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whiskeycoffeeTitle: Some Other Beginning
Author: m.jules
Rating: Hard R for the whole thing
Summary: "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Alphonse Elric helps Roy Mustang face life after more tragedy than one man should endure and finds something for himself in the process.
Pairing: mainly Roy/Al, with hints of and references to others. (Including, but not limited to, Ed/Winry, Al/Paninya, Gracia/Maes/Roy/Riza, and Al/Elicia.)
Disclaimer: Arakawa would KILL me. I bow low in supplication.
Author's Notes: This was meant to be "The Story That Proves In-Character Roy/Al Is Possible." Don't know if it worked. For my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
7stages claim, prompt "New every morning."
Much love to my ever-patient betas, who put up with the strangest stuff out of me and STILL haven't turned me over to the nuthouse, and to everyone who comments every week... you're all very patient as well and I deeply appreciate you!
This is manga-verse, with every chapter yet released and scanlated as fair game for spoilers and many liberties taken as far as speculation about the future.
I am posting one chapter every Sunday night. Previous chapters can be found here.
Roy couldn’t help but notice how Alphonse kept yawning, hiding the motion behind the book he was reading, and guilt lanced through him. The younger man had been dragged from bed three times the night before with Roy’s nightmares. Mustang wasn’t sure what had triggered the unrest in his subconscious unless it was some kind of guilt over deciding to try to move forward emotionally, but after the third time he awakened to see Al sitting in that wooden chair by his bed, he made a decision.
“Would it do any good to tell you to go back to bed and ignore me if I have another one?” Roy had asked gruffly, watching Al in the light of the moon coming in through the window.
“No,” Al had responded, a fond smile on his face. “I can’t help hearing you and waking up and I can’t let you keep suffering once I’m aware of it.” At Roy’s frown, Al had assured him, “I’m fine, really,” only to be overtaken by a sudden yawn. Al had given Roy a sheepish grin and Roy had made a decision against his better judgment.
“Al,” he’d said slowly, trying to decide the best way to phrase it. “There’s no reason you should have to endure such discomfort on my behalf.” Al had looked ready to protest but Roy had continued, “Why don’t you sleep here?”
Al had stopped, blinked, snapped his mouth shut from where it was hanging open in surprise. “Here as in… with you?”
Roy hadn’t been able to tell whether Al sounded uncertain or hopeful but he’d nodded and waited to see what the young man would do.
“If you’re sure,” Al had hedged. When Roy hadn’t changed his mind, Al had gone around to the other side of the bed and cautiously crawled under the blankets, allowing a comfortable distance between his body and Roy’s. Roy had given him a reassuring smile and in no time, Alphonse had dropped off to sleep, snoring softly, his features nearly angelic in the moonlight. Roy had followed close behind and hadn't dreamed again after that, waking only when the morning sun and the smells and sounds of Al cooking breakfast downstairs teased him out of slumber.
The night’s sleeplessness was beginning to wear on Roy, too, and he couldn't quite stave off a yawn of his own, looking sheepish when Al shot him an amused glance over the book's edge.
“Sounds like we'll be going to bed early,” Al grinned. Roy’s mind instantly conjured up an image of the two of them sprawled on his bed, the red evening sunset glowing through the window and warming them like two lazy, contented cats. Some part of him added Al’s arms around his shoulders, his own draped over Al’s waist, and he fought a blush. It wasn’t, he insisted to himself, anything more than a tangible representation of the comfort Alphonse already afforded him, then wondered why he was bothering to justify it. Recklessly, he decided not to argue with himself.
“That actually sounds quite tempting,” Roy mused, earning a quick glance of surprise from his young friend.
A slow smile spread across Al’s face and he nodded, curiosity and half-formed questions in his eyes. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Roy nodded in response and pushed himself to his feet. He replaced his own book on the shelf and headed toward the stairs. “I’m going to go lie down,” he supplied over his shoulder. “By the time you finish that chapter and catch up, I might be halfway up the stairs.”
Al laughed softly and assured him, “I’ll wait for you.”
