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“This is just another ploy by the military to undermine those in the academy and delegitimize our work the moment we step out of line from the military’s prerogative.” The old man that Roy had been “civilly discussing” with ground out between clenched teeth.
The night was meant for connection and the figuratively passing an olive branch from the military to the academy to mend the bridges the last 200 years of warmongering and silencing academics had quite thoroughly destroyed. Except that all the academics could tell that the military was headhunting for the quasi-military, quasi-civilian department of alchemy the military was installing for civil service projects. Ed hadn’t missed the way the civilian alchemist's scowls would deepen when Roy would approach in his military blues and fancy medals shining. Roy evidently hadn’t missed it either by the way his grip was tight on his glass and his one eyebrow was stiff the same way it always got when he was losing composure.
Ed cuts into the conversation “I think, you think the military cares more about you than they do. Excuse us.” He places his hand flat on Roy’s back and immediately begins guiding him towards the bar. Thank god the thing was being held in the Armstrong estate and they never cheap out on anything, including the open bar. Ed could hear the man spluttering behind them as he and Roy made their leave. Open bars, Ed was sure, were made give people a real life time-out zone to escape stupid parties.
“I can dress you up, but I can’t take you anywhere.” Roy lightly chides as he peers down at Edward, irritation in his voice evident, and only further proving the point it was better to get Roy out of there before he really did snap, smash his glass against the guy’s head and run off into the night.
“So you agree, this is appropriately dressed up?” Edward challenges with a smirk. Roy had only managed to get him into jeans, a button-up and a blazer before leaving the house as opposed to the full tux that Roy had been trying to wrangle him into.
The look of mild homicidal ideation was now firmly directed at Ed.
They reach the bar and Ed folds himself across it and smiles faintly up at Roy through his eyelashes as Roy leans beside him.
Roy flags down the barkeep and orders for both himself and Ed. Roy had years of experience growing up in a bar whereas Ed’s main experiences with ordering alcohol normally entailed him picking randomly off a menu and never being happy with what he got.
“That was Dr. Micheal Peterson the Dean of Alchemy at UofC,” Roy tells him sternly playing the pointed non-sequitur game.
“That’s even worse that you spent so long arguing with him, the guy will never agree with you, no matter what you do, and also ” Ed states with emphasis, “The guy is an idiot. Did you see the paper he published last year on changing ratios? It was horseshit.”
Roy sighs, “I suppose you would be the expert on horsehit, bumpkin boy.”
Ed scowls at him, “City boys who are too scared to step off the path in fear of stepping in sheep shit every time we go back to see family, do not get to criticize me for recognizing horseshit when I see it.” Ed could see the telltale quirk in the corner of Roy’s lips that says that he is very amused.
“No criticism here, just a fervent respect for your superior shit detecting abilities instilled by the only quaintest of upbringings.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“Undoubtedly.”
The waiter drops off their drinks, Roy had some form of clear liquor on the rocks, Ed could only assume it was turpentine knowing Roy had presumably burned all his taste buds off in adolescence or simply through how he took his coffee.
Ed’s drink was orange, he took a sip.
“Did you fucking order me orange juice?”
Roy’s shoulders shake slightly with repressed laughter.
“You bastard!” Ed shouts at him, already putting the drink on the table and reaching to grab Roy’s tux jacket to shake some sense into the asshole.
Roy foresaw Ed’s attack and grabbed both of Ed’s hands in his own, and shook his head, “It’s called a screwdriver, Ed. There’s vodka in it too.”
“Oh,” Ed says, and yeah, okay, that checks. Ed twisted his hands in Roy’s grip, yanking one out while changing the other to be a more traditional handheld and letting their hands rest across the bar in what was only a slightly awkward position.
Roy’s looking across the floor now, most likely going back to taking stock of the people he still needs to talk to. Knowing him, he probably is already making plans to go back and apologize to Peterson on Ed’s behalf which is just really stupid on all accounts nonetheless because Ed wasn’t sorry.
Roy catches Ed looking at him and gives him one of the stupid smug smirks and raises his eyebrows. Ed scowls back at him much to Roy’s amusement.
“Was there actually something you needed from me? Or do you just enjoy disrupting my work?”
Ed takes a moment before answering, Roy already looked slightly less tense than before. “You just looked like you needed a break for a moment.”
Roy’s smarmy smirk fell away for a second and was replaced with the stupid soft smile that never fails to turn Ed’s insides into wiggling worms.
