Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I am BLIND, not useless. I can sit down by myself!”

Alphonse giggled to himself at the loud cry, curling the woven hospital blanket over his thin shoulders as Roy Mustang elbowed the young nurse fretting over him. The nurse chewed his bottom lip nervously, hovering his hands above Mustang’s shoulders as he patted the sheets on Alphonse’s bed with a bandaged hand. He leaned on it with a slight grimace, and the nurse panicked, darting forward to pull him back by his arm.

“Sir, please,” he pleaded, voice high pitched with concern. “You need to be more careful-”

“I. Can. Handle. Myself.” The Colonel hissed through gritted teeth, his jaw tight with irritation as he tried to shove the young man off of him. “Leave me alone,”

The nurse's shoulders slumped with an exaggerated sigh, and Al couldn’t resist a grin at the theartics in front of him. Mustang’s reaction to the overbearing nurse was eerily similar to how his brother responded when people pampered him because of his automail. When he was young and still getting used to handling his metal limbs, people would hover over him constantly in an attempt to keep him safe while Edward yelled that he didn’t need special treatment. His brother hated being treated like he was made of glass when he was just as capable of managing himself with two metal limbs, and it seemed Mustang felt the exact same way.

Mustang stared the nurse down with a scowl, his silver, cloudy eyes just as intense as they had always been, keeping the nurse at arm’s length. The nurse looked conflicted for a moment, his worried gaze shifting from Mustang’s annoyed expression to Alphonse’s amused one, then sighed, swinging his hands.

“Alright then,” he said, defeated. “I’ll leave you be. I will be outside the room if you need me,”

“Thank you,” The Colonel answered, the dismissal obvious in his tone.

The nurse shuffled away, giving one last glance over his shoulder before shutting the glass door. When the door clicked, signaling that it was shut, Mustang sighed, staring blankly at the wall in front of him as he slowly lowered himself onto the bed. He shuffled for a second, patting the sheets around him to make sure there was space, and then a soft smile graced his features. He closed his eyes briefly, suddenly letting out a chuckle, and turned his clouded gaze in Al’s general direction.
“Man, is this what they treated Edward like when he got his automail?” He asked, an amused exhale escaping his lips. “It’s like if I go to the bathroom by myself I’ll break,”

Alphonse smiled, pushing himself upwards on his sharp elbows. Besides the explosive fury that came alongside his brother’s automail, there was also the typical cooing and coddling from strangers. When they saw the limbs, people would switch from treating him like a child to a baby, speaking to him in sugary-sweet voices, directing questions that Edward was fully capable of answering to Winry, Granny, or even Al. They would pat his head and crouch down to speak to him, and Edward would kick them in the knees and demand that they speak to him directly. It was one of the few times Winry didn’t mind Ed screaming at people, and would even join in on occasion.

“All the time,” Al said, allowing the memory to fade. “It didn’t last very long though. He made sure of that,”

Mustang laughed at that, closing his eyes. “Why am I not surprised? Maybe he’ll give me some tips on how to manage hovering nurses,”

“He’d probably just tell you to yell at them until they leave you alone,”

“Oh, probably,” he agreed, shaking his head in a knowing manner. “That does seem to be his solution to everything,”

“Yeah,” Alphonse nodded, shuffling his hands.

He felt awkward. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. While he was grateful to have a visitor, and even more grateful to find out that it was the Colonel, he hadn’t expected to see him so soon after everything. It had only been a little over a day since the Promised Day, and in the brief time between coming back to the world and being transported to the hospital, Al had only seen his brother, the team they had worked with, and his father.

When he had inquired about the Colonel and Hawkeye, worried when he hadn’t seen them among the group, Edward had informed him that they had both suffered dangerous injuries that needed immediate attention and were already gone, but not before Mustang insisted on coming over to Al we he heard he had come back, leaving him his black overcoat so he could cover himself when he woke.

So because of that, Al had assumed it would have been a while before the Colonel showed up, and had been both extremely nervous and excited when Ed let him know that the Colonel would be stopping by that morning, doctors be damned. Even if Mustang couldn’t see him, Alphonse was excited to be in his presence with his real body and not the massive, unfeeling suit of armor. After all, Mustang had been a huge help when he and his brother looked for the stone, getting them the funding and missions they needed and making sure Al was safe from prying eyes.

He and Ed really did owe so much to him.

Even if Edward never admitted to it, both of them were both extremely grateful for the steady presence that Mustang provided in their lives after so much inconsistency, as well as the support both the Colonel and his team provided for them while they searched for the Philosopher's stone. Even Edward, with all of the outward bitterness and resentment he treated Mustang with, had told Al directly that Mustang was one of the few people they trust and count on when Promised Day began, and even sought him out specifically for his help.

“You alright, Alphonse?”

Mustang’s deep, scratchy voice shook Al from his thoughts, heavy with concern, and Al could feel the Colonel’s hand gently coasting the sheets by his leg as he felt for him. Alphonse nodded, then internally smacked himself before verbalizing the response.
“I’m alright,”

The Colonel looked unsatisfied with that answer as the tips of his knuckles bumped against Al’s shin. He paused for a moment, hovering his hand, before resting his wounded palm on Al’s shin, giving it a slight pat. Even through the thin, beige fabric of the blanket, Alphonse still felt a slight shiver go up his spine at the contact, his skin tingling.

“Are you sure?” Mustang pushed, shuffling backwards on the bed to cross his legs over the sheets. “It must be a huge adjustment to be able to feel everything again after four years of nothing. I know that it can be scary or uncomfortable to think about adjusting to a whole new way of life,”
As he said it, Mustang’s other hand went up to his own face, his stiff, swollen fingers tapping against the ridge of his eyebrow, and Al knew that he was likely thinking about how his own life had drastically changed after growing through the Gate of Truth.

To his surprise, a sudden wave of relief washed over him at the Colonel’s genuine words. Al let out a long exhale, drawing on of his thin hands across the woven blanket on his lap. As excited as he had been to be reunited with his body at last, leaving behind the oversized, clumsy armor, being thrown back into the world with no easing had been scary and strange.

The minute his eyes opened, his brother’s voice ringing in his ears, he had been hypersensitive to everything around him. The chillness of the dirt beneath him, the heavy thickness of the overcoat across his lap, the lukewarm air brushing against his skin. It had been so much all at once, feeling like every molecule of breath and grain of gravel was sticking to his skin and digging into his pores, that he had been barely able to register any of the words that were being tossed at him. He felt strange and ridiculous as he took his first breath all over again, gasping at the forgein feeling of the air clutching his lungs and the feeling of his heart beating against his chest.

The most shocking, however, had been the physical touch of another person.

When his father had shook his hand, the touch had felt like he had been electrocuted, making the hair on his arm stick up and his eyes go wide. At the same time, unlike the pricklyness of the ground and unfamiliarity of his own pulse, it had been so soft and welcoming that he almost burst into tears at the overwhelming feeling of joy he got from it. He had missed out on physical touch for so long, and he hadn’t realized how much he had wanted it until he had gotten it back.

However, the Colonel was still correct that everything had been extremely overwhelming and new, and Al had felt that maybe he was being slightly ridiculous having trouble dealing with the feeling of air in his lungs once again, and when Ed has asked him how he felt, Al would have felt terrible saying that he was nervous and anxious over the tiniest new feeling, so he had kept it to himself.
Hearing the Colonel voice his feelings out loud, even if he didn’t know Al’s inner thoughts, made him feel a lot better.

“It’s been a little difficult, “ he admitted, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands as the Colonel gave him an encouraging nod. “It’s been strange to be able to breath again, if you can believe that,”

“Oh, I believe it. You've been without it for so long that it makes sense you would be more aware of it than the average person,”

“So you don’t think it’s ridiculous?” Al asked with a nervous laugh. Part of him knew that it wasn’t, and that if he told his brother he would reassure him without a second thought despite however he may have felt, but there was something about an adult validating his feelings, especially one that had been in his life for so long, that felt different.

“‘Course not kid,” Mustang said, waving a hand. “That would be like saying I’m ridiculous for being more touchy than normal because I have to learn to see a different way, or that you’re brother is ridiculous because he keeps smacking his arm into things because he so used to the automail,”
Al felt the tension leave his shoulders at the man’s no nonsense reassurance, and he let out a relaxed sigh. A tiny part of him still felt guilty, but being able to just admit to someone he trusted that a normal, human function made him anxious calmed his nerves.

“I guess it's only been a little over a day,” Al said, clasping his hands together, feeling more excited now that his worries had been swayed. “I’m sure it’ll get better,”
Mustang flashed a smile. “Now that’s the spirit, bud.”

Al grinned back, forgetting in his relief that Mustang couldn’t actually see him, but the man seemed to pick up on the changed energy in the room, and he gave Al’s shin another pat before placing his hand back in his lap.

He fell silent, turning his blank gaze to stare through Alphonse with surprising accuracy, chewing the inside of his cheek. Mustang’s expression had gone from soft to conflicted, his eyebrows furrowed up in an expression of thought. Al shuffled uncomfortably, wondering if Mustang was finished speaking with him and was trying to find a nice way to leave now that he had checked up on him, when he shuffled slightly closer, bumping into his knee.

Alphonse rubbed his hands together as the Colonel sorted himself out, feeling his way around the bed to get an idea of his changed surroundings. He patted closer to Alphonse, tilting his head, and Al reached forward slightly to tap the back of the man’s hand to let him know where he was. Mustang went still for a brief second, then gave an awkward smile before brushing his knuckles against Al’s leg in acknowledgement.

“Do you mind if I ask you something else, Alphonse?”

