Sorry,
mistr3ssquickly. The bunnies refused to allow smut. However, they left me room for a smutty sequel. XD
Title: Sick Leave
Author: tir-synni
Series: FMA
A/N:
mistr3ssquickly wanted Roy/Ed set around Ed outgrowing his automail. However, I think it's going to be in two parts, not one. *coughs* Sorry.
Next two parts:
Part II and
Part III
Sick Leave
Colonel Edward Elric hadn’t deafened half the office when Roy had accidentally mentioned his new uniform size.
That had been his first hint something was wrong.
Fuhrer Roy Mustang’s second clue was the cup of coffee spilled all over his floor. The fact that it hadn’t been spilled all over him indicated that it was a true accident, and one didn’t achieve Fullmetal’s reputation by being clumsy.
The third clue, and the most worrying one, had been Fullmetal’s silence concerning his recent changes in uniform. Since his brother’s . . . cure . . . Fullmetal had sprouted several inches. Everyone in the Fuhrer’s office had been waiting for the young blond to prance around the office, idly tossing off height comments and smug grins all the while.
It never happened.
Whenever a quiet, pale Fullmetal would deposit the latest research report on his desk, questions concerning the youth’s health had been on the tip of his tongue. However, Roy had kept quiet and told himself that it was just a phase. Teenagers went through them all the time.
A feeble excuse that flew out the window when Fullmetal laid the paperwork for sick leave on his desk.
“I admit, you look a little peaky, Fullmetal,” Roy commented mildly, scanning the papers. “But isn’t three months for a cold a little . . . much?”
Three months. Fullmetal hadn’t even asked for three months after the near-fatal injuries inflicted on him by the homunculi in the final battle.
“Automail surgery,” Fullmetal enunciated, worn features straight. “Complete automail surgery. My mechanic is coming up here tomorrow to begin it.”
With lazy ease, Roy placed the papers on the desk. However, he didn’t sign them yet. “Complete?” he inquired.
Fullmetal glowered at him, a spark returning to his eyes. To Roy’s surprise, Fullmetal’s eyes looked red-rimmed and dull, amber instead of their usual smoldering gold. When had that happened? Why hadn’t he noticed?
Deliberately, Fullmetal tapped his shoulder. “I outgrew the automail,” he said simply. “I need it completely replaced.”
And thus the reason for the lack of bragging. Roy glanced at the paperwork again, hoping the move hid his eyes. He had read up on it. He knew what it entailed. Ever since Fullmetal had joined the military, he had gone out of his way to protect him and his brother. Automail, on the other hand. . . . Nothing within his power could help Fullmetal with that.
He’d protect him as much as he could, though.
Meeting Fullmetal’s eyes, Roy placed the unsigned paperwork off to the side on his desk. “Since she’s not coming until tomorrow,” he commented, “there’s no rush.” He glanced at the top paper. “As it says ‘effective immediately,’ it’ll be official as soon as I sign it. I’ll work on some of my other papers, and then I’ll get back to it.”
Fullmetal bristled. “It was right in front of you! Why couldn’t you sign it then?”
Roy couldn’t resist a smirk. “You’ve been in the military for a long time. Surely you know how the bureaucracy works.” Fullmetal glared, and Roy felt something within him loosen. Automail surgery was bad, but Fullmetal would survive it. It was just three months. Just three months. “Until then,” he continued, “why don’t you wait on the couch?” Roy gestured at his beloved couch, brought with him from his previous office. “I’ll tell you when I get to it.”
Fullmetal glowered, but Roy’s smirk never changed. Déjà vu flashed through Roy’s mind, and apparently Fullmetal’s, too, as he huffed and stalked to the couch. Roy’s hands clenched slightly as he noted Fullmetal’s slight limp. The limp had been there all along, right beside the weary eyes and pallor. Roy had been just too stubborn to notice it.
Roy took care not to look at Fullmetal as he sat stiffly on the couch. They both knew the inevitably of it, as Roy read and signed other papers and Fullmetal braced himself on the couch. Even as Roy tried not to chuckle, Fullmetal sat straight-backed, lips tight and hands folded tightly in his lap. While Roy signed paper after paper, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Fullmetal slumped, sat straight up, and slumped again. One hour passed. One became two, two shifted into three. By the end of the workday, Fullmetal had abandoned all pretenses and curled up on the couch, Roy’s favorite coat wrapped defiantly around him.
