FMA Fan Fic Untitled
FIC:
Title: Untitled
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Al x Roy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2781
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and this is written purely for enjoyment purposes.
Warnings: Movie spoilers big time. Hence, if you aren't at least familiar with the end of the series, then you don't want to read this.
Summary: Alphonse lifted his eyebrows at Roy’s use of the present tense. “So . . . you must think he’s still alive, too!”
Notes: This is for momoiro_usagi. She is the only one who asked me to write anything. Also, she's really going through some stress right now as she gets ready to return to school. Un-beta'd. Feel free to offer corrections. Any and all comments are welcome.
“I nearly never found you, General,” Alphonse grinned as he held out his gloved hands to the fire. “You’re about as far North as I guess I’ve ever been.”
Roy Mustang turned from securing the door again the cutting wind that rattled the hinges and whistled lightly into every possible draft, making the rustic cabin out-post almost unbearably cold. He set the rifle in the corner and gave a slight smile that almost seemed a grimace when seen against the extensive eye-patch covering the left side of his face. “Yes, it is very close to our Northern border.” He paused to shirk out of his heavy woolen overcoat. Hanging it on a hook close to the door, he added, “And . . . I’m not a general any more. You can call me Roy, if you like.” He turned to survey the youth at his hearth.
Alphonse smiled innocently and shrugged. “I don’t remember much, really. Just what I’ve been told.” Tilting his head to one side as he regarded the older man, he asked, “What did I call you before?”
Mustang took a moment to respond, then finally moved to join his visitor, sitting on a crate that had been pulled up to the hearth. “Colonel. . . . You called me Colonel . . . or Colonel Mustang.” He tried an ingratiating smile that felt odd to his lips. “But you can call me Roy now.” He sighed as he let the smile fade away and picked up the poker to stoke the fire.
Alphonse said nothing as the feeling returned slowly to his fingers and toes. He remained in the red cloak that had belonged to his brother, too cold to doff it for the time being. The dark-haired soldier did not look pleased with his presence, but Alphonse had not found means of informing the man of his impending visit, much less requesting an audience. Lt. Havoc and Lt. Breda had provided directions for him, and Captain Hawkeye had even requested that he deliver a small package, providing him an excuse in case the man refused to let him enter. However, he was here for his own reasons, which had nothing to do with the military. And he had not figured out how to breach the subject with the man.
Without warning, Roy gave him the opening he needed. “You . . . you remind me a lot of Fullmetal.”
Al turned to warm his backside and smiled brightly as he gazed down at Roy, who was still poking at the fire without looking at him. “Yeah . . . a lot of people tell me that.” He grinned suddenly. “But I’m a lot taller than he was.”
At that, Roy looked up with a genuine smirk, recalling how volatile Edward was when even the slightest mention was made about his height. “Yes, you are. But I don’t think he would appreciate hearing that.”
Alphonse lifted his eyebrows at Roy’s use of the present tense. “So . . . you must think he’s still alive, too!”
The man quickly diverted his dark gaze to the fire, hanging up the poker before tossing two more logs into the midst of the blaze, sending sparks flying. After another moment, he murmured, “Yes. I do.”
The honey-haired youth decided he was finally sufficiently thawed to remove the cloak and hung it beside the soldier’s heavy coat. When he returned to the hearth, he sat opposite his dark-haired companion, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Well, actually . . . that’s why I came, Gen- . . . uh . . . Roy.” Seeing no reaction from the man who still gazed into the flames, he pressed on. “Can you tell me . . . well . . . anything about where you think he is now? Anything at all?” He paused again, and when Roy still didn’t respond, he continued, “I . . . I have these dreams about him. . . . All the time. . . . I . . . I dream that I’m 17 and that I have a weak body, but that I’m living with Ed and we make things that fly up into the sky.” He paused, his own gaze turning inward. “I know it’s weird. But . . . but they’re so vivid! I . . . I can’t believe that there’s nothing to them!”
