Disclaimer: I dinnae own it.

Part deux. I've obviously tinkered with the time line a little to account for kids + moustache, so let's disclaim that too. Think of this more as my trying to process the dainty wee black smudge seen in that wonderful photograph. Grumble.

For info, I've started a community called Superior Works in a bid to collect as much quality Mustang lit as I can. So please subscribe if you're interested. Similarly, suggestions welcomed.

I really want to direct people to check out the great story Paradigm Shift by Thousand Sunny Lyon too. Try to drop a review, because they're lovely wee things too behold and go a long way in making someone's day. It's a very deep and well written fic and well worth your attention.

Okey doke - tally ho!

Havoc resisted another stinging pang of longing for a cigarette. He pulled in a deep breath and stretched his long legs out in front of him, the action doing nothing to disrupt the small scratching noises of the boy sat drawing next to him. Surreptitiously, the lieutenant leant sideways to try to catch a glimpse of the sketch but as soon as he moved, the child shifted round and bent his small shoulders, obscuring his work.

Anticipating an over long meeting in preparation for his excursion north, Mustang had asked Havoc to look after his son until he was finished. Now sat in the main lobby of headquarters for over an hour, Havoc was beginning to wish he had prepared a lie like the others had.

He sighed. "I'm not allowed to see your drawing?"

Olly Mustang's shoulders rose and fell with his perfunctory response. "Nope."

Havoc puffed out his cheeks and crossed one ankle over the other. "Is it because it's really bad?"

The scribbling stopped. One dark eye turned on the lieutenant. "No."

Havoc rolled his eyes and sat up straighter before his face broke into a smile. "Well then why are you covering it up? Usually people only cover ugly things up."

"Is that why you cover your chin with that scruffy, fluffy hair? Because it's ugly? Is it an ugly chin?"

The scribbling continued.

Havoc's mouth fell open and another urge for a smoke gnawed at him. Feeling betrayed, he stared at the clock wondering just what was keeping Mustang. Although, he couldn't blame him for wanting to get away from the little brat for a while. With a shudder, Havoc imagined just how bad his commander must have been in his youth.

Still, the lieutenant refused to be bested by a six year old. He stretched out his arms with a long, casual groan then folded them behind his head. "No actually." He spoke through a happy sigh. "It's because I'm a man."

Olly's sketching slowed then stopped and Havoc could virtually see the cogs in his young head turning. Delicately, the boy placed his sketch pad and pencil beside him and turned to face the lieutenant. Havoc had to fight back some carnal instinct to swallow as dark, critical eyes appraised him. They roved over his gangly, long legs; his arms folded behind him and the cigarette pack poking out from his jacket before they landed on the rough goatee he was currently sporting.

The boy crossed his arms and cocked his head, a few black locks falling into his eyes. "You have a beard because you're a man or you're a man because you have a beard?"

Havoc tried to wrap his head around Olly's line of thought. "Eh... it's more like, I'm extra manly because I have a beard. Some less manly guys have bare, girly faces."

"Like Dad?"

"Yeah like – no!"

Olly propped his chin up on two fingers as he considered this new development in manliness. If he was going to be a proper big brother, tough guy and lady's man then he would have to investigate this matter further.

"But Dad doesn't even have one little teeny tiny bit of hair on his face. He only has one bit of 'unhead hair' way down-"

Havoc balked. "Bah! I don't need to know. How does a kid know that kind of thing any-"

Olly chuffed out a laugh. "Because dad always forgets to lock the bathroom door so me and Lia have to teach him a lesson. He goes really, really red and his voice gets all squeaky and squawky like this: 'Oliver get out this instant! Give me back that towel! Riza! Riza!'" The boy sighed at the reminiscence. "Riza's my mum." He finished in that pedantic way children manage to state the obvious.

Havoc let his sharp blue eyes linger on Olly before he turned back to the clock, beginning to get uncomfortable with the drift of the conversation.

"So if you have no beard whatsoever then you're a more girly kind of a man?" Olly asked, a worried sort of edge biting at his words.

"Eh... I guess. But it can be any sort of hair, like a moustache or sideburns or even chest hair counts."

"Noooooooooooo." Olly groaned and put his head in his hands. He looked up through his fingers in an alarmingly Mustang-like gesture. "Dad doesn't have any chest hair! He's not hairy at all! He's like an egg or plastic spoon!"

Havoc snickered, forgetting for the moment that he was discussing the masculine attributes of his superior when distinctively sharp footsteps could be heard ringing down the corridor. There was no doubt who they belonged to.

"Olly..." Havoc said, worried all of a sudden.