Roy squeezes Ed’s hand, “I don’t tell you often enough, how much I appreciate what you do for me, do I? Thank you, Edward.”
Ed felt his face flushing red. He managed to gruff out, “Yeah well, I can’t have you snapping and killing some washed-out academic, can I?”
Roy lets out a huff of a laugh, “Snapping indeed.”
“I said what I said,” Ed agrees, taking credit for the pun he did not in fact intend. “Besides, I have spent too much time training you to give me massages, and to stop hogging the sheets. I can’t put that same time commitment into another person.”
Roy gives a stronger laugh this time, and lets go of Ed's hand to pull him into a kiss. When they split apart the look Roy gives him is so fond and exasperated Ed can’t help to press their lips together again.
Roy breaks the kiss and leans in and presses his lips against Ed’s ear like he’s about to tell him a secret. “Sweetheart,” Roy murmurs. Ed does his best to repress the shudder that goes down his spine knowing Roy would be able to feel it if he did. “You are only 34, I am pushing 49. If we don’t work out, I assure you, you are not going to be one of us dying alone.” Ed couldn’t repress the shudder the second time and felt Roy’s hot breath against his ear as he chuckled at Ed.
Roy leans back, and Ed looks around trying desperately to get whatever face he’s making off his face. The bartender has obviously been staring at their little spectacle and when Ed makes eye contact, the girl turns around so fast she knocks over a bottle of spirits. Good, at least Ed wasn’t the only person embarrassed here.
Ed didn’t like the thought of him and Roy splitting up, and especially of him being with someone else, or even god forbid Roy being alone with his thoughts and his guilt again. Roy would always have Riza but sometimes they fed off of each other, creating cycles of guilt and pain. Ed thinks they both have been happier recently, between advancements in work and healthier relationships but Ed couldn’t imagine them going back to the way things were. Well, neither are getting any younger.
Ed looked up at Roy who was working on his glass of turpentine and obviously preparing to go back to braving the masses. Ed swallows hard and this time it's his turn to grab both of their hands together pulling Roy’s attention back to him.
“So you agree, we are it. There’s no other relationship you would rather have?”
Roy gives him a bemused sort of smile and studies Ed for a few moments, obviously trying to read Ed’s intent. “I guess so,” Roy says finally, which wasn’t exactly the rousing answer Ed had looked for. It must have shown on his face or Roy simply decided to commit to the conversation because he gives Ed’s hands another squeeze and says with a lot more conviction, “yes, Ed. You’re it. You have ruined me for other relationships, there is no possible way I could go back to dating other people after having been with you.”
Oh look, the worms are back. Ed nods and swallows hard. “Right, same here.” Roy probably understands why his voice is so rough. “So...” Ed trails off losing his nerve quickly.
“So?”
“So... we should commit to, you know, not arguing.”
Roy laughs, “You don’t want us to argue anymore? That’s a losing fight if I ever heard one.”
“No!” Ed says louder than intended, surely Roy has to know what he means, “Just.. we should stay together, you know? Take care of each other, no matter what you know.”
Roy just looks at him with this blank look on his face and Ed feels his flushing with embarrassment and vague short of humiliation. He lets go of Roy’s hands and changes direction to start drinking from his orange juice, determined not to look Roy in the eyes again until his heart stops feeling so much like lead in his chest. He could feel Roy staring at him.
“Ed-” Roy starts.
“This orange juice tastes like shit,” Ed tells him.
“What? I already told you, it’s a screwdriver.”
“I’ll give you a screw driver later,” Ed promises, brain firing blanks on witty ways to get Roy to shut up.
“Ed,” Roy says again and makes to grab Ed’s hands again who manages to twist his body away from Roy, gripping his cup with both hands as a defence mechanism. “Jesus, you are grabby today.” He looks down at the bar, a woman had just sat down beside them and turned so her back was to them. She had dropped her hor d'oeuvres plate with Armstrong's stupid monogrammed cutlery on the bartop probably for the bartender to clean up, despite the fact it was very much not the bar tender’s job to deal with the dishes from the catering.
“Ed,” Roy says exasperated beside him, “Did you want to get married?”
Ed could hear his chest thundering, threatening to deafen him. His heart might be in his throat, “Do you?”
Roy was silent for a second before he reached for Ed’s hands this time Ed didn’t fight him. “Edward,” Roy says and Ed finally meets his eye. “I used to think I didn’t want to, really, I just didn’t think it was something I was allowed to have or want after the things I have done. I didn’t think I deserved to fall in love, to be happy, to get married. Yet you came into my life, beautiful, blond, and 25, and as always blasted all my expectations for my life out of the water.”
