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Roy Mustang was Edward Elric’s commanding officer, not his father.
At least, that's what he told everyone. When curious inquiries reached his ears about the relationship he had with the Elrics, about why Edward always stood next to him in company photos and why Roy just so happened to find an alchemic prodigy in the backwater town of Resembool, he told them just that. He didn’t try to explain that the math didn’t work out, or that Edward was a brat who didn’t care for his authority. He merely said that he was his superior, and nothing more.
Still, rumors flurried about, and Roy found that didn’t care for most of them, despite what others might believe. So what if people thought the golden-haired, hot-headed kid was his son? Edward called him ‘dad’ on more than one occasion when he felt Roy wasn’t giving him adequate attention, purely out of spite and a desire to embarrass him in public ( as if having Edward as a son would be embarrassing ) but Roy knew that the rumors were just that. Rumors. They held no water, and if Roy was the only one willing to believe that, so be it. Edward wasn’t his kid, and Roy wasn’t his parent.
Sure, being a Colonel in the military felt like parenting sometimes, like when Fuery broke down in the middle of his office while giving a report and Roy had to sit next to him on the couch and keep a hand on his back, or when Havoc carelessly tossed his lit cigarettes in the wrong trash can and set the wrinkled papers aflame, crawling up on his desk and practically screeching for Roy’s help to put out the fire, but all the members of his squad were adults. Edward was a child.
And with Edward, sometimes that line between superior and father blurred.
Like now, for instance.
The two of them had been out for a brief mission, if you could even call it that, and Roy had invited Edward to go with him across town to collect some information from a Lieutenant Colonel Hopkins. Edward, who had been stuck in town since a mishap with his last Philosopher's Stone quest, stuck on desk duty per Roy’s request while the tension from upstairs died down, willingly jumped at the opportunity to get out of the so called ‘stuffy office’.
Roy definitely had to agree with him when it came to that.
It had been a while since Roy had had some one on one time with the kid, and used the stroll across town to get updates on him as any good superior officer would do. Edward had been bouncy and erratic, rushing every which way and getting distracted, and it took three chocolate covered donuts and all the cash out of his wallet to keep the kid still while he spoke with Hopkins.
It had been a nice little outing, despite the gray hairs Roy knew were sprouting from his scalp at the ripe twenty nine years of age, and they had been headed back near late afternoon, both of them in agreement for once to take a little extra time to avoid their overdue paperwork. Roy had been relieved that all had gone smoothly and he had gotten what he needed with little argument from both Edward and Hopkins, following Edward’s clunky, metallic footsteps back to the command building.
Of course, it truly wouldn’t have been an Edward and Roy duo without a bit of mishap. He honestly should have been expecting it.
Roy had TOLD him to stop running. The pathway was hilly, rocky, uneven, all the fluffy adjectives for anything less than smooth , wagging a finger at him, but Edward had just stuck his tongue out, a bit of chocolate still on the edges of his lips, hopping away and racing across the blacktop without a care in the world for his superiors advice.
Roy wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, he thought that maybe the kid had slipped on the loose gravel or tripped over one of the many gnarled sticks that spotted the ground, but the next thing he knew was a loud CRACK! splitting the still air, his Major was about seven feet down the sharp edge of unpaved path to this right. Roy had dropped everything without a second thought and raced down to his side when he heard the boy scream.
Edward was half on his side, half on his rear, both hands wrapped tight around his flesh ankle, eyes wild and bright with pain. Roy had tried to check his it, scanning the boy’s face as a mixture of fear and irritation swirled around his chest, but Edwrd had flinched back like a scared cat, hissing as Roy’s fingers coasted the edge of his injured ankle.
It had taken a bit of coaxing on his part to convince Edward to let him look, and when Edward had reluctantly pulled his shaking hands away from his foot, it was painfully obvious what had happened to it. Roy had been hoping for a sprained ankle, maybe even just a pulled muscle if he was lucky, but Edward’s ankle twisted funny to one side and was already starting to swell, an uneven bump right on the side of his foot. Roy gently prodded the edge of it, and Edward had spat angrily at him and pulled his foot away, but it was all Roy needed to confirm his exasperated suspicion.
