Problem? What Problem?
A/N: This story takes place in the same AU-ish world as "The Unweaving." I hadn't planned on a sequel, but then Dailenna put this little blot bunny in my ear, and I couldn't help it. Enjoy!
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"…so we'll likely end up sending a security detail down south," Roy told his visitors, picking up his martini from the small table beside the armchair, "just to have a presence there, even though I doubt we'll really need it." He glanced aside as Alphonse came into the living room, a large tray in each hand. "Those look heavy, Al," he said, returning the glass to the table and starting to rise. "Let me help you."
"No, you sit right back down, Roy ," Al smiled with a slight headshake. "This is my job tonight, and I want the three of you to relax."
Roy obeyed reluctantly, subsiding into the chair even though he continued to keep watch. Al came further into the room, with his inevitable shadow, the young female calico cat named Maesy, trotting briskly behind him. The low, flickering light from the fireplace set the boy's light brown hair glowing and darkened his grey eyes almost to black as he paused, surveying the inhabitants of the room. He bent over the side table between Riza Hawkeye's armchair and the couch where Jean Havoc's long form sprawled (with the marmalade cat, the male Edo, purring on one leg), and set down a tray of appetizers without mishap. Then he crossed in front of the fireplace, to put the other on the little table beside Roy's glass.
Obviously Roy's vigilance had been unnecessary, even if it had become a well-developed habit. Al cast a fond smile of reassurance at the older man before straightening up again. Maesy sat patiently waiting by his left foot.
Havoc grabbed one of the appetizers and popped it into his mouth. "Al," he remarked around the mouthful, chewing enthusiastically, "this is really good."
"I'm glad you think so. I thought they turned out pretty well," the young man smiled his thanks. He looked a bit flushed, and his white shirt clung to him in a couple of spots, but he seemed to be enjoying his preparations.
Roy chose an item from his own tray – some sort of pastry puff – and bit into it, flooding his mouth with the taste of crab. "'Pretty well' is an understatement," he said. "This is spectacular."
"I tell you, kid," Havoc continued, grabbing another couple of morsels and feeding a chunk of crab to Edo despite a forbidding glance from Hawkeye, "some day you're going to rival your wife as a cook."
At which Al rolled his eyes and shot back over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen, "Since I never plan to get married, I really doubt that." And he disappeared, his shadow trotting behind him, to continue his preparations for dinner. Tonight was the very first time he was serving a full meal to a set of guests, after learning as much as he could about cooking from his guardian, and Roy knew he wanted everything to be perfect. The aromas issuing from the kitchen for the last hour were mouth watering.
Once his young ward had vanished, Roy leaned back and stretched a lazy pair of legs out in front of him, holding his martini glass on his stomach. Crossing his ankles as he looked across at Hawkeye, he raised his eyebrows and commented, "You see, Riza? I told you. He's not even interested in girls right now."
The woman sighed, her face resuming the patient look that had been irritating him all week whenever this subject arose. She pushed a long tendril of blond hair behind one ear. "Roy, didn't you hear him just now? That little break in his voice?"
"Maybe he's getting a cold, I don't know. But he's not showing any really obvious signs."
"Well, boss," Havoc inserted doubtfully, "he's grown about an inch in the last six months. That's usually a sign." He stroked the marmalade cat, absently, a couple of times.
"But he's just a kid," Roy insisted. "And he's still getting his feet on the ground from being back in his body. Puberty is the last thing he's ready for, on top of everything else."
"Roy," Hawkeye reminded him gently, "even if he seems a lot younger sometimes, he is seventeen. Ready or not, it's happening to him. In fact, it's overdue."
"Which means," Havoc remarked, stuffing another appetizer into his mouth, "it might have to make up for lost time. So it's probably going to hit with a bang. So to speak," he added, then cringed a little as his superior officer scowled across the room. Edo jumped off his leg and stalked away.
Roy's two subordinates were absolutely convinced on the subject, and he was surprised how much it bothered him. It wasn't that he didn't want the youngster to grow up. He just worried – a lot – that Al was still getting used to being in his body, and really didn't need the extra complications of puberty when he hadn't fully adjusted to merely being normal again.
Alphonse was such an odd mixture at the moment: fully competent in emergency situations, friendly in social situations but still wary and a little unsure how he should relate to everyone. It was like he was an adult in a crisis, after experiencing so many of them in his travels with Ed, but he remained much younger in day-to-day dealings with people. He'd never really had a chance just to live an ordinary life, day after day. Sometimes the very ordinariness of things so bewildered him that he doubted himself, doubted that he'd ever really be normal.
