Chapter Text
His office was mostly peaceful.
Roy's desk was always full of students’ papers to grade and stacks of books, old and new. There was his ashtray, used for illegal smoking via a window—he may have disassembled the smoke detector just to be able to do this. He even had a few of his trinkets, gifts from friends, an old mug, etc. He was spending too much time in the office not to get cozy.
The room was retro, to say the least, if not to say: old, but it didn't bother him. It had its appeal to have this dark academia aesthetic. Dark brown furniture, stuffed bookshelves, and three heavy desks crowded to fit. One – his, the other one belonging to the mostly absent professor Marcoh.
The third was left to be used by postdoc students.
Never a good thing to have.
The current staff consisted of two young minds – a cheerful girl named May Chang, who had impressed Professor Marcoh, and a mysterious boy, sent here by Professor Izumi, who essentially bullied her colleague into accepting her prodigy of a student. Marcoh gladly took in the two and - light-heartedly - left all the postdoc-related bullshit to his younger associate.
So the office was now assigned to four, not two people, which wouldn't have to be a disaster, but it was.
Roy was feeling too old for this kind of hustle. The Chang girl was rarely a problem, if not for sometimes confusing him or preventing him from procrastinating, but the notorious Edward Elric?
The boy gave him a headache on their very first meeting.
Weeks passed by, and it wasn’t getting any better.
Roy was usually quite fine with social interactions, but THIS felt incredibly awkward. The article he was supposed to review was glowing on his laptop, but he couldn't focus with another person in the room.
All right, no. With that exact person in the room.
Elric was reading some papers, probably essays to grade, if Roy could judge by the frown and occasional curses under his breath. A red pen was swishing in his non-prosthetic arm; he was doing the thing with twisting and turning the pen at maximum speed. That alone could get on one's nerves, couldn't it? Roy was thinking – again – about the mystery surrounding the man, frustrating as hell. What made Izumi so invested in sending him here? Why didn’t she recommend him to her own uni? Why did Marcoh agree so easily, and why was he already speaking so highly of the young man?
And what's with the prosthetic arm? An expensive one, by the look of it.
That was not something you could ask, wasn't it?
He knew more than one person with a similar prosthetic, actually, but they were all military-issue. When could Elric have the pleasure of experiencing war first-hand?
Elric groaned again, threw his pen on the desk, and pulled one wireless earbud out.
“People now go to therapy, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“What I said.”
Roy felt like laughing.
He thought about the countless hours he spent in therapy groups and later, one-on-ones with his shrink in the feel-good office. If only the kid would know.
“And you do, I presume?”
The young man scoffed, visibly pissed by the remark. So it was on point.
“Yeah, no, but that's cause I can't afford it, not due to my fragile male ego.”
“So you think my ego is fragile?”
“Obvs.”
“That's very presumptuous of you.”
“Fuck no, I'm just observant. You've been staring at me like I'm some kind of competition since we met, and what's up with the Conservative button-ups and coffee and cigs and all that brooding? Add to it the ‘I support the army like a true patriot’ mug and we have it.” Elric pointed his prosthetic finger in his direction, like making a point. “Fragile.”
The clock suddenly seemed very loud.
That was no way to address your superior, and they both knew this.
Roy shook his head, stunned but not hurt. It can't get to him if the accusations are not true. Elric waited, visibly tense. Testing the boundaries.
Does he think I’m going to give him detention?
God, he must’ve had a lot of detentions in school.
“The Department of Psychology is in another building, Edward. Feel free to change your career path.”
It wasn't particularly subtle, but it shut his mouth. Elric scoffed and rolled his eyes.
It looked like Roy had a wild ride coming with that one.
No matter the situation, humans are incredible at adapting to a changing environment.
“Legs off the desk,” he didn't even have to put any real attention to the comment.
Like a ritual, he walks in, leaves his coffee on his desk, and starts to unbutton his coat. And Edward groans, taking his legs in heavy boots down, which visibly hurts his dignity.
“Mr. Grumpy came early today,” he murmurs, looking offended as always.
“And you are already pissed off, I see. Something went wrong in the lab again?” he pushed back, out of habit.
Elric scoffed, proving that the educated guess was correct. It was a common occurrence: he would come to the office to throw books around and browse until he found the answer to why he messed up.
Scientifically, it was a good process, and Roy would praise that - if it was anyone but him.
He wasn't the only petty one, as Elric never asked him for help, even though they worked in roughly the same field.
Even though Roy could have helped him.
And that was offensive, wasn't it?
Roy could teach him and probably do so with good results - but that would require Ed to treat him like a teacher.
Sadly, both of them were too proud to try to change that.
At least I am aware , he thought.
The breaking point happened as a result of coincidences, like in a comedy of errors.
Roy needed to end his phone call – absolutely not work-related but extremely interesting, as Jessica was talking about her new boy, just because Elric decided to storm into the office, holding a bunch of papers, looking visibly mad. Well – madder than usual.
Roy said his greetings and received no reply, which was also unusual; Edward would usually at least murmur a good morning. The papers landed on the desk, most of them handwritten, and Elric sat with his face in his palms.
That wasn't enough for Roy to show that he cared, but the time had passed, and Elric was still in this position.
“Do you plan on staying like that all day?”
There was a prolonged moment of silence.
“Yeah, maybe.”
Okay, that really made Roy worry.
Did Elric just agree with him without fighting?
“Won't you at least tell me why?”
For some reason, this broke the den.
“Because! I can just quit academia, and it won't make any difference. I can't get a fucking equation right and all the sources about this super important thing are just some grandpa's rambling! How is anyone supposed to understand that?! Why is no one writing something more coherent about this cursed fucking method and why was I dumb enough to decide that yeah, this one , I can work with this?!” Elric inhaled shakily for more fuel. “Apparently, I can-fucking-not if I don't understand this bullshit.”
That was certainly a lot.
“First of all, only grandpas understand grandpa's rambling. It's not a surprise you can't, especially if you rely on the illegible work of Professor Debur.”
Elric looked at him like he had just grown a second head.
“Isn’t that… A classic?”
“So was slavery, don’t you think?”
Since the incident, Edward occasionally reached out to him in an unmistakably inappropriate manner, fueled by frustration. It did improve their relations in a way, but the ever-present audacity and Edward’s lack of social filter stayed exactly the same.
Other problems ensued.
It wasn't unexpected that having a younger, attractive co-worker would cause him to have a wet dream or two.
What made Roy worry was the very sentient fantasy that took place on a regular fucking Tuesday. Elric was toying with the metal rings, spinning the silver around with a rhythmic clicking sound. It was easy to be captivated by long fingers and fast movements; after all, one didn’t have to be in his twenties to be horny.
To quit staring, Roy forced himself to look through the window – but the sight of restless fingers stayed with him. What's worse, it changed, rustled sheets appeared as a background, and his own hand seemed to be keeping Elric's wrist in place.
God, it is bad.
Of course, he won’t ever act on his thoughts and bend Elric over the desk to teach him a different kind of lesson. Roy cringed internally at the simplicity of this fantasy. Which, sadly, didn’t stop him.
The boy would put up a fight, wouldn't he? Say some provocative shit with that better-than-you grin of his. Would he beg him in the end? Maybe after the use of his own belt, swung across his back.
After all, he must be kinky, dressing like that. With that borderline BDSM aesthetic as a work dress code? Come on.
Edward was oblivious, of course, lost in his research. What would he think if he knew that, one, his coworker was very much gay, and two, he was sitting just across the room with his mind in the gutter?
He would probably report him for harassment.