The Right Thing

There were two ways Roy could have chosen to manage his distress. Ed had slipped by him, creeping through all the safeguards and careful manipulations that Roy had depended on to keep him safe. His defensive tactics having failed, Roy could either take it like a reasonable adult, awaiting his lovers return with patience and confidence that Ed would make it out unscathed…

Or he could sneak a flask into the office, pace like a madman, and be distracted enough to test even Fury’s near legendary patience.

Riza hadn’t been much help. Ok, that was unfair. The woman had done everything in her power to soothe him, taking care of matters around the office so no one would notice Roy’s current dysfunction but, even though he was unwilling to admit it, Roy had no interest in being soothed. He wanted to worry, fuss, pace…

He wanted to be miserable. He wanted to sulk. Most importantly, he did not want to realize he was doing it. He was blissfully ignorant of his own reddened eyes and rather scraggly scruff. He ignored the awkward concern of his subordinates, the subtle suggestions that if he needed anything, he had but to ask. He had no intention of asking.

Roy was convinced that he wanted to look as miserable as possible in the event that Ed did come back. He wanted the little git to know that he was the cause for Roy’s unhappiness. He wanted Ed to feel awful about leaving, about getting angry. Sure, it was a very adolescent response, but the only difference between children and adults in that respect is adults knew when to reign in their less…appropriate inclinations.

And since inappropriate inclinations were what had started the mess in the first place Roy felt utterly justified in further indulging.

“And here I thought my smoking habit was a bit fierce.” Havoc shook his head in what was most likely supposed to be mock dismay, and only partially succeeding, as he entered Roy’s office.

Roy glared up at the other man in a way he hoped suggested Havoc should leave. Imminently.

“Don’t bother. I drew the short straw, so I’m not leaving.”

“…pardon me?”

“I drew the short straw, so I’m the lucky spiff that gets to sit down on this nice comfy couch of yours and try to get you to talk.” Crooked grin on his face, Havoc proceeded to do just that. “So what crawled up your ass and died?”

…In his own unique way…

“Leave.”

“No can do.” Havoc pulled a cig free of his pocket, plopped it between his lips, and added, almost as an afterthought, “sir.”

“Lieutenant, leave before I call Hawkeye in to haul you out.”

“See, here’s the thing, sir, Hawkeye has sworn off your office until you stop sulking. Something about being too tempted to shot you so that you have something tangible to be miserable about.”

Roy felt his fingers twitch.

“So. I can either just sit here and smoke for a bit, pretend that we have a wonderfully enlightening and helpful conversation and then leave, or you can actually talk. Either way, this couch is rather comfy, and Hawkeye has a pistol, so I am staying put for the duration.” Havoc chewed on the end of his cigarette in a contemplative sort of silence for a few moments. “She is real worried, ya know.”

“I know.”

“So, why don’t you humor her and at least tell me what is bugging you?”

Roy let his face drop into his waiting hands. This was too much. He couldn’t sustain a temper tantrum of any sort of magnitude given the concern of his subordinates…his friends. Roy muttered his defeat into his palms.

“What was that sir?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, that sure as hell makes my job harder.”

“You could leave?” The hopeful note in his voice made the inch that remained of Roy’s pride cringe.

“Talk. At least a little. And I will go. Sound good?”

“You are a persistent, stubborn…”

“Bastard? Yeah. I know. It’s part of my charm.”

It was at that point the correct neurons managed to connect in Roy’s brain. Havoc was in his office. Havoc, who should have been out in the field on assignment, on Ed’s assignment, was sitting in his office casually asking him what was wrong. “You damn well know what is wrong, Lieutenant. What the hell possessed you to change assignments with Fullmetal?”

“The boss asked, and seemed damn intent on going, whether or not I stayed behind. It seemed silly for both of us to go, and it was assigned to him initially…”

“How did you know it was Edward’s to begin with?!”

“I don’t suppose you will let me go if I say a little bird told me?” Havoc grimaced as Roy’s intent look remained trained on his face. “Mustang, it’s not that hard to get a hold of assignment listings. I’m sorry if I screwed something up here, but since you aren’t fucking talking to any of us we can’t damn well do anything about it, can we?”

“I’m worried about Fullmetal.” There. He had admitted it. Any second now, Havoc would break into laughter, tell him he was being an idiot. Maybe he wouldn’t make it to the next line of thought, one that would inevitably involve questions as to why the mighty colonel should suddenly be so concerned about one blond youth.

“With all due respect, I think Ed can take care of himself. It’s who he runs up against we should be worrying about.” A wry smile twisted the corner of Havoc’s mouth. “You, on the other hand, look like shit. We should obviously be far more worried about you.”

Havoc stood, stretched, and tossed his soggy, gnawed cig into Roy’s trash. “Anyway, the boss stated that if we let you agonize over the fact he was out doing his job he was going to kick our asses when he got back.”

“He…Edward…what?” Roy was stunned, stuck somewhere between amused and irate. “He said that?”

“Repeatedly. With great enthusiasm.” Havoc rubbed thoughtfully at his shoulder. “I have a bruise or three to prove it. The kid was almost as worried about you as he was angry with you.”

“Was he now?” Roy slouched back into his chair. “Well, I told you what was wrong, so shouldn’t you be leaving?”

“Wheeeeeeeeeew. Talk about the cold shoulder. I’m on my way out.”

Havoc didn’t so much leave as saunter out of Roy’s office.

Well. That was less tragic than it could have been. Roy was sure Havoc had some sort of inkling as to what was going on; there had been a thoughtful sort of look in those deceptively guileless eyes. But…he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t looked disgusted or angry... maybe, just maybe, it was possible that a few people could know and it would be alright. First Riza, then Jean…and nothing tragic thus far…

Well, nothing tragic apart from a raging ulcer and nerves that were frayed enough to contemplate stealing one of Havoc’s precious smokes. After all, there had to be some explanation for the man’s unflappable attitude…