Work Text:
____
Edward is a cruel, cruel, lover. A truly sadistic, selfish being. Heartless bastard, putting his own stupid needs over Roy’s desperation.
“I need to get up, love.” Ed’s voice is soft, muddling through his sleep- addled brain.
“ Mmmfff…”
(Is that groaning coming from him?)
“No, seriously,” Ed replies, starting to show a hint of his trademark annoyance. “I have to go use the bathroom, and I’ll be right back with water and medicine and an ice-pack.”
Roy hears him, but the only words that really register are “I have to go”. And Roy really does not want that to happen. He practically whines, “But your leg is so cold….. ”
“Roy.” Ed’s voice is sharp, now.
“Mmf. Fine.”
Edward extricates himself from Roy’s hands. The pounding in his head doubles as Ed’s leg slips out from under his forehead and he turns over, grumbling as he wraps himself in blankets. Roy is hot and cold and clammy, sweat staining his pillowcase. He allows himself a moment of misery, grumbling, before he sucks in a breath and pushes himself up into a sitting position.
His head spins, and he feels like he’s going to black out for a moment, or at least hurl his guts everywhere. He’s hesitant to move- he thinks any attempt to stand would result on his face or last night’s dinner on the floor. Fuck, Roy hates being sick. To be fair, no one likes it, he assumed. Edward in particular whines and bitches at even the smallest sneeze. But he also powers through serious illness and injury, and recovers faster than seemed humanly possible.
Roy just felt useless. Even before he was Fuhrer, before he was even a Colonel, he was hopeless on sick days. He rarely falls ill, but when he does he feels as if the world is tipping beneath his feet, and something’s shifted in the balance of his universe.
The thing is, Roy is strong. He fought in Ishval. He survived Maes’ death. He was blinded, and kept charging forward. He lived through a war, a rebellion, and came out stronger, better, smarter. He is Fuhrer of Amestris, one of the most powerful nations in the world.
And a little cold still has the power to bring him to his knees. Pathetic.
Ed’s voice is a ray of sunlight, cutting through the shadows cluttering his mind. “I told Riza you were sick, dumbass. She’ll handle it.”
It takes a moment for the words to sit in, and then he’s ready to snap. “You- what? ” But he devolves into a fit of coughing, his throat choosing that moment to let him know it feels like sandpaper.
When he recovers, aided by the glass of water Ed pressed into his hand, he wastes no time before rasping out, “Why would you do that? I’m fine. ”
Ed levels him with an unimpressed stare, arms crossed across his chest.
Roy looks away. “I’m fine. ”
Ed, once again, refuses to listen to his perfectly correct and logical reassurances. “You can barely talk, idiot. You’re not fine, and you’re going to stay home today. Yes, I know you have work to do. Your health is more important.”
Roy wants to scream. What is Ed talking about? He’s fine- not great, but fine enough to make it in time for his meetings, and do the hundred other things he has to do, like… he has a list somewhere, he thinks. And it’s not like he’s more important than the millions of Amestrians who rely on him- he can’t possibly stop for something like this.
“I just-” Roy doesn’t know what he was going to say, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s coughing again, hacking up mucus into his fist, and by the time he’s done he feels lightheaded, and has to lean against Ed.
Wait, what?
He turns his head to see Ed, staring at him with something akin to panic in his eyes. “Roy?” Ed’s voice is insistent, shaky, his eyes wide as he looks at Roy like he’s the last thing holding him together.
“Roy, I’m going to call a doctor for you.”
“....’s not that big of a deal.” Roy doesn’t really know what he’s saying. His head is muddled and he feels like he’s wading through fog thick as a swamp, and he brings his hands up to rub his eyes. “...Ed?”
Ed has moved to be kneeling in front of him on the bed, his hands on Roy’s shoulders as he looks into his eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare argue with me, Mustang. I am calling a doctor, and you are staying in bed.”
Roy really should be arguing, really shouldn’t back down this easily, but everything hurts and he feels like he’s burning and freezing and he just wants to go back to sleep. So he turns his head away from Ed’s expressive golden eyes and mumbles a “Fine” before latching on to Ed and laying his head on Ed’s automail leg.
It’s cold , without being wet like an ice pack, and Roy can’t help the involuntary sigh of relief that escapes him as he feels the metal leech the heat from his skin. Ed’s fingers are carding through his hair as Ed picks up the phone and dials the doctor, and despite the heat that lingers beneath his skin he feels himself drift off to sleep.
