Work Text:
The Madame was the name of a squat two-story building nestled on a corner of a road.
It was down a winding sideroad, close enough to the main road but hidden away. Made entirely out of the same grey stone that dominated most of the older buildings in Central City, The Madame had very few windows on the first floor when compared to the arched windows that occupied the one above it. Although, in comparison to other surrounding establishments, the signage surrounding the heavy door wasn’t as paint-chipped or uncared for. Due to the overall appearance, it looked very much like a pub…
Except, to Alphonse, that didn’t make much sense.
The location of The Madame wasn’t the best sort of place to drum up business. It was a bright afternoon and the narrow street had very little foot traffic. Nobody but Al, Ed, and Roy seemed to be traipsing all the way down here at this time of day. Maybe it was busier later in the day?
Al was about to ask Roy exactly that and if this was the place they were going to when the man unintentionally derailed him. The lieutenant colonel walked straight past the heavy wooden door of The Madame. The boy tried to peer around Roy to catch a glimpse of Ed, only to find that his sibling was preoccupied with looking elsewhere to catch Al’s questioning glance.
"This way, boys,’’ Roy cajoled, his hands lightly squeezing the little fingers linked with his own.
The two brothers had their hands captured by Roy three blocks ago when crossing a road, and neither of them had let go since. Al liked it. Roy’s hands were like his hugs: warm and all-encompassing. Even when ignition cloth weaponized those hands, touch and actions remained gentle and welcoming, nothing changed. Not that Roy wearing the gloves - or his uniform for that matter - altered anything. This was evident right now; the man had returned a good two hours earlier from work, a happy surprise, and got changed into his typical smart-casual attire before they left.
Roy wanted to make them feel included and, instead of going by himself to get some important papers regarding his status as their guardian, invited them along. Ed had been pleased but conflicted: pleased at being involved in such important business, yet uneasy due to a mix of things. The key contender was actually going out and not the adoption itself; the city was still something to get used to and, while the earplugs helped on occasion, Al could see his brother teetering between moments of avoidance and being his typical self.
Still, Al eyed their joined hands, silently noting how Roy didn’t seem to mind them keeping a tight grip on his larger hands. If anything, the Flame Alchemist smiled happily at Al each time looked up to talk to him. The same warm smile was aimed at Edward, too. Al had seen Roy absently smiling and looking down at his oblivious brother more than once.
The fact Ed hadn’t yanked his hand away the moment they had crossed a road spoke volumes. Al wanted to say it surprised him, but it didn’t. For as long as he could remember, it had always been Ed who had snatched hold of Al and Mom’s hands at any given opportunity.
Besides, ever since brother’s sensory meltdown, things had changed.
Ed wasn’t clingy. Not really. He was just… more tactile with Roy than he’d originally been. Al had grown more settled upon witnessing that change. Many thought that due to Ed’s stand-offish behavior meant that he had an aversion towards physical affection when, in reality, Alphonse knew that his brother was simply selective with who he allowed close, be it emotionally or physically.
"What is this place?’’ Ed asked when they rounded the building.
Yeah. Al wanted to know that, too. Worn cobbles had tapered off into dusty gravel when they stepped through a wide entryway and into a small courtyard near the back of the building. It wasn’t much to look at; the two parked cars coupled with a stack of wooden crates and barrels told Al enough about the purpose of the walled yard. It was a place for parking and deliveries, tucked away from the street by a crumbling brick wall.
"A pub?’’ Al guessed aloud.
For a fleeting moment, Roy looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. He recovered quickly with a cough. "Yeah, kid,’’ he hastened to agree. "A pub. That is exactly what it is.’’
"Is this where we are meetin’ your mama?’’ Ed asked as they walked, gravel crunching under their feet. "Why didn’t we go through the front door?’’
Roy smirked. "Because this is also where Māma lives.’’
Māma. Roy said the word with a slight lilt that was different to the way Ed and, in turn, Al would’ve said it. It was spoken the same way when Roy let slip foreign words that Al suspected was Xingese. Like, yesterday when Roy had walked by the living room, affectionately fluffed up Al’s hair and called him, ‘‘Xiǎohǔ zǎi’’. Or, earlier in the week when Ed got caught sneaking an extra potato off Roy’s plate during dinner, and the man’s tone was pure fondness when he shook his head and exhaled, "Xiǎo húlí.’’
Alphonse didn’t know Xingese beyond the interesting squiggly writing that sat snugly next to the Amestrian translation in few of the take-out menus in the kitchen drawer. However, he didn’t think Roy was saying anything mean. The way he said it sounded much softer, much gentler than anything else he called them. Softer than ‘kid’, ‘shortstack’, or even ‘munchkin’. Al was curious, though. He liked learning new things. He needed to ask next time those rare words cropped up again. For now, however, he had more pressing questions to ask…
"Is… is she nice?’’ he couldn’t help but ask. This was Roy’s Mama – well, not really. Roy had explained his Aunt Chris had raised him after he lost his parents, and that was that. No further details were given beyond that and, for now, that was fine.
"Ah.’’ Roy seemed to need a moment to find the right words. "She might not seem like it,’’ he warned, "but she is very nice.’’
Al didn’t need to look towards Ed to know that answer wasn’t good at calming their jittery nerves. Roy trudged towards a stone staircase with wrought iron railings that was wedged by the side of the pub. Before they began their ascent up to the black door that must’ve led into a private dwelling, Roy seemed to pick up on their moods. The dark-haired male slowed his steps as they neared the front door, lightly squeezing their hands as he gauged them carefully.
"And she’s very excited to meet you both,’’ Roy added, sounding as genuine and he looked confident.
Ed made a low, dubious sort of noise.
"It’ll just be us three, plus Māma and Vanessa.’’
There was something nice about hearing that continued term. Māma. It was familial. Al knew he wasn’t alone in how that term of address made things easier in meeting Chris Mustang. The link to Roy let them know that she was his family and that meant she could be trusted. That in itself was enough to keep Al’s heart from hammering right out of his chest.
Did he look okay? Would she like him? What if Ed, who’d only temporarily stuffed his earplugs in during the noisy trolley ride, got overwhelmed? Would Chris tell Roy that she didn’t want them joining the family? Would Vanessa – that Roy said was one of his sisters – snatch away the adoption paperwork Al and Ed were here to see as she told Roy not to bother? What if –
Roy’s hand slipped away from Alphonse’s own.
A small sound escaped from Al’s throat, his stomach twisting with nerves, until he realized Roy was knocking his knuckles against the door. As briefly as that hand had let go of Al’s hand, it returned. The boy sucked in a breath and straightened himself up, hoping to give a good first impression as he heard a slide of a chain and a click of one or two locks.
The door swung open and revealed a heavyset older woman with the same hair color and complexion as Roy. She wore a low-cut plum-colored dress and heavy jewelry. Al blinked up at her, slightly awed. The lady dressed as if she was going out for a night at the opera or a really, really, swanky dinner…
And Alphonse felt incredibly underdressed in comparison. He smoothed a hand down the front of his new sweater, removing invisible creases, and hyperaware that half of Ed’s shirt collar poked out from his sweater. Al’s fingers twitched with anxiousness.
