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Generally, Roy is one of those people who quietly enter the office before anyone else and are also the last to leave it. He has his reasons, driving him to work as much as possible to increase his network and to broaden his pool of information more and more.
Lately, however, he also has his reasons to want to take sick leave for the next few years, and maybe even flee the country.
As he enters the building this morning, sleepily making his way through the corridors to his office, the reasons are already awake, and have been waiting for him…
“Roy!” Hughes calls out with a laugh, putting an arm around Roy’s shoulders. He doesn't seem to notice that Roy’s expression darkens, or that Roy tenses and rolls his eyes. “How’s my favorite grumpy asshole today?”
“Not as cheery as you,” is all Roy says in response.
Hughes nods and adjusts his glasses with two fingers. “I would wonder why, but I can make an educated guess.”
“Please don’t.”
Hughes does, though. With an almost enraptured grin, he talks about how Roy just doesn't have enough space in his “broken-down shack” of a flat to make anyone want to join him at night and keep him warm. “Of course you’re not cheery, man. You’re lonely!”
Roy falls silent and unlocks the door to his office, but instead of understanding that he should change the topic now, Hughes considers the reaction a win and just keeps on talking. Roy simply sighs wearily—Hughes is right, after all. Of course he’s right.
At least about Roy lying awake for hours at night instead of sleeping—about Roy staring at the ceiling and wondering what went wrong back then, and what he did to deserve the only person he’s ever felt happy with turning out to be an absolute moron.
Everything. Everything went wrong.
Roy has done all of the wrong things, and committed heinous crimes. Of course he deserves to lose everything he holds dear.
As Roy sits down to sort through his mail, Hughes continues to talk about his marvelous night, full of undisturbed sleep, the cause of which was, of course, his daughter curled up in bed with him, her tiny hands wrapped around Hughes’ fingers, putting the warmth of her little body next to his.
Roy sets an envelope down on the desk. “And here I thought that babies scream all day and night.”
“Sure, other babies maybe.” Hughes beams at him, happy that Roy is engaging with his ramblings. “But my little Elicia has the voice of an angel.”
“We both know I don’t believe in angels.”
“You just never met one. Luckily, I can help and—”
“If you take your wallet out of your pocket now to show me pictures of your child,” Roy interrupts quickly, “I will personally burn you to ashes, Hughes.” As Hughes, with a disappointed sound on his lips, lowers the hand that had already gone into his jacket, Roy shakes his head. To soften the hostility in his voice a bit, Roy continues more gently, “Look. Sorry. I just—I’m really not in the mood today.”
And as if on cue, the blissful smile disappears from Hughes’s lips, replaced by the piercing, clever gaze of the friend he still is—somewhere, anyway, buried deep inside underneath being an annoying husband and father. “Fine. Out with it, then, Mustang. What’s eating you?”
For a moment, Roy is silent,actually considering whether to tell him or not. Then, however, Roy decides to simply shrug his shoulders. “Can’t a man just have a bad day?”
“It’s been an awfully long streak of bad days with you.”
Yeah, four months’ worth, just the time your little sunshine has been alive. Isn’t it funny how that works?
It’s been just enough time for Roy to realize that—no matter how hard he had hoped that whatever he and Hughes had with each other could continue despite the marriage—a juvenile fling would never be on the same level as a child .
Hughes beams a flashy grin at him, still far too happy for Roy’s sour mood. “You’re all holed up in here, man; you really need to spend less time with your cheap liquor and more time with actual human people. Whiskey can’t respond to your moping, right?”
“I’m not—”
“So, how about you come over tonight? Gracia would be happy to see you again.”
“I don’t think she’d be happy to babysit yet another person,” Roy says dryly. “She has enough to do with her stupid child. And with Elicia.”
That makes Hughes laugh, and when he eventually rises, shaking his head, Roy dares to hope the conversation is over now. But Hughes tilts his head and looks at Roy thoughtfully, putting a hand on his hip. “Fine. Then I’ll just invite myself over to your place.” There’s a spark in his eyes, but it might just be the sunlight reflecting off his glasses. “You’re not getting out of this.”
Roy sighs.
“And Roy?” Hughes continues, as he turns around, heading for the exit, “jealousy is an ugly thing. It doesn’t look good on you.”
