Title: Song of the Broken Hearted - Part 6
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: RoyxEd, Alter!RoyxEd
Author:![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
inugrlrayn
Rating: NC-17 eventually
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or it's characters and all that jazz.
Author's note: This chapter is ridiculously sappy. I tried to stay as true to 1920's ideals regarding behavior and such as I could. Hopefully, it worked out alright. Also, there are some pictures at the end of the chapter and stuff.
Summary: Post movie. Ed has resigned himself to being stuck on our side of the Gate. Roy tries to find a way to bring him and Al home and the ensuing accident results in both a moral and emotional dilemma.
All Chapters Here
A quick call to the newspaper’s office confirmed that Roy indeed did not take Saturdays off, not even for Valentine’s Day. With a shake of his head, because god, what was he doing, Ed tugged on his coat and boots, giving his hair a quick run through with a brush before tugging it up in its usual ponytail and he was out the door.
It wasn’t a terribly long walk, and Ed found himself facing the tall, nondescript brick building before he was actually ready to be. He took a breath and started for the door. He was already here, he might as well go inside.
The office was very…office-like as far as Ed could tell. The floors were tiled, dark and nondescript, with whitewashed walls that made most of the building feel a little cramped to him, given that he was used to the observatory, with its wide open space. How anyone could work here was beyond him. It was like Central’s Headquarters, but there were fewer windows, less natural light.
“Can I help you, honey?” The woman behind the front desk smiled at him, held up one manicured finger as the phone rang and she answered. Despite her blouse and skirt, and the bobbed chestnut hair, she looked almost motherly.
“Sorry about that,” she offered, setting the phone back in it’s cradle.
“Is Roy…” Ed paused, watching as a smile crept across her lips.
“He should be leaving in a moment.”
Ed nodded, taking a seat to wait, and wondering if he was the butt of some sort of joke he happened to not be aware of.
She kept glancing up at him from the corner of her eye, when she thought he wasn’t looking, and while it didn’t seem malicious, it wasn’t terribly comfortable either.
“Is there something I should know?” He asked finally, frustrated with all the staring. “Jeez, what did he tell you that you keep looking at me like that?”
“Oh, don’t be mad at him. He didn’t say anything. I’m just nosey. He asked me to run an errand earlier, and I couldn’t resist looking to see who it was that had gotten his attention.”
The flowers. Ed blushed, wishing he had alchemy so that he might be able to sink into the floor.
“I was a little surprised, I mean, he usually, well… oh never mind. I can see why he likes you, though.” She was still talking, but Ed wasn’t really listening anymore, wishing someone would call so that she would stop embarrassing him more, would stop looking at him.
It occurred to him then, that even though this sort of thing was marginally accepted, it could still ruin a career, either of theirs, really. It was a ridiculous notion, given that nothing had happened, maybe nothing even would, but he was feeling very protective at the moment (not that he cared about Roy one way or the other) and he needed to know at least she wouldn’t tell the entire world.
“Umm, this isn’t really something that, it’s… there’s nothing really going on,” Ed insisted.
“Just that Roy’s taken enough with you to send you flowers on Valentine’s Day and you drop by an hour later?”
Ed squeezed his eyes shut. He never should have come here.
“You don’t have to worry, you know. Roy’s like a son to me. I won’t breathe a word.”
She was so sincere, Ed breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this wasn’t a total disaster after all.
“Have a good day, Mrs. Johnston,” Roy smiled as he headed for the door, noticing Ed on the way.
“Edward?”
“Last I checked.”
Now that Ed was over his own embarrassment, there was something very endearing, and the littlest bit amusing about the way Roy’s cheeks flushed with something like nervousness, like he was expecting to get the bouquet he’d sent smashed in his face or something.
“What are you…I didn’t expect to see you here.” Roy finally found his voice, and Ed decided that he was incredibly glad that this Roy and the other Roy were so very, very different.
“I came…” Ed paused. Why had he come, anyway?
“Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not sure what I was thinking.” Ed shook his head, laughing internally at the way he headed for the door and Roy followed, as if letting him out of his sight meant losing him to some chasm of nothingness.
