for a drabble prompt: i rly like the thought of mustang trying to get ed and al to play chess w him as as a bonding activity. u decide the level of success in this endeavor
Alphonse sleeps the first few days. He doesn't eat much- his body has been in critical survival mode for so long, it only takes the tiniest morsel to fill him. They give him an IV of fluids to restore that end of it. Edward has to go under the knife a few times due to internal injuries (also getting stabbed through the arm isn't great, either) and almost immediately doctors urge him to go into physical therapy for his remade arm.
Despite the vast difference between their injuries and needs, Edward pays the extra to make sure they're roomed together, and he's the only one Alphonse trusts to cut his hair for the first time in four years.
He's cleaning up the last of the tresses when there's a solid knock on the door, followed almost immediately by Riza's head poking inside. She looks strange all gauzed up like she is. "May we come in?"
"They're letting you two wander around?" Edward asked, a bit surprised. "Didn't you, like, almost die?"
"Don't we always?" she returns, holding the door open. Roy shuffles in. One hand feels the side of the doorway while the other is clutched around his favorite chess board.
Alphonse smiles. "Hi, Lieutenant, Colonel. It's nice to see you."
"They're bumping me up to General, actually," Roy replies, almost absentmindedly. "Gotta admit, it's weird to hear your voice without an echo, Al. How're you healing?"
"They think I'll be able to start physical therapy soon, so I think it's going pretty good. I got to have a bun yesterday for lunch. It was delicious."
"Nah. I want to sit down at a table for that."
Mustang followed his voice as they spoke, pointedly feeling for the edge of Edward's bed as he passed. The boy imagined he'd probably clonked a knee or two on Hawkeye's by now. He sat down and set the chess board in front of Al with a purpose.
"Oh, god," Edward said, realizing. "This again, Colonel?"
"Shut up. I have a good reason this time."
"We already know how to play chess, Colonel," Alphonse chipped in. Mustang had tried that one before.
"Well, I don't know how to play it blind. And I bet your body isn't exactly calibrated for accuracy, yeah? This could be good for both of us."
"Why not play with the Lieutenant?" Edward asked, watching as she casually sat in a visitor's chair.
Hawkeye snorted. "Because he throws a fit if I move. It took me an hour just for him to decide it was okay for me to escort him here."
"Chess," Roy asserts, stabbing his index into the board. "We're playing." He pauses, then awkwardly says, "If you help me set up I'll help you with your military dismissal forms."
"Ugh, fine." Ed shifted out of bed with a grumble. "Who'da thunk becoming a dog would require I entertain an old man."