Roy wondered briefly if he was only imagining a double-meaning in their exchange. “I’ll be waiting for you, too.” He waited to make sure Al understood him before he made his slow way up the stairs, anticipation building with each step. He hadn’t had any form of physical comfort in the long months since… since. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until now, when his body seemed to ache for a soothing touch. Not sexual – he wasn’t ready for that – but simply comforting. Safe.
Being held was something he’d always liked, always needed, and his lovers had indulged him easily. He had once spent long hours curled up on Maes’ chest, Hughes’ strong arms wrapped around him, nose tucked into Hughes’ neck so the scent would surround him. Riza had done much the same, all her steadiness holding him up and holding him together. Gracia’s softness had been like a warm blanket and he couldn’t count how many times he’d fallen asleep with her fingers stroking through his hair.
Roy wondered how Al would hold him, wondered how he would feel with the young man’s arms around him. Would he feel anxious, guilty, awkward? Would this turn out to be a bad idea after all?
By the time he’d made it to the bedroom and managed to change into a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants, he could hear Al’s footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. Roy had worked himself into a knot and it didn't ease any when Al passed Roy's doorway and went to his own room. Roy turned down the blankets before he sat down stiffly on the bed, leaning his cane against the end table, and gripped the edge of the mattress as he listened to the subtle sounds of Al changing into his own pajamas. A quiet moment later, Al appeared in the doorway, watching Roy with an evaluating expression. Roy didn’t say anything and after a long moment, Al spoke.
“Would you rather be alone, Roy?” he asked quietly. “I can sleep in my room. I’ll still be able to hear you if you need me.”
Roy looked at the man, at the golden eyes sharp with perception and gentle with understanding, and shook his head. “No,” he said, relaxing his death grip on the mattress and reclining against the pillows, using his hands to help pull his injured leg up. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Al nodded and came into the room, unhurried and at ease, only a slight flicker in his eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. He slid into the bed and pulled the blankets over both of them, leaving a comfortable six inches of space between their bodies as he settled on his side, facing Roy. Roy let himself slide down until he was flat on his back. Al’s eyes were closed and the young man was relaxed but not yet asleep. Roy watched him for several long moments, feeling the slow ache of loneliness creep over his body.
Roy took a deep breath and put his hand over Al’s, startling the other man into alertness. Hesitantly, Roy brought Al’s hand over to rest gently on his stomach, all the while watching Al’s eyes for any sign of discomfort.
Al only smiled and slid a little closer, wrapping his arm around Roy and inviting the older man to curl closer. Roy did, tentatively turning into Al’s embrace. For long, tense moments, Al remained motionless, allowing Roy to get comfortable. Eventually, Roy began to relax, his arm sliding over Al’s side. Al’s hand traveled up Roy’s back, rubbing in soothing motions, and Roy breathed out a sigh of relief that Alphonse somehow knew exactly what he needed. There wasn’t even a hint of demand in Al’s touches, just protectiveness and comfort.
It wasn’t long before Roy slipped into an easy, dreamless sleep, surrounded by warmth and the security of a caring embrace.
Alphonse woke with the disorienting awareness that the bed was moving, his eyes snapping open to see Roy struggling to a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. Confusion swept in, followed by instant remembrance and guilt. Al was usually up and halfway through making breakfast by the time Roy woke in the mornings; apparently, sleeping in the other man’s arms – and there was a pink flush that rose to his cheeks at that thought – lulled him into more drowsiness than he’d expected. But then, when he slept in his own bed, Al kept himself more alert to be able to hear if Roy needed him. He supposed their close proximity had allowed him to relax.
“I’m sorry, Roy,” he muttered sleepily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go start breakfast.”
“Just hold on,” Roy grunted, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace. He took one, two stiff steps and looked back over his shoulder at Al. “You’ll need to use the bathroom, I’m assuming, so you might as well wait until I’m done. Just stay there.”
Al could feel his blush spreading all the way up his ears and down his neck. His eyes unconsciously flicked down to his lap, which was greeting the morning the way most young men’s did, and he thought that he would certainly need some time in the bathroom. “Yeah,” he muttered, lying back on the mattress, distracting himself from his state by focusing on thoughts of what would need to be done throughout the day. A thought occurred to him and he pushed himself up on his elbow, concern in his expression. “You don’t need any help, do you?”