His tone was serious now, a glaring difference from the joking, reassuring manner he had been just a few moments prior, and Al could’t help the slight anxiety that tugged in the back of his mind. As he looked at Mustang, he realized that there was another emotion layered over Mustang’s expression, unsurety, he realized, which was ever more strange to see on the otherwise confident man.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Mustang sighed, clasping his bandaged hands together. “I always believed that you and your brother would get your bodies back, and I was excited for when the day finally came,” he pushed, swallowing, and Al cocked his head in confusion on where the conversation was headed. “I know that I can’t see anymore, but I was wondering if you would be ok with me seeing you the way I know how. Only if you’re comfortable, of course,”

Mustang flayed out his stiff fingers as best as he could, keeping his head down and tone soft as Al pondered what he said. See him the way he knew how? What exactly did that mean? The Colonel was blind, so he had to depend on other ways to get around, like seeing, hearing, feeling-but he wasn’t sure how any of that would help him. Of course Al was more than willing to let the Colonel get an idea of how he looked, but he didn’t know what he was asking.

Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and Al had to resist the urge to smack his face out of sheer frustration for not realizing it earlier.

“You want to feel my face?” He asked, checking to see if his suspicions were correct.
Mustang nodded, looking sheepish and almost embarrassed by the question. “I completely understand if-”

“No, that’s fine!” Al reassured quickly, a stupid grin crawling up his face. An immense feeling of joy and excitement filled his chest at Mustang’s request, and Al moved closer to him so that he wouldn’t have to reach over the mountains of blankets and pillows Al had gathered on his bed. Ever since the brief contact that his father and brother had offered him once he had come back to the world of the living, he had been craving more of the feeling, and with the Colonel willingly offering, he jumped at the opportunity.

And knowing that it was Mustang that he would get to feel made him feel happy.

“I’m really skinny, so my cheekbones will probably feel sharp,” Al warned, feeling the sharp bones that stuck out from his face with his own fingers.

“I’m not worried about that,” Mustang said softly, his apprehensiveness slowly dissipating. “Can you guide my hand up, then?”

Al eagerly, but gently, took the Colonel’s injured hand by the wrist, guiding it up to his face. Mustang’s hand hovered over his face for a second, gently bending one of his stiff fingers to get an idea of where Al’s face was. His finger brushed the tip of his nose, causing a soft shiver to run down Al’s throat, and once Mustang figured out what he was feeling, he rested the whole finger against the bridge of Al’s nose.

The spark of electricity at the contact was instant and surprising, bouncing across his skin and down into his throat. Al gasped softly as the warmth from the finger radiated across his nose and down into his cheeks, completely different from the warmth of the blanket on his lap or the feeling of his fathers skin on his hand, and Al instinctively jerked back his head, overwhelmed.

Mustang froze, the tip of his finger still touching the edge of Al’s nose, a worried and almost fearful expression creeping across his face at the reaction. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

Alphonse shook his head, forgetting how to speak for a moment, the warm feeling still lingering across his face. Although Mustang’s finger was gone, the feeling it left behind was soft and fuzzy, and he already wanted it back. “No, don’t worry,” he said, finding his voice and leaning forward again. “I’m just getting used to physical touch again, that’s all,”

Mustang still looked worried, eyebrows raised and hand moving back towards his chest. “I can stop-”

“No,” Al stated, already reaching his hand forward to guide Mustang back to his face. It may have been shocking at first, but he wanted more of the touch, more of the gentle, cozy feeling that he had been missing out on for so long. “It's nice, I promise. And your fingers are warm,”

Mustang didn’t protest, though he still looked nervous, letting Al rest his hand on his nose again. The deep warmth came back in a flash, and Al closed his eyes, letting the Colonel’s fingers slowly travel across his nose. Al let out a soft exhale through his lips as his fingers gently traveled from his nose to the ridges of his cheekbones. The touch was so nice, so soft, and felt almost loving with how slowly and carefully Mustang moved his fingers across his cheeks. It reminded him how his mother used to caress his face when she was still alive.

As the Colonel’s fingers trailed across his skin, a feeling of relaxation and calming warmth overcame him, and he instinctively leaned into Mustang’s palm. Mustang chuckled as Al rested his weight into his hand despite the fact that the bandages were not nearly as welcoming as the skin to skin contact, eyebrows knitted together in thought as he cataloged Al’s features. He brushed his thumb across Al’s pronounced cheekbone, the rest of his fingers rubbing alongside his pointed chin as he held his face.

He moved his hand upwards, causing more warmth to spark across his face as Mustang’s fingers ran across his forehead and the top of his scalp, taking extra care to keep his fingers from becoming tangled in the messy mop of golden hair Al still had yet to get cut. His fingers dipped downwards, catching on his ear, and Al’s cheeks started to tingle as his fingers moved away from the front of his face and onto the side of his neck, thumb brushing along the bump in his throat.

“You feel a bit like Edward,” Mustang said as he drew his hand away, and Al had to bite his lip to stop a whine of protest as the sudden warmth let his skin. “But I imagine you have a lot of your mother’s features, from what I can remember,”

“Really?” Al asked, blinking as the lingering warmth from Mustang’s fingers started to dissipate, although his cheeks still felt fuzzy. He brought a hand to his cheek, trying to replicate the feeling as it started to disappear, not wanting to comfort that the touch brought to leave quite yet, though his own touch felt nothing like Mustang’s.

“Hmm. And once you fill in a bit along your cheeks, you and your brother and going to be the talk of the town,” Mustang grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Expect free treats at restaurants,”
Alphonse laughed, pressing his hand against his cheek in an attempt to keep the oczyness in his cheeks from leaving. “I highly doubt that,”

“It’s true!” Mustang exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. “And you’re hearing this from the prettiest guy in Amestris, you you have to believe me,”

“Maybe you’ll have a contender soon enough then,” Al quipped, dropping his hand as the last feelings of Mustang’s fingers disappeared.

“Ooh! Looks like you got some fire in you after all, Al,”

A quiet creaking sounded from the door at Mustang’s words, barely audible, but Mustang swung his head around towards the noise. Al craned his head over the man’s shoulders to see the nurse from before, this time holding a clipboard and fiddling with it nervously, peek his head in. He gave a glance to the clock on the wall, then sheepishly addressed Mustang.
“Mr. Mustang, it’s time to clean out your wounds,”

Mustang groaned as he recognized the tone of the voice, smacking his face with his palm much to the nurse’s displeasure, turning back in Al’s general direction to roll his silver eyes. “And here comes the hovering nuse,” he said loudly, making no attempt to hide the annoyance in his tone.
Al bit back a giggle as the nurse shot an offended glance at his patient, padding over to them. “Mr. Mustang-”

“I HEARD you. No, I don’t need you to help me up. Stop it!” Mustang hissed, and Al failed to swallow back the giggle this time as Mustang elbowed the nurse backwards. The nurse frowned, rubbing his ribs where Mustang had hit him, and threw a glance at Al, who shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

He couldn’t fault Mustang for his reaction. Sooner the nurse stopped trying to baby him, the better. Just because the man was blind didn’t mean he couldn’t walk.

Thankfully, the nurse stepped away from the man, and Mustang patted down his hospital gown with a glare. Then he turned back towards Al, all annoyance disappearing in a quick flash as he gave him a genuine grin. He took a cautious step forward, holding out his hand, and when it bumped against Al, he gave him a clasp on the shoulder.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Al,” He said kindly, ignoring the impatient tapping of his nurse. “I’m excited to see how you progress,”

Al’s heart warmed at the words, and even through the cloth of his hospital gown, and the bandages surrounding Mustang’s palm, his fingers still managed to have that fuzzy effect on him, although it was much more muted than how it had felt on his face.

“I’ll be seeing you, sir,”

Mustang gave an amused shake of the head at Alphonse’s response. “Call me Roy, kid. We’ve known each other long enough at this point,”

“Then, bye Roy,” Al corrected, and although addressing Mustang in such an informal manner was strange, it felt nice and familiar and he liked it.

“Goodbye Al,”

He looked as though he wanted to say something more, standing silent for a brief moment, but if he did, he decided against it, choosing to instead give Al a wave as the nurse ushered him out the door. Al didn’t dwell on it, waving back with another soft goodbye.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure they’re feeding you enough?”

Al gave an amused, exasperated sigh at Roy’s question.  This wasn’t the first, nor the fifth time he had asked that question as he drew his ringers across Al’s face, his fingers dipping along the crevices of his cheeks and cupping the underside of his chin.  He was using both hands this time, something he had held off on until Al had practically begged him to, but in allowing that, Roy could get a much better image of his face, thus opening Al to more worried questions.

Roy had been visiting Al several times a day for the last week or so, each time politely asking if he could check up on Al’s progress.  Sometimes he was alone, other times he brought Ed so he could get updates on all of them, and once he even brought Hawkeye, who had left her hospital room against the doctor’s advice much like her Colonel, and had given Al such a tight, sweet hug that he almost burst into tears, telling him how excited she was to finally meet him in his true form and kissing the top of his head.

God, he loved her.  He loved being with both of them and his brother, and he was so glad he could finally hug her back with his real body.

Mustang tutted, worry lines drawn across his forehead as he knitted his eyebrows together in a worried way, repeating his question as he cupped Al’s face, drawing both of his thumbs across his cheekbones.  Al closed his eyes, sinking into the balmy touch he had grown to crave.

“Yes, I’m sure.  It’s not like I can stomach much anyway,”

That statement was, unfortunately, frustratingly true.  As excited as Al was to be able to eat again, he had been kept on a very strict diet of bland, tasteless food to introduce his body to nutrition again.  Alphonse had thought that his welcome back meal would have been something slightly more exciting than a slice of crunchy toast with no butter and a container of strawberry yogurt, but after barely being able to stomach more than a few bites of each before feeling scarily sick, he understood the doctor’s thought process.

Being able to eat again had been weird.  Unlike touch, which had been shocking at first but so welcoming at the same time, food was almost painful to adjust to after four years of being soulbound to the armor, much to his crushing disappointment.  His mouth got sore after mere minutes of chewing, and he kept accidentally biting the insides of his cheek and tongue.  

