Prompt #89 (Sick) for 100moods
This was Roy’s least favorite sort of sick day, the sort where he was actually sick. Feeling very sorry for himself, he rolled miserably over on the couch, trying to block out the sun shining in through the curtains with his blanket.
The knock on the door felt like a jackhammer on his skull. He was not opening that door. He was not going to drag himself off the couch to answer for some uninvited guest, not even if it was a stripper in a skimpy nurse outfit, not even if it was Fullmetal in a skimpy nurse outfit. Roy frowned. Where had that come from?
The sound of a hand on the door handle drew his mind away from the places it had strayed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but at least it meant he could stay on the couch. Maybe he’d be lucky and whoever was there would feel sorry for him and do something nice, at least close the curtains.
“Mustang. Where are you?” Ed’s voice called from the foyer. Roy groaned. Ed was loud and not likely to be sympathetic. How was he going to get the curtains closed now, because he was not going to let Ed see how miserable he was?
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Roy asked when Ed finally found his way into the living room. He tried to look put together, but only managed to look silly, struggling to sit up, his hair a matted mess, pale and fevered with his t-shirt askew.
“Gracia asked me to bring you this,” Ed grumbled, motioning with his arms to a pot of something that Roy suspected to be chicken soup in his hands.
“Oh. Okay. Just stick it in the fridge or something,” Roy decided it wasn’t worth his pride to keep this up and let his head fall back on the pillow, shutting his eyes miserably against the headache that was permeating everything.
“Are you hungry?” Ed asked, and while it was probably a perfectly normal question considering the pot he’d come over toting, it struck Roy as unusually nice.
“No,” Roy groaned. His head throbbed and the thought of food made him nauseous, though it was just as likely from not having eaten as it was from the headache.
“You look pretty awful,” Ed commented, stifling a giggle at the way Roy buried himself further under the blanket.
“Is talking really necessary?” Roy muttered from beneath the pile of comforter.
“Headache that bad?” Ed inquired, sounding genuinely concerned. Since when did Ed care about anyone but his brother, anyway?
Roy didn’t answer, though the lack of air under the blankets forced his head back out into the light. Ed was startlingly close.
“What?” Roy asked with a tired sigh.
“Scoot over,” Ed said gruffly, seating himself on a spot not taken up by Roy’s stomach. Roy might have protested, but looking up at two golden eyes so close to his… by choice… was just awkward and he didn’t really have the energy to make it worse. Instead he closed his eyes, and sighed.
“What do you want, Ed? I’d really like to go back to slee…” the words caught in his throat as fingers gently brushed his temples, rubbing in tender circles. Roy hadn’t known it was even possible to be that delicate with automail. He really did want to ask what on earth Ed was doing, but it felt nice and he was afraid if he said anything, Ed would come to his senses and stop. Maybe he’d ask later, he decided, but he didn’t have to wait.
“My mom used to this when my head hurt,” Ed murmured awkwardly. Roy cracked open one eye to see that Ed was blushing a very vibrant shade of pink He was actually kind of cute when he wasn’t being loud and obnoxious. If not for the way he doted on his brother, Roy would never have even guessed Ed was capable of being like this.
“Hmmm,” Roy acknowledged, too relaxed to say anything. The worst of the pain was ebbing, leaving only a dull ache in its wake. He’d have to remember this for next time he had a headache.
Regardless of where Ed had learned this particular talent, he was definitely good at it. Roy assumed it came from years of mostly taking care of himself, but didn’t really have the energy to think much on the subject, sighing contentedly as Ed’s fingers worked through his hair, and was Ed humming? He tried for a moment, but couldn’t focus long enough to figure out what the song was. Before he knew it, Roy was drifting rather peacefully to sleep.
When he woke, Roy lay with his eyes closed for a while, willing himself back to sleep. Failing that, he unwillingly opened an eye, glancing at the clock. He’d been out for hours. Roy wondered idly when Ed had left, noting with one corner of his mouth upturned that the curtains were closed.
His headache was all but gone, and he noted with satisfaction that it no longer made him feel dizzy and sick to sit up. He cast about for something on the coffee table to read when his eyes landed on a bowl of soup still steaming within arm’s reach. Ed hadn’t been gone long at all, then.
He should probably thank Ed for all this, Roy though, but decided against it. Whatever the young man’s reasons were for all this, he was rather fragile and Roy was afraid that even acknowledging it would cause the whole thing to crumble. He’d find some way to thank Ed later. In the meantime, Roy allowed himself to simply be glad he was feeling better and be thankful in silence.