Chapter Text
“Well, this is a fine way to end a mission,” Havoc muttered, shifting his pack on his shoulder with a grimace.
Maes Hughes sighed heavily, his gaze fixed on the broken-down train that had decided to give up in the middle of nowhere. Their journey back to Central, after two exhausting weeks in West City dealing with a case of murder, mystery, and an alchemist wanted by the state, had already been grueling. But this… this was just the icing on a very bitter cake. Maes’ hopes of getting home to his wife and daughter within the next twenty-four hours had been derailed—literally—by mechanical failure.
The conductor had ordered everyone off the train nearly an hour ago, leaving the group stranded in a muddy field by the tracks while the engineers poked, prodded, and muttered over the engine. A thin drizzle had begun to fall, soaking through their already uncomfortable uniforms. Maes squinted toward the faint outline of the next village in the distance, barely visible through the gray mist. An hour’s walk, at least, stood between them and even the most basic shelter. Judging by the way the engineers were scratching their heads and arguing, Maes didn’t need to rely on his investigative skills to conclude that a quick fix wasn’t in the cards.
He cast a glance toward Roy, who stood nearby, arms crossed and jaw clenched. The Colonel was a Caregiver, and his dark eyes were locked on the engineers as if he was staring down a disagreeable Little, as though sheer force of will could compel the train to work again. Beside him, Riza seemed the picture of coolly collected Dom, her coat pulled snugly around her shoulders. But Maes could see the tightness in her jaw, the subtle stiffness in her posture. Breda, also a Dom, didn't match Riza's composure. The heavyset man, shifted restlessly in his mud-soaked boots, muttering something under his breath that was likely less than polite.
Havoc, Baseline and ever the optimist, tried to keep things light.
“Maybe the village has a decent tavern,” Havoc said, his tone attempting levity but falling short. He adjusted his cigarette, shielding it from the drizzle. “A stiff drink might salvage this day.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Breda grumbled. “This place looks like it’s allergic to fun.”
Maes shook his head at the scene, exhaustion lending itself to his sense of humour. They seemed like a walking bad joke: What do you get when two Baselines, two Doms, and a Caregiver walk into a bar…? He snorted quietly at the thought, adjusting his glasses as Roy’s sharp voice cut through the air.
“I won’t ask you again, Fullmetal -- Edward! Get down -- damn it -- just get down!”
Turning, Maes caught sight of Edward, their group’s lone Little, clinging to the ladder of the train. The tiny boy was peering curiously at the engineers as though he might solve the problem himself. Maes’s heart lurched. Though Classified as a Baseline at the age of 16, his Caregiver tendencies were so high the Classification Officer and Doctor had insisted to re-test him. The father and Caregiver within Maes surged as he watched Ed’s precarious position. The boy, the smallest and youngest of their group, was typically a beacon of energy and noise. Today, however, even his antics carried the weight of exhaustion.
Roy, already drained and tense from everything, had clearly reached his limit. Striding forward, he grabbed the boy by the waist and hauled him with one arm, ignoring Ed’s indignant squawk.
“Careful,” Roy snapped, but the sight of him carrying Ed under one arm like a sack of flour, the boy’s legs dangling in embarrassment, drew a snort of laughter from Maes despite himself.
Red-faced and muttering, Ed squirmed in Roy’s grip, but the Colonel ignored him as he marched back toward the group, only pausing to address the lead engineer.
“Can we expect to start moving soon?” Roy asked, still holding Ed, his voice laced with strained politeness.
“Not likely, sir,” the engineer replied. “Looks like a valve’s gone bad. We’ll need to send for parts from the next town over. Could be a day, maybe two.”
Roy’s shoulders sagged visibly. “Right. Thank you.”
Another engineer chimed in, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. “Might be best for you and your team to head to the village like the other passengers, sir. They’ll have an inn.”
Maes pinched the bridge of his nose, already dreading the muddy trek. “We’d best get walking, Roy.”
“I should’ve stayed at command with Fuery and Falman,” Breda muttered, kicking at the mud.
Riza cleared her throat, her sharp gaze flicking down to Ed, who was still tucked under Roy’s arm. Roy blinked, then realised he was still carrying the boy. Huffing, he set Ed down on his feet, though not before picking up Ed’s small suitcase in addition to his own.
