fic: The Most Difficult Time of the Year (RoyxEd)

Dec 15, 2008 22:54

Title: The Most Difficult Time of the Year
Author: priestess_grrrl
Series: FMA
Pairing: RoyxEd
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: angst, emo, sap, Christmas, slightly AU
Notes: This is a gift fic for fullmetalrose, who sent me Daen's Holy Brownie RoyxEd doujin for Christmas (my very favorite) ! Thanks again, sweetie; this is for you! *hugs*



“Al, what the hell is that on your chest??”

Al knocked his knees together and crossed his arms over his breastplate, as if he could shrink his seven foot tall armored form into invisibility, a gesture which never failed to amuse Edward, though he was hardly in the mood for it on this particular evening.

“…a Christmas wreath…” Al’s muted voice was barely a whisper.

“A what??”

“IT’S A CHRISTMAS WREATH, OKAY??” Al puffed out his chest, or whatever the metal equivalent of that was, proudly displaying the evergreen wreath with its red satin bow. “Lieutenant Hawkeye gave it to me, and I like it, and I’m going to wear it, because it’s Christmas Eve! Is that okay with you?”

“Tch, whatever Al, I don’t care.”

“You’re lying, Brother!”

“Fine. I’m irritated that my own little brother is getting sucked in by this ridiculous, opiate-for-the-masses, consumerist nonsense that is the holiday season. Is that better?” Ed growled. I really shouldn’t take this out on Al. It’s not his fault. But I can’t help it.

“Brother! That’s mean!”

“Sorry, Al, but it’s bad enough that the entire world is covered in red and green puke at this time of year; I don’t see why you have to go around wearing it on your chest.”

“It’s not red and green puke! It’s a wreath and I think it’s very nice! You’ve been saying this nasty stuff all month. Just because you hate Christmas doesn’t mean you have to ruin it for everybody else!” Al folded his metal arms across his be-wreathed chest in protest.

Ed rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate Christmas. I hate all this stupid, smarmy crap that comes with it. What the hell does any of this malarkey have to do with me? Religion is bullshit, Al. You know that. You’re an alchemist.”

“I’m a Christmas-loving alchemist!” Al pouted.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous! Maybe if alchemists were a little less uptight - ”

“I’m not uptight!”

“Then what would you call it? I don’t understand, Brother. You always loved Christmas when we were kids, and Mom used to bake homemade bread, and knit us special sweaters, and - ”

“That was then and this is now. If you recall, a lot of the things we believed when we were kids were pretty screwed up.”

Al froze in his tracks. Uh oh, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned…

“Y-you know what…!?” Al’s voice trembled like he was about to cry. “You - you’re just mad because the Colonel hasn’t given you anything!”

“Shhhhhh! Al, not so loud! And I am not…!” Ed looked around the deserted street, paranoid that someone was listening.

“You’re telling me not to be loud? That’s a laugh! You are upset about the Colonel! He gave everyone else little presents this week, and you didn’t get one. Admit it! You’re jealous!”

“Al, that is crap and you know it! Why would I care what that smug bastard does?”

“Because you’re in love with -”

Ed tackled Al before he could finish his sentence, which only succeeded in getting Ed covered in dirt and Al’s wreath slightly mussed, which he immediately insisted on fixing with alchemy.

“Fine, Brother, do whatever you want! I’m going to the Christmas Party tonight, so I won’t be seeing you!” Al stomped off, the clang of his parting feet audible for several long minutes.

Ed sat down on the cold stone steps, letting out a long sigh. I shouldn’t ruin things for Al; I’m a terrible brother. If it made Al happy to celebrate Christmas, what was the harm in that? So what if it was a stupid holiday? So what if stupid Roy didn’t give him a stupid present? Ed didn’t give a crap, anyway.

Wrapping his hands around his knees, Ed felt very cold and very small. Not for the first time, he wished he could just stop caring about stupid things, just turn it off, like a faucet. There ought to be an array for that, he thought miserably.

But there was no array, and it couldn’t be helped: Ed hated this time of year, and there was no escaping it. He loathed all the smarmy fake cheer and the lame Christmas songs and the dumb decorations. He despised all the religious idiots who crawled out of the woodwork to redouble their brainwashing efforts in order to take advantage of vulnerable people.