"Roy-boy,’’ was the woman’s greeting.
"Māma,’’ Roy softly replied.
So, this was Chris. Al watched her incline her head a tiny bit before her gruff-looking face shifted, her lips ticking upward. She smirked just like Roy did yet, when her sharp eyes shifted to Ed and Al, her expression drastically softened. Chris smiled at them and Al felt a knot within his chest loosen.
"Ed and Al, right?’’ she said. "My Roy’s boys.’’
Alphonse was flattered and flustered at words, his need to portray a good first impression increasing. He really didn’t know what to call her. Ms. Mustang? Chris? Or Aunt Chris, like Al had overheard from Riza or Roy? Instead, he settled with stuttering out a polite hello, his nerves getting the best of him when Chris continued to smile at him.
Edward, on the other hand, cut straight to the chase. "Why are you dressed-up all fancy?’’
Oh. Al cringed. Sometimes his brother could be a –
Chris burst out laughing, startled and amused. "What?’’ she huffed. "Can’t a woman simply dress-up because she wants to?’’
Ed wrinkled his nose, considering.
"I think you look really nice,’’ Al chimed in, hoping to smooth any possible ruffled feathers.
"Flattery will get nowhere, sweetheart,’’ Chris sounded gruff but the twinkle in her eyes made it obvious she was teasing. "Now, why don’t you three hurry up and – ’’
"Is that them?’’ another female voice, chipper in tone but not too loud, called from somewhere within the apartment.
Chris rolled her eyes as she stepped back into the narrow hall, partly to reply back to the younger woman but, mostly, to grant the trio on the doorstep entry.
"Yes, it’s just us, Nessa,’’ Roy said, sweeping both boys forward.
Al accidentally bumped shoulders with Ed as they entered, timidly following Chris’ steps. The hall wasn’t overly long; it was T-shaped and, several steps in, they had passed what looked like a generously-sized bathroom and tiny room that acted as an office. It was the office that Chris paused at to pull the door over, the desk filled to the brim with papers and receipts no longer in clear view. Not that it mattered. Al quickly found himself distracted when they meandered past a large, inviting living room filled with plush furnishings.
The apartment was made up of dark wood, lavish-looking things and knickknacks. A quick glance around as they were ushered forward made it clear that Chris’ home was much bigger than Roy’s, clearly spanning what looked like the same size as the pub it resided above. However, even if it was bigger and had some oil paintings of flowers in a gaudy ornate frame on the wall, the place felt homey. This was a place well-lived and comfortable with far more personal touches than Roy’s spartanly-furnished apartment, smelling faintly of coffee, cigarettes and perfume.
"Well, come on,’’ Vanessa beckoned from somewhere nearby.
Chris bustled her way down a small stretch of hallway that had two large doors. One door led into a decent-sized kitchen while, directly opposite the kitchen’s doorway, seemed to be a dining room and –
"Oh, look at you two,’’ Vanessa beamed.
Next to Al, Ed bristled. Al gave him a subtle nudge to behave. Vanessa was a slender woman that dressed similar to Chris; the caramel blonde hair and brown eyes coupled with her features made her look nothing like Roy or Chris. Roy had said Vanessa was one of his sisters and, belatedly, Alphonse guessed they weren’t biologically related. It was like Hughes all over again, and Al came to the conclusion that maybe this was Roy’s thing: he collected people to create a family.
A family that Roy wanted Al and Ed to be part of.
Proof of that was evident in the thick batch of papers in Vanessa’s hand and the folder that resided on the polished tabletop. After all, that’s why they were here. Roy had adoption paperwork to sign and other important documents to peruse. He’d also encouraged Ed and Al to take a look at the paperwork Chris had created, stating he wouldn’t sign anything unless they were happy.
Al already was happy as he could be, even if he missed his mother dearly. Roy helped in so many ways. Riza, too. Same with Hughes and his wife Gracia in their own ways as they dropped off an array of casserole dishes. Team Mustang – a hodgepodge of males that were hard to not gravitate towards – had only recently entered the mix, but they were wonderful. Already, Alphonse had more people – more family – than he ever thought possible and it was astonishing.
Plus, all those grown-ups were a good support system. Each of them, in their own ways, and filled part of the gaping hole the loss of Mom had created. Al didn’t think that spot would ever be filled, but these people made it possible that he wasn’t crying every five seconds.
"Well,’’ Vanessa continued, standing up straight. "Introductions?’’
"Boys, meet Nessa,’’ Roy drawled. "She’s one of my sisters I’ve told you about.’’
"I’m the best sister,’’ Vanessa corrected. "You see that sleek, shiny hair and clear skin on Roy’s big head? That’s my achievement. I’m the one who taught him that. I doubt anyone would’ve looked twice at him, least of all that gorgeous woman that is his lieut-’’
"Nessa,’’ the Flame Alchemist swiftly cut-in, determined to finish introductions. "Allow me to introduce you to Alphonse, my youngest.’’ Roy planted a hand on Al’s shoulder. "And Edward..’’ he dropped his other hand on top of Ed’s head "…my shortest.’’
"Hey!’’ Ed yipped. "I ain’t short. I’m growing. I’m the big brother –’’
"Ignore him, Ed. You’re taller than Roy was at your age,’’ Chris informed, clearly amused.
That seemed to make Ed brighten, and Al smiled. Vanessa let loose a light tinkling laugh that was infectious. Slowly, Al felt himself relax. He liked these people. One was Roy’s Māma and the other was his sister, and they seemed so nice. Even Ed wasn’t doing his typical skittish cat-like behavior when around new people, treating the two women the same way he did when meeting Havoc, Falman, Fuery and Breda the first time.
"Really?’’ Ed asked, edging closer to Chris.
Chris stretched an arm out and gently draped an arm around Ed. "Really, really,’’ she said, moving him towards the dining table. "I’ve got the pictures to prove it.’’
"And I’ve got all the stories,’’ Vanessa mock-whispered. "Like the time he was thirteen and began stuffing newspapers into his school shoes to give him an extra two inches of height.’’
"Alright, that’s enough,’’ Roy grumbled.
Fighting the urge to laugh, Al asked. "Did you really do that?’’
Roy pulled a face. "Of course, not.’’
"Liar,’’ Chris fired back at Roy as she absently pulled out two chairs. She waved a hand at Ed, offering one of the seats before reaching for Al. The two gold rings she had on that hand brushed the back of Al’s neck when she guided him into the other chair. "Roy did plenty of stupid things like that, Al. If he tells you otherwise, you come to me or Vanessa. We’ll set things straight.’’
"Or not-so-straight depending on the story,’’ Vanessa tittered.
Roy made a strained noise at the back of his throat. "Nessa. Kids. Stop.’’