It was scary to feel food going down his throat and stopping his breathing, and food settled in his stomach in an uncomfortable, fogrein fashion.  Al didn’t remember food feeling like that when he was young, expecting it to feel satisfying and full like in his memories.  When he asked the doctors about it, they told him it was because his stomach had likely shrunk, and it would take a while before he got used to it again.

It was incredibly discouraging.

But he had his brother, who was still figuring out how to coordinate the nerves and move his fingers properly again, and he had Roy, who was slowly but surely getting used to relying on his other senses to get around.  Both had been pillars of support before, and they were now, even if they didn’t know all the frustrating feelings that Al had neglected to tell them about out of fear of seeming ungrateful.

It was hard for Al to shake the feelings of bitter guilt for feeling annoyed in the first place.  Everyone had sacrificed so much to get him where he was now, to protect him from being found out and to get his body back, and he still felt feelings of frustration and annoyance surrounding his new body, no matter how much he tried to shake them.  He had been so caught up in the amazement of finally getting his body back that he hadn’t even thought about the struggles it could come with.

He wanted to talk about with someone badly, talk about the confusing feelings that whirled around in his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to share his troubles with his brother.  He couldn't even imagine the guilt that would cling to his heart if he shared the complaints he had about his body after Edward had sacrificed his alchemy to bring him back, giving up his livelihood and State Alchemist title in the process.  Al would never want his brother to think he was ungrateful for everything he had done for him.

He had thought about talking to Roy about it, but that was something that made him extremely nervous to even think about, so it was much better to just keep all his emotions under wraps and wait for them to pass.

Roy’s finger brushed over Al’s closed eyes, and the roughness of his fingers pulled him from his thoughts, briefly letting his conflicting thoughts pass and letting him focus on the tender touch.  The bandages on the man’s hands were scratchy on his cheeks, not nearly as comforting as the skin to skin contact, and Al found himself excited for the day the bandages would come off so he could feel Roy’s whole hand.

Al let out a quiet exhale through his nose, keeping his eyes closed as Roy moved from his eye to the ridge of his eyebrow, gently pressing against the bone with his thumb.  Al felt Roy’s finger relax ever so slightly, a sound of relief escaping his lips, and he moved his hands down to cup his palms along the sides of Al’s jaw.

“You have filled in a bit, I can’t deny that.  You don’t feel so hollow,”

Al hummed in acknowledgement, head drooping slightly as the warmness of Roy’s hands made him feel sleepy, and he laughed, gently hosting his head back up.

“Still, you’re sure you’re eating enough?”

“Yes Colonel-Roy,” he amended as Roy gave him a halfhearted smack at the title.  “I promise I’m eating enough.  Even if the food here is bland,”

“You’re telling me.  If they try to spoon feed me one more container of applesauce I just might throw it at them,”

Al chuckled, leaning his cheek into Roy’s hand as he imagined Roy’s fussing nurse with applesauce in his hair.  “Then you would be just like brother,”

Roy gasped dramatically, faking a hurt expression as he removed one hand from Al’s face to place over his heart like he had been wounded.  “Do not compare me to that heathen,” he scolded, voice laced with mock authority as he flicked the tip of Al’s nose, and he giggled.  “You know, just today he managed to scare away half of his nurses because he didn’t like doing physical therapy without you.  They had to call ME down to calm him and approve the switch, since your father isn’t here anymore,”

Al felt his stomach drop at that last sentence, all the sleepiness and relaxation he was feeling gone in a second.

“Dad’s not here anymore?” He asked quietly, hoping that what he was thinking wasn’t true.  Roy’s hands stilled as he noticed the change in Al’s voice, and his expression went softer, looking forlorn.

“Last I heard, he was headed down to Resmebool,” Roy answered, voice low as he drew his thumb across Al’s jaw.  “You didn’t know?”

“No,”  Al tried to keep his tone neutral, but Roy seemed to pick up on how strained it was, and he moved closer, feeling the edge of Al’s mouth.  “I was wondering why he hadn’t come by again,”

Alphonse had only seen his father once since the Promised Day.  He had visited about a day after Roy did, coming in late at night.  He had had a bandage along his eyebrow, and there was still some dried blood on the side of his face, but he looked happy.  He shook Al’s hand again, told him he was proud of the both of them and glad he had gotten his body back, and glad he was able to reconnect with him again.

They had spoken for a bit, albeit awkwardly, about how Al was doing and about his brother and what they planned on doing now that they had fulfilled their goal.  Al had enjoyed speaking with him again, despite the long lulls in the conversation, but it was late, and eventually one of Al’s nurses came in to tell his father that visiting times were over and Al needed to get some rest.

Hohenheim had given him a gentle clasp on the shoulder, telling him that he was happy that he was happy and told him to get some sleep.  He looked like he wanted to say something more, his expression distant like his mind was on something else, but Al had ignored it because he was just happy to be spending time with his father when the world wasn’t ending.

Now that he thought about it, his father was probably saying goodbye.

Al wished he would have at least given him a hug or something before leaving again, feeling the heavy weight of disappointment settle in his stomach.

“Hey,” Roy murmured, patting Al on the cheek.  “Don’t sound so sad.  I”m sure he’s only straightening some things up down there.  It was a wild couple of days, y’know?  Don’t worry about it.  Just focus on getting better so you can show him how good you look when he gets back,”

Although the disappointment was still there, Al forced himself to listen to Roy’s logical thinking.  He wished that Hoehenem would have at least told him that he was leaving, but Roy was probably right that he was getting some things done back home.  He would be back soon enough, and Al would be able to show him all his progress and get his hug.  Promised Day was over, Ed and Al were better, and that’s all he needed to focus on.

“Ok, I won’t worry,” Al said, nuzzling his face into Roy’s palm.  The textured bandages blocked the reassuring warmth he was looking for, and Al furrowed his eyebrows, another question bubbling up at the feeling.

“Hey Roy?”

“Yeah bud?”

“When are you getting these off?”  Al rubbed at the bandages with his bony fingers, and Roy paused, pondering the question.

“In about a week or so.  Why?”  Roy’s expression suddenly grew panicked, and his clouded eyes grew wide as he pulled his hand away from Al’s face.  “Do they hurt?  Is it too much?  God, I hadn’t even thought-”

“No, no, it’s ok!” Al reassured quickly, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the sudden lack of warmth on his face, and he had to make a serious effort to keep himself from asking Roy to bring his hands back.  “I was just curious. I want to make sure you’re getting better too,”

Alphonse didn’t feel like telling Roy the real reason he was asking, or maybe he just felt embarrassed by it, but it wasn’t untrue that he wanted the man to get better.  Sure, being able to feel his entire hand without the influence of the bandages would be great, and Al was embarrassed about how excited the thought actually made him, but it was far more important that Roy’s hands recovered enough that he would be able to use them again with minimal issues.

The first time Roy had felt Al's face, his fingers had been swollen and red, and he could hardly bend his fingers to grab things or move around.  They would shake slightly each time he held them up or reached forward, his face going pale, and it wasn’t hard to see the grimace of pain on his face when he applied any sort of weight to them.   

The Colonel heaved an amused sigh, the worry flooding out of his face just as quickly as it had appeared.  He rubbed at the bandages with his fingers.  “Don’t worry about me, kid.  I’m doing just fine,”

“You sure?” Al knew for a fact that Roy enjoyed skipping out on his occupational therapy that the doctors had recently started for him, giving the nurses a hard time each time they pulled him out of Al’s room.

“Completely sure,” Roy answered, holding out his hands for Al to see.

He leaned forward, looking at the man’s outstretched palms.  There wasn’t much to see, seeing that the majority of the skin was covered with thick, white bandages, but judging by how much better Roy was getting at flexing his fingers when he felt Al’s face, and how they weren’t nearly as swollen and stiff as they used to be, they looked much better.  His skin had returned to almost normal, the purpley-reds receding to underneath the bandages, and he could curl the tips of his fingers.

“Ok, I believe you,” Al said, patting the top of Roy’s hand.  “So you can put your hands back,”

At that, Al felt his face flush red out of embarrassment at his own words, and even though Roy couldn't see him, he buried his face in his hands to hide the blush.  God, had he really just said that outloud?  Seriously?  Had he honestly told Roy to hold his face again?

What a pathetic, childish thing to ask.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” Al began, trying to amend his statement, but stopped when something warm bumped against his forehead, and he allowed himself to peek out from in between his fingers.

Roy had held out his hand, pressing his knuckles against his forehead with an amused grin.  He didn’t say anything, didn’t look upset or annoyed at what Al had said, and just curled his fingers alongside his temple as best as he could, letting the tips of them hook underneath his chin.

The cozy, familiar feeling came back in a flash, and despite the embarrassment that he felt, Al still let himself lean into the touch, grateful that he hadn't said anything to poke or tease him.  Mustang’s hand moved, and this thumb bumped against the bridge of Alphonse’s nose, and he rubbed the edge of in an affectionate gesture, chuckling, before moving his hand to ruffle his hair.  The tips of his fingers trailed across his bangs, and Roy raised his eyebrows in surprise, grinning widely.

“Hey, you cut your hair!”

“Oh yeah!”  Al drew his hand over the top of his scalp, feeling the blunt ends of his newly cut hair.  He had completely forgotten that Roy hadn’t known about his haircut, and he had forgotten to tell him when he had come in that day.  Al hadn’t wanted to keep his hair long, and was more than willing to let someone come through with scissors to cut off his overgrown hair.  “Well, Ed cut it.  Long hair isn’t really my thing,”

“Now now, hold a second,” Roy said, continuing to mess with his hair, his fingernails gently scratching across his scalp.  “I gotta adjust my mental image of you,”

Roy paused, clicking his tongue thoughtfully, bringing one of his hands to rub his temple in a dramatic manner.  He gave another swipe across Al’s golden crown, messing up his hair with a smirk.  “Oh yeah, you’re MUCH more handsome now.  Maybe Edward should cut his hair too,”

“Says the bastard with the nasty overgrown haircut,”

Roy jumped at the sound of Edward’s voice, twirling around so he faced the general direction of the door.  Edward was leaning against the frame of the hospital door, his right arm in a balck sling and a smug smirk on his face, his golden hair pulled back into a braid like when he was young, the hairstyle looking  much like Hawkeye’s handiwork.  Al gave him a pointed look, and Edward shrugged innocently.