Most of all, he hated the storybook depictions of family Christmases, filled with smiling, apple-faced children being fawned upon by glowing, very-much-alive mothers in red velvet dresses, while always-there fathers carved turkeys with aplomb. Nobody’s life looks like that. It’s all manufactured by people who want to sell you their crap or con you into their cult. It’s just bullshit; it’s all bullshit.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that at any other time of the year, Ed was completely capable of telling anyone who thought his life was incomplete where to shove it and how far, somehow this season always got to him. Regret was a tricky, many-headed beast. On the one hand, he claimed that he never regretted, not since he and Al had burned their house to the ground and moved on with their lives. There was no point to it. You moved on, because that’s what you had to do. On to the next challenge, the next fight.

But on nights like this, when everyone was supposed to be - Ed kicked at the concrete with his heel in frustration - in their nice warm home with their smiling, loving family, regret sank its bitter fangs into him, draining him of the will to fight. I should have provided better for Al. Al deserves the happy Christmas of his dreams. And I can’t even be decent to him for five minutes. I’m a horrible human being.

Ed put his head on his knees, tugging his thin coat around him in a vain effort to keep warm. It was just really difficult to choke down all the bitterness for what he had lost when everyone else was walking around all doe-eyed and sugary sweet, as if pine boughs and mistletoe contained some kind of mind-altering substance.

And stupid Roy wasn’t making it any easier, either. Not that Ed cared. Not that he expected that just because they were… involved, that that meant Roy owed him anything. Not that he hadn’t spent a lot of time crafting a special present for Roy and then had been too embarrassed to give it to him, after receiving nothing in return...

He kicked at the steps harder, spraying rubble across the icy ground. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t…

The sky grew darker and the air turned bitterly cold. Ed knew he should use alchemy to warm himself up before his automail froze to his skin, but he didn’t feel like it. The cold felt cleansing, somehow. Maybe it was just the fact that he was so sick of being surrounded by warmth and cheer when he felt so cold inside. Having the outside match his inside was just easier.

Ed was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he heard neither the approaching footsteps nor the accompanying snap of the fingers. All he knew was that he was suddenly surrounded by flames. They danced around him in a circle, then made their way up the wall in front of him, forming a triangle… no, a zig zag shape… no… a Christmas tree. The fire tree glittered there for a moment, then winked out.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of a statement, bastard?” Despite his sarcastic tone of voice, Ed’s heart thudded in his chest. Roy was here…? How…?

“Merry Christmas to you too, Fullmetal.”

Ed looked up. Roy stood under the streetlamp in his greatcoat, his dark hair slicked back, his collar turned up against the cold. He had a brown package slung under his arm. Ed couldn’t help but think that he looked like some kind of dark angel, about to sprout firey wings.

“Some reason you’re here?” Ed couldn’t bring himself to be nice; after all, he was still mad at Roy for being such a prick about all this.

“Oh, I don’t know, it could have been the giant Christmas-wreath-bedecked suit of armor who stormed into the party, grabbed me by the lapels and insisted that I go rescue his imbecile of a brother before he froze to death.”

I’m going to kill Alphonse. This is it. No more Mr. Nice Brother. “Well, I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, but I’m fine. I know how to take care of myself. You can tell Al that, too.”

Roy moved closer, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. “Edward, you’re freezing.”

“Yeah, well, metal conducts cold, dumbass, look it up.”

Rather than argue, Roy climbed the steps, sat down behind Ed, and pulled him into his arms. Ed thought about fighting, but he was just too tired. Roy snapped his fingers a second time and the circle of flames returned, dancing around them with practiced precision. Shivering, Ed buried himself in Roy’s coat. Roy was warm, and he suddenly craved heat more than anything.

As Roy’s arms wrapped around him, the flames moved closer, never touching, but gently flitting to and fro, providing warmth. Ed found himself fascinated just watching them spring up in front of him, like his own private festival of lights. Then at the flick of Roy’s wrist, the flames changed color, from orange to pink to blue and back to orange again.

Despite himself, Ed gasped in amazement. “How did you…?”

“It’s simple. Pure hydrogen burns pink. Pure oxygen burns blue. All I have to do is shift the chemical makeup of that particular section of flame, and voila, it’s a rainbow.” It was simple, and yet, Ed had never thought about it before.

“Watch this…!” Roy rapped his hand on the metal railing, and green sparks shot out into the night.

“Copper!” Ed practically squealed in delight, clapping his hands. Okay, Roy was still a jerk, but science…!

Roy took something out of his pocket which was wrapped in foil and held it up to the flames. Ed thought it would be some new color, but instead, when he pulled it back, a lovely smell filled the air. “Would you like some bread? I know it’s not much, but I did make it myself.”

“Y-you made it?” Ed’s eyes widened like saucers. Roy bakes homemade bread…?