At length, Roy looked up and met Alphonse’s gaze. “I have dreams, too. And not just about Edward.” He turned back to the fire, picking up the poker to adjust the new logs. “Hughes is there, as well . . . in some kind of uniform . . . but I don’t think he’s military.” At the memory, another genuine smile graced his features. He was still a handsome man, in spite of the eye patch.
Alphonse noted the pleased expression, and so did not comment until Roy replaced the poker and sat back, giving him his full attention. With a small smile, he admitted, “I’m sorry, Roy. I . . . I don’t remember Hughes. But Winry talks about him sometimes. Was he someone who helped me and Ed on our adventure?”
To the teen’s relief, Roy smiled again, albeit a bit sadly. “Yeah . . . you could say that. He was a good friend . . . to everyone who knew him.” With that, he sighed and let the smile drift away. “But as for where they are . . . I can’t possibly say, Al. I know that Hughes is definitely dead. He wasn’t . . . transmuted . . . like Ed was. My dreams don’t make sense. Maybe that’s all they are . . . just dreams. But . . . you’re right.” Here, he sighed again. “They seem far too vivid to be . . . nothing more than dreams. . . . And the fact that I’ve dreamed of the same . . . place . . . again and again . . . well . . . . Why would I continue to dream of a place I’ve never been?”
Alphonse nodded, his ponytail bouncing around his shoulders. “Yes! Exactly! It’s a particular place! It’s like . . . I should know it or something!” He frowned gently. “And maybe we have been there before.” His frown deepened. “I wish I could remember what happened during those four years! I wish I could remember where all we went, who all we met! It’s like this gaping hole that I have no idea how to explore. And I can’t help but think that somehow, if I could remember, then I could find Ed now.”
The dark-haired man regarded Alphonse in silence for a moment, then stood to cross the room to the two-burner stove in the corner. “It’s getting late. You’ll never make it back before dark, even if you left right away.” He filled the kettle with water and used a match to light the burner it had occupied. A medium-sized pot simmered on the other burner. “I’ll make some tea. You are welcome to join me for dinner, though all I have is stew with a bit of hard bread.”
He glanced back at the teen, then swept his eyes to the bed in the corner. “I’m afraid you’ll either have to share my bed or take the floor.” He gave a small smile. “And I wouldn’t recommend the floor. . . . It’s gets really cold when the fire dies down.”
Alphonse followed Roy’s gaze to the corner, then turned his attention back to the dark-haired man. He hadn’t even thought about sleeping arrangements when he had set out. Not even Lt. Havoc or Lt. Breda had warned him about exactly how tiny the outpost was. He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t mind sharing if you don’t mind. I’m sorry that I didn’t think of that before. Really, I didn’t mean to barge in on you and, well, be a nuisance.”
“You aren’t a nuisance.” Roy turned to lift the cover of the pot and stirred it. “I’m glad for the company, actually.” He snorted softly. “Imagine that,” he murmured more to himself than to Al.
Lacking a table, they sat by the fire to eat. Alphonse filled Roy in on the latest news of everyone he knew. He also related his travels since his teacher’s death and his surprise at how widely-known his famous brother was. “I have pictures of us . . . well, Winry has pictures of us together.” Al smiled brightly and took a sip of tea. “I don’t really think we looked all that much alike. But . . . ,” he took another bite of the stew, “everywhere I go, people think I’m Ed . . . at least until they get a good look at me.”
Roy smiled at his cheerful companion’s tales. He murmured, “Well . . . you dress like Edward did. And . . . you hold yourself the way he did.” He paused to chew a bit of bread before adding, “I’ve heard that you are as skilled at alchemy, as well.” He dropped his gaze to dip his bread into his bowl. “That shouldn’t surprise me. You passed the written alchemy exam just like Edward did.”
“Did I?” Al’s eyes shown over his smile, then he shook his head. “I wish I could remember!” With that, he turned his attention back to the meal before him.
