#royedweek2024

They have no sign for "you're evil" so Roy sighs and resigns himself to another evening of polite small talk and some equally polite fendering off the hands of sons and daughters of ambitious mothers wishing for a profitable union. Just as Roy considers using Aunt Chris's tried and true method of faking a fainting spell to get out of the conversation, a small buzz is heard close to the entrance, and he turns his head to catch the big smile of Maes and his wife, the latter clad elegantly in pale lavender and matching gloves.

Behind them stride two golden figures.

Roy grins inwardly, and politely bids Mrs. Weignar and her daughter goodbye. "I must greet my old friend Mr. Hughes, you see, hope you will excuse me."

"Mustang!" Maes greets jovially when Roy gets close. "Thought I'd see your face here. Now where is lady Hawkeye? Surprised to see her letting you lose on the innocent crowd."

"I thought it prudent to let him socialize, lest he closes himself of in his estate and decides to communicate with the world entirely through letters," Riza smoothly joins in.

"The both of you have such a low opinion on my character," Roy says, and the buzz of the hall isn't loud enough for the following mutter of "The correct opinion" to go unheard.

Roy smiles, turns toward the sound and makes sure his voice is annoyingly polite when he says, "Mr Elric, how nice of you to join us this evening."

Edward's eyes flashes when he tips his head back slightly to meet Roy's eyes. "Didn't have much of a choice."

"What my brother meant to say-" Alphonse smoothly cuts in, "is that it's always a pleasure to see you, Mr Mustang, Lady Hawkeye."

Riza greets both brothers and Roy nods warmly at Alphonse, but can't help but quickly look down (ha!) to meet Edward's eyes again. "It has been a while since our last acquaintance," Roy says. "The gathering at McDougal Hall, I believe?" Edward snorts. "I haven't exactly counted the days." Roy had. Considering it was the last time he'd had the chance to fuck Edward into a wall and bury his tongue in his mouth while doing it, Roy had in fact counted the days until he got to do it again. And from the brief flash in Edward's eyes when he mentioned the event, Roy would bet the young man has a similar idea. McDougal Hall was crowded and noisy. It was all too easy to slip away from the festivities and then find an empty room in what Roy was pretty sure was close to the servants' wing. Edward's eyes following him, ablaze, from the other side of the room, making sure his brother was busy dancing with a pretty brunette before sneaking after Roy. He pulls Edward into the room, and soon their usual dance of push and pull, warmth and wetness starts as they kiss deeply. The heat in Edward's eyes was finally put to rest when he closed his eyes and moaned into the kiss as Roy pulled his shirt out of his pants.

The Edward of now looked away, and accepted the glass Hughes gave him with a murmur of thanks.

The night continued, and despite some attempts to catch Edward alone, Roy gets pulled into conversation, and by the time he looks out over the hall again, the sky outside the windows is fully dark, and Edward is gone. Roy straightens and looks for the familiar shine of gold among those present, but only catches Alphonse talking happily to the Hugheses .

At least that meant Edward was still here.

As he starts to walk over to where his dearest friend is, Roy catches a flash outside one of the larger windows close to the door leading to the estate's rose-cladden balcony. Walking closer, he catches a glimpse of someone that was surely Edward walking down the steps into the sparsely lit up garden.

After making sure no one is looking his way, Roy slips out the door. He walks closer to the large balcony's edge and finally sees Ed's smaller figure sprawling on one of the stone benches down in the garden, surrounded by some smaller trees that probably gave the illusion of privacy. Leaning down on the cool stone, Roy allows himself a moment to just....watch.

Edward in silence and solitude was a rare occurrence, often only seen when catching him in the library with his nose stuck in a book, so Roy spends a few seconds looking as Edward tips his head back and visibly takes a couple of deeper breaths.

Roy pushes himself up from where he'd leaned on his elbow and leaves the glass on the balcony as he strides down into the garden.

A familiar, small wrinkle appears between Edward's eyebrows as he hears Roy get closer, but when he sees who it is it smooths out and he says, "Oh, it's only you."

"Do not sound so disappointed," Roy says, "It hurts my feelings."

"You have feelings?"

"Very funny."

"I always am." Edward makes a gesture with his gloved hand and Roy cannot hold back an undignified snort. He catches Edward grinning before he looks down. "What are you doing out here, anyway? Did you get tired of stomping at innocent debutantes' feet?"

Roy sits down on the bench next to Edward. "I don't know if you are insinuating that I am a bad dancer, or if you are sneakily trying to get me to abuse your poor feet, but I am willing to take you up on the challenge, Edward."