Roy turned to give him another look, this one with an eyebrow arched in amusement. Al realized the implications and wanted to melt through the mattress.
“I usually manage all right, Alphonse, but thank you,” Roy rumbled, laughter hidden in his deep tones. Of course. It hadn’t occurred to Al that Roy usually did all this by himself in the mornings while Al was cooking breakfast.
“Right.” Al nodded, embarrassed, and lay back on the pillows. The bathroom door shut and Al closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out again. It felt wrong to be lounging in the bed instead of up doing something, but Roy had a point: there was only one bathroom in the house and Al was going to have to use it before he could get anything accomplished. That reminded him of his current dilemma and he took several deep breaths, trying to relax his body and will his morning erection away. The subtle sounds of Roy moving around in the bathroom, the scent of him that clung to the sheets, only served to foil his efforts and he groaned softly with frustration.
He couldn’t deny that their relationship was progressing steadily, deepening every day, but they hadn’t even kissed yet. He’d only slept in Roy’s bed to ward off the man’s nightmares. His mind flashed between memories – Roy’s arms sliding around him, seeking out his warmth; Roy’s ribs rising and falling under the palm of his hand, breath steady and strong; waking in the middle of night to see Roy awake and watching him by moonlight, then the fond way the man had smiled before drifting back to sleep – and ideas of what things might be like. What Roy might taste like when he kissed him; what small shifts there might be in the man’s heartbeat and breath when Al’s hands moved across him in less platonic ways than they had so far… He sucked in air and turned onto his side, chastising his traitorous mind for encouraging his delinquent body.
In short order, Roy emerged from the bathroom and hobbled back over to the bed where he found his cane. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen, Alphonse,” he said, reaching out a hand to brush back the young man’s tawny bangs before he took up his cane and went out into the hall. Al watched him go, observing the way the injury still affected him. He shuddered at the memory of that night – Roy’s blood everywhere, meat and bone on his own hands, and the older man wracked with pain that paled in comparison to the agony of his soul. He hadn’t been in love with Roy then as he suspected he was beginning to be now, but he’d cared about him all the same and it had been terrifying.
He shook his head; those dark days were past. They had come through the worst of it, he hoped, though they were both a little worse for the wear. They were still alive, though, and night couldn't last forever. He didn't think he was fooling himself to think that things were getting a little better. There was no fixing what had happened, no getting things back the way they had been, but there was still brightness to be found. There had to be, and they would find it.
Al levered himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, flushing with soft embarrassment and pleasure as he took care of his arousal, barely allowing thoughts of Roy to touch the edges of his mind. When he finished up in the bathroom, he washed his hands in the sink and headed to the kitchen, stopping in the open doorway at the sight of Roy who stood with one hand resting on the head of his cane, the other stirring something in a frying pan on the stove.
“Roy!” he protested. “What are you doing? Go sit down.” He moved into the kitchen, reaching out to take the pan and spatula from Mustang.
Roy moved, blocking Al’s access with his body, and answered lightly, “I’m cooking. I can cook, you know.” There was a smile in his voice and he nodded toward the table, indicating that Al should sit. “You fix breakfast every morning. It’s my turn.”
Al started to argue but it finally registered with him how content Roy seemed. The man was not a morning person and usually spent breakfast in a sleepy half-sulk, clutching his coffee mug for dear life. Stunned, Al sank into a chair at the small kitchen table, wondering if, perhaps, he was responsible for Roy’s good mood. Don’t be silly, Al told himself. He slept well last night. No nightmares. That’s why he’s happy.
He slept well because you slept with him, his mind argued, and Al felt his heart skip. Was he really that important to the man?
Lost in his thoughts, it was no time at all before Roy set a plate down in front of him, followed by two steaming mugs of coffee. Mustang went back to the stove and retrieved his own plate – scrambled eggs and toast with jam, nothing fancy – and lowered himself into the chair across from Al.
“My apologies for the simplicity of the fare,” Roy said, though his eyes still smiled. “We’re out of sausage, and pancakes would have taken too long.”
