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“These people are horrible.”
Roy caught his smile just before it surfaced and instead turned an impassive glance on Ed. “These people voted for me.”
“Huh. So they’re stupid, too.” Ed shifted on his feet as his eyes scanned the crowd and Roy had a moment’s regret that he hadn’t been able to talk Ed into wearing a tux. “How much longer do we have to stay?”
“At least an hour. There are going to be speeches later, extolling my virtues.” This was the nice part of his job, when he got to stand around and listen to everyone tell him how wonderful he was. It was almost enough to balance out the death threats and that one time he’d been spit on.
“Yeah, ‘cause what you need is more people telling you how great you are.” Ed rolled his eyes. The quartet started up on the stage and couples filtered out to dance. “Oh, good. Music.”
“I don’t suppose—“
“I’m not fucking dancing.”
He hadn’t really expected anything else, but he still affected a sad sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to find myself a willing partner.”
Ed grabbed his arm as Roy began to move away. “Proper distance, asshole. You wouldn’t want me to have to make your ‘willing partner’ bleed.”
Roy dropped him a wink and offered his arm to the nearest pretty thing for a dance. For as much as Ed hated these kinds of functions, Roy had grown to like them. There was an easy mindlessness to the routine of putting on a performance for a group this large. He knew when to smile, when to laugh at a lame joke, which dignitaries’ wives to dance with, which to avoid. He was well schooled in presenting the proper façade, and at this point in his life and career, it was really no hardship, especially when the food was good. However, he’d spent so much time perfecting the mask, sometimes it made it hard for him to remember to be himself when he was alone with Ed. It had become easier to be a face in front of thousands than a single man in front of one.
For nearly an hour, he danced and made small talk with important women and the wives of important men. They sparkled in the lights, their faces made up heavily and their laughter forced and calculated. The women in his arms knew the game as well as he did, though he suspected none of them found the same ease in it. And all the while, he could feel Ed’s presence on the edge of his perception. Always at his back, always just within reach, Ed stood, his arms crossed and his eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of aggression.
It was strange, he thought, how he could be surrounded by people, how he could involve himself in their conversations, move through their ranks and still always know where Ed was. Even though he had different women in his arms, it was almost as though he was dancing with Ed. Every turn he made, every step he took, every smile was in full view of Ed. He would be in the midst of a conversation and Ed’s hair would flash gold, reminding him to whom he belonged.
At the end of his hour, he bowed to the latest partner, gifting her with an appropriately tame rakish grin. On instinct, his body a compass to Ed’s north, Roy turned and crossed the room to Ed’s side. “Are you sure you don’t want—“
“Yeah, ‘cause what would be awesome is you getting shot in the back because you decided you just needed to have one dance with me.” Ed rolled his eyes and handed over a glass of wine, properly watered down because for all his youthful exuberance, Ed was a bit of a prude.
“No one would care.” It wasn’t that Ed didn’t think there was a possibility of assassins at every turn, but dancing with Roy in public was a more complicated issue.
Ed took a long sip of his own water, handing if off to a passing waiter with thoughtless grace. “Like I give a fuck what any of these assholes thinks.”
Roy laughed, a quiet huff for Ed’s ears alone. “Don’t I know it.” He reached out, and let his hand rest on Ed’s arm, the cool weight of the automail unyielding beneath his fingers. That was the reason Ed wouldn’t dance with him in public, and Roy couldn’t bring himself to blame him.
“Besides, what kind of fear am I supposed to strike into their hearts if they see you trying to sweep me across the dance floor?”
***
“Some of us like things, brother. Things like books and pictures and mementos to remind us of the people we love.” Where the hell Al had learned that condescending tone was a mystery to Ed.
“The books I understand. I hate to think about what we’re going to do when we have to move out of the manor, but this crap, come on, Al. It’s a clay figure of a pony. I had no idea when I got your body back I’d accidentally brought you back as a girl.”
Al let out a careful sigh, placed his own box with exacting precision next to Ed’s and launched himself at Ed. Ed let out a yelp and tried to scramble out of the way, but Al was faster and stronger and had him pinned to the floor in a second. “What was that, brother? I couldn’t hear you. Were you saying something about how you’d be happy to help me bring in the rest of the boxes without another complaint? Or did you say that I’m the king of the universe?” Al leaned with all of his considerable weight and strength, keeping Ed in place. “Why don’t you repeat yourself? Go on, say ‘Al’s the king of the universe’ and maybe I’ll let you up to help me move boxes.”
