Roy didn't bother to look up from his report when Ed kicked the door of his home office in. He listened quietly to Ed rant at him for a few moments, then raised a hand.

As requested, Ed fell silent, glaring at him furiously as Roy read the last few paragraphs and signed the form he was dealing with, then looked up. "Ah, Fullmetal. Welcome home." The phrase was still strange -- up to that month, it had been strange to say because having it be Ed's home as well was such a new thing, such an unusual one. Now it was strange simply because it was no longer strange. "Can you repeat that?"

Ed rolled his eyes, drew a breath, then seemed to change his mind on reconstructing the entire speech again. "I need you to teach me how to shoot a gun," he said.

Eyes widening slightly, Roy leaned back in his chair and quirked a curious eyebrow at Ed, trying to fight back his automatic No. "Why?"

"I'm in the military, Mustang. I've got one requisitioned to me and know jack all on how to use it. Never went through basic training, remember?"

"You wouldn't like basic training," Roy told him. "It's mostly just a lot of drill. You'd be bored stiff."

Ed snorted, pushing a pile of papers away and sitting down in the spot he'd cleared on Roy's desk. "That's not the point, Colonel. The point is that I've got this thing that I'm more likely to shoot my foot with than anything else."

Roy sighed, soft. "You have your alchemy. You don't need it."

"And if I do? Things happen, sometimes. Besides -- I hate the thought of alchemy being used to kill, you know that. And a knife only goes so far."

It was true. Roy's lips tightened but he only nodded, once. "You may be better off asking Major Hawkeye. She's a better shot."

"I'm asking you," Ed said, low-voiced, brows drawn down over surprisingly dark eyes.

"Fullmetal..."

"I know you hate guns, Mustang," Ed said, expression unrelenting. "You'd rather snap and have everything work out."

Roy glanced away first and squared a pile of papers. "Very well. I've some time this evening. We can head down to the range."

Ed didn't say any thanks, but Roy hadn't expected them. It wasn't necessary.

The shooting range was empty when they went, and Roy frowned at it. He preferred a full range when he had to practice -- it was easier to get lost among everyone else, among the thundering crackling noise of it. It didn't matter if there were nobody there to observe; he still felt he had attention on him when he was alone. It was an unnerving feeling.

He showed Ed how to load the firearm and timed him on assembling and disassembling it until Ed could do it under a minute, which wasn't too bad to start. He named brand names, and clip sizes, and let Ed slide a magazine in and listen for the click of attachment.

"This isn't so hard," Ed said, distainful. "You really gonna waste my time with this side of things?"

"You wanted basic training, Fullmetal. This is basic."

Ed understood aim well, at least, and that was no surprise. Ed could draw a perfect circle on a curved surface with any item you handed him; he knew visual space and how to use his hands in it. The kick surprised him with the first shot, which went wide. "What the hell was that?"

"The Third Law of Motion, Fullmetal. There is no shot fired without a reaction, and the impact has to be on both ends."

Pondering the gun, Ed frowned. "You're being stupid and philosophical again."

"Here." Roy stood behind him, put his hands on Ed's wrists. "Fire. I'll show you."

Ed took aim at the target and fired. Roy squeezed his wrists at the moment Ed squeezed the trigger and the bullet hit the target mid-chest.

"Not bad."

"Not great, though," Ed said. "The reaction wasn't so bad that time."

Roy released Ed's wrists and stepped back. His chest felt briefly chilled without Ed pressed back against it. "Never forget about a gun's kick. I once saw a man break his nose from it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Admittedly, he was using a rifle, but it happened. Ease up on the trigger -- squeeze it, don't hit it. A gun's easier to fire than that."

Ed shot again, and would have hit a lung. "Gonna get philosophical some more and say that it's harder, too?"

"No. A gun's the easiest thing in the world to use, once you know how. That's it's danger."

Lowering the gun, Ed quirked an eyebrow at him. "I think I'm done for now. Gonna show me to put it away?"

Roy put his hands back on Ed's, and helped him slide the magazine out, disassemble it, clean it, put it back together.

