Everybody has something to hide: a silver flask kept in the back of a pen drawer; a scribbled note on a pocket watch; a smile; a scream. But, like all secrets, they can't be kept forever. We're only human.
"Did you love him?" It's the first thing he's said since he entered the office, and all Roy can seem to offer is, "...Excuse me?" There's not nearly enough in that tone to make the surprise sound plausible.
"Hughes, did you love him? Did you love Hughes?" The blonde's staring so hard at the floor that Roy is certain the ground will explode beneath him. It's more than a little obvious by the impatient flare in his tone that he's not happy about asking the question, but for whatever reason, has found it deeply necessary.
After a long pause Roy finally manages to reply. It's a little too quiet, a little forced, and It's probably not something he should have said; At least not to a boy and especially not to a subordinate. But he's lacking in too much spark and flare to argue on an answer with Edward.
"Yes, Fullmetal. I loved Maes."
Gold irises convulse and dilate, brows furrowing in an ugly display of hesitance and confusion. Roy notices fingers twitching beneath gloves, and the child shuffles awkwardly. God he can just see it coming to a head, doubt flared. Roy doesn't think that Ed even knows he's scooted away as if Roy's own emotions are a diseased thing. And even though Roy never spoke up on the kind of love he had, the pretext of it already hangs in the air. Ed's a smart boy, he'll figure it out.
"So did you sleep with him?"
"That's going a bit far--" This time, Roy's wide eyes and pitched tone give everything away. His flawless mask of authority crumbles to the floor with sickening weight. The first question could be considered a valuable piece of information, perhaps. The second, coming from the lips of Edward Elric no less, was just ridiculous. And of course, Ed is quick to get his temper hot at the first sign of defense from the Colonel. And as Roy had known, Ed had figured it out. Gotten it right on the mark and Roy found himself floundering for defense, because he hadn't really wanted Ed to figure it out.
"Just answer!"
It takes longer than a minute for Roy to do so. He really doesn't want to be answering these questions, and in all his authority, there was no need to. As much as he'd like to think he owed Ed shit, it was a lie. He felt as if he owed him the world and more for dragging him into the mess of the military. So, tired and unwilling to keep up the tension and fight, he answers, "...Yes."
Ed's reaction would be priceless, if Roy were watching, but a smudge of coffee stain on his desk has become a sudden object of interest, so it goes unnoticed. However, there's a smug, and perhaps a little disgusted tone in Ed's next question. The tiny alchemist accepts it, but doesn't necessarily like it.
"Why are you being so honest with me?"
Roy thinks about giving him the real reason, but telling Fullmetal that he's too beaten, broken, and exhausted to be a prick right now might not instill a lot of confidence in the boy. That would put him two steps behind.
"You'd be amazed what a little whiskey can do to a man Fullmetal. Besides, who said I'm telling the truth?" The sound of his voice is like the rake of gravel over stone, but he doesn't have any cigarette butts in his pocket to excuse it. The sarcasm drags with a little too much force and Roy's anger is finally spawned. Count on Ed to turn the tables and make Roy look like the fool.
"'Cause you just about gave it away, idiot. Where are you hiding your whiskey?" Apparently Edward isn't buying any of it. No surprise there.
Roy has a hard time keeping up the mask, and the temper that came with it. Not only that, he was just conned into sharing his whiskey. Or at least his confession of it. He's not sure if Ed will even be interested in the vile drink he seemed to cling to like a dark secret.
"Why, do you feel like being honest as well?" He hopes the counter will be enough to deter the stubborn blonde from the sensitive subject at hand, but it isn't.
There's no verbal retort, but the answer is obvious enough, so he waves a hand in lazy gesticulation, gaze still fixed on the first three lines of a report on his desk. He'd read those lines seventeen times since the tiny alchemist came into his office, all flurry and flame. He hadn't been able to get past them. "First drawer on the right."
"Hand it over here."
Those tired eyes rise to the tiny blonde sprawled out on the squeaky leather couch. His fists are clenched and there's a wild look in his eye. Like hell is Ed going to step anywhere near him right now, and for once, Roy doesn't blame him for keeping the distance. At least they stand on even ground for once.
Roy's chair hasn't moved once, not a creak of leather or groan of wood. He sits stock still, chin resting on gloved fingers while he watches Ed's leg bounce nervously.
Gold stares down ebony with the absence of its usual spark and flare. Weary eyes, sad eyes. Finally with a long suffering sigh, exaggerated in pitch, ebony gives in and Roy reaches for the flask. He tosses it to Ed who makes a perfect catch and stares at it in disgusted scrutiny. Judging by that expression it's clearly needed, not wanted.
