Prompt: 100moods #1 Accomplished
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or it's characters and all that jazz.
Author's Note: I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I actually wrote this as a little bit of very belated birthday fluff for zakai_, and it happened to fit one of my prompts that I'd been stewing over.
Four years on the other side of the Gate had taught Edward many things. He’d learned how to build an airplane, and a rocket for that matter, and was currently working on the former in the Rockbell’s backyard, with a promise to remove it as soon as it was mobile, or let Winry play with it, which was what would probably happen in the end anyway. Al would see though, it really was the coolest thing ever.
He learned that no matter how long it took, perseverance paid off. After all, here he was, back in Rizembul. Though it had taken him four years to make it home, the point was, he was home.
Four years was a long time to spend away from loved ones, and in the downtime, he thought about a lot of things. He wondered what Al looked like now, if he and Winry had gotten married and gone on with their lives without him. He wondered if Roy had succeeded, and Roy had to have succeeded because the alternatives were unacceptable. He wondered why two years into his exile, he started to wish he’d kissed Roy, just once so he’d know what it was like. The other side of the Gate taught Edward what it was to miss someone who wasn’t family.
The moment things had settled, and he was done being elated that he was indeed home in time for Al and Winry’s wedding, he asked after Roy, relieved to find the man was still at least intact.
It was tempting to march right back to Central, to bluster into Roy’s office just the way he used to, flashy and loud, and maybe he could hide his feelings a little longer behind his ego. Heck, a few more weeks and he could fly into Central. Then again, that might be an awful idea. They might drag him back to the military, kicking and screaming, when all he wanted was to surprise Roy.
When had he become Roy, and not Colonel Bastard, or Mustang? No matter, he had an idea, and went about discerning all the pertinent information to carry out his plan. Al called Central, spoke to Hawkeye to find out the date in question, and if anyone suspected a thing, no one spoke a word of it.
Two months of nearly tearing out his hair, though, and the time came. He hopped the first train back to Central.
Headquarters looked different, though from what Al had said, the building had been practically razed, toppled to the ground in a heap of rubble. Beyond that, Central looked just about the way he’d left it.
Ed found himself intensely grateful for having a brother like Al. No one thought twice about answering his questions, and even Roy’s address hadn’t been a difficult thing to finagle. He owed Al for the fact that he was quietly strolling down the sidewalk in the dark, heading for his former superior’s front door.
He was nearly there, drinking in the wind that blew, warm and gentle all around him. It felt no different from the wind on the other side, but it was home, and that made all the difference in the world. Ed smiled slightly, stopping halfway up Roy’s walkway to just look.
The house seemed an extension of Roy’s façade. It was larger than any single man needed, and for a moment, Ed worried that maybe he had gone off and gotten married, or had a girlfriend, or that he might be interrupting something. It was the man’s birthday after all. In the end, he decided to take his chances. He could hardly see the brickwork in the dark, but it was there, orderly and severe, though Ed was sure it was stunning in daylight.
As it was, light shone from one of the downstairs rooms, sheer curtains doing nothing to shield it from the outside world. It looked like an office of sorts, and Ed sucked in a breath. There sat Roy, throwing his head back, a glass to his lips, before setting it down with a clink that Ed had to have imagined, but swore he heard anyway. It seemed cruel and dishonest to stand out here any longer, just watching, and so Ed hurried up the walk, knocking on the door before he could lose his nerve.
Five minutes and Ed did lose his nerve. One could only stand on Roy’s step for so long before it just seemed silly, and he turned to leave. He was half down the steps before there was a soft clicking sound behind him.
Ed turned just as Roy pulled the door open, scowling at being disturbed at nearly midnight. Neither of them managed a word, but there was a distinct thud and clatter of a falling, breaking glass, a splash as whiskey scattered in drops the color of Edward’s eyes across the foyer floor.
“E…Edward? Is that you?” Roy rubbed at his only eye with the back of a fist like he thought he might have had too much to drink this time, and Ed fought the urge to ask what had happened to require the patch.
Whatever Ed had planned to say, to convince Roy that giving him a chance was a good idea caught in his throat, and he nearly stumbled into the hallway the moment Roy flung the screen door open.
He tried visibly to reign in his expression, to school the shock and elation off his face, but he’d had just enough whisky to loosen his walls and all that remained was a soft peal of laughter and arms that squeezed Ed until he couldn’t breathe.
“Spending your birthday alone?” Ed asked finally, grasping at wispy thoughts for something of what he’d actually planned to say, unable to move past the fact that at least he’d accomplished his mission to completely shock Mustang.
“I went out earlier, if you must know,” Roy responded in amusement, gaze still locked on Ed as if a turn of the head and he’d be gone, faded back into the unknown.
“Sorry I didn’t bring you a present. I…” Ed tried sheepishly to explain.
“No,” Roy stopped him.
“You did bring me something.” Roy dragged a palm over his face, trying to clear his head.
Slowly, Ed understood his meaning, and a broad grin inched across his lips.
“Happy birthday,” Ed offered, biting his lip and gathering his courage as Roy headed for what might possibly be the living room.
“Would you like some coffee?” Roy asked, and Ed suspected it was an excuse to turn around to make sure he was really there.
“I… hey wait, please.” Ed fought not to sound like he was begging, but he’d finally gathered the courage to move and it was now or never.
Roy turned, regarded him in confusion, and then surprise as Ed moved closer, grabbed the front of his button down shirt, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. It was there and then gone, like debris in the wind, but it was real and Roy’s remaining eye shone with something Ed couldn’t quite decipher.
“I…” Roy began.
“I’ve been waiting three and a half years for that… I didn’t even realize I wanted to until I’d been gone for a while and of course it was too late, and I’m sorry I guess I should have asked…I just.” Whatever excuses Ed was going to make were muffled in tender, desperate, devouring kisses that mapped the insides of his mouth, danced with his tongue. Fingers combed frantic lines through his hair, that he’d left down to make sure he got to surprise Roy to begin with.
When Roy finally released him, he pressed his forehead to Ed’s, half chuckling as he panted, gasping for breath.
“Happy birthday, indeed.”