Roy sighed, running his fingers through his own dark hair, closing his eyes.  “Come on kid, give me a break.  I’m blind,”

Edward grinned wider, his bright eyes alight with mischief.  “Oh, so now being blind is convenient for you?”

Roy scowled as Edward approached the two of them, and Al had to resist the urge to sigh.  Even after everything that had happened, Roy and Edward had still managed to go at it nearly every day like they were still in the office.  It didn’t help that Roy seemed to encourage every bit of fighting between the two of them, despite his complaining about it.

“That’s low Ed, even for you,” Mustang shot back, relaxing his shoulder as Ed rested a hand on it.  “What are you even doing here anyway? Can’t you see I’m trying to have a conversation with the more civil Elric?”

Roy gestured towards Al, and Edward rolled his eyes, making a mocking motion with one of his hands, then before Alphonse could yell at him for being so mean, Roy’s hand flew up and he smacked at Ed.

“What was that for?!”

“Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re doing,”

“Well FINE,” Ed retorted, brushing at where Roy had swatted him, although he still kept a hand on his shoulder.  “Anyway, I’m here to speak with my lovely brother and make sure you’re not corrupting him.”  Edward paused for emphasis, looking absolutely delighted, before adding on.  “And I’m also letting you know that it’s time for you occupational therapy,”

As if on cue, the sound of Roy’s fretting nurse sounded from the hallway.  Roy’s silver eyes went wide, and he patted along Edward until he found his wrist, clutching onto it tightly.  His expression was panicked, and Edward looked beyond amused.

“Come on Ed,” Roy pleaded.  “Don’t do this to me,”

Edward just shrugged, shaking his head in sympathy as he gave Roy a mock pat of comfort on his hand.  “Sorry Colonel, it’s for the best,”

Edward shot Al a wry grin, looking far too pleased with himself, and Al had to resist the urge to cuff him upside the head for taunting Mustang so mercilessly.  He shuffled forward, giving Roy a comforting pat on the hand as he had done so many times for him, and to his surprise, Roy curled his stiff fingers around Al’s as best he could in acknowledgement.

He gave Al’s fingers a brief squeeze, turning his head back towards him for some support.  Al let out a sigh.  As much as Roy disliked his nurses and occupational therapy, and as much as Al scolded his brother for his teasing of the Colonel, Al knew that the therapy was essential to his recovery so he had to go, even if Al would have liked him to stay longer.

“Sorry Roy, I can’t help you,”

Roy sighed, and seeing he wasn’t going to get any support from Al’s, turned back to Ed and rested his forehead against his side, closing his eyes.

“Ed, if you truly, TRULY cared about me, you wouldn't make me leave,” He tried again, voice desperate.

Ed shook his head.  “Mustang, you gotta.  You make me do it, I gotta return the favor,”

Roy sighed goodnaturedly, thudding his forehead against Edward again, defeated as his nurse padded into the hospital room.

“You wound me, Ed,”

Chapter Text

Al groaned, fisting his hair in his hands, rubbing his temples with his palms to fend off the upcoming headache he knew was coming.  Roy sat in front of him, looking contrite with a sheepish grin on his face, running one of his wounded hands through his hair.

Al wanted to think that he couldn’t believe this, that he couldn’t believe what Roy had so cheerfully told him just a few seconds prior, but his common sense told him that it was well within Roy’s personality and line of thinking to do what he just did.  Honestly, Al should have been surprised that it didn’t happen SOONER.  Wasn’t Roy supposed to be an adult?  Didn’t he have a reputation to maintain?

He may be brilliant and kind, Al thought, rubbing his eyes, but he sure does like doing what he wants.

“You SNUCK out?!” Al exclaimed, and he saw Roy wince out of the corner of his air, leaning forward.

“No so loud!” He pleaded, fumbling his hand along Al’s face until he found his mouth, trying to clap his hand over it.  Al grabbed his wrist, although gently, moving the man’s hand away from his face.

“Why did you SNEAK out?!”

Roy gave him a chastised look, a wry grin on his face, and stretched his fingers forward to give Alphonse what he thought must have been a reassuring pat on the tip of his nose, and Al exhaled heavily through his nose.

Roy had come into Al’s room, and while Al had been excited to see him, he had instantly gotten suspicious when he had seen his expression.  He looked smug and full of himself, eerily similar to his brother when he had done something he shouldn’t have and gotten away with it, like when saved Youswell by trasmusting gold or when convinced the Colonel that no, he hadn’t destroyed that building.

Al had assumed Roy had done something like convincing his doctors to let him take a break from therapy or pretend to be in too much pain to do it, wanting to think the best of him.  He had NOT expected Roy to gleefully inform him that he had sneaked out of his hospital and given the doctors the slip.

“Hey, hey, it’s not as bad as it seems,” Roy said, trying to defend himself.  Al crossed his arms over his chest in a disbelieving manner, giving Roy a pointed stare, and even though he couldn’t see him, Roy still had the decency to look scolded.  “Look, they wanted me to do my therapy and I didn’t feel like it,”

Al groaned again at that.  Yep.  He was right.  Of COURSE it had to be something like that.  As much as Roy pestered Ed  about consistently doing his therapy for his right arm, and asking for daily updates on Al’s therapy, he was absolutely terrible about keeping up with his own and gae everyone grief about it.  The only times Al had seen him do this work without complaining was when he did it with Edward and himself.

“And,” Roy went on, wagging a finger and giving no acknowledgement to Al’s dramatic sighing, “I wanted to see you and your brother,” He paused, chuckling to himself, before adding on, “Well, I guess I can’t see you,”

Al smacked his forehead in frustration.  Now was not the time for jokes, not when Roy was skipping out on an ESSENTIAL part of his therapy to see him.  “Roy, your hands won’t get better if you don’t do your therapy,” Al said, parroting the same sentence he had heard him give Ed when he tried to skip.

Roy waved his hand, looking completely unbothered and almost bored with Al’s statement.  “Don’t you go acting like my nurse, Al.  I get enough smothering as it is.  Besides, I can do my therapy here, so don’t even worry about it!”

Al gave him a scrutinizing look, allowing the feeling of disbelief to drip into his tone.  “And how can you do that?”

Alphonse had seen the plethora of equipment that Roy needed to use to build back the strength in his hands.  Whether it was multi-colored rubber bands with different tensions, stress balls to get his finger bending again, exercise that would be dotted into a little chart, or a little machine with loads of springs. Roy always had something he needed to use.

And right now, Roy, you’ve got none of it.

Despite the superiority in Al’s voice, Roy looked unfazed by the question much to Al’s chagrin, adjusting his position on the bed until he could cross his legs and face Al more directly.  He clapped his hands together in a dramatic fashion, wincing slightly as his injured palms smacked against each other, then moved his hands by his temples.

“By ‘seeing’ you,” he explained, making stiff air quotes.  “I got an update from the doctor today that you’ve gained a lot of weight back in your face.  I wanted to feel for myself,”

Al huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.  Ok, true, Al had gained some of the weight back in his cheeks, supposedly smoothing out the sharpness of his cheekbones.  To Al, there hadn’t been a very notable difference, as his cheekbones still protruded out the side of his face, and his eyes were still sunken in and hollow.  Al absolutely hated the way it looked, making him feel like some sort of freak, but both Ed and the doctor, and now Roy, all insisted that he looked marginally better now than a couple of weeks ago.

Even so, AL seemingly looking better in everyone else’s eyes was not a good enough excuse, in his opinion, for Roy to skip out on an integral part of his recovery.  He needed his hands to do pretty much everything, from writing to eating to practicing his form of alchemy.  A little bit of weight back in his face was not important enough for the man to be ditching this therapy when he could just wait for his break instead.

“And how does that help, Roy?”

Roy beamed brightly, throwing his arms out to the side.  “Boosts my morale!  And it lets me move my fingers,”  Roy let his eyes go wide, holding out an arm towards Al with exaggerated, pleading expression.  “So can I see you?  Please?”

Al knew he should say no, tell Roy to go back to his hospital room and stop being difficult.

But he’s already here, Al thought, the emotional side of him caving into Roy’s request.  Not really a point in kicking him out.

And maybe a little part of him was warmed. Roy skipped out to see him.

Giving in, he shuffled closer to Roy, taking his wrist in his hand and guiding it back towards his face.  Yeah, Roy should have been in therapy and not here, but Al wasn’t going to deny him checking his progress when he enjoyed the physical touch so much.  He wasn’t sure how much of the touch came from a place of wanting to see or physical affection, but it was nice to feel someone’s hands on his face regardless.  Roy’s hands were always gentle and warm, reminding him of how his mother would do the same.

Looking thrilled at Al’s acceptance of the situation, Roy quickly fumbled his hands around Al’s face until he found his cheeks.  The tips of the thumbs rubbed across his sharp cheekbones, and Roy’s face split into a wide grin, letting his thumbs dip underneath the bone to feel the little bit of fat that had built up.  A balmy, fuzzy feeling sparked where his fingers touched, not nearly as intense or startling as the first couple of times, but just as welcoming, if not more so.  It seemed to Al that the more touch he got, the more missed it when it left.

“Wow, you really do feel so much better.  It’s amazing what a couple of days can do,” Roy rumbled gently, ruffling his bangs with a hand.  Al grinned, shaking his head slightly as he brushed his golden hair out of his eyes.

