Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Misspoken ❯ Sleepover ( Chapter 14 )

 

Misspoken

 

XIV

 

Sleepover

They ran from the car, through the rain, to the front door. Half way there, Ed stopped and rushed back to the car. A shout of “What are you doing?!” raced past him on the fierce wind, but he ignored it. The storm was very bad, and if it got any worse it might damage the car—a small detail, but one that seemed important to Ed at the moment.

 

Clapping his hands, Ed pressed them to the ground and created an asphalt shelter for the car. As he started to stand, he was grabbed and pulled the rest of the way up, then practically dragged over to the house before being thrust inside.

 

The warm air of the apartment pressed against Ed's skin and he shuttered a little from his cold, wet clothes. He sniffled and wiped the water out of his eyes and bangs then looked behind him to see a sodden Roy Mustang leaning against the closed door, his chest rising and falling with deep, gasping breaths.

 

For a moment, Mustang simply stared at him, then shook his head and said, “Thanks.”

 

“Huh?” Ed was sure the look on his face must be as stupid as he sounded.

 

“The car. I appreciate it.”

 

“Oh!” Ed said and looked away in an effort to hide his sudden blush. “Yeah sure. No problem.”

 

He glanced around the living room with interest. It wasn't too large, but it was roomy enough. There was a couch, a few stuffed chairs, end tables, a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and three large bookcases. The wood of the tables and bookcases was a dark, rich brown and the fabric of the stuffed chairs and couch was a mixture of rustic brown and a deep green. The walls were painted a light brown, a few paintings of various landscapes were hung on the wall, and a small fireplace sat unobtrusively on the far wall. It was all very aesthetically pleasing with the neutral colors and the clean geometric lines of the furniture. But then, for some reason he'd expected Mustang to have such a sophisticated look in his decoration.

 

What he hadn't expected was the mess of books and papers that was piled high on the coffee table, or the half-filled cups dotting the room, or the dirty plates on the end tables. The pieces of clothing strewn all over the room and hanging off the sides of furniture were also a surprise, but not in a bad way. For some reason it made Mustang seem more human, and Ed liked that a lot; felt more comfortable being here because of it.

 

“Nice place,” Ed said appreciatively, then looked back at Mustang who was glancing around at his apartment with a look of chagrin.

 

“Thanks...” he muttered, then pushed himself away from the door and started plucking the clothes from the chairs, couch, and floor, then left the room for a moment and came back with two towels—one for himself and one that he threw to Ed.

 

“I'd tell you to make yourself at home, but...” Mustang eyed him up and down, then shook his head. “You want something dry to change into?”

 

Ed plucked at his sodden suit with a grimace. It figured. The only time he got dressed up and something like this happens... “Yeah sure...” he muttered as he wiped his face, then followed Mustang down the hall and into his bedroom.

 

“Wow, and I thought me an' Al were bad...” Ed said automatically as he surveyed the disaster area that was Mustang's bedroom. The clothes the man had picked up from the front room had been dropped in the middle of the floor, but that really didn't add too much given that clothes were thrown everywhere. The bed was unmade and the covers were in a terrible state of disarray. The desk in the corner was covered with piles of books, folders, and papers. The small garbage can next to the desk was overflowing with crumpled up papers and food wrappers. The nightstand next to the bed was crowded with a lamp, a phone, a clock, a couple of coffee mugs, and a glass bottle half full of some wheat-colored liquid.

 

“Shut it, Ed,” Mustang growled from where he was digging through his closet—another black hole of doom. Finally, he turned with clothes in hand and walked over to Ed. “Here,” he said a little ungraciously, dumping them in Ed's arms. “There's a bathroom down the hall. Oh and take these too,” Mustang said, picking up a couple of hangers from the floor and giving them to Ed. “For your suit.” He nodded and, with one last look around the bedroom, hurried down the hall and into the bathroom.

 

“What the hell, Mustang...” Ed said loud enough that only he could hear as he shut the door. `Disaster area' didn't even begin to describe what he saw. Shaking his head, Ed began to peel off his suit and hang it up on the shower curtain bar. He toweled himself off a little more before holding up the shirt he'd been given.

 

It was a white tee-shirt, something much bigger than what he ever wore, but beggars couldn't be choosers, so he slipped it on. The sleeves fell just below his elbows and the bottom hem of the shirt hung nearly to his knees. Pulling it close to his face, Ed sniffed. It smelled like Mustang, but it also smelled... well, maybe a little musty; like it had been stuffed in the closet for a long time.