Roy turns conveniently away to open the blinds as Ed twists the metal cap off and takes a healthy swig. He doesn't even cough, Roy notes with a quirked brow. This obviously wasn't the first time he'd downed a shot or two, but Roy's right, it clearly isn't his drink of choice. Wasn't Roy's either, but it's Hughes's flask and Hughes's whiskey. Somehow it seems right that, if he should be getting sloshed at work at all, this was surely the way to go about doing it.
"Why do you seem so interested in my past relationship with Brigadier General Hughes, Fullmetal?" It's not a subject Roy will normally indulge in, it's sensitive, illegal, and private. But for whatever reason, he feels compelled to ask. Is Ed just acting the part of the curious scientist or...does he actually icare/i? Roy stands to walk to the door and shut it, leaving them both in a private sanctuary of locks, sun warmed walls, and whiskey coated consciences. Roy sprawls on the couch next to Ed, boots crossed on the squat wooden table littered with papers and lingering traces of coffee stains.
Roy expects Ed to scoot away from the unwanted company, or at least a wary glance shot his way. When he gets neither he looks over to the boy, only to find him staring in mute fascination. It's not the first time Roy's seen Ed look at him with interest, but the moments are few, and usually, from Roy's point of view, irrelevant to anything. "Last time I checked Fullmetal, I was not on your list of interests. Keep your attention on alchemy, there's no place for me in that stare," Roy murmurs in response. It's not much, and they both know it. Roy's grasp on his own facade is like a bean pinched between slippery fingers.
"That was a really stupid thing to say. I'm not ionly/i interested in alchemy," Ed says bitterly, a touch of hurt in those gold eyes. But he recovers quickly shooting a glare to the Colonel. That glare hides so much pain.
"Your brother doesn't really count. Although I admire a man who can keep his eye on the prize, you are not a man. You're a boy, and boy's should be thinking about girls, school, and sports." Roy rolls his eyes, though he really shouldn't. He holds a great deal of respect for the prize Ed's set his tunnel vision on, but fire for fire, sarcasm for sarcasm. Roy can't turn down the bite of a fight any more than Ed.
"You must not think much of me if you really think that then. I'm not a boy, I grew up a long time ago. I had to. I never have time to think about girls and school. I made a mistake a long time ago, one that changed my whole life, and more importantly, changed Al's life. I don't have a mom or a dad, Al's all I have left. So of course I'm going to devote my life to making that better. Alchemy happens to be the way to do it, so of course I'm going to have an interest in it. But I'm still human just like everyone else. I still have other interests. They just aren't my top priority...they can't be right now."
"I may not know you outside the office Fullmetal, and it's not my business, but have you ever considered that you deserve a little happiness? Don't you think you deserve more?"
i...Because I do./i
Ed's staring down at his knees, visibly shaking. Roy doesn't know whether it's frustration or pain. His own heart's clenched into a knot, his emotions working faster than he can deny them.
"Yes Edward...you made a mistake. And I won't lie, it was a big one. But it was still just a mistake, you can still fix it. And because of that, mistakes are forgivable..."
This sudden gentle, quiet talk has clearly gotten Edward Talking like men to men, friends to friends, seems to be too cruel a thing to force upon us. Take another shot of whiskey and answer my question Fullmetal, you're procrastinating," Roy drawls out, a longing gaze rolling down to the flask in Ed's hand, the cap still open. He's pretty sure he's forgotten what the question originally was, but he wants to keep Ed talking. The boy has a real issue with silence that, more times than not, will send him heading for the hills and it's in Roy's best interest to keep him here. No awkward silences. Relish this moment and thank Maes's grave for it later, no matter how morbid it is.
Another shot of whiskey is thrown back, but instead of answering the question, he just sets the flask down, gets up, and walks with a purposeful stride to the door. Roy watches calmly as the silver knob is twisted and jerked. Ed could easily unlock the door, or make a new one and be gone. But it's the principle of it, and they both know it. The tiny alchemist curses and turns back to Roy with a glare in his defefence.
All Roy can offer is a half-hearted smirk in return.
Ed thumbs at a spot on the knee of his pants and gives a rare display of doing as he's told without complaint or question, though he's still planted with resolve against the door, leaning heavily onto it. "It's not like I really care about what you and Hughes did or didn't do. I don't really even wanna know the details. It's gross to think about."