“We need to go to the market,” Al agreed, nodding. “And you don’t need to apologize.” He speared a forkful of eggs and lifted them to his lips, his eyes opening wide in delight at the flavor on his tongue. “Mmm,” he hummed, chewing and swallowing. “These are good, Roy. Onion?”
Roy nodded. “And dill.”
Al smiled. “They’re delicious.” Roy’s eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned up as he took a bite of his own, following it with a swallow of black coffee. Al picked up his own coffee and noticed the lighter color. He took a cautious sip and tasted the perfect amount of sugar. He looked up to meet Roy’s eyes across the table, suddenly struck with the simple intimacy of the moment. He knows how I like my coffee, Al thought, his pulse quickening with some indefinable emotion. He knows how I like my eggs.
He wanted to do something crazy – like tell Roy how he felt about him or just show him already – so he took another, longer sip of his coffee instead.
Author: m.jules
Rating: Hard R for the whole thing
Summary: "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Alphonse Elric helps Roy Mustang face life after more tragedy than one man should endure and finds something for himself in the process.
Pairing: mainly Roy/Al, with hints of and references to others. (Including, but not limited to, Ed/Winry, Al/Paninya, Gracia/Maes/Roy/Riza, and Al/Elicia.)
Disclaimer: Arakawa would KILL me. I bow low in supplication.
Author's Notes: This was meant to be "The Story That Proves In-Character Roy/Al Is Possible." Don't know if it worked. For my
7stages claim, prompt "New every morning." Much love to my ever-patient betas, who put up with the strangest stuff out of me and STILL haven't turned me over to the nuthouse, and to everyone who comments every week... you're all very patient as well and I deeply appreciate you!
This is manga-verse, with every chapter yet released and scanlated as fair game for spoilers and many liberties taken as far as speculation about the future.
I am posting one chapter every Sunday night. Previous chapters can be found here.
Roy couldn’t help but notice how Alphonse kept yawning, hiding the motion behind the book he was reading, and guilt lanced through him. The younger man had been dragged from bed three times the night before with Roy’s nightmares. Mustang wasn’t sure what had triggered the unrest in his subconscious unless it was some kind of guilt over deciding to try to move forward emotionally, but after the third time he awakened to see Al sitting in that wooden chair by his bed, he made a decision.
“Would it do any good to tell you to go back to bed and ignore me if I have another one?” Roy had asked gruffly, watching Al in the light of the moon coming in through the window.
“No,” Al had responded, a fond smile on his face. “I can’t help hearing you and waking up and I can’t let you keep suffering once I’m aware of it.” At Roy’s frown, Al had assured him, “I’m fine, really,” only to be overtaken by a sudden yawn. Al had given Roy a sheepish grin and Roy had made a decision against his better judgment.
“Al,” he’d said slowly, trying to decide the best way to phrase it. “There’s no reason you should have to endure such discomfort on my behalf.” Al had looked ready to protest but Roy had continued, “Why don’t you sleep here?”
Al had stopped, blinked, snapped his mouth shut from where it was hanging open in surprise. “Here as in… with you?”
Roy hadn’t been able to tell whether Al sounded uncertain or hopeful but he’d nodded and waited to see what the young man would do.
“If you’re sure,” Al had hedged. When Roy hadn’t changed his mind, Al had gone around to the other side of the bed and cautiously crawled under the blankets, allowing a comfortable distance between his body and Roy’s. Roy had given him a reassuring smile and in no time, Alphonse had dropped off to sleep, snoring softly, his features nearly angelic in the moonlight. Roy had followed close behind and hadn't dreamed again after that, waking only when the morning sun and the smells and sounds of Al cooking breakfast downstairs teased him out of slumber.
The night’s sleeplessness was beginning to wear on Roy, too, and he couldn't quite stave off a yawn of his own, looking sheepish when Al shot him an amused glance over the book's edge.
