FIC: We Fight Together ~ Fullmetal Alchemist ~ EdRoy ~ Teen

[batsutousai]

Title: We Fight Together
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairings: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Warnings: AU, war, resistance
Summary: When the military rules over everything, the resistance struggles to survive.

A/N: From a list of prompts on tumblr, merelore requested Roy/Ed "let me look into your eyes".
The line didn't actually make it in, but the action did? Half points? ^^;

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

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When Ed came to, the shooting had stopped, at least, but he could still hear the distant sounds of military tanks.

"Moving away?" he whispered.

"Ed?" someone – Roy, he thought – said, a world of concern in their quiet voice.

"The tanks seem to be leaving, yes," Riza said, her words clipped and even.

"I sincerely hoping they're not moving out of range of something worse," Heymans muttered.

Ed started pushing himself up, wincing as the motion made his head pound. Hands came from either side to help him sit, even as Roy – one of the helping hands, judging by how close he sounded – quietly ordered, "Maes, Jean, do some reconnaissance. Kain, as soon as you get the clear, get above ground and get that radio fixed."

"Sir," they all whispered, and then there was a rush of stale air as the three of them moved.

"How's the head?" Roy asked, and it took Ed a moment to realise he was talking to him.

"Hard," Ed snapped, knee-jerk.

Roy sighed and someone – Heymans, likely – snorted.

"Edward," Riza said, flat and unimpressed.

Ed winced. He knew that they were asking because they cared, not just because they needed him in working order to stay alive – his quick defensive alchemy was almost more important than Roy's destructive offensive alchemy, some days – but he'd spent the last five years fighting to keep himself and his brother out of the military's grasp, and it was hard to unlearn his defences, especially when letting them down had been the very thing that lost him Al.

Roy snapped, using up some of their precious oxygen to light a tiny flame above his fingers. "Follow it," he said, his tone just shy of being an order.

Ed bit back the first response that came to him and just did as he was told, blinking a couple of times because looking at the light source was making his eyes water, as used to the darkness as he'd become.

"I wish we had a medic," Roy murmured as the flame vanished.

Ed wasn't the only one to grunt his agreement; the only medics Ed knew had either been snatched up by the military already, or were hiding back in the resistance camp they were attempting to protect by lying down false trails.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Roy said, "Tell me when it hurts," before the hand moved along his shoulder blade and up the nape of his neck to gently press against Ed's head.

Ed hissed and flinched when Roy's hand found where whatever had knocked him out must have hit. "Is it bleeding?" he had too ask, because if he had a bleeding head wound, they would have to go back to camp and he'd be out of commission for at least a week. (Longer, if Winry treated him instead of Knox.) And no way Roy and the rest of the team would be cooling their own heals for the same time, which meant they'd go out without Ed's protection, and Ed didn't want to think about how dangerous that would be.

Roy felt along the sore spot for a moment that seemed to go on for a small eternity, before finally saying, "No. Or, if it is, I can't tell under the dust."

Ed breathed out in relief. "Awesome."

Heymans snorted. "Well, if Ed's not in danger of bleeding to death, assuming we're clear for a while, we can probably take a short supper break."

"Reasonable," Roy decided.

"Good, I'm starved," Heymans declared, before there came a rush of air as he moved. "I'm going to check where Kain is with that radio."

"Find out if we're safe enough to poke a couple of holes in this shelter," Riza called after him.

"You can head out yourself, if you're finding it hard to breathe," Ed muttered, hopefully quiet enough that she wouldn't be able to wholly understand him.

Roy snorted. "I believe Riza means for when everyone returns to eat."

Riza sighed.

Ed rolled his eyes and reached out, ensuring he knew where Roy was, then carefully leant over so he could rest one of the less achy parts of his head against his shoulder.

Roy's arm came up around him, careful and protective in a way that Ed hadn't had before Havoc had found him months ago, half dead in the ditch the military had thrown him in when they realised he wouldn't be controlled. "Don't fall asleep," he murmured.

"Not gonna."

Roy snorted, but then there was a light pressure to the top of his head, and Ed knew he'd been kissed. Their own little secret in the dark that pretty much everyone in their group knew about, but no one would ever say anything; life on the run was too hard for anyone to give a damn what they did with each other in those rare moments they could catch together, curled together in the cramped, dark tunnels that kept them safe.

Ed closed his eyes, even though his visibility wouldn't change. Still, it might help a little with the throbbing of his head, and he needed that to go away.

Soon, the others would return, and they'd all eat the tasteless travel rations. Maybe they'd get one of the other teams on the radio, check in about the tank movements, get new orders from the camp. Maybe they wouldn't, and then they'd just keep going, hitting the military teams they found outside their strong walls.

Maybe, one day, they'd find a way inside, and Ed would be able to rescue his brother. Or, maybe, they'd meet outside the walls, and Ed would risk everything to steal him back, would spend weeks and months doing everything in his power to fix whatever horrible things the military had done to Al.

One day, he'd have his brother back. But, until then, at least he had some people who he knew had his back. Someone who would make sure he was taking care of himself, who Ed could take care of in turn.

He was alive, and he wasn't alone; that was something worth fighting for.

.