“I came here to say thank you.” He wasn’t sure if that was exactly why he came, but those were the words he settled on, and Roy seemed to relax so much once he’d said it, so he let it be.
They walked in silence, and it didn’t actually occur to Ed to wonder where they were going until they’d reached what was apparently Roy’s car.
“Sooo.” The word was drawn out, and Roy shifted on his heels as if at a loss for whatever came next.
Ed thought of something, took a deep breath to speak, all in a rush before he could second guess himself. “Do you want go get something to eat?”
He was blushing and this was ridiculous. It was a terrible idea, such a terrible idea. It was Valentine’s Day though, and he did rather like Roy a little bit, and he had gotten Ed flowers after all.
Roy tugged open the door, and Ed slid into the passenger seat of the car, hoping the fact that he was still a little shocked at himself didn’t show too plainly. Roy didn’t seem to notice, though and the car was rumbling softly before he knew it.
“So, where to?” Roy asked, breaking the silence between them once more.
“Oh… You know, actually I hadn’t thought that far,” Ed admitted sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, and mentally cursing as the ponytail was tugged loose. He fumbled with it a moment, trying to shove the hair back in its band before he let out an exasperated noise and left it until he could see what he was doing.
He shot a glance over at Roy, who was very pointedly not looking at him while snickering into the hand that wasn’t on the wheel.
Roy was speaking before Ed could threaten to…do something awful in retribution, his amusement reigned in to a broad smile, and god how was he supposed to stay angry at that.
“You know, everywhere is going to be busy tonight.”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t generally do this sort of thing,” Ed mumbled. Amestris wasn’t particular given to making a commercial holiday out of celebrating love or whatever silliness this world was parading it as.
“What would you suggest?” he asked, finally. At least if it was a disaster, it would be Roy’s idea and not his.
Roy chewed at his lip, not so much as if he was trying to come up with an idea, but more as if he were working up the nerve to just spit it out.
“You could let me make you dinner,” he offered, finally.
Oh, this was a terrible idea, even more so because he knew it was an incredibly innocent suggestion. It just didn’t sound terribly innocent, because some part of him kept expecting the other Roy’s mannerisms to crop up, where nothing was actually terribly innocent. This world, though, everyone seemed so very uptight. He scrubbed a hand over his face, wondering what the hell he was getting himself dragged into.
“Are you okay? If you want to do something else…”
“No, no that’s fine. That sounds nice, thank you.” Ed forced a smile, forced himself not to think about how different this would be in another world, the one he’d come from. It would be what it would be, and some part of him was rather grateful because somehow jumping into bed with someone when you were just finally getting over someone else, someone you’d known only about a month no less, did not seem like the greatest idea.
And so, Ed resigned himself to make this the smallest disaster he possibly could.
“Out of curiosity, do you know how it drive?”
Ed considered the question, more wondering how it pertained to anything than debating whether to answer. “Yes. Why?”
“Just wondering. I’ve seen your brother drive, but you’re always walking everywhere, so I just wondered.”
“Well, I like walking.”
“Even out in the cold?”
“Well, back home, I was in the military,” Ed started to explain.
“Yes, you told me.”
“I was on the go all the time, you know? This world is so… confining. I feel like that’s at least a little bit of freedom that I still have, something that at least keeps me a little bit in shape, even if I’m not blowing things up for a living anymore.”
“You know, this world isn’t as confining as it seems. There are lots of places to go.”
“No, not confining like that. You have no idea what it’s like to go from…so much power at your fingertips to absolutely nothing.” Roy was looking at him like he wanted very much to understand, and really had no idea what he was talking about.
“Okay, you write because you love it, right?” Roy nodded.
“Okay, think of what it would be like to end up somewhere, where all of a sudden you weren’t good at it anymore. You tried, and you just couldn’t, and there was no way to fix it because writing didn’t even exist in the world you’d ended up in, so everyone just thought you were a lunatic.” Ed searched Roy’s eyes for some sort of comprehension, relieved to find it eventually, and irritated at the sympathy that followed.
“I’m sorry, Ed.”
Ed shrugged. “Some things in this world aren’t so bad.”
