That awkward moment when you forget what you were going to put in the author notes.
*"gracefully" eats packet of noodles*
That's right! Merry Christmas guys! (Or just merry day if you don't celebrate that. XD) It's so hot recently… I guess that's why I've been looking forward to writing the north.
And I don't know if I've said it, but one of the most fun things about this story is getting to make up interesting chapter titles. :3
Here you go! There's some angst and fluff that I hope isn't bad, so… Well, tell me what you think! X3
Roy's hands tingled with unease as he walked up to the receptionist's desk. The silver watch ticking gently against his chest read nine forty-five and his hands were sweating underneath his patterned gloves.
"This is Colonel Roy Mustang," he said, feeling his confidence lift a little at the sound of his calm voice. "Requesting an audience with Fuhrer Bradley."
"Certainly, Colonel," the receptionist said. "He's just concluded a meeting, so wait here whilst I alert him of your request."
Roy nodded and walked a short distance away to take a seat. The room felt stifling and dangerous, though the only others there were two guards at the door to the Fuhrer's temporary office.
He rubbed his gloves together, feeling the hyper-reactive cloth generating slight heat with the contact. His nerves set him in a battle-like mind set, prompting involuntary sparks of reaction into flashing around his hands. He moved them apart before he risked accidentally setting something alight.
Why was he so nervous? It wasn't like him. Normally confronting the Fuhrer was nothing out of the ordinary, but today… No, the last couple of weeks, everything seemed to faze him. Both risky tasks like fighting in a head-on sparring match and the startle of someone sneezing set his mind and pulse racing.
He rubbed a hot hand through his hair. What's wrong with me now?
"Colonel Mustang?" The receptionist's voice broke into his thoughts and he rose. He breathed deeply as he walked towards Bradley's office, serving to calm his jumpy nerves a bit.
"Mustang," the Fuhrer greeted as the door closed behind the man. "It's good to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Roy snapped his arm into a tight salute and glanced from the older man's face to the other occupants of the room. As if it was all part of fate's twisted plan for him, the three generals of the competition stared back at Roy. Generals Rothford, Schuyler and Kamagawa would play witness to anything Roy said or did here.
"It's a matter concerning the competition," Roy started carefully, standing at ease with the Fuhrer's nod. "Regarding myself and my teammate, the Fullmetal Alchemist."
"I trust it isn't anything that can't be said before these three men?" Bradley continued. "I've just been having a talk with them about the defensive strategies implemented in each of their domains, and we were just wrapping up when I received notice of your arrival."
Roy's eyes narrowed by the most minute of fractions. If he had the nerve to ask for a private conference with the Fuhrer now, he would almost certainly arouse the suspicions of the other men. He didn't need that any more than already, especially not with Theodore Schuyler. He quickly decided that making his request in private was not worth the suspicious eyes on his back.
Just as he was about to answer, General Rothford's eyes narrowed in on his fists. "Colonel Mustang, are those gloves not the custom fashioned from reactive cloth that you require for your Flame Alchemy? Might I enquire as to why you have them on?"
Roy froze. In his nervousness, he'd forgotten to remove them.
"I was thinking along the same lines," Theodore added. "Walking into this room wearing them is the alchemical equivalent of walking in here with a loaded gun, is it not?"
Roy's heart pounded as he was fixed with accusing stares. His ever-faithful mind cracked into action like a horse from the starting stall and he said, "If that's the case, then your son is walking through the base with a loose cannon on his left palm, sir."
Theodore glowered.
"It is true that my gloves are indeed my weapons, so in the same way the usual soldier would instinctively strap his pistol to his waist, I wear these." Roy raised his hands and began tugging the fabric from the ends of his fingers. "If there's one lesson that has ever been drilled into me, it's preparation and planning. I reflexively wore the gloves as part of my uniform. Apologies."
"No harm done, Colonel," Bradley said with a smile and a wave. "Now, about this matter you are here to discuss… Shall I dismiss the good generals here?"
