale blue button-down shirt. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down in a chair opposite Riza, but finally did so. “Sorry about that,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Alphonse. But I’ve been sent to get you. Put on some shoes and grab your coat.”
Al stared at her for a long moment, confused and utterly dumbfounded. “Why? Where are we going?”
With a very serious expression, Riza stood and said in a no-nonsense tone, “I am not at liberty to say.” He did as he was told, now seeming to grow more concerned by the moment. If she knew Al at all—and she did—he was thinking that there was something drastically wrong with Edward, or that they had all got tangled up in some scheme or another. In a way, they had. Riza had heard that devious, calculating tone in Roy’s voice when he’d called her.
“Fuery, are you done with the icing yet?”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Good. Now go and put the cake on the coffee table and stand by. Falman, how is the punch coming?”
“Well spiked, Sir.”
“Excellent. Breda!”
“Sir?”
“Where are the gifts set up?”
“Behind the couch, Sir.”
“Make sure that everyone has contributed to this thing. We don’t want Alphonse to feel like he’s been forgotten. Where the hell is Havoc?!”
“Keeping watch at the windows, Sir. Just like you told me.”
“Ed, how’re the decorations?”
Roy came out of the pantry carrying armloads of snack food just then, and found everything in readiness. Ed was just putting the finishing touches on the decorations. He’d supplied the younger man with six reams of copier paper in various colors, and was currently hanging paper chains, ornaments, and banners proclaiming Alphonse’s birthday. There were bags of confetti on the table, as well, which would be dumped over Al’s head and sprayed all over the room. The best of Ed’s creations, however, was one for which Roy had brought in a pan of water and half a bag of flour. It was a rather faithful likeness of Al, obviously the way Ed thought of him.
The paper and paste Al statue was just a little taller than Ed was himself, and had the teenager’s shaggy hair. He’d made sure to dress the statue in a way that Al might, as well. The face of the paper Al was set in a wide smile, with very kind eyes. Roy smiled at it for a moment before turning his attention to where Ed was perched on the ladder. The string of green false lanterns was slipping out of the young man’s fingers, and he couldn’t quite reach the corner where he wanted to secure it. “Edward,” he said as he set down the snacks, “Do you need help?”
Ed got a firm hold on the string once again, and cast a sharp glare at him over one shoulder. “No,” he snapped, before stretching up onto tiptoe, causing the ladder to tremble. He affixed the string to the ceiling using a simple bit of alchemy, only re-forming a tiny bit of plaster into a hook from which he could hang it. “I’m a big boy now, Roy.” He started climbing down the ladder, and Roy took a quick look around before going back to watching his subordinate. Ed was the only person still in uniform, but he’d long since discarded his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. Roy could see that Edward was a big boy. He’d grown quite a bit, after all. It was just when he sounded so sullen like that, it made Roy remember him when he was twelve. In a way it made him feel like a dirty old man for looking at Ed the way he was.
“Sir! A car is pulling into the drive!” Havoc yelled from over near the front windows, and for close to ten seconds, the living room was like an anthill. People ran this way and that, Breda yanking Ed off of the ladder and tossing him onto the couch, Ed yelling indignantly, and then settling down when the large man folded the ladder and went to put it in the kitchen. Fuery scurried over to the record player, readying the party music as others got into position. There was a knock at the door, and Roy walked to answer it. When the dark walnut panel swung inward, he saw a mildly annoyed Riza Hawkeye standing behind Al, who looked as if the sky had suddenly turned neon pink and there seemed no way to fix it.
“Come in, Alphonse,” he said smoothly, stepping aside to let the guest of honor into the entry hall. “Just go on into the living room, please. I need a word with Riza before we…proceed.” The boy looked confused, and not a little frightened as he walked past him. Riza looked like she wanted to smack him. He just shrugged and followed Al silently.
As Alphonse rounded the corner into the living room, shouts of “Surprise!” and “Happy Birthday!” rang out, surely startling the birthday boy. All of his subordinates, along with some of the junior alchemists and a few enlisted men that Al had become acquainted with were standing in the living room, along with Ed. It seemed that he was a bit overwhelmed. Roy pushed Al further into the room, where Edward was waiting with his larger-than-life sized statue and a mound of presents. “Come on, Alphonse,” he said as he pushed, “we’re having a party.”