Olly was still engaged in bemoaning his father's hairlessness. If people said he got his looks from his dad, then he probably got his follicles from him too. He was doomed to being a girly sort of man.

"Olly...Olly... hey kid!"

The boy blinked and stopped the minute, anxious tapping of his feet. "Huh?"

"Please don't tell your Dad we had this chat."

Olly composed himself in an instant, sensing the opportunity to capitalise on Havoc's worry like a shark senses blood. "What's in it for me?"

Havoc grumbled then leant forward, urgency shaping his tone as the footfalls grew louder. "I'll be your friend?"

"Try again."

"Tour of headquarters?"

That prompted a derisive snort.

"Give you a smoke?"

"Nope."

"Pictures of nice girls?"

"I'm six."

"Ah..." Havoc scratched his head. Mustang would round the corner in seconds.

Olly hummed then looked at Havoc as compassionately as he could, which wasn't very much. "Look guy... this is just plain embarrassing. I can't promise I won't tell but I'll try – how's that?"

Havoc didn't have a chance to reply as Mustang came into sight and strolled up to them looking harried and more than ready to go home.

He crossed his arms and regarded the two huddled conspiratorially together.

"Well, well. What have you two been discussing?"

Not for the first time that day, Havoc wished he had a response ready and waiting. Fortunately, Olly had enough of his father's artful scheming to carry them both.

"Girls." He said with a slight curl to his lip as he spotted Roy's hairless chin.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Roy glanced at the sour face of his son in the rear view mirror. The boy had been in a bad mood since they left headquarters. Usually on their drives he would chirp away in the back seat: running over his many adventures; firing out childish, hilarious thoughts and asking questions bold enough to make a soldier blush. Now though, he didn't even bother to work at his drawing. Rather, he sat with arms folded, occasionally casting a foul look at his father.

Roy spoke with his eyes still on the road. "Look Olly, I'm sorry the meeting ran over. I didn't think it would take as long as it did."

Olly sniffed and played with his hands.

"I'm not going to say sorry again, so you may as well cheer up."

"You said sorry for the wrong thing."

"Well what am I supposed to be sorry for? It's not the vaccination thing again is it? I told you, it's Mummy who's in charge of all the healthy, safety stuff – whinge at her for once." Though Roy felt a bit guilty for trying to pass the buck, he did seem to receive an unfair portion of scrutiny from his son.

"Hair." Olly said simply and looked out the window wistfully.

Roy stole a moment to glance over his shoulder. "Hair?"

"Hair."

"Hair." Roy repeated. "Of course." He fought for an ounce of understanding of what his first born could possibly be talking about.

"It's very serious! You shouldn't have any more kids 'til you figure this out, Dad."

Now Roy was really curious, and knew of course, that somewhere at the centre of this recent episode, was Havoc.

"Olly, I'm tired, my head is melted, and I have to sit on a train for the better part of two days starting from tomorrow morning; can we please cut to the chase? Otherwise I'll be forced to drop you off with the tramps under the bridge."

"You always say that but never do it."

"I might surprise you some day."

"Yeah, you might grow some hair."

Roy quirked an eyebrow and spoke through gritted teeth. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what this was about. "I have hair, Oliver."

Olly mumbled something moodily.

"What was that?"

"Head hair, I said." Olly threw himself sideways on the seat in a rare act of true childishness. He may have been cheeky, bratty and manipulative but he was no tantrum thrower. Something must have really upset him.

"Hey-" Roy coaxed. "Well what kind of hair should I have?"

Olly sprang up to sitting again. "Manly, grown-up hair on your chin or lip or chest or legs or anywhere! Havoc said-" The child realised his small betrayal and clapped his soft hand over his mouth. He could see his father's eyes darken in the rear view mirror. 'That guy's so dead,' he thought with more than a little guilty mirth.

"I have hair on my legs." Roy defended, remembering the day he caught his team (including Riza) betting on whether he could grow a moustache or not – a caveat, apparently – for becoming Fuhrer.

"Only about as much as a peach or a duckling or something fuzzy though. If that's the case, Granny Christmas has more hair than you!"

Roy would have laughed at that if he hadn't felt so wounded. His only son was casting doubt on his masculinity. "I can grow facial hair, Olly."

"Well why don't you? Everyone thinks you're a girly man, especially Havoc. Havoc has a beard that looks like this." Olly dangled his fingers from his chin in an imitation beard.

"I knew I should have locked you in the broom cupboard instead of leaving you with Havoc."

"Only so you could hide our dark family secret: the men who can't grow beards."

Roy turned the wheel more forcefully than he truly meant to, finally approaching their house.