"Only if they wish to be," said Roy, disappointed but not surprised when none of the generals made a move.
His grip on his own hand tightened as he met the gaze of Bradley's lone eye and continued, "I am only here to make a simple request; that the time spent in East City be extended until Friday. If this is too much for someone in my position to ask, then I would like to have this apply only to myself and Fullmetal."
Bradley sipped at his tea pensively as the three generals looked at Roy, one expression curious, another frowning and the last looking somehow insulted.
"What is the reason for this request?" the Fuhrer asked, sounding the slightest bit puzzled.
Dammit, how did I forget to say why? Roy blinked, a calm movement that completely contradicted the feelings racing below the surface. "Right, apologies. It seems that my young teammate has fallen quite ill. He is in no way fit to make the journey from here to North City. So, if you should allow us even just a day to let him recover—"
"What's this?" Reece broke in. "Are you telling me you want to put the whole competition on hold because your boy caught a cold?"
Anything sounds dumb when you say it in that tone, thought Roy in annoyance. No, make that, 'anything sounds dumb when you say it'.
He dropped his hands at his sides. "Essentially. If it's alright with Fuhrer Bradley."
Theodore snorted. "Pathetic. This is why the State doesn't need any more kids like him holding us back."
Roy shifted his weight. "How old is your son again, General?" he asked quietly, a quick flash of irritation heating his chest.
Theodore sneered. "Such insolence! Remember your place, Colonel!"
"It seems like a reasonable request to me," Umaro said, though mostly to himself. This may or may not have been due to the fact that the other two generals were completely ignoring him.
Bradley watched the group's minor squabble with an amused glimmer in his eye.
"My sincere apologies," said Roy. "But I am not comfortable forcing the boy to travel in his condition."
"Typical," Reece muttered.
"Just like the East to get all worked up about a little cold," sneered Theodore.
Roy's temper flared and he forced himself to remain standing by the door. "With all due respect, this is worse than a simple head cold. Edward Elric is in a good deal of pain back in our dormitory. I would very much like to return to his side and give him the medical assistance required, but I cannot do so without the peace of mind gained by knowing he will not have to suffer through a long train journey later today in his condition."
Theodore continued to glare, where Umaro seemed interested and Reece had shifted his eyes to the Fuhrer.
"Edward is still a child," Roy reminded them. "He is obviously going to face the same challenges of anyone else his age, plus more cause by his State employment. One such challenge is that his immunity is not quite as strong as that of an adult, so he is going to have to call in sick at some point. All I ask is that he is given time to recover in a still bed on base whilst his vulnerability is played out."
He looked at Bradley, fixing him with a calmly determined expression. "Will you grant my request?"
"I would be more than happy to oblige, Colonel," the Fuhrer answered with a chuckle. "Youth is both a gift and a curse; I've seen how bad my own boy Selim can get, so I sympathise with young Fullmetal's predicament." He rose to his feet and walked to his desk to open a drawer. "The journey will be postponed by two days, one if the young man recovers any faster."
Roy found Theodore's reaction somewhat amusing. The dark glare he received looked a little bit like victory.
The Fuhrer smiled beneath his moustache as he pulled a round, netted melon out of his desk, walked to the door and presented it to Roy. "Tell our small statured alchemic prodigy I'll be vouching for his return to full health!"
Roy stewed on the melon.
"I mean, his desk drawer," the man muttered. "He had a melon stored in his desk drawer. Did he just foresee this or what? Where does he even get melons from?"
He sat with his fingers interlaced at the small kitchen table in the dorm, the offending melon sitting just in front of him. He glared at the patterned green skin, eyes as narrow as slits.
"Stupid melon."
Edward had fallen asleep by the time he'd arrived and Roy had decided it would be best to wait for him to wake up in his own time to let him know the plan. He figured it wouldn't be long – Edward's fever meant he slept fitfully, so all he needed to do was wait
– in the agonising silence –
until Edward arose and he could give him the news before fetching some medicine.