The rest of the meal passed in quiet conversation. By the time the few dishes had been washed and put away, the night was deep outside the small grimy windows. Wiping his hands on the thin, ragged towel, hanging it up as he turned back toward the room, Roy began to unbutton his shirt. He had already doffed his uniform jacket. Alphonse was looking through the sparse collection of books over the mantle. Roy paused a moment, considering the boy, before he pulled his shirttails free from the blue woolen pants. Beneath his shirt, he wore ribbed thermal material that clung to his flesh like a second skin to lock in his body heat. As he stepped to the tiny corner closet to hang up the shirt, he murmured, “You didn’t bring anything to sleep in, either, did you?”
The bright-eyed youth turned his gaze upon him. “Um . . . no. . . . I guess I just figured I’d sleep in my clothes,” he replied and shrugged. He gave a lop-sided smile. “It’s what I usually do, anyway.”
“Suit yourself.” Roy murmured, then crossed the room to pull on his great coat. Turning to face Al, he added, “The privy is out back.” Grabbing a small lantern, he added, “If you have to go out in the snow, your clothes will be wet before you get back.” He eyed the fire, which was already beginning to die down. “You’ll be cold if you get wet.” Then he ducked out of the door, pulling it firmly closed behind him.
Alphonse took in the bed, which, although technically full-sized, seemed rather narrow. He faced the fire again thoughtfully. He had been told that he had always been the more practical Elric brother. But then, he supposed when he was bonded to a suit of armor, he would never really have had to worry about where he would sleep or if he would be cold. And now, he simply didn’t think about such things. Maybe he was more like Edward than he had realized.
Roy returned shortly, the cold wind slicing through the room when he slipped back through the door. He hadn’t bothered with a hat, and his hair was quickly saturated with the melting snow as Roy shook out his great coat before replacing it on the hook. Neither said a word as Roy crossed to the crate by the fire and pulled off his boots. “Um . . . what do you suggest . . . uh, Roy?”
The older man stood his boots by the hearth, then looked up at him. “About what, Al?”
“Uh . . . about dressing for bed.”
“You can borrow some of my thermals if you like.” Roy surveyed him critically. “They shouldn’t be too terribly large on you. After all, they stretch.” With that, he stood and crossed back to the closet. Standing with his back to Al, he unfastened his woolen uniform trousers and slid them down, stepping out of them, revealing the remaining portion of the one-piece underwear.
Suddenly, Al blushed and turned away to pull his cloak from the hook, grateful that the older man hadn’t seen him. “All right. Uh . . . well, I’ll be right back.” He hurriedly pulled the cloak around him and grabbed the same lantern before he was out the door.
Meanwhile, Roy extracted another thermal suit from his foot locker, along with two pairs of thick woolen socks. He sat on the bed, laying the articles beside him, and pulled off the socks he had been wearing. Mechanically, he pulled on a clean pair and rose to discard the used ones in a canvas bag in the bottom of the closet.
When the door opened again, all Roy could see was the snowy red cloak, held together at the neck by a white glove, black boots and pants all but coated in hoar. He shivered as the invasive wind hit him, but soon the door was secured again and Al threw back the hood, shivering. “You-you’re right! Brrrr! I . . . I had no idea it got that much colder at night.” He shook off the cloak and replaced it on the hook. Then he clapped his gloved hands together and pressed them against his thighs. With a blue alchemic flash, his clothes were free of ice and snow and completely dry.
Roy smiled to himself. It had been years since he had used alchemy. He just couldn’t bring himself to try it again. He had forgotten that he could have used it to dry his clothing. Of course, outside, his gloves would have quickly gotten far too wet to spark, anyway. He turned away when he realized the youth had caught him staring. “Perhaps you don’t need to worry about getting wet and cold after all,” he murmured.
Alphonse was pulling his hair free from the small leather tie. “No . . . I think you’re right. I’ll feel better if I undress. Besides . . . that bed is small. You probably don’t want to sleep against my clothes all night.”
At that comment, it was Roy’s turn to color. However, half of his face obscured by his eye patch, he did not think Alphonse would notice. He said nothing but held out the thermal piece and the socks. Al took them in one hand, unfastening his black jacket with the other. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Roy mumbled, then turned his back to the youth, spreading back the heavy, thick layers of bedding on the mattress. He stabbed at the dying fire one last time with the poker, pointedly ignoring the boy who was stripping behind him. As if having to find something to break the silence, he murmured, “I usually let the fire die out during the night. But . . . I’ll stoke it again if you want.”
