Closer part I Rating: PG-13 - some cussing Pairing: Roy/Ed pre-slash - good old fashioned UST Spoilers: None in this chapter Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and its characters and situations belong to Hiromu Arakawa and a bunch of studios. All I own are words . . . Summary: Ed gets a lesson in looking properly, and Roy learns that sometimes it pays to keep your mouth shut. Notes: Can be read as a standalone - it was written as a standalone - but became the fic that spawned an epic. Later chapters go up to NC-17 rating, but mostly the fic evens out at an R. There are series spoilers in this fic, just in a weird alternate-timeline sort of way. If you haven't watched the whole series I don't fantastically recommend reading this (for one thing, watching the series is a much better use of your time than reading this) but there's nothing obviously or horribly spoilerish. All other parts are in my memories. Colonel Mustang was working late; he'd put off this paperwork, put it off and put it off and put it off, made a goddamn art form out of procrastination, but First Lieutenant Hawkeye was completely unimpressed by the new heights he had taken his particular medium to. That look in her eye had said it better be done before she came in for work in the morning, and she wasn't the sort of woman who needed to add the 'or else'. Now it was going on for ten o' clock at night and Roy still couldn't make himself start, it was painful to start, if it was wrong to make a prisoner of war go through this it was surely wrong to make a Colonel suffer it . . . The Fuhrer had spotted Roy's desire for power and was trying to subtly kill him through boredom. There could be no other excuse for paperwork like this. He had thought he was alone in the building, tilting his fountain pen up and down and watching the ink flow back and forth because anything was more interesting than work, until he heard a rattling clatter-crash from the outer office. He lowered the pen and looked at the door, and tugged just gently at one of his gloves. It was too late now even for cleaners, so whoever was in there . . . Whoever was in there was muttering, either to themselves or to a much quieter partner, and by the sounds of it had just knocked something else onto the floor. Roy narrowed his eyes slightly as he paused behind the door. What kind of spy is that clumsy? He swung the door open smoothly and stepped half into the outer office, hand raised and fingers angled to click, still partially shielded by the door - and his eyes originally fell a little too high even though he was aiming in the right direction. He looked down, and blinked, and Edward Elric gazed back at him in a slightly unfocused but not remotely perturbed way. He was sitting on the floor with the office first aid kit open on his lap - that must have been the original noise, the kit was kept on a high shelf and Ed had knocked a couple of boxes of files onto the floor climbing up to get it - holding a pad of bandages to his forehead, little ribbons of blood running down the side of his cheek. Roy realised his mouth was open, and Ed was still just watching him perfectly calmly, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening, like he wanted to see what Roy would do next. "What - the hell -" this wasn't exactly the behaviour of a calm and collected superior officer, but what the fuck - "happened to you?" Ed blinked and peeled the bandages from his head with a little wince, looking at the sticky, bloody mess in his hand as if it was interesting, and said, "I got hit by a car. What're you still doing here? It's really late. Do you pretend not to work all day and then do it at night? That's . . . weird." Roy's mouth flapped for a second before he composed himself and walked over, dropping to a crouch beside Ed, who blinked up at him mildly. "You got - how did you get hit by a car? Why aren't you in the hospital?" "It was only a car," Ed said, still sounding very relaxed for Ed, and he wiped at the blood on his forehead with the back of an already-stained white glove. "No-one looks where they're going in this city. It dented my automail." He lifted the arm at Roy and then let it drop again, but he didn't sound at all upset about it. "And my book's ruined. The library's gonna freak, Al's gonna spaz out and Winry's gonna kill me with a spanner." Roy glanced at the carcass of a book, torn beyond repair and driven over by the looks of it, and put two and two and Ed together and said in a slow, sinking voice, "You were reading as you crossed the road." "This never happened back home," Ed said, taking a bottle of antiseptic out of the first aid kit and shaking it before squinting speculatively at the label. "'Course, there're only two cars back home, it was tripping over cowshit that was the problem." "Fullmetal, I think you might be concussed." Roy said, trying to keep his voice calm, trying