X
Roy’s house was small, a one story affair with whitewashed siding and deep blue shutters at the windows. There was a little porch that ran the front of the house, concrete with stone half walls around it except for where the steps ran up. It looked rather welcoming, actually.
Ed looked around as Roy sorted through his keys, and the untouched snow in the yard, save for a shoveled walk, made him itch to go play in it. He shook his head, because honestly he ought to have outgrown that by now.
“Are you coming in?” Roy’s voice brought him back to the present, and he stepped inside the little foyer, pausing to toe off his snow covered boots. Roy was close, so close he could smell his shampoo, and he forced himself not to just close his eyes and drink it in. Roy took his coat, fingers brushing in what was most likely an accident, against Ed’s wrist, and what was it about this place that was making him so absolutely silly. It was just his wrist, after all.
Roy gently shooed him into the living room and over to a low, black and gray striped couch. It was terribly soft, and gave under him until he thought he could probably fall asleep right there, but that would be sort of rude.
“Hot chocolate?” Roy asked, heading for the kitchen.
“Sure?” Ed really hadn’t ever bothered to try it, and figured now was as good a time as any. He thought to ask what was in it, but decided Roy probably wouldn’t offer him something terribly awful.
A few minutes later, Roy hadn’t returned, and Ed cautiously padded the way he’d gone, ending up in the kitchen. Roy was at the stove in the cramped little room, stirring something, and eventually curiosity got the better of him.
“That was quick,” he commented, gesturing towards the almost bubbling liquid from where he leaned against the porcelain sink behind Roy.
“Not really, it’s been steeping all day.”
“What’s in it?” Ed asked finally. He had his suspicions, but it did smell good, so he thought he just might try it anyway.
Roy didn’t answer, pouring the contents of the pot into two mugs, and offering one to him.
“Just try it,” Roy prodded, pressing the cup into Ed’s palms.
Warily, Ed brought it to his lips, a cursory sip informed him that it indeed was not particularly vile. Actually, it was pretty good, sort of like warm chocolate pudding that was just barely starting to set, thick and creamy.
Roy watched in amusement as Ed’s lips quirked in the briefest of smiles, sighing contentedly into the mug.
“This has milk in it doesn’t it?” He didn’t actually remember ever telling Roy of his dislike for milk, but then, it was such a common irritation for him, that it was entirely likely he knew anyway. Roy was smiling rather mischievously at him, and he didn’t actually have to wait for an answer.
He supposed, though, that he’d drink it anyway. It was sort of like stew, created by some genius who knew how to make something out of milk that wasn’t disgusting.
Ed watched silently as Roy moved the now empty pot aside, rolling up his sleeves and setting to work on what Ed assumed was dinner.
“Do you want some help?” He felt vaguely guilty standing there watching Roy do all the work, but the only response he got was a head shaking in the negative.
“You’re my guest. Just relax.” Roy waved at a small table that was set in the only open spot in the kitchen, and Ed plopped down in a chair.
There was something very comfortable about all this, sitting in Roy’s kitchen with only the music lilting from the radio and Roy’s humming between them. It was sort of domestic, in a way Ed hadn’t ever thought he’d want, still wasn’t sure if maybe he was just attracted to the novelty of it, but it was nice, anyway.
The Roy he’d known on the other side of the gate had no inclination whatsoever to cook. In fact, anything that could be construed as homely, aside from cleaning the windows in his office (which was rather comical), was regarded as some sort of cardinal sin against his being. He had a maid who came twice a week, and he was rarely home enough for it to matter beyond that, and the few times Ed had had dinner with him, it was take out or Ed cooked or anything that did not involve any actual work on Roy’s part.
He supposed it shouldn’t surprise him that this Roy was so much more domestic. Without the responsibilities the other Roy had had dropped on his shoulders in the war, he might have been the same. That had been the spark that made him need to change the world, that had driven his ambitions. This Roy seemed rather content to just be, and Ed found himself hoping, for Roy’s sake, that he’d always be able to hang onto that, because, from all appearances, he was happy.
“You know, you know all sorts of things about me, and I hardly know a thing about you,” Ed pointed out in a lull between songs.