“No . . . that’s fine with me,” the boy answered brightly amidst the rustle of clothing. He sat to Roy’s side and pulled off his boots before rising again to finish his task. “I really am sorry about being such an inconvenience to you, Roy. I . . . I guess I just didn’t think about what staying the night would entail.”
Roy hung the poker up again, but remained squatting by the glowing embers. “You aren’t an inconvenience, Al. I . . . I haven’t had guests in a very long time. You’ll have to forgive me for being so ill-prepared.” He rose slowly, still not looking at the boy. Instead, he slipped under the covers and pressed himself against the wall, his back to the room.
After a moment, he felt the covers lift and the bed sink. He could feel the boy shivering, knees brushing against his back as he curled himself into a tight ball. After a moment, Roy murmured, “Are you still cold?”
“Uh . . . yeah. But . . . it’s getting better,” Alphonse mumbled through chattering teeth.
After another moment, Roy shifted to face him, most of his face obscured by the eye patch and his somewhat shaggy black hair that had dried before the fire. The youth was still shivering. Hesitating just a moment, Roy reached out to touch Alphonse’s shoulder. “Scoot closer. You’ll be warmer that way.”
He waited just a beat before he snuggled into the older man’s arm, letting his knees drop a bit to get closer. Roy rested his cheek against Alphonse’s hair and sighed softly. Al felt an arm slide beneath his neck and around his back. This really was a lot warmer. Suddenly, he felt drowsy, his body beginning to relax with the welcome heat.
Soon, the boy was snoring lightly, his breathing deep and regular against Roy’s collarbone. Absently, Roy slid his fingers through the long, silky hair. He was still wide awake, but his mind was not so much on the youth in his arms. Instead, it was far away, wandering back in time to a night when Edward had fallen asleep in his arms, drooling against his bare flesh. With a sigh, Roy whispered, “We miss you, Fullmetal . . . wherever you are.”
Title: Untitled
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Al x Roy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2781
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and this is written purely for enjoyment purposes.
Warnings: Movie spoilers big time. Hence, if you aren't at least familiar with the end of the series, then you don't want to read this.
Summary: Alphonse lifted his eyebrows at Roy’s use of the present tense. “So . . . you must think he’s still alive, too!”
Notes: This is for momoiro_usagi. She is the only one who asked me to write anything. Also, she's really going through some stress right now as she gets ready to return to school. Un-beta'd. Feel free to offer corrections. Any and all comments are welcome.
“I nearly never found you, General,” Alphonse grinned as he held out his gloved hands to the fire. “You’re about as far North as I guess I’ve ever been.”
Roy Mustang turned from securing the door again the cutting wind that rattled the hinges and whistled lightly into every possible draft, making the rustic cabin out-post almost unbearably cold. He set the rifle in the corner and gave a slight smile that almost seemed a grimace when seen against the extensive eye-patch covering the left side of his face. “Yes, it is very close to our Northern border.” He paused to shirk out of his heavy woolen overcoat. Hanging it on a hook close to the door, he added, “And . . . I’m not a general any more. You can call me Roy, if you like.” He turned to survey the youth at his hearth.
Alphonse smiled innocently and shrugged. “I don’t remember much, really. Just what I’ve been told.” Tilting his head to one side as he regarded the older man, he asked, “What did I call you before?”
Mustang took a moment to respond, then finally moved to join his visitor, sitting on a crate that had been pulled up to the hearth. “Colonel. . . . You called me Colonel . . . or Colonel Mustang.” He tried an ingratiating smile that felt odd to his lips. “But you can call me Roy now.” He sighed as he let the smile fade away and picked up the poker to stoke the fire.