Ed watched as Al sat down on the couch. He looked around at everyone with a stunned expression, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. The candles on the cake before him flared to life, and Ed looked up, only to see Roy taking off his gloves. “It has practical uses,” he explained shortly, before making a motion toward Al. The younger Elric looked at the flames, a soft sort of smile settling over his face. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and blew out the candles.
After a few rounds of congratulations, Falman started doling out punch, and Shezka cut the cake. Al, of course, got the first piece. The face Al made when he tasted the punch was funny. His nose scrunched up, and the corners of his mouth turned down as he forced himself to swallow. “This has…vodka in it!”
Havoc clapped Al on the back and said jovially, “It’s your birthday, kiddo. Live a little.” After a few minutes of sipping tentatively at the red liquid in his clear plastic cup, Al apparently didn’t find it to be too offensive. He took bites of cake, and talked with all of the other guests. Then, someone decided that it was time to dump the confetti Ed made…well, everywhere. When the whirlwind of tiny paper pieces settled, it looked as if everyone had gone out into a blizzard.
Al got up from the couch to get himself another cup of punch, since the one he had was filled with soggy confetti, and Roy took his place on the couch next to Ed, looking rather pleased with himself. His eyes followed Al across the room, and he smiled. “Looks like a success,” he said, almost as if to himself. Ed thought it might be a peace offering, since Al had been a little less than receptive to the idea of Roy being friendly with him. Not that Ed could blame him. If someone had done to Al what Roy had to Ed, he’d have done a lot worse than threaten them.
But Ed had come to terms with Roy’s personality, and as he watched him looking around at their handiwork, he couldn’t help but feel glad that they had sorted things out. If they had still not been on good terms, he would not have had Roy to thank for getting his ass out of a sling where Al was concerned. Speaking of which, he hadn’t actually done that yet. “Thanks, Roy,” Ed said, truly grateful. “Al would never have let me live it down if I’d completely forgotten his birthday.” The older man only waved it off, saying that he didn’t mind, so long as Ed cleaned up all of the confetti and the rest of the mess. For a second or two, Ed wanted to yell at him and smack him on the head for suggesting that he do it all by himself, but then again, Roy had done him a big favor setting up the party in the first place. Grudgingly, he said, “Fine. But it’s gonna take forever with just me cleaning, just so you know.”
Roy looked as if he were trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry, Ed. If you collapse from exhaustion, there’s a guest room you can sleep in.” Ed’s eyes widened at the thought of sleeping over, even if it was in the guest room. Roy’s eyes narrowed slightly for a moment. “Though,” he nodded toward the other side of the room, “If your brother keeps up with the punch the way he is, we might have to put him in there.” Ed followed the other man’s eye line, and sure enough, Al was chatting animatedly with Shezka and drinking the punch as if it were water. Ed wanted to tell him to slow down, and nearly got up to do so, but Roy put a hand on his arm. “Let him be.”
“But he’ll get drunk!”
“What’s your point?” Roy asked, eying him strangely. “He’s of legal age. And he knows that stuff’s spiked. If he doesn’t stop, then it’s his fault that he’ll be worshiping the porcelain god later on.” There was an oddly sadistic smile at the corners of Roy’s mouth, which reminded Ed much of the one he’d seen there at his own birthday party. All it had taken was a few drinks for him to be wobbling around the barroom. Come to think of it, Ed could not remember Al ever drinking before. It might be amusing to see him that way.
“Damn,” Roy grunted, “he’s heavier than he looks.” He currently had Alphonse thrown over one of his shoulders, and was walking up the stairs with Ed not far behind.
A snort came from Ed, and he said, “Yeah, but did you see him before he passed out?” Roy laughed at that. Al had been all but slobbering drunk. Hopefully, he would not remember anything he said in the past hour, because if he did, the kid would never be able to face Riza again. The look on her face when Al started telling her how pretty she was had been priceless. In the end, he had his doubts about Al ‘passing out’. He was pretty sure Riza hit some kind of pressure point and knocked him out to avoid his making too much more of an ass of himself.