“You know things about me,” Roy corrected. “You know that I went to school here, and that I write for the newspaper, and you know that I like to spend time down by the river, and how I drink my coffee… and that I can cook.”
“That has yet to be determined,” Ed muttered good naturedly. Roy looked at him with something bordering on fondness.
“You do make good hot chocolate,” Ed amended.
“You know that you’re rather an exception to… my usual habits.”
Ed laughed at that, “You make it sound like you’ve got a new girlfriend every week or something.”
It was hard not to laugh more at the way Roy stared at him in something like embarrassed horror, because Ed knew it hadn’t been meant that way, but it did sound like it.
“And you’re a terrible sap.”
“There is a difference between sappy and romantic,” Roy countered.
“My landlady was practically leering at me over those flowers. They were sappy… and did you see the way your secretary was giggling?” Ed fumed.
“Sorry about that.”
“Eh, it’s okay I guess.” Ed let the conversation die down, watching as Roy was lost in the music, though it wasn’t terribly obvious save for the contented expression on his face.
It was then that Ed realized he never had managed to fix the ponytail. He tugged his gloves from his fingers and plucked the tie from his hair, smoothing it with his hands until it fell evenly at his shoulders. Roy stared at him for a moment, and then looked away, stirring at whatever it was he was making as if he’s been watching something he had no right to see.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I’m fine.” Roy was silent for a moment. “You look nice like that.”
Ed considered the statement. Normally, he put it up because it looked less, well he just put it up out of habit. It was often in the way after all. He supposed he could leave it down, though, just this once.
X
Whatever else might be said about the man, Ed had to admit that Roy was a good cook after all, not that spaghetti was a terribly difficult thing to make. He allowed himself to be ushered into the dining room, deceptively elegant in comparison to the rest of the house, with his deep, nearly crimson walls, dark like red silk tainted with black ink. He slid into a cherry wood chair and wondered that the most lavish room in the house seemed to get little or no use.
“I usually just eat in the kitchen,” Roy explained sheepishly, brushing dust from another chair.
“You don’t have to change your habits on my account.”
The radio still cried, soft and lulling in the other room, and it made for a soothing backdrop. Dinner was surprisingly relaxing, and Ed began to forget why he’d thought it was such an awful idea in the first place.
Afterwards, Ed had insisted on at least helping with the dishes, bemoaning the lack of alchemy (much to Roy’s amusement). It was nearly midnight before Ed realized the time.
“Al’s probably wondering where I am by now,” he sighed.
“Do you work your whole life around your brother?”
“He’s the only family I’ve got. We’ve stuck together for as long as I can remember. It’s hard to think of anything else when I spent years trying to fix him, and repair my mistake.”
“What will you do when he grows beyond that? I imagine eventually he’ll run off and get married or something. It’s normal for families to grow apart a bit,” Roy cautioned.
“I’ll adjust when the time comes. In the meantime, well… I just don’t want to worry him. It isn’t fair after all we’ve been through.”
“I think I understand,” Roy smiled ruefully, accompanying Ed to the door.
“Would you like a ride home?”
“No,” Ed answered. “It isn’t far. I’ll walk.”
“Thank you.”
“For what? You’re the one who made dinner.”
“For staying.”
“Oh, sure. Thanks for dinner. It was really…sweet of you.” Ed felt like he was tripping over the words, and Roy was so very close, and he wondered for a second if he might kiss him.
“Have a good night.” Roy leaned forward, lips brushing achingly lightly against his cheek, and he was choking for air. Nothing so innocent should shake him this way. He must have been in this ridiculous place for too long.
“You too,” Ed mumbled, finding his way out the door, forcing himself not to turn and look, to see if Roy was watching him make his way down the walk.
It was only once he was out of sight that he allowed himself to press flesh and blood fingertips to his cheek.
Instant cocoa was invented in 1935, and while cocoa powder was invented long before that, it often didn't produce the best results as far as hot chocolate went. The old fashioned way to make it was to scrape chocolate shavings from a big block and melt it in milk, letting the concoction steep for hours, and sometimes overnight to produce thick, chocolatey goodness.
Here's the library I was referring to a couple of chapters ago.
and here's the really ugly 1920's style kitchen that I was looking at while writing.
