Five years after the hell of metal and blood, Ed decides that it’s time to find out what kissing tastes like. Al just smiles when Ed announces that he’s going to visit the Colonel, “have fun, brother, and don’t be too wild”. What a strange thing to say, Ed thinks when he storms into Mustang’s office, slamming the door shut like roaring thunder and striding over to the man with eyes as burnt-out coal, the man with fire on his hands, his smile and goddamn perfect touch and a warmth that Ed intends to steal away. As if anyone could tame him, Ed thinks. He’s the Fullmetal Alchemist. And then - shit, fuck, he hates it so much when Al’s right.
“Kiss me.”
His demand has Mustang wide-eyed, stilling. Then, he stands up. Ed’s aggression suddenly fades away, he stutters his broken request again, spits it almost like an insult - “I waited so long, you bastard, and if you’re not gonna kiss me already, right now, then I swear I’ll fuckin’ - “ He’s just going to leave, run away and scream, what a horrible idea this was, he’s an idiot and lovestruck on top of that, oh God -
Roy Mustang doesn’t tame him. He doesn’t cage the pure electricity in Ed’s veins, doesn’t put chains onto his heart; instead, his soft mouth whispers “Fullmetal” and “finally” against Ed’s shivering lips, and the kiss tastes like smoke and the dark, low hum of Mustang’s mouth pressing against his own with heat and gentleness and an adoration that Ed thought he’d never deserve.
Goddamn Roy Mustang, the man who doesn’t shut him down, the man who sets him free and lets him fly.