“Alright, team,” Roy called, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. “Let’s move out.”
Ed trudged beside Roy, reaching for the suitcase swinging from the Colonel's hand. “Give it back!” he whined, voice sharp with frustration. “I can carry my own stuff!”
Roy didn’t even glance down, his patience frayed thin. “You’re tripping over air, kid.”
“It’s muddy!” Ed shot back, his voice rising, more indignant than ever.
Maes, walking a few paces behind, watched the exchange with mild amusement, though he could see Roy’s short temper flaring. The Colonel’s sharp tone cut through Ed’s protests. “Enough, Edward,” Roy said, his voice firm and final. A stern glance silenced any further argument as he turned his attention to Breda, discussing their next steps for finding an inn.
Sighing, Maes caught Ed’s reaction. The boy was only fourteen but didn't look a day over eleven, yet he had a mean look on his face that fiukd rival the toughest of men. Ed glared daggers at Roy’s back, his golden eyes bright with defiance. But as Roy focused on his conversation with Breda, Ed’s shoulders slumped, his scowl melting and his lower lip wavered. Edward fell a step behind from them all, rubbing his fist into one eye, trying to hide the telltale signs of frustration and exhaustion.
Maes could see it clearly: Ed was doing what he always did when he wanted to prove a point --clinging to his Big headspace, combative and determined to hold his ground. But underneath it all, the Little was showing through, seeking comfort and attention in the only way he knew how. Normally, Roy would have recognised it in an instant, giving Ed a smile or offering quiet reassurance. But today, the Colonel’s own exhaustion had dulled his attentiveness, leaving Ed’s subtle cues unnoticed.
Maes understood all too well. As much as he wanted to pull Roy aside and tell him to take a breath and focus on his Little, he couldn’t bring himself to judge. He’d been there himself, worn thin and distracted, mistaking his daughter’s tantrum for defiance when all she’d really wanted was a cuddle from her papa.
But that’s what uncles were for. Without missing a beat, Maes slowed his steps until he was walking beside Ed, who was still muttering under his breath.
“Hey there, little bear,” Maes said softly, borrowing the affectionate nickname he’d heard Roy use countless times.
Ed stiffened, his face immediately scrunching into a scowl as he turned to glare up at Maes. “W-what?” he sputtered, his voice cracking slightly. “Don’t call me— I’m not— Unca M-Hughes!” His protests were weak, more habit than genuine resistance.
Maes hid a smile, letting his tone stay light. “Oh? Thought I’d just check in on you, that’s all. You look like you’re having a bit of a day, and it has been a chaotic mess these past two weeks.”
Edward grumbled under his breath, his words barely audible but carrying all the weight of his frustration. "More like a month..."
“What was that, kiddo?” Maes replied, his tone warm but pensive. He glanced at the small boy, his sharp investigator’s mind noting every detail of the boy’s worn-down state. Ed’s hair was messier than usual his small hands fisted at his sides as though sheer willpower was the only thing keeping him upright.
The more he thought about it, the more unsettling the situation seemed. Over the past two weeks, Maes had noticed how strained things had been between Roy and Ed. He thought it had been the case, but maybe there was more to it. He couldn’t recall a single moment where Ed had taken a true respite from being Big. Sure, he’d caught the occasional fleeting moment -- Ed absently sucking on his sleeve or thumb -- but those didn’t count. What was more concerning was the lack of Roy’s usual doting presence.
Normally, Roy would be overbearing and find every excuse to be at Ed’s side, whether it was with teasing remarks, protective gestures, or subtle moments of reassurance. But over the course of this mission, Roy had been distant, distracted by the weight of the case. Maes had still caught glimpses of him gazing at Ed with a kind of wistful longing, but that only made the absence of his usual attentiveness more glaring.
It wasn’t just unsettling -- it was unnatural and concerning.
Caregivers had a biological need to care, just as Littles needed to be cared for. Two weeks of suppressing that instinct, of both Roy and Ed stubbornly focusing on the case without giving in to their dynamic, had clearly taken its toll.