“I still look the same though,” he said impassively, his earlier feelings bubbling up in chest.

If Al really looked so much better, why was he still bound to a hospital bed for the majority of the day?  Why couldn’t his body let him take more than a few steps before his legs would shake painfully, and he would feel faint?  Why could he barely stomach the bland, unseasoned meals he was given that tasted no different than stale crackers?  Why did his body seem to be stuck in this era of weakness and fragility, despite his effort to keep up with his treatment?

Maybe it had only been a little over a week, but Al felt that no progress was being made.  He still needed a wheelchair to take trips longer than a few steps and he still couldn’t go outside because his immune system wasn’t strong enough to handle the common cold.  The only places he had seen since coming back were Ed’s room ,which was down the hall, and the therapy room, neither of which he could go alone.

Roy had tried speaking with the doctors in allowing Al to visit him and Hawkeye in their own rooms, being just a couple of turns away from the Elrics, even offering to take Al himself as he had pretty much memorized the basic layout of the hallways from his repeated trips to treatment and attempted runaway mission to see the boys and Hawkeye, but they had voiced concerns on Al being unmonitored too long with his unique condition, and even Roy had to agreed that their thinking was valid.

Still, it was incredibly annoying.  When he was bound to the suit of armor, no longer able to sleep, Al would busy himself during the nights by thinking about what he was most excited for.  He had been so excited to be able to feel the wind again and taste sugar and sweets, yet he could hardly stomach toast or walk without doctors fretting over every step.  He was so ready to experience the world again, but his body was not, and now he had to wait even longer.

Al swallowed toughly, tring to push down the bitter feelings in his chest.  It was hard keeping everything to himself, and everytime he saw his brother or Roy or even Hawkeye, he wanted to spill out all the confusion that had settled deep in his mind and clouded his thoughts, but it needed to be done.  He hated that he was even feeling such ungrateful things, especially after what everyone had done for him.  He was being horrible and selfish,and no one needed to deal with that except for him.

It was times like this he missed his mom the most, and wanted her help and kind reassurance.  He just wished his father would come back and see him already.

“Hey,” Roy murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft as he scooted closer to Al, letting his hand rest against the nape of his neck.  “Even if you think you look the same, I can promise that you feel so much better,”

Al nodded, forgetting in the midst of all his thoughts that Roy couldn't see him.  Logically, he knew that it would get better.  He knew recovery would take a long time, and just needed to be patient. It was easier said than done, though, and Al felt emotionally exhausted with everything that was going on.

Roy’s voice was knowing when he spoke again.  “That’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

Alphonse looked up at the man to see his clouded eyes alight with concern.  Al shrugged half heartedly.  “I’m fine, Roy,” he lied, trying to push as much nonchalance into his tone as possible.  “Just ready for some noticeable progress,”

Much to Al’s distress, Roy didn’t look satisfied with his response in the slightest, raising an eyebrow in a disbeling manner.  “Explain,”

Worry sparked in Al’s chest.  He had to get Roy off this topic before he ended up spilling everything.  “It’s nothing,” he insisted, blanching when his voice clipped up an octave.  “I’m totally fine, I promise,”

Al needed to convince Roy that he was ok.  There was no way he could let himself tell the man what was going on in his brain when it would lead to terrible consequences.  Roy would hate him, tell him off, or be shocked that Al was even feeling such things, and it would ruin the relationship that he had managed to build up with him.  He couldn’t lose Roy, not now, not when he was the only adult who could check up on him.

   He can’t know, Ed can’t know, no one can kn-

“Al.”

Roy’s voice was stern, but not unkind, breaking through Al’s anxious thoughts.  Al sucked in a shallow breath, looking down at his lap, unwilling to meet Roy’s gaze even if he couldn’t see him.  God, if Roy knew how he was feeling, if he told Ed, everything would go downhill.  He couldn’t tell anyone.  It was his burden to bear, and no one else's.

“Al,” Roy said again, softening his tone to a near whisper.  “You can talk to me.  About absolutely anything.  I won’t judge, no matter what it is,”

You would if you knew.

“You’ll think badly of me,” Al whispered, a fuzzines starting to build up in the back of his throat.

Roy ran his thumb across Al’s jaw, gently lifting his head so that Al was facing him, shaking his head.  “I would never think badly of you, Al.  Ever.  I know something is hurting you, I don’t need to see you to get that.  I can't promise I’ll give the best advice, but I will listen,”

“It’s bad,” Al murmed, trying one last time to stir Roy away from the topic.  If Roy insisted again, Al wouldn’t be able to keep denying him.

Roy smiled sadly.  “Give me a chance,”

At that, Alphonse caved, despite his desperate attempts not to.  

“I just wish I could do more,” He admitted softly, keeping his answer as vague as possible.  The words were thick on his tongue, throat tight.  “Everyone keeps saying I look good, but it doesn’t feel like it.  I’ve wanted my body back for so long, and now that it’s here, I can’t do anything, and it’s disappointing,”

Al felt his heart twist as the word disappointed left his lips, screwing his eyes shut.  He hadn't meant to say that.  No, no, no, that was wrong.  That was wrong.  He shouldn't have said that.  

He shouldn’t have said anything.

Al was going to lose Roy now.  He would never visit him again or ruffle his hair and eat with him or hold his face.  This was the last time he would enjoy the man’s company.

He didn’t realize how much he had enjoyed it until then.

“That’s not what I meant,” he tried desperately, some part of him hoping that he could fix what he had just done.  “I’m not disappointed.  Please don’t think that.  I’m glad I have my body back, I really am.  I promise I’m not ungrateful!”

“Al-”

“Please don’t think that!  I’m so happy I have it back!”

“Al, I know-”

“Please don’t tell Ed I said that!”  His words were running together now, panicked and fearful as his chest heaved with short panicked breaths, gasping as he forced out the next couple of words.  “He gave up his alchemy and everything for me, and I can’t have him hate me, I just can’t-”

A sharp gasp of air escaped his lips, and he tried to suck in another breath to continue, but it was to no avail.  Al clawed at his chest with a hand, feeling his heartbeat aggressively against his chest in a painful way as fear squeezed his lungs in a suffocating fashion.  He leaned forward, blood pounding so loudly in his ears he could hardly hear anything else.

Al tried to choke down another gulp of air, and the world swarmed as he felt light from the lack of oxygen, a sudden wave of heat washing over him.  What was going on?  Why was he feeling like this?  Was his heart giving out, too weak to keep going on?  Were his lungs failing?  His mind ran with scrambled, barely coherent thoughts as he tried to fight the tightness in his chest as he started to shake despite the overbearing heat that had settled over him

God, was he dying?

He clawed at his skin, trying to get some feeling other than the pure fear that was running through him.  Over the ringing in his ears, he was vaguely aware of a voice in the background, though he couldn’t make out any of the words.  Still, out of fear and confusion, he reached out a shaking hand towards it, world spinning.

Almost immediately, a hand gripped his, squeezing it and resting it on something smooth and moving.  It half startled him out of his trance as he felt himself being pushed forward by the hand that was still on his neck, his forehead thudding against what felt like soft straw as that deep stern voice grew louder and closer, a hand resting between his shoulder blades.

“Al.  Breathe.”

Roy’s voice was strong and steady, a direct contrast to the panic that was swirling around his mind.  Al locked onto it.

“Feel my breathing-” Roy commanded, taking in an exaggerated breath, “And follow it,”

Al did as he was told, slowly slowing his erratic breathing to the slow, relaxed ones he could feel beneath his hand.  It took a while, he wasn’t sure how long, for his breathing to relax enough that he longer felt like he needed to capture each breath, and for his heart to calm down enough that the blood was no longer pouding in his ears, but once it didn, Al gingerly opened his eyes.

Roy’s forehead was pressed against his, his dark hair shielding his clouded eyes that were trained down on his lap.  The man’s hand rubbed his back in a reassuring motion, bringing him back to the world, while the other hand he kept pressed to his chest so he could feel the rhythmic moments of his breathing.  The steady heartbeat that Al could feel beneath the fabric of his hospital gown relaxed him.

Al took in another deep, shuddering breath as his heartbeat started to match Roy’s.  His chest still hurt, and he felt exhausted all of a sudden, physically and emotionally drained for whatever had just happened to him, but the ache was slowly diminishing.  Whatever it was seemed to be over now, but there was the fear in the back of his mind that it would pick back up again if he moved from where he was.

Thankfully, even as his breathing slowed and his shaking grew less prominent, Roy didn’t move from his forehead from Al’s, continuing to gently rub his back.

“Feeling better?” Roy asked quietly, his voice still fuzzy in Al’s ears.

He nodded, hoping that Roy could tell what he was doing by the movement of his forehead, not ready to try his voice just yet.  Roy nodded back in acknowledgement, much to Al’s relief as he took in another breath to calm himself.

“What was that?” he choked out after a while, the words strained as he forced them through his tight throat.

“Panic attack, I’d assume,” Roy said simply, patting his back.

That made sense.  Al had experienced what he had assumed would have been considered panic attacks when he was stuck in the suit of armor, as he could still feel the emotions of fear and anxiety in his soul.  He had forgotten in those four long years that they were accompanied by physical symptoms as well.  Al assumed it had been brought on because he was trying so hard to convince Roy that he wasn’t horrible.

Which brought him right back to the start.  Roy probably hated him now.

“You can go now,” Al said quietly, knowing that Roy probably didn’t want to be around him anymore after what he admitted.

Surprise sparked in Roy’s eyes, and he furrowed his eyebrows.  “Do you want me to leave?”

“Don’t you want to?”  Didn’t Roy hear what he had said?  Didn’t he hear him say that he was disappointed, despite how lucky he was?

“Al, why would I want to leave?”  Roy sounded puzzled now, and Al wrapped his head around why.

“Because of what I said.  Don’t you hate me now?”

Roy visibly startled at that, leaning away from Al’s head.  “What the hell, Al?  Why would I hate you because of that?”