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: RoyxEd, Alter!RoyxEd
Author:
inugrlraynRating: NC-17 eventually
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or it's characters and all that jazz.
Author's note: This chapter is ridiculously sappy. I tried to stay as true to 1920's ideals regarding behavior and such as I could. Hopefully, it worked out alright. Also, there are some pictures at the end of the chapter and stuff.
Summary: Post movie. Ed has resigned himself to being stuck on our side of the Gate. Roy tries to find a way to bring him and Al home and the ensuing accident results in both a moral and emotional dilemma.
All Chapters Here
A quick call to the newspaper’s office confirmed that Roy indeed did not take Saturdays off, not even for Valentine’s Day. With a shake of his head, because god, what was he doing, Ed tugged on his coat and boots, giving his hair a quick run through with a brush before tugging it up in its usual ponytail and he was out the door.
It wasn’t a terribly long walk, and Ed found himself facing the tall, nondescript brick building before he was actually ready to be. He took a breath and started for the door. He was already here, he might as well go inside.
The office was very…office-like as far as Ed could tell. The floors were tiled, dark and nondescript, with whitewashed walls that made most of the building feel a little cramped to him, given that he was used to the observatory, with its wide open space. How anyone could work here was beyond him. It was like Central’s Headquarters, but there were fewer windows, less natural light.
“Can I help you, honey?” The woman behind the front desk smiled at him, held up one manicured finger as the phone rang and she answered. Despite her blouse and skirt, and the bobbed chestnut hair, she looked almost motherly.
“Sorry about that,” she offered, setting the phone back in it’s cradle.
“Is Roy…” Ed paused, watching as a smile crept across her lips.
“He should be leaving in a moment.”
Ed nodded, taking a seat to wait, and wondering if he was the butt of some sort of joke he happened to not be aware of.
She kept glancing up at him from the corner of her eye, when she thought he wasn’t looking, and while it didn’t seem malicious, it wasn’t terribly comfortable either.
“Is there something I should know?” He asked finally, frustrated with all the staring. “Jeez, what did he tell you that you keep looking at me like that?”
“Oh, don’t be mad at him. He didn’t say anything. I’m just nosey. He asked me to run an errand earlier, and I couldn’t resist looking to see who it was that had gotten his attention.”
The flowers. Ed blushed, wishing he had alchemy so that he might be able to sink into the floor.
“I was a little surprised, I mean, he usually, well… oh never mind. I can see why he likes you, though.” She was still talking, but Ed wasn’t really listening anymore, wishing someone would call so that she would stop embarrassing him more, would stop looking at him.
It occurred to him then, that even though this sort of thing was marginally accepted, it could still ruin a career, either of theirs, really. It was a ridiculous notion, given that nothing had happened, maybe nothing even would, but he was feeling very protective at the moment (not that he cared about Roy one way or the other) and he needed to know at least she wouldn’t tell the entire world.
“Umm, this isn’t really something that, it’s… there’s nothing really going on,” Ed insisted.
“Just that Roy’s taken enough with you to send you flowers on Valentine’s Day and you drop by an hour later?”
Ed squeezed his eyes shut. He never should have come here.
“You don’t have to worry, you know. Roy’s like a son to me. I won’t breathe a word.”
She was so sincere, Ed breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this wasn’t a total disaster after all.
“Have a good day, Mrs. Johnston,” Roy smiled as he headed for the door, noticing Ed on the way.
“Edward?”
“Last I checked.”
Now that Ed was over his own embarrassment, there was something very endearing, and the littlest bit amusing about the way Roy’s cheeks flushed with something like nervousness, like he was expecting to get the bouquet he’d sent smashed in his face or something.
“What are you…I didn’t expect to see you here.” Roy finally found his voice, and Ed decided that he was incredibly glad that this Roy and the other Roy were so very, very different.
“I came…” Ed paused. Why had he come, anyway?
“Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not sure what I was thinking.” Ed shook his head, laughing internally at the way he headed for the door and Roy followed, as if letting him out of his sight meant losing him to some chasm of nothingness.
