Done for the October FMA Gift Exchange. Tsukihime_San asked for RoyEd, either as friends or as lovers, 7 years after the Promised Day. This is friendship, obviously. It works as a prequel to my story Homecoming as well.


The house was dark as Roy walked up the road.

It occurred to him that the last time he'd been to this house had been nearly twelve years ago. Then, he'd pushed his way in, fresh from the memory of alchemy and blood. This time, he went slowly, knocked, waited for an answer.

After an eternity, Edward answered the door, his gold eyes dull. He stared at Roy in surprise for a long moment. "Hi," he said, finally. "Come in, I guess."

"How are you doing, Edward?" Roy asked, hanging up his coat on a hook.

"How the fuck do you think?" Ed said. He walked back into the living room, and flopped himself onto a chair. "Little Al's asleep upstairs," he said, dully. "Shouldn't you be in Central? Isn't there an election you have to worry about?"

Roy shook his head. "We had a function tonight, but it's over. Riza and I took the late train here. She's at the hospital with Pinako."

"I wanted to stay with her," Ed said, "but little Al needed me. He was freaked out enough as it was, and he didn't even see-" He broke off, looking away.

"They're both stable, though, I was given to understand," Roy offered.

"If you can call that stable," Ed said. "She lost so much blood..." He stood up suddenly, and walked to a window. "And the baby," Ed choked out. "The baby wasn't breathing at first." He reached out, clenched a hand around the window frame. His knuckles went white.

Roy reached out and gently disengaged Ed's hand. "Do you want me to stay here?" he offered. "I can keep an eye on your son, and you could go back to the hospital."

Ed looked miserable. "He wakes up in the night," Ed said. "If I'm not here, he'll be terrified. I can't just leave him. Besides, she'd kill me if she found out."

Roy nodded, running down his usual coping strategies. Alcohol was out; Ed needed to function tonight and tomorrow, and he was a melancholy, pugnacious drunk anyhow. Sex was entirely inappropriate. Getting into a fight would probably be satisfying for Ed right now, but Roy had no desire to volunteer as a punching bag. That left two options, each equally ridiculous.

"Have you eaten?" Roy asked.

"What?" Ed said, looking at him funny.

"It's that or talk about your feelings, Edward. And I've heard about your talents in the kitchen- or lack thereof- so I'm guessing you haven't eaten well this evening." Roy wandered toward the kitchen, and began looking for edible things on the shelves.

"Wait, you're offering to cook for me?" Ed sounded confused as he followed Roy into the kitchen.

"Yes, I thought that was obvious, Fullmetal. Try to keep up. What would you like? It looks as though one of the women in your life keeps the kitchen stocked reasonably well. I know there's no chance that you're responsible for the larder." Ed was probably responsible for the peanut butter toast that was sitting half-eaten on the counter, however. At a guess, that's what little Al had gotten for dinner.

"You can cook?" Ed asked, surprised.

"My mother taught me," Roy said. "She considered it a necessary life skill. You should learn it sometime- then you wouldn't end up hungry when there's no one else home to cook for you."

"You have a mother?" Ed asked, stupidly

Roy rolled his eyes. "Yes, Fullmetal. A foster mother, actually. My parents were both killed when I was quite young. My father's sister took me in." He reached into the icebox and pulled out a carton of eggs. "Eggs and potatoes? I think there may be a bit of sausage here, too."

Ed shrugged, looking at Roy like he'd sprouted another head. That was fine; Roy preferred it to Ed looking like he was going to collapse inward.

Roy rummaged for potatoes. "My mother ran a club, so I grew up staying up all hours and mixing drinks for the girls. And cooking, occasionally. This was my mother's favorite hangover cure, actually- this, five glasses of water, and two fingers of scotch. I've never been able to manage it without throwing up, myself. I salute her superior constitution."

Ed snorted. "I should have known you grew up in a brothel," he said, settling himself against the counter.

Roy shook his head, smiling. "Not a brothel, thanks, Fullmetal. A club. The girls were entertainers- singers and dancers- though I suppose I can't trust you to know the difference."

"I know the difference," Ed protested, defensive. "I've been in a brothel before."

"Why, because you didn't realize it wasn't a normal hotel?" Roy posited, heating oil up in a frying pan, and began dicing potatoes. "Was this when you were out West?"