Ed struggled, straining with everything he had to just get his hands together for one good clap, but Al had him well and truly stuck. He was thankful that Roy hadn’t been able to help with the move; if he saw how quickly Al could take him out, Roy’d probably try to hire Al as his bodyguard instead. “Get off. I’m not saying a fucking thing.”
“What are you two doing? We have half the house left to move and you’re rolling around on the floor?” Hawkeye’s voice cut through the room and their confrontation with exacting precision.
Ed grinned up at Al and turned his pleading eyes on Hawkeye. “I was just trying to help and now Al won’t let me up and finish.”
Ed saw Hawkeye’s hand twitch toward her waist, obviously wishing for her firearm and Ed had never been so glad that she didn’t have it. “We don’t have time for this kind of thing. Ed, tell Al he’s the king of the universe and get up off the floor. I want to be done before dark.”
She swept from the room and if it was possible, Al’s grin grew even broader. “You heard her, brother. Six little words and it’ll all be over.”
“You’re my least favorite brother.”
“Close, but less like you’re a sore loser and more like I win.”
Ed averted his eyes, muttered the phrase and waited, sure Al would make him scream the words at the top of his voice. Instead, Al made a pleased little humming sound and jumped up, offering a hand to Ed.
“See, now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Al’s hand was warm in his own, soft flesh and flowing blood. “I guess not.”
***
Ed rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder against Havoc’s. The two of them were currently on their backs underneath Roy’s car, combing through the mechanics of the thing, looking for anything that might be out of place. Havoc had strict instructions to look for signs of tampering on a daily basis, but Ed liked to do a more thorough inspection once a week. Just to be safe.
“Don’t you have important Prime Minister-type things to do, you know, inside? Maybe in a room with no windows?” Ed glanced to the side and saw Roy’s feet stop next to the car and in the distance, three other sets of feet belonging to his guards.
“I’m surrounded by men with weapons and I know you’ve got snipers on the roof. I think I can walk around my own driveway.” Roy’s face appeared under the car as he peered at them. “I thought I told you specifically to keep all repairs off the main grounds.”
Havoc shifted uncomfortably. “I really don’t want to get in the middle of this.”
“It seems pretty simple to me. I’m the Prime Minister. You do as I say.”
Ed scooted a little further back, checking some hoses. “You just never get tired of saying that, do you? And he does do as you say. Unless it’s a matter of security, in which case, I outrank you.”
“An oil change is national security?”
“It is if someone has tampered with your car in hopes of blowing you and possibly me up.”
Roy opened his mouth, and then closed it again, repeating the process once more before speaking. “There’ve been problems with the car?”
“We’re just being cautious.” As much as Ed wanted Roy to take his security seriously, as much as he wanted to use the incidents they’d already prevented to wake Roy up to the very real possibilities of danger, there was something in Roy’s expression, something surprisingly vulnerable that made Ed want to wrap Roy up away from it all. The best he could do, though, was keep the shit off his desk and not tell him about the problems they’d found and dealt with.
“Well, there was that—“ Ed elbowed Havoc hard in the ribs to shut him up.
“Ed?”
“Don’t worry. This is nothing for you to worry about. I just like to be sure, all right?” Ed tried desperately to think of something that would distract Roy, to keep him away from the car and away from thinking about all the possible narrow escapes he’d never known anything about. It wasn’t so much that Ed was keen on secrets; he just didn’t think Roy needed to know, to have such physical proof of how much some people hated him. “I thought you had a meeting with Hughes.”
“He canceled. Apparently there’s some meeting he needs to sit in on. We’re doing it later this afternoon.” Roy knelt on the ground next to the car, mindless of his expensive slacks. “What are you looking for?”
“Nothing in particular.” He reached his automail arm over his head to hold a hose in place while he ran his flesh fingers over the material when he heard a distinctive pop and then a little metal pling just a second before pain exploded through the nerves of his automail arm.
