On some level, Roy knew that marriage would be a good career move.

It was one of those things he meant to do, eventually, much in the same way that he thought he ought to buy a few paintings for the living room in his house. When he sat down on the sofa at night, with files or research or even a good book, he always stared at the two spots on either side of the fireplace, and made the same mental note every time: Do something about the empty space.

Maybe it was something inherently procrastinatory in his nature. After all, there were always a list of things to be done, and when the choices were feeding himself a late dinner or going to an art gallery, Roy chose food.

The thing was, though, he wasn't getting any younger. And while older officers might look at him indulgently as a reminder of their idealized younger selves, Roy knew that they thought a spouse was a desirable accessory for an officer moving his way up through the higher ranks.

The Fuhrer and the generals all had wives, and sometimes even children. Even General Keller had his young man, who wasn't really so much a young man anymore as a distinguished gentleman.

It wasn't that marriage was an unattractive idea. When he was younger, he hadn't minded being single. He'd laughed at Hughes, who had proposed to Gracia after an almost scandalously short interval. Hughes and Gracia were still completely besotted with each other, and it was difficult not to wonder what his life would be like, had he chosen a similar course at the same time.

Expectations were tricky beasts, and Roy had spent no small amount of time considering what was expected of him. He supposed that he'd internalized the ideal life of an officer, somewhere along the way. The life the upper brass seemed to live - proper house, competent companion, and maybe children. But for every happily married officer like Hughes, there were five others whose marriages couldn't withstand the pressures and long absences of military life. He'd gone to too many military balls, and seen too many false smiles, not to know that Hughes was one of the lucky ones.

Hughes seemed to realize that. Not that Hughes didn't automatically think himself the most fortunate man on the planet because of his beloved wife and child, because he did. But he seemed to realize that with every passing year, Roy was still alone. Not that Roy didn't have plenty of offers, as Hughes was at pains to remind him. Sandwiched in between Hughes' extollations of the virtues of married life were pointed observations on the number of women who would leap at the chance to be decorative on Roy's arm. And Roy knew that, he did - but all he had to do was spend one evening with Hughes and his family to remember why none of them would do, not when he could see the real thing right in front of him.

Frankly, Roy was bored with the dating game.

Going out with women just wasn't any sort of challenge anymore. Perhaps it really was a young man's game - at 17, everyone had marveled over his ability to do and say the right thing to any woman he wanted, and Roy had loved the game. A nice evening out, and if he did A, B, and C, she would invite him in for coffee. Sex was warm, and fun, and a brief connection in the otherwise unsettled world of a junior officer, always on the move. And honestly, there were few pleasures to compare to the privilege of seeing a beautifully curved set of breasts in a dress all night, and then getting the chance to observe them unclothed.

But as Roy got older, it occurred to him that the most perfect pair of breasts just wasn't going to cut it, not if he was so terminally bored with the rest of the package. So he dated women who were nice, intelligent, perfectly personable.

But still - just nothing. It was like snapping his fingers in a rainstorm.

Which was probably why he allowed Fullmetal to carry on so - Edward Elric was sheer entertainment. Really, Roy thought it was quite amazing that Fullmetal went right on spitting vitriol with his cheeks flushed such an attractive color. He didn't even slow down - which actually wasn't that surprising, because Fullmetal was like a force of nature once he got a good head of steam.

Roy interrupted him mid-rant with one raised hand. He drained the last of his morning coffee out of his cup, relishing the last bit of sweet, life-giving caffeine. "Now," he said, setting his cup down on its saucer. "What were you saying?"

Fullmetal looked like he might tear out his own hair. "I was talking to you for five minutes, you shit colonel - weren't you paying attention to anything I was saying?"

Roy kept his expression carefully bland. "Sorry, I was distracted."

If there were better things than Fullmetal having a hissy fit, Roy just didn't know what they were.

Fullmetal muttered dire threats under his breath before resuming his attempt to wear a hole in the carpet in front of Roy's desk. "I was saying -" a murderous glance in Roy's direction, "that I was minding my own damn business, doing official research, and they kicked me out of the library!" Fullmetal sounded righteously aggrieved, like the entire world had conspired to have his noble, skinny ass thrown out of a research establishment.

Roy looked down at the report in his hand. "Apparently, the librarian on duty felt you were disturbing the other patrons." He raised one eyebrow at Fullmetal. "What could you have been doing, I wonder?" he asked, letting just the right amount of insinuation into his voice.

He'd expected Ed to get angry, and he was right, but he hadn't expected the blush to deepen.

"I looked for that book for months," Ed said venomously, "and it wasn't enough that it was completely useless - it was just plain wrong."

It occurred to him, suddenly, that maybe he was looking for sparks in all the wrong places. Maybe it was stupid to wait for the ideal to come along, all to fulfill the perfect image of the perfect officer.

When it came down to it, Roy was a procrastinator, but he did have priorities. And if he didn't want this spark to die with a lonely hiss, perhaps he ought to consider rearranging some of those priorities. Because Edward Elric could never be decorative on anyone's arm - unless one favored imminent, continued explosion in one's immediate vicinity.

If Ed ever cooked for him, it would probably be accompanied with aspersions on Roy's character and basic skills in life. Ed might find something to do with the blank spaces next to his fireplace, but it would probably be something like research notes or an impromptu game of darts. Ed would certainly qualify as the grumpiest date ever for a military ball, and as for warming his bedsheets -

Roy realized he must have been staring at Ed with some kind of intent, because Fullmetal was turning even redder.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Fullmetal asked, teeth gritted.

Maybe it really was time to stop procrastinating.

"Would you like to have dinner tonight?" Roy heard himself asking.

Fullmetal's jaw actually dropped open. "W-what?"

"You can tell me all about the library thing then," Roy said. "I'm a little busy right now, you see."

Fullmetal stared at him, and the tirade resumed, "Oh, you bet I'll have dinner with you - you have to do something about this, and by the way, I'm not paying, you cheap bastard..."

The rant of imprecations against Roy continued as Fullmetal stalked out of his office, and Roy smiled.

It was debatable whether Edward Elric was a young man, but in a few years, Roy thought he might become a very distinguished gentleman, indeed.