Ed walked ahead of him to the indicated door, and opened it. Roy entered, using his right shoulder to turn on the lights. It was a simple room, with nothing more than a bed, a small night-table, and one trunk in the far corner. As gently as possible, he let Al down onto the bed. Ed immediately moved in to yank off the drunken young man’s shoes, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Roy went into the adjoining bathroom and got the garbage can. When it was set next to the bed, he excused himself. “I’ll go and get rid of everyone. You just make sure to put him close enough to the edge that when he pukes, he’ll do it in that can.”
The snickering laughter that followed him out of the door made him chuckle in turn. He could well imagine how much fun Ed was having right now, putting his usually uptight sibling to bed while he was passed out drunk. Putting one hand on the railing, Roy stumped down the stairs. His subordinates were lounging around the room in varying states of relaxation and/or inebriation. Havoc was laughing at Riza, who was sitting stiffly on one arm of the couch. Her jacket was unzipped, revealing a dark green sweater, and her arms were crossed firmly under her breasts. She looked as if she were just this side of mortified.
Breda piped up from the table where the snacks were held and said, “So, Sir, how’s Al?”
One of Roy’s thin, dark eyebrows rose, and he regarded the smile on Breda’s face with some suspicion. “He’s fine. Just passed out.” Of course, as he said this, there was an enormously loud retching sound from upstairs, followed by a very indignant yell.
“AAAAALL! YOU NASTY LITTLE FUCKER! GODDAMNIT! YOU PUKED ON ME!”
Eyes widened all around the room, and for half a second, no one moved. Then, Havoc gave a little cough. “Er…look at the time! I really should get going.” He approached Roy and put a hand on his shoulder, saying, “Good luck dealing with the Boss, Sir. I don’t guess he’s real happy right now.” And as soon as he grabbed his coat, Fuery was on his feet, leading the mass-exodus to the door.
Riza was the last to leave, as always. She stood, zipping her jacket. “Do you need any help with Edward and Alphonse?”
Roy shook his head. “No, I think I’ll be fine. If we end up burning the place down, I’ll just make Ed fix it.” She looked a little doubtful of that, but in the end, she did leave. Now, he walked to the foot of the stairs. “Ed? You okay?”
“No!” Came the yelled reply, “I’m covered in projectile vomit!” Roy sighed, beginning to make his way upstairs. This was not the way he’d envisioned the evening. He’d thought that Falman’s punch would mellow Alphonse out a bit. That way, it would have been much less irritating when he might get just a tad friendlier with Ed. Simple as that. Now, he had a passed-out drunk Al in his guest room, and a very annoyed Edward, who continued to grumble as he mounted the head of the staircase. Upon entering the guest room, he saw Ed wiping up a large amount of very red vomit from the floor. He wasn’t wearing his dress shirt, and it appeared that the large formerly white cloth he’d been using on the hardwood floor used to be what he’d been wearing.
The muscles of Ed’s back flexed and relaxed as he scrubbed at the floor, holding all of Roy's attention. There were scars on his back that Roy had never seen, and he wondered how they'd gotten there. As Ed cleaned, his mumbling became completely unintelligible. He looked up at Roy when he had done, and tossed his shirt into the garbage can, disgusted. Ed looked as if he were about to explode as he stood up. It appeared that the only article of clothing that had been ruined was the shirt. Roy thanked the powers that be for small miracles. He wasn't sure he wanted to deal with Ed if he had another uniform ruined. “He missed the can,” Ed said flatly.
Roy nodded. “I see that.”
Ed’s face gave a twitch as he went into the bathroom. “Do you have any extra clothes?” He asked as the shower roared to life.
“Sure. I’ll get something. Pajamas okay?” Something that sounded affirmative came out of the bathroom, so Roy went down the hall to get a set of pajamas for Ed. Al was now snuggled into the covers, his chin cleaned of sickness. The only dilemma was where Ed would sleep. He had few options. As the house had only two bedrooms, he could either sleep on the couch or in Roy’s bed. While the dirty old man that took up a significant portion of Roy’s brain kept telling him that Ed should sleep in his bed, the rest of him knew that it would be a point of contention.
The only real obstacle after Al’s attitude was Edward. If he made reference to his less-than-platonic feelings, the blond man would stutter, blush, and try to change the subject. He had seen a little of that when he suggested that Ed might need to sleep in the guest room. This was something that he truly did not understand. Was it that Ed was a prude? He wondered on this subject as he rooted through his dresser, trying to find something that could possibly fit his young friend. In the end, he settled on an old, faded pair of blue flannel pajamas that had shrunk a bit when he’d put them in the dryer one too many times.
