Dreaming in Color
Title: Dreaming in Color
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 100moods #32 Embarrassed
Pairing: One sided Ed/Roy
Disclaimer: This is me, not owning FMA or the characters etc.
Summary: A bit of a sequel to Keeping Secrets. There may be more later. <3
The rest of my fics are here.
Relax, Ed tries to convince himself. Relax and he’ll never know that you got off to his stupid, stupid pretty face last night.
Morning is no less sweltering than the night before. The rain is gone, leaving only muggy air that drags at Ed’s ponytail and crawls, wet and clammy across his skin. He almost doesn’t go, but the humiliation of being hunted down and faced in the doorway, just steps away from his bed after… after last night is more than he can stomach.
It should have helped, shouldn’t it? It should have left him sated and numb, or at least made this tolerable. The phantom memory of his own hands down his belly, fathomless dark eyes gleaming at him in the darkness of his own imagination only drives him further down a road he has no business on.
He’s not sure how it is that he doesn’t panic when he can no longer stall. He stalks into the office like it’s any other day, like he isn’t moving on the tails of imagined kisses, and hands that aren’t his to hope for. The room is painfully the same as always, leather couch cushions giving easily beneath him, and an expanse of mahogany separating him from Mustang.
You can do this. It’s not like he has any idea.
He’s met with the image of Roy’s body pressed to his, the contours perfectly aligned, and there’s probably blood where he’s biting his lip to keep quiet. His fingers dig into the cushions because this cannot can not be happening here where he’s defenseless, where there’s nowhere to hide. He’ll just bet the jerk knows, but it’s not a theory he’s willing to test.
Only when he’s finally brave enough to look up, to mutter some semblance of a greeting, there isn’t even a point. Mustang’s head is pillowed against his arms, somehow having slept through Ed’s entrance. A scowl pulls at the corners of his mouth, and he stands, intent on leaving. After all, he’s not here to watch the lazy bastard nap the day away.
He’s back to the door, fingers on the handle, when Roy sighs in his sleep. It twists something, tight and uncomfortably tender in his chest. It’s agitating in its persistence, and he nearly yanks the door open just to be free of it.
Still, leaving now only means having to come back later, and he’s got better things to do. Ed’s lips curl in a wicked smile as he realizes the considerable advantage he has in this moment. He stalks back towards the desk, mischievously rounding the corner of it.
If he just hadn’t really looked at Mustang, because that’s what stays his hands. There are faint smudges beneath Roy’s eyes, and even in sleep he looks so tired. Ed’s chest clenches hard because it’s the single most human thing he’s ever seen in the man, and something in the peaceful way Roy’s head rests against his arms makes Ed wonder if he’d look so innocent with his face pressed to Ed’s pillow. Ed hardly realizes he’s staring, watching the steady rise and fall of Roy’s back and the way his hair feathers over his eyes. What Ed can see of his eyelashes lie like dark paint strokes across pale cheekbones and his irritatingly perfect mouth is turned down in a faintly weary line.
He reaches out before he ever realizes, the rest of him frozen in terror even as his fingers traitorously brush the hair from Roy’s eyes. No no no, his mind hardly has the time to scream at him before it’s over, trying to yank his hand back a second too late. Roy’s hand curls like a vise around his wrist, sleepy eyes widening in unmasked surprise.
“I didn’t have time to wait on you to decide to wake up,” Ed grumbles, horrified by the way his words stumble over each other, caught in his mouth like glue. His breath hitches, miserably obvious and he will not, will not allow himself to stare at Roy’s hand, still wrapped, warm and firm around his wrist. It’s such an innocent thing, save for the way it makes something in him squirm.
Roy blinks at him, eyes narrowing as if he’s still struggling a bit to focus. There’s something thrillingly intimate about it, because it’s blatant and honest and vulnerable in all the ways Ed never gets to see. Roy’s voice still rasps just slightly with sleep in a way that shudders down Ed’s spine. “I’m awake now. What do you need?”
What do you need?. It’s not an invitation, and he hates himself for the way his stomach flops pathetically, something in him whining pitifully as Roy releases his wrist. He hates more the way it aches when Roy’s expression smoothes out, unreadable once more, and clearly expecting Ed to retreat to the other side of the desk.
It’s only where you belong, he reminds himself, but it doesn’t make him feel any less desolate. He gathers up the shattered bits of his pride, turning his chin up a bit. “I was supposed to check in to see if you had anything for me.”
Something in his voice, in his posture, something must be giving him away, a flashing sign announcing all his secrets. Roy’s gaze on him is piercing, and it’s all he can do not to shiver under all it’s intensity. His lips turn down in a faint frown, and the delay in his response, while slight, is something Ed latches onto.
“It must’ve slipped my mind,” Roy drawls, and for a moment Ed loathes him for not being as miserable as he is right this second. Those wicked, perfect lips creep up into a familiar smirk, and Ed’s tongue is thick in his mouth, stopping him up before he can say anything else to betray himself.
The air’s too thick, and if he thought he could fight this before, now he can’t breathe. He can still feel the burn of Roy’s fingers on his bare skin, and his mind doesn’t care that Mustang is still watching him as it pushes that phantom touch further up his arm. His eyes fly open wider, round as saucers, and the only thing he can think to salvage this is escape.
Ed mutters something, somewhere to be, something that has simply got to be done right now. He hasn’t the faintest clue what he’s actually saying amidst the frantic drive to escape Roy’s scrutiny. No one stops him when he dashes back out of the office like he’s seen a ghost, and in all the rush, he never notices the dark, considering eyes that watch him run.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 100moods #32 Embarrassed
Pairing: One sided Ed/Roy
Disclaimer: This is me, not owning FMA or the characters etc.