Alphonse said nothing as the feeling returned slowly to his fingers and toes. He remained in the red cloak that had belonged to his brother, too cold to doff it for the time being. The dark-haired soldier did not look pleased with his presence, but Alphonse had not found means of informing the man of his impending visit, much less requesting an audience. Lt. Havoc and Lt. Breda had provided directions for him, and Captain Hawkeye had even requested that he deliver a small package, providing him an excuse in case the man refused to let him enter. However, he was here for his own reasons, which had nothing to do with the military. And he had not figured out how to breach the subject with the man.
Without warning, Roy gave him the opening he needed. “You . . . you remind me a lot of Fullmetal.”
Al turned to warm his backside and smiled brightly as he gazed down at Roy, who was still poking at the fire without looking at him. “Yeah . . . a lot of people tell me that.” He grinned suddenly. “But I’m a lot taller than he was.”
At that, Roy looked up with a genuine smirk, recalling how volatile Edward was when even the slightest mention was made about his height. “Yes, you are. But I don’t think he would appreciate hearing that.”
Alphonse lifted his eyebrows at Roy’s use of the present tense. “So . . . you must think he’s still alive, too!”
The man quickly diverted his dark gaze to the fire, hanging up the poker before tossing two more logs into the midst of the blaze, sending sparks flying. After another moment, he murmured, “Yes. I do.”
The honey-haired youth decided he was finally sufficiently thawed to remove the cloak and hung it beside the soldier’s heavy coat. When he returned to the hearth, he sat opposite his dark-haired companion, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Well, actually . . . that’s why I came, Gen- . . . uh . . . Roy.” Seeing no reaction from the man who still gazed into the flames, he pressed on. “Can you tell me . . . well . . . anything about where you think he is now? Anything at all?” He paused again, and when Roy still didn’t respond, he continued, “I . . . I have these dreams about him. . . . All the time. . . . I . . . I dream that I’m 17 and that I have a weak body, but that I’m living with Ed and we make things that fly up into the sky.” He paused, his own gaze turning inward. “I know it’s weird. But . . . but they’re so vivid! I . . . I can’t believe that there’s nothing to them!”
At length, Roy looked up and met Alphonse’s gaze. “I have dreams, too. And not just about Edward.” He turned back to the fire, picking up the poker to adjust the new logs. “Hughes is there, as well . . . in some kind of uniform . . . but I don’t think he’s military.” At the memory, another genuine smile graced his features. He was still a handsome man, in spite of the eye patch.
Alphonse noted the pleased expression, and so did not comment until Roy replaced the poker and sat back, giving him his full attention. With a small smile, he admitted, “I’m sorry, Roy. I . . . I don’t remember Hughes. But Winry talks about him sometimes. Was he someone who helped me and Ed on our adventure?”
To the teen’s relief, Roy smiled again, albeit a bit sadly. “Yeah . . . you could say that. He was a good friend . . . to everyone who knew him.” With that, he sighed and let the smile drift away. “But as for where they are . . . I can’t possibly say, Al. I know that Hughes is definitely dead. He wasn’t . . . transmuted . . . like Ed was. My dreams don’t make sense. Maybe that’s all they are . . . just dreams. But . . . you’re right.” Here, he sighed again. “They seem far too vivid to be . . . nothing more than dreams. . . . And the fact that I’ve dreamed of the same . . . place . . . again and again . . . well . . . . Why would I continue to dream of a place I’ve never been?”
Alphonse nodded, his ponytail bouncing around his shoulders. “Yes! Exactly! It’s a particular place! It’s like . . . I should know it or something!” He frowned gently. “And maybe we have been there before.” His frown deepened. “I wish I could remember what happened during those four years! I wish I could remember where all we went, who all we met! It’s like this gaping hole that I have no idea how to explore. And I can’t help but think that somehow, if I could remember, then I could find Ed now.”
The dark-haired man regarded Alphonse in silence for a moment, then stood to cross the room to the two-burner stove in the corner. “It’s getting late. You’ll never make it back before dark, even if you left right away.” He filled the kettle with water and used a match to light the burner it had occupied. A medium-sized pot simmered on the other burner. “I’ll make some tea. You are welcome to join me for dinner, though all I have is stew with a bit of hard bread.”
