Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.
This is the chapter that got the M rating for safety's sake; non-explicit slash.
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The alchemists began trailing back to the camp a few hours before sunrise. A layer of dust from the fires and the collapsed buildings hung over the area and made it harder to distinguish between allies and enemies, and anyway the Ishvarites were all dead. Roy came into the tent shedding clothing: gloves, jacket, boots. His roommate was already curled on his own cot, facing the canvas wall. Roy couldn't bring himself to speak to him.
An hour later, when the man began sobbing helplessly, he wondered if it would have helped. He was shaking so badly that it resembled a seizure; Roy lugged him to the medical tent and hoped that this feeling of mindless autopilot existence wouldn't wear off soon.
He met Kimberly along the way, strolling toward his own tent with a faint smile. Maybe he couldn't sleep, either, but Roy thought it more likely that he had just come back from the slaughter. Kimberly snorted at the sight of the man Roy was practically carrying, but turned and began following him.
"You could help," Roy said harshly.
"I can take some of the weight away," Kimberly offered.
Roy didn't say any more.
There were a lot of people in the medical tent, most of them injured soldiers from earlier days, too many of them alchemists looking for sedatives to make it to the morning. The doctors were keeping a strict eye on the amount being taken.
Roy left his roommate in Armstrong's company and made his way back to the tent wearily. Kimberly was still following behind him; at some point he'd started humming a tuneless little song under his breath.
When he arrived, Roy hesitated, holding the flap open for several seconds longer than was necessary. Kimberly stopped humming.
Roy let the flap fall behind him. When Kimberly entered a second later, he was already unbuttoning his shirt.
"I'm taking advantage of you," Kimberly said later, once they'd gotten on the cot, as he shoved off his pants. Roy's stomach twisted at the almost gleeful tone in his voice.
"You've killed people before today, Flame," he added, bracing an arm beside Roy's head and staring down at him, eyes bright. The red stone necklace hung between them. "Is it the quantity that's making you a masochist?"
"Shut up," Roy hissed, wishing that Kimberly would stop smiling faintly like this was the best day of his life, and wrapped a hand around his cock.
Kimberly was quiet-- relatively--after that, but he didn't stop smiling. Roy could feel it against his skin even after he squeezed his eyes shut.
Afterward, Kimberly tossed the stone over his shoulder, out of the way, and studied him. Roy stared at the opposite wall, trying to fall asleep before he could start thinking again.
When the muscles his legs began to ache, he knocked his heel against Kimberly's ankle. Kimberly shifted over as much as the cot allowed.
"Some of them escaped," he said, yawning. "We've got clean up duty tomorrow."
The smile was still there; Roy could see it from the corner of his eyes. He closed them.
"You're sick," he muttered.
"Honest," Kimberly corrected, pushing away.