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kaltia

Cohabitation


"You know," Ed said, after a pause, "This isn't going to work."

Roy didn't stop stirring the little mug of coffee, though his shoulders grew tense. "Fullmetal?" he asked, guardedly.

Ed pointed the potato peeler at him. "This... threesome thing," he said, and grinned wolfishly at Roy's horrified expression before the man could hide it. "Hah! Yeah, I know all about you and my brother, and what you're really doing when I'm not here. Oh, don't look like that, he tells me everything—I've known since day one."

"Everything?" Roy asked, and was pleased that his voice came out without a hint of a waver. He tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug to drain the last drops, and then tossed it in the sink; leaned with his back against the counter and laced his fingers around the coffee mug. "You don't seem to object," he pointed out wryly, and Ed shrugged and dumped the last potato in the pan.

"I'm not," he said. "Al's an adult now, and believe me, I'd know if you started doing perverted things to my little brother." A pause. "Well, more perverted than normal, I mean."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Then why bring it up, if you have no objections?" he asked, leaning forward to breath in the steam. Mmm, coffee. Best thing for a human to have, when he'd just gotten home from a long, tiring day at work.

"Well," Ed said, and shrugged. "I thought you should know. Because, uh, I moved him in with us."

"You what?"

"I moved him in with us," Ed repeated, defensively. "I figure the bed's large enough, and 'sides, your closet has loads of space and it's not like he's got much in the way of clothing."

Roy closed his eyes, and said, very slowly, "What part of 'this is my house' are you having problems with, Fullmetal?"

Ed shrugged, and smiled. "He's asleep now," he said, shifting the pan to the cooker. "You're not gonna kick him out, are you?"

Roy sighed. "No," he said, eventually. "He can stay. Just next time you want to make a change to my life, ask me."

Ed grinned. "Sure," he said, and turned back to preparing some sort of salad. He didn't say anything for a while, and Roy felt the tension ease; he drained his mug, and put it in the sink. Really, it wasn't so bad. Ed had done worse, hadn't he? He turned to leave, and sensed—movement in his living room?

On entering said room, he stopped. And stared. The cats stared back. All—he counted—twenty five of them. "Edward."

"Hmm?"

"I thought you said he didn't have much—-"

"—in the way of clothing, right, right." Ed came to stand beside him, grinning fit to burst, and Roy wearily rubbed at his forehead. This was going to be difficult.