Edward glares at him. "Do I look like a high-strung debutanté to you? No- don't you dare, don't answer that question," Edward quickly adds as he sees Roy open his mouth to answer.

Roy grins at Edward, then cocks his head. "I do not think I've ever seen you abuse someone's feet, though, Edward, nor do I recall you successfully partaking in social dancing either. Maybe you should prove yourself capable before questioning my dancing skills."

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” Edward says. “It’s not like I ever learnt how to dance, anyhow.”

He raises an eyebrow at Roy’s surprised blink, then throws his head back and groans, “For heaven’s sake, do you really believe that all people spend a significant amount of their childhood learning how to dance at these pompous events? I don’t know what silver spoon you were born with in your mouth, Mustang, but I had better things to do than learn the quadrille.”

Roy, in lack of anything else to say, says, “Yes, I’m sure your education was too preoccupied with other things rather than the fine arts, but you’ve spent more than eight months at the ton now, shouldn’t Hughes have made sure to have you taught by now?”

Edward just snorts, then closes his eyes again.

“Have better things to do, thanks.”

Roy remains silent at that and rises from the bench, stretching furtively before looking down at the golden crown of Edward's head.

Edward Elric inspired whispers wherever he went. Not so much for any specific action taken or honour besmirched, but rather for his entire being, his bearance and air, being eye-catching. It brought the air of scandalousness–his long hair tied behind him, his red coat and loud speech, short stature but carrying heavy steps–without there ever being any evidence of unconducted behaviour. It probably would be the cause of real concern for his guardians hadn't Edward shown a complete disregard for the attention and uproar his being naturally caused.

Always noticeable, that Mr. Elric, even when always preferring a book before hunting or riding. It wasn’t his lack of fortune that made mothers pull away their bright-eyed, eager daughters who fluttered around hoping to catch Edward’s fetching golden eye, rather it was the weary thought that surely that boy was too much, not proper, set to ruin their children’s honour…? Obsession was an unpredictable feeling, yet it was that very thing that Edward Elric, not yet twenty, inspired whenever he broke his solitude by accompanying his younger brother to social events.

Not marriageable for someone like Roy, certainly, with Edward’s dubious background. Hughes might have taken the two Elric brothers in and they might excel in their studies at university while being able to charm half the ton with their looks, but their lineage can barely be traced; orphaned and brought up in a small village by mere merchants, and while the Curtises, as it were, seems perfectly courteous in the letters they send, Edward is hardly born a gentleman.

And yet, here I am.

Roy puts his open palm in front of Edward's face, who flinches back in surprise.

Roy smiles, "Need a hand?"

Edward looks at his hand, looks up, then down again before he scoffs and accepts the assistance, only for Roy to pull him upward and forwards into his arms.

"What the-!"

"Be careful," Roy says, "I wouldn't want to accidentally step on a foot."

"Fuck you," Edward says as he tries to pull away, "I just told you, I don't know how to dance!"

"And how will you ever learn, dear Edward, if you never practice? Have in mind those who wish to dance with you, or you’ll break their hearts." Because Edward was caught by surprise, Roy manages to lead the two of them further in so they're more hidden by the thick branches above, while he simultaneously starts the steps of a Polish Waltz.

Edward stumbles on the steps. Tries to pull himself free while swearing at Roy rather excessively, in Roy's opinion.

"If you aren't quiet," Roy says, "we won't be able to match the music."

That brings Edward to a stop, and Roy can practically hear what music? before Edward catches the same thing Roy did. Either Roy left the balcony door open earlier, or someone's been out since, but the music from the ballroom can be vaguely heard from their place of hiding. The smooth sound of a violin; the whistling of a clarinet.Their [something] waltz is surely not matched by the current dancing inside, but Roy made the very rational decision the lead Edward into a dance where he has a smaller opportunity for escape.

Edward is quieter now as Roy pulls him back and forward. Roy catches himself smiling softly when Edward looks down and makes an actual attempt to match his steps to Roy's.

"Eyes up," he reminds and Edward snatches his head up to scowl at Roy.

"I'm trying, am I not?"

"That you are," Roy says, and then briefly lets go of Edward's waist to tap him on his sinking chin again and Edward quickly raises his head, "But still, don't look down."

Edward grumbles something--probably untoward--but surprisingly obeys and attempts to follow the steps while stubbornly glaring at Roy with a truly spectacular scowl.

There is something warm in the pit of Roy’s stomach, aching gently as they both move in what must be the most rudimentary dance of waltz Roy’s ever performed. 

He finds that he doesn’t mind that. Not at all.

"See?" Roy points out after they did a successful turn, and managed to not step into a well-maintained flowerbed. "You're a natural."