"But?"
"Don't rush me, dammit! But...that was supposed to be a secret wasn't it? So why would you be so honest? It's not the whiskey talking Colonel, I know that. You're not drunk. And on top of that, I thought it was polite to ask. Ya know, losing someone and all." Slowly Ed makes his way back to the couch and sits next to the Colonel, though his arms still cross stubbornly at his chest and he clutches at the flask of whiskey again like he's forgotten it's there.
It's a turning point where the tension draws tight and in the grasp of held breathes and bated tempers, Roy finally realizes he isn't certain who has who. He would like to be telling himself he's confining Edward here to his questions and presence because the boy might need it. But really...he feels like the one grasping at straws, unable to stand the quiet of his cozy office.
What a damn hypocrite.
Roy stays quiet a moment, and neither of them look at each other. "Yes, Fullmetal, it was a secret, as was the flask in your hand. I suppose it was polite of you to ask. It was Maes's flask. His whiskey too." As if that answers anything. Roy gently pulls the flask from Ed's grip and takes a generous sip, tasting long lost childhood summers and guilt on the rim of the metal container. He turns sideways, leaning in so close to Ed that the jumpy blonde tilts back, brows furrowing into a glare. "What about your secrets, Fullmetal?"
Ed scoffs, teeth clenched. "Equivalent trade, right?"
"Precisely."
"Fuck you, Colonel. I don't have to tell you shit. My secrets are my own business, something you can't seem to grasp the way you parade me around sometimes."
But it seems like Edward might actually answer anyway, so Roy just waits.
The moment's a long quiet one where Roy takes the time to notice the smell of whiskey on Ed's breath and Ed takes the time to notice the flecks of dust in the air, caught sparkling by the sunlight.
Still silent the boy pulls a pocket watch from its home nestled at his hip and unclips it. Roy opens a palm where the treasure is deposited, still warm.
Roy flips it open and stares at the ticking hands and the note etched into the metal lid.
"The day you sold your soul to the devil. No secret to me. However, I'm surprised it's not your mother's death date written there. Do you really hold that event over the death of your dear mother?"
It was a painful jibe, and Roy winces two seconds too late. That was pushing it too far, even for him. Was he so desperate? He can tell things are about to explode, and it won't be a second door in his wall. Roy's muscles clench and he waits, lips drawn tight across his teeth. He'd brought this flurry upon himself, intentional or not.
A breath catches in Ed's throat and the growl that follows suit is cut off as Roy snaps the watch shut again and hands it back over to the blonde who snatches it away in irritation.
A crude punch is delivered across Roy's cheek, auto-mail connecting with flesh in a sickening crunch that leaves Roy with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He can only blink in shock, even though he expected as much. As Ed pulls back from the punch Roy's eyes narrow to slits and he scowls back, fingers twitching with a hiss of smoke, tongue curling out to swipe the blood away from the split lip. It had been a long day, and deserving or not, pain had a way of striking tempers. Somehow, on an afterthought, Roy suspects that it had nothing to do with the playful jibe and everything to do with something Edward will never confide in him. Either way, he probably deserved it.
"You have no fucking right to say that you bastard! You don't know what it's like to lose someone! You don't know what it's like to be a child, and be alone, to lose your brother, you're mom! You don't know guilt—I had no other choice. Do you iget/i that?! I hate this life. I don't give a shit about the military. I don't give a shit about this place, or the people in it. Including you! My life is put on hold until I make it right for Al. Entering the military was the turning point in that. It's when I gave up on my own life. I'm too fucking stubborn to die, and too damn tired to keep going. The only thing pushing me is Al. I want him back! Then, only then can I rest. And this...this shithole...this life here in the military...that's how far I am willing to go to succeed! Dealing with assholes like you shows my determination for making things right!" Edward breaks with the need for breath, panting from the outburst. His skin's rouged, pupils dilated. Roy watches him gulp breaths, tongue licking spit from his lips. The alchemist is nearly trembling and for once, the Colonel feels a hot pang of regret for the sour words he tends to spout. What usually comes out as playful banter, scratches like nails to a sensitive wound.
The fist rises again in warning and Roy barely catches it in his grip, threatening spark with flame as Ed crawls on top of him to straddle his lap, most likely intent on beating the words into him. Roy stares up into those gold eyes and catches a feral flare born of unstable emotions. Ed doesn't even know what he's talking about anymore. The sentences are broken and nonsensical to the subject, but they obviously needed to be said. So Roy leaves it alone, and listens for a moment to the ranting boy-man. He knows how dangerous Edward is in this state, a wild animal strung out on instinct. And he knows if he cared any less about the tiny alchemist, he would be scared into just walking away from all this mess in his lap. But dammit does he ever care about the boy. What a dangerous treachery he makes of love.