He studied Roy from a distance, noting the Colonel’s tense shoulders, the sharp set of his jaw, and the slight squint to his eyes that hinted at a brewing migraine. Roy was running on fumes, and his exhaustion had turned to a short temper and burnout. Maes sighed and glanced down at Ed, toddling beside him with all the determination of a child pushing themselves past their limit. His legs were unsteady, his body beginning to falter even as his mind stubbornly refused to give in.
Quietly, Maes leaned closer, his voice low and gentle so as not to stir any more tension during their lengthy walk. “I think somebody needs some Daddy and Baby time, don’t they?”
Ed stiffened, his golden eyes snapping up to glare at Maes. “The bastard might,” Ed bit out, his tone laced with defiance, “but I don’t. I—I don’t need it. I’m Big.”
Maes hummed, the sound deliberately dubious. “Mmm, are you now?”
“I am!” Ed insisted, his voice rising a little as his fists clenched tighter. His lower lip quivered briefly before he bit down on it, his gaze darting toward Roy, who was still deep in conversation with Breda.
“Uh-huh,” Maes murmured, his tone neither teasing nor patronising, just calm and knowing. “Big enough to carry all that weight on your shoulders for two whole weeks without a single break, huh?”
“I can handle it,” Ed said, but his voice wavered, the faintest crack revealing the strain beneath.
Maes stopped walking for a moment, crouching slightly to meet Ed’s eye level. “I know you can, kiddo,” he said softly, his gaze steady. “But you don’t have to. That’s why you’ve got a Daddy, remember?”
Ed’s scowl faltered, his small frame trembling as he looked away. “I don’t need Da – him,’’ Ed mumbled, his voice so low it was almost lost in the squelch of their boots against the mud. “Roy’s got important work. I'm Big and busy. I don't need no Li'l time."
Maes felt his heart crack. The tremble in Ed’s voice, the way he stumbled over his words, and the way his eyes fixed on the ground—it was almost too much to bear. "Oh, Ed," Maes breathed, stopping in his tracks to place a steadying hand on the boy's head. "Work is important, yes. This case has been very important. But you should know that you are more important to your Daddy than chasing a promotion, right?"
Ed didn’t answer, his eyes dropping to his mud-caked boots. His small shoulders hunched further, and Maes could practically feel the self-doubt radiating from the boy. The sight made Maes feel sick, and he stopped walking altogether, crouching to Ed’s level and gently resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
"Right?" Maes pressed gently, his voice soft but firm. "Edward, look at me. You know that you are his entire world, don’t you?"
Ed’s lip quivered, and he looked so hurt that Maes nearly faltered. It wasn’t like the fiery, argumentative Ed they all knew -- this was raw and vulnerable, the Little part of him peeking through despite his stubborn attempts to suppress it.
"Baby boy," Maes said quietly, his voice brimming with affection. "You don’t know how much of a blessing you are, especially to him. For years, we all told Roy he needed a Little to care for, but he wouldn’t listen. He was so..." Maes hesitated. He couldn’t say depressed or suicidal. Ed didn’t need to know the depths of Roy’s struggles before finding him and his brother and having a small outlet for his Caregiver needs "...he was so sad," Maes continued. "He was lonely and poorly. And then you and your brother came along. Helping you two with your goal gave him a purpose. And when you got Classified early, he couldn’t believe his luck. You’re not just a blessing, Ed. You’re his miracle."
Ed shook his head, his voice breaking as he mumbled, "I... I'm temporary. Da -- Roy... it's just temporary. The military said I couldn't stay unless I had a Caregiver because of stupid laws. I need to stay to get Al’s body back."
Maes frowned, his heart sinking further. This wasn’t new information -- Ed had been Classified as a Little at fourteen after a hospital visit from a mission gone wrong a few months ago. The staff had explained that younger Littles were often Classified earlier than other designations due to their more apparent physical aspect and behaviours, like zero signs of puberty, accidents due to bladder weakness or age-regressive tendencies. The hospital staff had taken one look at Edward and seen the "glaringly obvious signs" when treating him for stitches from an assignment gone awry.
When the examination results came back citing Ed was a Little on the Baby headspace spectrum had caused some fuss. Edward had been upset at the outcome. However, Roy hadn’t hesitated to sign the foster contract to keep Ed in the military. But all that had been four months ago, and Maes had long suspected Roy wanted to turn that foster arrangement into something permanent.