"There is no dark family secret. I choose not to grow facial hair and I'm not a girly man." Roy didn't fully reflect on how ridiculous he sounded, especially in light of the whine that was now colouring his voice.

"Even Fuhrer Grumman has a big, big, big, big moustache and he's barely manly at all. So you must be like, less manly than Mummy even."

The car stopped with a jolt as Roy's foot found the break a little more keenly than what was needed. He spun round in his seat, oblivious to the fact he had just lost a game of subtle, intricate connivance: Oliver Mustang had to know if he would grow up to be a manly man or a girly man and there was only one way to find out.

"You want me to grow facial hair?" Roy asked challengingly.

Olly shrugged. "Sometimes we want what we can't have."

"Don't use Daddy's advice against him! That line only applies to ice-cream, brandy and sleepovers at Rosie Kirk's house."

Olly undid his seat-belt with an unimpressed flavour of nonchalance. "You should have let me stay over."

"She's seventeen."

Olly smiled whimsically. "I know – a-twit twoo!" He mimicked a wolf whistle. Roy forgot about that particularly bad hand-me-down; he would need to wean his son off doing that or Riza would have his head.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, reconsidering the 'tramps under the bridge' idea. "Can't you just believe me when I say I can grow facial hair?"

Olly scooted over on the seat and cast a sympathetic look back at his father. "Can't you just believe me when I say Hayate ate all the cookies?"

Roy opened his own door and exited the car at the same time as his son. He saw Riza and Lia wave from the living room window. Pushing his son gently by the back in a perfect act of fatherly fondness, he grit out his response through a fake smile. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Olly replied through a similarly forced smile. "Exactly."

To say Riza missed her husband was something of an understatement. The kids had been great, keeping each other company and helping out where they could, but her empty bed was starting to eat at her.

Even Olly, who usually made a show of independence was clearly missing his father terribly, though he would never admit it. Riza would catch him looking at the calendar, counting out the days on his fingers and one morning she found him in their room dressed in Roy's military jacket. When she asked him what he was up to he told her he was looking for cash. She knew better of course.

As always, Lia missed Roy to the extent of silent tears when she was put to bed each night. Though the girl had inherited her mother's mannerisms, she was definitely a 'Daddy's Girl.' She worshipped her father, and missed playing the silly, obscure make-believe games he conjured up. One night she asked if her father was definitely coming back.

'Of course he is, Li. Why would you ask that?'

'Elysia's didn't.'

Riza's answer had been to climb into bed beside her daughter and sing 'Soldier, soldier' to her until she fell asleep. She hadn't realised she had fallen asleep herself until the following morning when Olly leapt into bed next to them.

On the day Roy was due back, she expected all kinds of colourful greetings but she did not expect to hear the horrified wails of her daughter as the door clicked shut.

Riza rushed into the house from the back porch, terrified for the moment that it wasn't Roy at all.

The woman darted past Olly who was standing in wonder by the door and put her hand on her heart at the sight of Lia cowering inconsolably against the armchair, her husband bent in front of her, his face obscured by the child's shaking head.

"Lia..." Roy half laughed, half gasped at his daughter's reaction but every time he tried to soothe her, she would scream even louder. "Lia baby."

The girl sprang back over the arm of the couch and ran clumsily to Riza, her face sodding wet and her breath coming in sharp distressed pants. She clutched at her mother's skirt, begging to be picked up.

Riza swept her up and sat her on one hip, half glancing at Roy before pushing a dark strand of hair from damp eyes. "Lia, what's the matter? Daddy's home."

The girl was starting to hyperventilate and fisted her small hands in Riza's shirt as she chanted, "No, no, no, no, no, no..."

Roy appeared beside them and placed a hand on Riza's shoulder, an action that prompted escalated terror from his daughter.

"What-" Riza began but was stopped in her tracks as she looked at her husband... and his upper lip... and the dark hair adorning it. "What, eh... what..." She sputtered. Lia lifted her head for a moment to check if the coast was clear and seeing her 'new dad' at such close proximity, indulged in even louder, more ferocious wailing.

"What's wrong with her?" Roy asked, panic clear in his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Olly's diminutive figure ghost closer.

"She... you... what..." Riza didn't quite know what to do with herself. The moustache wasn't just totally incongruous with her husband's style, character and preference but was positively villainous. "What is that?" She asked with unintentional revulsion.

Roy looked surprised for a second before he raised a finger to touch lightly at his upper lip. "This?" He laughed in a kind of 'oh – is this what all the bother is about?' way. "It's just a bit of facial hair, Riza."

