Fullmetal Alchemist/Supernatural - Gingerbread [Roy/Ed]

[scriveyner]

Title: Gingerbread
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
AU: Mashup/Chasing the Sun
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed, Al
Rating: T
Length: 1131
Summary: It's ED'S kitchen, dammit...



It was well after two in the afternoon when Al finally stumbled out of bed. Everyone had the most peculiar sleeping schedules, which was still a useful thing when your job worked you primarily nights. What it meant in reality was that rarely was there a regular breakfast time, or a regular wake-up time. Al rubbed his eye with the back of his hand and yawned big, hoping that he wasn't the last one up.

All the rooms in the bunker (or lair, or batcave, or any other term Ed had decided was more apropos this week instead) were now accounted for, to the point that the last room left held all the dusty, rather-terrifyingly-old military-style stacked beds. Fortunately they hadn't had occasion to test those out yet, although Ed had said in his off-hand way that he would get around to "fixing" them. ("Fix them HOW," was the question of the hour, but Al was afraid the answer involved either Winry or alchemy, and either option was a disaster in waiting.) 

Because of the sudden upswing in occupancy, what once was a sprawling, open area seemed a lot more ... claustrophobic. Rian sat at one of the study tables in the library, squinting through red-rimmed eyes at three pieces of a broken black tablet Roy had found locked in a box in the archives. No one was sure what it was for, but Rian hadn't slept since Roy found it, and that was almost a week ago. Al hesitated in the doorway, but Rian didn't seem to notice him as he walked quietly through the library, and stuck his head in the kitchen. 

Ed was up, shirtless, and Roy had both his arms around Ed and his chin on his shoulder. "Fucking HELL," Al said and spun right back the way he came. Ed dropped the spatula he had with a clatter and Al heard Roy chuckle. "You have a fucking BEDROOM-" 

"We're not doing anything," Ed said and Al cautiously swung his head around the corner. Roy had taken a step back, but he was still laughing, and Ed was in the process of slinging the now-dirty spatula into the sink. 

"It's the middle of December and you're shirtless," Al said, accusation dripping in his voice. 

"He's also crazy," Roy said, finally getting his laughter under control. 

"Everybody's a critic," Ed grunted, opening drawers and looking for more cooking utensils. "This is MY home, if I want to freeball it I fucking could." 

"It's my home too and I will hang you upside down by your heels if I catch you wandering around naked for no good reason," Al said. Ed rolled his eyes and waved at Roy, who had retreated back and was leaning against a different counter. "That was my last clean spatula, fucking find me another one before this batch gets out of the oven." 

It was then that Al realized that the warmth in the air came from the large ovens currently on, and when Ed pulled one of the heavy doors open he got hit by a blast of warmth and the scent of sweet. He hung in the door while Ed peered into the dark depths. "What is going on here?" 

"Ed's getting in touch with his inner housewife," Roy explained. Ed stood up, snapping the oven door shut, and turned about with murder in his eye. Al raised his own eyebrow, waiting for Roy to open his mouth again and further seal his fate. 

"I am BAKING, you PHILISTINE," Ed said officiously. "I am NOT a housewife. That's what Kenshin does." 

"Oi," Al said, and glanced over his shoulder. The notoriously touchy Japanese hunter had not made an appearance in a while, and it was entirely possible he had vacated the bunker - no one was brave enough to try to bother him except Rian, who gave absolutely zero fucks - but that was not a calamitous fight that Al was intent on witnessing. 

"Oh, come on. If left to his own devices he does all the laundry. ALL of it, Al - even your nasty ass tighty whities." Ed located what resembled oven mitts, and opened the door to the oven again. 

"What are you baking?" Al asked as Ed fiddled with the tray. When he received no response, he glanced to Mustang again. "What is he baking?" 

"Gingerbread ninjas," Ed said. 

"Gin-what." 

"Gingerbread ninjas. You know, like gingerbread men except with shuriken and black icing for their gi." Ed tossed the tray on the counter and frowned at it. "Except maybe this batch won't need the icing, they're a little on the singed side." 

Al shook his head, and glanced at Roy, who was watching Ed was a fond little half-smile. It was good to see them not only talking to each other again, but genuinely happy to be together - and now that Winry had sorted out her issues with them both things were kinda resembling normal again. 

(As "normal" as it got with how thin the walls were in this place, dear god. He'd taken to wearing earplugs to bed.) 

"Is there a particular reason for the gingerbread ninja, or are you just bored again?" Al asked. "Rian could probably use help with the research." 

"Rian could use some Valium and about a month straight of sleep," Roy said, and Al at least had to agree with that. "Also, unless the calender fails me in this dark and dismal lair, it *is* the midst of December." 

"What Roy said," Ed said, already slinging a second tray into the oven. "I mean, I'd put up a tree but it would probably come alive and try to eat us, so I figure gingerbread men are pretty benign in the grand scheme of things." 

"Don't say THAT too loud," Winry said from behind Al, and Al moved aside to let her pass. She was dressed, although her hair was damp and tied back in a long heavy braid. "Mornin', Al." 

"It's two p.m.," Al said, at least gratified that he WASN'T the last out of bed. 

"Says your clock," Winry said. She kissed Roy on the cheek, and tugged at Ed's spiky little ponytail at the base of his skull. "Whew, Roy, you need a shave. Prickly." 

Roy rubbed his jaw. "I did shave," he said, injured. 

"Not very well. Ed, you need to turn down the oven, you're burning everything." 

"I know what I'm doing," Ed said, offended, as Winry started fiddling with dials. "Hey! Hey, this is MY kitchen, stop that!" 

Al smiled as he ducked out of the kitchen. He could use a shave himself, and a shower - maybe by the time he was out there would be something more resembling lunch.