(Genie AU I occasionally play around in. Updates will generally be slow.)

—

Roy isn't really sure why the ring caught his eye, out of the rest of all the dusty wares and trinkets in the mildewing pawn shop. God knew he didn't want to be there, let alone actually buy anything, but he chalks it up to the fact that he is a far too kindhearted friend, unable to allow even his employees to walk into potential danger without his protection.

And god knows that Kain would have been mugged ten times over if Jean hadn't made a habit of keeping him company downtown.

Roy isn't sure why they were being so distant with each other lately, and actually he isn't sure he wants to, but when he heard that Kain would be heading to one of the town's seedier areas despite not having a certain hulking blond for company, he refused any argument when assigning himself as escort.

Though upon actually getting there, and wondering if they were going to end up on the six o'clock news due to the sudden collapse of an obscenely old building, he did wish that Kain was a little more… street smart.

Still, he left him to his own devices, digging through boxes and poking around shelves as Roy pretended to peruse the jewelry section, not wanting anything but also not wanting to antagonize the very, very large man behind the counter.

And that's when he saw it.

The gold seemed to be oddly yellow to be grouped with rings marked as "imitation precious metals," and when Roy reached down and picked it up delicately between two fingers, it was almost warm, like someone had handled it several minutes ago and then discarded it yet again amongst its unwanted brethren. At first glance he would have noted it as a wedding band, but when he looked closer, he wasn't so sure. The symbols cut into the metal could have been only an aesthetic decoration, but they seemed to have more purpose than that. He couldn't quite place them: evocative of Nordic, perhaps, or Sumerian, or even Egyptian, never mind that the three looked nothing alike, with an intricacy that would have been remarkably impressive for a truly valuable piece, let alone one tossed into a stack in front of a sign that read "2 for $75."

He rolled it in his fingers, the runes—were they runes? Were they letters?—catching in the flickering fluorescent light, and Roy suddenly wondered very intently what they read, and if it would fit him—

The sound of a collision that caused a near-crash jerked him out of his reverie, and he whirled to see Kain staggering up to the counter with several pieces of what looked like old junk piled high in his arms.

"Find anything interesting?" Roy asked dryly, striding over to scoop up a good half of the mess. Some of what he could identify was radios, but he didn't even bother trying to place the rest of it.

"Y-yeah! This place was like a treasure trove!" Kain grunted, shifting the remainder of the load in his arms. "What about you? You seemed kinda interested in something."

Roy tried not to snort; the idea that anything in this place could catch his attention was laughable, though he didn't tell Kain that. It clearly served certain purposes very well, but Roy had very different hobbies.

"Unfortunately not. Now hurry and check out before I start coughing up dustballs."

Kain snorted, but headed off before any further words were exchanged.

—

The trip was barely memorable four days later. No, Roy would soon have much more important things about which to worry than finding himself in a seedy pawn shop for an hour or so.

Like the fact that he was going to be very late for work.

Back when Roy had scouted a location for his firm, he had made the mistake of using Google maps to estimate his travel distance and plan his schedule around that. Ten minutes was not a bad drive, certainly.

Unfortunately, Google maps had not accounted for the morning traffic, and for some reason, he had yet to manage to trick his mind into realizing that he had to leave more than fifteen minutes before he needed to be there.

Not that he could technically be punished, not when he owned the place, but the inevitable repercussions from Riza would not be pretty.

"Shit," he hissed to himself, several sheets of paper that he had nearly forgotten clamped between his teeth as he dug in his coat pockets for his keys. Fashionable as it was, it had far too many of those pockets, and it was 8:13 and his car wasn't even on yet...

"Yo."

Roy stopped short, glancing around, and his eyes settled on the short form standing in his driveway, too close to his gleaming blue Ford Mustang for comfort. Especially with the way the kid was dressed: the red hoodie was worn and not quite ragged, but could do with replacing. The jeans had faded areas and Roy spotted a few tears around the knees. On top of all that, the long blond hair, braided back but with strands escaping, made Roy think a bit too much of rebellious youth with naught but mischief in mind.

He lifted his free hand to yank the papers out from between his teeth, tucking them underneath his other arm instead. "Can I help you?" he snapped, digging into his right pocket for the third time before realizing that yes, he'd already checked that one, try another—

"Not really," the kid drawled, the cockiness of his tone unsurprising, the way he was smirking at Roy. "I'm the one who's gonna help you."

"Then help me find my keys," Roy snapped. Normally he would have enjoyed taking the time to weave a net of words, to set up a match of verbal sparring that entrapped its victims before they even realized, but right now—

He was so very, very late.

"Check your pocket," the kid said with a shrug, nodding at the pocket that Roy's hand had just left. Roy shoved his hand in instinctively, despite preparing to tell him to get lost—

And he felt metal.

He glanced down at them for approximately two seconds in surprise before deciding to take the small blessing and unlocking the door. Tossing his briefcase and a stack of paperwork into the passenger seat, he pulled his head back out and shot the kid an exasperated look.