And sometimes the bodily sensations overwhelmed him – even now, almost ten months after his human form had been restored. Roy remembered, with a shudder, Al's first (and only) day on the part-time job Gracia had offered him about five months ago, helping in the flower shop she'd started. Halfway through the day, she had called Roy at the office, worried because Al seemed to have broken down and had run in a panic out of the shop, she wasn't sure where. Roy had rushed home to find the youngster huddled, shivering and distressed, in bed with the covers over his head, while Maesy walked back and forth across the lump in the bed, mewing.
The kid had only spent ten minutes in the greenhouse behind the shop, before the heavy, humid, powerful swirl of smells – scents of flowers, smell of the dirt, tang of fertilizer, general moist, aromatic miasma of growing things – had overwhelmed his senses until he couldn't handle it any more. He'd had to escape the flood of sensation before it suffocated him.
This had happened in other contexts too, and for a while these attacks where it was all just too much occurred as often as two or three times a week. They tended to take place in crowds, or closed spaces, or somewhere in which one type of sensation drowned out the others. (Roy wouldn't dare take Al to see a concert, for example, that featured a lot of loud drumming or where the brass instruments predominated.) It was fortunate that the balance at home seemed to be just right; the boy never seemed to face that sort of attack here. Thank goodness.
And he was getting a bit better. Slowly. Yet Roy was privately beginning to wonder if the kid would ever entirely readjust to the world of the five senses. Still, the attacks weren't happening as often any more. And Al had even begun his medical lessons, after Roy had found him a small study group associated with the medical school. It was led by Master Yuen, a Xingian doctor who knew something about balance. The man had been a godsend, and it was probably because of him that Al had found whatever stability he now had.
Although the doctor, in private communication, had attributed this as much to Roy as Roy did to him. That wasn't true, of course, but Roy couldn't help a burst of warm satisfaction when he thought of it. His primary goal in life, to his surprise, seemed to have become to keep Alphonse safe, and help him grow to be a perfectly normal young man. But still…throw puberty into the current mix, as precarious as Al's equilibrium really was, and who knew what disasters could follow?
Hawkeye and Havoc were simply wrong. They had to be. It just couldn't happen now.
Roy emerged from his musings to find both of his companions watching him, sporting almost identical knowing looks. He pursed his lips and took a larger-than-prudent gulp of his martini. He was still coughing when Alphonse emerged again from his warm, aromatic domain.
"If the three of you would like to come in," the young man addressed the group in general, "I've got everything ready in the dining room." His voice wobbled slightly, as his nervousness briefly betrayed itself. But the voice didn't break, Roy was certain. He rose to his feet and motioned his guests to precede him to the dining room, resolutely avoiding their eyes.
They'd made the occasion as informal as they could, so Al could just concentrate on the food and not have to worry about maintaining an atmosphere. He knew, of course, that Roy would have done what he could to help if they'd gone more formal, but above all, Roy wanted to make sure that this was all Alphonse's evening as much as possible.
Which was why Havoc had showed up in jeans and a plaid shirt, while Roy wore casual slacks and a grey shirt. Hawkeye's hair hung loose about her shoulders, but she still managed to look cool and elegant in navy slacks and a matching navy shirt with sharp, clean lines. If he weren't so determined to avoid her knowing glances, Roy might have complimented her on how great she looked this evening. He didn't get to see her in civilian clothes nearly as often as he'd like to.
The three of them sat down to white bowls on a crisp white tablecloth, the bowls containing servings of steaming onion soup, with a basketful of warm sliced crusty bread as accompaniment in the centre of the table. Al hovered briefly while they ate, and Roy flashed him a smile of encouragement. So far, it was as good as the man had expected. Al really enjoyed cooking, and as a result he had soaked up instructions and techniques like a sponge. Roy had cautioned him not to try anything too complicated for his first time, and the young man had followed his advice.
As they were finishing their soup, Al brought in a large silver platter which, when he set it on the table and swept off the warming lid, revealed a feast of grilled chicken breast stuffed with goat cheese and roasted red peppers, grilled vegetables fresh from the garden, and wax beans sautéed with walnuts and lemon. The combined aromas swept out from under the lid in a warm, delicious rush. The youngster expertly served each plate from the platter, then beamed at his guests as he poured them glasses of the light white wine Roy had helped him choose. Roy looked up as his own glass was filled, and favoured his housemate with another proud smile.
And realized with a pang that Al was indeed considerably taller than he'd been even six months ago. Havoc might, in fact, have underestimated how much the boy – the young man – had grown.
For one moment of reeling vertigo, Roy fought the urge to burst into hysterical laughter as the twin thoughts swirled madly through his head: first, that Edward would have been furious at this development, but mostly, that all hell might be about to break loose and there was nothing he could do about it.
