#sick ed

[feverhalo]

"God, he's shaking really badly again-" Roy brushed back the stringy bangs off Ed's face. "I don't know of its just chills or a seizure."

Ed's shaking arm flailed above the blanket. His hand gripped at the fabric covering his body, his face and chest, and Roy's sleeve in succession. Hughes walked over and put down the fresh cup of cold water on the nightstand. With one hand on Roy's shoulder, he reached forward to cup Ed's cheek. Feeling for a fever, the young man's unshaved face prickled Hughe's hand as Ed searched out the cool relief.

"Just fever, I think," Hughes patted Roy's shoulder as he straightened. "He's coordinated enough."

"'M right her-" Ed choked out and started another round of hacking coughs.

His ribs felt bruised as they were already. The combination of the damp air from the storm, the scratchy bed linens, and the fever making his skin hypersensitive was agony.

He was vaguely aware that he was being hefted into a sitting position with something shoved into hos lap, and a cold hand on the back ofnhis neck pushing his head down. A strong hand whacked on his back in time with the coughing, aching horribly but helping the shit in his lungs rattle up.

The fit died down as they all had been for a while, with Ed so weak, limp, and shaky he could barely keep his head out of the combined mess of sweat, sick, and mucous that he had heaved and choked up.

Another cold cloth ran over his face, and then a clean wet towel was pressed to his cracked lips. It was squeezed and fresh water dripped down his chin while he tried to stomach enough of it to stay hydrated in this hell-haze.

"I fuckin' hate thunderstorms. You goddamn assholes and your fuckin clouds-"

"Ed, relax. Your voice is so wrecked you barely make sense." Hughes was the one lowering him back down this time. "I'd hate the rain too if I were you."

--

This is the fic to that ask i just posted. Im on mobile. In bed. At 4 am. Just. Typin away lol. Mobile tumblr is a hot mess so pls forgive the formatting and such i was trying to paste this onto the asl but it wouldn't let me. :/

Thanks @unholygrass for your ask! This was fun to write.

[feverhalo]

Fma whump idea; ed getting chicken pox and needing his automail arm slinged because he has spots under the casing. They need to get him to minimize movement to minimize accidental scratching and infection. It is hell.

[feverhalo]

idea #2: an FMAB fic where everyone thinks Ed has the cold that went around the office and is unsympathetic to his whining/sulking until he spikes a fever and Hughes brings him into Mustang's office like "i found him confusedly trying to break into my office thinking it was yours and he's burning up and needs to go home and also shame on you for making him work like this" and roy is like "i dIDN'T KNOW"

“Fine. I’m going for a walk,” Ed slammed his chair back into position under his desk. He had been fighting what felt like a migraine for hours. His whole body ached and his head hurt so much he felt sick, but Mustang kept prodding him, telling him to grow up and deal with the cold ‘like a soldier’. Despite the extra layers and his coat and mountains of tissues. Ed felt awful and the office noise exacerbated it to unbearable levels.

“Take your attitude with you, Fullmetal.” Mustang flipped his page over and scratched out another line in his report. He barely spared a thought to Ed and Al as the two made their way out.

Hours later, after Al had returned and Roy brushed off the whole situation as a tantrum, Hughes’ fist slammed on the door like a thunderous God brought to existence. 

Ed hung limp at Hughes’ side, pale and wheezing and confused. Hughes was red in the face, starting and stopping several times before belting out-

“Roy, you really screwed it this time.” 

The tone was so ominous and strict, the office silenced in a moment. Mustang glanced up and Al’s shocked gasp was enough to tear into his heart. Ed was flushed, sweaty, and his eyes were lolling from side to side while the poor boy gripped for his life onto Maes’ arm.

“He’s half delirious and knocking on my office door,” the stern father voice cracker a wave of cold shame over Roy’s head. Hughes helped Ed to sit and brushed the young man’s sweaty bangs from his face and helped him find a stable position. “Looking for you of all people. Why on this earth he would, given what he’s been rambling about I have no idea.”

“Maes…” Roy faltered. Alphonse ran towards his brother, and Roy could feel the office air go stagnant as nobody dared speak. “I-”

“You? What, weren’t thinking? Weren’t listening? Were too high on your own pedestal?” Hughes stopped, heaved a heavy sigh before taking a deep breath and leveling a look at Mustang. “I’m disappointed. But, not surprised, I guess. Take a minute and consider what people are sacrificing for you before you brush them off. I know you’ve got a fire under your ass, but he’s a kid, Roy.”

Mustang felt the shame flood him like a heady wave of drink. He was nearly dizzy himself with the flood of embarrassment.

“Thank you Lieutenant,” Roy felt his voice falter despite pulling rank. “I will think on your suggestions.”

“You better, Roy.” Huges leveled a look. Ed laid his head down on his folded arms as the door slammed behind a furious Maes Hughes.

“Serves you right, y’bastard.”

[the-heart-made-fullmetal]

Tis the season. @automailexpert

There was an abrupt sound coming from upstairs. Coughing, it echoed off the walls of the hallway and trailed faintly into the living room. The noise continued for some time, before eventually quieting. In a room not too far down the hall a single, white door stood lightly cracked open. From inside something rustled.

Under a large, thick, comforter something tossed and turned on a bed in the corner of the room. The figure struggled with the blankets before becoming still. There was another fit of coughing that emanated from under the blankets, and a pitiful groan followed.

Blond hairs messily lay out along the pillows. Ed slid the covers from his face, and sighed heavily. Tissues were scattered about the bed, and along the floor. The alchemist sniffled, and stared blankly up at the ceiling. Two golden eyes were glazed with exhaustion. He drowsily blinked a few times, then slowly rolled onto his side. His throat was on fire, and his head pounding. He could hardly swallow without wincing. The ever rising fever kept him covered in blankets from time to time.

The wind tapped at the window to the right. Autumn was still showering the hillside of Resembool, leaving the once lush green horizon a dead barren texture. It was usual for him to feel sickly during this season, but he only came down with something this bad on rare occasions. His dull eyes were fixed on the window, as he lay weak and helpless under the comforting blankets.