A/n: Very little plot, just to warn you.

Disclaimer: "Mine, all mine!" Unfortunately not.

Nostalgia

Havoc stood at the edge of the road, sucking his teeth. Autumn had only just descended upon Central, yet it was uncommonly cold; a chilly wind blew through the wet streets, creeping into old windows and plucking yellowed leaves off dying trees. The sun had apparently decided it was too busy playing hide-and-seek with the woolly clouds to lend its warmth to the poor souls shivering in the city.

He stamped his heavy boots on the ground, getting rid of the dirt stuck on their soles, and made his way to a small café around the corner. He had a lot of work to finish for Mustang, but right now he was too lazy ("Too tired," he told himself) to get anything related to intellectual activity done. Sniffling, he went inside and looked round for an empty table. Most were occupied with people still huddling in their jackets, trying to keep out the cold despite the fact that the café was heated.

Havoc suppressed a sneeze, bringing out his handkerchief – he had better not catch a cold now, he thought miserably to himself – and was blowing his nose when he caught sight of a young man seated by a drizzle-specked window in a corner, a cup of half-finished coffee and a little notebook on the table. Havoc stared, furrowing his brow; he was sure he recognised the youth from somewhere. The boy was sitting with his knees crossed, a leather-bound volume in his slender hands. Long lashes nearly brushed against his well-formed cheeks, and a shock of crisp, golden hair crowned his head. He seemed entirely preoccupied with what he was reading.

Havoc's mouth fell open. Edward? No, this was not the Fullmetal Alchemist, who kept his locks in a thick braid and who usually wore colours so bright they had the potential to burn an onlooker's eyes. This man wore a crisp shirt and a buttoned waistcoat, and a sky-blue trench-coat hung from the back of his chair. Suddenly, as if he felt someone's gaze on him, he lifted his eyes and fixed them on Havoc.

That was when Havoc nearly jumped. "Alphonse Elric!" he half-cried, making the other customers in the shop glare at him in annoyance. Alphonse pursed his lips and blinked, as if confused, and then a smile blazed across his face. He got up, still clutching his book, and said, "Why, Lieutenant Havoc! I didn't expect to see you here! How are you?" He gestured to an empty seat at his table. "Sit down, won't you?"

Havoc nodded, dazed and somewhat giddy with happiness at seeing an old friend, and collapsed onto the chair, tucking away his kerchief. "I'm good, thanks," he replied finally, running a hand through his hair. "How come you're here? I thought you were in Xing?" He made a mental note of how tall the younger Elric had become; the last time he had seen him, Alphonse had been an emaciated boy of fifteen, with dull hair that hung to his frighteningly thin waist, and after that Havoc had only found out about his life through bits of hearsay and rumours. He was glad to see the boy with a healthy glow to his skin and a gleam in his eyes. "How old are you now, anyway?"

Alphonse gave a soft chuckle. "Actually, I'm returning to Xing in a few days. I'd been with my brother and Winry in Resembool for the past three months. They have a son now, you know," he boasted, swelling with pride. Suddenly remembering Havoc's other question, he quickly added, "Oh, and I'm twenty-two now."

Havoc nodded, sighing. It was a bit hard for him to come to terms with the fact that Edward Elric was a father – Heaven help the wife and kid – and that the two boys he had known were suddenly in their twenties, one with a family and the other in the midst of studies and travelling. "You're happy to be an uncle, then?" he asked, taking off his damp jacket and tossing it on the table, shivering slightly.

Alphonse was practically radiant with pleasure, and Havoc couldn't hide a smile. Alphonse had always been very affectionate – he needed people to love and to coddle. With regard to that, he hadn't changed a bit. "Of course! I haven't been this happy in a while, actually. The boy's adorable – almost exactly like Ed was when he was a kid – and it's nice to have someone to fuss over." He paused, a shadow passing over his brow, and Havoc frowned, a spark of worry in his chest for Alphonse. Finally, the younger continued in a slightly strained voice, "Especially since I don't plan on having any kids. At least, not any time soon."

Havoc's eyebrows nearly disappeared under his hair. "You – but – " he stammered. "I always thought you'd have children before your brother!" Embarrassed at his less-than-polite outburst, he added, "You just...seem the sort who'd make a good father, and who'd enjoy being one." Suddenly he started. "Oh, is it because you haven't found a girl yet? I wouldn't worry about that, Alphonse. You're still pretty young, and not lacking in looks, either." He gave a cheeky grin. "And you're smart, too. Really, don't get depressed because your brother's already married. Twenty-three's pretty young to be a parent, anyway." He leaned back in his seat, satisfied with his answer.