Ed was silent. "It was when I was fourteen," he admitted, finally.

"They let you in the door at fourteen?" Roy said, genuinely surprised.

Ed shrugged, blushing. "I was really tired, and I had the watch. I didn't realize why the rooms were so expensive at first."

Roy couldn't help himself. The image of a fourteen-year-old Fullmetal passed out face first in a whorehouse was too much for him. "What did Alphonse do with himself?" he gasped out, in between gales of laughter.

"Made friends with the girls, apparently," Ed said, glumly. "When I woke up, he'd sweet-talked them into making me breakfast. He went back and visited them later. He told me they had a picture of me up on the wall- like, the Fullmetal Alchemist visited here."

Roy smirked. "I bet he went back and visited," he said, dumping the potatoes into the frying pan. "I wonder if they've got a picture of him up on the wall now?"

Ed socked him in the arm, glaring. "Don't talk like that about my brother!" he protested.

"What?" Roy said, grinning. "Your brother has always had a more... relaxed world view than you. And he spent his teenage years without a flesh body. If it had been me, I would have been making up for lost time."

"Not everyone's a pervert like you," Ed snapped.

"If enjoying the female form makes me a pervert, then I'm happy to be one," Roy said, airily. "Do you like your potatoes a bit browned or just cooked?"

"Browned," Ed said. "Fire makes food more delicious."

"That's a simplistic way to describe the Maillard reaction," Roy observed. "But true." He turned up the heat, stirring the potatoes vigorously. "I suppose you'll get to meet my mother at the wedding, when Riza and I get around to having one," he said. "I think she'd like you. She'd probably think you were funny, actually."

Ed looked horrified. "I'm not sure I like the idea of meeting your mom," he said.

Roy laughed. He checked his potatoes, and reached for the sausage. "I might point out that youwere raised by the Panthress of Resembool. I would think that you would be beyond being intimidated by strong women." He tossed the sausage into the pan. "Actually, come to think, I should make a point of introducing Mom to Pinako. They'd get along."

"Oh, god," Ed groaned.

Roy reached for the eggs. "How is your degree going, by the way? Have you had your exams yet?"

"Three weeks back," Ed said, crossing his arms. "I passed, of course. Now I just have to write the dissertation and I'm done. I'm going to be the youngest graduate of the Central U doctoral program in history." He swallowed. "I wanted to get the exams out of the way so that I wouldn't have to be commuting to Central once the baby came."

That killing fear was back in Ed's eyes. Roy stirred the food. "I wouldn't have guessed that you'd pick to study political history," he said, reaching for some kind of distraction. "I would have thought you'd be more interested in the sciences."

Ed shrugged, looking away. "I studied science for years. I thought, maybe it was time to do something different. Besides, politics is like... the science of people. I just kept thinking- how did the homunculi fool everyone for so long? How did they get so many people on their side? The way they manipulated the whole country, for centuries... I wanted to understand. And I had to find something to do after I settled down." He sounded defensive. "I didn't want to just mooch off of Winry."

Roy pulled two bowls from a cupboard and began scooping food into them. "I suggest salt and pepper," he said, handing the larger of the two bowls to Ed. "Shall we eat in the dining room like civilized men, or in the living room like barbarians?"

"The living room," Ed said. "You could use a little less civilization."

Ed actually ate, which Roy took as a sign that he'd been genuinely hungry. Roy wondered when he had last gotten the chance for a decent meal. It had surely been a long time ago, what with everything going on.

"Thanks," Ed said quietly when he was done.

Roy wiped his mouth. "It's not a problem, Edward," he said. "It's just a little bit of a fry-up."

Ed looked into his now-empty bowl. "No, I mean- for coming here," he said. "I'm... not good at waiting by myself."

Because, of course, when had Ed ever been by himself? Historically, he coped with stressful situations by saving the lives of the people around him. Roy could see how helpless he must feel now, with no one he could take care of and nothing to defend from.

"You should try to get some sleep," Roy suggested.

Ed glanced at the phone. "But what if she-" he said. "If they call, I mean-"

"I can stay up," he promised. "If they call, I'll wake you up. I'll drive you and Al to the hospital myself."

Ed looked uncertain. Roy reached out, put a hand on his shoulder. "Go, Ed," he said, softly. "I'll be right here."

"Okay," Ed said, finally.