Summary: A bit of a sequel to Keeping Secrets. There may be more later. <3
The rest of my fics are here.
Relax, Ed tries to convince himself. Relax and he’ll never know that you got off to his stupid, stupid pretty face last night.
Morning is no less sweltering than the night before. The rain is gone, leaving only muggy air that drags at Ed’s ponytail and crawls, wet and clammy across his skin. He almost doesn’t go, but the humiliation of being hunted down and faced in the doorway, just steps away from his bed after… after last night is more than he can stomach.
It should have helped, shouldn’t it? It should have left him sated and numb, or at least made this tolerable. The phantom memory of his own hands down his belly, fathomless dark eyes gleaming at him in the darkness of his own imagination only drives him further down a road he has no business on.
He’s not sure how it is that he doesn’t panic when he can no longer stall. He stalks into the office like it’s any other day, like he isn’t moving on the tails of imagined kisses, and hands that aren’t his to hope for. The room is painfully the same as always, leather couch cushions giving easily beneath him, and an expanse of mahogany separating him from Mustang.
You can do this. It’s not like he has any idea.
He’s met with the image of Roy’s body pressed to his, the contours perfectly aligned, and there’s probably blood where he’s biting his lip to keep quiet. His fingers dig into the cushions because this cannot can not be happening here where he’s defenseless, where there’s nowhere to hide. He’ll just bet the jerk knows, but it’s not a theory he’s willing to test.
Only when he’s finally brave enough to look up, to mutter some semblance of a greeting, there isn’t even a point. Mustang’s head is pillowed against his arms, somehow having slept through Ed’s entrance. A scowl pulls at the corners of his mouth, and he stands, intent on leaving. After all, he’s not here to watch the lazy bastard nap the day away.
He’s back to the door, fingers on the handle, when Roy sighs in his sleep. It twists something, tight and uncomfortably tender in his chest. It’s agitating in its persistence, and he nearly yanks the door open just to be free of it.
Still, leaving now only means having to come back later, and he’s got better things to do. Ed’s lips curl in a wicked smile as he realizes the considerable advantage he has in this moment. He stalks back towards the desk, mischievously rounding the corner of it.
If he just hadn’t really looked at Mustang, because that’s what stays his hands. There are faint smudges beneath Roy’s eyes, and even in sleep he looks so tired. Ed’s chest clenches hard because it’s the single most human thing he’s ever seen in the man, and something in the peaceful way Roy’s head rests against his arms makes Ed wonder if he’d look so innocent with his face pressed to Ed’s pillow. Ed hardly realizes he’s staring, watching the steady rise and fall of Roy’s back and the way his hair feathers over his eyes. What Ed can see of his eyelashes lie like dark paint strokes across pale cheekbones and his irritatingly perfect mouth is turned down in a faintly weary line.
He reaches out before he ever realizes, the rest of him frozen in terror even as his fingers traitorously brush the hair from Roy’s eyes. No no no, his mind hardly has the time to scream at him before it’s over, trying to yank his hand back a second too late. Roy’s hand curls like a vise around his wrist, sleepy eyes widening in unmasked surprise.
“I didn’t have time to wait on you to decide to wake up,” Ed grumbles, horrified by the way his words stumble over each other, caught in his mouth like glue. His breath hitches, miserably obvious and he will not, will not allow himself to stare at Roy’s hand, still wrapped, warm and firm around his wrist. It’s such an innocent thing, save for the way it makes something in him squirm.
Roy blinks at him, eyes narrowing as if he’s still struggling a bit to focus. There’s something thrillingly intimate about it, because it’s blatant and honest and vulnerable in all the ways Ed never gets to see. Roy’s voice still rasps just slightly with sleep in a way that shudders down Ed’s spine. “I’m awake now. What do you need?”
What do you need?. It’s not an invitation, and he hates himself for the way his stomach flops pathetically, something in him whining pitifully as Roy releases his wrist. He hates more the way it aches when Roy’s expression smoothes out, unreadable once more, and clearly expecting Ed to retreat to the other side of the desk.
It’s only where you belong, he reminds himself, but it doesn’t make him feel any less desolate. He gathers up the shattered bits of his pride, turning his chin up a bit. “I was supposed to check in to see if you had anything for me.”
Something in his voice, in his posture, something must be giving him away, a flashing sign announcing all his secrets. Roy’s gaze on him is piercing, and it’s all he can do not to shiver under all it’s intensity. His lips turn down in a faint frown, and the delay in his response, while slight, is something Ed latches onto.
“It must’ve slipped my mind,” Roy drawls, and for a moment Ed loathes him for not being as miserable as he is right this second. Those wicked, perfect lips creep up into a familiar smirk, and Ed’s tongue is thick in his mouth, stopping him up before he can say anything else to betray himself.
The air’s too thick, and if he thought he could fight this before, now he can’t breathe. He can still feel the burn of Roy’s fingers on his bare skin, and his mind doesn’t care that Mustang is still watching him as it pushes that phantom touch further up his arm. His eyes fly open wider, round as saucers, and the only thing he can think to salvage this is escape.
Ed mutters something, somewhere to be, something that has simply got to be done right now. He hasn’t the faintest clue what he’s actually saying amidst the frantic drive to escape Roy’s scrutiny. No one stops him when he dashes back out of the office like he’s seen a ghost, and in all the rush, he never notices the dark, considering eyes that watch him run.