Upon arriving once again in the guest room, he saw that Ed was standing over his brother, his anger having dulled somewhat. For a second or two, he simply stood there, gaping. Ed wore nothing but one of Roy’s bathroom towels, cinched around his waist, his hands on his hips in a standoffish posture. He saw that Ed had neglected to dry himself off completely, as water clung to the indentations between the muscles of his abdomen. The room suddenly felt much warmer than it had a moment ago, and he forced himself to turn his attention to the fact that the ends of Ed’s bangs had gotten wet, along with some of his braid. It wouldn’t do to be caught ogling.
Ed noticed Roy’s entrance, but did not look away from Al. “Damn it,” he said in an annoyed tone, “I can’t stay mad at him when he looks like that.” Indeed, Roy thought that Al was perhaps one of the most innocent-looking people he’d met, so it was difficult to keep up even the appearance of anger. Not when he turned those eyes on you. Eyes much like Ed’s, which now looked to where he stood in the doorway. “Oh, good,” he said, “you found something.”
Roy looked down, and realized that he was holding the clothing he’d gone to retrieve. “Oh…yes. It’s old, but it should fit all right.”
Ed wondered why Roy looked so...befuddled, but decided to shrug it off. He walked over and took the clothes from the other man, who simply let them slip from his fingers while staring dumbly. As he was walking away, it hit him that he was half naked, and soaking wet. Ed resisted the urge to actually run into the bathroom. He knew his face was turning an embarrassing shade of red, but that hardly mattered, since he was nearly to the lavatory door.
Were he to see Roy in such a state, what would he look like? Probably a lot like that, he thought. Yeah, and I’d be as red as a tomato. It was truly irritating the way he couldn’t control the color of his face, or even his speech patterns at times. Ed wasn’t sure what it was about being in close proximity to Roy that made him flustered and uneasy, but whatever it was, he wished it would stop. He stuttered, and blushed, and said very stupid things. Maybe the problem was that he didn’t know how to act around Roy now.
If they were in a professional situation, he was fine. Things were all right when they were having a drink at the bar, as well. But there had been times, especially in the past month, when Ed was simply at a loss for words. He closed the door to the bathroom behind him, and pulled away the towel from his waist. Wiping the mirror with the soft cloth, he looked at his face. It was, as he had suspected, rather pink. Ed growled in the back of his throat at his own inability to deal with the current situation. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to act. Growls turned to a long, tired sigh.
He could force himself to behave normally with Roy, but what good would that do? Normal was not what he wanted. His normal, usual self around Roy was angry and intolerant. Ed wasn’t sure he wanted to be that person anymore. Roy was not the enemy.
Okay, Ed thought as he pulled on the soft flannel pajama pants, if he’s not an enemy, then what is he?
Well, that was the sixty-four thousand dollar question, wasn’t it? He dabbed at his chest with the towel before discarding it. It was obvious to him—and probably to anyone that saw them together—that his commanding officer had…a thing for him. The issue at hand was whether Ed had a similar thing. He had never thought of anyone in a romantic sense, so it was difficult to start now. Threading his arms through the sleeves of the pajama shirt, he thought about the various people he’d met, and how he felt about them.
Winry was like a sister to him, and try as he might, it was completely impossible to think of her as anything else. His other acquaintances in the military garnered lukewarm responses at best, with the exception of Colonel Armstrong, who made his blood run cold, though not so much as his older sister did. Then there were his old friends back home. They were not much more than distant recollections, now. None of those people had ever made his stomach feel hot and cold at the same time, or caused him to be inarticulate due to their mere presence.
On the other side of the door, however, there was an individual who was capable of precisely those things, and much more. Roy Mustang could push his buttons better than any other human being alive today, but that was probably because he was the only person that understood him well enough to be able to do it. And when he felt like it, Roy was almost sweet. His fingers slipped on the top button of the shirt as they attempted to get it through the buttonhole. Sudden realization hit him with the force of a fifteen mega-ton warhead, and Ed swayed on his feet. Only throwing a hand out and gripping the sink kept him from falling over completely.