Edward made a pitiful noise from the other room and Roy felt his chest tightening with helpless rage. There was nothing much he could do in the situation. Edward wasn't sick enough to send to the hospital but not well enough to set Roy's mind at ease. The man didn't have much experience with medicine either.
And boy did he hate waiting. Each second was another opportunity for him to wonder of he was doing the right thing, if he should wake Ed, or find Al, or call a doctor or leave to find medicine or even just chop up the stupid melon. Anything to stop feeling so useless.
So one could imagine his relief upon hearing the quiet shuffling from within the bedroom.
"Roy?" The enquiry was quiet and husky, but it set Roy's mind at ease. Well, a little.
"The Fuhrer sends his regards," the man said. He pointed. "And this melon."
Edward frowned. "Okay."
"I scored you some recovery time, although I sense the Central and Southern teams aren't very pleased with me for it," explained Roy. "You've got until Friday to be back on your feet."
"You shouldn't have done that," snapped Edward. "I would have bee—"
Roy almost jumped out of his seat as Edward began to cough uncontrollably. He steered the boy towards a seat and settled him down with another glass of water.
After the boy had regained the ability to breathe, he stared at the ground whilst clutching his glass tightly. His auto-mail scratched against the surface.
"I need to get you some medicine," mumbled Roy.
"No, you don't." Edward growled softly. "I don't do medicine."
"And I don't do leaving my subordinates to suffer these kinds of things without help," replied Roy with only a hint of edge. His voice softened as he added, "I don't do leaving family to suffer these things without help."
"But I'm not your family," mumbled Edward. My family is Alphonse. My family was mom. And you're not them.
"You're damn well close enough," said Roy affirmatively. "You know that."
Edward didn't reply, prompting Roy into casting a glance at him. His eyebrows twisted into something resembling worry.
"You know that…right?"
Edward held his eyes, a conflicted look on his exhausted face. "I—"
There was a knock on the door and Roy looked up, his face unsettlingly empty. "I'll get that."
He pulled the door open to a couple of welcome distractions.
"Yo." Tyrell shrugged a satchel a little higher on his back and Alphonse raised a hand behind him. "We're here about the metal-head."
"Lemme guess," Roy leant on the doorframe. "Your healing intuition alerted you of the situation?"
"Don't be daft, man!" Tyrell feigned offense. "I heard Southern Pain-in-the-Butt the Second complaining about having to spend another day in 'the eastern dirt bowl'."
"Good, good," said Roy distantly, swinging open the door fully and frowning as the words sunk in.
As the two walked in, the man gazed over at Edward. The boy looked worn-out and downright miserable – an expression that Roy hated seeing on him. I thought we had this worked out, Ed, he thought confusedly. Don't tell me I need to adjust again. Don't tell me…
Tyrell set to work immediately, making cheerful yet gentle small-talk with the sick teen as he checked him over. Alphonse wrung his hands and put in the occasional comment, brushing his brother's hands – probably more for his own comfort than Edward's.
Don't tell me you don't want me here after all.
Roy sat down at his desk, making a rather spiritless attempt at reading the books Hawkeye had dropped off. The words of the book scrambled with his thoughts, forcing him to re-read the same paragraphs multiple times until it made sense.
"There you go! Bottoms up!" Tyrell's jovial voice broke his concentration, but Roy couldn't care less.
"I told you, I don't do medicine. It hasn't helped anyone I know before and it sure as hell isn't going to help me."
"Really? I think you'll find your logic is a little flawed, Ed. You might be an alchemic prodigy, but I am a certified doctor and I can stand by my methods. Medicine—"
"Medicine didn't help mom now, did it?" Edward burst out, his golden eyes flaring with anger and a tone of grief he'd never quite buried.
Alphonse recoiled like he'd been physically struck, then took a few steps back.
