Work Text:
Roy didn’t need to look up from his paperwork as the door to his office swung open. Only one person he knew would barge into a Colonel’s office without knocking. The telltale creak of automail, stiff around the joints from a few too many days of poor maintenance, confirmed his suspicions.
“Hello, Fullmetal,” he sighed. “Would it kill you to knock?”
“Once you stop giving us false leads I’ll start knocking on your damn door, bastard,” Ed spat. “I’m sick of you toying with us. I’m not your personal errand boy!”
Mustang leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands behind his head and giving Ed a lazy, condescending smirk. He saw Hawkeye give him a disapproving look for his pettiness out of the corner of his eye. He ignored her. He’d been working all day, he deserved to taunt Fullmetal a little. As a treat.
“Funny, I thought you signed up to be the military’s chihuahua.”
To Mustang’s joy and complete lack of surprise, Ed bristled and exploded. “WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL YOU COULD PUNT HIM ACROSS A COURTYARD? I MAY BE A DOG OF THE MILITARY BUT I’M AT LEAST A ROTT–” Ed cut himself off abruptly, wincing.
The smile on Roy’s face slipped into a frown. “Fullmetal. What’s wrong? Are you injured? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”
Ed scowled and clenched his fists. “I–” he tried to speak, but his voice came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m fine. Get off my back already, would ya?” It didn’t escape Roy’s notice that he didn’t answer the question.
“Fullmetal…” Roy said, warningly, “I would rather not have you pass out in my office because you were too stubborn to get an injury treated. The higher-ups wouldn’t be happy with me.”
Ed rolled his eyes. “I’m so touched by your concern, but like I said, I’m fine.”
Roy narrowed his eyes, but nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Since you’re in perfect health, I expect you’re going to give your report now?”
At that, Edward froze, his eyes darting away. Roy raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Fullmetal?”
Ed clenched his jaw. “I forgot to write it.”
Mustang gave a melodramatic sigh, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t believe you, Fullmetal. Taking up so much of my time without even a report to give me?”
“Oh, shut up! I’ll write your damn report.” Ed grabbed the pen out of Mustang’s hands and stomped off to an empty chair. He fished out a crumpled, blank piece of paper from his pocket, which earned a slight twinge of annoyance from Mustang. He knew better than to provoke Ed any further, however. There was only so far he could push him before he became entirely uncooperative.
Another half hour passed before Mustang sighed heavily and added his latest form to the messy pile of finished paperwork gathering on his desk. He took a moment to close his eyes and attempt to rub away the beginnings of a headache.
“Would you like me to get you some coffee, sir?”
He smiled gratefully at Hawkeye. “If you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate some right about now.” She gave her usual curt nod and headed off towards the cafeteria, leaving Roy and Ed alone in the office. Mustang stretched and yawned, taking Hawkeye’s absence as an excuse to take a break. His eyes landed on his young subordinate. He had stopped writing and seemed to be staring off into space.
“How’s the writing going, Fullmetal?”
Ed didn’t snap out of his daze like Mustang had expected. Instead, he slowly dragged his gaze over to meet Roy’s. “Hm? Oh, th’report. Sorry, I got distracted. M’almost done.” His hand moved at a snail’s pace as he picked up the pen and resumed scrawling his messy handwriting onto the page in front of him.
This… was concerning. “Are you alright?”
“Hm? Yeah, m’fine. Almost done,” he repeated.
At this point Roy was starting to worry that Ed had suffered a head injury on his last mission. In that case, he needed to report to the infirmary as soon as possible. Without anyone else in the room, Roy had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. Ed didn’t seem likely to admit weakness on his own any time soon.
Standing and stretching, he strode across the room and crouched in front of Ed. “Fullmetal. Look at me.” Ed’s eyes sluggishly shifted from the paper in front of him to Roy. “What’s today’s date?”
Ed looked confused. “Wha… May 7th. Why?”
Roy nodded and held up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
At this, Fullmetal frowned and shoved at his hand. “M’fine, Mustang. Stop it. Lemme get back to work.”
Mustang snatched the paper out from under him before he could resume working, despite Ed’s small cry of protest. The handwriting was shakier than normal, and the scribblings on the paper turned out to be near-incomprehensible nonsense. He crossed his arms, matching Ed’s glare. “Something is clearly wrong. Now are you going to admit it or are you going to make me figure it out myself?”
Ed ground his teeth as he swiped at the paper in Mustang’s hand. He dodged and gave Ed a pointed look. Fullmetal near growled with frustration. “I told you, Mustang! I’m fine! Give me back my damn pa–!” His voice caught on the last word and he momentarily choked before burying his face in his arm and succumbing to a painful-sounding coughing fit.
