A/N: I survived the hurricane! Rejoice! Hope this also short chapter finds everyone well. We're all pretty occupied cleaning up after the wind and stormsurge. 3
Monday found Dr. Mustang seated at his desk with a grimace, attempting to choke down a mug of coffee. However his insides, twisted with anxiety, were very much against the idea. With a resigned sigh he released his shaky grip on the mug and pick up a proposal he'd been putting off since last week. It was now so past due that Riza had pointedly left open his office door and was shooting him sharp looks every half hour or so. He'd made sure to never put off work past this phase. He was terrified of what she might do. He made a valiant effort to actually read the item before him, but the words seemed to never make it to his brain. All weekend he had been mulling over his unorthodox visit to and prompt ejection from the Elric household. Part of him wanted to be mortified; both that he had gotten that drunk and so blatantly violated Edward's privacy, but the scientist in him swelled with intense curiosity. Those prostheses, what the hell were they? Why did he have them? All progress ceased when he began to envision Edward as a cyborg. He could easily picture the young man kicking through his wall with a steel foot and then reducing him to dust with his laser eyes. A loud clunk actually caused him to jump, shaking him from his fantasy. Regaining his composure and looking up, he found himself looking into Riza's very close, sherry colored eyes. She offered him a very small, very brief smile and slid a new mug across his desk.
"An herbal tea, sir," she clipped. When he looked up the smile was gone. "I thought it would settle your stomach and give you the energy to finish your reviews."
"Thank you, Ms. Hawkeye," he hesitated, watching her stride back to her own desk. She looked his way one more time before returning to her own work. Roy sipped the hot drink warily, but was surprised to find it pleasantly mild without the stomach churning effects of the coffee. Whether it was the soothing properties of the drink, or the startling act of kindness from his secretary, Roy was able to briefly forget the Elric's and focus on the task at hand.
Dr. Mustang was fortunate that as director, he actually rarely had to visit the labs unless inspired to by his own curiosity. Normally, on a new hire's first day, he would make an appearance and personally welcome them, maybe even offer a tour of the wider facilities. Upon recalling the elder Elric's red, enraged face, he decided that it would be better to give the young man some space. He began to itch with boredom and impatience almost immediately, wanting something else to do now that he had slogged through all the critically late files. Kicking his chair back from the desk he paced the office a few times, earning questioning looks from the blonde at her desk. Next, he began absently polishing the knickknacks adorning his shelves before moving on to make sure that his book collection was organized by subject, then author.
He turned to his desk, shifting the photos and various other ornaments idly, before flipping open his planner. Aside from a progress report and a conference call with the Director of Clinical studies later in the day, his afternoon was surprisingly free. Absentmindedly he chewed his lip in thought, thumbing the open page of the planner. With a sigh, he reached across the desk for his phone, hastily punching in a number.
"Hello, Maes?" He asked cautiously, preemptively jerking the phone away from his ear in time for Hughe's gleeful shout that made even Riza look up with curiosity.
"Roy, you're alive!" His friend laughed, making the other man grumble.
"Yeah, no thanks to you. You free for lunch?"
"Oh no, what'd you do? You killed that new kid didn't you?" Roy didn't bother dignifying that question.
"Meet me at the park. We'll go for a walk and get something from one of the carts," he clipped quickly.
"Sounds romantic, I'll see you in a bit."
Hughes stared at his dark-haired companion with a deathly serious expression as Roy attempted to find a dignified way to eat a gyro without spilling half of it down his suit.
"So your prodigy scientist guy is some sort of cyborg?" He finally choked out, not even having touched his own meal since Roy told him the story of his awkward visit to the Elric household. Roy snorted laughter through a mouthful of food. "You sure he's not gonna go all replicant on us now that you've discovered his secret?" Hughes continued, now tugging at the thin thatch of beard on his chin.
"I don't know what it was," Roy gasped after swallowing hard. "But I remember noticing that hand was cold when I shook it." Hughes nodded sagely as Roy took another bite.
"I'll see what I can find out," he said with a slight grin while Roy flustered and hurried once more to swallow his bite of food.
"Maes, I invited you to lunch to talk, not to hire you to stalk the kid," he rushed, a bit frightened by the sinister smile working across his friends face. "I mean, have you ever heard of a prosthetic that convincing? I've never seen one move so fluidly." Roy had left out the detail of the ends of the limbs where the synthetic skin was stretched like rubber to implanted clasps, as well as the frightening strength they showed when he was easily lifted from the ground. Maes was frowning again, eyes skyward as he fiddled.
"The main thing I don't understand is what possessed you to go and peek on him while he was getting dressed," his friend smirked.
"That is not what happened and you know it!" Roy balked.
"Whatever you say, Roy," Maes placated, finally biting into his sandwich. "It's not like there's a legal age for cyborgs or anything," he muttered around his food. Roy sighed heavily, regretting ever telling his friend anything.
Though he'd never admit it, talking to Maes had soothed some of Roy's worries about interacting with his new employee. After all, as the PR director pointed out, the fact that he didn't start his day with the blonde's fist in his face was a good sign. Also, it turned out to his surprise the man had made a point to stop by the lab to see how Edward's day was going. What Maes had to say pointed towards the young man being a rather capable, if not awkward, leader. Aside from some ruffled feathers due to the blonde's surly personality, the day had passed without much incident. Perhaps it was his thoughts about the young man that caused Roy to pass by his new lab on the way back to his office, but he couldn't resist peeking through the small glass window. Roy's meeting with his confidant had been fairly harried, and despite walking to the park and back he still had several minutes to spare. Inside, he found the young man still at work, several fully occupied whiteboards pushed to the side, and the one he was working on nearly full. Not a single other employee was in sight. Frowning, and without thinking he opened the door and stepped inside.
"Despite what some may have told you, new employees are allowed to take lunch breaks," crooned with an air of casualness that he certainly didn't feel. Inside his head, little "you are going to be sued for sexual harassment" alarms were going off in his head. Edward's back immediately went ramrod straight and all work stopped before he turned slowly. Between the snarl and piercing, narrowed eyes, Roy suddenly felt he had an idea what it was like to be prey.
"What's it to you?" He spit, coming uncrouched from writing.
"It would look very bad if my star scientist were to faint from hunger on his first day. People will say I'm a slavedriver, or maybe that I'm violating child labor laws" he replied with the slightest laugh. The air between them was tense and heavy, but so far he was still alive. Suddenly though, a hand he knew wasn't a hand was lunging towards him and he shut his eyes in anticipation of impact. But, it never came. A loud crinkle to his right made him open his eyes was more and he saw Edward was gripping a brown lunch sack in a death grip. Roy almost laughed again in relief and amusement.
"Go fuck yourself," the blonde hissed, stalking past and being sure to give him a bruising brush with his shoulder. The director was left smirking at the rumpled blonde as he stomped his way out of the lab, then turned his dark eyes to the filled whiteboard and frowned slightly. Wrinkles, which if asked he would adamantly deny existed, creased his forehead as he puzzled over its contents. Several of the diagrams bordered on familiar, but the scribbled labels were indecipherable. Squinting at them, he realized they were written in a language he had seen only once before, scratched into the margins of the journals of the research texts that littered the young man's coffee table. He sighed wearily, raking a well manicured hand through his equally well manicured bangs. Clearly he was going to have to have a talk with the good doctor about the intellectual property policy of the company. He could not see this going especially well.