The fire that had burned in Edward's eyes disappeared just as fast as it had arrived, turning his face into a picture of regret. He started shaking like he had hit Alphonse. "Al…" His voice was wavering and childlike, matching the turmoil in his eyes.
"Brother…" The voice from within the armour was small, smaller than anything before. His metal body rattled as his head turned downwards.
"Al…" Edward repeated, shaking his head slowly. "I… I'm sorry… I didn't…"
"You never think about anything you say, big brother!"
With his words reverberating within his hollow body, Alphonse whipped around on his heel and raced out of the dorm. The door slammed behind him.
"Alphonse!" cried Edward, reaching forward much too late.
Tyrell looked shell-shocked, his hands frozen in place and his violet eyes wide. He clenched his fists at his sides as Edward drew his hands back into himself, bowing his head.
"Come back…" he whispered, a cough punctuating his plea. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean it…"
His teeth gritted as he hung his head, blond bangs hanging over his eyes. His auto-mail clattered as he shook. "Al…"
Roy closed his book and set it down, rising to his feet.
"Look after him," he said dully to Tyrell as he passed. "I'll find Alphonse."
Tyrell bit his lip as the colonel left. What had he walked into?
He glanced down at Edward, who was breathing heavy and making sounds that sounded too much like broken sobs.
If being this close to your brother meant that fighting hurt so badly, he was almost glad he didn't even know Livio's favourite colour.
"Medicine didn't help my mother either, you know."
Alphonse jerked upright, startled at the sound of Roy's voice.
The man stepped closer, sitting down next to him with his back pressed against the wall of some dormitory. "But I don't think that was anyone's fault, in particular. Sure, my dad kind of sucked at being a dad, but I don't blame him for it."
"What…are you…?" Alphonse looked down at the man next to him, a fact that he detested.
"I was about six when she started coughing. 'Just a mild sickness', the doctors said. But when it didn't go away, I started seeing less and less of her as they kept the pale and vulnerable kid away from the infected," continued Roy, not explaining himself in the slightest. "Although he tried to support me, father spent all his days with her. So I gradually found myself spending more and more time at my Aunt's place. It was really no wonder my father got sick as well, considering he scarcely left his wife's bedside."
Alphonse sat still and shocked as Roy stretched his aching arms and blinked, acting as if the story barely bothered him. After so many years, he found he didn't really get that upset about his parents.
"Next thing I knew I was at Auntie's house permanently. They told me my parents were gone, and expected some kind of anger, blaming the doctors or myself or Auntie or anyone, but I was an odd child. I was barely mad at all."
Alphonse maintained his stunned silence. The idea that Roy actually had parents had not occurred to him before, let alone the tragic story surrounding them.
The man shrugged. "Sure I cried like I'd never be happy again – what kid wouldn't? – but deep down I lacked the ferocity of true grief. Maybe it was just 'cause I was only a kid. Maybe I was so introverted I just didn't know what to feel. Or maybe I was just really weird. Who knows? I've yet to figure it out. So to this day, I've yet to feel any resentment towards the doctors who failed my mother."
Alphonse turned away, hugging his knees closer.
"In that aspect, Edward is my polar opposite. He blames almost everyone and everything, most of all your father, the doctors and probably himself."
"I don't think Ed blames the doctors for what happened," replied Alphonse hesitantly. "Deep down, he knows he's wrong, but…I think some part of him believes medicine is unnecessary and that you'll only get better on the power of your own will. He still thinks mom's will was broken when dad left, so that's why…"
Roy sat back and let silence reign for a few moments before Alphonse finished, "We have so many bad memories with medicine, so it really isn't any wonder he can't handle it sometimes."
"It's still no excuse to go yelling things like that because of your own stubborn beliefs," replied Roy, rising to his feet. "Are you coming?"
Alphonse nodded once, after what looked like a moment's thought. He bowed his head once more and followed Roy.
"And I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my parents to Ed," the man murmured. "I never told him. And he doesn't really need to know."
