AN: Ugh, never thought this chapter would be done. Still hate it, but it'll work. Lemme know what ya'll think could be done better. Thanks!
Apparently, Central Command had grown legs and moved itself much closer to the station in the year and a half that Ed had been gone. There was no other conclusion as to why the drive ended so suddenly. What little hope he'd had of composing himself before seeing Mustang flew out the window as they neared the doors to what he assumed was the new office space.
Al and Havoc chattered a few steps ahead, oblivious to the hurricane of emotions behind them. What was he supposed to say? 'Oi, General Bastard, I know I'm a massive fuck up, but I have no idea what I'm doing without you?'. Yeah, that would go over great.
A stray thought stopped him. Fuck, he didn't even know if Mustang would take him back, he sure as fuck wouldn't. Running through the mission list in his head, there hadn't been a single one he hadn't fucked up in some way or another. Granted, the old brass turned blind eyes due to his unknown sacrifice status, but this time, it would have to be different. Mustang wouldn't risk the furhership this close to the end goal, even if Grumman was a crazy old coot.
Maybe it wasn't too late for him to grab Al and run…
Ed snorted and began walking again. Even if he managed to get the drop on Al, he doubted he'd make it ten strides before Hawkeye put a bullet in his automail. Well, he hoped she'd aim for that leg.
'It's Mustang,' they had stopped in front of the doors, 'at the very least he'll make sure Al takes the exam. The rest we can figure out.'
Nostalgia slammed into Ed as the doors swung wide, revealing the busy team within. Fuery and Breda sat closest to what Ed assumed was Mustang's office, though he assumed the empty desk to the left of that door was Hawkeye's. They poured over a stack of files while Falman and Hawkeye stood close to the door, pens pressed against a map on the wall.
Ed couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips as he watched them work. Fuck he'd missed them.
"Look who I found!" At Havoc's voice, the other four snapped to attention.
"Alphonse, Edward, it's good to see you boys." Hawkeye placed her pen behind her ear, pushing past Havoc to wrap them in a hug. "We didn't know you were coming." She added with a stern gaze to Havoc.
Ed hid his snort of amusement in Hawkeye's shoulder as Havoc paled and raised his hands. "Chief's orders, sorry, Hawk."
"Don't be too hard on them, Colonel, I asked the General not to tell anyone."
"What'd you do that for, Al?" Ed cut in, pulling back from them. His answer was a quick elbow to the gut. "Dammit, Al." He rubbed the spot Al hit. That was going to bruise. He could practically feel it forming.
"Anyway, I asked him not to tell you, so it would be a surprise! So," Al smiled. "Surprise!"
Breda was the first of the others to break. "Aw fuck guys, it's good to see you." He dropped the file he'd been holding, though made no move to stand. "Home's been good to you."
"Yeah, Al, you look great! Making sure Ed hasn't blown anything up?" Ed could feel a headache coming on at this point. Nostalgia be damned. If Fuery was getting in playful shots, it had been too long.
"With how tall he's gotten, he will still be confused for the older brother."
"Okay, fuck you, Falman." He gave the older man a single-finger salute. "I didn't miss any of you fuckers now that I think of it."
"Now, Ed," Havoc's voice contained something too close to laughter for Ed's pride. "I'm sure you'll grow too someday."
Before Ed could commit murder, the distinct click of safety being turned off brought the room back to attention.
"Sorry, Colonel," Ed mumbled, shrinking into himself a bit. Hawkeye simply nodded before smiling again and turning the safety back on.
"Where is General Mustang?" Al shifted on his feet, still standing just inside the doorway.
"He said something about needing to stretch his legs." Breda rubbed his chin, a grin already forming on his lips. "Now that you're here, I'm betting he just wanted to get out of the line of fire."
"Now I know I didn't miss any of you," Ed muttered with mock irritation, trying to at least pretend that he hadn't missed their utter bullshit.
"We missed you too, boss." Havoc flopped down on Ed's couch, earning him a single-finger salute from the blonde.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Ed rolled his eyes. "When's the bastard supposed to be back? I've got better shit to do than wait around for him all day."
"Straight to the point, I see, Fullmetal."
With a yelp, Ed nearly hit the ceiling as Mustang's amused voice sounded behind him. Spinning to face him, Ed's breath left his body. Instead of his usual full uniform, Roy wore his white button-down and dress pants with his jacket thrown over one shoulder. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ed registered the bags of food hanging from his arms, but his eyes had fixated on Mustang's smile. Running through his memories of the man, Ed couldn't think of a single genuine smile that had been aimed at him. Sure, there had been plenty of knowing smirks, goading grins, and amused half-quirks, but nothing like that. Nothing that would ever make him think the man was actually happy to see him.
Heat spread across his cheeks as a defensive urge festered. Fuck him. Fuck him for smiling like that. The bastard thought he was going to resign after all!
No. No, he wouldn't blow up. Dammit, he needed the bastard on his side if he was going to stay enlisted. If he was going to let—No if Al was going to take the exam.
"About time you show up, Bastard." Ed drawled in an attempt to not blow up on the man, as much as his mind still continued to scream profanities. "Been gone a while, but you're still the same shirker as before."
"Someone had to retrieve the food." Mustang moved around them, setting the bags on the table in the center of the room. Dusting his hands together dramatically, Mustang shot a smirk at Ed as he made his approach. "And 'shirker' isn't a word. Layabout maybe, Fullmetal?" Too soon he stood before Ed, a gloved hand resting on his shoulder.
Anger ebbed as Ed stilled, glancing at the hand on his shoulder before looking at Mustang's face. Dark circles jumped out at him; he almost didn't notice that his face was thinner or the slight crease between his brows. When he finally noticed the dark eyes staring blankly at him, Ed frowned. His mask was up. Why? The fallout from the coup had to have been a shit show, but even during the damn thing, Mustang hadn't looked this…haggard.
How had he missed the scruffy hair, the tension across his shoulders? For fuck's sake, he had his damn gloves on! How the actual fucking hell had he missed it?
'Because he smiled at you.' a small contempt voice whispered from deep in his mind, which he promptly told to fuck off, but still… He wracked his brain, cursing himself for not keeping up with anything after The Promised Day. The question burned his mouth, but the others swarmed around the table, food already divvied up among them. He could wait to ask when it was just them.
"You okay, Fullmetal?" Mustang's hushed voice snapped him back to focus. The blank gaze had morphed into something resembling concern that had that little voice cackling delightedly. Wasn't gonna deal with that right now.
"Yeah, fine. Just…" Ed glanced to the others now sitting around the table at the far end of the room. Al flexed his arms, a near-perfect copy of Armstrong, while the others congratulated him on his swift recovery.
Mustang followed his eyes, a soft smile forming. "I know. We can talk in private later." The hand still on his shoulder patted him twice before dropping. "For now, let's go enjoy ourselves."