He glanced back at the teen, then swept his eyes to the bed in the corner. “I’m afraid you’ll either have to share my bed or take the floor.” He gave a small smile. “And I wouldn’t recommend the floor. . . . It’s gets really cold when the fire dies down.”
Alphonse followed Roy’s gaze to the corner, then turned his attention back to the dark-haired man. He hadn’t even thought about sleeping arrangements when he had set out. Not even Lt. Havoc or Lt. Breda had warned him about exactly how tiny the outpost was. He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t mind sharing if you don’t mind. I’m sorry that I didn’t think of that before. Really, I didn’t mean to barge in on you and, well, be a nuisance.”
“You aren’t a nuisance.” Roy turned to lift the cover of the pot and stirred it. “I’m glad for the company, actually.” He snorted softly. “Imagine that,” he murmured more to himself than to Al.
Lacking a table, they sat by the fire to eat. Alphonse filled Roy in on the latest news of everyone he knew. He also related his travels since his teacher’s death and his surprise at how widely-known his famous brother was. “I have pictures of us . . . well, Winry has pictures of us together.” Al smiled brightly and took a sip of tea. “I don’t really think we looked all that much alike. But . . . ,” he took another bite of the stew, “everywhere I go, people think I’m Ed . . . at least until they get a good look at me.”
Roy smiled at his cheerful companion’s tales. He murmured, “Well . . . you dress like Edward did. And . . . you hold yourself the way he did.” He paused to chew a bit of bread before adding, “I’ve heard that you are as skilled at alchemy, as well.” He dropped his gaze to dip his bread into his bowl. “That shouldn’t surprise me. You passed the written alchemy exam just like Edward did.”
“Did I?” Al’s eyes shown over his smile, then he shook his head. “I wish I could remember!” With that, he turned his attention back to the meal before him.
The rest of the meal passed in quiet conversation. By the time the few dishes had been washed and put away, the night was deep outside the small grimy windows. Wiping his hands on the thin, ragged towel, hanging it up as he turned back toward the room, Roy began to unbutton his shirt. He had already doffed his uniform jacket. Alphonse was looking through the sparse collection of books over the mantle. Roy paused a moment, considering the boy, before he pulled his shirttails free from the blue woolen pants. Beneath his shirt, he wore ribbed thermal material that clung to his flesh like a second skin to lock in his body heat. As he stepped to the tiny corner closet to hang up the shirt, he murmured, “You didn’t bring anything to sleep in, either, did you?”
The bright-eyed youth turned his gaze upon him. “Um . . . no. . . . I guess I just figured I’d sleep in my clothes,” he replied and shrugged. He gave a lop-sided smile. “It’s what I usually do, anyway.”
“Suit yourself.” Roy murmured, then crossed the room to pull on his great coat. Turning to face Al, he added, “The privy is out back.” Grabbing a small lantern, he added, “If you have to go out in the snow, your clothes will be wet before you get back.” He eyed the fire, which was already beginning to die down. “You’ll be cold if you get wet.” Then he ducked out of the door, pulling it firmly closed behind him.
Alphonse took in the bed, which, although technically full-sized, seemed rather narrow. He faced the fire again thoughtfully. He had been told that he had always been the more practical Elric brother. But then, he supposed when he was bonded to a suit of armor, he would never really have had to worry about where he would sleep or if he would be cold. And now, he simply didn’t think about such things. Maybe he was more like Edward than he had realized.
Roy returned shortly, the cold wind slicing through the room when he slipped back through the door. He hadn’t bothered with a hat, and his hair was quickly saturated with the melting snow as Roy shook out his great coat before replacing it on the hook. Neither said a word as Roy crossed to the crate by the fire and pulled off his boots. “Um . . . what do you suggest . . . uh, Roy?”
The older man stood his boots by the hearth, then looked up at him. “About what, Al?”
“Uh . . . about dressing for bed.”
“You can borrow some of my thermals if you like.” Roy surveyed him critically. “They shouldn’t be too terribly large on you. After all, they stretch.” With that, he stood and crossed back to the closet. Standing with his back to Al, he unfastened his woolen uniform trousers and slid them down, stepping out of them, revealing the remaining portion of the one-piece underwear.