Getting Fullmetal to go to sleep was just another benefit of this little act.
Finally, at the end of the day, Roy signed the paper and rose. His body cracked audibly when he stretched, and he recalled dreamily the days of sneaking out of the office, sometimes via window, to flirt with whatever cute thing he happened to come across. With his current schedule, the only cute thing he’s come across has been. . . .
Well. Fullmetal.
After a moment, Roy decided it wasn’t best to push Fullmetal’s current limit by pointing that out.
He kneeled beside the sleeping blond and slipped off a glove. Roy brushed Fullmetal’s long bangs to one side, frowning to himself at the heat radiating against his fingers. How long had he kept his eyes shut to this?
“Fullmetal, sleeping on my couch again?” he inquired. The blond didn’t budge. He tried again. “You know, you’re the only one whose legs don’t hang off the couch.” Still nothing. Wow. Fullmetal had been tired. Roy slid his hand down from Fullmetal’s forehead to his left shoulder, gently shaking it. That got a reaction.
Fullmetal bolted up on the couch, a scream caught behind his teeth. Wild, too-bright eyes stared at him. Then, as if he finally realized where he was, Fullmetal’s eyes sharpened into a dark glare. “Bastard,” he snarled.
Roy flushed. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly. His hand felt burned where he had grabbed the blond. Roy studied Fullmetal’s white, white face and struggled to ignore the nausea roiling in his gut. “Should I get a doctor?”
Fullmetal glared at him. “I don’t need a doctor!” he snarled. “I’m fine!” He hauled himself to his feet, and Roy clenched his jaw when he noted Fullmetal’s stumble. Fullmetal’s good hand tentatively touched his shoulder before jerking back. “Now that the paperwork’s signed, I’m going back to the dorm.”
“The dorm?” Roy echoed. His mind flashed back to his last visit to the dorms. He frowned. “Were you planning on having the surgery in the dorms?”
Fullmetal scowled, stalking towards the door. “Yeah,” he sniped. “What’s your point?”
Things weren’t adding up in this particular scenario. They weren’t adding up at all. “Don’t you usually go to Rizenbul for this surgery?” Roy inquired, rising and walking to Fullmetal’s side. After all this time, Fullmetal finally stood up to his chin. The young colonel was reaching a stature that matched everything else about him.
Fullmetal didn’t meet his eyes, and Roy noted wryly to himself that it had to reach this point before Fullmetal had requested sick leave. Maybe it had gotten too far for Fullmetal to ride a train for three days, too.
No. That didn’t sound right, either.
“Alphonse is staying in the dorm with me,” Fullmetal informed him, his voice sour. “If I have any problems, he’ll know what to do.”
So keep your nose out of it.
Fullmetal was one of the few people that Roy knew whose nonverbal and verbal speech were both violent.
“And where is Ms. Rockbell staying?” he inquired. “Surely she isn’t staying in the dorms as well.”
Fullmetal’s back was stiff. Roy hated to imagine how his shoulders had to feel at that moment. “Mrs. Hughes is allowing her to stay at her place,” the blond growled. “S-she’s going to help with Elysia.”
“Of course.” Roy hesitated, the same emotion that kept him from inquiring about Fullmetal’s health quieting him now. In the timeframe he was thinking of some advice to give or whether he should even give some advice, Fullmetal stalked out the door, his left foot dragging a little behind him. Roy watched him go. “I was going to go with you, you know,” Roy said aloud. Mocking silence answered.
Fullmetal’s absence was noted immediately in the office. Despite his recent quietness, the blond’s temper and vicious intelligence and wit had kept things lively in the Fuhrer’s office, just like it had in Roy’s former offices. Roy pointedly ignored the curious/concerned looks and whispered gossip, getting more work done than if the now Colonel Hawkeye was standing in behind him. He knew exactly what was happening, where it was happening, and he knew Fullmetal could easily deal with it. After all, Fullmetal had gone through it before. What could take someone out for an easy six months could easily be dealt with by Fullmetal in three months. There was no reason to worry.
None at all.
If Lieutenant Colonel Havoc had to continuously return paperwork to him because he did it wrong, well, it was boring paperwork, anyway.
