Another (the only other) snippet! This one's set in part three as well, a little (but not much) after If Roy Was A Dragon... . Tentatively titled In Which Alphonse Is Precise XD Thanks to everyone for reading, and especially to those who took the time to review! Always much love, and I hope you enjoy!! 3

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Roy wasn't surprised when his secretary's startled shout was succeeded by his door slamming open to reveal a very angry Alphonse Elric, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to this conversation any more.

"It's alright, Elaine." He called through to the outer office without taking his eye off Alphonse. People had always been wary of Ed, whose anger (existence) was loud and quite often literally explosive, but Roy had long known that Alphonse was far more dangerous; his anger was quiet, but inescapably, very precisely fatal. "Would you get some coffee for us? Alphonse has his strong, black, no sugar, if I recall correctly?" Alphonse didn't answer; Roy wasn't really surprised by that, either.

"Of course, sir." Elaine said, though she made no immediate move to do so, her eyes flicking uncertainly between them. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine, Elaine. Thank you." After another brief hesitation, she nodded, once, and left. The click of the door shutting behind her echoed around them like – ha – a trap closing. "Alphonse –"

"What did you do?" Alphonse didn't move from the doorway, stood pale and not shaking and very precisely quiet, and Roy thought he should be glad the boy – man – hadn't lunged across the room as soon as they were free of witnesses. All he could feel was a numb kind of cold.

"Alphonse–"

"No." Ed's voice would have broken on the emotion condensed into that one word, but Alphonse's was steady, calm, sharp like a needle point. "You don't get to do this, not to him. What did you do?"

What did he do? In terms of action, not very much; he'd talked to Ed, listened to him, sat drunk with him in a bar and wondered how the hell the sick light had managed to look so delicious on Ed's skin. In terms of verbs, a great deal that neither brother needed to know; he'd watched (been mesmerised by) Ed, he'd dreamed of Ed, for far longer and far more often than he dared admit even to himself. He'd had to stop himself from leaning over their sticky table and tasting –

He said, "Nothing in particular, actually." and held up a hand to forestall the imminent precision flashing in Alphonse's eyes. "But I do believe I know why you're concerned. Would you like to talk?"

For a moment, he thought the answer was actually going to be no, that Alphonse would simply step forward and crush his head between his palms like he'd never stopped being a seven foot high suit of armour ("an' I didn't even do that very well, did I, 'cause he had these – nightmares –"). But then Alphonse let out a harsh breath (like vomiting) and all the violence just – went, abandoned him to the slump of his own shoulders and the weight of his own head in the doorway, the bruises like bruises under his eyes.

"Sit down." And Alphonse once again proved himself different from his brother, near-dragged himself across the room and sunk into one of the chairs in front of Roy's desk without a word. He didn't take his eyes off Roy, but where Ed would have been glaring or suspicious, Alphonse just looked... tired, and maybe a little relieved. "I didn't do anything to your brother." He ignored the insidious unfortunately that he couldn't quite stop himself thinking. "We talked. I mentioned that I'd noticed how unsettled he's been since you came back to Central, and he left. Last night, he called me.."

"Called–? He – you?"

Roy inclined his head in a suggestion of a nod; the confused hurt in Alphonse's voice made anything more feel like scraping sandpaper through an open wound. "I believe he felt guilty for leaving, and... he wouldn't want to upset you."

Alphonse went very still.

"It's about me?"

"... Yes and no." Roy said –

– and a light knock preceded Elaine into the office, holding two steaming cups in one hand. Alphonse shrunk into himself as she placed them on the desk, and the light double-tap of porcelain on wood felt like shots in the silence.

Roy waited several moments after the door had shut behind her again, took a sip of his coffee, continued. "He spent a lot of time thinking of nothing but your wellbeing, you know that; now that he doesn't have to, I believe he feels at a loss for what to do."

"But." Alphonse said, and they really did look alike when their eyes went wide and pained like that. Then, "I don't – why couldn't he tell me? Doesn't he think I'd understand? I was there, maybe I was armour but I was still me, I'm not a child that doesn't understand, I never was –"

In a murmur, "You know he only wants to protect you, Alphonse."

"I don't need protecting!" Alphonse screamed without raising his voice at all, and he didn't jump up from the chair but clutched at the cushions, knuckles strained white. "You say he's been unsettled since we came back but he was weird before that, before he even got my body back. I thought it was just – I made him promise that he wouldn't sacrifice himself for me, I didn't want anything if it meant losing him, but after... it was like he was surprised, like he'd never planned to actually..." He trailed off, but Roy didn't really need him to elaborate; Ed had always been willing to do anything for his brother, however that meant using his own life. "I never said anything," Alphonse rushed on, like maybe he didn't want to listen to those words in the silence any more than Roy did, "because I didn't want to fight about it and I was so – angry – but it was over with, he'd gotten me back and we were both fine and that was it, all we ever wanted. Why does he have to be so – so difficult?" But his anger had already deflated on the last word, pierced by the guilt of his own thoughts.

Roy fought a sigh. "Alphonse." He said. "It's one of his most charming qualities."

Alphonse laughed, sudden and sharp and startled, which had been Roy's intention; he hadn't intended that look that crept up into Alphonse's eyes when he stopped.

Abruptly, Alphonse said, "He called you." and something about the tone sunk, heavy and ashen, in Roy's stomach. Everyone thought Ed was the one to watch out for, but Roy knew better...

And as much as every instinct told him to lie, Roy had already admitted to this; "Yes." he said, and hoped Alphonse couldn't hear the dryness of his mouth, throat, guts scuffing over the word.

"He talked to you."

"That is generally what happens when one person calls another, yes." Roy said, and felt a flutter of memory

("Unless you would like to sit here in silence listening to one another breathe?" and a little catch of breath at the other end of the line. A tiny, soft, barely-audible catch of breath that reminded him of what he'd woken up from, of what he'd finished after hanging up the phone, of what he shouldn't have thought of but did; the sound of Ed and the taste of Ed and god the look of Ed, head thrown back and hands clenched tight and mouth open, panting, letting out that little catch of breath)

that was the very worst thing he could be remembering with Alphonse watching him like that.

A moment, and then, without a trace of actual questioning, "Did you mind?"

"Mind?" Roy repeated before he'd even thought – and then realised that it hadn't occurred to him that he might, that he probably should.

And he saw Alphonse realise it, too, had to bite his cheek to stop his mouth twisting up into any other expression but whatever was already on his face. Dammit.

"Alphonse –" He didn't know what he was going to say – or, rather, didn't know how he was supposed to say I swear I would never do anything, please for the love of all male anatomy everywhere, don't tell Ed without it sounding exactly as it sounded – but Alphonse interrupted him anyway, rising from his chair with a little hop, for fuck's sake, and a smile that had forgotten he'd come into the office to gut him, felt like he'd been gutted.

"Thanks for listening, Colonel – Minister – sir. Ed would never say it, but I'm sure he appreciates it, too; I'm sure if you gave him something to do, he'd start feeling much better. Thanks again!"

And he left.

And Roy stared after him. Then he took a slow, half-dazed sip of coffee – and promptly choked on it, because he realised what that look meant when Alphonse said something to do.