"What’s wrong, Ed?" Maes murmured, his sharp gaze narrowing on the boy.
"N-nuthin'!" Ed stammered, his voice rising in defense.
"Edward," Maes said more firmly. "Did you and Daddy have a disagreement? Is that why you’ve both been so tense? Tell me."
"Leave it alone!" Ed snapped, his voice cracking. "I’m not Little right now."
Maes opened his mouth to press further, but Ed stomped off, his unsteady legs moving faster than they should. The group ahead had already turned around, Roy’s concerned face coming into view as he started to step toward them. But before anyone could act, the inevitable happened. Ed’s little legs stumbled, caught in the thick mud, and he fell heavily with a wet, echoing splat into the cold, clay-like muck.
The sound of the fall was loud, but it was the tiny, hitched sob that followed that broke Maes’s heart into pieces. Frozen, he watched as Ed lay there, trembling and trying to suppress the tears that clearly threatened to spill over. Roy had abandoned the suitcases to Riza and Breda, striding forward with a determined focus, already pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. The mud squelched under his boots as he closed the gap, his deep navy eyes locked on Edward, who was still scrambling to his feet, slipping and failing to find steady footing in the thick, clay-like terrain.
“Hey, easy there,” Roy said as he caught up, steadying the boy by his shoulders without a care for the mud that smeared across his own uniform. The handkerchief in his hand moved instinctively to Ed’s face, wiping away the worst of the dirt clinging to his cheeks. “It’s okay, Dadd-- I’ve got it,” Roy shushed softly, his tone soothing as his hands worked with practiced care. “What happened? You slip?”
Maes, standing a few paces behind, observed the interaction with a mix of curiosity and concern. He wasn’t entirely sure if Roy was referring to Ed slipping in the mud or the slip of Ed’s headspace into being Little. The boy, after all, was an enigma—immature for his age in some ways, yet wise beyond his years in others. But in this moment, Maes could see the truth: Ed wasn’t as Big as he liked to think he was. The accidental slip of affectionate titles like Daddy and the clumsy motor skills that betrayed his exhaustion were proof enough.
“Of course, I slipped, Colonel Obvious!” Ed snapped, his golden eyes blazing as he shoved at Roy’s chest with his automail hand.
The shove was strong -- Ed was always stronger than he looked -- but Roy, with the biological advantages of a Caregiver, didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he looked down at the muddy handprint now smeared across his uniform with a slight frown, his expression more hurt by the rejection than the physical push itself.
“Get -- get off! I’m fine!” Ed barked, his voice cracking as his frustration boiled over.
Roy’s frown deepened, his concern evident in the way he reached for Ed again. “Edward, I’m just trying to help -- ”
“Stop fussing and pretending!” Ed interrupted, his voice rising as he took a step back, slipping slightly in the mud again. “You don’t have to act like you care -- I get it. I know I’m an obligation!”
Roy froze, his hand hovering mid-air as if the words had physically struck him. For a moment, he looked utterly astonished, his usually commanding presence faltering under the weight of Ed’s accusation. Before he could respond, Riza cleared her throat, her calm voice cutting through the tension.
“Come on,” she said evenly, her sharp gaze flicking between the two. “We’re almost there. The sooner we find somewhere to stay, the sooner Edward can get cleaned up and... things can be addressed.”
Ed’s face twisted into a scowl, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stomped off, outpacing them all as his small, shivering frame moved ahead toward the faint lights of the village. Maes watched him go, his sharp eyes catching the way Ed’s shoulders trembled—not just from the cold mud, but from the storm of emotion he was clearly trying to suppress.
Maes raised an eyebrow at Roy, his voice low as he muttered, “Address what?”
Roy’s expression darkened, and he shot Maes a glare. “Did you rile him up?”
“Excuse me?” Maes asked, his tone sharp as he frowned at his friend.
“You heard me,” Roy pressed as they began walking again. “Did you rile him up? You can be too pushy at times. He --”
“I don’t think you’re pushy enough,” Maes cut in, his voice firm. “He’s like you, Roy. If you don’t encourage him to talk, he’ll drown in his feelings. But that’s neither here nor there -- what do you need to address?”
Roy’s glare softened into something troubled. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “The past month... Ed’s been distant.”