He wasn’t really sure, and he wouldn’t be until he actually left the bathroom, but it seemed like something he should have thought of a long time ago. Ed would not be certain about it until he saw Roy, but for the love of God, he did not want to leave the bathroom…he just couldn’t face that man. You can’t hide in here forever, you know. Ed suddenly wished that he’d had more of that punch. At least it would make dealing with Roy a bit easier now that he had figured out his own feelings.
Roy was just putting away the last of the snacks when Ed came down the stairs. Even if they’d shrunk, his old pajamas were still a bit large on the younger alchemist. He could see the edge of Ed’s automail fittings for his shoulder, and the sleeves came down nearly to cover his fingers. Almost certainly, he had to roll up the pants, as well. For a long moment, Ed simply stood there at the foot of the stairs, his weight shifting from foot to foot. He would glance at Roy, and then look away uncomfortably, which made the older man quite concerned.
He set down the bag of potato chips he’d been holding, and crossed half of the room before asking, “Is something wrong with Al?” Ed just shook his head vigorously, his eyes widening and body stiffening with each step Roy took toward him. “Are you okay?”
Ed made a show of laughing off his apparent nervousness, and said, “I’m fine. Do you have any garbage bags?” Roy found this behavior to be very strange, but said that he did, and went into the pantry, returning with a roll of forty-gallon black plastic garbage bags. They were the ones he used to put leaves in when he had the yard all raked. After setting them down on the coffee table, he went back into the kitchen to put away the rest of the food, including the cake, which went into the refrigerator.
When he got back, the room looked as if there had been no party, with the exception of a small mound of unwrapped gifts on the sideboard, and four large, full bags of decorations. Roy raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was going to take forever?” He felt the corners of his mouth turning upward in amusement.
Ed scratched the back of his head in a sheepish gesture. “I forgot?”
Roy snorted. “You must have been pretty preoccupied to suddenly forget that you’ve studied alchemy for most of your life.” Ed laughed, still sounding uncomfortable. Now Roy knew something was wrong. He could not remember a time when Ed had been like this. “Are you sure you’re okay, Ed?”
Inwardly, Ed cursed. This was worse than he thought. Roy knew something was up, and if he asked, Ed wasn’t altogether certain he’d be able to tell him what it was. It looked like it was time for a last ditch effort to keep the other man in the dark, if only for a little longer. “Eh…I think I need a freakin’ drink. I’ve never been puked on before, and it’s been a long day.” Roy seemed satisfied with this, and disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a bottle and two glasses. They plopped down on the couch—well, Ed plopped—and the glasses were filled. As he took his drink from Roy, his fingertips barely grazed the skin of the older man’s knuckles.
There was the barest of pauses, almost unnoticeable, in Roy’s movement when his hand withdrew, but Ed saw it. In fact, he was picking up all sorts of little details that he never had before. He settled himself on the opposite end of the couch, trying to put some space between them, but ended up pulling his legs up, and leaning on the squashy arm of the thing. Now facing Roy’s right side, he watched him covertly as he drank. When the liquor touched his tongue, he started. It was a smooth, rich taste that spread through his mouth and trickled down his throat, instantly warming him. Ed dug his toes into the cushions, getting more comfortable and making rather contented sounds.
Roy reached around the side of the couch, and came back up with a rather fuzzy green blanket. “Here,” he said as he tossed it over Ed’s legs, “to keep you warm.”
Ed lowered his glass, and his thoughts popped right out of his mouth without waiting for approval. “You ought to be careful, Roy. I might start to think you’re a nice guy.” He now wished there was a wall nearby, so that he could bang his head against it. That sounded beyond lame.
Up shot one very dark eyebrow, denoting only mild irritation. “I am a nice guy.”
“When you want something, you are,” Ed blurted, and was instantly sorry. It might have been the hurt that flitted over Roy’s face, but it was more than likely what followed it. That slightly wounded expression was replaced very quickly with a grin so conniving, so evil, so irrepressibly wicked that Ed felt his stomach drop right down into his toes.
“What exactly do you mean by that, Edward?” If he’d thought Roy’s smile was evil before, he had been wrong. It somehow worsened when he spoke in that slow way that somehow added a sort of darkness to his voice. Ed swallowed, trying to speak, but found that his voice had gone absent without leave. His hands gripped his glass tighter, and his face started to burn.
