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scriveynerTitle: Under the Mistletoe
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
AU: n/a
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 1551
Summary: An unexpected visitor.
"Snow," Edward grunted, stomping his white-encased boots all over the towels laid down right inside the door of Roy’s foyer. "Fuckin’ HATE snow, wet powdery slush fucking hate it ALL." Roy watched this display from a safe distance, hands wrapped around a fresh cup of coffee and far from the splash zone as snow sloughed off the boots and from Edward’s shoulders.
"You didn’t HAVE to come over," Roy pointed out mildly, and Edward stopped mid-stomp, boot in the air and gave him such a look that Roy had to hide his amusement in the coffee cup lest Edward get any ideas about flinging snowballs in the house.
"Didn’t HAFTA come over," Edward snorted into his scarf, in a high-pitched imitation of Roy’s own voice. Roy couldn’t bother to be offended by the sarcasm any longer, simply because it was such a part and parcel of Edward’s own being that he would have gone mad otherwise.
He watched as Edward shucked his coat off, brushed snow from his hair onto the increasingly-soaked towels, heel off his boots and hop over the sodden mess he had created. “How is your brother?” Roy asked as that familiar stalk of blond hair bobbed past at eye level. Edward made a beeline toward the kitchen, where Roy’s fresh pot of coffee sat at the percolator.
"Cold," Edward responded. Roy simply turned the corner and stood in the doorway of the kitchen while Edward fished a mug from the cupboards himself. He made no move to assist him, simply because Edward was in a MOOD, and when he was in a MOOD and Roy tried to be a gracious host it ended with them squabbling and both trying to fetch something from the cupboard and something (usually the dishware) ending up in broken shards all over the floor.
Besides, Edward without his boots on was a good inch shorter so he was getting quite some private delight out of watching him up on his toes, trying to reach a mug. Even his winter outfit was a shade too tight over that perfectly formed ass. Roy took another swallow of his coffee, trying to remind himself that his first duty was not to immediately jump his subordinate’s bones, and that self-control was something to be applauded, not cursed.
"Just cold?" He asked instead, keeping the conversation to Alphonse was usually a safer course of action.
Edward stopped again and gave Roy another look, and then looked pointedly to the window in the kitchen, where big fat white flakes were drifting past. “It’s COLD,” he muttered. “Kid hasn’t been cold in years, it’s hitting him hard.” He absentmindedly rubbed his right shoulder, and then finally succeeded in fishing the mug from the cabinet, placing it on the counter and picking the pot of coffee up with his right hand. “Fuckin’ hate cold, he didn’t want me to get out of bed this morning.”
That came as a surprise. “You’re … sleeping with him?” It was a poor choice of words, if accurate, and Edward’s face flushed completely red.
"Not like THAT, fucking PERVERT that’s so gross he’s my BROTHER. UGH." Edward gave a full body shudder. "He wants the additional warmth in his bed, I can’t blame him, it’s hard as hell to sleep alone in this weather." There wasn’t any way to mistake the look that Edward punctuated the sentence with, so Roy coughed politely into his hand.
Edward turned around, back to the counter and mug clasped firmly between hands, one metal and one flesh. Roy smiled at him, but Edward’s eyes had been drawn to the door’s frame between the rooms. “What,” he asked, eyes on the bundle of green leaves and white berries, “is THAT?”
Roy blinked, and looked above himself, having already forgotten. He was not usually much for decorating around the holidays - once put up things had to be put away again in such a short frame of time - but the sprig had amused him, and it *was* his house. “Please,” Roy murmured. “Tell me not even you are THAT obtuse, Fullmetal.”
"I’ve fucking seen mistletoe before," Edward snarled. "Why the fuck is it in HERE?"
The amount of venom in his voice surprised Roy, who looked again at the small bundle of leaves and then back to Edward. He let the furious question linger in the air a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and taking a long sip of his coffee. “Why not?” he answered.
Edward glowered at him. “It’s a stupid tradition,” he said, eyeing Roy warily from his post. “It’s poisonous, AND a parasite. How that translates out to romantic I don’t even want to know.”
Roy was out of coffee, so he couldn’t hide the small choking noise he made with another swallow. Edward was already glaring, though. “I don’t think the origin of the tradition is as important as the meaning behind the gesture,” he said instead.
"If you think that tricking people into standing under mistletoe to kiss them is an important tradition, you can screw the fuck off, Mustang."
Suddenly some of Edward’s animosity began to make sense. Roy straightened against the door, holding his empty cup in both hands. “I didn’t intend to trick anyone,” he said. “It’s merely decorative. I wasn’t expecting your company until after the holidays anyway, what with your brother’s condition.” It wasn’t a lie, although he had hoped to see Edward before the year turned over, he had fully expected that Edward wouldn’t budge from Alphonse’s bedside. Alphonse couldn’t quite get along by himself yet, and certainly required at least a wheeled chair to be mobile (he had been called about Edward racing him in in the halls of the hospital, at the minimum, three times), so it was at least a pleasant surprise that he was here.