The pain, fiery, intense and raw, was so sudden, so unexpected, Ed couldn’t stifle the scream that erupted from his throat. His mind was blank white with pain and he could hear nothing but roaring in his own ears. Hands held him, and every touch sent agony rippling through his body, pain like he hadn’t felt in years. It stole his breath and his voice, his everything.
And then there was Roy. Roy’s hands on either side of his face. Roy’s face so close he could see where he missed a small strip of hair during his morning shave. He could feel Roy’s breath on his face as Roy’s eyes pinned him in place and pulled him out of the pain. “What do I do? What’s wrong?” Roy’s voice was hoarse as if he’d been the one screaming and Ed focused all of himself on that voice, on answering that voice.
“Automail. Get it off, get it off, get it off, get it off,” he chanted, trying to keep even the very tip of his head above the pain. He felt Roy’s hands cradling his arm, but even the slightest touch sent waves of agony roiling through him. Then there was the snap and release as his automail was disconnected, the discomfort of removal lost in the agony of burning nerves.
His agony receded, but didn’t disappear. It cooled enough for Ed to see he’d been pulled from beneath the car and had attracted quite an audience. Most of Roy’s guards were watching him instead of Roy, and he snarled in their direction. “If you don’t want to be fired right now, you’ll make sure you’re watching the right person.”
He dropped his head back onto the cement of the driveway, trying to relax, to breath through the pain. With a hard swallow against the nausea rising in his gut, Ed turned to Roy, who was kneeling at his side, Ed’s automail clutched tightly in his hands. He looked pale and worried but Ed didn’t have the inclination to soothe him. “We’re going to have to call Al.” He swallowed again, but it didn’t seem to help. “And I think I’m going to puke. And maybe pass out.”
*
“Brother. I didn’t expect you to wake for a couple hours.” He set the syringe on the table and pulled out a stethoscope to listen to Ed’s heartbeat.
“How are you feeling?” Roy’s voice was hushed, as though he was talking to an invalid instead of Ed, who, even missing two limbs as a child had never been an invalid.
Ed shrugged, feeling the strange absence of his right arm at the movement. “Weird. Did you give me something?” His mouth felt funny, like he wasn’t entirely in control of the muscles of his face, and there was a strange taste at the back of his throat.
Al hummed an affirmative as he continued to listen, only pulling back when he seemed completely satisfied. “You should be glad of it, too, brother. One of your bolts came loose, shifting a plate on the inside of the automail and pinching some nerves. You’d still be in a lot of pain if you weren’t on drugs.”
“But I’ll be okay?”
Al nodded, a smile finally cracking his serious face. “Yeah, it’s painful but not too bad. I want you to keep the automail off for a couple days to let the swelling go down so I can get a better look at the damage and make sure it’s safe to reattach.”
His mind spun with a thousand worries: Roy’s safety, Roy’s guard, Roy’s schedule, what if his arm was too damaged to reattach, what if he could reattach but was in constant pain, what if? But Roy’s fingers never stopped combing through his hair, and the drugs running through his veins made it hard for him to hold on to his worries.
Al patted his hand and offered a reassuring smile. “Just rest, brother. We have plenty of other people to worry about everything for a few days.”
***
Roy smiled and kissed the bare flesh closest to him. His head was pillowed on Ed’s chest where he could both hear and feel Ed’s questions as Ed’s flesh fingers raked through his sweat-damp hair. “I don’t know. This is a pretty good life by almost anyone’s standards.” At a moment’s notice he could call down to the kitchen and have them make anything he could dream of. He had a driver to take him anywhere he wanted to go. His suits were tailored and cleaned without him ever having to lift a finger. Sacrificing some of his freedoms seemed a pretty equivalent exchange for the luxury.
“I’m not debating the lifestyle. I was just wondering, I mean, there was a time when I could leave the house without it ending up on an itinerary.”
Ed sounded oddly serious and Roy leaned up on an elbow to look at him. “It’s only a couple more years, at this point. We’re almost ready to hand off to the next generation.” Ed never really talked much about what he thought about Roy being Prime Minister, though Roy did get the feeling that to Ed, it was something to be endured. That it was a trial at the end of which Ed might finally get some rest. “Are you…do you regret this?”