 

The faded black pants were almost as bad size-wise, though they had a drawstring so he could cinch them, and he was able to roll up the legs to gather at his ankles. Looking in the mirror, Ed made a face. With the too-large clothes and his hair messy and damp, he looked completely dispossessed.

 

Sighing, Ed trudged out of the bathroom. So much for making a good impression...

 

0-0-0-0

 

Roy sniffed at the casual trousers and shirt to be sure they were, if not clean, then not in major need of being washed, then slipped them on before heading out of his room. When he entered the living room, Roy grunted to himself and picked up all the dirty dishes before walking into the kitchen and dumping them into the sink.

 

With the storm, Roy hadn't thought of what his place looked like when he'd offered to take Ed home. It wasn't that it bothered him—exactly. After all, this was how he lived all the time; but usually he knew in advance if he was going to bring a date home, and he did clean up. Most of the time if he wanted to get to know his date better, they went to a nice hotel because he was not a good housekeeper and he usually wanted to make a good impression so he could get laid.

 

Roy's only consolation was that he was with Ed. The kid and his brother weren't the best at keeping things straightened up either, and with Ed... well, he didn't feel as much pressure to put on a front, to impress. Maybe it was because Roy knew that he wasn't going to get laid at the end of the night...

 

He chuckled to himself and opened the freezer to see what he had, then stopped and glanced in the direction toward the bathroom. Why not? They were at his house. Ed was wearing his clothes... Ed liked him... Roy was curious what it would be like... His groin burned at the prospect of some excitement, but his consciousness was figuratively knocking on his head to see if anyone was home through all the thoughts of, `would Ed be willing?' and `how would it be different than with a woman?'

 

At that moment, Ed walked into view looking small and almost vulnerable in the too-big clothes. The teen raised an eyebrow as Roy studied him. Despite looking bedraggled, Ed really was very good looking... But no. No, he couldn't... Not with Ed... Not now. Ed probably would do it with a bit of urging, but... no. Not if he had no other plans to pursue him. Roy might be able to do that with a random date that he knew he'd never see again, but not with Ed. It just didn't seem right.

 

Looking back at the freezer, Roy frowned. Fate was not smiling upon him right now. Not only was the place a disaster, but he also desperately needed to go shopping. “Well... you have your choice between frozen chicken and frozen chicken.”

 

“Tough choice,” Ed said dryly and stepped beside him. “I think I'll go with the frozen chicken.”

 

Reaching in to get the package of meat, Roy said, “Turn on the oven.” He pulled it out, then looked over to where Ed was reaching over to turn on the oven. As his fingers touched the knob, the lights suddenly flickered and went out.

 

There was silence for a moment before Ed said, “That was not my fault.”

 

Grunting, Roy shut the freezer door and tossed the package of frozen chicken on the counter before thrusting his hands into his pockets. No gloves. With a heavy sigh, Roy said, “Looks like we're going to have dinner by firelight.”

 

“Should I wait here while you light the fire?” Ed asked, sounding unsure.

 

“Ah well... as for that...” Roy said hesitantly. “I don't have my gloves on me. I'll have to go find them.”

 

“Why not just start the fire manually?” Ed asked.

 

Roy rolled his eyes. “We could do that, but it's easier and takes less time with alchemy. I just need to go get the gloves.”

 

There was a short moment of silence, then Ed said, “But... you know where they are, right?”

 

“They're with my uniform,” Roy explained.

 

“Where's your uniform?” Ed asked skeptically.

 

“In my bedroom.”

 

“Oh great... Now we're never going to eat. We're going to die of starvation. We—”

 

Growling, Roy stepped over and felt around in the dark before his fingers touched against Ed's face. He quickly put his hand over Ed's mouth and said softly, “I know exactly where they are. We're not going to starve.” He dropped his hand from Ed's mouth. “Stay here. I'll be back.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Ed's breath caught in his throat when Mustang put a hand over his mouth. It was lame to be excited by such a small touch, but it was Mustang, and he was touching him...

 

“I know exactly where it is. We're not going to starve,” Mustang growled, then dropped his hand. Ed almost wanted to tell him to put it back or to touch him again, but that would make him look stupid. “Stay here. I'll be back.”

 

Reaching out, Ed grabbed onto Mustang. He'd hopped to get his arm, but his hand landed on Mustang's chest instead and he had to feel around a little to find what he wanted. “I'll go with you. After all, you never know what could be lurking in there. You might need protection.”