Mostly a pleasant surprise, even with that scowl stuck seemingly permanently on his features.
"Havoc likes to ambush people with it," Edward said sullenly. "Surprised Lieutenant Hawkeye didn’t shoot ’im."
For a brilliant, maddening second Roy had a flash of terror that Jean had kissed ED, and he was already formulating the ways that he was going to make the man regret he’d ever been born. “He didn’t.”
"He’s still alive and kicking somehow."
Roy forced a laugh through, hoping he had disguised the panic well enough, but Edward was terrifyingly perceptive when he wanted to be. Considering he was watching Alphonse like a hawk constantly, worried about any hiccup in his brother’s new flesh form, that attention to detail had maddeningly transferred to his interactions with other people, and Roy wasn’t USED to being scrutinized by Edward in that way.
Edward took a long sip of his coffee and said, simply. “Jealous?”
"No," Roy lied through his teeth. "But perhaps I need to revisit the regulations regarding proper office conduct during the holiday season with my garrison."
There was a moment of silence while Edward regarded Roy, then he turned, and placed his mug in the sink. Edward gestured at Roy with one hand, clearly asking for his empty mug, and Roy stepped forward into the room to pass it to him without thinking about it. Instead of the mug, however, Edward’s hand closed over Roy’s offered wrist and pulled him closer.
For someone who was that much smaller than Roy, the fact that he was so strong always came as a surprise. “It’s cute,” Edward muttered, his eyes situated somewhere on Roy’s torso and the pink already starting on the tips of his ears. “That you’re jealous.”
Roy transferred the coffee mug from his captured hand to the counter behind Edward smoothly. He leaned in a bit, tucked his free hand under Edward’s chin and raised his face. “Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe, Ed?”
The blush moved quickly from his ears to his cheeks. “Doesn’t matter,” Edward’s voice was stubborn. Roy’s hand still framed his face, thumb tracing his strong jawline.
It was surprisingly easy, just a few large steps. Edward did not release his wrist and came with him, until they were both standing under the doorway. “I think it does,” Roy murmured, Edward tucked in close to his body, the scent of snow still clinging to his hair. With Edward’s face turned up to his in silent permission, he leaned down to kiss him.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
AU: n/a
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 1551
Summary: An unexpected visitor.
"Snow," Edward grunted, stomping his white-encased boots all over the towels laid down right inside the door of Roy’s foyer. "Fuckin’ HATE snow, wet powdery slush fucking hate it ALL." Roy watched this display from a safe distance, hands wrapped around a fresh cup of coffee and far from the splash zone as snow sloughed off the boots and from Edward’s shoulders.
"You didn’t HAVE to come over," Roy pointed out mildly, and Edward stopped mid-stomp, boot in the air and gave him such a look that Roy had to hide his amusement in the coffee cup lest Edward get any ideas about flinging snowballs in the house.
"Didn’t HAFTA come over," Edward snorted into his scarf, in a high-pitched imitation of Roy’s own voice. Roy couldn’t bother to be offended by the sarcasm any longer, simply because it was such a part and parcel of Edward’s own being that he would have gone mad otherwise.
He watched as Edward shucked his coat off, brushed snow from his hair onto the increasingly-soaked towels, heel off his boots and hop over the sodden mess he had created. “How is your brother?” Roy asked as that familiar stalk of blond hair bobbed past at eye level. Edward made a beeline toward the kitchen, where Roy’s fresh pot of coffee sat at the percolator.
"Cold," Edward responded. Roy simply turned the corner and stood in the doorway of the kitchen while Edward fished a mug from the cupboards himself. He made no move to assist him, simply because Edward was in a MOOD, and when he was in a MOOD and Roy tried to be a gracious host it ended with them squabbling and both trying to fetch something from the cupboard and something (usually the dishware) ending up in broken shards all over the floor.
Besides, Edward without his boots on was a good inch shorter so he was getting quite some private delight out of watching him up on his toes, trying to reach a mug. Even his winter outfit was a shade too tight over that perfectly formed ass. Roy took another swallow of his coffee, trying to remind himself that his first duty was not to immediately jump his subordinate’s bones, and that self-control was something to be applauded, not cursed.
"Just cold?" He asked instead, keeping the conversation to Alphonse was usually a safer course of action.
Edward stopped again and gave Roy another look, and then looked pointedly to the window in the kitchen, where big fat white flakes were drifting past. “It’s COLD,” he muttered. “Kid hasn’t been cold in years, it’s hitting him hard.” He absentmindedly rubbed his right shoulder, and then finally succeeded in fishing the mug from the cabinet, placing it on the counter and picking the pot of coffee up with his right hand. “Fuckin’ hate cold, he didn’t want me to get out of bed this morning.”