“Sheesh, Hawkeye said the same thing. Apparently I come across as someone who can barely boil water. The truth is, I can be rather domestic when I want to be. Maybe if she didn’t bury me in paperwork all the time…”

Ed reached for it hungrily and realized he was starving. It tasted heavenly, like the most fluffy, buttery, bread in the world. I guess maybe I forgot to eat today…

“Mmm…. Got any more?”

“There are several loaves of it at the Christmas Party.”

Ed fell silent.

“Edward.” As Roy spoke his name, the flames flickered and died. “This time of year… it’s hard for you, isn’t it.”

Ed shifted uncomfortably, hiding his face. The cold immediately started to creep back into his bones.

“I understand. It’s… hard for me, too.”

Pulling his head back in surprise, Ed stared. “For you? Mr. Charming Smile with Christmas pins on his uniform? Mr. I-baked-homemade-bread for the Christmas Party? Mr. I gave everyone - ahem, almost everyone - presents at work?”

“Almost everyone, hmm? Is that supposed to be some kind of statement, brat?”

“What, did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Ed growled.

“Oh, I knew you’d notice, all right.”

“Is there some reason why you have to be such a manipulative asshole all the time?”

Roy sighed. “Edward, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I really didn’t mean to. I thought it would be inappropriate to give you your gift at work. People would notice if I gave you something different than everyone else. I thought about giving you one of the same token gifts I gave to everyone, but I figured you’d get mad at me, especially since your feelings about the holiday were not exactly a secret.”

“So you decided to ignore me instead.”

“It wasn’t ignoring; it was… strategic planning.”

“Yeah, well, for someone who’s supposed to be some genius fucking Colonel, your strategic plans really suck. You could have at least told me that you had something for me. Sent me a fucking memo.”

“Honestly, Edward, I wasn’t even sure if you would accept a gift from me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Besides the fact that you told everybody, loudly, in the middle of the office, that you’d deck the first person who tried to give you something with your automail fist?”

Ed squirmed. Right, I guess I did say that…

“On top of that, our relationship is not exactly… traditional. I didn’t want you to think I was patronizing you, or treating you like a girl, or any of those other things you accuse me of doing on a regular basis.”

“We’re… pretty great at this, huh.”

“Considering that everyone else in the world is currently celebrating with their friends and family in nice warm houses, and we’re sitting out here on the concrete freezing our asses off, I’d say we’re pretty fucking fantastic at it, yes.”

Ed stopped. He had to get something off his chest. “Roy.”

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Everyone… everyone’s not celebrating in nice warm houses. There’s orphaned kids sleeping on the streets who aren’t going to wake up tomorrow morning. There’s people drinking themselves to death in bars all alone because they’ve got no one to turn to and nobody cares. There’s people who are going to feel like throwing themselves off a bridge tonight, because everybody fucking acts like the appearance of this holiday ushers in some kind of blissful, happy utopia for everyone, and it’s not fucking true. It’s lies, Roy, it’s all lies, and I can’t fucking stand it anymore, I can’t…!”

A sob escaped him as he buried himself in Roy’s neck. Roy held him tightly, stroking his hair gently. Ed felt like the whole world was crashing down on him, and he just wished it would stop for once.

“Edward, I want to tell you something.” Extending his arm, Roy brought back a small flame, and Ed felt it caressing his back, sending waves of warmth up his spine.

“While we were stationed in Ishbal, every single day was exactly the same. The same gruel and grind, the same never-ending bleakness, the same mind-numbing boredom, peppered with occasional periods of absolute terror. Days, weeks, months went by without ever knowing what season it was, because in Ishbal, there are no seasons. Just endless expanse of choking hot desert.

“The only reason I knew it was Christmas at all was because they gave us extra rations that day, and nobody could believe it. It was all anybody could talk about, so even in my war-dazed state of mind, I picked up on the fact that this was a holiday that used to mean something to someone, some time a thousand years ago before this never-ending war.

“You see, each day in Ishbal was like a week, each hour like a whole day. It was hard to remember life before the war, that we had ever slept on anything besides the hard ground, that we had ever had anything to eat besides army rations. Things like swimming in a cool mountain lake or drinking wine from a crystal glass seemed like mere fantasies, like they could never have actually happened.

“That night, Christmas Eve, I stumbled into the tent I shared with Maes, bleary-eyed and exhausted, just like every night. But before I could crawl into bed, Maes insisted that I light some candles for him. Candles! Not only were candles against regulations, but they were impossible to find in the desert! Only the top brass had them, and they hoarded them like crazy. I’m telling you, Maes was a magician, he really was. If there was anyone who could make something out of absolutely nothing, it was him.