“Sounds like we'll be going to bed early,” Al grinned. Roy’s mind instantly conjured up an image of the two of them sprawled on his bed, the red evening sunset glowing through the window and warming them like two lazy, contented cats. Some part of him added Al’s arms around his shoulders, his own draped over Al’s waist, and he fought a blush. It wasn’t, he insisted to himself, anything more than a tangible representation of the comfort Alphonse already afforded him, then wondered why he was bothering to justify it. Recklessly, he decided not to argue with himself.
“That actually sounds quite tempting,” Roy mused, earning a quick glance of surprise from his young friend.
A slow smile spread across Al’s face and he nodded, curiosity and half-formed questions in his eyes. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Roy nodded in response and pushed himself to his feet. He replaced his own book on the shelf and headed toward the stairs. “I’m going to go lie down,” he supplied over his shoulder. “By the time you finish that chapter and catch up, I might be halfway up the stairs.”
Al laughed softly and assured him, “I’ll wait for you.”
Roy wondered briefly if he was only imagining a double-meaning in their exchange. “I’ll be waiting for you, too.” He waited to make sure Al understood him before he made his slow way up the stairs, anticipation building with each step. He hadn’t had any form of physical comfort in the long months since… since. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until now, when his body seemed to ache for a soothing touch. Not sexual – he wasn’t ready for that – but simply comforting. Safe.
Being held was something he’d always liked, always needed, and his lovers had indulged him easily. He had once spent long hours curled up on Maes’ chest, Hughes’ strong arms wrapped around him, nose tucked into Hughes’ neck so the scent would surround him. Riza had done much the same, all her steadiness holding him up and holding him together. Gracia’s softness had been like a warm blanket and he couldn’t count how many times he’d fallen asleep with her fingers stroking through his hair.
Roy wondered how Al would hold him, wondered how he would feel with the young man’s arms around him. Would he feel anxious, guilty, awkward? Would this turn out to be a bad idea after all?
By the time he’d made it to the bedroom and managed to change into a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants, he could hear Al’s footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. Roy had worked himself into a knot and it didn't ease any when Al passed Roy's doorway and went to his own room. Roy turned down the blankets before he sat down stiffly on the bed, leaning his cane against the end table, and gripped the edge of the mattress as he listened to the subtle sounds of Al changing into his own pajamas. A quiet moment later, Al appeared in the doorway, watching Roy with an evaluating expression. Roy didn’t say anything and after a long moment, Al spoke.
“Would you rather be alone, Roy?” he asked quietly. “I can sleep in my room. I’ll still be able to hear you if you need me.”
Roy looked at the man, at the golden eyes sharp with perception and gentle with understanding, and shook his head. “No,” he said, relaxing his death grip on the mattress and reclining against the pillows, using his hands to help pull his injured leg up. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Al nodded and came into the room, unhurried and at ease, only a slight flicker in his eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. He slid into the bed and pulled the blankets over both of them, leaving a comfortable six inches of space between their bodies as he settled on his side, facing Roy. Roy let himself slide down until he was flat on his back. Al’s eyes were closed and the young man was relaxed but not yet asleep. Roy watched him for several long moments, feeling the slow ache of loneliness creep over his body.
Roy took a deep breath and put his hand over Al’s, startling the other man into alertness. Hesitantly, Roy brought Al’s hand over to rest gently on his stomach, all the while watching Al’s eyes for any sign of discomfort.
Al only smiled and slid a little closer, wrapping his arm around Roy and inviting the older man to curl closer. Roy did, tentatively turning into Al’s embrace. For long, tense moments, Al remained motionless, allowing Roy to get comfortable. Eventually, Roy began to relax, his arm sliding over Al’s side. Al’s hand traveled up Roy’s back, rubbing in soothing motions, and Roy breathed out a sigh of relief that Alphonse somehow knew exactly what he needed. There wasn’t even a hint of demand in Al’s touches, just protectiveness and comfort.
It wasn’t long before Roy slipped into an easy, dreamless sleep, surrounded by warmth and the security of a caring embrace.
Alphonse woke with the disorienting awareness that the bed was moving, his eyes snapping open to see Roy struggling to a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. Confusion swept in, followed by instant remembrance and guilt. Al was usually up and halfway through making breakfast by the time Roy woke in the mornings; apparently, sleeping in the other man’s arms – and there was a pink flush that rose to his cheeks at that thought – lulled him into more drowsiness than he’d expected. But then, when he slept in his own bed, Al kept himself more alert to be able to hear if Roy needed him. He supposed their close proximity had allowed him to relax.