That came as a surprise. “You’re … sleeping with him?” It was a poor choice of words, if accurate, and Edward’s face flushed completely red.
"Not like THAT, fucking PERVERT that’s so gross he’s my BROTHER. UGH." Edward gave a full body shudder. "He wants the additional warmth in his bed, I can’t blame him, it’s hard as hell to sleep alone in this weather." There wasn’t any way to mistake the look that Edward punctuated the sentence with, so Roy coughed politely into his hand.
Edward turned around, back to the counter and mug clasped firmly between hands, one metal and one flesh. Roy smiled at him, but Edward’s eyes had been drawn to the door’s frame between the rooms. “What,” he asked, eyes on the bundle of green leaves and white berries, “is THAT?”
Roy blinked, and looked above himself, having already forgotten. He was not usually much for decorating around the holidays - once put up things had to be put away again in such a short frame of time - but the sprig had amused him, and it *was* his house. “Please,” Roy murmured. “Tell me not even you are THAT obtuse, Fullmetal.”
"I’ve fucking seen mistletoe before," Edward snarled. "Why the fuck is it in HERE?"
The amount of venom in his voice surprised Roy, who looked again at the small bundle of leaves and then back to Edward. He let the furious question linger in the air a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and taking a long sip of his coffee. “Why not?” he answered.
Edward glowered at him. “It’s a stupid tradition,” he said, eyeing Roy warily from his post. “It’s poisonous, AND a parasite. How that translates out to romantic I don’t even want to know.”
Roy was out of coffee, so he couldn’t hide the small choking noise he made with another swallow. Edward was already glaring, though. “I don’t think the origin of the tradition is as important as the meaning behind the gesture,” he said instead.
"If you think that tricking people into standing under mistletoe to kiss them is an important tradition, you can screw the fuck off, Mustang."
Suddenly some of Edward’s animosity began to make sense. Roy straightened against the door, holding his empty cup in both hands. “I didn’t intend to trick anyone,” he said. “It’s merely decorative. I wasn’t expecting your company until after the holidays anyway, what with your brother’s condition.” It wasn’t a lie, although he had hoped to see Edward before the year turned over, he had fully expected that Edward wouldn’t budge from Alphonse’s bedside. Alphonse couldn’t quite get along by himself yet, and certainly required at least a wheeled chair to be mobile (he had been called about Edward racing him in in the halls of the hospital, at the minimum, three times), so it was at least a pleasant surprise that he was here.
Mostly a pleasant surprise, even with that scowl stuck seemingly permanently on his features.
"Havoc likes to ambush people with it," Edward said sullenly. "Surprised Lieutenant Hawkeye didn’t shoot ’im."
For a brilliant, maddening second Roy had a flash of terror that Jean had kissed ED, and he was already formulating the ways that he was going to make the man regret he’d ever been born. “He didn’t.”
"He’s still alive and kicking somehow."
Roy forced a laugh through, hoping he had disguised the panic well enough, but Edward was terrifyingly perceptive when he wanted to be. Considering he was watching Alphonse like a hawk constantly, worried about any hiccup in his brother’s new flesh form, that attention to detail had maddeningly transferred to his interactions with other people, and Roy wasn’t USED to being scrutinized by Edward in that way.
Edward took a long sip of his coffee and said, simply. “Jealous?”
"No," Roy lied through his teeth. "But perhaps I need to revisit the regulations regarding proper office conduct during the holiday season with my garrison."
There was a moment of silence while Edward regarded Roy, then he turned, and placed his mug in the sink. Edward gestured at Roy with one hand, clearly asking for his empty mug, and Roy stepped forward into the room to pass it to him without thinking about it. Instead of the mug, however, Edward’s hand closed over Roy’s offered wrist and pulled him closer.
For someone who was that much smaller than Roy, the fact that he was so strong always came as a surprise. “It’s cute,” Edward muttered, his eyes situated somewhere on Roy’s torso and the pink already starting on the tips of his ears. “That you’re jealous.”
Roy transferred the coffee mug from his captured hand to the counter behind Edward smoothly. He leaned in a bit, tucked his free hand under Edward’s chin and raised his face. “Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe, Ed?”
The blush moved quickly from his ears to his cheeks. “Doesn’t matter,” Edward’s voice was stubborn. Roy’s hand still framed his face, thumb tracing his strong jawline.
It was surprisingly easy, just a few large steps. Edward did not release his wrist and came with him, until they were both standing under the doorway. “I think it does,” Roy murmured, Edward tucked in close to his body, the scent of snow still clinging to his hair. With Edward’s face turned up to his in silent permission, he leaned down to kiss him.