"You should leave. Please don't loiter on my property. It isn't polite."

"I'm not," the kid replied, walking past Roy, towards the house, then... around the front of Roy's car. "I'm sticking with you."

"Sticking with... me." Roy couldn't keep the flat tone from his voice. "Look, I don't know who you are—"

"Consider me your personal assistant." Cheeky little interrupting shit, wasn't he? "You want something, I grant it." He lifted his hands out of the front pocket of his hoodie and wiggled his fingers. "Like magic."

"Right, so you're a magical fairy creature, then?" Roy snapped, wishing he could get in his car but not wanting to leave the kid attended in his driveway. "Or ancient genie, maybe? I rub a lamp? Get three wishes?"

"Closest, I guess," the kid replied with a shrug, his tone, as far as Roy could hear, completely serious, and he had to keep from rolling his eyes. "Only no limit on the amount of wishes. As long as you're not irresponsible with them."

"Irresponsible. Right." Roy had never been irresponsible a day in his life. Not once. He couldn't help being a bit miffed at the accusation. "And what does that mean?"

The kid just grinned.

Roy rolled his eyes, then checked his phone. 8:16. Even more shit.

"How about making it so I'm not late for work?" He shook his head and opened the door, impatient and tired of arguing. "Do something useful."

He set in the seat and slammed the door, thinking that was that, and it was—until the passenger door opened.

Roy swore it had been locked.

"Gotta say the magic words." That drawl again, and the kid was moving Roy's papers to the back seat—and Roy could do nothing but gape at the audacity.

"You can't just—you—what—"

And then the kid was crawling into his car, Roy's car, and buckling himself in.

"Magic words. And no, not please. C'mon, humor me."

He grinned wolfishly, and Roy, for some reason, couldn't bring himself to argue the kid's presence in the car. He struggled with the notion for a moment, then chalked it up to his desire not to be late.

"Fine," he snapped, throwing the car in reverse and slipping back out of his driveway at a rather unsafe speed. "I wish that I would get to work on time."

—

The clock read 8:27 when he pulled into the parking lot.

It did, of course, flick to 8:28 as he was staring at it in a daze. That... it wasn't possible. Wasn't remotely possible. In all his life, Roy had never driven down Affinity Avenue and encountered no traffic, let alone hit every single green light.

"This isn't possible," he murmured, blinking at the clock yet again.

"Hey, I fucking told you—"

"Make your hair turn blue."

"Hey, man, what the fuck!"

But before the kid had even finished speaking, that golden hair had turned blue.

Roy blinked slowly, once, then twice. Then he leaned forward, his head thumping onto the steering wheel.

"This isn't possible."

"Well, apparently it is. God, I look like a fucking—"

"Turn your hair back," Roy ordered tiredly, eyes closing. He needed to get to work, and he didn't need to worry about this, but apparently this kid—this genie—was going to follow him around—

"What's your name?"

"Edward," the kid replied, and Roy could hear him shuffling around, undoing his seatbelt. "Call me Ed, though."

Roy took a deep breath, then switched off the car, pulling back. He reached to the back seat before catching sight of Ed again and pausing.

"If you're going to follow me around, make yourself look older." Roy scowls. "I can't have some thirteen-year-old—"

"I do not look thirteen!" For the first time since meeting him, Ed looked pissed, but regardless, his features shifted...

Roy should probably have not been so close to Ed's face. He snatched up the papers and drew back quickly, snapping, before he could think about it, "Not like that!"

Ed scowled, golden eyebrows furrowing above golden eyes, the traces of pouty teenager gone and leaving something more... refined. Handsome. "Like what? I did what you said!"

Roy squeezed his eyes shut. He ran his fingers over his thumb, curling his right hand into a fist, running the base of his left palm over it thoughtfully.

"How long can you stay that way?"

"Long as I want. The other look was just 'cause I picked it. I'm a fucking lot older than I look now, you know."

"How old—no, don't answer that."

With a deep breath, he pulled back, opening his eyes. Clarity wasn't quite the right word for the emotion that washed over him. Determination, maybe. Work. He needed to get to work. He would sort this out later, at some point. Today, even. But right now, he needed to focus on not being murdered by Riza, because not even a wish could save him from something so thoroughly deserved.

Even if Ed had just gotten unfairly hot.

"Fine," he sighed, dropping his hands and picking the papers back up. "If you're going to follow me, then I have to get inside." He opened the door, waiting for Ed to do the same before locking the car, and headed quickly towards the building, Ed in tow. He noticed, with a bit of confusion, that despite looking older, Ed's short height had not changed.

"Roy Mustang. A lawyer, huh?" he asked, eyeing the name on the doors. "Wow, guess I didn't score too badly, after all."

Roy rolled his eyes, but... really, there was no heart in it as he held open the door.

"Don't make a nuisance of yourself," he ordered, watching Ed critically, he told himself, making sure that he kept up not looking like a teenager, as the kid sauntered through.

He wasn't sure if the grin Ed flashed him left him reassured or concerned.