 

“Ha. Ha,” Mustang said sarcastically, but didn't try to get Ed to let go. Instead, he led him out of the kitchen and carefully down the hall and into the bedroom. Ed was sure that if he was walking this way by himself that he would have tripped several times, but as it was, Mustang seemed to know his house well enough that he could avoid seriously injuring himself on the mess.

 

“You know, when me and Al were little, we used to play hide and seek in the dark,” Ed said suddenly. The memory of him, Al, Winry, and other friends of theirs playing the game was so vivid that Ed felt a sharp pain of nostalgia prick at his heart. Those had been fun times...

 

“I used to play that when I was a kid too,” Mustang said, and Ed could hear him rummaging around. There was a moment of silence, then a snap. An almost imperceptible spark lit Mustang's face for a second, then a half burned candle on the cluttered desk sprang to life and filled the dark room with a dim glow.

 

“See?” Mustang said, looking pleased and smug as he picked up the candle holder.

 

“I never doubted for a moment,” Ed lied. He smiled unconsciously as they started out of the room. He was still holding onto Mustang's arm and that made him feel light and happy, even though he still felt slightly nervous. Yet, despite that, Ed felt at ease. It was as if this change in their normal routine, or the change in whatever Mustang had planned, had created a more casual air between them. Ed felt less nervous and Mustang seemed a little more relaxed than normal. It was as if this had stopped being a date and had become something else—though Ed wasn't sure what to call it.

 

When they entered the living room, Mustang snapped his fingers and a fire instantly blazed to life inside the fireplace. Ed looked up at Mustang and saw the man smirking down at him.

 

“I'll be more impressed after the food is cooked,” Ed quipped, then let go of Mustang's arm and started for the kitchen to get the chicken. Mustang followed behind and pulled a kettle, two plates, and a couple other things out of the cupboard, then headed toward the fireplace. Ed followed behind with the chicken, then asked, “What's that?” when he saw Mustang starting to hang the pot above the fire.

 

“Popcorn,” he said simply, then poured some oil and a container of seeds into the pot and put the lid on it. After that, he grabbed a thin metal rod and handed it to Ed. “Skewer the chicken on that.”

 

“I know how to cook meat over a fire,” Ed said, taking the rod and spearing the frozen chicken pieces with it before setting the rod in notches on each side of the fireplace over the fire. “Al and I had to survive on an island by ourselves for a month before Teacher would train us. And, well, you know... when we're on the go and we're not in any towns, sometimes I have to cook over a fire.”

 

“Really?” Mustang seemed impressed and surprised. “And you're still alive?”

 

“Of course! Being on the island was hard, but...” Ed trailed off at the grin that was spread over Mustang's face and realized he was being laughed at. It took him a moment to figure out what was so funny, then he scowled and grumbled, “My cooking is pretty damn good, you asshole.”

 

The sound and smell of corn popping filled the room and Ed's stomach growled.

 

“Do you like it?” Mustang asked.

 

“Popcorn?” Ed asked, his attention now fixed on being fed.

 

“Cooking over a fire... sleeping out doors... camping.”

 

Ed glanced from the kettle to where Mustang was staring at the fire. The dancing light caused shadows to flicker over the man's face from time to time and it was mesmerizing to look at. Suddenly, Mustang turned and glanced at him and, suddenly embarrassed, Ed looked back at the fire.

 

“Well... yeah. I guess so.” He thought about it for a moment, then said in a more affirmative tone, “Yes. I do.”

 

He thought of the times he and Al had sat around a fire and told ghost stories or jokes, about how unique the food tasted when cooked over a fire, and about sparring or playing games in the outskirts of the fire light. He thought about lying on the ground and looking up at the starry sky... It had a peacefulness to it that Ed lacked from his life most of the time. There were even times that he and Al would try to find the constellations, and it never failed that they would swear up and down that they'd find a good astronomy book and memorize them all for the next time; yet, they never seemed to get around to it.

 

Ed glanced at Mustang and wondered if he'd be able to convey all of that to him. It was such a personal thing, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to find the words.

 

“I like camping too,” Mustang said, and Ed was grateful that he would be spared the awkwardness of explaining.

 

“You like to camp?” Ed asked, trying to imagine Roy Mustang roughing it in the wild.

 

“I grew up in the East. Camping is practically a sport there; same with hunting. We do a lot of outdoor activities.”