His eyes darted across the table, to find both of his lieutenants watching him. Again. Hawkeye, suppressing a little smile, bent to slice delicately through the tender chicken breast and lift a forkful to her mouth, while Havoc leaned back in his chair, looked quite deliberately at Alphonse, and remarked, "You're sure growing, Al. If you keep going like this, you'll end up taller than Mustang, here."
Roy glared at him, but his subordinate wouldn't even look at him, instead watching the youngster over the rim of his wine glass.
Al took his seat to Roy's left, finally free just to sit down for a while and eat with the others. He looked cheerfully at the man across the table from him. "Oh no," he said. "Roy's always going to be taller than me. I'm quite sure I won't grow any more than this. Would you like more chicken, Jean? That's quite a small piece."
"Thank you, I'm fine. This is very good, by the way. You've got a natural talent, I think. And you didn't use alchemy or anything?"
Al laughed. "No. Teacher always told us that we should only use alchemy for important things. I mean – " he paused, briefly flustered, his cheeks lightly colouring – "I mean, having you here for dinner is important – I didn't mean it wasn't. I just mean – "
"Don't worry, I know what you mean." Havoc waved away his young host's distress with a little sweep of his glass. "But that makes the meal even more impressive."
"I agree," Hawkeye nodded. She lifted her own glass. "In fact, I think we should toast Alphonse for the excellent work he's done." She looked at Roy, waiting as he took up his wine, and then proclaimed, "To Alphonse Elric, a budding chef and a very gracious host."
"To Alphonse," Havoc agreed with another wave.
"To you, Al," Roy smiled, raising his glass. He sat in silence for several moments as the conversation continued around him, just watching the boy and enjoying Al's pleasure. The kid really had come a long way, since the moment he'd returned to his body, weak and afraid, opening grief-stricken eyes for the first time on the sight of his dead brother in Roy's arms. To see him now, strong and vital, flushed with happiness at his successes this evening…Roy didn't know how anything could be better than this.
Al paused briefly as Hawkeye and Havoc conversed, and glanced over at Roy, sharing a private smile. So much of the time, the boy seemed to know what he was thinking. Well, good. Then tonight he'd recognize just how glad the older man was for him, how grateful he was that he had the chance to share Al's life, his growth, his successes, and even his failures. That's what families did, and Alphonse was his family now. His little brother.
"So tell me, Al," Havoc's voice broke into their shared moment. "You're studying medicine with that Xingian doctor's group, right? How do you like your studies? And," the man added with a smirk and a sly little wink, "are there any cute girls in the group? Had any dates yet?"
A long silence as Alphonse stared at him, cheeks swiftly darkening to pink. At last the young man lowered his eyes, cutting into a piece of roast potato as he replied, "I love the studies, and I'm glad I decided to go into medicine. All of us in the group are becoming good friends, whether we're men or women. We're all enjoying what we're learning, way too much to waste our time with anything else."
Havoc, Roy decided in the small part of his brain that remained rational. He would strangle Havoc first.
And Hawkeye would be next, if she didn't change the subject this minute. He himself didn't dare speak, or he'd find himself on his feet, throwing knives across the table.
The woman met his glare with an amused twitch of her lips, but dutifully obeyed his silent yet unmistakable command. "That's probably wise, Alphonse," she remarked with a nod. "You'd hate to get too distracted from your studies. What have you been learning lately?"
And as Al launched into an enthusiastic recap of the major systems of the body from both the Amestrian and Xingian points of view, Roy's blood pressure gradually eased back to normal. (A few gulps of the wine definitely helped.) So it only took a couple of minutes before he could rejoin the conversation like a civilized human being, tossing in an anecdote about Xingian acupuncture that he'd heard in Ishbal. And even Havoc, probably sensing how close he had come to being carved up with the chicken, let his pet preoccupation drop for a while and finally returned to chatting normally. Showing only slight unease now and then in response to Roy's watching eyes.
The rest of the evening passed very pleasantly, the three adults eventually adjourning back to the living room to let dinner settle. While Al made a pot of coffee in the kitchen, Roy added wood to the fire. Then he and Hawkeye resumed their original seats on either side of the fireplace, while Al sat at the other end of the couch from Havoc, so he could easily jump up and return to the kitchen when it was time for dessert. Maesy immediately hopped into her accustomed position on Al's lap, while Edo sat on the floor facing Havoc and Hawkeye, looking from one to the other as he tried to decide who would next have the honour of petting him.