“I came here to say thank you.” He wasn’t sure if that was exactly why he came, but those were the words he settled on, and Roy seemed to relax so much once he’d said it, so he let it be.
They walked in silence, and it didn’t actually occur to Ed to wonder where they were going until they’d reached what was apparently Roy’s car.
“Sooo.” The word was drawn out, and Roy shifted on his heels as if at a loss for whatever came next.
Ed thought of something, took a deep breath to speak, all in a rush before he could second guess himself. “Do you want go get something to eat?”
He was blushing and this was ridiculous. It was a terrible idea, such a terrible idea. It was Valentine’s Day though, and he did rather like Roy a little bit, and he had gotten Ed flowers after all.
Roy tugged open the door, and Ed slid into the passenger seat of the car, hoping the fact that he was still a little shocked at himself didn’t show too plainly. Roy didn’t seem to notice, though and the car was rumbling softly before he knew it.
“So, where to?” Roy asked, breaking the silence between them once more.
“Oh… You know, actually I hadn’t thought that far,” Ed admitted sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, and mentally cursing as the ponytail was tugged loose. He fumbled with it a moment, trying to shove the hair back in its band before he let out an exasperated noise and left it until he could see what he was doing.
He shot a glance over at Roy, who was very pointedly not looking at him while snickering into the hand that wasn’t on the wheel.
Roy was speaking before Ed could threaten to…do something awful in retribution, his amusement reigned in to a broad smile, and god how was he supposed to stay angry at that.
“You know, everywhere is going to be busy tonight.”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t generally do this sort of thing,” Ed mumbled. Amestris wasn’t particular given to making a commercial holiday out of celebrating love or whatever silliness this world was parading it as.
“What would you suggest?” he asked, finally. At least if it was a disaster, it would be Roy’s idea and not his.
Roy chewed at his lip, not so much as if he was trying to come up with an idea, but more as if he were working up the nerve to just spit it out.
“You could let me make you dinner,” he offered, finally.
Oh, this was a terrible idea, even more so because he knew it was an incredibly innocent suggestion. It just didn’t sound terribly innocent, because some part of him kept expecting the other Roy’s mannerisms to crop up, where nothing was actually terribly innocent. This world, though, everyone seemed so very uptight. He scrubbed a hand over his face, wondering what the hell he was getting himself dragged into.
“Are you okay? If you want to do something else…”
“No, no that’s fine. That sounds nice, thank you.” Ed forced a smile, forced himself not to think about how different this would be in another world, the one he’d come from. It would be what it would be, and some part of him was rather grateful because somehow jumping into bed with someone when you were just finally getting over someone else, someone you’d known only about a month no less, did not seem like the greatest idea.
And so, Ed resigned himself to make this the smallest disaster he possibly could.
“Out of curiosity, do you know how it drive?”
Ed considered the question, more wondering how it pertained to anything than debating whether to answer. “Yes. Why?”
“Just wondering. I’ve seen your brother drive, but you’re always walking everywhere, so I just wondered.”
“Well, I like walking.”
“Even out in the cold?”
“Well, back home, I was in the military,” Ed started to explain.
“Yes, you told me.”
“I was on the go all the time, you know? This world is so… confining. I feel like that’s at least a little bit of freedom that I still have, something that at least keeps me a little bit in shape, even if I’m not blowing things up for a living anymore.”
“You know, this world isn’t as confining as it seems. There are lots of places to go.”
“No, not confining like that. You have no idea what it’s like to go from…so much power at your fingertips to absolutely nothing.” Roy was looking at him like he wanted very much to understand, and really had no idea what he was talking about.
“Okay, you write because you love it, right?” Roy nodded.
“Okay, think of what it would be like to end up somewhere, where all of a sudden you weren’t good at it anymore. You tried, and you just couldn’t, and there was no way to fix it because writing didn’t even exist in the world you’d ended up in, so everyone just thought you were a lunatic.” Ed searched Roy’s eyes for some sort of comprehension, relieved to find it eventually, and irritated at the sympathy that followed.
“I’m sorry, Ed.”
Ed shrugged. “Some things in this world aren’t so bad.”