Alphonse's reaction was disappointing. He inclined his head in a sort of mournful bow, gave a wry smile, said, "It's not that, Sir," and left it at that. His voice held a tone that was not to be argued with; it was tactful, but resolute as a tree root stuck in a brick wall.

Havoc was saved from humiliation by a plump waitress who came up to them and, in her politest un-pressing tones, asked if they were finished, because it was six in the evening and they would be closing soon. "We're nearly done," said Alphonse with a smile, looking up at her. She blushed, gave a nervous laugh, and scuttled away, patting down her curly hair.

"Sorry I disturbed your reading," Havoc muttered when she was gone, lowering his gaze to the table, feeling uncomfortable.

"Not at all," returned Alphonse. "I've already read it once."

"What's in on?" asked Havoc, eyeing the foreign language the cover was written in.

Alphonse's eyes brightened again, making Havoc mentally breathe a sigh of relief. "Alkahestry," he said. "It seems very similar to our own Alchemy at first, but once you really think about it, it's really different. I won't go into the technicalities of it, but it took me nearly a year to even get the hang of the basics. It's absolutely vast in scope." He talked about it animatedly, gesturing with his hands, with small tosses of the head and with shrugs of the shoulders, in a charming manner that practically embodied his personality.

At length Alphonse paused for breath, his cheeks suffused with a pink tinge, and said, "Sorry for talking about it so much; I just find it so interesting. Getting off-topic, how are things in the military?"

So Havoc was forced (albeit cheerfully) to talk about his own life, about how he regularly needed to exercise his legs, about how Lieutenant Hawkeye was probably going to get promoted again, about how Mustang was really acting like he had a stick shoved up his arse (as if he didn't do that often enough), and about Breda's new girlfriend who made him forget all his paperwork, and Alphonse laughed, shaking with mirth, and Havoc found himself laughing, too. To be honest, he couldn't remember when he had last laughed like this, with a tight feeling in his throat, with his fingers in his hair, with no regard for the people around him.

Then a bell rang and the waitress from earlier announced that it was closing-time, and the two men picked up their coats and packed their things and went outside. It was colder than before, but Havoc felt little of it; his blood was warm with the heaters from the café and with affection for Alphonse, who was now slipping his coat over his shoulders, and Havoc was once again startled at how much he had grown. He looked less a boy than a man, and Havoc secretly wished he would stay longer so that they could have another talk; lately his friends had been preoccupied with work, and he'd found himself getting lonely in his small apartment and his lack of time with Mustang and Breda.

Alphonse turned to him, fixing the belt on his trench. "It was really nice talking to you, Sir." Then, to Havoc's profound joy, he said, "I know I'm leaving soon, but would you like to come over to my apartment for tea or something tomorrow? It's a short notice, so I won't be annoyed if you don't."

"Are you mad? Of course I'll come! Our meeting today was all too short. And I'll bring along some biscuits my ex made some days ago."

"Oh, Lieutenant," Alphonse chided, though he was smiling abashedly; his hair fell into his eyes with the wind, and he pushed it back.

They parted ways with waves and grins, and Havoc chewed his lip as he realised he already missed the youth and his sunny attitude. He tried to get rid of the sad little pang in his chest as he went back home, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The cold was creeping back into his bones, and he sneezed loudly. When he reached his apartment, he immediately sat at his cluttered desk and began his work. He didn't want to think about how dull life had been lately. He wanted to call Mustang, but the man would likely yell at him for disturbing him.

Suddenly he jerked his hand, making a mark across the page he was working on. Realisation dawned on him. "Alphonse, you fool," he thought half-heartedly, sighing. How could he have missed something so obvious? I don't plan on having any kids. The boy was obviously in love – it was probably unrequited, or at least unattainable.

Frowning, he decided he would have a small 'chat' with Alphonse the next day, but then stopped short.

Alphonse was a grown man. Surely he knew what he was doing. Havoc shook his head fondly, and returned his attention to his work. He would ask about it later, and if Alphonse didn't want to talk, so be it.

It was enough that he was catching up with a fellow adventurer.

Yes, the last part was somewhat ironic.

If you have read my AlMei stories, you will know that I am not implying that Alphonse is a homosexual; he merely has no right to marry Mei because of political reasons.

Please review. :)