 

Ed smirked. Perhaps it was true. After all, he would have expected the man's living space to be immaculate, yet he'd been surprised. He was learning lots of new and interesting stuff tonight, and he sort of liked it.

 

Mustang glanced at him and Ed thought he seemed pleased about something, then he stood, hurried to the kitchen, returned with a large bowl, and took the kettle off the fire. He poured the popcorn into the bowl and set the kettle aside.

 

“What?” Ed asked.

 

“I didn't say anything,” Mustang said, popping a fluffy white piece of corn in his mouth.

 

“You gave me a strange look,” Ed clarified, taking a handful of the popcorn and stuffing it in his mouth.

 

“Just glad to find something that you like to do besides alchemy, that's all.” Another grin as he turned the rod to turn the chicken over.

 

Ed frowned at the meat, then said defensively, “Well... it's not like we go camping for the fun of it. We only do it because we have to; you know, because we have to reach our goal. We don't have time for recreation like everyone else.”

 

“So how does this fit in with you reaching your goal?” Mustang asked, popping a few more pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

 

It doesn't... Ed thought, but kept that to himself. He'd be utterly humiliated if Mustang knew just how much he liked him. Over the years, Ed had made a point to be as annoying and unpleasant as he could to Mustang just so that the man wouldn't know...

 

“Do you have anything to drink?” Ed asked, standing and moving over to the kitchen. It was still dark in there, but he could faintly see due to the fire in the other room. Pulling open the fridge, Ed scanned the contents and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Uh...” came Mustang's reply.

 

`Uh' was right, Ed thought as he counted the number of beer bottles in the fridge. “You know... I always figured you'd be too refined for beer,” Ed said, noting the milk and ignoring it. He'd rather have water... Stepping away from the fridge, Ed pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, then pulled open the fridge door, and grabbed a bottle.

 

He walked back to the fire and held the bottle out to Mustang who took it with a muttered thanks. After taking a drink, Mustang said, “Sorry, it was the best I could do on such short notice. Next time I'll be sure to have chilled champagne.”

 

“Next time?” Ed asked, feeling a little hopeful.

 

Mustang glanced at the chicken cooking over the fire. “Maybe...” He took a sip, then said, “Have a beer, Ed.”

 

Ed blinked. “What?” He wasn't sure if he'd heard right.

 

“A beer. Have one. I was going to introduce you to something nice to drink tonight, but it didn't happen. I think you're old enough, so go get yourself one.”

 

He glanced at the bottle, then at Mustang. The man was relaxed, much more than he'd ever been in the office—perhaps more than he would have been at the fancy place they'd been headed to before coming here—yet, Ed couldn't help but feel like he was being tested.

 

To be given the opportunity to drink like an adult mean that he was being considered an adult. Should he do it? He'd never drunk alcohol before... Ed tapped his fingers on his leg. The last thing he wanted was for Mustang to see him as a kid, but...

 

Finally, he said, “No, that's okay. I'm fine with water.” He'd never been interested in alcohol before, and he didn't want to bother with it now. Maybe after he and Al had reached their goal, they'd have their first drink together... They'd enter that phase of their life together...

 

Ed sipped on his water as Mustang pulled the rod with the chicken down and gingerly pulled the hot pieces off and put them on the plates. He set his aside to let it cool, and stared dully in the fire as he thought of Al. He shouldn't be here squandering his time; he should be there, with his brother, researching or something...

 

“Is this the part of the date where we talk about deep and meaningful subjects?” Mustang asked wryly.

 

Ed couldn't help laughing at that, then he shook his head. “I think this stopped being a `date' a while ago.”

 

“That so? What is it now, then?” Mustang asked, nibbling at the edge of one of the pieces of hot chicken.

 

“Wasted time...” Ed muttered quietly, now feeling thoroughly guilty for being here.

 

Mustang gave up on the hot food, and set the chicken down. “It is okay for you to do other things besides research... You know that, right?”

 

Easy for you to say, Ed thought. “It's my fault that Al is the way he is... I have to do something about it... Every day he spends in that hollow shell, is another day that he can't feel or smell or taste or touch...”

 

Mustang made a `hm' sound as he touched his chicken with his fingers to check the temperature. “And this date fits in with that... how?”

 

Ed frowned. He'd dodged that question once already. Mustang had to know that it made him uneasy. Instead of answering, Ed countered with a question of his own. “Hawkeye said you were just going out with me because you were curious about being with another guy... is that true?”