Alphonse Elric visited the office in the second week of Ed’s sick leave. He strolled through the office like it was the home of a good friend, charming various workers with a bright smile and breezing into Roy’s office without a hint of trouble. Roy would’ve wondered about security if he himself hadn’t folded instantly at the sight of Alphonse’s smile. Alphonse smiled like he walked on sunshine and wondered why everyone else wasn’t walking beside him. He smiled the smile of someone who hadn’t been able to smile for years and was making up for lost time. And Roy decided he better end that train of thought before he spent his next paycheck helping Al make up for that time.
“Good afternoon, Fuhrer!” he greeted him cheerfully. “You look better than when I last saw you.”
Roy grinned, refraining from mentioning that Alphonse had still been getting used to seeing from actual eyes when he had last seen the brunet. “How are you, Alphonse?” he asked warmly. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in Central since your . . . recovery.”
Al grinned and walked in front of Roy’s desk. Everyone else but the Elric brothers was intimidated by the magnificent furnishings. Fullmetal considered everything his and thus he had the right to set his feet anywhere he so desired. Alphonse, the more sedate brother, didn’t go that far, but he still didn’t show any problems relaxing in front of Roy.
“I’ve been getting things settled in Rizenbul,” Al admitted, hazel eyes sparkling. “Before Brother returned to work, he fixed up Granny’s place so I could have some extra room.” His smile softened, growing a little shy. “He even set up a place for my kittens, so I’ve been helping the little guys out.”
Roy smiled. Of course. For all Fullmetal’s vehement rantings and fanged snarls, he was the biggest softy in the world where his brother was concerned. It was . . . cute.
Alphonse shook his head a little. “But that wasn’t the reason I came,” he continued. Alphonse’s brilliant smile faded, and Roy wondered why he felt the need to kiss Al’s ass. Maybe it was the knowledge that if Fullmetal knew that he upset his baby brother, automail surgery or no, he would drag his butt over here simply to thrash Roy.
“I was wondering why you hadn’t visited Brother yet.” The chill in Roy’s chest, oddly enough, increased at the statement. “When he was in the hospital last time, you never left his side.”
That was different. Circumstances were entirely different.
But if he said that to Alphonse, the youth would happily remind him why Fullmetal wasn’t the only intimidating Elric.
“I’ve been busy,” Roy replied mildly. “I wasn’t Fuhrer then.”
Alphonse’s eyes hardened, even if his expression remained calm. “You couldn’t find any time in two weeks?”
Only Alphonse could ask a question like that and make it accusing without a single aggressive note in his voice.
“I’ve been busy,” Roy offered lamely. Wow. A Fuhrer-worthy response.
Alphonse raised an eyebrow. “I spoke with Lieutenant Colonel Havoc before coming in here,” he retorted easily. “He said he could clear up your schedule this evening so you can visit Brother. The others would like an update on his condition, and they decided you were the best choice.”
Gee. That was nice.
Roy hid a flinch. Alphonse seemed to sense it anyway, as his brilliant smile from before returned. “I’ll see you this evening in the dorms!” he chirped. “I’m sure Brother would love some company!”
Not giving Roy a time to respond, Alphonse turned around and walked out.
Roy didn’t even wait till the door was closed before burying his face in his hands. He didn’t want to see Fullmetal. But it didn’t seem like he had a choice in the matter.
Mental note: Never, ever underestimate Alphonse Elric.
And thus, several hours later and with Havoc’s smug grin in his mind, Roy visited the dorms. Even out of uniform, numerous people recognized the new Fuhrer, as displayed by the whispering as Roy walked by. He ignored it to the best of his ability and kept walking. He hoped Fullmetal knew what he did for him.
Actually, he doubted Fullmetal would care. If anything, he was expecting the colonel to snarl at him for daring to visit while he was vulnerable. Then, of course, Fullmetal would have to prove he wasn’t vulnerable by doing something stupid that could potentially hurt him worse.
Considering the alternative was disappointing Alphonse, Roy was, to put it succinctly, fucked.
New and old military alike stopped and saluted as he walked to Fullmetal’s dorm, making him wonder if he should have just stayed in uniform. Looking around at the drab interior of the dorms, with the almost painful looking furniture and the sleepy looking walls, Roy also wondered why the hell Fullmetal had yet to buy his own place. With his rank and paycheck, Fullmetal could probably find a good home. Surely, it had to be better than this dank place.
Second mental note: Schedule renovations for the dorms.