“So despite the fact that it was directly against my commanding officer’s orders to create fire in the middle of the night, I did as Maes asked. And what should appear, like a little altar between our two bedrolls, but a tiny origami Christmas tree, ringed by small pebbles he had gathered, surrounded by four little stubby candles, glimmering in the night.

“Honestly, I burst into tears. Here, in the middle of the desert, in the middle of Hell, was Christmas. Memories of the real world, the world beyond Hell’s Gate, came flooding back to me: eagerly tearing open wrapped gifts on Christmas morning, sledding through cool white snow, my mother holding my red-mittened hand as we gazed through shop windows glowing with ribbons and lights. For all of those things, and for the bittersweet pain they invoked, I just held onto Maes and I cried.

“Maes was such a rebel, you have no idea: paper was almost as scarce as candles. He had made that tree out of our orders for the next week! If the brass had found out about it, we’d have been crucified! But they never did find out. Maes had me burn all the evidence. He always was the smarter one. I’d have kept it and probably gotten flayed alive. But I would give anything to still have that little origami tree Maes made. Anything. It was the greatest Christmas present I ever received.”

Roy paused, since Ed was now crying openly. He doused the flames and pulled Ed closer, kissing the top of his head. Ed was shaking; he tried to stop, but it was just so much. So many people had died, so many things would never be the same. And no matter how hard he fought against it, no matter how much more alchemy he learned, no matter how desperately he struggled, nothing was going to change that.

Roy smoothed Ed’s hair out of his face, gently taking his head in his hands. “So, you see, Edward, you’re right. Not everyone is celebrating in nice warm houses. Not everyone has a family to return to. Not everyone even knows what day it is. You’re right that the holiday isn’t some magic pill that’s going to change everything that is horrible into some fairy-tale. But there’s nothing wrong with hope, Edward. It can be a candle in dark places. Don’t discount it.”

Ed sniffed as Roy traced a tear down his face with his thumb, then kissed his cheek softly. “Y-you must think I’m pretty naïve, huh.”

“Not at all. It would be naïve if you never thought about any of those things. The fact that you do think about them shows that you are far from naïve. But holding onto bitterness - trust me on this, Ed - it doesn’t get you very far.”

Ed didn’t want to be bitter, not really. But it was hard not to, sometimes. “So… what do you hold on to?”

“Hold on to hope. Hold on to those you love, and those who love you. Hold onto everything you’ve got, and be thankful you’ve got something to lose. Some people don’t even have that.”

Replacing his head on Roy’s shoulder, Ed wound his arms around his waist. Something to lose. Ed hated having something to lose; it made him feel vulnerable. But then, he’d always had something to lose, hadn’t he? If he ever lost Al…

Suddenly, Ed was filled with the burning desire to make things up with his brother. “Roy… you said Al was at the party, right?”

“Either that, or it has become the new fashion to wear a full suit of armor and a Christmas wreath. He’s kind of hard to miss.”

“I… need to talk to him.”

“Good, because I really need some eggnog, and my ass has frozen to this concrete.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Serves you right for being stupid enough to come out here in the middle of the night, bastard.”

“Anything for you, my love. Speaking of that, since my strategic plan has utterly failed, would you like your long-awaited present now?”

Ed’s eyes lit up as he glanced toward the forgotten package. “You really did get me something…?”

“Yes, I said I did. Here, this will warm you up. I should have given it to you immediately.”

Warm me up…? Ed tore through the package with his fortunately still functioning automail hand. Inside were what seemed to be… a pair of mismatched silver socks. With arrays on them.

“Oh… um…” Ed picked one up, unsure of what to say. They seemed to be two different sizes; one was almost twice the length of the other. Was this Roy’s idea of a joke?

“Go ahead, try them on. I made them myself, you know.”

“You knit…?” Ed didn’t know what was weirder, Roy knitting or Roy thinking he would want weird alchemy socks for Christmas.

“They’re sewn, not knit. All soldiers know how to sew, Edward. Trust me, you learn fast when you’re in the middle of the desert with only one uniform. Plus, I mostly used alchemy. Wait, try the arm one on first.”

The arm one…? Ed had been in the middle of taking off his boots. He looked at Roy, then looked at the socks again. Suddenly, it dawned on him: the small sock had a hole on both ends. They weren’t socks at all, they were…

“Oh, they’re automail sleeves…!”

“Yes? What did you think they were?”

“I… couldn’t really see them in the dark.”

“Liar. Here, let me help you.” Roy snapped his fingers, and the arrays on the sleeves lit up bright red.

