Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Title: Adventures in Babysitting Side Story
Pairing: Hints of future RoyxEd, one-sided (?) MaesxRoy
Rating: PG13 (language)
Timeline: AU
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Roy Mustang has his work cut out for him when he takes a job babysitting the well-known and much-feared local hellions, otherwise known as the Elric brothers.
AN: After much, much blood, sweat, and tears (and procrastination), I ultimately decided to split what was going to be almost 8500 words of Chapter 11 into two parts, the first of which is what you see here- a side story, of sorts. My reasons for this are twofold. Reason #1: this part does not involve any actual babysitting. Reason #2: I will divulge in the AN at the end.

Spell-checked only.

Adventures in Babysitting
Side Story

Trisha Elric eased into her son's room like a thief in the night. But the only thing she wanted to steal was a glimpse.

She crept over to his bed and knelt down at the edge, smiling sadly at the stubborn little cowlick that poked out from the blanket that buried him. But because she desperately wanted- no,needed- to look at him right now, she slowly peeled it back to reveal his sleeping face, so precious and lovely and angelic in his slumber, feeling the sting give way to the flood as she clapped a hand over her mouth and wept silently. It was a skill she had honed over many, many years now; she wasn't sure if she was even capable of crying out loud anymore. Perfect wives and mothers did not do such abhorrent things, after all.

Oh, how many tears had she shed for this boy over the past eight years? How often had she been forced to watch his torment because of that damned automail, whether from the physical pain of having it attached or adjusted, or the emotional pain of the taunting children who feared it? How many times had she just wanted to take him and run away from all of the suffering he had already known at such a young age… and the suffering yet to come? How many sleepless nights, much like this one, had she spent wondering, worrying, and praying for his happiness and his safety?

And now came a new worry, one that paralyzed her more than the others combined:

What if something happened to her and he was left in Hohenheim's care?

Before his return, she had been content in the knowledge that Pinako would see after the boys in her absence. Although the little old woman was a bit rough around the edges and swore more than anyone she had ever known in her life, Trisha knew that they would be provided and cared for. She might have even been content with Hohenheim had he retained even a fraction of the personality he had before he left, although it was hard to believe that there had ever even been a time when he was the perfect husband and father. Now, the thought of Ed and Al being left to Hohenheim in the event of her untimely death was more frightening than the idea of death itself.

Trisha wiped her face and tried to regain some semblance of composure. She was no good to her children or herself as an emotional wreck; there would be plenty of time to break down later. She leaned forward and eased her head down beside Ed's, breathing in his scent and letting it soothe the heartache and anger and sadness and rage inside of her. After talking to Roy, her first instinct had been to go over to Hohenheim's new place and beat him within an inch of his sorry life with anything she could get her hands on and, truthfully, she hadn't yet ruled that out completely. She felt sick to her stomach when she thought about the anguish Ed must have gone through at the hands of his father's depraved sense of morals; sicker still- as well as guilty- when she realized that she may not have ever even known about any of it if not for Roy.

She needed a plan, something guaranteed to make Hohenheim go away for good. But she had to be smart about it; the last thing she wanted was to land herself in jail… no matter how satisfying the idea of bashing in his face seemed.

With a silent yawn, Trisha closed her eyes, racking her tired mind for a solution…

~x~x~x~

"… Mom?"

Ed stared at the top of his mother's sleeping head with a soft smile. It had been a long time since she had last done this, at least to his waking knowledge. With a sharp gasp, he immediately realized that Roy must have told her everything that happened earlier that night. He quickly pulled his blanket over his face and squeezed his eyes shut, blushing profusely and cringing inwardly at the idea of her knowing those things about him. Not that he thought she would disapprove; he believed Roy was right about Trisha's infinite acceptance. Still, this was his mother. It was just embarrassing!

But… it was kind of nice, too. Comforting, even. The dread that he had felt, which had already dissipated somewhat with Roy's soothing words, was now completely gone. His dad was an idiot, plain and simple; one who deserved a good, swift kick in a variety of sensitive areas. It definitely gave him something to look forward to the next time he saw him.

He tucked the blanket under his chin and scooted closer to her, taking great care not to jostle her awake. A wave of love washed over him as he gazed at her, one that made him want to cry for reasons he was too young to fully grasp. She was just so… perfect. And sweet. And pretty. She was easily the best mom on the planet, hands down. Ed knew that he and Al were lucky; a lot of the kids he knew didn't have mothers nearly as wonderful as theirs. Some of them had no moms at all, a thought he was not even remotely ready to consider. He was already well past the age of innocence when he had actually once believed his parents would live forever; one didn't go through the constant barrage of pain brought on by having to live with the pitfalls of automail withoutknowing about the harsh reality of life and death, after all. But to think about life without her was something he just couldn't bring himself to do.

