Chapter 8:
Roy had come home just after four in the afternoon, about half an hour earlier than normal because somehow he had finished up early (he suspected his subordinates had a little something to do with this), and decided to go check on Edward. The sight that met him was one for the record books; he had never heard such…sorrow in someone's tears. He immediately rushed forward to grab the youth; he was trembling, no, shaking violently in his overflow of grief. Roy wrapped his arms around him and held on tight, occasionally whispering in his ear that it was okay, he was going to be alright, to just let it out, let it all out.
Soon the blonde turned to clutch at Roy, clinging to him for dear life, his tears soaking through the bright blue uniform until it was drenched. Eventually, the tears began to slow, and the shaking began to subside. Edward raised his splotchy, tear-soaked face up and looked at Roy, who was looking at him carefully, probably watching to see if another flood was about to break through. Edward's tears, for today at least, were done, however. Slowly, so slowly, Roy raised his hand to wipe away the tears still residing on Edward's cheeks. At the first stroke, Edward's eyes closed in something close to bliss, and he leaned into the contact. It had been so long since he had had any semblance of human touch, especially since Alphonse had died. Edward's fingers clutched even tighter at Roy, who wrapped his arms around the clingy youth. After a moment, Roy took a chance and whispered against Edward's ear, "You don't have to be alone anymore…I know I can't replace him, but at least let me be here for you."
Edward relaxed his fingers marginally and, looking up at Roy through dark lashes, leaned up hesitantly to lay a very soft kiss on his lips. Mustang, thoroughly surprised, didn't respond at first, but quickly recovered and began to press gently against the warm lips. The exchange became more heated, and when they broke apart for a moment, Roy murmured against Edward's lips, "Edward…"
The blonde stiffened, the tone of Roy's voice bringing him up cold. All at once he wasn't in Roy Mustang's arms, he was in Alphonse Elric's, warm in their bed as children. Al would quite frequently crawl into bed with his brother, and murmur his thanks in that same comfortable breathy quality. The harsh reminder that his brother was dead and it was all Edward's fault quickly squashed that memory.
His face went blank with startling speed, and he slumped backwards in Mustang's arms. Roy, uneasy with the turn of events, asked quietly, "Edward? Edward, are you alright?" When he received no response, he sighed with frustration at his inability to help his ward and picked him up and laid him in the bed. After Edward slipped back to sleep, Roy left the room and called Hawkeye, asking her to come over.
His loyal First Lieutenant arrived with her usual promptness, and Mustang ushered her into the living room where he poured them both a glass of bourbon on the rocks. She accepted the glass absentmindedly, concerned about this impromptu visit. Roy sat down beside her and conveyed to her the events of that afternoon. Riza listened patiently, her eyes widening only slightly when he got to the part of them kissing. After Roy was finished, he emptied his glass and got up to refill it while Hawkeye processed the tale she had just been told. She took a small sip of her drink before placing it on the coffee table in front of her. She had mentally begun to count the times he had called her to ask for her input on a particular situation. The man would never have made it to the position he was in now if it weren't for her and her calming effect on him. They never had to worry about losing that, she knew Roy preferred men, and while she enjoyed men, she also had a taste for women. The romance factor that may have arisen anyway never came up, their friendship was far too strong for that. So when he asked for her help like this, she felt flattered that he called her and no one else.
"Roy, I think that perhaps taking it slow is the best thing. Let him warm back up to you. From what you told me, it sounds as though you hit a sensitive nerve when you called his name. It also sounds like you touched a part of him that has been lost these past seven months. Try to recapture that." She finished, calmly taking another sip of her drink.
The raven-haired colonel stared into his amber beverage, tipping the glass to hear the ice tinkling against its barrier. A half smirk drew across his face, cockiness overlying his anxiety. Looking up, he stated slowly, "So…it's a challenge, is it? Tact and a gentle balance of pushing forward but not too forward too fast. Yeah…I think I'm up for that."
Riza smiled in spite of herself, but her countenance drew stern again as she responded, "Be glib if you need to be, but remember, this is not a game. This is his life, his sanity, and you need to be mindful of that."
Roy looked gravely into Hawkeye's wine-coloured eyes and said, "Trust me, Lieutenant, I want this badly, and I have no intention of treating it blithely. I will help him, regardless of my feelings for him."