Both women laughed and Al shared a look with Ed, feeling like they were missing something. Roy glared sulkily and dropped into a chair nearest to Al at the head of the table.
"I suppose most of your blunders aren’t meant for little ears,’’ Vanessa said, pushing papers and the folder over towards Roy. "Here. Take a look at all that. You’ll find everything you need.’’
Chris leaned against the back of Ed’s chair. "It only needs your signature on several pages, Roy-boy, and you're good to go.’’
"I’ve got a – ’’ Vanessa’s pause didn’t last long, but it was there. Al noticed the way her eyes briefly darted towards him and Ed before shifting back to Roy. "A work friend. He was happy to notarize them without reading them.’’
Roy hummed, his head bowed and already flicking through the paperwork. "That’s good. Nothing else for me to do beyond sign and hand them off to Falman to file…’’ he trailed off, lifting his head to regard the boys. "Well, and for you two to read and approve, that is.’’
"It’s to adopt us, right?’’ Al triple-checked, fairly certain. Roy had explained it enough times. He just liked to check. "To make me and Brother yours?’’
"Yes, Al.’’ Roy confirmed. Thankfully, he didn’t sound exasperated by his constant need to check. Al was afraid that he’d ask one too many times and then Roy would rescind the offer. He didn’t.
"I think you’re already his even without the paper,’’ Vanessa murmured. Roy gave her a look. She ignored him. "Let’s get you three a drink. What are you two little gents having?’’
Before either of the boys could reply, Roy answered for them. "Anything without alcohol, please.’’
"She wasn’t going to mix them up an Old Fashioned or Bloody Mary,’’ Chris tsked, looking exasperated. "Honestly, Roy.’’
Vanessa flicked Roy on the ear in passing. "I take it you’ll be having some apple juice on the rocks as well?’’
"Coffee’s fine for me,’’ the lieutenant colonel answered, rubbing at his ear.
That, Al noted, made Chris’ eyebrow lift. Both he and Ed had been watching the entire exchange with a mixture of amusement and bafflement.
"You’re not even going to wet the babies’ heads?’’ Vanessa questioned. "Aren’t new fathers meant to do that?’’
"I’ll celebrate later,’’ Roy murmured as he continued to paw through the paperwork. "What I’d like to do is get these approved by the boys, completed and given to Falman before the work day is over. Plus, I’ve… I’ve got to get started on dinner. We eat around five or six.’’
Al absently nodded in agreement. They did eat dinner around that time. Over the past few weeks since they had arrived in Central, routines had developed. Roy was proving to be a stickler for evening routines of getting them fed and ready for bed. Al could recall overhearing Riza make a teasing comment to the lieutenant colonel about how Roy’s eating habits had improved.
Vanessa made a choking noise. "You mean order take-out, right?’’
"Nope,’’ Ed cheerily corrected. "The bastard means he’s gotta start burnin’ our dinner.’’
"Brother means cooking our dinner,’’ Al defended, sending Ed a look. "Breda left a recipe for a tomato and red pepper pasta dish for us.’’
Roy’s lips twisted into a wry smile. "Thanks, Al.’’
Al watched Roy’s sister let out a snort as she stifled a laugh. Vanessa didn’t hang around, slipping off towards the kitchen. The four of them could hear her laughing before the kitchen door shut behind her. Chris seemed to have better control over her amusement or she simply had other things on her mind.
"You three will be having dinner here tonight,’’ she stated.
"Mā – ’’
"You boys get started on what you need to do.’’ Chris left no room for discussion, already pushing herself off the back of Ed’s chair. "We’ll have dinner together when you’re finished and I’ll drive you three back to HQ or your home.’’
Roy still looked like he wanted to protest, but Chris stopped it by clapping a hand onto his shoulder. Al watched the exchange with curious eyes as the dark-haired duo shared a glance. It reminded him of when Riza and Roy would do that, like a single undecipherable look held a private conversation of sorts. Whatever the case, Chris headed off in the direction Vanessa had disappeared to, leaving Ed and Al with their… their… Roy.
"Alright.’’ Roy scooted his chair back a fraction. "C’mon, you two. Come here and have a look at these papers with me, will you?’’
"Do we have to?’’ Edward complained, slumping against the tabletop. "You said it’s to adopt us. It doesn’t have anythin’ else in there, does it?’’
Roy blinked. "Not necessarily. I just thought you’d want to be part of the process. Riza had suggested it. Maybe you want to check something?’’
"It hasn’t got anything about like – I dunno – that we have to eat your cooking every day, does it?’’ Ed continued. "Or that you’re gonna re-name Al as Penelope, or something?’’
"No…’’ Roy spoke slowly, puzzled. "I mean…’’ he shifted his focus on Al. "Unless Alphonse wants to become a Penelope?’’
"I don’t,’’ Al stressed, wiggling off his chair until he was standing at Roy’s side. "Brother, stop being silly and come look.’’
Ed heaved out a sigh like it was a great effort. "But I don’t need to.’’
Briefly, Al leaned on the lieutenant colonel’s thigh as he eyed the neatly typed font, official-looking seals and squiggly signatures of people unknown to him. He looked up just in time to see Roy shake his head and a grin stretch across his face. Good. Alphonse felt like the more days that went on by, the man was getting better at translating his brother’s ways. Clearly, Roy was amused and delighted at the ridiculous nature of Ed’s roundabout way of saying he trusted Roy.
Edward did shuffle closer, but not close enough to see. Al was about to snag Ed by his sleeve and tug him over until Roy slipped two hands around his waist. Suddenly, Al was lifted and perched on the man’s left thigh. He had a far better view of the paperwork from here, and Roy kept one arm curled around him while the other hand extended towards Ed. No more words had to be said, the action alone was enough, and Alphonse smiled encouragingly as Ed hopped up onto Roy’s unoccupied thigh.
"You boys’ll have to turn the pages for me,’’ Roy directed as he huddled forward, his arms curled around them both.
Al took up that duty, beyond comfortable in his current spot. They went through the bulk of the paperwork in comfortable silence. Honestly, Al didn’t understand all the legal jargon. Neither did Ed. Roy seemed to have a grasp, yet it wasn’t until they came to a page near the end that Roy spoke up.
"And you’re both okay with this – ’’ a calloused finger tapped against one paragraph that had some handwritten additions " – right?’’
The two bots leaned forward, no longer reclining comfortably against Roy’s chest. They very nearly headbutted each other in their eagerness to see and –
"Oh,’’ Al breathed.
"Mustang?’’ Ed that singular keyword aloud.
Roy shifted about a little, his legs giving a brief nervousness-induced jiggle. "Yes. Well…’’ he sounded incredibly cautious to Al’s ears. "You two can’t exactly be Elric anymore. Edward and Alphonse Elric are two deceased and very adult terrorists. Edward and Alphonse Mustang, however, are very much alive children. It’s safer. Intel had the ages wrong and, with a good cover story, it's doubtful someone will dig too deeply but the surname change is a must for this to work. I understand if – ’’
"It’s okay, Roy. We get it,’’ Al chirruped. Then, he knocked his knee against Ed. "Right, Brother?’’