___
Roy blinks his eyes open as he lurches to his feet, staggering to their bathroom in a race to outmatch the swell of nausea threatening to overtake him. He barely makes it to the toilet before he’s heaving, spewing bile and half- digested food into the bowl in a rush of acid. By the time Ed gets there, he feels as if he’s been vomiting for hours although it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. There’s nothing left to bring up, but his stomach still clenches and his throat still convulses and he feels spit and mucus and hints of bile dribble down his chin.
Roy feels wrecked as he wipes his face with a rag offered to him and leans his cheek against the porcelain bowl, Ed’s hand still on his back as Ed inquires, “How are you feeling?”
Roy struggles to a seated position and attempts to offer a wry smile, although he’s sure he looks disgusting. “Like shit,” he replies, “But I don’t feel very nauseous anymore.”
Ed exhales. “Well- that’s something.” He chews on his lip, staring into the distance for a moment before jerking his head so his eyes meet Roy’s as he says, “Come on, brush your teeth and then come back to bed and I’ll get a bowl or some shit. Dr. Brandt will be here soon, and- you’ll be fine.”
Roy could have told him that. But he doesn’t feel like arguing, so he stands on shaky legs, flushing the toilet and brushing his teeth before making his way back to the bed. On his way there, he makes a quick detour to collect a folder from his desk, a list of traditional polite customs to learn before meeting with a leader of one of their potential foreign allies. He hasn’t yet managed to muck up any foreign interactions too badly, and he doesn’t intend to let a little cold break that streak.
When Ed enters the room, he opens the curtains to let in the sunlight before making his way to the bed. Roy takes a deep breath (through a stuffy nose), relishing in the glowing heat that momentarily encompasses him, washing away his worries like a shower, if only for a millisecond. The momentary peace is shattered by Ed’s emphatic “ Fuck no” as he sees Roy hunched over the file in his hands.
Roy swallows. “Ed, love, light of my life-”
“ No. ” Ed manages to look both unimpressed and almost furious, a feat for anyone but him.
“It’s only a bit of- reading. It’s light, I’m not-” Roy shivers- “ working, or anything.”
Ed, predictably, is undeterred. “Roy fucking Mustang, you bastard, give me that goddamn report right the hell now.” He sets down the bowl and glass of water before throwing his hands up in the air, in typical Edward Elric fashion. He jabs Roy in the chest and forcefully yanks the file out of his hands, setting it down on the desk behind him. “Roy, I swear to god, you are going to rest or I’ll beat you over the head with this fucking file.”
Roy just stares. Ed is exasperating, and Roy should be annoyed with him, but the light hits him just right- a beam of sunlight dripping across his hair, dappling his cheeks, illuminating his eyes to look even more like molten stars.
(Roy probably has a goofy grin on his face, but honestly? He could care less.)
“What- why are you looking at me like that, dumbass, I’m literally yelling at you right now.” Ed is indignant and confused and aggravated, and with every expletive that slips from his lips Roy falls a little more in love.
Roy sighs. “I love you.”
Ed blinks. “Yeah, you too, bastard.” He hesitates a moment before clambering into bed with Roy, leaning against his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his clammy cheek.
Roy smiles at him and lets his eyelids slip closed to the sight of Edward Elric snuggled up against his shoulder.
____
“I don’t know how Chris did it. You’re weird when you’re sick- weirder than normal, which is an accomplishment- And there’s more- there’s more of this! ‘Get worse before it gets better’, he says, fucking god …”
Ed is pacing around the room, tearing his hair out, while Roy reclines on the bed and watches on, amused. “Shouldn’t I be the one complaining about my supposedly intensifying illness
? I am, after all, the invalid here.”
Ed whirls around to face him. “You- shush. I know you’re feeling better right now, because you’re actually looking at me and talking like you usually do in that stupid smug bastard tone. And I’m allowed to complain, you-”
“What do you mean, ‘actually looking at you’?” Roy interjects. “Am I not giving you enough attention, love? I was under the impression we had several interactions last night and this morning.”
Ed sighs, slouching. “Yeah, but you weren’t really there , ya know? You were talking, but lost track of the conversation, and your eyes were glazed over. Fever. Scared the crap out of me.”
Roy blinks. “Oh.” The pounding in his head is intensifying, the haze thickening. It’s rather distracting. “Sorry?”
Ed, if possible, is even more annoyed. “Fuck you, you’re doing it again , which means you’re feeling like shit and I can’t give you more medicine yet.” He devolves into mumbles, but Roy is content to sit and listen rather than try to pick up what he’s saying, his words like fraying threads that Roy just can’t grasp.