“Because it was horrible. It was selfish,” Al responded slowly, confusion starting to swirl around his mind.  Was this Roy’s way of making him realize how terrible he had been in the first place?  Was it some sort of punishment?  Why was he asking this?  Did he not hate him after all?

Is he not going to leave me?

“Alphonse Elric,” Roy said, and Al shot up at the use of his full name.  “You are not selfish because you are struggling, do you understand that?”

It was obvious by his tone that he was leaving no room for argument, but Al still didn’t get why he was saying this.  He had thought for so long that what he had been was feeling selfish and evil, trying his best to shove all his feelings into the darkest part of his mind, but now Roy was saying that he wasn’t being entitled.

He rubbed his hands together nervously.  “But-”

“But nothing,” Roy interrupted, waving a finger.  “What you are going through is hard, and it’s something nobody has ever experienced before, and it is absolutely within your right to feel frustrated, disappointed, or even upset with everything that is going on,”

“It is?”  Al asked, still feeling shocked and confused that Roy was even still there, and even more so that he was telling him these things when he had thought the opposite for so long.

“Of course it is, kid.  God, you and your brother’s guilt complexes are going to be the death of me,”  Roy rubbed his nose with a chuckle, closing his eyes.  “You guys need to open up more, because when you don’t, this like this can happen,”

A feeling of embarrassment and guilt wormed its way into Al’s heart.  He hadn’t meant for this visit to turn into such a mess.  “I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be bud,” Roy rubbed his shoulder, looking unbothered.  “You think you’re the first person to freak out in front of me?  Just ask Ed.  He’s had his fair share of emotional breakdowns in my office.  I don’t want to feel bad in the slightest, I just want you to feel safe enough to talk to me,”

“I was just scared,” Al whispered, looking down at his lap.  Even with Roy’s calm words, he still didn’t feel convinced that it was ok to feel the way he did.  “It wasn’t your fault,”

Roy sighed.  “While I’m glad to hear that Al, that’s not what I’m concerned about.  It saddens me to know that you were scared to express your feelings.  You shouldn't have to feel like that,”  Roy ran his fingers in small circles across Al’s back.  “It’s ok to not be ok, Al.  People who struggle aren’t selfish or ungrateful, they just need help.  And we can’t help them unless they talk to others,”

“I guess,” Al fumbled, a slight hint of worry still in his chest.  “I guess I just didn’t want to be a burden to anyone,”

“You are NOT a burden,” Roy insisted immediately, his tone stern as he pushed Al closer to him.  “I don’t want you to ever think that.  You can talk to anyone about anything.  Please don’t feel that you need to carry everything alone.  Let us shoulder some of it.  Let me,”

“But you already carry a lot,” Al protested, and Roy laughed.

“I’m bigger than you, so I can carry more.  Plus,” he added, letting go of Al’s hand to ruffle his bangs again. “It’s my job,”

Al let a soft giggle escape his lips as Roy messed with his hair, causing his bang to stick out as the worry in his heart lessened.  Roys words hadn’t taken away the frustration and the annoyance that he felt towards his new body, but they had made him feel much lighter now that he had been told it was ok to feel annoyed with how slow his body was progressing, and that feeling so didn’t make him ungrateful or selfish like his mind kept telling him.

Still, as the pent-up anxiety that he had fed for so long slowly melted out of his mind with a few simple words, another question arose in his mind at the older man's words.

What did Roy mean that it was his job?

Roy had never really had any authority over Al other than his duty as a legal guardian, which was mostly fulfilled by the military anyway.  In fact, Al had assumed that Roy wouldn’t even have that authority for much longer once his father came back from Resembool.  Roy only ever needed to worry about the two of them in a professional setting, as Ed was his soldier and Al tagged along on his missions.  He wasn’t obligated to worry about them beyond that.

Wasn’t it the job of a parent to care more?

Al shook himself internally.  No, he didn’t need more confusing thoughts in his mind after he had just figured out this one.  He didn’t need to over analyze what Roy had said.  All Roy had meant was that he was in charge of both of the boys until their father came back to fetch them, and that was all.  And that was all that Al needed from him.

There was a loud shouting from the hallway, throwing Al from his thoughts, and he had to resist the urge to groan as he recognized the fed-up voice from afar.  Judging by Roy’s reaction, the irritated voice causing his head to jerk up and a smirk to spread across his face like an idiot, Al mentally prepared himself for another session of theratics.

“I swear to GOD Mustang!” Edward screeched, his voice echoing down the corridor and tinged with fury.  “Where the hell are you?!  A blind man shouldn’t be able to sneak around so well!”

Roy laughed softly, bringing a finger to his lips.  “That’s my cue,” he whispered, giving Al a wink.  “I need to be on my way,”

He gave Al a gentle smile, clapping him on the shoulder.  “I’m glad we could talk a little bit.  If you need anything else, just let me know, ok?  I’ll be here,”

“I will.  I promise,” Al agreed.  To his surprise, Roy placed his hand along his neck, pushing his head forward until Al’s forehead smacked against his.

“Good kid.  I’ll be seeing you soon, ok?  Talk to your brother for me.  You’ll be surprised to hear he might be having similar problems,”

Al nodded.  “I will,”  Even if the idea scared him, he knew that if Roy thought it was a good idea, it was.  He wouldn't lead him astray.

The man gave the back of his neck an affectionate squeeze.  “I'm proud of you, ya know?  You’ve done so much for someone so young, so keep going, alright?”

Before Al could say anything in return, Roy stood up, wobbling slightly as he gave Al a mock salute.  “See ya, bud,”

Al felt his heart go warm at the nickname and at Roy’s praise.  He was proud of him.  God, how long had it been since someone had told him that?

Al swallowed back the emotion that was building up in the back of his throat.  “See you, Roy.”

Chapter Text

Al started at the dull beige wall of his hospital room.

He felt empty.  It was the closest he had felt to being back in that suit of armor since he had been restored to his original body.  He listened to the murumed voices in the hallway as the nurses walked back and forth, their muffled footsteps growing louder as they passed his room then diminishing, ignoring the soft, pitying conversations of the nurses by pretending to be asleep.  He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Hell, he didn’t feel like seeing his brother after what he had told him.

Al patted the ruffled sheets in front of him halfheartedly, smoothing them out for the upteenth time that day.  He hadn’t moved from his bed, still wrapped in his thin blanket for some sort of warmth to fill the hollowness that filled in the depths of his heart.  The blanket, while warm and soft, didn’t provide the type of comfort he was looking for, and he sighed, tucking his hand back against his chest to continue his staring.

It was nearing the time for his therapy, but since no doctors had tried to fetch him yet, Al had assumed he was being let off for the day.  He didn’t know if that made him happy or annoyed, but he had decided that feeling anything other than the emptiness that sat in his chest would let loose a torrent of emotions he didn’t feel quite ready to deal with yet.

There was a gentle rapping at the door of his room, and it took a second for Al to notice it, but when he did, he heaved another sigh and readied himself to grab his walker to struggle his way down to physical therapy.  Craning his head upward, neck protesting after being bent against his pillow for so long, he looked to the door to see who would be taking him.

For the first time that day, an emotion other than numbness struck him, a small spark of surprise igniting in his stomach.  Roy Mustang, not a doctor or nurse, was standing there, his hands tucked into the pocket of his hospital gown.  He was leaning against the door frame, unaccompanied by any doctors, and Al got the suspicion that he had left his room again without permission.  His expression was neutral and relaxed, different from everyone else who had spoken to him today, and Alphonse found himself feeling relieved that Roy didn’t look pitying.

“Hey,” Al croaked, voice hoarse from disuse.

Roy lifted his head at Al’s voice, adjusting his stance.  “Hey Al.  How are you doing?”

Roy’s tone remained as calm as steady as his expression, though there was a subtle undertone of concern that made Al’s stomach flip.  He laid back down on his bed, looking towards the wall.

“I’m fine,” he answered, making an effort to keep his tone flat and unbothered, failing as it wavered slighting at the end.  Though he knew he wasn’t fine, and he knew Roy knew as well, it wasn’t like last time when he was too scared to spill his emotions.  This time, Al wasn’t even sure how to describe or if it was even possible to describe what was going on with him, and found it better to wait until there was something other than numbness coating his heart.

Roy nodded at his words, and if he heard the unsteadiness in Al’s voice, he made no comment.

“Is it alright if I come in?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,”

Surprisingly, Al didn’t feel any sort of annoyance or discomfort at being in Roy's presence.  With everyone else that had spoken to him today, he had wanted nothing more than for them to just leave him alone while they tried to comfort him with superficial words and touches of comfort.  He found himself shying away from the ones that weren’t offered by Roy or Ed, as if there was something different about the way their hands felt verus others, though he couldn't quite explain it.

It wasn’t that Al didn’t want company.  In fact, most of him wanted somebody he loved and knew loved him to sit with him and talk, but he couldn't really bring himself to be in his brother’s presence right now.  He didn’t know if it was because he had been the one to deliver the news, or if he felt that he didn’t need any company at the moment, but after his brother had sat with him for while and offered some silent comfort that Al was grateful for, he ended up telling his brother that he needed some time to himself to think.

Roy slowly walked into the room, familiar enough with the layout from his frequent visits that he didn’t need to use his hands to get around, and casually settled himself in his spot across from Al on his bed.  Al, now uncomfortable in his potion of laying down on his bed, having to have tucked his legs up against his chest so Roy could sit, made the decision to sit up and lean against the headrest.

“I heard about Hohenheim,”

Al felt his heart skip a beat at the mention of his father.

It had been early that morning when his brother had come into his hospital room, his restored arm hanging lazily in a sling and his hair done up in one of Hawkeye's ponytails.  Al had still been rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and had assumed the footsteps in his room was one of his nurses coming to take away the remains of his breakfast, which had been a piece of toast with marmalade, and hadn’t paid much attention to the sound.