“I…” Ed croaked, not knowing what to say. Of course, it was easy to tell what—or it might be more appropriate to say whom—Roy wanted, but Ed would be damned if he was going to say that aloud. Instead, he took a long draw from his glass. Alcohol seemed to calm his nerves at times. Though at the moment, there did not seem to be anything that would be capable of such a feat. He watched Roy watching him from across the couch, and swallowed more of his drink. There wasn’t much left of what he’d started with, and he held out the glass in a silent request.
Roy smiled again, uncorking the bottle. “You looking to get drunk, Ed?” The question seemed innocent enough. And perhaps in Roy’s mind, it had been. But to Ed, that sounded incalculably dirty, and his face felt as if it had caught fire.
He found his voice just in time to mutter, “It takes the edge off.”
This statement earned a nod from the older alchemist. “That it does,” Roy said in that dark tone. Ed didn’t understand why, but Roy’s voice was doing very strange things to him. The low, deep sound reached right down into his guts, playing Hell with his equilibrium. He was completely unable to look away from Roy’s face, even as he poured another full tumbler. “Here you are, Ed.” When he stretched out his hand for the glass again, Roy held it just out of his reach. It was like dangling a lifeline in front of a drowning man. Ed’s fingertips barely touched the cool surface of the glass. Roy chuckled. In an almost sing-song way, he chided, “Ask nicely.”
What kind of game was Roy playing now? Ed thought for a moment, regarding the way those dark eyes looked at him. Was he trying to make him feel stupid? Or…maybe he was doing that for an entirely different reason. Ed realized suddenly that he was trying to make him even more nervous. Roy was pushing his buttons, making him flustered and aggravated on purpose. Why he did that, Ed never understood, but he must take pleasure in it. And what was Ed around for, if not to burst Roy’s bubble at every opportunity?
How, precisely did one burst the bubble of the man seated not four feet away? Well, Ed thought, that’s simple. I do the thing he least expects.
Roy watched Ed looking dumbly at him. He loved baiting the younger man, simply because of how fun it was to watch him blush. Once he discovered the correct sequence of looks, comments and actions, it only took a little maneuvering before he could see that pink tinge in Ed’s cheeks. That such coloring just happened to be rather becoming on Edward was an added bonus, of course.
The blush darkened for a moment, and Ed looked away, teeth beginning to worry at his bottom lip. This new behavior was entrancing, and Roy could not take his eyes from it. All too soon, however, that lip was released, and Ed looked at him again. There was an expression in those golden eyes that he’d never seen. It was almost coy, but Ed was never coy. A tiny smile was pulling at the corners of his mouth, and Roy somehow found it to be slightly threatening. Instincts of fight or flight flooded his body with adrenaline as Ed got up onto his knees, inching closer. Roy’s mouth went dry.
From the look on Ed’s face, he knew he should jump up from where he was sitting and run away screaming bloody murder. There was no way that anything good could come of that face. He couldn’t even defend himself, as both of his hands were full. His heart started hammering in his chest when Ed’s knee brushed against his leg. The last time he was this close, they’d gotten into a physical altercation resulting in Roy wearing a cast for eight weeks. It took a lot for him to keep from swallowing at the lump in his throat.
Ed was leaning toward him now, and he could feel body heat. Surely he could hear Roy’s heartbeat, because it pounded even harder now, filling his ears with the rush of blood. He felt Ed’s breath as it drifted over the skin of his lips. A clinking sound came from nearby, but it could have been on the moon for all Roy cared. The heat from Ed’s mouth was so close, the smell of him invaded Roy’s head, and he felt suddenly drunk. And then Ed’s lips parted, whispering one word in a breathless, almost desperate way. “Please…”
Roy’s eyes started to slide shut. He could almost feel the texture of those lips, and damn him, but he could taste them, too. And then…it was gone. A sudden chill came over him, and Roy opened his eyes. What he saw was baffling. Ed was sitting across the couch again, now holding his drink and smirking evilly. “You…” He began, but couldn’t finish for a long moment. It took nearly half a minute of staring at Edward’s triumphant grin before he thought of the right word. “You…you tease!”