The damn kid had broken his ankle.
And when he said that, Edward had started to cry.
He was trying to hide it, that much was clear, masking his tears by hiding his face against his shoulder and yelling obscenities each time Roy tried to reassure him, but tears were clouding the edges of his eyes and dripping down his cheeks despite his best attempts. And the more Roy looked, trying to get a better idea of just how badly he had broken the boy, Edward’s crying grew more insistent and hitching.
He didn’t know why, but as his Major’s crying turned to sobbing, he let Roy reach out for him, and Roy took advantage of the moment of weakness to scoop the boy up in his arms and walk him to the nearest hospital. Edward complained and squirmed at first, but when it had jarred his ankle a bit too much for even him to handle, he sank his head against Roy’s shoulder and let him carry him, allowing Roy to murmur soft assurances a while he walked to the hospital with little complaining from Edward’s part, though he did get a couple of smacks on the chest with cold automail fingers.
They doctors had taken good care of his kid, and Edward had quietly asked Roy to stay with him while they gave the kid liquid painkillers and set the bone, even going so far as to let Roy hold his hand while they pushed his broken bone back into place, though he didn’t look at him as more angry tears spilled down his face, lips in a snarl of pain and fury as the bone clicked back in with a grating snap.
When Edward had been wrapped up in smooth cotton and black plaster, his eyes red and puffy but no longer crying, resting somewhat contiently on the hospital bed, the fear had finally let go of Roy’s chest, and he had left briefly to make a call to Hawkeye to let her know that he wasn’t he and Edward weren’t dipping out of work, Edward had broken his ankle, and they would be back as soon as possible.
After asking if he was alright, Hawkeye had joked that it was all part of Roy’s grand plan to avoid his late paperwork. Roy wished that that’s all it had been.
And now, he was headed back to Edward’s hospital room, waiting for the doctors to come back with his release paperwork so they could be on their way.
He took in a deep breath outside the door, rubbing his eyes before stepping back into the beige colored room. Edward was leaning back against the pillow, eyes half open, and a chuckle bubbled up in the back of Roy's throat at the sight. Whatever they had given him must have been good if he was already fighting to stay awake in the few minutes Roy had left him to his own devices.
Edward’s head swiveled to the side when he heard Roy’s footsteps, furrowing his bloodshot eyes at him. He blinked slowly, and Roy gave him a wave, sitting back down in his plastic chair that he had dragged from the waiting room so he could sit with his Major. The boy seemed a little out of it, which was to be expected, and they seemed to be really taking hold of his mind now.
Edward blinked again, following him with his droopy eyes as Roy sat back down, and pointed at him accusingly .
“Bastard,”
Roy fought back a smile, shaking his head. Not even on drugs could he avoid the affectionate insult Edward had given him. “Yes, it’s me,” he agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “How are you feeling?”
Edward seemed to contemplate this, before fanning out his fingers and shoving them in front of Roy’s face. Roy gave him a puzzled look, examining his fingers for what the boy seemed to be sowing him, when Edward’s fingers brushed the tip of his chin. He leaned back, but Edward kept carining forward, and Roy retlented, allowing him to place his hand on his face so the boy didn’t fall off the bed.
Edward stroked his cheek, cocking his head. “Your face is scratchy,”
“I haven’t shaved today,” Roy chuckled. He wasn’t one of those men that needed to shave everyday, but it had been a while, and stubble was starting to grow. Roy placed a hand over Edward’s to guide it back to his lap, but Edward pouted, continuing to pet Roy’s chin with a look of pure, innocent engrossment at the texture. “Edward-”
“Will my face be scratchy?”
Roy laughed at that. Edward’s eyes were wide and doe-like, making him seem much younger than he was, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion at Roy’s laughter. Roy gave a slight shake of his head. While he had expected Edward to be a little out of sorts on the painkillers, he hadn’t expected him to be so…. amusingly innocent and curious. It was funnier, and much sweeter, than he cared to admit.
“It will, one day. Probably when you’re about fifteen or sixteen,”
Edward’s bottom lip wobbled at that, the happiness vanishing from his face, and it was Roy’s turn to be confused. Before he could ask what was the matter, Edward dropped his hand from his face, touching his own chin, tears gathering up in his eyes.