He had been excited to see his brother so early in the morning, having not expected him for a couple of more hours.  Ed tended to sleep in late, going straight to occupational therapy with Al for his arm right after he woke, and that would often be the first time Al would see him during the day.  Upon seeing his brother, Al had wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up, giving his brother a wide smile and waving excitedly.

“Hey Ed, what’s up?” he had asked, closing his eyes as he was interrupted by a yawn.

Edward had not returned his excited greeting, which was rather unusual despite the early hours of the day.  In the absence of his typical toothy smile that Al had grown to expect over the years, Ed’s eyes had been worn and tired, his face sagging in an expression of exhaustion and confusion, and Al scooted closer to him, his excitement at his brother’s visit being replaced with concern as his brother’s strange demeanor.

“Is everything ok, Ed?”

His brother had let out a long sigh then, sitting on the bed in front of Al, his gaze trained down at his feet.  He remained silent for a while, causing the worry in Al’s heart to grow as his heart beat against his ribs.

“Ed?” he tried again.

At that, Edward finally spoke.  “I've got some news, Al,”

His voice was dull and tired, tinged with anger and irritation.  Al had swallowed worriedly, reaching out to grab Edward's free arm in his hand.  The defeated tone that his brother held was nothing like him, and Al found himself feeling very afraid at what might have caused his brother to be so subdued.  Though his brother tended to be immature, Edward knew when to take things seriously, and he only ever got like this when things were serious.

“What’s wrong, Ed?  Did something happen to your arm?  Is everyone ok?”

At the lack of information his brother had provided him with, Al could feel his thoughts running rampant as he tried to figure out what was causing his brother to be so strange.

Edward shook his head, biting his lip, and to Al’s shock, he could see that his brother’s golden eyes looked almost glassy, his normally kind gaze hard with emotion.  He shut them angrily for a moment at Al’s staring, as if to control himself, then placed his hand over Al’s and looked up at him.

The news he gave him made Al stop breathing for a minute.

“Hohenheim is dead.”

“Yeah.” Al said, tearing himself from the memory to address Roy’s statement, wiping the edge of his mouth with his sleeve.

Al thought he had taken the news rather well.  Insead of bursting into tears or insisting that his brother was mistaken like he was sure everyone else thought he would have, he had just gone wide-eyed at the words and said nothing.  Sure, there was the brief feeling of shock that his father was DEAD, but there wasn’t the traditional grief that followed the news like it had when his mother had passed.

There had just been a sharp, painful feeling of disappointment that enveloped his heart.

Alphonse was an orphan now.  All that was left of his family was his brother and him.  Even though he had been on his own with his brother before, there was always the knowledge that his father was alive and out there somewhere.  Al had always held onto the hope that his father would come back for them.  And he had, right when they needed him most.

And yet, even with the disappointment and sudden shock of his father’s death, Alphonse could find no surprise in his heart that his father had left them again.

He and his brother had sat for a long time in silence, neither of them sure what to say to each other as Al started out the window with a blank expression, absorbing the words, and Edward holding his face in his good arm, looking awkward and upset and broken all at the same time.  Edward normally knew how to comfort his brother, and Al could do the same for him, but in this situation, neither of them could do more than offer silent company.  It was so different from what had happened with Mom.

Roy shifted on the bed, and Al kept his gaze on the wall, folding his hands in his lap.  Roy’s knee bumped against his, and Al tucked his knees up towards his chest to give the man more room.

Roy spoke again.  “I didn’t know that was going to happen.  I’m sorry that I gave you false hope,”

Al felt his heart twist painfully at that, and he shook his head.  ‘Nah, it’s not your fault.  You couldn't have known,”

Roy clicked his tongue.  ‘Maybe not, but I know that it still sucks.  And it’s ok to be sad about it.  Or angry,” he added, a gentle teasing to his tone.  “I already got an earful from Ed this morning,”

Al groaned, rubbing his forehead with his hand.  Of course Ed had taken his anger out on SOMEBODY once he had left Al’s room.  He should've known that Roy would be his first target.

“He needs to not do that,” Al grumbled in Roy's defense.

Roy laughed sadly at his response.  “Ah, it’s alright.  I know the kid doesn’t mean it.  I’ve been working with him long enough as it is.  I’m letting him cool down for a minute before I go find him again, so I wanted to come check on you,”

Al shrugged, blinking tiredly, still not looking Roy in the eye.  “I’m fine,”

“No, you’re not,”

If it had been anyone else who said it, it would have irritated him.  But Roy's voice wasn’t accusing nor irritated, just kind, and Al found that he didn’t really mind it.  He knew that he wasn’t fine, and he knew that Roy knew as well, but right now, he didn’t know how to describe how he was feeling at all like he had before, and he didn’t really feel like trying to navigate the emptiness in his chest at the moment.

“Maybe,” Al agreed, voice dropping down an octave.  “But it is what it is,”

Roy let out a sigh, and Al could tell by the tone of it that he wasn’t going to let Alphonse off that easily.  Al, not really feeling like continuing on with a conversation about emotions he couldn't even explain, turned to look at Roy for the first time to tell him he didn’t know wasn’t trying to hide anything like last time, but the words died on his tongue when he saw him.

Roy was leaned over in his typical fashion, hands out of his pockets as he rested his chin on his palm.  His face was etched with a gentle sadness, but that wasn’t what caught Al’s attention.  It was his hands, which were free of their typical, restrictive wrappings, and Al’s eyes grew wide in shock.

“You got your bandages off!” He gasped, instinctively reaching out a hand to touch Roy’s palms.

Roy smiled, laying his hands out flat as Al ran his own fingers across the scarring in the center of his palms.  The skin was surprisingly soft and warm, making the tips of Al’s fingers tingle each time he lingered for more than a few moments.

The very center of his hands were still red and angry, with bumpy scabs that Al took extra care with so he wouldn’t jar the wounds, letting his fingertips dance across the black stitching he had yet to get removed.  Beyond that, Roy’s skin was only slightly discolored, barely pink where there was raised scarring that slowly faded into his typical ivory skin tone.

“Yep, got them off this morning,” Roy informed him, searching out his fingers as Al rested his palm on tip of Roy’s.  “Show me your face, would ya?  I’d like to get a look at you without the bandages,”

Al took Roy’s wrists eagerly at his request, much like the first time Roy had awkwardly asked to feel his face, yet far more excited.  He couldn't quite explain it, but the idea of getting to feel Roy’s whole hand without the bandages had been something he was impatient for since he first realized how much he craved human contact.  He moved closer to the man until their legs hit, guiding his hands up to his face.  Roy’s fingers tapped the side of his jaw gently, and a smile graced his features as he reached both of his hands forward to cup Al’s face.

Once Roy’s palms made contact with his cheeks, Al melted into the surge of warmth that engulfed his face, a contented sigh escaping his lips.  The touch was entirely different from the first time, much more direct and snug, but it wasn’t overbearing or jarring like the thought it might have been.  Instead, it was wonderfully familiar and soft and kind, and Al let his eyes close as his thoughts wandered, Roy’s thumbs rubbing just underneath his eyes.

When Roy’s hands were wrapped, most of the warmth that Al could feel centered around his fingers, moving whenever he changed the position of his fingers, making it so Al would have to adjust his face constantly if he wanted to keep feeling the comfort that the touch brought.  The bandages did provide some sort of warmth, but the type of warmth from fabric was completely different from the touch of a real human being in a way that Al couldn't describe, and with Roy’s hands now uncovered and cupping his face, Al found the feeling reminiscent of when he was young and his parents would hold his face in the exact same fashion.

He wished his father would have held his face one last time before he died.

As much as he tried to fight it, hot tears started to well in the corners of his eyes as the ache of desperate longing gripped at his chest.  He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes tight to try and keep the water from escaping the corners of his eyes.  Al gulped down a choked breath, trying to calm himself before tears started to stream down at his face, because God, why was he going to cry?  What did he all of a sudden feel so despondent and broken when numbnes had plagued him all day?

Why did his chest hurt so much?

He sniffed as his face grew hot from the effort to snuff out his sobs, his throat starting to close up.  Why am I acting like this? I’m always so emotional.   Why can’t I just deal with this like Ed does? He mused bitterly as tears gathered thickly in the corners of his eyes.  Why can’t everything just be ok already?

Al open his eyes in an attempt to suck back his tears, and through his blurry vision, he could see that Roy’s expression was clouded with sadness, eyebrows drawn together in a concerned manner as he drew his thumb across Al’s cheek again to wipe away the tears that had managed to squeeze their way through despite Al’s attempts to stifle them.

“Your hands are really warm,” Al sniffled, voice breaking at the end.  “It feels nice,”

More tears ran down his cheeks as he spoke, and he tried to take in another gulp of air through his tight throat.  Roy’s fingers wiped away his tears again, and he pressed his warm palms closer to Al’s skin.

“Talk to me Al,” The man pleaded, his voice hardly audible.  “Please,”

The urging, concerned tone, the familarness and warmth of the touch, and the feeling of being held again was enough to make Alphonse break.  He let out a choked cry, sinking into Roy’s hold and burying his face into the man’s hands.

“I was so excited to see him again,” Al sobbed, holding tightly onto Roy’s wrists as he softly caressed his face.  “I know that he left us when we were young, but I always knew he had a reason.  Ed was always so angry and bitter about it,”

Another hitching breath cut him off, his chest constricting painfully and his lungs squeezing as he tried to speak.  He wheezed out another breah, and Roy shushed him soothingly, helping to hold his face up as cried.  Al took in another strained breath, screwing his eyes shut.