Alphonse nodded his quiet agreement as Roy pushed open the dorm's front door and made a beeline for the books on his desk.
Edward was sitting right where he had been when they'd left, Tyrell just behind him. The shaman was fiddling with a roll of bandages in an uncomfortable and obsessive manner.
Edward stood. He wasn't meeting Alphonse's ruby gaze, staring instead at his chest.
"I'm…sorry. I'm sorry." He wrung his wrists, looking away. "I'm really sorry."
Alphonse's armour shuddered. "It's fine. Just… Just get better, okay, brother?"
"Okay." Edward's gaze flicked towards Alphonse, then away again. He clenched his hand around his auto-mail and forced himself to look at his little brother.
The second their eyes met, Edward's composure cracked, then crumbled away and his face became a tangle of emotions in gritted teeth and glistening eyes. "I'm sorry!" he burst out. "I'm always so stupid! Saying crap I don't mean to and…and…" He trailed off.
Alphonse simply stepped forward in silence and wrapped his arms gently around his brother. "It's okay," he whispered. "You've got to be an idiot sometimes, right?"
"You're so cold." Edward shuddered, and Roy could not tell if he was laughing or crying. Maybe both. "You're so cold. You're so cold. So cold…"
And they stayed there, until Alphonse stepped back and gripped Edward's shoulders, forcing him to sit.
"Now take the medicine," he said, strictly but not forcefully. "It might not have been enough to save mom's life, but it's enough to save you a lot of pain."
Edward nodded, his blond hair a shaggy mess as he brushed it back from his red-flushed face. "If you say so." He attempted a weak smile.
Roy paused on one page of his book he'd tried to read five times already and his eyelids found themselves shut. He wasn't tired, he told himself. Just resting his eyes.
"I'm done here," Tyrell said eventually. This sentence caught Roy's attention and he perked up, angry at himself for more or less falling asleep on his chair. Why was he always so tired?
"Shall we go?" the Oratoan prince asked, cocking his head inquisitively at Alphonse. "If you want, you can come to my dorm and I'll keep you company when you read. It's best the less people there are around here, but I'll understand if you don't wanna leave him…"
"Well." Alphonse shifted in conflict as Edward waited to see what his answer would be. "If it's better for bro…"
"Go." Roy turned in his seat, one arm draped across the armrest. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll watch him."
"You might get sick," Alphonse pointed out. "I won't."
"It's not like I have anywhere else to be," said Roy. "Go to the office and I'll get paperwork. Go to base and I'll get pestered by the competition. Home's too far away, if I go to a pub I'll get drop-kicked by Hughes and I don't even know any other places."
Alphonse held his hands behind his back and looked at Roy for some time. He didn't know the colonel as a very talkative man, especially about things like his past and definitely not his parents. But neither did he know him as a man who lay around a dorm and did nothing all day. It had disappeared for a while…but it's back now.
"I'll see to it that Edward gets everything he needs. Go and do your research, Alphonse. He won't sleep if you're here anyway."
Edward scowled unconvincingly.
"If it's not a bother to you, Colonel…" Alphonse still sounded torn.
"Babysitting the kid's part of my job," reasoned Roy, to which Edward's response was mostly silent objection. "And I'm hardier than I look."
"Okay then." Alphonse turned. "Get well soon, brother. Drink lots, and do as Colonel Mustang tells you!"
"I will," replied Edward tiredly. "Stay safe…"
"Yes." Alphonse caught Roy's eye as he left and briefly felt the wish to frown at him, or smile, or just blink…something. Something he couldn't do to silently ask what was wrong. But his armour prevented him and all he could do was nod in thanks.
The two disappeared and Edward sat back in his seat, blinking in a drained and empty manner.
"Ngh." Roy rubbed his eyes, his arms protesting against the movement. He sighed and tried to focus back in on his book.
"I'm sorry to you too, y'know."
Roy glanced over.