Eventually he forces the fist down, left hand sending a reality awakening slap across Ed's cheek. It had been long enough. "Calm yourself, Fullmetall," Roy say calmly, a subtle force behind the tone. Ed looks sour, but the slap hit home, and he calms, sagging in Roy's lap. Like a man with a wild animal in his grasp, Roy takes the precaution of remaining as still as possible so as not to startle the poor creature. "I do know what it's like to lose someone important. I lost Hughes...do you think he was just a piece of pretty flesh I used to ease my stress on?" Roy asks, voice raising to a bitter bite as Ed climbs off him and sits back on the couch. He doesn't say what he wants to: That the reason he is the way he is with Ed is ibecause/i of all that. It's to keep him focused on his goal, to keep the world shut out and his mind on business. He wants the life of an adult to accomplish his task, and Roy gives it to him on a dirty platter fit for dogs.
The feel of all the power Ed possesses, that warm body full of strength to the tips of cold steel fingers, the hush of warm breath on his face, does too much to Roy. It spurs a deep and primal yearning, a need to possess that tiny creature with everything he has. To love him and wrap him up in gauze and hide him away from the pain of the world. It draws a hitched breath, muscles tightening to keep down the force of adoration, slick and hot with lust. At least at the moment, at least right now when tension is too high.
But then Ed speaks and it's back to reality, the force of it slamming him home in just one voice.
"I wouldn't be surprised, not with you Colonel."
"What about Ishbal? Do you think I walked away from killing so many innocent people with a smile on my face? Do you honestly think I enjoy my job? That I like being the asshole?!"
Ed's backed up now, and he stares with that same look of interest. Somehow Roy has managed to get those gold eyes to transcend their usual apathy to show a sun yellow flicker of concern in his direction. Or perhaps he's nothing more than a bug that's caught Ed's eye. The ant that suddenly holds interest and is put under the spotlight of a magnifying glass. Either way, he didn't really mean to let that slip out. Ishbal is a touchy subject.
"Colonel..."
Roy looks mildly surprised with himself, backs away so he can no longer smell the whiskey on Ed's breath or the sweat gathered under leather and cloth. There's too many memories in that scent, and none of them involve the tiny alchemist.
A truth for a truth.
Perhaps they had both surprised themselves. Roy certainly didn't expect to react so harshly. A silence falls that feels horribly tense in a way that makes his skin crawl. Except there's something as charged as electricity beneath the surface. Like the light of an array, it's bright and crackling. Roy feels it, and he knows Edward does too. He can see it in the moist part of his lips and shine of white teeth. He can see it in his eyes too, a look that's a little strung out, nearly panicked because if Roy didn't know better, he'd say there's a rich undertone of sex that has Ed so tense. The air reeks of the need to break wills and bodies, and be rid of this tension, be rid of this wayward emotion just once. The energy hangs, barely gripping to the ticking seconds, and Roy knows he'll break first. There's no competition with Edward's determination.
So with that in mind, Roy finally takes charge and lets the tension break, sighing loudly. "Please leave my office Edward. I have to be somewhere in the next half hour." That was more explanation than was needed, but Roy still wouldn't admit he's off guard, even if asked. And, it's just an excuse, because if Ed stays, he's going to be biting off more than he can chew again, and Roy will be the cause of it all. He'd be a fool if he didn't admit that in all his grief, he wasn't aching for a little touch. Beneath the surface of Colonel Roy Mustang, all cool and calm and as distant as the moon, there's still a human. A human who has a boner for his subordinate that he's pretty sure he could fall in love with, and not at all sure that's what Ed needs...or wants.
Edward gets up, stalks with heavy footfalls at the door and looks back, pouted lip sucked in and bitten by those white teeth. "Are you going to send me away on another mission?"
"No Fullmetal, not right now. Maybe not for a little while."
I might need you...
But he doesn't say that. How could he? He stares at the floor and listens to Edward leave, slamming the door behind him. The windows rattle and through the fog of loss, Roy's certain he should have kissed him before he left. He might never get another chance.
Maybe it would ease the tension, but the spark would still be flared. He's not sure as of yet how to get rid of that, and the one person he would call for advice would be white noise on the empty end of another phone.
Why was life so ironic?