“I’m sorry, Roy,” he muttered sleepily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go start breakfast.”
“Just hold on,” Roy grunted, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace. He took one, two stiff steps and looked back over his shoulder at Al. “You’ll need to use the bathroom, I’m assuming, so you might as well wait until I’m done. Just stay there.”
Al could feel his blush spreading all the way up his ears and down his neck. His eyes unconsciously flicked down to his lap, which was greeting the morning the way most young men’s did, and he thought that he would certainly need some time in the bathroom. “Yeah,” he muttered, lying back on the mattress, distracting himself from his state by focusing on thoughts of what would need to be done throughout the day. A thought occurred to him and he pushed himself up on his elbow, concern in his expression. “You don’t need any help, do you?”
Roy turned to give him another look, this one with an eyebrow arched in amusement. Al realized the implications and wanted to melt through the mattress.
“I usually manage all right, Alphonse, but thank you,” Roy rumbled, laughter hidden in his deep tones. Of course. It hadn’t occurred to Al that Roy usually did all this by himself in the mornings while Al was cooking breakfast.
“Right.” Al nodded, embarrassed, and lay back on the pillows. The bathroom door shut and Al closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out again. It felt wrong to be lounging in the bed instead of up doing something, but Roy had a point: there was only one bathroom in the house and Al was going to have to use it before he could get anything accomplished. That reminded him of his current dilemma and he took several deep breaths, trying to relax his body and will his morning erection away. The subtle sounds of Roy moving around in the bathroom, the scent of him that clung to the sheets, only served to foil his efforts and he groaned softly with frustration.
He couldn’t deny that their relationship was progressing steadily, deepening every day, but they hadn’t even kissed yet. He’d only slept in Roy’s bed to ward off the man’s nightmares. His mind flashed between memories – Roy’s arms sliding around him, seeking out his warmth; Roy’s ribs rising and falling under the palm of his hand, breath steady and strong; waking in the middle of night to see Roy awake and watching him by moonlight, then the fond way the man had smiled before drifting back to sleep – and ideas of what things might be like. What Roy might taste like when he kissed him; what small shifts there might be in the man’s heartbeat and breath when Al’s hands moved across him in less platonic ways than they had so far… He sucked in air and turned onto his side, chastising his traitorous mind for encouraging his delinquent body.
In short order, Roy emerged from the bathroom and hobbled back over to the bed where he found his cane. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen, Alphonse,” he said, reaching out a hand to brush back the young man’s tawny bangs before he took up his cane and went out into the hall. Al watched him go, observing the way the injury still affected him. He shuddered at the memory of that night – Roy’s blood everywhere, meat and bone on his own hands, and the older man wracked with pain that paled in comparison to the agony of his soul. He hadn’t been in love with Roy then as he suspected he was beginning to be now, but he’d cared about him all the same and it had been terrifying.
He shook his head; those dark days were past. They had come through the worst of it, he hoped, though they were both a little worse for the wear. They were still alive, though, and night couldn't last forever. He didn't think he was fooling himself to think that things were getting a little better. There was no fixing what had happened, no getting things back the way they had been, but there was still brightness to be found. There had to be, and they would find it.
Al levered himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, flushing with soft embarrassment and pleasure as he took care of his arousal, barely allowing thoughts of Roy to touch the edges of his mind. When he finished up in the bathroom, he washed his hands in the sink and headed to the kitchen, stopping in the open doorway at the sight of Roy who stood with one hand resting on the head of his cane, the other stirring something in a frying pan on the stove.
“Roy!” he protested. “What are you doing? Go sit down.” He moved into the kitchen, reaching out to take the pan and spatula from Mustang.
Roy moved, blocking Al’s access with his body, and answered lightly, “I’m cooking. I can cook, you know.” There was a smile in his voice and he nodded toward the table, indicating that Al should sit. “You fix breakfast every morning. It’s my turn.”