Edward rubbed at his nose. "Uh-huh. Yeah. ’’
Because they did get it. As strange as it was to feel faintly upset over needing to ditch their mother’s surname, that didn’t make that feeling go away. Mom would’ve wanted them safe and alive…and happy. Guilt swirled in his gut and conflicting thoughts warred in his head, but Alphonse had to admit that he was safe, alive, and happy with Roy.
Edward Mustang.
Alphonse Mustang.
Roy found names looping around the confines of his skull whenever he had a moment to think. Warmth bloomed in his chest whenever he did, and it was an incredibly new but lovely feeling. It had been a couple of days since the adoption paperwork had been signed, handed over to Falman, and buried amongst official records along with various documentation. Save a small cluster of those who knew the truth, carefully constructed seeds of rumor had already been planted by Hughes’ careful hands with the aid of Team Mustang. The story was simple and plausible: Roy Mustang had stepped up to adopt the two orphaned boys of his late and estranged foster sister, and that was that.
He'd already heard a couple of whispers in the corridor of HQ. It seemed people moved on quickly from the talk of his upcoming promotion from lieutenant colonel to colonel. Instead, news of him taking on a parental role to two kids had been far more fun to people latch onto. It certainly made a change from the typical rumors that swirled around him and, even if some remarks hadn’t been positive, the spring in Roy’s step had yet to diminish. Even the boys seemed a touch more secure and things were starting to finally fall further into place.
For starters, he could take the kids out. Properly, that is. It was no longer short walks to keep them from going stir crazy or trips to the places he was less likely to be seen by any other co-workers. Secondly, Roy could do the most important thing and book Edward and Alphonse a doctor’s appointment with a pediatrician – not Knox – and get what remained of Ed’s right arm looked at further. Thirdly, and most importantly, Roy could take a moment to simply breathe…
"Look at her, Roy. Isn’t she the best?’’
Hughes’ voice was hushed and giddy, like some sort of besotted schoolboy, and it pulled Roy out of his musings. The Flame Alchemist inclined his head and eyed his friend sat beside him on the park bench they occupied. Maes had the goofiest grin on his face. The bespectacled man was leaning forward, both his elbows on his knees and hands propping his unshaven face up, his gaze solely on the scene occurring several feet away.
At seven in the evening, the small grassy park they had ventured to after having dinner at the Hughes’ was near enough empty. It was just the right amount of noise and activity that Edward hadn’t balked and plugged his ears. The sky was still bright, the lowered sun casting everything in an orangey glow, inclusive of highlighting what had captured Hughes’ complete attention. Roy suppressed an eye roll at Hughes’ antics and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend’s wife.
Gracia was kneeling on the ground, uncaring of the soft soil and woodchips that padded the ground of the park’s play area, as she fussed over Al. The kid had taken one hell of dive when running about with some other children, skinning his knees in the process. Roy had very nearly shot up out of his seat until Hughes pushed him back down, laughing jovially, calling him a mother hen and telling him not to worry. Al was fine. Gracia had it handled. The kid didn’t even shed a tear, already clambering onto his feet, only to pause and look distraught at the tiny rip in the knee of his pants.
Roy still wanted to get up (and do his own fussing over his boy) but he didn’t.
Besides, Gracia had beaten him to it, having been the closest. She inspected Al’s torn knee and lightly grazed palms, uttered some words and all seemed well. Right now, Gracia was rolling down Al’s pant leg, giving him a smile and an affectionate pat on his skinny calf. After that, Al was back to smiling and darting back off with his temporary playmates.
"I’ve touched lucky with having her as a wife, you know.’’
The lieutenant colonel gave a small hum at Hughes’ words, his dark eyes zeroing in on the sight of Riza. As was typical, she’d been dragged into attending dinner at the Hughes’ by Maes and, in turn, joined them all for the spontaneous decision for a post-dinner walk that resulted in them stopping by a park. She stood vigilantly over by the jungle gym, face stoic and eyes sharp, as Ed dangled from a set of monkey bars by his lone arm. How she remained cool, calm and collected was astonishing. Roy had forced himself into sitting on a bench with Maes when he’d hovered about too much, unintentionally stifling Edward’s confidence and progress (or so Hughes said).
He couldn’t help it. Both his boys had put on weight but they were fragile-looking little beings. Ed even more so. Each evening, built into their created routine, Roy would apply the medicated ointment to Ed’s snitched nub and roll on a clean compression bandage that Knox had suggested. The injury was healing but it still looked so raw.
Not that Edward made it look that way. The kid was adaptable as he was stubborn. Nothing could stop him.
Roy couldn’t watch. Riza had him. Ed would be safe. He turned his attention elsewhere. Each time Ed plummeted to the floor, Roy’s heart did the same. Al was a little better, but not by much. A simple game of tag that Ed had rejected an invite to had Al getting shoved by healthier-looking boys and girls. This – a panicky fluttering that seemed near-constant in his chest – was uncharacteristic. While those in his inner circle teased him for his melodramatic nature, he truly wasn’t. Roy was an impeccable man in shoving emotions on the backburner and focusing on the task at hand…
Well, for the most part. The neat compartments became blurred around the edges when loved ones and danger came into the mix, and perhaps that was the issue now. Riza seemed to have picked up on them, pressing a kiss to his lips when little eyes weren’t around to witness them. "I think it’s ‘New Dad Jitters’, ’’ Riza had quietly assumed one evening, visibly amused. "You’re fine, Roy. It’s standard to feel these things. You’re not alone in that regard.’’
He wasn’t fine. Not entirely. Between extended bouts of joy and exhaustion that came with having two children within his inept attempt of care, there was some sort of creature that resided within him that liked to claw up his innards, poising him with doubt and anxiety. Never before had Roy spent so much time second-guessing himself. Nevertheless, the fact that Riza had alluded to feeling the exact same way helped.
Even if she looked outwardly unfazed.
"She’d be a wonderful mother.’’ Hughes sighed dreamily.
Dark eyes briefly skittered back towards Riza who had smoothly caught Ed mid-fall without breaking a sweat.
A sharp elbow jabbed at his side playfully. "Wouldn’t she, Roy?’’
She already is, Roy thought, and he was not referring to Gracia.
Because Riza certainly seemed more adept than him when it came to everything, including the boys. She had been the one to mention that keeping their relationship from the boys would’ve ‘probably been for the best’. Roy agreed, of course. Two kids trying to get settled and dealing with the grief (and who-knows-what-else) was a combustive combination; introducing Riza as his long-term partner could’ve had several ugly outcomes. The last thing either of them wanted was to add more strain on the boys, or for Ed and Al to see her as someone stepping into that gaping hole that Trisha Elric’s death had left behind.
So, for now, the boys were solely his.