"Sorry about what I said. I… I just hate getting sick. I say crap about stuff I don't even know," the boy muttered. "I didn't mean it to come across like I didn't want you, I just…"
Roy turned his body in his chair to look at the boy, opening and closing the book he held with one hand.
Edward gripped his head suddenly, tangling his fingers in the mess of blond. He leant forward with an angry sigh. "Every time I get sick, she's all I think about. All I dream about. All I see when I close my eyes. And now I feel like I'm betraying her. She waited so long for that old jerk to come back, and she… Then I go and find someone else and…I hate this!"
Roy's gaze softened, but not out of pity.
Out of empathy.
He'd felt the same about Auntie Chris at first. How could he have accepted having a new mother? Would his real mother be angry and think he'd betrayed her? Sad? Lonely?
"I don't want to feel like a burden, Ed," Roy said slowly, thinking on his feet. "But I don't know what to say that can help you understand that your mother won't be upset if you find another father in me. You're aware I had a foster mother?"
Edward shook his head. "You mentioned you didn't know your dad or something, but…"
"Well there you go. I had a foster mother." Roy shrugged. "And it took me a while to accept it. It took me a while to see that mother wouldn't want me to exclude those who were trying to help me because I was too busy grieving for her. I hope eventually you'll see that too."
Edward nodded, still feeling guilt hollowing out his chest. "I don't want to sleep," he said with a soft stubbornness.
"How's your head?" asked Roy, looking at his book. In his state, the words were like a foreign language.
"It's feeling a lot better," the boy replied. "Tyrell gave me some medicine for it…but my whole body aches."
"Hm." Roy stood, stretched and limped towards the bathroom. He emerged a second later with a freshly-wrung flannel and grabbed his book, flicking his head towards the couch that sat just behind the table where Edward was.
"I propose an equivalent exchange," said Roy. "If I can help with your pain, will you read this to me?"
Edward blinked. He was puzzled, but the exchange intrigued him. He had no idea what Roy was saying.
After a moment of having no idea what Roy was saying, he shrugged. "Why not?"
He walked over as Roy dropped himself sideways onto the couch and pointed just in front of himself. "Sit there."
Edward, reluctantly and with many embarrassed and suspicious looks in Roy's direction, settled himself on the couch in front of the man's folded legs. He was almost in his lap, clutching the book tightly as Roy slapped the wet cloth on his forehead.
"What are you doing?" asked Edward sharply as the colonel took a nervous breath.
"My mother used to do this whenever I got sick," the colonel explained, sweating a little. "My muscles always hurt, and she taught me how to 'rub it out'. I believe it was some Xingese technique…"
Edward flicked open the book, eyes on Roy.
"Do you mind if…I touch you…" Roy trailed off. He sighed. After all this time, it felt like they were back on square one.
"Just do whatever," answered Edward. He looked back. "I don't know. I'm trusting you on this, so do whatever works."
Roy nodded. "Okay." He paused. "Just to be clear…this is all…still happening, right?"
Edward took a moment to reply. He nodded once. His voice was stuffy. Roy didn't mind. "Yes. It is. It was never not. I say things, but please…" His voice fell. "…you really are like family to me and I don't ever want you to leave, so just…ignore the dumb things I say and…" He looked at his mismatched feet, shifted uncomfortably. "Stay with me."
"I won't leave." He offered a quick smile. "I promise I'll try to be the kind of man your mother would be happy to have help raise her son." He flexed his palms. "Here goes nothing."
Edward nodded. "I'll start reading."
"Close the book right away if it starts to make you feel worse," cautioned Roy. "It's no help to either of us if your headache comes back."
Edward nodded. "I will. Now, 'Chapter One; An Introduction to Post-Trauma…"
Roy placed his palms between Edward's shoulder blades and began circling gently, just as he remembered his mother showing him. Edward's back was tight and muscled, the reason for his strong blows. Roy could feel the edge of his metal arm by his rightmost finger.
He listened to what the boy was reading and kept an eye on his condition as he massaged.