X
Roy’s house was small, a one story affair with whitewashed siding and deep blue shutters at the windows. There was a little porch that ran the front of the house, concrete with stone half walls around it except for where the steps ran up. It looked rather welcoming, actually.
Ed looked around as Roy sorted through his keys, and the untouched snow in the yard, save for a shoveled walk, made him itch to go play in it. He shook his head, because honestly he ought to have outgrown that by now.
“Are you coming in?” Roy’s voice brought him back to the present, and he stepped inside the little foyer, pausing to toe off his snow covered boots. Roy was close, so close he could smell his shampoo, and he forced himself not to just close his eyes and drink it in. Roy took his coat, fingers brushing in what was most likely an accident, against Ed’s wrist, and what was it about this place that was making him so absolutely silly. It was just his wrist, after all.
Roy gently shooed him into the living room and over to a low, black and gray striped couch. It was terribly soft, and gave under him until he thought he could probably fall asleep right there, but that would be sort of rude.
“Hot chocolate?” Roy asked, heading for the kitchen.
“Sure?” Ed really hadn’t ever bothered to try it, and figured now was as good a time as any. He thought to ask what was in it, but decided Roy probably wouldn’t offer him something terribly awful.
A few minutes later, Roy hadn’t returned, and Ed cautiously padded the way he’d gone, ending up in the kitchen. Roy was at the stove in the cramped little room, stirring something, and eventually curiosity got the better of him.
“That was quick,” he commented, gesturing towards the almost bubbling liquid from where he leaned against the porcelain sink behind Roy.
“Not really, it’s been steeping all day.”
“What’s in it?” Ed asked finally. He had his suspicions, but it did smell good, so he thought he just might try it anyway.
Roy didn’t answer, pouring the contents of the pot into two mugs, and offering one to him.
“Just try it,” Roy prodded, pressing the cup into Ed’s palms.
Warily, Ed brought it to his lips, a cursory sip informed him that it indeed was not particularly vile. Actually, it was pretty good, sort of like warm chocolate pudding that was just barely starting to set, thick and creamy.
Roy watched in amusement as Ed’s lips quirked in the briefest of smiles, sighing contentedly into the mug.
“This has milk in it doesn’t it?” He didn’t actually remember ever telling Roy of his dislike for milk, but then, it was such a common irritation for him, that it was entirely likely he knew anyway. Roy was smiling rather mischievously at him, and he didn’t actually have to wait for an answer.
He supposed, though, that he’d drink it anyway. It was sort of like stew, created by some genius who knew how to make something out of milk that wasn’t disgusting.
Ed watched silently as Roy moved the now empty pot aside, rolling up his sleeves and setting to work on what Ed assumed was dinner.
“Do you want some help?” He felt vaguely guilty standing there watching Roy do all the work, but the only response he got was a head shaking in the negative.
“You’re my guest. Just relax.” Roy waved at a small table that was set in the only open spot in the kitchen, and Ed plopped down in a chair.
There was something very comfortable about all this, sitting in Roy’s kitchen with only the music lilting from the radio and Roy’s humming between them. It was sort of domestic, in a way Ed hadn’t ever thought he’d want, still wasn’t sure if maybe he was just attracted to the novelty of it, but it was nice, anyway.
The Roy he’d known on the other side of the gate had no inclination whatsoever to cook. In fact, anything that could be construed as homely, aside from cleaning the windows in his office (which was rather comical), was regarded as some sort of cardinal sin against his being. He had a maid who came twice a week, and he was rarely home enough for it to matter beyond that, and the few times Ed had had dinner with him, it was take out or Ed cooked or anything that did not involve any actual work on Roy’s part.
He supposed it shouldn’t surprise him that this Roy was so much more domestic. Without the responsibilities the other Roy had had dropped on his shoulders in the war, he might have been the same. That had been the spark that made him need to change the world, that had driven his ambitions. This Roy seemed rather content to just be, and Ed found himself hoping, for Roy’s sake, that he’d always be able to hang onto that, because, from all appearances, he was happy.
“You know, you know all sorts of things about me, and I hardly know a thing about you,” Ed pointed out in a lull between songs.
“You know things about me,” Roy corrected. “You know that I went to school here, and that I write for the newspaper, and you know that I like to spend time down by the river, and how I drink my coffee… and that I can cook.”