Although, Roy could see she didn’t feel that way even if she deferred to him as… The Parent. If Al asked for extra snacks, she told him to ask Roy in the same way she regurgitated a line or rule Roy had said when Ed was firing questions. Regardless, he sighed and went back to watching Al.
"Yes, Hughes,’’ Roy eventually droned. "I’m sure she would be.’’
Hughes probably would’ve continued to daydream aloud, waxing lyrical about the beauty and kindness of his wife if said woman hadn’t returned to join them on the bench. Gracia was smiling and perched herself beside Roy’s unoccupied side. The alchemist tried to remind outwardly unfazed and casual as he asked her:
"Everything okay?’’
Given the way Gracia smiled at him, he wasn’t successful. "Alphonse is just fine,’’ she reassured him. "He was more upset about ruining his new clothes.’’
"I can buy him more,’’ Roy said, feeling confused. Children were oddities, his two boys even more so. He wouldn’t change his boys for the world, though. "Kids ripping or dirtying up their clothes is kind of a standard, isn’t it?’’
"That it is,’’ Maes chuckled. "You read that in a parenting book?’’
"Shut up, Hughes.’’
The investigator only smiled wider. "That’s cute.’’
"I think it might run a little deeper than Al ruining his pair of pants,’’ Gracia gently chimed in. "He kept saying they were new and he didn’t want to upset you…’’
Roy stiffened. What had he ever given that impression?
Edward was notorious for spilling or smearing something down his shirt front, making Roy ask his sisters for stain removal tips. It was bad enough Vanessa had bragged about meeting ‘Roy’s boys’ and half of his sisters were sulky and withholding important adult-ing tips. But, still – never once had he shown a negative reaction over something so trivial. Hell, when all his white shirts got turned pink by the boys’ attempting to help with laundry, he’d done nothing more than groan into his palms.
"… but don’t take it personally, Roy,’’ Gracia continued. "I think, from what you’ve told Maes and I, its understandable. New clothes, not hand-me-downs, are a luxury in his eyes. I doubt his mother had the means to buy new in a war-torn village with limited supplies.’’
Oh. Okay. That made sense.
Roy made a note to unpackage that little hang-up and reassure Al over the seemingly trivial concern. Hopefully, Roy could nip this in the bud before it grew into something worse. It felt like he was forever discovering these little concerning tidbits as the weeks rolled by, and he didn’t begrudge his boys. It was understandable given how they had grown up and what they had been exposed to. Habits had been ingrained, be it Al’s clothes anxiety and desire to hide snacks under his pillow ‘for later’ to Ed’s habit of eating anything put in front of him (even Roy’s near inedible cooking attempts). If Ed and Al came out entirely unscathed, he would’ve been far more concerned.
"Yeah,’’ Roy eventually replied. "Yeah, you’re right about that. Still, I need to take them shopping for more things...’’ new shoes, more clothes, extra socks and underwear, more kid-stuff. If it hadn’t been for Riza, the kids would’ve still been in their threadbare clothes with only a pack of playing cards. "All they have are the clothes they stuffed into their rucksack and a few new ones Riza brought over.’’
"If you need any help, you know where we are,’’ Gracia offered sweetly.
"Thank you,’’ Roy replied, genuinely touched. He had Riza (in her current hidden capacity), but he also had his team, his Aunt Chris and many sisters, and Maes and Gracia. He’d always felt prideful that the selection of people that were part of his inner circle were his family.
Still, Roy felt like he might take up Gracia’s offer of help… maybe she could show him how to actually cook something edible? Breda’s recipes were fine. But he still felt like he was floundering. Like there were unwritten cooking rules that everyone in the world (except him) knew about and therefore didn’t need to be written down.
"Although,’’ Maes began, jovially. "I don’t think you need to go overboard with getting those boys things. I think you’ve got enough people eager to spoil them. When I stopped by your office Havoc was reading me the list he’d sent to his family… just to give you some warning, that man sounds like he’s getting a crate of clothes and toys from his family.’’
Yes, Roy had to admit that was true. All his men were keen to earn that ‘Uncle’ badge and eager to help in their own ways. If Havoc wasn’t gathering items from his sprawling expanse of a family in the East, then he was asking Roy if he could finish an hour early on Wednesdays to take the kids to the park. Fuery was no better, already mentioning how educational a trip to a museum would be, requesting to use some of his vacation days. Falman seemed to have gained a stack of reading material regarding children, from parenting books to various other kid-oriented things. Roy had seen him conversing with Riza an awful lot, the two of them exchanging information. Even Breda had started compiling his most ‘easy to cook’ recipes for Roy to try, offering to stop by over the weekend to assist and advising him to try and batch cook meals for ease throughout the week.
"I’ve had to drag Maes away from the children’s section when shopping,’’ Gracia informed him. "You’re lucky to not have been drowned in various items from him.’’
Maes pouted. "I’m not that bad, dear.’’
Roy wholly believed Gracia. When Hughes was on a roll and in a doting mood, he was terribly over the top and indulgent. He saw the way that man got around with spoiling Gracia on their anniversary, he didn’t dare think how Maes would’ve been if he had a son or daughter to coddle and spoil. For now, the man had gained two nephews, and Roy wondered what Gracia had to stop his friend from impulse buying: a six-foot teddy bear? Some garishly patterned pajamas? Roy didn’t know.
"We know you’re looking to eventually move, Roy,’’ Gracia said. "We’ll buy the boys some furnishings and bedding. Practical things. You know.’’
"And some fun stuff too,’’ Maes mock-whispered. "I don’t want us to be known as the Uncle Boring and Auntie Practical.’’
Gracia half-heartedly tutted, having heard the remark. "Those boys are grateful for the tiniest and most basic of things, I doubt they’d ever think that.’’
Hot water, clean clothes, and three meals a day were a basic needs to be fulfilled, something many kids didn’t relish over. Ed and Al did though. He’d seen the way Al’s eyes lit up when Roy handed him a simple bowl of oatmeal and blueberries in the morning. The same with how Ed had unabashedly and fleetingly giggled upon entering the bathroom, slapping a hand into the mound of bubbles that overflowed the bathtub from Roy had hazardously dumping too much bubble bath.
Although, thinking of baths…
Roy fished out his pocket watch to check the time and made a low noise. "The kids and I should be heading back home now,’’ he murmured. "It’s getting late. We’ve been out longer than usual and they both need a bath before bed – ’’
Laughter cut off Roy’s out loud musings, and he snapped his mouth shut.
"It’s a little after seven, Roy,’’ Hughes said between chuckles. "Really, there’s no rush.’’
But there was. An 8PM bedtime was a must. Not just for his own sanity but Falman’s book with suggested sleep routines written by professionals had stated a 7:30PM to 9PM bedtime was a must for the boys’ age bracket. Riza wholly agreed, too. Knox also said sleep was more important than ever for his kids given their malnutrition and easy-to-exhaust state. Above all else, the routine seemed to be something Edward, in particular, thrived off.