Sudden panic welled up in Roy’s chest, replacing the mirth he had felt before, scolding himself for ruining one of the few relaxed moments he had with the kid. What in the world had spurred that reaction from him? What had he said? Every teenage boy on the planet was excited for the day they would finally become a man and start growing facial hair and their voices would stop squeaking at random intervals, so why was Edward so distraught by the news that he too, one day would have hair?
Edward sniffled again, wiping his nose, and Roy shuffled his hands. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?
“I don’t want my face to be scratchy,” Edward snuffled, rubbing his jaw with his flesh hand.
Oh.
“Well, why not? Don’t wanna grow a manly mustache like Armstrong?” Roy quipped, hoping to lighten Edward’s moods, and try to save the moment. Armstrong’s mustache was a monstrosity, and Roy prayed for the day that the burly man would shave it all off. He tried to imagine Edward with a golden, swirly mustache, and shuddered. He could get Edward wanting to keep his face clear if what he imagined was accurate.
Edward shook his head. “Don’t want ANYTHING,” he said, patting his cheeks. “No scratchy,”
“You’re going to get it SOMEDAY, Ed,” Roy said, the nickname slipping out without a second thought. “Everyone get’s facial hair. Hell, even women do,”
“No!” Edward crowed, collapsing back into the hospital bed, covering his face.
Roy had never seen such an aversion to getting facial hair from an adolescent boy in his entire life. He blinked stupidly.
“Ed, relax, it won’t be for a bit,” Roy said, placing a hand on the boy’s elbow. Edward shook his head once again, golden bangs flopping to the side, a high pitched keening sound escaping his smothered mouth.
“Noo, I can’t have scratchy. I can’t fix it. I don’t want it!”
“Fix it?” What the hell did that mean? “You just shave it, Ed, if you’re really that adverse to it,”
That was, decidedly, the wrong thing to say. The minute the words left his mouth, Edward’s face screwed up, and he buried his face in his pillow, a quiet wail leaving his mouth. He burrowed into his blanket, his new cast thunking against the bed frame.
Roy was at a loss. He had no idea what in the hell he was supposed to do with a drugged up Edward Elric who was apparently afraid of facial hair. He hovered a hand above Ed’s shoulder, furious with himself.
He wished Hawkeye or Havoc were here. Edward was much more receptive to their affection than his, and they were much better with kids than he was. He knew that they would probably lay a hand on Ed’s back and tell him everything would be alright, but Roy liked how straight his nose was and didn’t feel like an autmail fist to the face.
A tearful sniffle made its way through the pillow, and Roy sighed, resting his hand down on the kid’s back. Edward froze briefly, and Roy braced himself for a punch to his beautiful face, but it didn't come.
Instead, Edward twisted around, peeking out of a small hole in the blanket with a tearful eye. Despite the utter ridiculousness of the situation, Roy felt his heart falter a little at the utterly distraught expression on his face.
“Ed, what’s up? Why are you so sad?”
The boy blinked his eyes shut, a salty tear creeping down his cheek. “I can’t have scratchy,” he repeated quietly, voice hardly above a whisper.
I’ve got that much.
“Why not, Ed?”
“Because I can’t shave,”
Oh. That was simple enough. Everyone learned to shave, one way or another. Mostly, it was fathers teaching sons, or uncles teaching nephews, or really, any older figure who knew how to shave.
Then the relization hit him, and Roy suddenly felt very, very stupid.
Ooooooh.
This situation was far more complicated than Roy assumed it would be. He looked down at Edward, who’s bright golden eyes peered up back at him with such a broken, devastated expression that one might have thought Roy had broken to him that his beloved pet dog died, not that he didn’t know how to shave.
Roy taught himself how to shave when he was living with Mr. Hawkeye. He offered no advice, only pointing out one day that he wanted the wispy hairs on the boys chin gone or he’d burn them off himself, and Roy had begun the adventure of nicking his chin, getting too much shave cream his face and the granite sink, and god forbid, razor burn.
