This is written for prince-of-the-palmtrees. A little bit of RoyEd hurt/comfort by her request. This is early in the series, so not quite developed /feelings/ for these two, but the potential is there.
Ed left the report on Roy's desk without a word and turned to go. If the quiet hadn't been such a red flag, the way he wouldn't even bring his eyes up certainly was. Mustang had gotten well used to the flippant commentary and the way that golden gaze would lock on him in defiance as if to scream "Ha, I did it". There was none of that today, no quips about Roy's uselessness or what a pain in the ass this work or that report was. Without even thinking about it, Mustang was out of his chair and catching up to Ed before he could reach the door, taking one shoulder in his hand. Ed hissed and spun around, as if he expected something more monstrous than Roy to be behind him, and when his eyes focused, all the fight drained out of him, and he muttered an apology.
Like some animal trying not to be noticed, the blond was doing his absolute best to be still. Roy laid his hand on the other shoulder, holding them both now and feeling the fine tremble underneath his touch. Even with so little space between them, Ed still wouldn't look at him. Mustang felt his chest go tight against a swell of guilt, a moment like this reminding him of Ed's age and how he should have been doing something else, anything else besides cleaning up the government's messes.
"Edward, what's wrong?"
Fullmetal didn't answer, didn't look up. His body drew up and tensed further, but he wasn't pulling out from Roy's grip, so he didn't let go just yet.
"Ed…you know you can talk to me…right?"
The spark came back, a flame lighting in the boy's eyes. There was the anger, the challenge, the pain. Mustang read so many more words in the look than he ever would have gotten out of the teen's mouth. Can I really? Can I trust you? It hurts. Roy was braced for the yelling, the protests, the insistence he could take care of himself, but something was holding the blond back. And he didn't waste the moment. One small step diminished the distance between them, and his arms slid around Ed's back, pulling him against his chest.
"The fuck are you doing, Mustang?" came the voice muffled by the front of his uniform.
Ed's entire body was still and taut, like a bowstring about to snap. Roy would be at point blank range if he did, but that didn't stop him. Not when the shaking returned; he felt like letting go would just solidify Ed's mistrust, and Roy had already done enough to Ed's life. Betraying that tentative trust was not going to be one of those things.
"You don't have to answer me," Roy murmured. "I'm here."
He jerked like he'd been struck, and Mustang held his breath when Ed's hands came up. But then they were fisting in his uniform jacket, holding on tightly. He turned his face into Roy's chest so that all the older man could see was a head of gold and red-clad shoulders that were carrying some terrible weight he couldn't see and didn't know how to lift. He rested his cheek against soft hair and held him just a bit tighter. When Ed shuddered and started shaking harder, he knew better than to say a word. Fullmetal's pride wouldn't allow it to be acknowledged. He was hiding and Roy was determined to let it always be a safe place; even if it was the only one Ed had.
They stood like that for what felt like hours, and Roy didn't falter, didn't loosen his hold. Finally, Ed squirmed until Roy reluctantly let go. He hastily ran his gloved hands over his face and glared daggers at the Flame Alchemist.
"Asshole," he spat, but there was something about his red-rimmed gaze that betrayed what he was really saying.
Roy chose to accept the unspoken and didn't take offense at the insult. The shaking had stopped and the burden on Ed's shoulders didn't seem so heavy. If that was the price for that, he would pay it with any insult the blond could throw at him. The glare lingered on him a moment longer before Ed abruptly turned and stormed out, making sure to slam the door behind him. Mustang let out a sigh and smiled as he headed back to his desk.
As predicted, Hawkeye came in a moment later with a file folder and that crease in her brow that suggested her concern for Fullmetal's dramatic exit.
"Are you all right, Sir?"
"Just fine." He reached for the report Ed had left. He needed to know what nightmares he'd just fought.
"Your have something on your jacket, Sir."
"Spilled my water, Hawkeye. It'll be gone soon."
She collected his signed paperwork with a nod.
Neither of them mentioned that there was only a cold cup of coffee on his desk.