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“Fullmetal,” Roy’s voice calls, startling him from what he’d thought was sleep but appears to be merely the resting of his eyes, “get up. I can’t lock up if you’re still in here, and I’d like to go home.” What he doesn’t say is that he’s only in charge of locking up tonight because he’d been working so late that the rest of the staff had gone home, and he’d assumed Fullmetal had done the same. He’d commanded the kid to revise his report when he’d presented a half-assed, horribly-scrawled mess earlier, but that was hours ago, and he certainly hadn’t thought the kid would still be here working on it. And he’s not, not really. He’s barely even awake from the looks of it.
“Report,” he croaks. “You said.”
Roy frowns. “Well, if you haven’t finished by now, you’re going to have to do it at the dorms and present it to me tomorrow morning. Early, because I’ve got meetings.” Ed doesn’t move. “Let’s move it. You’ve had plenty of time to work on this. I’m not spending my night here.”
“I’ll lock up,” he says. “Just—not right now.” For the first time, Roy takes a step back and realizes a few things. For one, Ed hasn’t removed his face from the crook of his elbow to talk to him. In that same vein, he hasn’t shouted or cursed once. It’s been a quiet, respectful exchange. And he looks pained.
“Are you… alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt somewhere?”
“Ngh,” he whines. “Just a headache. Leave me alone.”
It’s not rare to hear Edward whine. He does so a lot, in fact. But to, in this moment and under such candid circumstances, admit weakness like this is a bit concerning.
“And you didn’t hit your head and not report it?”
“No,” he snaps. “Go away. I’ll lock up when I can move.”
Roy sighs. Looks like he’s going to be spending his evening taking care of work, anyway. The drivers have long since gone home, so it looks like if he wants his subordinate to leave, he’s going to have to deal with it himself.
“I’ll drive you home. Come on, pipsqueak.”
“I can’t go out in the sun.”
That makes him feel a little nervous. “The sun hasn’t been out in hours. Just how long have you had this headache?”
“Woke up with it,” he says, “but it wasn’t so bad until after lunch.” Lunch. He’s been sitting here for hours like this, all alone.
“You should have asked someone to take you back to the dorms. Or told Hughes. He’d have taken you to his, and I’m sure Gracia would have loved to help.”
“Didn’t want to bother anybody.”
“You’re bothering me now.”
“Didn’t ask you for anything.” That’s true, but what is he supposed to do, just leave him here like this? What if it gets worse?
“Come on. No sun means no excuse. I’m taking you home right now.”
Reluctantly, Ed stands, but as soon as he’s upright, he wavers. Sitting down in the same position might be enough to do that, sure, but it still plants a little seed of worry in Roy’s gut that this is more than just a little headache. If the amount of pain he’s in is any indication, it might be a migraine, and it’s clearly his first one considering he’s got no clue what to do about it.
“Easy,” he coaxes before he even realizes he’s doing it. He places one hand on Ed’s shoulders when his gait doesn’t become less drunken and guides him to the doors. He realizes that Ed might not be as dizzy as he thought when he sees that he hasn’t opened his eyes beyond small slits through which he can’t possibly see well. He’s knowingly relying on Roy, and that’s concerning.
“Do you want to go to the hospital and get checked out?”
“S’just a headache. Need to sleep it off.”
“You’ve been trying that all day. Where has it gotten you?”
“No hospitals. Al’s waiting.”
That’s always the answer. His brother is waiting for him. Of course there’s no way he can make time to take care of himself when he has a brother at home. It irks Roy for some reason despite that deep down, he knows this is just the behavior of a traumatized child and he can’t help it.
“Your brother will understand, you know. Running yourself into the ground like this is stupid.”
“M’not stupid.”
“Didn’t say you were, though you can be.” Ed bristles. “I’m not blaming you. Simply saying that the hospital might be abe to give you something for the pain that might help. What are you planning on telling him, anyway, when you walk in and can’t open your eyes?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“He’s going to assume the worst.”
“I know.”
“Because you have a habit of getting yourself into trouble and not telling anyone.”
“I know.”
“Then why continue to do it?”
“Just shut up,” he begs, stopping in his tracks at the door. “I know, okay? Leave me alone.”
Roy always knows when he’s pushed too far, but never when to concede.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be arguing with you when you have a migraine. Let’s get you back to the dorms, if that’s what your heart is set on.” Ed nods. He’s silent the entire ride, which is unusual for him, especially when Mustang is there. He’d usually be complaining about his work being cut short or jeering at him for being lazy. The uncharacteristic quiet is almost enough to have him defying Ed’s wishes and taking him to a doctor, anyway, but he decides it’s too early for that. If he refuses to report tomorrow for the same reason, maybe then. Now, he needs hydration and sleep.
“We’re here, Fullmetal,” he says as he turns off the car. Ed seems to be almost asleep in the passenger seat, and he shakes his shoulder as lightly as he can. He still winces and groans. “Sorry. Can you get inside on your own?”
Ed nods. “Course I can.” He opens the door and stands, and all Roy sees is his figure through the window standing one second and collapsed the next. Cursing, he exits the car and rushes around the front to find Edward doubled over vomiting. The noise from the door slamming combined with the sudden movement must have sent the migraine over the edge. He waits patiently until he’s finished, then guides him into the building so he can close his eyes once more against the fluorescent light of the hallways.
“Which dorm are you in?”
“Just down the hall. 31.” Roy leads him there and knocks. Inside, he immediately hears the clanking of armor running around.
“Brother, you’re—oh, hello, Colonel,” he greets. “Is something wrong?”
“It seems that your brother has a bit of a headache. I saw him home.”
“Are you okay?” Al fusses. Ed nods.
“Fine, fine. Just gotta sleep it off.” Al looks to Roy for contradiction, and he shrugs.
“He should be alright with some rest.” He turns his attention to Ed. “I’ll give you a day’s extension on your report. If the migraine hasn’t gone away by tomorrow afternoon, I expect you to see a doctor.”
“Fin,” he grumbles, but Roy doubts he really means it. It’s more for Al’s benefit than his own—Al will make sure he takes care of himself.
“Thank you for bringing him home.”
“Not a problem.” He hands Ed over to his brother and turns to leave. “You two have a good night.”
“You too, Colonel.” Yeah, what’s left of it, he thinks. The kid is always bothering him in some way or another. Still, he’s glad he didn’t just leave him there at work. Riza will be proud—perhaps even enough so to let him reschedule a meeting or two. He can only hope.