His first attempt had been awful. He didn't know about shave cream, the razor had been too sharp, and his face burned for days afterward when the collars of his shirts would brush it or when he took a shower. Angry red lumps dotted his face and he was extremely embarrassed. After that, Hawkeye had offered her assistance and sat in the bathroom with him, on the sink, slowly guiding his hand across his face to keep the blade from snagging at his skin. Slowly, Roy’s attempts looked less like a cat attacking his face, and more like the smooth, clean jobs that the older men around East City had.
Roy didn’t have a dad, and the only other male in his life didn’t care, so the learning curve had fallen to him. Edward was so young that he hadn’t even thought about the kid needing to learn to shave. The very idea of it boggled him. In his mind, Edward was still that spiteful, twelve year old boy that tried to assassinate the Fuhrer for his State Alchemist test. There was no way in hell the kid could grow a beard.
But, Edward was older now, when he thought about it.. He was nearing that age. And it made sense he would need to start thinking about it. Roy just didn’t think it would be brought up while he was loopy on painkillers.
Like Roy, Edward didn’t have a father to teach him either, or an older brother, or an uncle.
“Ed,” Roy sighed, giving the kid a pat on the back. “That’s fine. You’ll learn,”
The kid lifted his head from the pillow, shaking his head. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “No, no, I don’t know. I can’t find books,”
Roy swallowed, a bit of sadness tugging at his chest. Damn, had the kid really turned to books to learn? What else did Edward not know? How to tie a tie, pick the right dress clothes?
“You don’t need books,” Roy said, brushing back Edward’s golden bangs out of habit. Edward’s tearful eyes grew smaller, twisting the blanket in his hands.
“But how will I get rid of the scratchy?”
Scratchy, scratchy. Roy thought, heaving a sigh. Causing all these damn problems.
“I’ll teach you, Ed. Don’t worry,”
At once, Edward’s expression went from despairing to shocked, and Roy cursed himself internally for even suggesting the idea. Shit, shit, shit. There was no way in HELL Edward would let him do something so helpful, he hardly let the man pat his shoulder or tell him he was proud without getting an earful. Roy was already scrambling backwards to amend his statement, praying that what he said wouldn’t cause Edward to creep back into his shell.
“Sorry, not me, I’m sure Falman would, or Havoc, he’s-”
“You’ll really teach me?”
Roy stopped short at the boy’s soft tone, Ed looking at him with bright, sparkling eyes, pure amazement etched in his face. He did not have an automail fist pulled back, ready to smash into his superior's face like he thought, and Roy stumbled over his words for a minute. The painkillers running through Ed’s system saved him, and his perfect nose.
“W-well yeah, kid. Why would I not?”
Edward didn’t answer, instead reaching out his arms like a toddler. Roy stared at him, still reeling from the utter shock at his expression of wonderment. When Roy didn’t move, Edward huffed, slight irritation sprinkling into his face.
“Hug me, bastard,”
God, this has to be the damn drugs. It has to be the drugs.
Edward made grabby hands, and Roy cautiously eased into his arms, awaiting the sudden mood change and preparing for a handful of metal to the stomach. Instead, Edward practically flung against him, thudding against his chest with an omph , and Roy staggered backwards at the force.
Edward nuzzled his head tight against Roy’s neck, the little antena ticking the underside of his chin, and Roy thought his heart might burst. Edward never, ever hugged him, and when he did, it was Roy throwing an arm around his shoulder, or Ed allowing Roy to wrap his arms around his back while he sobbed into his own hands on rainy nights or unfortunate anniversary dates.
It was….. nice, in all honesty, to have the boy hugging him, being receptive to his affection.
The line was blurring even more now, like a fresh watercolor in the rain.
“Thank you,” Ed whispered.
Roy tightened his hold, resting his cheek on the boy’s temple. He didn’t know how long Ed was going to let him do this, but he was going to hold him for as long as he allowed. The kid was a pain in his ass, causing him restless nights and premature gray hairs, but now, with Ed snuggled against him without a care in the world, thanking him for merely offering to help him learn to shave, Roy didn’t regret anything, already planning on how he was going to teach his damn kid to shave, and maybe tie a tie.
“Yeah kid. No problem