“I always had hope he w-would come back for us, and even if Ed never b-believed it he never got angry at me for thinking like t-that,”

Al hiccuped, another pained sound leaving his lips, and he had to take a few seconds to control his stuttering.  “And he did come back!  I was so happy, and I thought that m-maybe we could be a family again.  I know it was naive, but I just hoped,”

He stopped, trying to stifle another loud sob.  His throat was starting to hurt badly now, and his lungs were burning as he held his breath in an attempt to calm himself down.  “And now he’s gone again, for good, and I just feel so stupid for thinking like that,”

Roy didn’t say anything, and Alphonse thought that might have been his nice way of agreeing that he was ridiculous in thinking that his father loved them enough to come back again.  Roy moved his hands away from Al’s face, and before he could let out another sob at the sudden lack of comort, he felt himself being pulled forward.  He was confused as he felt himself thud against Roy’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, holding him close.

Was Roy hugging him?

An arm curled around himl, supporting his back while Roy held his head against his chest, his other hand wrapped around the back of Al’s head as Roy rested his chin on top of his golden hair.  Al stopped crying for just a moment out of shock, listening to the rumble of Roy’s breathing as his chest moved up and down, the man’s throat vibrating against Al’s temple.  Roy was like a france, raiding a soft warmth that filled Al’s whole body, and then Al really did start to cry.

This wasn’t a hug.  No, Al had experienced plenty of normal hugs when he had gotten his body back.  Hugs were different than this.  They were charged with emotion and feelings, like when Ed had thrown himself at Al after he had come back from the gate, hugging him with his frail arm while the other hung uselessly, or when Haweye would come and visit and gently wrap an arm around his shoulder, tucking him into her neck in a way that made his eyes water and heart falter.

Roy wasn’t hugging him.  He was doing what his mother had done when Al had gotten a cold after falling in the creek and couldn’t sleep at night, or when he would have a nightmare and needed to be comforted with a song and loving words, or when his father would pick him up and place him in his lap when his was little while he work a his desk.

Roy was holding him.

Despite the fragility of his still healing hands and oftentimes tough personality, Roy had pulled Al’s crying form into his lap and tucked him into his chest, curling his arms tightly around him in a protective embrace and supporting his head like he was a little kid.  The hold was tender and loving, and it reminded Al far too much of his parents.

Roy was holding Al the same why his parent had held them.  The same why that a parent held their child.  He was never going to feel this way from his parents again.

He wished his father would have done this one last time before he died.

Al felt his face pucker up as another wave of emotions flooded his heart, and he choked over the lump in his throat, burying his face in the crook of Roy’s neck.  Roy was comforting and steady and so warm, and even though he felt terrible and broken and sad, a part of him was so grateful that Roy was there and consoling him.

“It’s not stupid to feel that way, Al,” He said gently, carding his fingers through Al’s shrot hair.  “It’s completely normal to feel that way,”

Al couldn't reply as another wave of tears washed down his face, soaking into the hem of Roy’s hospital shirt.  The feeling of the man’s fingers against his scap was incredibly soothing, causing more emotions to bubble up to the surface.

“If he knew he was dying, why did he leave again?” Al asked wetly, sniffling as Roy tightened his grip around his torso.  “Why didn’t he tell us?”

It hurt Al even more to think that if his father was dying, he didn’t want to spend his last moments with the sons he had been away from for so long.

Roy took in a deep breath, the air resounding in his throat.  “I don’t know, bud,”

Al gripped the collar of Roy’s shirt, trying to nuzzle even closer to the reassuring warmth.  “Why did he have to leave?”

Al wasn’t sure if he was referring to his father’s departure from the hospital, the first time he left them he was just a kid, or his untimely death, but he did know that all of those moments were finally crashing down on him for the first time, and he was finally dealing with the emotions he had unknowingly repressed for so long, childishly clouded with hope that his father would be there for them again.

“I wish I could tell you Al,” Roy murmured against his hair, and by his scratchy tone, Al could tell he was close to showing an emotion other than concern and collectivism.  “But I don’t know.  I don’t think we will ever know,”

As the words sunk in, Al cracked, crying so hard he could barely breathe. It wasn’t loud and blubbering sobbing, but quiet, hitching cries that clutched his lungs and made his chest burn and shoulders shake.  Roy just started to run his hand up and down Al’s back slowly in a soothing manner, and by the way his throat rumbled softly against his head, Al though he might have been humming.

“I wish he would have stayed with us,” he whispered.  “I wish he would have been our dad again.  With mom gone, I was hoping that he would fill that spot,” he swallowed roughly, closing his eyes.  “It hurts,”

“I know, kid.  I’m so sorry.  I wish I could take it from you,”

It hurt so much knowing that his father would never get to see him progress.  He would never see him walk again without assistance or fill out his features and look human again, or be there when Al stepped outside and felt the wind against his skin and felt raindrops travel down his face for the first time in four long years.  He had been so excited to show his father all his new and future accomplishments, and now he never would.

But, Al slowly realized as his crying tittered out as he ran out of tears to cry, breathing growing more even, I have been able to show someone else.

Even if his father hadn’t been there to see Ed and Al grow into their new selves, Roy had been.  He had been there when Al had taken his first couple of steps without help, calling him on the shoulder and flashing him a bright smile.  Even though he couldn’t see him, he made a point to stop by at least once a day to check up on his progress the way that he knew how.  He arranged for Ed and Al to do therapy together when they could and congrulated Al excitedly when he made even the slightest bit of progress.

Roy had told him that he was proud of them.  Of him.

When was the last time he had heard those words?

Maybe he was only doing it because he was their legal guardian for so long.  Maybe Roy only felt responsible for them because he had been in charge of his brother and him for years, and he was only helping the best he could until someone else took over.  Maybe once Ed and Al moved on from his life, Roy wouldn’t care anymore.

But as Roy held him as he cried, rubbing his back to reassure him and letting him get snot and tears all over his hospital gown, and they way he chased after the both of them even after Ed was considered a fugitive and no longer his responsibility, his daily check-ins when they were gone for longer than a few days, and the way he gently pushed Al to talk with him when he knew he was hurting made him hope that there was a chance Roy would stay.

Hope had failed him once, but so had his father, and Roy had never been once to ditch them, despite the dangers and conflicts that being their guardian had.  Maybe hoping for this wasn’t so far-fetched.

“Roy?” Al asked shakily, closing his eyes.

“Yeah bud?”

“With Dad being gone now, do you think you could keep watching out for us?  Even with Ed leaving the military?”

Roy stilled at the words, and Al immediately grew sick, cursing himself for reading too much into the situation, until he felt Roy give him a very tight squeeze and nuzzle his head into his hair.

“Of course.  Of course I will.  I would want nothing more,”

Al felt his heart tighten.  “Really?  You don’t mind?”

“Absolutely not.  You and your brother have been in my life for a long time.  You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he chuckled softly, drawing steady circles with his hand in between Al’s shoulder blades again.  Al felt his chest expand slightly as he took another deep breath.  “I might be a reserved person, but I care about you two.  A lot.  I know that I didn’t always show it in the right way, but you kids managed to worm your way into the deepest parts of my heart and you’ll be there for the rest of my life.  I’ll be here, as long as you’ll have me,”

“Ed too?” Al snifled again, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  He could feel more of that annoying warmth in the back of his eyes, but this time it didn’t hurt like before.  “And you won’t leave?”

“‘Course I’ll be there for Ed too.  And I won’t leave either of you,” He paused, ruffling Al’s hair with a smirk.  “Even if you did try to feed me to Gluttony once,”

    Al let out a watery laugh adjusting his position on Roy’s lap as the memory of running through the woods in the middle of the night resurfaced in his mind.  He had forgotten that he had suggested, though jokingly, tossing the Colonel over to Gluttony because he was the one he was really after.

     Roy moved his hand from Al’s head to wipe his face, hand fumbling slightly as Al directed it up towards his cheek.  “Ok. I’d like that, then.  And so would Ed, even if he doesn’t act like it.  I know he’s mean to you but-”

“Don't worry about that, Al.  I understand that kid more than you know.  Like I said, we’ve had our own hearts-to-hearts before.  I’ll be here for both of you boys,”

Al nodded into Roy’s palm, leaning his head back into the crook of the man’s neck.  Roy adjusted his grip as Al settled, keeping one arm behind his back with a hand on his knee, while the other held the side of his head.  Roy tilted his head to the side, letting his cheek rest on top of Al’s head.

His face was still red and blotchy from the tears, his nose still running, but Al didn’t feel the need to sob into Roy’s chest anmore.  He was still distraught over his father’s passing, the grief and disappointment still sharp and potent in the pit of his stomach.  One session of crying and hugging wouldn’t magically solve all the conflicting feelings he had surrounding his father, and Al suspected that he would have many difficult moments ahead.

Of course Al still wanted his father back.  Of course he still wanted to see him again and hug him and experience life with him, and nothing would ever replace the few treasured memories that he held with him.  But there was something lovely and warming knowing that even if both og Al’s parents had passed, he still had someone to look up to.  He still had someone he could depend on and go to for advice, and share his life and accomplishments with.  He and Ed may have lost a father, but they hadn’t realized, Al lost in naive hope and Ed swimming in anger, that someone had been guiding them all along.

He might not have been Roy’s son by blood, but to Al, that didn’t matter.  He didn’t mind that Roy was stepping in to fill that spot in his heart.  He didn’t expect him to replace his father, or to seal the wound that his father had left him with, but he was sure that Roy would help it heal to the point where the pain didn’t overshadow the good times he still had with his father.

Al snuggled closer to Roy, letting out a tight, figuratie breath that he had been holding for far too long.

“Can I stay like this a while?” he asked softly, voice muffled by Roy’s shirt.  “It feels nice.  It’s warm,”

Roy’s grip tightened, and Al felt him press his lips against the top of his head.  “Stay as long as you’d like, kid,”

Al closed his eyes, throwing an arm around Roy’s neck.  Yeah, he had certainly lost a father that day.

But to Al, and hopefully one day his brother, someone else had rightfully earned the title.

****

Fanart by the lovely CryRan!!!