A little bit of drabble for you. ;-D Roy/Ed, sap, AT.
Unbeknownst
Edward doesn't like to wait; which is really no surprise to anyone. At the office they are all used to it by now, watching Edward fidget, turn, shift, open books, count floorboards and mutter aloud--desperately trying to find something, anything to entertain himself with. That boy has not one ounce of patience in his body; perhaps it is a childish feature, perhaps it is just a part of who Edward is and will always be.
It's Friday afternoon. While everyone in the office know who Edward is waiting for and why, no one will comment. It's none of their business and it's probably safer if it's not mentioned in words, anyway. Implied hints are superfluous.
Edward shifts again, putting his feet up on the sofa, letting them bounce slightly as a result of overflowing energy. It is a wonder the cushions aren't threadbare by now. Hawkeye considers telling him to remove his boots, some people might want to sit in that sofa without getting dirty, but looking at the boy's utterly frustrated face tells her it would be useless. She wonders how Edward is ever able to spend hours and hours looking through dusty books for even the slightest of hints to help him in his and Alphonse's new, mostly-for-fun research.
The door to Mustang's office opens. Edward calms and looks up. Mustang steps out and doesn't seem surprised to see Edward there. He walks over to the grab his coat and announces to the room in large, "I will be leaving early today."
Breda snorts. Hawkeye doesn't even look up, ignoring this happening completely for the sake of being able to say, she doesn't know this is going on and therefore, cannot report this to their superiors. Because this is most probably against the rules, whoever made them.
Edward stands up with a grumbled, "Finally," and just barely touches Mustang's arm as they make their way outside. If the people still left in the office listen very closely they will hear the continuation, something like, "You'll be paying for dinner this time."
But they didn't hear that. And if asked, no one knows about the dates, or of the bundle of impatience that every Friday afternoon invades their office. It's just better that way.
end