_
That evening, Roy considers sneaking out the back door or even jumping out the window, but first of all, both would be embarrassing; and second of all, Hughes picks him up at his office, so he has no way to escape. So he resigns himself to his fate—albeit reluctantly—and walks next to Hughes, his hands buried deep in his pockets and his eyes everywhere but on the man who keeps trying to catch his gaze and get his attention.
Eventually, Hughes sighs. “You’re stubborn as a mule and just as stupid, you know that, Mustang?”
“I've heard that one before.”
“Good. Because it’s true.” A pause, and then an audible intake of breath. “But I guess I’m stupid, too, then.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying for years, yes.”
With an expression of pure annoyance, Hughes grabs Roy by the shoulders. It obviously takes all of his strength to keep himself from shaking Roy violently, because his arms are trembling with tension. “Roy fucking Mustang, if you don’t shut up for five minutes , I will punch you in the face right here and now!”
Roy blinks.
Hughes sighs once more. “How can such a smart man be so stupid sometimes?” he asks, shaking his head. “I’m trying to apologize here, do you get that?”
Roy raises one brow. Then the other one. He blinks again, trying his hardest to remember what dumb thing Hughes might have done today that warranted an apology—he always does something, after all, but nothing immediately comes to mind. “For what?”
“For thinking I could leave a grown man alone for some time while I take care of a literal infant! But apparently the only thing about you that’s grown is your self-pity, and that is probably so big you have to store it in one of your alchemy-enhanced pockets!”
Roy averts his gaze. “Maes,” he says, his voice sounding as tired as he feels, “I get it. They’re your wife and child. I’m your friend. It’s obvious where your priorities lie.”
For probably the first time in his life, Maes Hughes is quiet. He stares at Roy with his mouth open and his eyes wide, before slowly letting go of Roy and burying his face in his hands. "Oh my god," he mumbles. “You’re an even bigger idiot than I ever thought.”
Roy tenses. Should he have said ‘colleague’ instead?
Slowly, Hughes lowers his hands. “You… you don’t even know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re my boyfriend , you stupid piece of horse crap!”
Roy blinks. Once. Twice. “I’m your what?”
“Don’t tell me you’re having trouble with your hearing, now, too. You really need to pick one struggle, Mustang!” Hughes chuckles without humor, his eyes tired, the corners of his mouth lifting in a pathetic attempt at a smile. “I can’t believe I have fallen for the dumbest genius I’ve ever met, but here I am. Here you are. Here we are. And now, let me tell you, from one dumbass to another—you’re my boyfriend, and I love you. Does that fit in your tiny brain?”
Roy’s head is swimming. His heart feels like it has just grown three times in size. His mouth is dry. Could it really have been that easy? Could he really have been that much of an idiot? They had never… really talked about their relationship status, especially not after the marriage, when Hughes had started to spend more time with his pregnant wife. Had Roy really just assumed the worst the entire time? “I—” He clears his throat and swallows around a lump. “I think that maybe… you need to tell me that again.”
“Sure. You’re an idiot with a tiny brain.”
Roy stares at him.
Hughes laughs, a heartfelt, warm sound that’s so contagious that Roy can’t help but chuckle, too.
“Hey, Roy,” Hughes says after a short silence. “You really should go see Gracia again soon.” Before Roy can tense up, Hughes beams another flashy grin at him. “‘Cause let me tell you a secret here: you were not the only one moping.”
“What?”
“And maybe she told me to stop being a giant baby and talk to you.” Hughes sighs sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “And then she said she’s pretty sure that, if you had even a shred of heterosexuality in your bones, you’d not just be my boyfriend, but hers, too. But since that’s not the way things are, she said we should both stop being ‘like that’ and have a nice night.”
Roy clears his throat, feeling the heat creep onto his cheeks. “I,” he begins, then sighs, shaking his head at the three of them. “I think she’s a very smart woman.”
“She is.”
“Definitely smarter than you.”
“Or you.”
The absurdity of the whole situation makes them both chuckle again.
And when Maes Hughes reaches out to hold his hand—and refuses to let go for the rest of the night—Roy thinks that maybe, just maybe, against all odds, they can work this out. Together.
As two dumbasses who just so happen to be boyfriends.