Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist
Title- The Quiet Times
Disclaimer- dont own the boys. merely borrowing. no profit made.
It wasn't a rare occurrence; Ed entered his office, his trademark stalk somewhat hampered by the fact he looked like he had single handedly taken on all the various heralds of the apocalypse. Bruised, often bloody, and in varied states of disrepair, he would settle onto the couch, almost boneless in his relief to be sitting.
And Roy would wait, seated behind his desk, ignoring the others presence until Ed revealed which way it would be. There were the angry times, when Ed would rant, growling and shouting out his frustration and hurt. Those were the times Roy tried to stay as still, as silent as possible, letting Ed run down into exhaustion. Then there were the quiet times.
Those were the hardest to deal with.
As Ed settled onto the couch and proceeded to stare at a rather uninteresting bit of wall Roy realized which way it was this time around.
It was a delicate art, easing Ed out of the quiet, trying to get him to talk, to fight, hell Roy would even take a direct punch to the face, just as long as it managed to dislodge the younger alchemist from the insidious twisting of his own overactive, guilt ridden mind.
Making sure to let his chair scrape across the floor, alerting Ed to his movement, Roy stood.
Ed didn't so much as twitch.
There were times Roy wished he had never walked into that small house and put ideas into a young, wounded Edward Elric's mind.
It wasn't until Roy had moved all the way to the couch, treading loudly in an attempt to alert the other man to his approach, and physically touched Ed that he got a reaction.
There were things Roy would never get used to having to deal with.
Failed attempts at removing blood from clothing, washing ash off of face and out of hair, even walking down rows of corpses to identify who he could didn't compare to the sheer heartbreaking horror of dealing with a silently weeping Edward Elric.
It was the way Ed clenched his jaw, the way his eyes informed in agonized embarrassment that he wanted to be anywhere but there, crying in front of Roy, but had no where else to go that made Roy grimace.
And do what he dared under no other circumstance. Before he could process the action he was kneeling in front of Ed and gathering the struggling alchemist into his arms, confining him in a way that forced him to acknowledge he was upset. Ed would sob in an open mouthed, gasping sort of way, face pressed into the fabric of Roy's shirt. Nothing was ever said. Words only drew attention to the painful indignity of the moment, the neediness of a proud youth and the inability of the older to make it all right again.
Roy knelt, holding Ed close long after the tears had stopped, past when his knees ached from the pressure and his feet lost all feeling in his boots. He was loath to give up the contact, and from the way Ed's fingers had managed to tangle into the sleeve of his shirt the younger man was loath to let him go.
Disclaimer- dont own the boys. merely borrowing. no profit made.
It wasn't a rare occurrence; Ed entered his office, his trademark stalk somewhat hampered by the fact he looked like he had single handedly taken on all the various heralds of the apocalypse. Bruised, often bloody, and in varied states of disrepair, he would settle onto the couch, almost boneless in his relief to be sitting.
And Roy would wait, seated behind his desk, ignoring the others presence until Ed revealed which way it would be. There were the angry times, when Ed would rant, growling and shouting out his frustration and hurt. Those were the times Roy tried to stay as still, as silent as possible, letting Ed run down into exhaustion. Then there were the quiet times.
Those were the hardest to deal with.
As Ed settled onto the couch and proceeded to stare at a rather uninteresting bit of wall Roy realized which way it was this time around.
It was a delicate art, easing Ed out of the quiet, trying to get him to talk, to fight, hell Roy would even take a direct punch to the face, just as long as it managed to dislodge the younger alchemist from the insidious twisting of his own overactive, guilt ridden mind.
Making sure to let his chair scrape across the floor, alerting Ed to his movement, Roy stood.
Ed didn't so much as twitch.
There were times Roy wished he had never walked into that small house and put ideas into a young, wounded Edward Elric's mind.
It wasn't until Roy had moved all the way to the couch, treading loudly in an attempt to alert the other man to his approach, and physically touched Ed that he got a reaction.
There were things Roy would never get used to having to deal with.
Failed attempts at removing blood from clothing, washing ash off of face and out of hair, even walking down rows of corpses to identify who he could didn't compare to the sheer heartbreaking horror of dealing with a silently weeping Edward Elric.
It was the way Ed clenched his jaw, the way his eyes informed in agonized embarrassment that he wanted to be anywhere but there, crying in front of Roy, but had no where else to go that made Roy grimace.
And do what he dared under no other circumstance. Before he could process the action he was kneeling in front of Ed and gathering the struggling alchemist into his arms, confining him in a way that forced him to acknowledge he was upset. Ed would sob in an open mouthed, gasping sort of way, face pressed into the fabric of Roy's shirt. Nothing was ever said. Words only drew attention to the painful indignity of the moment, the neediness of a proud youth and the inability of the older to make it all right again.
Roy knelt, holding Ed close long after the tears had stopped, past when his knees ached from the pressure and his feet lost all feeling in his boots. He was loath to give up the contact, and from the way Ed's fingers had managed to tangle into the sleeve of his shirt the younger man was loath to let him go.
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