Ed clearly found the familiarity and set expectations comforting. It reminded Roy of that first week and Edward’s constant desire to know The Plan and desire for a timeline. In fact, Roy wondered if this was a natural trait or one born from a life of upheaval…
"I like them in bed by eight,’’ Roy informed his friend, "and no later.’’
"Wow. I never once thought you’d be like this…you know.’’ Maes was grinning ear to ear.
Roy scowled.
"Leave Roy be,’’ Gracia – the saint – defended.
"What?’’ Maes snorted out a laugh. "C’mon. You’ve got to admit it. I’m only saying that if you put those two – ’’ a thumb was jabbed between Roy and towards Riza’s direction " – together with children, who would you think would be the one with a set routine that would be met? It would be Hawkeye, wouldn’t it?’’
Gracia’s pause spoke volumes. "Well, I suppose so. Riza does tend to be more…’’
Responsible? Parent-worthy? Firmer with rules? Simply better? Roy didn’t wholly disagree. Not for the first time he selfishly wished the boys knew, if only for an extra set of hands (and a more level-headed presence at his side).
"I’m trying,’’ He reminded the married couple he was sat between.
For some reason that had the duo sobering up from their tinge of amusement.
Gracia squeezed his elbow. "We know you are.’’
"And you’re doing a great job,’’ Maes added as he threw an arm over Roy’s shoulders. "I wasn’t being cruel. I’m just still coming to terms that my buddy who’d think take-out and a glass of something strong was a ‘healthy’ meal is so eager for keeping up a routine. It’s a shift, Roy. A good shift.’’
Roy gave a grunt. He didn’t feel like he was doing a good job, but Maes had a point. If someone told him last month he’d be clock-watching in work to get home to two kids, Roy would’ve laughed in their face. Yet he had started to live for that last thirty minutes at work, eager to get home for something far better than a quiet room to decompress in and a tall glass of something alcoholic. There was a happy sort of bubbly feeling within him each time he unlocked the door and found himself greeted by his boys. Either way, Maes and Gracia sounded incredibly earnest, and their words boosted him. He shifted in his seat, feeling awkward but pleased, pretending that he couldn’t feel Riza’s eyes upon him from across the park.
"…five more minutes,’’ Roy grumpily decided, dodging their kind words. "The boys can have five more minutes before we go.’’
Chris drummed her knuckles against Roy’s apartment door, and waited.
The steady thump of little feet was audible from the other side along with the muffled sound of high-pitched voices. She felt herself smiling before the door was yanked open, revealing Edward. The short little scrap had a stance similar to a guard dog until he recognized her, his combative posture melting. Chris was almost on the receiving end of a small smile until a slightly larger body barreled into Ed’s side, bumping him enough to make him stumble.
"Watch it, Al!’’ Ed grizzled, indigent.
Al had clearly slid across hardwood in his socks by accident. "Sorry, brother.’’ He didn’t sound too apologetic. "But you’re not supposed to – ’’
"It ain’t anyone to worry about,’’ Ed grouched and waved a hand at Chris. "Look. It’s only Roy’s Mama.’’
Chris’ heart lifted at Edward’s form of address that, until now, had been a rarity even when in selective groups. She understood why Roy was being more liberal with his use of the word in the hope it would set the boys at ease how she was family and was trusted. Idly, she watched Al finally glance at her, and the smile she received was welcoming as it was infectious. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that Ed hadn’t known it was her when he’d opened the door; there was no way that boy could’ve taken a sneak peek through the door’s peephole, and she couldn’t see a chair or anything for the kid to have used to do so. She might’ve tweaked the truth when she’d told Ed that he was taller than Roy at that age.
Nevertheless, Chris didn’t get the opportunity to offer a greeting, let alone install some words of wisdom. A heavier set of fast-paced footfalls became audible, cutting any further conversation short. She knew it was Roy moments before he thumped into view, looking a far cry from the neatly dressed and suave young man she had helped raise. He looked good in a different way. Healthier, for one. Charcoal eyes were clear, not bloodshot from a sleepless night or nursing a hangover.
Yes, Roy’s hair was slicked back as if he’d only shortly left the shower and he was only wearing one slipper. Even the clothing choice, overly casual for the man that had a love for expensive three-piece suits, seemed to be marred with a sprinkling of flour and what she hoped was batter. Whatever the case, as tousled as he looked in his t-shirt and pants, he carried himself as if he had shed some great weight off his shoulders.
Fatherhood looked good on him.
And that was a thought she never thought to ever have when it came to her Roy-boy.
It wasn’t so much that he’d been anti-children as they simply didn’t fit in with his goals. That, and he showed no desire or interest in them, his interactions uncharacteristically awkward and bumbling. Chris could remember one of her ex-workers stopping by for a catch-up after having settled down. Rosie had arrived sharing stories and toting a chubby one-year-old on her hip that she happily slipped into Roy’s unexpectant arms. Watching Roy flounder and gingerly place the baby into someone else’s arms with a look of horror and revulsion had been hilarious.
Honestly, Roy might’ve been twenty-five and had plenty of time to follow the typical married and pop out some kids path many men followed, but Chris had come to the conclusion that children were not on the cards for Roy and his beloved sharpshooter. It was a conclusion she’d been fine with. All she ever wanted was for her boy to be happy.
"How many times have I told you not to open the door unless I tell you or you know who….’’ Roy’s low, rumbling grumble aimed at Ed trailed off as he spotted her. "Oh. Hey. What are you doing here?’’
Chris didn’t contain her eye roll. "I thought I’d stop by with a little something before you left for work.’’
"I’ve taken today off,’’ Roy answered, eyeing the bag in her hand curiously. "The boys and I have got a busy day ahead. It seemed pointless for me to attend work for a few hours this morning. Riza said I’ve got plenty of overdue leave stacked up that I might as well use some of it, so…’’
"We’re going to the doctors at eleven,’’ Al cheerily informed her. "Then the dentist at one.’’
"We’ve never been to a dentist before,’’ Ed added.
"I’ve told you. Dentists are – nice. They’ll look at your teeth and we’ll go.’’ Roy sounded confident. "It’ll be fine. In and out, easy. We’ll go for our check-ups and grab some lunch out. A nice quiet little bistro, doesn’t that sound nice?’’
Biting the inside of her mouth, Chris battled the urge to laugh. For all that Roy looked and sounded confident as he simultaneously patted his sons’ heads, her trained eye could see straight through it. He was trying to convince himself and was utterly nervous. He sent her a look, daring her to say something. She didn’t. Chris Mustang had a far better poker face than most.
"Well, I won’t keep you,’’ she began. "I only stopped by to drop off a few things. I thought the boys would like – ’’
"Not you too, Māma,’’ Roy groaned as if he’d been shot.
" – your old alchemy periodicals and a few other things,’’ Chris carried on with a frown.
As expected, both children brightened. Still, she huffed at her nephew and pseudo-son. "What do you mean ‘you too’. What are you whining about now, boy?’’