“Don’t be an ass. Of course not. All I have to do is look at the good we’ve done in the last couple years to know that it’s been worth it. But I do kind of miss that life, the one where I could go anywhere, do anything and no one gave a damn.”
“I always gave a damn, Ed.”
Ed kissed the top of his head. “You don’t count, because you’re a total girl.”
***
“This is your fault. You caught this first and then passed it on to me. Where were your protective feelings then? Where was your obsessive need to keep me safe?” Roy sneezed again, feeling the ache of it all the way down to his toes. He almost wished there would be an attempt on his life just to end the misery.
“A cold isn’t going to kill you. Though I might if you don’t keep your fucking hands off of me.” It looked like Ed wanted to say more, but instead he spent the next five minutes coughing and struggling for breath. Roy would have been more concerned if he could have worked up the energy for it.
“When’s Al coming back?”
“Well, why don’t I check my magical fucking calendar and find out?” Ed sneezed and flopped back against the pillows. “Stop moving. I can see your hand creeping this way.”
Of all the places for them to come down with this vile plague, the Mirror Room would not have been Roy’s first choice. Actually, his first choice would have been to avoid this illness all together. But his second choice would have been to contract it in one of the rooms in soft blues or grays. Not in the room that reflected their misery back at them from every angle. They were both disgusting and there was no blocking out the sight.
“Roy! What the fuck? How many times do I have to say stay on your fucking side?”
“I’m not touching you.” Roy followed the length of his arm with his eyes, seeing it end well before it could touch Ed. “I think you’re hallucinating now. I wonder if that’s the next symptom before death.”
“Somebody’s going to die soon, if he keeps it up.”
“I’m not fucking touching you!”
Ed heaved himself up into a sitting position and glared at Roy. “Yes, you are! Right there!” He pointed and then let his hand drop before falling back against the bed. “Oh. That’s just a pillow.”
“Yeah, not my hand.” Surely love didn’t mean having to suffer through this.
Ed was blessedly quiet after that, leaving Roy to enjoy the sounds of his own pounding heart and sluggish breaths. He’d nearly dropped back into a restless sleep when Ed spoke again. “Hey, who’s running the country?”
“I don’t know. Hughes, I think.” He hadn’t really thought much about Amestris since this whole thing started, beyond the odd thought that a coup would be welcome only if the new regime decided to kill him.
“Great, good job. We’ll all come back to national Elicia Day. Hope you’re happy.”
“Blissfully. Shut the fuck up.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’m not fucking touching an inch of you. Go to sleep.”
***
“I’m thinking of writing my memoirs.”
Ed peered at him over the edge of his book. “Good. You need a hobby.” Roy opened his mouth to comment, but Ed cut him off. “And the two of us fucking on every available surface of this house does not constitute a hobby. It needs to be something you can talk about in polite company.”
“It’d have to be highly edited, of course, state secrets and all.”
Ed set aside his book and a slow grin spread across his face. “I guess you’d better leave all the sex in, then. Because if you take out the sex and the secrets, it’s just a list of everything you’ve eaten for the past forty-five years.”
“I’ve done more than classified activities and had sex, Ed.”
Ed laughed. “Yeah, right. I’ve lived with you for years, tell me another story. Maybe you should stick to fiction.”
Roy watched as Ed reeled in his line and cast it out again. “Any fish?”
“Nope.” He sounded far too pleased with the lack of success.
“Has there ever been a fish?”
“Nope. There’s something about the chemical balance of the water and the soil that prevents fish from flourishing. But it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.”
Roy laid back on the sun-warmed planks of the dock, tilting his face up towards the sun and closing his eyes. “How long do you give this retirement?”
Ed chuffed a soft laugh and settled beside him, his limbs as warm and pliant as the structure beneath him. “Two more weeks before I lose my mind and end up killing us both in a fit of boredom. But right here, right now? It’s pretty damn fine.”
“Who’d have thought, huh?”
Ed echoed his statement then nuzzled his face into the side of Roy’s neck. “Have we had sex on the dock yet?”
“Mmmm, second day, I think.” Ed made a little disappointed sound. “But there’s no reason not to have a second round, just to make sure we did it right.”