Ed woke up curled into a warm shoulder, a strong arm draped over his side, and the first thing he thought was I don't know how I ended up in a bed with Armstrong, but I really hope Al can explain it to me.
Then the smell of strong perfume assaulted his nostrils, and he blinked a few times and lifted his head.
"Edward. Good morning," Hohenheim said, his hair spilling over his shoulder and wrapping around his chin. He smiled gently.
"... Dad," Ed murmured, curling up against his father's shoulder again, bleakly. "My head hurts ..."
"You drank a little too much last night," Hohenheim spoke softly. The arm draped over his side shifted, and Ed felt fingers brushing his cheekbone, pressing his hair back over his ear. "You'll be a little unsteady today, but the feeling will pass with some sleep."
"Ugh." Ed's head pounded with each pulse, but Hohenheim's voice was too soft to make it worse. His mouth felt dry. Intellectually Ed knew that the 'hangover' from drinking too much was caused by dehydration, but it hurt too much to think it through. "I need—"
"Water," Hohenheim finished for him. Ed's father pressed closer, until Edward was almost smothered against his bare chest. Ed swallowed a groan. The smell was too strong, and he didn't want to think about death. But his father pulled back again, and pressed something cool against his throat. "I brought a glass up earlier. Here, sit up." Hohenhiem shifted, and sat up fully in the bed.
Ed was having a hard time even getting his real limbs to work properly, and his mechanical arm refused to cooperate. After fighting to sit up properly for a couple of moments, though, his father wrapped a gentle arm around Edward's shoulder and pulled him up gently. "... Ow," Ed whispered, holding his temple with his flesh hand.
"I know." Ed saw Hohenheim's lips quirk into something like an amused look, and Ed glared at him. Hohenhiem just smiled gently and pressed the glass to Ed's lips. "Hold this, and drink as much of it as you can," he murmured.
Ed took the glass after a moment and gulped down the water; it was a cool burst in his mouth and left him breathless. "More," he gasped, proffering the glass to his father.
Hohenheim looked too amused for his own good. "Of course," he replied, slipping out of the bed covers and reaching for the indoor robe he kept next to his bed. "Did you have any appointments today?"
Ed thought for a moment, while his father put on his robe. It seemed to take far too much effort to remember what day it was, much less if he'd scheduled anything with the scientists in the area. "... no," he said at length.
"Good." Edward's father leaned down to look his son in the eyes. "Then I won't have to cancel anything for you." He took the glass from Ed's fingers. "Edward ..."
Ed just looked at his father. They shared the same eyes, the same hair, and a level of intelligence ... and sometimes, Ed felt far too much like he was his father's son. "Thanks," Ed said, mostly to break the silence that had fallen.
"Of course," Hohenheim answered softly. He leaned up, and if anyone but Edward had been watching, they may not have noticed the brief hesitation before Ed's father reached up and gently kissed his son's forehead. "I'll be right back up." With that, he stood and strode from the room, empty glass in hand.
Ed drew up his flesh knee and rested his pounding head against it.
Maybe the alcohol wasn't the only thing causing this headache.