“How distant?” Maes pressed, his sharp tone leaving no room for evasion.
Roy shrugged, but when Maes stopped walking and gave him a pointed look, the Colonel sighed heavily. “The kid’s been busy. I’ve been busy. This assignment hasn’t helped. Riza... Riza brought it up a few days ago. Said Ed and I haven’t had any Little downtime.”
Maes stared at him, the full weight of the revelation sinking in. “Are you telling me you haven’t had a chance to look after your baby in a month?”
Roy’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he glanced away. “Don’t phrase it like that, but... yes.”
“He is your baby, though,” Maes lamented, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than when you’re doting on him, Roy. What the hell? A month? That’s neglect for you both. It is a very long time for a Little and just as long for you, given your history.”
Roy flinched, his voice defensive as he muttered, “Quit the lecture, okay? It’s not for a lack of trying. The runt’s been dodging me or outright saying no. Then this case happened, and... here we are.”
Maes sighed, his eyes scanning the village square ahead. Ed had stopped near a well, where Riza was quietly talking to him. Breda trudged further ahead, while Havoc slipped into what looked like a tavern to ask about accommodations.
“Please tell me you two are still doing something to maintain yourselves,” Maes whispered as they drew closer.
Roy pressed his lips into a thin line, reluctant to answer.
“Even the basics, like changing his diapers when he is about? A cuddle? Bath time?” Maes guessed.
Roy sighed. “He wears pull-ups when he’s Big and handles them himself. Last time I tried, he got so angry it wasn’t worth the stress. It is different than me wrangling him when he’s Little, but…when he’s Big, I have to respect his boundaries. Right?”
"And sometimes, dads need to be cruel to be kind," Maes said, his voice firm but laced with the warmth of experience.
Roy shot him a sidelong glance, his lips tugging downward into a small frown. "You sound like Riza."
"Maybe," Maes replied with a shrug, unfazed by the comparison. "But it’s true. You know it as well as I do. Sometimes, you got to put your foot down and say it’s Daddy’s way or the highway if it is for their own good."
Roy exhaled sharply through his nose, his steps slowing as his gaze drifted back toward Edward. The boy still stood by the well, mud streaking his small frame and making him look even more vulnerable than usual. Riza’s calm presence was steadying him for now, but the tension in his posture spoke volumes.
"I just…" Roy started, then trailed off, shaking his head. "I hate seeing him like this. It’s different when he’s Little -- when he just lets go, and I can take care of him. But when he’s fighting it, when he’s hurting and doesn’t know how to let me in… it feels like I’m failing him. I've been failing him all month."
"You’re not failing him," Maes said, his voice steady as he gave Roy’s arm a firm squeeze. "You’re human. You’re allowed to be tired, frustrated, or even clueless sometimes. This goes both ways and it isn’t sustainable. You both need this. He needs this. You’re not just his Caregiver -- you’re his Dad.”
Roy sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly. He nodded, but his expression remained troubled as he murmured, "I try to be… Al isn't Li'l and he seems so happy when I treat him like mine and be there for him. It's a shame can't baby him..."
Maes smiled at the thought of huge metal armour being treated as a young Little by Roy. Alphonse was fine with being called "son" and having some fatherly support and attention, but the polite boy would've died of embarassment at anything Little based.
"If Al was Little, I don't think we'd be having whatever this is. Whenever that kid needs something he speaks to me. Edward always clams up... trying to be a Dad doesn’t make any of this easier."
"Of course not," Maes agreed, his tone lighter now, trying to ease some of the weight from his friend’s shoulders. "If parenting or caregiving was easy, we’d all be doing it perfectly. And let’s face it -- you’d be insufferable if you were perfect at this on top of everything else."
Roy snorted despite himself, shaking his head. "You’re an ass, you know that?"
"Always," Maes said with a grin, clapping Roy on the back. "Now go take care of your baby before he decides to jump down that well."
Maes watched as Roy gave him a look that blended exasperation with a flicker of gratitude before striding forward with purpose. He watched him head towards the village square, near the well were he stood hunched and mumbling to Riza. Being a dad was hard work -- Maes knew that all too well from wrangling his own four-year-old during her occasional "monster moments."