The conversation meandered lazily as they grew more relaxed (Edo finally having decided on Hawkeye, curling up in her lap and immediately dropping off to sleep). The almost waterlike sound of the flames and the occasional pop of a log accompanied their talk as they ranged from Al's studies, to things going on at the office, to what the cats had been up to this morning, and even to the subject of Edward. They all suspected that Ed might have been a bit bemused at Al's extensive culinary adventures, but he agreed wistfully that his brother would have been proud even so.
"Have you heard from Winry lately?" Havoc wondered with a drowsy yawn. Roy threw him a sharp glance, but the question seemed to have been meant genuinely, rather than as another little hint about Al's emergence into adulthood.
"Oh yes," Al nodded. "She's moved to Rush Valley now, did you know? She's learning more about automail manufacture, and studying a little medicine too."
At the mention of medicine, the speculative glint sparked again in Havoc's eyes, and Roy could almost hear him thinking something like, "Keep it all in the family." But at his superior's warning glare, he clearly decided against saying anything. Wisely.
Shortly after that, Al gently dislodged Maesy from his lap and headed back into the kitchen, this time producing small bowls of fruit with a dollop of ice cream for dessert. He topped up everyone's coffee, and they ate in companionable silence as the fire slowly burned down again and the cats waited for someone to accidentally (or, in Al's case, deliberately) drop them a couple of small dabs of ice cream.
At last the two lieutenants stood, took their bowls into the kitchen, and made moves to leave.
"You did a superb job, Alphonse." Hawkeye set her hands on his shoulders and gave him a light kiss on one cheek. "Everything was delicious. If you ever decide against continuing in medicine, I think you could already have another career lined up."
Roy helped her put on her jacket, and opened the door for her as Havoc shoved his arms into his own jacket. "She's right, Al, it was great," the other man said. "Don't quit medicine, though, 'cause you'll be even better at that. But don't just bury yourself in books either, okay?" For a final time that evening he gave a sly wink and remarked, "Get a girlfriend and live a little too, all right? Girls are fun." He gave Al's hair a fond ruffling, then caught sight of Roy's expression, yipped a quick, "Well, goodnight, then," and darted out the door after Hawkeye.
After shutting the door behind them with a firm click, Roy put an arm around his ward's shoulders. "They're right, Alphonse. You were a perfect host, and the food was delicious. Well done. I hope you feel satisfied with everything?"
"Thanks, Roy. I really do. I was a little nervous just before they got here, but then I calmed down and it all just seemed to go like it was supposed to." Al bent and picked Maesy off the floor, cradling her against his chest as Roy returned to his arm chair to finish the last of his coffee. "It was a bit odd, though…," the young man mused, following him slowly into the living room.
"What was?"
"Is Jean…feeling lonely or something? He sure had women on his mind tonight, didn't he?"
Roy carefully set his coffee mug back on the side table, and sighed to himself. He really knew, deep down inside, that his lieutenants were right, about everything. But he had hoped not to have to have this conversation just yet, especially not this late in the evening.
"Well," he began carefully, "it isn't actually himself he's thinking of, as you must have noticed. He's thinking of you, Alphonse."
"Me?" The boy's eyebrows shot up. "Why would he be thinking of m – oh. Oh, you mean that." His eyes grew wide, the flickering light again making them appear darker than they were.
"Yes, Al – that. I hadn't really thought of it yet, but Jean and Riza have been reminding me that, well, you're seventeen. Which is actually rather late, but you haven't even been back in your body for a year yet, so it never occurred to me that this issue would come up so soon."
"Yeah, I hadn't really thought of it either," Al agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully on Maesy's head as she kneaded against his chest. "But you really don't have to bother about it."
"I think we do have to bother, though, Al. I can see some changes already – how tall you've gotten, suddenly, and maybe your voice breaking a little." Roy hated that he suddenly felt like he was fifty years old. How had he come to be in a position where he had to have The Talk with a seventeen year old? But of course, if he considered Alphonse his little brother.
He stifled the hysterical thought that Ed was getting some kind of posthumous revenge for something or other, and made himself soldier on. "It might be best," he went on more grimly than he intended, "if we have a talk about what's going to happen, so you know what to expect. Maybe starting with, well…" He paused again, and took the plunge. "…maybe starting with the sort of dreams you might exper – "
"No, we don't need to talk about all that, Roy," Al told him with a light laugh. "I can tell you hate doing this, and you really don't have to. It's not going to be a problem."
"But I don't think it's wise just to ignore it and be unprepared. We do need to talk, Al. If not this minute, then in the next day or two."
"No we don't. It's not going to be a problem, because none of it is going to happen. So don't worry about it."
"What do you mean – it's not going to happen? Of course it's going – "
"I decided I'd rather not bother with all that puberty business," Al told him cheerfully, "so I used my alchemy and made it stop. Permanently."
"You what??" Roy yelled, leaping to his feet.