He leant forward as close as he could and tapped his daughter lightly on the cheek. The girl sobbed and slowly turned to look up. "It's just a moustache, Lia. It's Daddy. I've missed y-"

The scream that broke from the girl was enough to make a curious Hayate shoot through the kitchen and into the back garden. Olly had better positioned himself to see how things played out.

Riza turned her head away sharply, half deafened by the terrorised bawling of her daughter. The girl choked messily on her tears and started truly hyperventilating.

"Oh my god, I'm killing my daughter..." Roy said with wide, alarmed eyes.

Riza walked away from her husband, bouncing the girl up and down and rubbing her back. "Shave it."

Roy recoiled. "It's just a moustache."

"Shave it." Riza repeated with less patience.

Olly giggled darkly and Roy shot him a look. "Riza, she's being irrational and I-"

"Shave. It."

Olly stepped up and addressed his father wisely. "I think you should probably shave it off now, Dad. Lia's upset."

Roy made a noise of protest that sounded a little like a car engine starting up. "B-but Olly told me to!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Roy realised how totally ludicrous his quest to appease his son's fears of effeminacy had been. His realisation wasn't quick enough to save him though. Riza turned with a still screeching Lia in her arms.

"And what about the time he told you you weren't sporty enough and you joined the boys for five-a-side football?"

Roy looked at Olly then at his feet. "I sprained my ankle."

"And the time he said Mr Mills from across the road built his son a tree house?"

Roy huffed, then huffed even louder when another chirrup of laughter sounded from his son. "It wasn't that bad."

"Two of your fingernails fell out and you couldn't write for a month."

"And I still didn't even have a tree house..." Olly assisted in the tribunal.

Roy felt decidedly singled out, and having been backed into a corner was loathe to give up the fight. Hating the idea at first, he actually didn't mind the moustache that much. At the very least he could keep it until he returned to work, making sure Havoc lost some money in the years old bet.

"I-"

"Shave."

"But-"

"Now."

Roy stormed across the room and picked up his bag roughly. "I'm keeping it until Monday." He said petulantly and made his way upstairs. "First thing tomorrow morning I'm teaching my daughter a healthy sense of proportion!" He called back.

"If you can get close enough!" Riza returned and got back to the task of shushing Lia.

Olly decided there and then that he was willing to risk being a girly man if the scene he just witnessed was the result of facial hair. The incidence of repulsion in females to that of facial hair seemed to be high: an explanation perhaps for why his Dad often joked about how Havoc was hopeless at keeping girlfriends.

Roy sank back in his bath and allowed the steaming hot water to seep into every pore. All things considered, it had been a pretty lousy day. To top it all off, his daughter was terrified of him and he had overheard her refer to him as 'the daddy-man, hobo wizard'.

He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the cold enamel. He had started to drift off to sleep when a cool draft blew across him. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Riza had entered the bathroom and was kneeling beside him.

"You should really learn to lock that door." She said with a rueful grin.

Roy smiled back in response and threw an arm over the edge of the bath. "Care to join?"

"Can't leave the kids alone for too long. I saw Olly eyeing up the medicine cupboard. He's getting good at assembling the step ladder."

"Mmm."

Riza regarded her husband with her deep, clear eyes and tried her best to ignore the monstrosity that graced his top lip. She kissed him and shuffled round to the head of the bath.

"Head massage?" She asked.

Roy moaned by way of an answer and sat a little farther up in the bath to give her access. Closing his eyes again, he gave into the strong movement of her fingers against his scalp. He didn't notice when one hand left the task to reach for the razor.

"It's good to be-" He stopped dead as the razor slid across one side of the moustache.

There was silence for a long, long time.

"Ri-"

With another deft swipe, Riza completed her mission.

Placing the razor to the side, she ruffled her husband's wet hair and stood to leave.

Roy silently fumed at the ruse and had just about gathered himself in time to see the bathroom door click shut.

Later that night, husband and wife lay in bed together: a tangle of limbs, and mess of black and blonde hair.

"Did she fall asleep okay?" Riza asked, her breath carrying across Roy's breastbone as she spoke.

"Yeap."

"Aren't you happy you look like her Dad again and not some wayward pirate?"

Roy grumbled. "You tricked me."

Riza snuggled closer and ran her hand over his smooth chest, relishing the strong heartbeat held within. "Remember when I promised to always watch your back?"

"Mmm."

"Well saving you from stupid facial hair falls into that remit; consider it a bonus."

Roy sighed and kissed the crown of his wife's head. "And what about saving me from the evils of my own spawn?"

Riza gave the question a lot of thought before answering. "Can't help you there." She said simply, then kissed Roy in the dip between his lip and nose, held herself against him and drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

Thanks as always for reading folks. Friday! Yeo!