Roy’s frown only deepened. “So help me, Fullmetal, if you’ve been hiding a lung infection…” while Ed was still coughing, he took the opportunity to firmly press his palm to Ed’s forehead. It was blazing hot beneath his hand.
Immediately, Ed’s eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath, which only started him coughing again. Startled, Roy began to awkwardly pat him on the back, hoping to offer some comfort or relief. The distant and panicked look in his eyes didn’t fade along with the coughing fit, and with some alarm, Mustang noted that his breathing had picked up considerably. The signs of a panic attack were clear to him, ingrained into his mind from the years following Ishval. He cursed himself for not remembering. In Ed’s disoriented state, a hand to his forehead would no doubt bring back painful memories.
Roy crouched down beside his subordinate once again. “Fullmetal, breathe. You’re in a military base, in my office. You’re safe.” Ed’s eyes focused on his face, although the distant look remained. “Good. I’m going to touch your arm now, and I’m going to draw a square. Breathe in when I go up, and breathe out when I go down.” He began to trace the outline of a square on Ed’s flesh arm. His eyes seemed to fixate on it, but he followed Roy’s instructions. Gradually, his breathing slowed.
After a while, Ed’s breathing had returned to normal, although the distance had been replaced by a glassy stare and the shivering hadn’t stopped. Roy hesitantly removed his hand from his arm, unsure of what to do from there. Ed’s breathing began to pick up again and Roy hurriedly replaced it. After a moment of hesitation Roy came to a decision.
If Ed was in a right state of mind, he would have never even begun to consider doing what he did next. In the current situation, he saw no other choice. With some forewarning, he pulled Ed out of his chair and hugged him tightly. Ed seemed to relax within his grasp, smushing his face into Roy’s chest. Roy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how on earth it had come to this, but as he felt Ed’s shivering slow, he knew it was worth any embarrassment.
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“Sorry I took so long, sir, there was a rather long… line…” Hawkeye trailed off. Whatever she expected to see when she re-entered the room, it wasn’t the colonel huddled on the floor, cradling what appeared to be a shuddering Edward Elric. “Sir?”
Roy gestured for her to come in. “He’s running a rather high fever. I believe I inadvertently triggered a panic attack, but he’s recovering.”
Hawkeye nodded, kneeling in front of them. She reached to feel Ed’s forehead, but a warning shake of Roy’s head had her gingerly placing her hand against his neck instead. Mustang was right. It was much too hot. She couldn’t tell if the shaking was from fever chills or from anxiety, but either way it was concerning. He seemed to take some comfort from the pressure of Roy’s semi-hug, however. She stood up abruptly. “I’ll alert Alphonse and the infirmary. I believe it’s best you stay here with him.”
Roy nodded, and Hawkeye left the room without another word, leaving him and Ed alone once more.
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Several days later, Ed was back at work. No mention of the… “incident” had been made. He seemed to be in good health once more, save for the occasional cough and the lingering scratchiness in his voice. He had acted perfectly normally when he came into work that morning, barging in as usual and waving away the well-wishes his coworkers had given him. Roy was glad for this. He hadn’t been sure how to handle it if things became awkward between them after such a breach of boundaries.
Well, whatever. What was done was done. Roy wasn’t in the mood to dwell on it for long. His head felt rather fuzzy, as though he were trying to think through molasses.
Abruptly, Fullmetal stood from his chair and marched up to Roy’s desk. He thrust out the finished report. “Here. I’m done.”
Roy accepted the finished paper and skimmed over the messy handwriting. It was like much of Ed’s work, except… he noticed that the usual angry comments were gone, and it even looked like he had put effort into making his words legible. Oddly touched, Roy set down the report and gave him a curt nod. “Acceptable. You are dismissed, Fullmetal.”
Ed didn’t leave. Instead, he averted his gaze and stared down at the desk, appearing uncharacteristically nervous.
“...Is there something more?”
“No. I mean, um, I just wanted to say th-thanks.” With that, Ed turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
After a moment of surprise, Roy could not keep a slight smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. A glance towards Hawkeye revealed the glint of approval in her eyes. He returned to his work with a newfound sense of closure.
As he signed off another form, a sudden tightness gripped his throat. He cleared it sharply. The tickle didn’t subside, however, and a short cough swelled from his chest before he could stop it.
“Are you alright, sir?”
“Y-” he began to answer, but was cut off by another cough. Stifling them didn’t help the lightheadedness that was slowly overtaking him, like a thick fog rolling up from the sea. He coughed a few more times, but the scratchiness at the back of his throat stubbornly remained. Oh.
Well. Shit.