Babysteps

By: Song

Summary: A prank and some words taken out of context land Ed with a panicked and dangerous Roy Mustang.

A/U: I've been binging on h/c paternal!RoyxEd for the past few days and the idea came. "T" for themes.

This wasn't originally written as a M/M- but, looking back I can understand how it could be seen that way. Take it as you will, see if I care.

BY NO WAY AM I TO BE CONSIDERED AN EXPERT ON THE SUBJECT OF PTSD AND/OR RELATED DISORDERS SUCH AS PANIC ATTACKS AND DEPRESSION. THIS FIC IS BASED OFF OF RESEARCH AND PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.

"COLONEL BASTARD! I've got a report for you!" Ed yelled as he barged into the apartment. "Not that you didn't already know that..." He grumbled. It was after hours, but Mustang had been clear that the report was to be turned in as soon as he finished the mission. Plus, it was another way to piss the bastard off- handing in a report in the office closed. He hadn't even bothered to shower yet.

Maybe he's out...?

That bastard! Mustang knew that he was coming in! And he turned in for an early night?

Hesitantly he knocked on the door to Mustang's bedroom. He really did not want to walk in on something. About to leave convinced that no one was home a slight whimper caught his attention.

"Colonel?" Ed asked as he carefully opened the door.

"Colonel?" He repeated

The bed and its inhabitant were quiet.

An evil, genius idea began to form in Ed's head.

If the bastard was sleeping... why not just wake him up?

It was his fault he had fallen asleep after all. He should have been expecting him. And it wasn't that late.

At times like this that Ed's age became most apparent. He was a teenager. Teenagers liked overstepping bounds.

Ed was definitely overstepping bounds.

Carefully as to not make a sound Edward moved to the kitchen, transmuted (well out of earshot of the bedroom) a bucket and turned on the faucet.

He grinned manically. Just let that bastard even think of sleeping again while he was out doing all sorts of dirty work. Muffling a snicker the small alchemist snuck over to the side of the bed, bucket poised menacingly above the man- and poured.

Mustang awoke instantly making a frantic grab for a lone glove that had been unnoticed on the nightstand.

"S-stay back! I'm warning you!" His voice was an octave higher than usual. The colonel was backed up against the wall, trembling and ready to snap. One wrong move and the entire apartment complex would go up in flames- along with everyone inside it.

Al's echoing voice resonated within his head. 'He's having a panic attack, brother.'

"God Al, even when not here you're getting me out of a mess!" He chuckled.

"Get away from me!" If the situation weren't so dire Ed might have laughed at how pathetic he sounded.

'Try and calm him down.' The disembodied mind-Al stated.

Ed smiled to himself. Figures his inner-voice-of-reason would be Al's. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

'I dunno, I'm only a meta-physical representation of reason!' The mind-Al began to cry.

"Dammit." He whispered. That was just his luck. Get caught up with the bastard having a panic attack and cause his mind-Al to to get hurt feelings. How the hell did a figment of his imagination get hurt feelings anyway?

He assessed the situation as well as what he knew about the man before him. A single word distinguished itself.

Ishbal.

Mustang was a veteran of the Ishbalan uprising. Mustang probably thought he was in Ishbal.

Some of the things he had read about the war raced through his head. 'Massacre', 'blood bath' and 'Armageddon' were among them.

The younger alchemist took as non-menacing of a step forward as he could. The Flame Alchemist scooted back. His charcoal eyes were wide with fear while the sheen of sweat shone distinctly on his pale face. A gloved hand was held out in what he knew to be a precursor of a massive explosion.

Ed held his hands up in the non-threatening 'Don't Shoot' position.

"Easy Mustang-"

"I-I'm warning you! DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"

"I'm not going to hurt you." He spoke slowly, calmly in contrast with the desperate man while kneeling to his level. (The irony was not lost on him.)

"Put the glove down, Colonel." He spoke in a respectful but firm tone while using the title that in any lesser situation would have been sarcastic or condescending.

He looked from the glove to Ed, and back again.

"Roy, Put the glove down." Edward could practically see the wheels turning in his head, the decision being weighed heavily.

It was a tense minuet before his hand was lowered. Ever so carefully Edward removed the glove imbued with transmutation circle. The imposing figure that he knew to be Roy Mustang had been reduced to a sobbing, soaked mess by an idiotic prank.

He forgot that Roy Mustang was twice his age. He forgot that Roy Mustang was the Flame alchemist. He even forgot that he was his superior officer. First and foremost he was a man- and a man that was broken, in need of help. As an alchemist that be thou for the people, Ed determined this hurting man needed him.

It was his duty- as he had started the whole ordeal. It was time he stepped up and took responsibility like the adult he professed to be.

And he found himself holding his crying superior officer.

Despite his bafflement at the situation, Ed found himself trying desperately to remember and emulate what his mother had done when he or Al had woken from a nightmare in need of comfort. The time he stand as the adult he professed was now.

"Just listen to my voice." He said in a low steady voice, pulling the man's head onto his chest. His mind was screaming 'Awkward!' while his heart (and mind-Al) were screaming 'God Ed, don't be such a heartless bastard and help the poor man!' Eventually his heart won out. "Listen to my heart beat. Hear me breathing. Feel how steady they are, and try to emulate it... relax... that's right..."

Quiet whispers of 'its all over now's and 'its gonna be okay's were told to the shivering form.

After a painfully long hour under Ed's calm ministrations Mustang's breathing slowed. His eyes were closed and he was no longer hyperventilating. Color began to return to his face, and he spoke. "Thank you, Fullmetal..." Normally confident and boastful the Colonel's voice was now weak and raw with strain.

They sat like that for a long time, neither speaking or moving. After a thunderous silence Edward gave into curiosity and asked the question that had been plaguing him since he had gained control of the situation.

"How did you ever deal with it?"

"Babysteps Edward." He sighed, looking far older than his thirty years. "Babysteps."

Fin