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Migraines had a silly way of sneaking up on a person, waiting for the most inopportune moment, the most inappropriate interval to strike. The headache Roy could tolerate. The blurry vision and insidious nausea was another matter. He couldn't make heads or tails of the words that insisted in wriggling across the paper, pulsing in time with the waves of pain engaged in a flanking maneuver. All in all, it was a perfectly timed bodily attack to ensure he failed to prepare adequately for tomorrow. There were intercepted communications to digest, reconnaissance reports to lay out, military precedent to consider…

"You look like you swallowed leftovers from the mess."

Interruptions. He was to be plagued with interruptions. Even ones that still managed to carry a hint of cologne through blood and smoke were an irritation. Roy looked up, waited for his traitorous vision to catch up with him, and frowned. "Headache. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I am sure there is something you should be doing."

"Actually, there is."

With a sigh of relief Roy returned his attention to the scrawled note in front of him.

It came as a surprise when he realized Maes' footsteps were advancing not retreating. Even more so, it was utterly unexpected that a hand should come to rest at the nape of his neck. "Maes…"

"Convince me that you were having a productive time of it just now." There was a dare in Maes' voice, a challenge Roy was usually rather hard pressed to meet, much less end up victorious over. Thinking through his migraine had gained a slogging through thick mud sort of appeal, and Roy had no illusions as to how he would make out in a bout of verbal sparring against Maes. Thinking became impossible as Maes started working at the knotted mess that was the muscles at the base of Roy's neck.

"Bastard." Roy drawled, mostly to keep any of the contented and embarrassingly pleased sounds dancing around the back of his throat from slipping free. Maes laughed, added a second hand to the assault, and Roy politely ignored the kiss that somehow made its way onto the top of his head.

Maybe Maes would be willing to help make sense of the reports on the table.

As soon as he was done rubbing.