Ed comes over to the bed a moment later, looking at Roy with uncharacteristic softness. “Drink some water and then go to bed, dumbass.” He sends Roy a fond look as he settles in next to him, turning off the main light and grabbing a smaller one to illuminate the book in his hands. “Sleep well, Roy.”
____
The next day is spent in a haze of fever and slight bouts of nausea, thick blankets that become too hot too quickly. It’s full of soft moments with Ed, murmuring thanks and love into his ear as they relax into the break from work, relishing in the domestic time with each other. Roy doesn’t even look at the files on his desk, and Ed only opens his book when Roy’s asleep. Ed is a bit of a worrier- not like Roy didn’t know this- but they both manage to relax around late afternoon.
Roy dozes off around then, bundled like a burrito in a knitted blanket on the couch. Ed’s sitting on the floor, head resting on the couch near Roy’s stomach as he quietly snores.
There’s a silent, unobtrusive moment slipped in between the haze of sweaty, febrile sleep, when Roy’s not sure if he’s dreaming. Through the crack of his eyelids, he sees the door open and Riza slip in. She moves around the house in silence, and Roy’s eyes drift closed to the sight of Riza with a camera. (She gives the pictures to Roy when he returns to the office. They’re beautiful and meaningful, but he shouldn’t be surprised; it is Riza, after all.)
That night, his fever breaks, and Roy wakes to a clear mind the next morning for the first time in two days. Ed is still asleep, curled up on the floor. For all his considerable trauma, Ed sleeps like the dead, so Roy can carry him to their bed and tuck him in without issue. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of him asleep under the blankets before taking a much- needed shower and starting to cook breakfast.
Ed comes out of the room just as Roy is finishing, stumbling into the kitchen with horrible bedhead. Roy loves him so much. “Good morning, Edward!”
Ed fixes him with a disgruntled stare. “Are you cooking?”
“Yes, I made breakfast”, Roy replies.
Ed stomps over to him, grumbling as he sees the plates and the still-on stove. “Dumbass. I’m better at making breakfast than you.”
Roy does know this, but he decides not to care. “I’m aware. But you were asleep, and I was... hesitant to wake you.”
Ed picks up their plates and carries them to the counter. “But I would have cooked for you. You love my food.” He sounds almost petulant.
It’s adorable. “That’s alright. Yesterday, you cared for me. I want to take care of you, too.”
Ed gives a noisy sigh. “Fine. You’re welcome .”
They spend the rest of their (admittedly subpar) breakfast in comfortable banter. When Ed gets up to wash his plate, Roy stops him, taking it to the sink and ignoring Ed’s complaints of “I can do it myself.”
As Roy is drying the dishes, he glances over at the clock on the stove, noticing the late hour of the morning- almost afternoon. He makes a snap decision, glancing over at Ed who’s reading in the chair, to say, “I’ll stay home today too.”
Ed looks up from his book, shocked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t want to get anyone sick. Besides, I can get some work done here as well.”
Instead of agreeing or thanking Roy, Ed sets down his book and jumps up, charging forward. He huffs as he removes the plate still in Roy’s hands and pulls his head down into a passionate kiss.
Roy chuckles as he pulls back after a minute, a little surprised. He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but Ed beats him to it. Ed sighs as he burrows his head into Roy’s chest, his arms looped around Roy’s neck, and he murmurs, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Edward. Is something wrong?” He asks, because Ed is rarely this pliable, this gentle, this sincere with his words and mannerisms.
When Ed pulls back, he’s still smiling. “Yuh-huh. I’m fine.”
Roy raises an eyebrow.
His lover rolls his eyes as he says, “Fine. You were sick. You freaked me out. Now you’re fine. Can’t I love you, stupid, without something being wrong?”
Roy relaxes minutely. “Yes, of course. I’m fine, I love you too, I was just concerned at your admittedly odd behavior.”
Ed is drawn out of whatever funk he’s in by the (exaggerated) pretentiousness in Roy’s voice. “Do you always have to talk like that, Führer Mustang ?”
“Why, of course I do Fullmetal, it’s only proper.”
Ed rolls his eyes.
“And you shouldn’t be kissing me, I’m likely not recovered yet.”
“Screw that. I haven’t properly kissed you in two days, I don’t give a single fuck if I get sick.”
____
(When Ed wakes up to a raging fever two days later, Roy only says a variation of “I told you so” once.
Maybe twice.)
____