"…can help when coping with…' Hey, that feels a lot better…" Edward relaxed a little. "Thank you."
"No problem," replied Roy, stifling a yawn.
Edward continued to read, his voice quiet and still a little shaky, but a lot more comfortable than it had been previously.
And Roy listened, and smiled, because he knew in his heart that the pain Edward was feeling was the guilt of one of his final walls crumbling away. He now realised how close he'd come to regaining a parental figure, and felt that by having one, he was betraying his mother.
But Roy knew the feeling would vanish as quickly as it had come, because Edward had already let him through every other wall he had.
There was no way or reason for them to turn back now.
And why would they want to? This was an arrangement that made them happy – fight like nobody's business whenever they met because their personalities went together like Hughes and the boys in Elysia's class, yet seek each other's comfort in times of need because they were so similar it hurt.
Their relationship had grown to that of two planks leaning against each other – constantly opposed, but each would be unable to stand strong if the other were to be taken away.
And they didn't mind the strangeness of it at all.
"…can aid you in the process to readjusting to life after the warfront'. That's the end of chapter three. I think that's enough for now, right?"
Roy had finished massaging a while back, leaving Edward a lot more comfortable. His head still felt stuffy and his body was as heavy as lead, but it was nothing compared to what he'd felt that morning. His fever had fallen dramatically, leaving only the flush on his cheeks and a shivering in his hands.
"Roy?" Edward glanced over his shoulder, smiling as the man's drowsing face confirmed what he had been suspecting for at least the last ten minutes.
Edward yawned and stretched, shuffling closer and nestling himself between Roy's side and the back of the couch. He laid his head back on the man's chest and closed his eyes, perfectly comfortable.
The cold of the air inside the dorm chilled his skin, but he figured this was probably a good thing. He curled closer to Roy to ensure the man's warmth and prayed to a god he didn't believe in that no-one would walk in and find them like this.
And then he fell asleep, pressed close to a man whom he both hated for his attitude and personality, and loved for his rough kindness and the qualities he held dear.
When that man awoke, it was to find the boy sweating and twitching against his side. In a half-sleeping haze, he dabbed his forehead with the still-damp flannel and held it to his skin. He shook his head to wake up a little and wondered if it would be better for Edward's fever if he went to sleep in his own bed.
"I won't leave."
Roy looked at the creeping, cold darkness of the bedroom and sighed quietly. He gripped Edward in a tight embrace and fell back asleep with his arms holding the boy as if his physical presence could protect him from his darkest nightmares. Because damn, he wished it could.
"Goodnight," he whispered, taking a bizarre comfort in the boy's warm presence against his body.
As if in reply, Edward's tense muscles relaxed and he nestled his head against Roy's neck.
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER BEFORE NORTH CITY LIKE ACTUAL FINALLY UGH *I'm sorry*
And I FINALLY got to see 'Big Hero 6'! There was a preview screening last week, and it's technically still not in the movies until Boxing Day, but still! I've seen it! (And it's been all I've thought about since… ):'D Amazing…! The song from it, 'Immortals', is my current obsession. XD
Once again, I forgot if I've responded to any of your reviews *sweats* so REVIEW RESPONSES
Yorokobi Asahi: Yes, Yu needs a punch. And Ed just caught a cold, probably from running in the rain. XD He'll be a lot better soon.
NorthernMage: But I do so love my Parental!Ed! (Just kidding. XD)
Breyannia: Yeah, it seems like Roy's just the big punching bag of the story. (I'm sorry, Colonel…)
LordTicky: Why thank you! :D And AWESOME! I can't wait to keep reading!
dragoscilvio: There! I've finally got in one of your suggestions! And if you have any more, don't hesitate to throw them my way! I love hearing them, so thanks for your reviews! Please leave me some feedback if you have the time. :3
And thank you to everyone else! You guys are AMAZING! Happy holidays (if that's the right thing to say)! Oh, and I'm going on another unwanted holiday, so the next update may come a little later!