Roy seemed to sag on the spot like he was a dramatic teenager once more, waving her in. Chris shook her head. He didn’t say anything further beyond stepping back and pulling the door fully open, giving her a clear view of the hall and part of the living room. Chris could see some clutter that overtook the tiny apartment; two hefty overstuffed boxes and a few bags that varied in size. The two boxes looked as if they had been transported given the numerous stamps on it, the contents of child-orientated clothing, books, and toys clear as day. Some of the latter had already been removed and been in use given the stray leather ball, tin of toy soldiers and several toy vehicles.
"Vanessa and the other girls gave me a bag full of bathing products. Did you know kids have their own range of shampoos and soaps?’’ Roy looked genuinely flabbergasted. "When I was a kid, before Vanessa got a hold of me, I’m pretty sure I used the same bar of soap to wash with that you used for laundry.’’
Chris narrowed her eyes. Roy did not wash with laundry soap. The brat was being melodramatic again, comparing to the days before Vanessa spoiled him with luxury goods. Honestly, this boy… if she didn’t love him dearly, she’d throttle him with her bare hands.
"My skin smells like honey ‘n’ orange blossoms now,’’ Edward whispered, snuffling at his forearm.
Al leaned in for a sniff. "You do. I used the purple bottle. Lavender, I think?’’
"Have you tried the big green one?’’
"No. But I think that’s a moisturizer. Roy told me it’s only for your body. The smaller white bottle is for your face.’’
Mildly distracted by the hushed exchange between the two boys, Chris belatedly realized Roy was continuing to ramble to her about the woes of having a generous found family.
"Havoc’s family sent me too much,’’ Roy’s glower at the boxes carried no real heat. "The other guys are no better. Breda gave me some new plates, cutlery and fu– damn waffle iron.’’
Chris wasn’t too sure about needing a waffle iron, but Roy’s kitchen had always been lacking. In fact, most of his apartment had been lacking. Now, as she stepped into the hall and shut the door behind her, beneath the chaos of living in a small space, the apartment looked more lived-in and homey. It was progress in her eyes.
"We’re using it now! We’re having waffles for breakfast!’’ Al happily told her.
Ah. Chris smiled. That might’ve explained the flour and batter smudged on Roy’s shirt. "That so?’’
Al bobbed his head. "Mhm.’’
"More like tryin’ to make some,’’ Ed glumly elaborated. "They keep sticking and burning.’’
"I see…’’ Chris said, side-stepping a tiny toy car. "Are we using butter to coat the iron before pouring the batter in?’’
Roy’s expression soured further. "No.’’
"Then that is probably why they are sticking,’’ she noted.
Roy shook his head and continued his complaining. “I swear, I thought I had a big family, but it’s like Havoc is related to half the population of Amestris! Every day I get another package from a never-before-heard-of aunt or cousin or step-grandfather.”
“Maybe he’s like you,” Al said sweetly.
Roy choked on his words and looked down at him. “Like me?”
Al nodded. “Yeah. You’re not related to Hughes, or your mama, or to me and Ed, but we’re your family. Right?”
More strangled noises came from Roy’s through. Chris was worried he was about to have a stroke. Then, his face softened and he dropped a hand on Al’s head. “Yeah, maybe. Now come on, let’s see if we can’t figure out this waffle thing.”
Roy flounced off in the direction of the kitchen and Al followed suit, hot on his heels with excitement. Chris followed at a more sedate pace, highly amused, with Ed trailing beside her. He was attempting to be sly as he craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse in the bag she held. She’d have to be an idiot to not know what he wanted, having already learned second-hand from Roy how talented both his boys were, especially in alchemy, and how Ed’s love for alchemy ran closer to fixation.
Upon finding out that he was being watched, Edward came to a halt in the living room. "…Alchemy periodicals?’’ he recalled, faintly bashful. "You said that you had them?’’
Had this been twelve or so years ago and it had been Roy asking her, Chris would’ve playfully teased him. She would’ve denied what she had said. Watched him sweat or pout and get grumpy with her antics before finally handing them over. Alas, times had changed – she had changed – and something about those too big and bright eyes made her typically gruff antics dissolve into indulgence.
"I found them in Roy’s old room. For all I know, They’ll probably be out of date with their theories,’’ she explained.
"I’ll still read ‘em!’’ Ed said, looking eager. "I – I mean. Please , can I read them?’’
A 'please'. Goodness. Chris smiled and perched herself on the arm of a couch she hadn’t seen until now. She wondered when she had turned so soft and pulled out the dog-eared batch of alchemy magazines. Edward looked at her as if she’d handed him the moon, clutching them tightly to his chest.
"I’ve got a chess set and dominoes as well,’’ she added. "Can you put them away for me before you start reading?’’
For a singular beat, Chris truly thought he was going to deny her gentle request. Ed looked irritated to be told to wait a few seconds to read the worn periodicals. He placed the magazines on the couch and she handed him the bag, watching him scramble off towards one of the two bookcases in the living room.
Once upon a time, those bookcases had been neatly organized, housing a healthy array of tomes and sentimental items like Roy’s late mother’s jewelry box. Now, only the bookshelf with the jewelry box remained neat and untouched, leaving the other bookcase as something Chris assumed had been claimed by the boys. The latter bookcase was cluttered with books, a few board games and what looked like a large jar of marbles. Save the alchemy books that now had some child-friendly fiction dotted between them, the only item in that cabinet that was solely Roy’s was the dark bottle of aged and extremely expensive fortified red wine on the topmost shelf.
It seemed a lot of little things had changed within Roy’s apartment, two new additions aside. While Ed stuffed away the travel chess set and dominoes, she cast her eye about the living room. The mantlepiece had always been a relatively bare feature in Roy’s home, save the brass clock that resided there. Photographs, especially the more personal ones, tended to be squirreled away, save two images: one of when Team Mustang had been formed and, the second, an image of Roy and Hughes fresh out of the military academy. Those two framed photos were tucked away on the shelf below the bookcase that housed the jewelry box, yet they had now migrated towards the mantle…
A mantle that now had additional images cluttering the polished wood.
Amongst what looked like childish drawings dotted along the mantle (courtesy of Alphonse if the scrawled signature was of any indication of the artist) were two photos that Chris had never seen before. It was natural to edge closer for a better look. Plonked between the frames of Team Mustang and the one with Hughes was a framed image that had obviously been gifted. It was the work of Maes Hughes, no doubt about it. The shot was clear but candid with Roy sat at his kitchen table, captured during a moment when the subjects were laughing and oblivious. He had one arm slung around Al who was practically in his lap, pointing at something on the table while Ed seemed to be half-hanging off the back of the chair Roy occupied, near enough spilling over Roy’s shoulder.
However, next to that framed photograph was another, and it wasn’t framed. It had a nick in the corner, the white edges yellowed and had been carefully propped up next to the framed photo of the boys and Roy. The children in that unframed image were familiar even if they were much smaller and rosy-cheeked, but the woman with long brown hair in a lilac dress that tightly clutched the tinier versions of Edward and Alphonse was a stranger to Chris. Who that woman was obvious,
though. The shape of that brunette’s face and eyes was all Alphonse and the tiniest upturn of her nose was similar to Edward’s nose.