Worms: can’t live with them, can’t live without Roy. Guess Ed will just have to marry the fucker.
“Bastard,” Ed says looking him in the eye trying to keep the wobble out of his voice, “No one deserves shit, you earn it, and god doesn’t care what you do.” Ed takes a deep breath, “so you should just.. do your best for others and yourself.”
That stupid wibbly-wobbly smile is on Roy’s face.
“I guess so,” Roy agrees.
“Yeah,” Ed says definitively.
Roy leans forward, their knees bonk together and he presses another Ed into another kiss. Roy rests his forehead against Ed’s.
“Edward, will you marry me?”
“Shit, you are needy,” Edward grouses but doesn’t bother hiding his smile. “Guess, I gotta, as you said, no one else is gonna put up with your ass.” Ed smirk widens as he feels Roys huff of exasperation blow across his face. “Yeah, bastard, let’s get married.”
Ed presses their lips together. Roy pulls away and looks past Ed and smiles charmingly at the, again, blatantly staring bartender. The bartender turns away again once she was forced to make direct eye contact with Roy when he was doing his best “I’m a friendly general” face.
“Great place to have this conversation, Ed,” Roy remarks dryly. “I think it was the romantic atmosphere that sold it for me.” He gestures dryly around to the bustle of academics and soldiers they were surrounded by.
“And you said I don't have a romantic bone in my body,” Ed laughs.
“I have very obviously been proven wrong,” Roy agrees, “It was simply hiding behind your obfuscation bone, an easy mistake to make.”
“I’ll give you a bone later,” Ed threatens.
Roy’s shoulders are shaking again.
“If you plan to propose, aren't you supposed to have a ring?” Ed demands.
Roy’s shoulders shake harder, he covers his face with his hands. When he looks up his face has a light flush and from laughter and the most fondly exasperated look. He grabs Ed’s face in his hands and smooshes his cheeks together. The ignition cloth was scratchy against Ed's cheeks. “You are such a fucking nightmare, it’s a wonder that I am going to marry you. I think the keyword is supposed to be planned as opposed to taking a blunt force trauma approach to a marriage proposal made in the middle of a work event.”
Edward tries his best to contort his face into a scowl but it's hard to do when his cheeks are being pressed together. He pulls his face from Roy’s grip and rubs away the scratchy feeling with the back of his hand. Ed musters another disgruntled look before catching the sight of Armstrong’s stupid cutlery.
“I can’t believe I have to do everything myself.” He grumbles too loudly to be truly addressing himself.
Ed knicks the fork off the lady’s plate and examines it, true to Armstrong opulence it was pure silver. He presses his hands together around the fork letting two rings form and letting the excess silver drop on top of the bar. He grabs Roy’s hand and pulls his gloves off of Roy’s hand much to Roy’s bemusement and tries to jam the ring onto Roy’s finger. There was about a spare centimetre of excess band.
“Your fingers are stupid and dainty,” Ed tells him firmly. They weren’t really, they were pretty nice hands all things considered but no way in hell would he tell Roy that. So Ed takes the ring off and with a couple of reworkings, the ring fits onto Roys stupidly attractive finger. He does the same with his own ring.
“Ed, did you make our engagement rings out of someone else's dirty fork?”
“I alchemized everything that wasn’t pure silver off, relax.” Roy pulls the ring off and examines the ring that Ed had so thoughtfully made for him.
“Ed, you left the Armstrong family crest on my ring.”
“People engrave their rings all the time.”
“Not with other people’s initials!”
“But honey, I transmuted this with love and petty theft in mind.” Roy’s eye’s threaten to roll out of his head but puts the ring on anyways.
“This party kind of sucks,” Ed tells him.
Roy looks at him and raises both eyebrows, “It’s not a party, it’s work, technically.”
“Yeah, well, I mean I’m just worried about how thorough the threat analysis was for this place.”
Roy's eyebrows raise even higher, “Is that right?”
“Yeah,” Ed agrees, standing from his bar stool and leaning into Roy’s space. “There’s a lot of empty rooms in this place. There could be someone hiding in one if we don’t check it out.”
The smirk that cut across Roy's face made Ed want to squirm. “That’s very astute of you Edward, however, I wouldn’t want our friends out here to miss us while we were gone.”
Edward bite his lip, “You know,” Ed starts, “Riza’s not here and I won’t tell her if you don’t.”
The orange juice and turpentine were both respectfully left at the bar.