“That has yet to be determined,” Ed muttered good naturedly. Roy looked at him with something bordering on fondness.
“You do make good hot chocolate,” Ed amended.
“You know that you’re rather an exception to… my usual habits.”
Ed laughed at that, “You make it sound like you’ve got a new girlfriend every week or something.”
It was hard not to laugh more at the way Roy stared at him in something like embarrassed horror, because Ed knew it hadn’t been meant that way, but it did sound like it.
“And you’re a terrible sap.”
“There is a difference between sappy and romantic,” Roy countered.
“My landlady was practically leering at me over those flowers. They were sappy… and did you see the way your secretary was giggling?” Ed fumed.
“Sorry about that.”
“Eh, it’s okay I guess.” Ed let the conversation die down, watching as Roy was lost in the music, though it wasn’t terribly obvious save for the contented expression on his face.
It was then that Ed realized he never had managed to fix the ponytail. He tugged his gloves from his fingers and plucked the tie from his hair, smoothing it with his hands until it fell evenly at his shoulders. Roy stared at him for a moment, and then looked away, stirring at whatever it was he was making as if he’s been watching something he had no right to see.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I’m fine.” Roy was silent for a moment. “You look nice like that.”
Ed considered the statement. Normally, he put it up because it looked less, well he just put it up out of habit. It was often in the way after all. He supposed he could leave it down, though, just this once.
X
Whatever else might be said about the man, Ed had to admit that Roy was a good cook after all, not that spaghetti was a terribly difficult thing to make. He allowed himself to be ushered into the dining room, deceptively elegant in comparison to the rest of the house, with his deep, nearly crimson walls, dark like red silk tainted with black ink. He slid into a cherry wood chair and wondered that the most lavish room in the house seemed to get little or no use.
“I usually just eat in the kitchen,” Roy explained sheepishly, brushing dust from another chair.
“You don’t have to change your habits on my account.”
The radio still cried, soft and lulling in the other room, and it made for a soothing backdrop. Dinner was surprisingly relaxing, and Ed began to forget why he’d thought it was such an awful idea in the first place.
Afterwards, Ed had insisted on at least helping with the dishes, bemoaning the lack of alchemy (much to Roy’s amusement). It was nearly midnight before Ed realized the time.
“Al’s probably wondering where I am by now,” he sighed.
“Do you work your whole life around your brother?”
“He’s the only family I’ve got. We’ve stuck together for as long as I can remember. It’s hard to think of anything else when I spent years trying to fix him, and repair my mistake.”
“What will you do when he grows beyond that? I imagine eventually he’ll run off and get married or something. It’s normal for families to grow apart a bit,” Roy cautioned.
“I’ll adjust when the time comes. In the meantime, well… I just don’t want to worry him. It isn’t fair after all we’ve been through.”
“I think I understand,” Roy smiled ruefully, accompanying Ed to the door.
“Would you like a ride home?”
“No,” Ed answered. “It isn’t far. I’ll walk.”
“Thank you.”
“For what? You’re the one who made dinner.”
“For staying.”
“Oh, sure. Thanks for dinner. It was really…sweet of you.” Ed felt like he was tripping over the words, and Roy was so very close, and he wondered for a second if he might kiss him.
“Have a good night.” Roy leaned forward, lips brushing achingly lightly against his cheek, and he was choking for air. Nothing so innocent should shake him this way. He must have been in this ridiculous place for too long.
“You too,” Ed mumbled, finding his way out the door, forcing himself not to turn and look, to see if Roy was watching him make his way down the walk.
It was only once he was out of sight that he allowed himself to press flesh and blood fingertips to his cheek.
Instant cocoa was invented in 1935, and while cocoa powder was invented long before that, it often didn't produce the best results as far as hot chocolate went. The old fashioned way to make it was to scrape chocolate shavings from a big block and melt it in milk, letting the concoction steep for hours, and sometimes overnight to produce thick, chocolatey goodness.
Here's the library I was referring to a couple of chapters ago.
and here's the really ugly 1920's style kitchen that I was looking at while writing.
19 comments | Leave a comment