The drive home was surprisingly quiet, and Roy caught Ed glancing down at his hand now and again, as if he could feel the pressure of the gun still. It was probably not the case, Roy thought; his automail hand wasn't quite that sensitive, and he certainly wouldn't feel the cold and the metal and the weight which made a gun everything it was.

As soon as they were through the door, Ed phoned his brother as he did every night they didn't otherwise see each other. We're brothers, he'd told Roy, frankly. He may just live a few doors down but that's not a justification for not talking to each other as often as possible.

"Hey. Yeah, it's me. Yeah - heh, you too. You doing good today? ... Yeah. Yeah, me too. ... Yeah. ... Oh, not much. Stuff. Research. Got out in the evening. You know. ... Uh-huh. ... Yeah, tease her horribly for me, okay? ... Gonna be free tomorrow? Got something I want to check out. ... Great. See you then. ... You too, Al. Night."

Roy sipped his scotch, feeling the burn of it down his throat. "You didn't mention the training."

"Eh," Ed said, sitting down on the couch next to him. "It wasn't that important." He grinned at Roy.

After a moment, Roy smiled back. "I suppose not. Still -- knowing how to use a gun is meaningless if you're not willing to kill, Fullmetal."

"I am," Ed said. "I mean -- I don't want to, don't get me wrong, but I know that I can kill if I have to. I just... don't want to."

"A gun's not the best weapon for that," Roy said, quiet. "It's too easy to kill someone with one. One shot and it's over. Alchemy may suit you better for this."

Ed shook his head, slid closer. "Nah," he said. "Alchemy's too easy for me."

"Ah."

"Yes, 'Ah'," Ed mocked, then leaned up. "You planning on drinking yourself to sleep? Because I think that's boring and stupid."

Roy chuckled, sliding hands down his side. "Ah. Well, then, do you have better ideas?"

"Reckon I do," he said, then rose. "But not on the couch, Mustang, I nearly sprained something last time."

Ed shed his clothing on the way to the bedroom but Roy was slower, taking his time to unbutton and unzip and unloop items. Ed had cursed the uniform more than once and he'd found it was better to get it started. Requisitioning replacement parts could get embarrassing when it happened too often.

Roy wasn't really expecting Ed to be careful in bed, because he never needed to be, and so he wasn't surprised when Ed yanked him down, tugging on his hair until Roy kissed him.

They were surprisingly quiet during this except for incoherant, wordless noise -- this was not something they bantered with; possibly the only thing. Of the two of them, Ed was, as always, the noisier; he was given to low groans and husky moans while his hair tangled against sweaty skin, hissing between his teeth, hands almost making sound from how tightly they'd press to Roy's skin as they moved. Roy was almost completely noiseless, for which Ed would tease him -- Finally speechless, eh, Mustang? -- but he couldn't help that any more than Ed could help his noise. Arousal, need, fire would settle in him and thicken his throat until it was hard to breathe, let alone say anything, hard to do anything but close his eyes and move and move and move until orgasm would hit him hard and only then would his voice tear itself free in ragged, helpless noise.

After, Ed leaned back against Roy and Roy wrapped an arm around him. He closed his eyes to sleep, sticky and slightly uncomfortable and knowing he'd regret it, his nose pressed to the back of Ed's neck so that the scent of sweat and sex was thick enough that he could taste it.

"You hated that, didn't you?" Ed's comment was abrupt and low.

"I most certainly did n-"

Ed snorted, leaning back against Roy hard. "No, the shooting."

"I... am not fond of guns, I will confess." He nuzzled the nape of Ed's neck. "It's one of my failings as a military man."

"So you taught me just because I asked?"

Roy didn't answer. It wasn't necessary.

"Stupid," Ed said, satedly content. "Get some sleep, I have to get up early tomorrow. Working on a new array with Al."

Roy closed his eyes again, obligingly. "Goodnight, Fullmetal."

Ed's breathing slowed and smoothed out, and Roy shifted his arm slightly so that his hand rested over Ed's heart. He could feel the pressure of Ed's chest with the inhalations, could feel the subtle pulse of Ed's heartbeat, and finally he let himself relax.

He was still smiling when Ed woke him up to make breakfast.