But being an uncle to a Little? That was a whole new kind of challenge, one Maes had come to appreciate in a completely different way. It wasn’t just about being there for the fun and games; it was about stepping up when things got tough, even if it meant playing the middleman in moments like this.
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Edward stood slightly apart from the group outside a tavern, his small frame hunched against the cold drizzle as the adults bickered around him. Their clipped, frustrated tones only deepened the ache in his chest. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, his clothes damp and heavy with mud. He was miserable in all forms: hungry, exhausted, and the muddled swirl of emotions that had been ruining him for nearly a month.
Breda was grumbling loudly about food, his patience worn thin by hunger. Havoc, pacing with agitation, looked ready to snap, his hands playing with a lighter that kept clicking when he snapped it open and shut. Maes forced a cheerfulness so strained it only seemed to make the tension worse. Roy stood with his arms crossed with a scowl and sharp glances cast toward Edward making the boy want to shrink into himself. And Riza, steady but visibly tired, exuded the kind of silence that spoke of impending frustration.
"What part of 'No room at the inn' don’t you get?" Havoc snapped, throwing his hands in the air.
"This is ridiculous!" Breda huffed with irritation. "We’re stranded here for three days because of that damn train, and there’s nowhere to stay?"
Maes smiled faintly, his effort to lighten the mood valiant but ineffective. "Three days isn’t so bad. Think of it as a little paid vacation... not exactly sun and sand, but it’s... quaint."
"It would be fine if we had a roof over our heads," Roy growled, his anger cutting through the drizzle. "Either the locals hate the military, or there’s genuinely no room."
Riza sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Surely there must be somewhere. There was only twenty or so other passengers on the train."
Havoc’s exasperation boiled over. "I’ve asked the inn, the tavern -- hell, I even tried the sleazy little hotel that charges by the hour!"
Edward stood in the periphery, trembling slightly as he rubbed at his tired eyes. The mud on his clothes felt like it weighed him down, but it was the pressure in his chest that bothered him most—the overwhelming swirl of feelings he didn’t know how to handle. Embarrassment, frustration, and a creeping sense of helplessness all tangled together, making it hard to breathe.
Biting down on his lower lip, Edward tried to focus on the conversation, but it all blurred into background noise. Then, something Havoc said caught his attention.
Softly, barely audible, he murmured, "Paying by the hour seems greedy."
The group fell silent. All eyes turned to him, their heated expressions softening in surprise. Edward flushed under their scrutiny, suddenly self-conscious. Havoc’s lip twitched, Breda looked caught off guard, and even Roy’s scowl faltered.
"It is," Edward mumbled, his gaze dropping to his muddy boots. "An hour isn’t long enough for anything, not even a nap."
The tension hanging over the group shattered. Something about Edward’s innocent logic, delivered in his small, rasping voice, pulled them out of their frustration. Amusement crept into their expressions, the anger melting away.
"God, you’re cute," Maes said with a beaming grin.
"Never change, kid," Breda muttered, shaking his head as a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
Edward blinked up at them, confused and flustered. "Don’t say that," he huffed, crossing his arms. "I’m not cute."
Havoc finally broke, letting out a bark of laughter. "Greedy, indeed."
"What’s so funny?" Edward grumbled, his voice tinged with irritation. He glanced around, annoyed by the knowing smiles and shared glances. Even Roy’s scowl had melted into something softer, making Edward’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He hated seeing soft looks from Daddy, especially knowing they must be fake masks.
Riza stepped in, her voice warm and steady. "It’s nothing, Edward. Everyone’s just a little tired and silly."
Roy cleared his throat, trying to maintain some composure. "The Lieutenant is right. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than… unusual pricing strategies."
That sent the group into peals of laughter, their voices carrying through the drizzle. Edward blinked at them, puzzled but too tired to argue. After a moment, Behind him, Maes nudged Roy with his elbow, chuckling softly. “Smooth save there, buddy.”
Roy didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on Edward, concern shadowing his features as the boy fidgeted, his small hands clenching the hem of his muddy coat.
“I need a cigarette,” Havoc muttered suddenly, his voice sharp with tension.
Before anyone could respond, a gravelly voice cut through the drizzle. “Here.” An older man, seated on the porch of the inn, extended a cigarette toward Havoc. His hand was weathered, his own cigarette perched between his lips as he spoke. Havoc hesitated before taking it with a muttered, “Thanks,” clearly caught off guard.