Amazed, Ed picked up the smaller one and slipped it over his hand. Coming alive with alchemy, it slid up around his elbow to his shoulder, heating up his cold arm and filling him immediately with delicious warmth. “Roy…!”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful!” Ed couldn’t believe it. No one had ever given him anything so thoughtful.

“It automatically adjusts to your body temperature, though of course you can manually regulate it, too. They work in heat or cold, so you can use them in the summer time as well. I’m sure you’ll be able to tweak it to your specifications - oof!”

Ed threw his arms around Roy’s neck, leaping back into his lap. “Merry Christmas, you bastard!”

Roy recovered quickly. “I guess this means you like them?”

“I love them! Help me put the other one on.” Roy pulled off his left boot and slipped the other automail sleeve over his foot. Ed laughed out loud at how good it felt sliding up his leg. “How did you do it?”

“Flame alchemist’s secret.”

“Hmph. I’ll find out.”

“Just don’t destroy them in the process. It took me quite some time to master the technique.”

“Roy… thank you. I really do love them.” Ed reached up shyly and gave Roy a chaste kiss on the lips.

“You’re welcome, love. See, Christmas isn’t so bad, after all.”

“Hmph.” Ed squirmed a bit, reaching into his pocket. “Here.” He handed Roy a small black leather pouch.

“What is this? Mr. Anti-Christmas-Crusader is giving out presents?”

“Just shut up and open it, idiot!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll just… Oh, Edward.”

Ed watched in delight as Roy’s eyes shone. Inside the leather pouch was a small crystal phial in which a tiny flame danced and sparkled. The leaded crystal caught the light and sent a prism of rainbows all over the alley.

“H-how…?” Roy’s eyes were as round as Ed had ever seen them.

“Fullmetal alchemist’s secret.”

“But, a perpetual flame, Ed, alchemists have been trying to do this for centuries…!”

“Guess you’ll just have to figure it out. Don’t destroy it in the process. I sort of blew up a couple of labs mastering the technique. Oh, and you’ll be getting the bill for that.” Roy’s smile faded momentarily. “I’m kidding, bastard! Merry Christmas.”

This time their lips joined for a long, loving kiss. Roy whispered in Ed’s ear, “You’re amazing, do you know that? Absolutely amazing.” Ed smiled, his limbs and his heart both significantly warmed. Guess this Christmas crap isn’t that bad after all.

**

They walked back to the party hand in hand. On the way, Ed stopped to pick up a piece of trash from the street and tucked it into his jacket. Roy didn’t think anything of it until a bemused Alphonse Elric approached him next to the punch bowl halfway through the night, clutching something in his huge hands.

“Um… Colonel?”

“Yes, Alphonse?”

“Whatever you said to my brother… thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Al. Apologize, did he?”

Al opened his hands to reveal a tiny origami Christmas tree, glowing with incandescent, alchemical lights. Roy hoped Al would assume the redness in his eyes was from too much eggnog.

“I-it’s lovely, Al, I’m glad you boys made up. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Colonel!”

Roy scanned the room, but he needn’t have searched long; he only had to follow the loudest laughter to locate Ed. There was his lover, attempting to do some kind of transmutation on the fruitcake to make it stand up and dance, to the drunken amusement of Breda and Fury. Riza, who had apparently made the fruitcake, looked like she was about to reach for her gun.

“Fullmetal, I require your assistance with something.” Roy grabbed Ed by his warm metal elbow and dragged him into a secluded upstairs hallway. There he proceeded to throw him up against the wall and snog him senseless.

“R-Roy! Are you drunk? Are you crazy? What the hell has gotten into you?”

“The Christmas spirit, my love.” Roy refused to relent, kissing every inch of Edward, from his protesting lips to the tip of his nose.

“Roy! Everyone’s here! Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes, I think I have. Merry Christmas, Edward. Come home with me.”

“What?”

“Come. Home. With. Me. Now. Do I have to throw you over my shoulder?”

“Try it, bastard, and I’ll transmute your nuts into fruitcake.”

“That might be fun.”

“You really have lost your mind…!”

“Edward. I love you. Let me take you home.”

“R-Roy…”

Their lips met again, and this time Ed’s were trembling. Roy planted tiny kisses all along the line of Ed’s jaw, to his perfect earlobe, which he slipped into his mouth. Ed in turn pressed his face into Roy’s neck, nuzzling softly. His whisper was barely audible, but Roy felt it reverberate through his entire being: “Roy. I love you. Take me home.”

They made their goodbyes and stepped out into the night, hand in hand.

christmas, roy/ed, fma

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