An infuriatingly innocent look came over Ed’s face. “What are you talking about?” Of course, that didn’t last long, because Ed’s poker face cracked, and then he burst into peals of laughter. “You should have seen yourself…” Holding his drink with his auto-mail hand, Ed put the palm of his flesh hand against his side, where it apparently hurt him to laugh as hard as he was. Roy could not believe this. It would appear that Ed had learned how to exploit his weaknesses, and that somehow angered him.
His left arm extended, and he set the bottle down on the coffee table with a soft thump. “That was a dirty trick, Edward,” he could hear the sharp note of irritation in his voice, but even to his own ears, that did not cover the disappointment that lay beneath.
The smirk now reached Ed’s eyes, and he replied, “I learned from the best.” He did not look away from Roy as he sipped more of the whiskey in his glass. Was that an underhanded compliment, or a thinly veiled insult? Hell, it might be both, coming from Ed. He didn’t know what to make of this. But, if he was going to get the upper hand again, Roy had to get a grip on the situation.
“And yet, Edward, you didn’t move in for the kill…” One blond eyebrow rose, the unspoken challenge having been acknowledged. “Maybe you just don’t have what it takes?” Oh, if that didn’t get Ed’s attention, nothing would. And as Roy watched, Ed blinked slowly, digesting what he had just said.
Ed’s face went blank. “Did you just call me chicken?”
Roy scratched the side of his face, and then shrugged. “You said it, not me.” He kept his expression carefully neutral, right along with his voice as he continued, “But now that you mention it…you did stop.” Watching that stew in Ed’s mind seemed to take ages, but finally, he saw the characteristic rising of Ed’s chin.
In a tone that dripped defiance, Ed asked rhetorically, “So you think I’m scared of you or something?” Roy only raised his eyebrows. In such situations, silence was as good as an admission of guilt. And for once, he wasn’t trying to back out of the argument. He wasn’t trying to win, either. That would defeat the purpose. Again, Ed seemed to think. The wheels in the young man’s head turned so loudly, Roy could hear them all the way across the couch. Where they were headed was anyone’s guess, though. After taking another swig from his glass—finishing it off—Ed set it down on the table. He looked like he had formed some kind of conclusion, but Roy was completely unsure what that might be.
Ed’s flesh hand rose, coming up nearly to his face. One finger made a curling motion, and he said, “Why don’t you come over here and say that?”
Obediently, Roy scooted over onto the middle cushion. Leaning over just a little, he let his smile turn evil again and said lowly, “Chicken.”
Eyes narrowing to slits, Ed pushed his face forward. “Look who’s talking…” There was mean-spirited amusement in that growl. Roy couldn’t tell if it was a warning or an invitation. He didn’t even know why Ed was doing this. Was it because he was tipsy, and the inhibitions had fallen by the wayside? Or was he just screwing around?
Roy couldn’t help but lean in closer. He could smell the soap from the upstairs bathroom, the liquor on Ed’s breath, and something warm and earthy underneath. These things, mixed with the heat coming from the younger man’s body proved to be a heady, potent mixture. His voice came out in a harsh whisper, betraying him. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Ed.”
Fast as a snake, Ed’s auto-mail hand shot out, grabbing the front of Roy’s shirt. Their faces were so close, he thought he felt his nose touch Ed’s as he said threateningly, “So now I’m just a kid again, am I?”
“No,” Roy replied helplessly, feeling his lips graze Ed’s when he spoke, “I mean you don’t know what you’re doing…to me.” For an instant, he paused, gathering the courage to do what he had wanted to for months. By way of warning, he said, “I’m going to kiss you, Ed.” There was some kind of noise that came from Ed, but it got cut off when their lips met.
Whatever protests Ed had been formulating suddenly went up in smoke. He didn’t understand what was happening, or how a simple joke could lead to this. It was beyond him why he hadn’t knocked Roy across the room the instant his mouth came into contact with Ed’s. But as much of a mystery as that was, it was nowhere near as shocking to his system as when he let go of the cloth he’d been holding, his hand sliding up to the back of Roy’s neck to pull him closer.
After a long few moments, Ed was having difficulty breathing. He pulled away, only to see an utterly dazed look on Roy’s face. It looked like he was drunk. For as long as he’d known the man, Ed had never seen him look quite like that. I did that to him, Ed thought, suddenly feeling quite pleased with himself. “Are you all right, Roy,” he asked teasingly, “or did I kill you?” Roy simply blinked at him. This was fun. Ed liked the look on his face, and he liked very much that he’d been the one to put it there. It felt rather good, this pressing of lips, but he knew there was more to it than that.