Third mental note: Nix last mental note. Dorms like this had to build character.
…Was it just Roy, or was the hall to Fullmetal’s dorm the most shadowed, haunted looking hall in this entire dormitory?
Later, Roy would neglect to remember exactly how long he stood in front of Fullmetal’s dorm. His mind treacherously reminded him of the last time he had stood in front of a place like this, hand inches from Fullmetal’s door. Last time he hadn’t knocked. Last time he had just entered.
He had learned his lesson.
(Un)Fortunately, Alphonse was generous enough to break Roy’s standstill with the door. “Fuhrer, sir!” he greeted cheerfully. “We were just wondering when you were going to arrive!” Smiling, he swung the door wider open, revealing the bland interior of the room. Already, Roy could see the books piled everywhere. “Winry’s with Brother, checking on his ports. She’s checking to see if he’s ready yet for the next stage.” Alphonse’s lips drooped. “Um . . . please don’t excite Brother. He’s . . . not in the best health at the moment.”
He wasn’t then, either.
Roy hoped his thoughts didn’t show on his face. “I don’t want to interrupt anything,” he said quickly. “I can just-”
Alphonse gently touched his arm, silencing him. “You’d probably help distract him. He could definitely use some distraction.” Before Roy quite comprehended the situation, Alphonse was ushering him into the room and shutting the door behind him. Chattering about Edward’s latest research about chimerical transmutation, Alphonse politely dragged Roy into the dorm’s tiny bedroom.
Stepping in, Roy’s first thought was, How did Alphonse fit in here when he was a suit of armor?
His second thought was, I didn’t want to see this.
Panting weakly, Edward Elric lay on the small bed, bright eyes shut and expressive face flushed and sweaty. Beside him, Winry Rockbell was wiping Fullmetal’s . . . Edward’s face with a wet rag. Her eyes were shiny, but Winry’s face was stony as she whispered to the other blond. Roy clenched his fists.
It wasn’t Ms. Rockbell last time. It was-
“Winry?” Alphonse called gently, distracting him. She looked up and smiled faintly.
“So you finally dragged him out here.” Winry turned back to Ed. “About time.”
Alphonse flushed a little. “He’s stubborn. They both are.” He cleared his throat. “He’s finally here, though.”
Winry nodded thoughtfully. She squeezed out the rag, dipped it back in the cool water, and replaced it on Edward’s forehead. Edward moaned a little, and Roy felt Alphonse flinch beside him. It was all right. He wanted to cringe away, too.
Winry leaned over as Roy was contemplating the situation and kissed Edward’s temple. She whispered one last thing in Ed’s ear before walking towards the door. To Roy’s surprise, she grabbed Alphonse’s arm. “We’ll see you later, Fuhrer,” she chirped. “Take care of my patient while Al treats me to dinner.” Her eyes glittered dangerously for a moment, making Roy recall every Winry-related curse Edward had uttered in his office. Then Winry dragged Al off.
Is that a Rizenbul thing? Roy wondered. His dark eyes widened. They left me alone. With Fullmetal.
And he, the great manipulator, had actually fallen for it. Damn. He felt dumb.
Roy swallowed but nonetheless turned to the feverish figure on the bed. Edward didn’t seem to notice his presence or Winry’s lack there-of. Edward groaned and tried to turn on his side, drawing Roy’s attention to the ports. They didn’t look complete. As he stepped closer to the bed on the far side of the room (how had Alphonse fit on the other bed? Edward barely fit!), Roy wondered how much further the surgery went. She had yet to install the automail itself. Edward’s left leg was only a stump. There was nothing left of Edward’s right arm at all.
It never stops. It never stops for you.
But why . . . are you still here? Why are you still in the military? You had options. I know two choices in particular where Edward could have flourished. Why had he chosen the most painful option?
Underneath the dripping rag, Edward’s face was drawn and sickly. Swallowing thickly, Roy took the seat Winry had vacated. “F-Edward?” he asked quietly. “Are you awake?”
Edward groaned but didn’t open his eyes. Roy picked up the rag and began to gently dab his face.
He asked for three months. He’s only been on sick leave for several weeks. How much more-
Edward’s dull eyes fluttering open caught Roy’s attention. He replaced the rag on Edward’s head. “Are you awake?” he repeated.