The man leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes flicking over the group before settling on Edward, who half-hid behind Roy’s larger frame.
“This little one with you?” the man asked, nodding toward Edward.
Roy stepped forward instinctively, placing a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Yes,” he said, his voice firm and protective.
The man raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering. “How old?” he asked, then added knowingly, “He’s Little, right?”
Edward’s face turned crimson, his hands balling into fists. “I’m fourteen!” he snapped, his voice defensive and loud.
The group responded almost in unison, their tone factual: “Baby headspace.”
Edward’s jaw dropped, his blush intensifying as he turned to glare at each of them. “I’m not—” he started, but the older man’s chuckle cut him off.
“Relax. I only recognized the signs,” the man said, waving a hand dismissively. “You remind me of my grandson who is a Li’l.” He took another puff of his cigarette before introducing himself. “Name’s Tavish. I run this place with my daughter and I can’t in good conscious leave a Li'l, especially a damn baby out here in the cold…let me speak with my daughter. She might have a solution.”
Roy’s posture eased slightly, though his hand remained steady on Edward’s shoulder. “We’d appreciate that,” he said politely.
Tavish grunted in acknowledgment and disappeared inside. As soon as he was out of earshot, Edward crossed his arms tightly, muttering under his breath. “Baby headspace… I can’t believe you all told him. I --”
Maes shushed him with a ruffle of Edward’s hair with a grin.
Edward glared. Moments later, Tavish returned with a middle-aged woman who exuded no-nonsense practicality. Her stern expression softened as her gaze fell on Edward. “I’ve got an old guest suite above the stables,” she said, holding out a key. “Two bedrooms, a bath, no frills. Double the rate of a room, no housekeeping. It better be spotless when you leave.”
Riza stepped forward, her tone smooth and professional. “Thank you. We’ll take it.”
The woman’s frown eased slightly as she glanced at Edward again. “Is he going to be okay without a crib?” she asked, her tone genuine.
Edward’s cheeks burned, and he nearly shouted, “I don’t need it! I’m Big!”
The woman exchanged a knowing look with Tavish, one that made Edward squirm uncomfortably. Roy, noticing the boy’s distress, placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” Roy said evenly. “Thank you for the offer, but we’ll manage.”
With a shrug, the woman handed over the key. “Suit yourselves. If he needs anything, come find me.”
Edward trudged behind the group, his boots sinking into the muddy ground with every step, making him feel heavier than he already did. His small frame was weighed down, not just by the grime clinging to his clothes, but by the exhaustion and unease swirling in his chest. Maes and Roy walked ahead, their voices low and steady as they discussed the group's predicament. Edward couldn’t make out their words, but he didn’t need to—he already felt like a burden. Sniffling quietly, he kept his head down, his feet dragging through the muck.
When they reached the creaky wooden stairs leading to the apartment above the stables, Edward hesitated for a moment before grabbing the handrail. Each step groaned under their weight as they climbed, the sound echoing in the quiet. Edward’s hand clung to the railing, his small fingers gripping the rough wood tightly. At the top, Riza pushed the door open with a firm shove, revealing their temporary shelter.
The musty scent of the apartment greeted them as they stepped inside. It wasn’t anything fancy --two small bedrooms, a simple bathroom, and a modest sitting area and kitchen -- but it was clean and functional. Dust sheets draped the furniture, and the faint scent of hay lingered from the stables below.
As the others began shedding their muddy coats and dropping their belongings near the entryway, Edward hesitated at the threshold. His boots left wet, muddy prints on the worn floorboards, and he froze, unsure of what to do. Riza noticed immediately and stepped over, placing steady hands on his small shoulders.
“Hold on,” she said gently, her sharp gaze assessing the mess clinging to him. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you track that mud everywhere.”
Edward nodded silently, his throat tight. He shifted awkwardly in place as the others busied themselves, their voices a low hum in the background. Riza’s hands remained firm on his shoulders, grounding him as she guided him toward the corner of the entryway
Edward grimaced, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Here?” he muttered, glancing toward the others.
His question was drowned out when Breda announced, “I’m going to grab us some food for us.”