to think what to do. "Actually, I'm thinking remarkably clearly." Ed said, tugging a scrap of cotton wool out of the first aid kit and popping the lid from the antiseptic with his teeth, spitting it over Roy's shoulder. "It's like all the unimportant thoughts got knocked out of my head. If I was concussed I'd never have thought to come clean up before I went back to Al, 'cause he's really gonna spaz out if he sees me like this. And -" He grunted, eyes tightening slightly, as he slapped the soaked cotton wool to his forehead. "-you're spazzing out, which is weird, because normally you act like king of the fuckin' world and I'm your damn clockwork soldier, and I don't know why a little bit of blood's such a surprise to you. I usually end up bleeding on your stupid pointless missions, or whenever I get close enough to the Stone to think we actually have a chance. What, you're smart enough to pass the State Alchemist qualifications, you can't work that out?" "Full-" "But then, maybe you would spaz out, it's not like we have a normal military sort of relationship. I know you go out of your way to watch mine'n'Al's backs, which you bloody well should considering the crap we go through for you, but I still dunno why. I know you're not looking to be my new fuckin' dad because you stare at my ass whenever I leave your office - which you think I don't know about but I can see your reflection in the window in your door, moron." Ed flicked away the stained piece of cotton wool and dried his forehead with the sleeve of his coat, as if cleaning a wound and then rubbing it with a travel-worn and ever-dirty coat sleeve was a good idea. "But then maybe you do that to everyone, you are a big old man-whore." He stopped rummaging in the first aid kit and took out a large plaster, tilted his head to one side slightly and said, "Do you have a mirror?" "A-?" Roy said faintly. Ed waved the plaster at him. "Can't see to do this without one, idiot. How'd you make colonel? Jeez." Ed sat back abruptly, more obviously bruised now he'd got most of the blood off, and his currently perfectly calm golden eyes searched Roy's shock-blank black gaze. "I guess at least I know that if I get killed, you'll miss my butt." he said, and rubbed his forehead again, wincing. "Maybe I am concussed, I'm actually saying all this shit to you, aren't I? What do you do for concussion, d'you like, lie down for a bit?" His expression changed suddenly, as if he'd just remembered something important, eyebrows knitting slightly and eyes twitching as he moved his forehead, straining the cut. "Actually, I think I do want to lie down for a bit. You're staying still but the rest of the room's kinda spinning. Hey, you're actually the centre of the universe now instead of just you thinking you are, right?" He cackled, and tried to stand up - and pitched helplessly forward, with a little startled yelp, into Roy's automatically lifted arms. Roy stared down at the heavy blond head pressed against his chest, but Ed seemed to have forgotten how to move, hands clutching Roy's arms and pulling his shirt taut. He said, muffled against Roy's chest, ". . . shit." "I'm taking you to a hospital." Roy said, because that at least was a fact that wasn't going to run away from his control. "No you're not, I'm not going to a hospital, I hate hospitals-" Roy stood up, tugging Ed up with him; he swayed and stayed upright because Roy was holding him upright, head still flumped drunkenly against Roy's chest, still dragging at his shirt. "Head injuries can lead to brain damage even when you think they won't, Fullmetal, and even though in some particular cases it is a matter of debate, the brain is an important part of a human being." "Bastard." Ed tried to tug himself away but Roy had him by the forearms, and Ed wasn't currently coordinated enough to get himself free. "You're just fucked off because now you know I know you stare at my ass-" "To be entirely honest," Roy said through gritted teeth, "I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself." "You think I'm gonna tell anybody that?" Ed said, sounding so genuinely horrified that Roy finally let go of the bubble of tension in his chest, almost melting with relief. Ed clearly had no idea how much trouble spreading that around could get them both into; if someone thought it safest to transfer Ed to a different command, someone who wouldn't understand- He paused. "What exactly is so repugnant to you about the idea of anybody knowing that I might be even slightly attracted to you?" He narrowed his eyes. "It happens to be quite the compliment, Fullmetal." "What, because it's you?" Ed sneered, giving another jerk at the hand around his wrist. "It's my ass, how do I know what perverted thoughts you're having about it? Let the fuck go-" Roy sighed, and with just a little grunt of effort, slung the st...
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