Suddenly, Al blushed and turned away to pull his cloak from the hook, grateful that the older man hadn’t seen him. “All right. Uh . . . well, I’ll be right back.” He hurriedly pulled the cloak around him and grabbed the same lantern before he was out the door.
Meanwhile, Roy extracted another thermal suit from his foot locker, along with two pairs of thick woolen socks. He sat on the bed, laying the articles beside him, and pulled off the socks he had been wearing. Mechanically, he pulled on a clean pair and rose to discard the used ones in a canvas bag in the bottom of the closet.
When the door opened again, all Roy could see was the snowy red cloak, held together at the neck by a white glove, black boots and pants all but coated in hoar. He shivered as the invasive wind hit him, but soon the door was secured again and Al threw back the hood, shivering. “You-you’re right! Brrrr! I . . . I had no idea it got that much colder at night.” He shook off the cloak and replaced it on the hook. Then he clapped his gloved hands together and pressed them against his thighs. With a blue alchemic flash, his clothes were free of ice and snow and completely dry.
Roy smiled to himself. It had been years since he had used alchemy. He just couldn’t bring himself to try it again. He had forgotten that he could have used it to dry his clothing. Of course, outside, his gloves would have quickly gotten far too wet to spark, anyway. He turned away when he realized the youth had caught him staring. “Perhaps you don’t need to worry about getting wet and cold after all,” he murmured.
Alphonse was pulling his hair free from the small leather tie. “No . . . I think you’re right. I’ll feel better if I undress. Besides . . . that bed is small. You probably don’t want to sleep against my clothes all night.”
At that comment, it was Roy’s turn to color. However, half of his face obscured by his eye patch, he did not think Alphonse would notice. He said nothing but held out the thermal piece and the socks. Al took them in one hand, unfastening his black jacket with the other. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Roy mumbled, then turned his back to the youth, spreading back the heavy, thick layers of bedding on the mattress. He stabbed at the dying fire one last time with the poker, pointedly ignoring the boy who was stripping behind him. As if having to find something to break the silence, he murmured, “I usually let the fire die out during the night. But . . . I’ll stoke it again if you want.”
“No . . . that’s fine with me,” the boy answered brightly amidst the rustle of clothing. He sat to Roy’s side and pulled off his boots before rising again to finish his task. “I really am sorry about being such an inconvenience to you, Roy. I . . . I guess I just didn’t think about what staying the night would entail.”
Roy hung the poker up again, but remained squatting by the glowing embers. “You aren’t an inconvenience, Al. I . . . I haven’t had guests in a very long time. You’ll have to forgive me for being so ill-prepared.” He rose slowly, still not looking at the boy. Instead, he slipped under the covers and pressed himself against the wall, his back to the room.
After a moment, he felt the covers lift and the bed sink. He could feel the boy shivering, knees brushing against his back as he curled himself into a tight ball. After a moment, Roy murmured, “Are you still cold?”
“Uh . . . yeah. But . . . it’s getting better,” Alphonse mumbled through chattering teeth.
After another moment, Roy shifted to face him, most of his face obscured by the eye patch and his somewhat shaggy black hair that had dried before the fire. The youth was still shivering. Hesitating just a moment, Roy reached out to touch Alphonse’s shoulder. “Scoot closer. You’ll be warmer that way.”
He waited just a beat before he snuggled into the older man’s arm, letting his knees drop a bit to get closer. Roy rested his cheek against Alphonse’s hair and sighed softly. Al felt an arm slide beneath his neck and around his back. This really was a lot warmer. Suddenly, he felt drowsy, his body beginning to relax with the welcome heat.
Soon, the boy was snoring lightly, his breathing deep and regular against Roy’s collarbone. Absently, Roy slid his fingers through the long, silky hair. He was still wide awake, but his mind was not so much on the youth in his arms. Instead, it was far away, wandering back in time to a night when Edward had fallen asleep in his arms, drooling against his bare flesh. With a sigh, Roy whispered, “We miss you, Fullmetal . . . wherever you are.”