“I’ll join you,” Havoc added, already moving toward the door. Roy stepped forward to mutter something quietly to Havoc, who gave a mock salute and an exaggerated whistle before disappearing down the stairs with Breda. Edward shuffled in place, stiffening as Riza mentioned getting the space set up and Maes offered to check on the fire and hot water.
Roy, however, knelt down in front of him, cutting through the noise. His expression was soft and sad as he reached for Edward’s boots.
“W-what are you doing?” Edward grumbled, his voice defensive.
Roy didn’t look up, his hands already unlacing the first muddy boot. “Helping my baby, what does it look like?”
“I—” Edward stammered, flustered.
“Daddy doesn’t want to hear how Big you are, cubby,” Roy said softly, sliding the first boot off with a squelch. He grimaced at the sound but didn’t comment, moving to the second boot. “Frankly, Daddy doesn’t care. I’ve been trying to respect your boundaries when Big, especially this month. But I'm putting my foot down. Daddy is going to help you get cleaned, fed, and then we’re going to have a long talk.”
Edward’s eyes went wide at the calm but commanding tone, his feet shuffling awkwardly on the tiled entryway. “T-talk?” he repeated, his voice cracking slightly.
“Yes, talk,” Roy confirmed, his tone leaving no room for argument. He slid off the second boot and looked up just in time to see Edward’s wide-eyed gaze dart toward Riza, who was pulling dust sheets off the couch and armchairs.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Edward mumbled, his voice small.
Roy stood, his height suddenly filling Edward’s vision as he loomed closer. “I think there’s plenty to talk about, little boy,” he said firmly, his tone gentling as he added, “especially after what you said about me viewing you as an obligation.”
Edward felt his stomach twist into knots, nausea creeping up as the words hit him. He’d hoped Roy had ignored that comment, let it slip by like so many of Ed’s frustrated outbursts. He fidgeted, unable to meet Roy’s gaze as the Colonel slipped off his mud-soaked coat and jacket before reaching for Edward’s belt.
“N-no,” Edward protested, trying to wiggle away, but Roy’s large hand landed gently but firmly on his back, halting his escape. With deft fingers, Roy unbuckled the belt and unbuttoned Edward’s filthy pants.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Roy murmured, his tone soothing. “It’s only us. It’s only Daddy, your Riri, and Uncle Maesy.”
But it wasn’t okay. Not to Edward. He didn’t want to be stripped down right now, even though everyone in Team Mustang -- and Maes, Gracia, and whoever else was in their lives -- had seen more of his bare butt in four months than his own Mom. Yet, it wasn’t the act of being undressed that had Edward whimpering when his pants were tugged down. It was what Roy would see.
Roy froze for a moment, his sharp eyes immediately catching sight of the heavy, soiled pull-up clinging to Edward’s hips. The brush of his fingers against Ed’s thigh revealed something worse -- a painful rash spreading along the boy’s skin. The sucked-in breath Roy took made Edward flinch, shame burning hot in his chest.
“Oh, my baby boy,” Roy said softly, his voice thick with concern. “You’ve got a rash. You told me you could handle pull-ups when you’re Big. If you needed help...”
“I don’t!” Edward snapped, his voice tearful as he pulled away. “I don’t need no h-help. I don’t need—Eddie doesn’t need no Daddy!”
Roy sat back on his heels, his expression genuinely astonished. “You don’t need a Daddy, huh?”
“I—I don’t need you,” Edward stammered, a hiccup escaping as he shivered in place. “So you can stop. Stop p‘tending you wanna.”
Roy’s expression shifted, a flicker of anger mingling with his hurt. “What?”
Edward shook his head vehemently, crossing his arms as he teetered on the spot. He couldn’t speak. If he did, he’d sob like a baby, and he wasn’t a baby. He wasn’t.
But deep down, he knew why he’d been pulling away. He knew why he’d been distant, cutting himself off. He’d overheard Roy a month ago, on the phone to someone, saying words that had felt like a dagger to the chest:
“I don’t think I can continue like this with the kid anymore.”
Edward had seen the brochures, too -- the ones about fostering and adopting Littles, with profiles of prospective matches. Roy had never said anything outright, but Ed had put the pieces together. He was temporary. An obligation. A job.
And now, he was just preparing himself for the moment when Roy found a better Little.