"That’s Mom.’’
Had she been a more nervous woman, Chris might’ve been startled at the unexpected voice at her side. She glanced down and spotted Al wringing his hands, his eyes glued to the photograph. Chris had dealt with this situation before; mourning a death was no easy task for anyone, but there was so much more to be delicate about when dealing with a child going through grief.
"She’s very pretty,’’ was all that Chris could say. It was better than nothing.
Al sucked in a breath and nodded, his hands dropping to his sides. He stopped staring at the photograph and gave her a weak, wobbly grin. "I was four and brother was five in that photo,’’ he quietly told her. "We’ve only got a few photos. Ed and I have one each in the journals Roy got us, but we are keeping that one on there. Roy said we can buy a frame for it.’’
Chris’ heart had grown heavy but her spirit felt lighter than the air itself. Roy was a flawed man but he was a good one. Simple gestures like this did the world of good. Pride had her smiling and reaching out the squeeze Al’s shoulder. These kids would be just fine. Roy’s concerns were valid but unnecessary in her eyes.
"Did you ask her, kiddo?’’ Roy’s voice called out from the kitchen.
"Uh.’’ Al straightened up, cheeks pinkening. He stared up at Chris and asked, "I was meant to ask if you wanted to have breakfast with us?’’
Chris could see through such a ploy. Roy wanted her to make waffles or, possibly, have her make sure he didn’t serve the kid’s ash. She would’ve said no if it wasn’t for Al looking excited. "I’d love to.’’
Al’s smile was radiant. He pivoted on the spot, probably ready to relay the message, only to stop. Chris didn’t understand why until a little voice in the back of her head told her that Edward had fallen suspiciously quiet and that wasn’t a good thing. She followed Alphonse’s attention and wanted to scold herself at the sight of Ed near the topmost shelf of the overfilled bookcase. The one-armed boy was precariously holding on and stubbornly trying to regain his footing, one or two books dropping to the ground. Before her or Al could say anything, Roy had shuffled around the kitchen wall, mixing bowl and spoon in hand, and a curious expression as to his lack of response.
That expression vanished within a blink, the bowl of batter dumped on the nearest surface as he charged forward.
"Damnit, Edward. Careful!’’ Roy barked as he sprung forth.
Chris could tell the difference between Roy being furious and Roy being scared. It was a fine line between the two with some very subtle tells. Edward, however, could not. He flinched at the harsh tone and it was enough for the overloaded cabinet to groan and tip. Roy got there in enough time to shoulder the bookcase back in place, the heavy wood slamming against the wall, yet the aftermath that followed was concurrent.
She felt like she could see it in slow motion. The moment the case was harshly shoved into remaining vertical, two things happened simultaneously: one was that Edward’s lone hand was slipping while the other involved the dark bottle of ruby-red port rocking forward. Chris witnessed that split-second fumble of Roy’s own selfishness and selflessness of being a parent clash and play out across his features. It was a mere nanosecond, but it was there. As quick as it came it was gone, his arms automatically grabbing the youngster, stopping his harsh descent to the floor, while his dark eyes tracked the fall of his prized bottle of port.
The sound of shattering glass made them all wince.
Roy emitted a wounded sound at the sight of green glass shards and the deep red liquid rolling across the hardwood. If there was ever a sight that Roy Mustang’s priorities had changed and he had matured, this was it. Chris knew for a fact that had this incident occurred a few years ago, Roy would’ve most definitely saved the bottle of expensive booze over a child that, at worst, would’ve healed.
"Ed!’’ Al yelped. "You almost hurt yourself. What were you thinking?’’
Chris had enough sense to scoop Al up when he began to move. "Oh no, you don’t,’’ she huffed. "You stay put, kid. We do not need you stepping on glass. Here – ’’ she dumped him onto the couch " – we go. Don’t move.’’
Alphonse did as he was told. Roy shuffled on the spot, absently shifting Ed onto his hip. While Roy looked forlorn, Ed was visibly plagued with anxiety. Chris, used to the hazards of bars and broken glass, click her fingers at Roy, garnering his attention and issuing an order.
"That goes for you, Roy. Stay put. Let me grab some paper towels and a broom.’’
Roy nodded stiffly and Chris went about gathering what she needed from the kitchen. Upon her return, Roy seemed to have been knocked out of his stupor, probably due to hearing the boys bickering. Al was being a voice of reason while Ed was defending himself, saying he needed to make room for the pack of dominoes and it wasn’t his fault.
"Alright, alright. Knock it off, you two.’’ Roy drawled, sounding fed-up than outrightly pissed off. "What’s done is done. Let’s just…’’ he paused to heave out a sad sigh. "Not do this, again.’’
Al sunk down amongst the couch cushions, sending his sibling a look.
Edward got the hint and squirmed in the lieutenant colonel’s arms. "S-Sorry, Roy.’’
In spite of his silence, Roy seemed to outwardly accept the apology by rubbing Ed’s back.
Chris got to work with tidying up. She didn’t dare read the yellowed label that swam amongst the puddle of wine. She had a feeling that was The Promotion Port: a rare, fifty-year-old fortified red wine from Creta that was saved for Roy’s big achievement on his lofty goal of becoming Führer.
"Was… was it important?’’ Ed questioned.
Im-port-ant. Chris coughed, carefully swiping up the worst of it. She should not laugh. Roy seemed in a daze between relief and devastation. That was an awful lot of cenz spilled across the floor, wasted.
"Not really,’’ Roy numbly supplied, his tone devoid of emotion yet blatantly sarcastic. "It was only a fifty-year-old bottle of Penfold’s finest for when I finally became a General.’’
"Er…’’ Edward wrinkled his nose, confused. "So – So, I did you a favor? It was out-of-date booze you should’ve thrown away?’’
"…port doesn’t go out of date. Wine ages, it gets better. It – ’’ Roy struggled and forcefully stopped his sulky muttering. "You know what, Ed? Yeah. Let’s go with that. It was stale wine.’’
Chris made the mistake of looking up from the mess she was removing, her poker face spasming.
"Don’t,’’ Roy hissed at her, seething.
Many people, Chris mused, would’ve quaked to be under such a fiercely murderous look from the famous Flame Alchemist.
"Māma.’’
How could she be intimidated? This was her boy. The same brat she had to put up with screaming from the rafters, being a pain in her ass. The very same brat who had grown into a teen with punk-ish tendencies. The one who had once stolen ‘an old dusty bottle’ that he’d wrongly assumed wouldn’t be missed and was cheap, downing part of the rare whiskey with his friends and later confessing he’d barely touched the ‘nasty drink’ and how he’d poured the contents down the gutter when she called him out on being tipsy.
"I mean it. Don’t la – ’’
Chris gave in. She threw her head back and let out a cackling belly laugh. "Talk about karma.’’