 

Mustang's head snapped up and he looked at Ed with a seriousness that made him think the man wouldn't answer; but, finally, Mustang said, “That's not... exactly... the reason why, though I have to admit that I am curious. Dating another man isn't something I ever considered for myself.” He looked away from Ed and picked up the chicken and bit into it.

 

“So... it had nothing to do with me?” It hurt to ask, but knowing was better than wondering. If Mustang didn't like him, then at least he could say that he'd tried...

 

Taking a deep drink from the beer bottle, Mustang glanced at him, gave him a thoughtful look, then said, “If it had been anyone else, I don't think I would have even considered it. You made me curious about you being interested in me. The rest...” Another drink. “It came a little later. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think of all this...”

 

“Sounds like a copout answer to me,” Ed said, taking a bit out of his own chicken.

 

Mustang shook his head, then said, “The truth is rarely very clear. Alright, now my question.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“It's part of the `deep and meaningful' part of the date. Women really go for that kind of talk, so I'm always sure to put some time aside for that—especially if I want to get laid.”

 

Ed blinked and digested the word `laid'. He suddenly had too much saliva in his mouth and had to swallow or risk drool escaping his lips. His groin also seemed to take note of the word `laid' and had started to react; making Ed shift in self-conscious discomfort.

 

He'd never been `laid'... Would he get laid tonight? He hadn't even thought of that possibility, but here he was, in Mustang's house, in his clothes, in the dark! It became hard to breath, and Ed had to consciously take slow breaths in order to keep himself from hyperventilating at the prospect.

 

Unfortunately, Mustang noticed the change in demeanor and said with bland amusement, “We're just going to talk tonight, Ed. Don't get too excited.”

 

Blood rushed to Ed's face and he concentrated heavily on eating his chicken and not looking at Mustang. “I didn't even think anything about getting laid...” he said, then choked when he realized what he'd said. Why was it that he was always saying things he didn't mean to?!

 

“So, my question...” Mustang said after downing the rest of the beer and setting the bottle aside.

 

“I'm ignoring your question,” Ed said around a large bite of chicken.

 

For a couple of minutes there was only the sound of the rain and wind outside, and the fire crackling in the hearth, then Mustang stood up and started for the kitchen. “You sure you don't want a beer?” Mustang asked.

 

Ed rolled his eyes, popped the last of the chicken in his mouth, then got up and headed toward the kitchen where he could see Mustang faintly through the gloom. “I should go or something... Al's probably worried.”

 

“You can't go out in that storm,” Mustang said flatly.

 

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Ed asked as he watched Mustang open the beer and take a drink. “Sleep here?”

 

“You could,” Mustang said. To that, Ed wasn't exactly sure what to say. He hadn't meant it, but the idea of sleeping over at Mustang's house was really exciting... in more ways than one...

 

“Well... maybe...” he said noncommittally. He didn't want to sound too eager. “I need to call Al.” Ed knew what Al would say and didn't look forward to that conversation, but to not call would leave his brother in a worried state all night.

 

“Phone's in my room,” Mustang said easily.

 

Ed glanced to where the man's bedroom lay beyond the reach of the firelight. “You're not going to send me in there alone are you?” Ed asked, working to keep his voice serious. “I might never come out.”

 

“Think of it as a test of courage,” Mustang said with a chuckle. “I'll come help you if I hear any screams of terror. I'll even let you take the candle.”

 

“How thoughtful,” Ed said wryly as he retrieved the candle and headed to the bedroom. Stepping carefully through the mess, Ed reached the nightstand the phone was on and picked it up. He brought the receiver to his ear, then frowned when he didn't hear a dial tone.

 

Setting the receiver back in its cradle, Ed sat down on the bed and glanced around the messy room in thought. No way to call Al and the storm outside really was too bad to be out in...

 

He bit gently on his lip. There was no way Al could fault him for staying here overnight... and, truthfully, Ed really wanted to stay...

 

“When you come back out here, be sure to bring some blankets and pillows,” Mustang called. “With the heat out, we'll want to sleep by the fire.”

 

Ed smiled a little. Mustang was a lot more relaxed in his own personal environment and Ed really liked it... He felt... well, chummy with Mustang... For the most part, Ed was having a really good time.

 

He stood and gathered two pillows and a large comforter in his arms and started out of the room. It was almost like when he was a kid and he'd had sleepovers. The thought of past sleepovers filled his mind as he struggled to keep the bedding in his arms and not stumble over anything, and he wondered what they would do for the rest of the evening.