Catscratches Tuesday was lunch day. When their schedules allowed, even if they had to force the time in, Ed met Roy for lunch. It gave Ed an excuse to see the old crew and catch up with those he might otherwise not see on a regular basis. For Roy, it meant an afternoon out of the office and away from the disapproving glare of Hawkeye. And often, it was little more than an excuse for quick and dirty afternoon sex. When Ed neared the door to Roy’s office, he found Havoc leaning against the wall, cigarette clenched firmly in his mouth and a grim expression on his face. “You do not want to go in there today, boss.” “It’s Tuesday.” Havoc nodded, twirling his lighter in his hands as though he wanted nothing better than to light up in the middle of the hallway. “You’re better off pretending you thought it was still Monday. Believe me.” “What the hell is going on?” “There was a little incident this morning. It’s all Fuery’s fault for bring them here in the first place. He doesn’t know when to leave these things well enough alone. Then the General had to get in the middle and then,” he shrugged. “I’m not going back in there until he stops bleeding.” “Bleeding? What the fuck?” Visions of Roy, covered in blood, lying near death swamped Ed until it was all he could see. “What are you doing out here? Go get help.” He threw open the door to the office and wasn’t calmed by the scene before him. Roy’s staff was all aflutter; Fuery standing off to one side apologizing profusely, while Breda and Falman were digging through the drawers of the desks, giving triumphant shouts when they came across first-aid material. Hawkeye, unsurprisingly, was arguing with Roy. “Let me see. We have to put something on it or it could get infected.” She threw Ed a relieved look when he approached. Roy, for his part, was hunched over in his chair, a white handkerchief pressed to his face, splotches of bright red peeking through his hands and around the edges of the cloth. “Go away.” That was not the sound of a critically injured Roy Mustang. That was a Roy Mustang who was feeling embarrassed and humiliated. Ed smiled. “What did you do?” “Oh, God. Of course it’s fucking Tuesday.” His voice was muffled slightly by the cloth, but there was a strong element of authority in it. “Everyone out.” Hawkeye herded everyone from the room, pressing a bottle of antiseptic in Ed’s hand on her own way out. “He really should get something on it.” Ed approached slowly, the way he would an injured animal. “Let me see.” “I thought I told everyone to get out.” Ed patted the top of Roy’s head, slightly harder than affection dictated. “My days of following your orders are long gone, Mustang.” Roy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You never followed orders.” “All the more reason not to fight me.” He reached out and tugged at the cloth, tilting Roy’s head up in the process. As the handkerchief moved away, Ed could see long, bloody scratches running down both of Roy’s cheeks, one set just missing his right eye. “What the fuck? Did Fuery bring another animal in here?” Roy closed his eyes and hissed out a pained breath as Ed began dabbing the antiseptic on the scratches. “Not exactly.” “What does that mean? You know, animal wounds can be really dangerous, they carry all kinds of things—“ “You need to stop helping Al study for his medical exams.” Ed dabbed the antiseptic more forcefully into the wounds than was strictly necessary. “And you need to keep your face away from, I don’t know, whatever did this.” When Roy said nothing, Ed poked his shoulder. “You should just tell me. I’ll get it out of Havoc if you don’t, and you know how reliable his stories are.” “Do you think they’ll scar?” Ed frowned at him, turning his chin left and right as though to consider the question. “No, I think you’re in the clear. Good thing, too, because I wouldn’t love you if you were scarred. Vain. Now spill.” Roy sighed. “Fuery’s been working with a local community center. He’s been getting involved in outreach and education, things to help kids who need a little extra. Today, he scheduled a small trip to bring them by and show them how a military office works.” “Do the people running the place know this is probably the most dysfunctional office in the building?” “Do you want me to tell the story or do you want to make your funny little jokes?” “Did one of them bring a cat?” The scratches, now that Ed looked closely at them though, didn’t look like they’d come from a cat. “No. It was, uh, two of the young women started an altercation when they entered the office. It seems one of them had stolen the other’s boyfriend. Words were exchanged, hair was pulled, nails were out. I thought, with my experience with the female population, I could diffuse the situation.” Roy’s eyes seemed to settle everywhere but Ed’s and he leaned a little further away from Ed as he spoke. “Two teenaged girls did this?” Ed couldn’t contain his laughter. Roy Mustang, State Alchemist, decorated General, taken down by a couple of girls. “I’d like to have seen you do better. They were vicious.” He jerked the bottle from Ed’s hand and stalked to the window to use his reflection to finish the job. “Don’t you have work to do?” Ed shrugged. “It’s Tuesday. I cleared my whole afternoon. And really, what would it look like if I weren’t here with you in your time of need? You know, to be supportive as you struggle through your injury.” “I hardly like you at all.”
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