It took a very long time for Roy to recover from that. Unsure if he was awake, dreaming, or possibly drunk, he gave his leg a small pinch. Nope. He was awake, and not drunk enough for the pain to have dulled. That only meant one thing. Edward Elric let Roy kiss him. And judging by the fact that he was still alive, Ed hadn’t hated it. Just when he thought he’d gotten over his first taste of Ed, he was inundated once again. Lips pressed against his, warm and insistent. Roy felt like his body was floating, especially when something hot and wet and undeniably like a tongue slid across his lower lip.
“Ed, what—“his question was swallowed up by the most wonderfully gratifying sensation of Ed’s tongue entering his mouth. He couldn’t remember feeling this lost because of a simple kiss. Fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him in further and deepening the kiss dangerously. Breathing was difficult, and he could feel a familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach. His mind was growing hazy, beginning to care much less than he had a moment ago that Edward might be getting caught up in something he was probably not ready for. But he questioned even that thought when the younger man began doing things to his mouth that Roy was sure he should have no knowledge of.
Had someone walked in at that moment, they might have described the image of Ed and Roy as obscene. Ed moved to sit in Roy’s lap, settling in a very precarious place, considering how excited Roy had become. He did not seem bothered by this at all, settling his full weight directly over the obvious bulge there. The kiss broke again when that happened, and Roy gave a harsh, strangled cry. Ed’s mouth trailed down his jaw, and Roy let out a groan when sharp teeth nipped at his throat. Through the fog in his head, he knew that he needed to stop this. If he didn’t, it might get out of hand. He was not prepared for that, and neither was Ed. It took far too much out of him to put his hands on Ed’s shoulders and push him away.
“What?” Ed asked, genuinely confused.
The weight in his lap shifted, and Roy gasped. “Ah! As much as it…pains me to say, I think that this has gone far enough.” Ed made a face that was dangerously close to a pout, and Roy used resolve he didn’t know he had to say, “I don’t want to go too fast. I…I don’t want to do anything to hurt you.”
“But…” Ed said softly, leaning forward and kissing him gently, “…it feels…so nice…”
He closed his eyes. “And…” Roy didn’t want to say it. Ed kissed him again, deeper this time, and he could feel his willpower being driven to the breaking point. Finally, when he could almost hear it on point of snapping in two, he took Ed’s face in both hands, pulling away from him slightly. Holding him there, he said, “It feels amazing, Ed. But I don’t know why you’re doing it. Can we wait until the morning…and talk about it then?”
Ed wanted to yell at him. He wanted to throw a tantrum that would shake the entire house. Wasn’t it obvious to Roy? How could he not have figured out why Ed suddenly decided to molest his mouth in ways that he never could have imagined? Instead of raising his voice, spoke calmly. “Look me in the eye, Roy, and tell me you don’t know why I kissed you.” Eyes black as tar opened, peering into his, and then suddenly closed again. Roy’s arms wound around him then, pulling him tightly against him. His voice was muffled by the sweater the man wore when he said, “I’m not so drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing…”
“Ed,” Roy said near his ear, “I’m really tired.”
Ed laughed a little. He felt it, too. The adrenaline was draining off, and what it left behind was a kind of emotional fatigue that made his entire body feel heavy and sluggish. “Then let’s go to sleep, okay?” The words were out of his mouth before his brain had time to filter them, but he wasn’t really sorry. Sleep sounded very good to him, and he’d be damned if he was going to do it on this lumpy couch. A moment later, he was following Roy upstairs. The bed was big enough for four people, but it wasn’t long before he was safely pressed against a newly pajama-clad chest.
“’Night, Ed,” he heard Roy say before he felt lips press against his forehead.
“Good night, Roy.”
A/N: Attention! The final chapter of Demon In the Design is currently being held hostage. As this one is already over 8,000 words, it was going to have to be a two-parter anyway. In the coming chapter, you'll get to see a nice early-morning confrontation between Al and Roy, and some rather steaminess between our main pair. So if you want your smut, then you need to...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