Al started to argue but it finally registered with him how content Roy seemed. The man was not a morning person and usually spent breakfast in a sleepy half-sulk, clutching his coffee mug for dear life. Stunned, Al sank into a chair at the small kitchen table, wondering if, perhaps, he was responsible for Roy’s good mood. Don’t be silly, Al told himself. He slept well last night. No nightmares. That’s why he’s happy.
He slept well because you slept with him, his mind argued, and Al felt his heart skip. Was he really that important to the man?
Lost in his thoughts, it was no time at all before Roy set a plate down in front of him, followed by two steaming mugs of coffee. Mustang went back to the stove and retrieved his own plate – scrambled eggs and toast with jam, nothing fancy – and lowered himself into the chair across from Al.
“My apologies for the simplicity of the fare,” Roy said, though his eyes still smiled. “We’re out of sausage, and pancakes would have taken too long.”
“We need to go to the market,” Al agreed, nodding. “And you don’t need to apologize.” He speared a forkful of eggs and lifted them to his lips, his eyes opening wide in delight at the flavor on his tongue. “Mmm,” he hummed, chewing and swallowing. “These are good, Roy. Onion?”
Roy nodded. “And dill.”
Al smiled. “They’re delicious.” Roy’s eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned up as he took a bite of his own, following it with a swallow of black coffee. Al picked up his own coffee and noticed the lighter color. He took a cautious sip and tasted the perfect amount of sugar. He looked up to meet Roy’s eyes across the table, suddenly struck with the simple intimacy of the moment. He knows how I like my coffee, Al thought, his pulse quickening with some indefinable emotion. He knows how I like my eggs.
He wanted to do something crazy – like tell Roy how he felt about him or just show him already – so he took another, longer sip of his coffee instead.
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 03:00 am (UTC)Though my favorite bit would probably be the end of the chapter, in which Roy cooked Al's breakfast. Reading that part especially brought a warm and fuzzy feeling in my chest. ^_^
But with each chapter this story gets better. Please continue writing this! I love it!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 03:10 am (UTC)I'm so glad you're liking it. ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 03:34 am (UTC)Roy and Al are love and this fic showcases it beautifully
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 04:54 am (UTC)And did you see my thanks to you and SJ in the A/N?
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 07:23 am (UTC)However, it was wonderfully fluffy (the story, not anything else) and... had hugs. Which I like.
I'll shut up now.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 04:07 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked the hugs. *laugh*
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 07:30 am (UTC)I really love the way their relationship progresses. It's slow, but it's not boring in its development. You manage to infuse even the simplest gestures between them with so much thought and meaning that it's all kinds of lovely.
And I think this chapter just gave me a craving for scrambled eggs.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 04:11 am (UTC)(Although I'd really rather have Roy cooking them. Mmmmmm. Domestic!Roy.)
I'm so glad you're enjoying this. ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 10:17 pm (UTC)What I really liked, though? The fact that I've always imagined Alphonse's relationships starting out like this. Lots of cuddling, lots of hugs and touches, and Alphonse being so incredibly protective that it's obvious what he's feeling but not so obvious how it's going to work out.
And Roy knowing what makes Alphonse happy, and showing his emotions that way? Very nice touch. :)
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Date: 2007-02-07 04:43 am (UTC)*warm fuzzies*
Aw, thankee! I really liked this chapter a lot. The second part, with breakfast, was the first scene I ever wrote for the story and I've been anxiously waiting to post it because it's one of my favorites, so I'm really glad you liked it, too. They're just too sweet.
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Date: 2007-02-05 11:42 pm (UTC)Well done, as always! Very sweet.
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Date: 2007-02-07 04:46 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it. =^^=
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Date: 2007-02-10 10:59 am (UTC)The way you're writing Roy serves to highlight just how damaged he is. He's so cautious, where he used to be calculating. It will be interesting to see who makes the first move. Al seems as if he might, but is held back by concern for Roy, and maybe a lack of experience.
I want to sleep with them, too!
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Date: 2007-02-16 04:59 pm (UTC)And you're not the only one who wants to sleep with them! *is quite jealous*