Edward groaned and turned his head away. The rag started to slide off before Roy caught it. “W-what are you doin’ here, y’ bastard?” he grumbled, closing his eyes again.
Roy started dabbing at Edward’s glowing red cheeks. “Your brother decided you wanted my company,” he replied drolly. “I didn’t have much choice.”
Mumbling something beneath his breath, Edward cracked an eye open. “Ge’ out,” he growled. “I . . . I don’ wan’ company.” He closed his eye again and determinedly faced away.
The words were out before Roy could stop them. “You didn’t mind company then.”
He regretted it instantly as Edward slit his eyes open. “Wha’ you talkin’ ‘bout, y’ bastard?” Edward murmured. “Then?”
Roy shook his head. “Never mind. You need to rest.”
Even as sickly as he looked right then, Edward’s glare was impressive. Unfortunately for Roy, it also seemed to liven the younger alchemist up a bit. “Is this the reason you’ve been treatin’ me like shit lately?”
“I haven’t-” Roy started, but Ed’s scoff shut him up.
“You haven’ talked wi’ me at all!” Edward accused. “I . . . I thought . . . after all that shit . . . that we were friends! Bu’ you din’-” Edward coughed weakly and closed his eyes. “Fuck you.”
Roy stared at his lap. “Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “You’re ill.”
Edward opened his eyes just enough to glare balefully at Roy. “I’m outgrowing my automail.” His voice, though still raspy, was stronger. Roy wondered how much of it was will and how much was pure fury. After a moment, he decided it was for the best that Edward was bound to the bed. “I’m not dying.”
Roy’s eyes trailed to the half-finished ports. Pale, shiny scar tissue and stark crimson flesh surrounded the ports. He tightened his jaw, ignoring the flash of pain it sent through his skull. His mind graced him with the image of Edward’s body pushing against the ports, growing and pushing and expanding past what the unrelenting metal allowed. He mentally cringed.
“I never said you were,” he replied evenly. “But you need your rest.”
Edward’s good hand snatched his collar before he could move an inch. Fever-bright eyes blazed at him. “Explain,” he rasped. “Now.”
Edward’s thin arm was trembling with the effort of holding him. Roy knew that all he had to do was pull back to break that tentative grip. He also knew that if he did that, Edward would truly never speak to him again.
“I didn’t feel the need to interrupt your time with Prince Ling,” Roy retorted coolly. “From what I heard, you were getting an impressive offer to be the consort of the future emperor of Xing. I didn’t want to distract you from such important decision-making.”
Edward gaped at him. To Roy’s utter shock, Edward began to laugh. He actually began to laugh. Within the first minute, he started wheezing and coughing, but the fact that he laughed in the first place was mind boggling. Roy drew himself up, insulted. “Is something the matter?”
Edward’s good hand released Roy’s collar to gently finger the swollen skin around his right shoulder, but his shimmering eyes were still dark with mirth. “Y-you thought,” he choked, “that Ling and I-” Edward began to cough, and this time, Roy slipped a hand around his back helping him to sit up. Edward’s bare back was hot and rough against his skin, making him wonder how many scars were back there. “Ling offered, but I refused. I wanted to stay in the military.” Edward smiled wanly at him. “I wanted to stop any further experiments like Tucker’s and learn how to help the victims.”
And just like that, the pieces fell together. Roy fell back in the chair. “And here I thought I might be a factor,” he admitted.
Edward stretched a little on the small bed, looking wan and drained. “Egotistical bastard.” He sighed wearily, reminding Roy about the cloth. It was warm in his hand, and he dipped it back into the water. That, at least, was still cool.
“It had nothing to do with it?” Roy persisted, stroking Ed’s hot face with the cloth.
Edward grunted but didn’t reply. Roy took that as “something” but didn’t ask further.
Over two more months of sick leave. I can learn something by then.
Something tightened within Roy as Edward leaned into the cloth. “So Ling didn’t tempt you at all?” he inquired, reaching out with his other hand to touch Edward’s hot cheek. “The consort of an emperor. . . . Everything you wanted would be handed to you on a silver platter.”
A contemptful glare answered him. “If you believe that, you’re even more of an idiot than I. . . .” Edward’s last words were lost in a weak snore, and Roy smiled a little.
Two more months. I can handle that.
When Winry and Alphonse returned, Roy’s right hand was holding the damp rag on Edward’s head. His left was holding Edward’s hand.
Part II