Ed reached out with his left hand and gently curled a lock of her hair around his fingers, closing his eyes and letting it invoke a tranquility within him that little else ever could. He had no way of knowing that it had been that way since the start of his young life, the countless times he would clutch his mother's hair as an infant while he fell into a sound sleep, much like now. He was also unaware of the pleasure that such a simple little thing had always brought her over the years, prompting a radiant smile of joy at the touch of his tiny fingers as they twirled around her thick, brown hair.

… much like now.

~x~x~x~

Roy woke up to a very delicate situation.

A very hard delicate situation.

While it certainly wasn't unexpected for a normal sixteen-year-old, it was still a bit disconcerting… although he supposed it would have been far worse waking up to ruined sheets. He was actually a bit surprised that it wasn't a more common morning occurrence, considering the fact that he rarely indulged in that particular fancy anymore because… well, because… he didn't have the time. Yes, that was it. It most certainly had nothing to do with the memory of a certain not-too-long-ago evening between two friends on a shared bed, or the startlingly vivid imagery of that experience that came bolting to the surface of his mind whenever he thought about doing it.

Nope. Nothing at all.

He glanced at the clock and figured that he was in the clear since Maes was normally up and dressed by the time he rolled out of bed. And so he rolled out of bed, swearing under his breath as he stubbed his toe and banged his shin against the offensive dresser that got in the way of his groggy flailing. He stretched and yawned loudly, then glanced down at the annoying protrusion, willing it away lest he ended up peeing right in his face.

With a small shake of the head, Roy stumbled over to the bedroom door and opened it-

"Good morn- oh!"

~x~x~x~

Despite his reputation for being a whore, Maes really did try to be a gentleman.

Well, sometimes.

But what else was he supposed to do when confronted by Roy's morning wood except gawk?

"Stop staring at my fucking junk," the teen growled, turning to face wall.

"Kind of hard not to when you almost put my eye out with it," Maes quipped.

"Well what the hell are you doing lurking outside of my door?"

"I came to make sure you set your alarm since we weren't exactly coherent last night, were we?"

"…Oh."

The night before, after Roy's impromptu embrace, the two friends had spent the rest of the night talking, eating, and drinking in front of a roaring fire, one built to picture-perfection by Roy after Maes almost set himself ablaze while attempting to use Roy's glove. They had managed to polish off an entire bottle of Jack between the two of them before bumbling their respective way to their bedrooms and falling asleep with no real recollection of how they even got there, let alone undressed themselves.

Now that he was awake and sober enough to reflect on things, Maes decided that he wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation Roy was facing in dealing with those kids and their asshole dad. However, since Roy didn't seem willing to quit babysitting, all he could do was support his decision to continue doing so. But so help him if this Hohenheim character ever said or did anything to hurt him again…

"Well, I'm up now, so… thanks," Roy muttered, lurching down the hallway toward the bathroom.

"Welcome," Maes replied, staring at the teen's back. "Try not to piss in your face."

Roy responded with a middle finger before shutting himself in the bathroom. Maes smiled thoughtfully at the gesture and headed back into the kitchen, wondering for the hundredth time just how in the hell he was going to make it through the day when all he could think about was fucking his best friend.

Something had to give. And soon.

~x~x~x~

Hohenheim had expected the impromptu caller to be his wife. He had no friends to speak of who would have even known his new whereabouts, let alone come to visit him. What he hadn't expected was the sudden fierce and stinging blow that lit up the left side of his face and sent his glasses hurdling onto the floor.

To be fair, though, he didn't think Trisha had expected it either.

He rubbed his cheek and stared calmly at her fiery eyes and flushed face and heaving chest. All disrespect aside- truly, the woman seemed to have lost all sense of how to be a wife- Hohenheim couldn't help but find her incredibly desirable at that moment, more so than he had in years. Or ever. Anger brought out a beauty in her, a life in her, that he had never suspected she could possess.

"I suppose you think I had that coming," he said, picking up his glasses and checking them for damages. "But as I said from the beginning, Trisha, if you would have just let me explain my absence properly-"

"Hohenheim, I don't give a fuck where you were." The anger on her face broke, replaced by one of unfathomable betrayal. Seething rage radiated from her body in waves.

"How could you do that to Edward?" she asked. "Do you have any idea how much you could have permanently scarred him with your bullshit?"

"I don't think there's any need to be so overdramatic about it... or vulgar," Hohenheim replied, sliding on his glasses. "He's a resilient young man," he added proudly, taking no shame in complimenting himself through his son.

"He's a scared little boy, you idiot. A scared little boy who probably…" she paused for a moment to think about her words. "… who probably has a lot of questions about his life right now. And the last thing he needs is for his own father to make him terrified of what he might be. I think he already gets that enough from everyone else; he shouldn't have to deal with it in his own home."

Hohenheim clenched his teeth and quickly glanced beyond Trisha to see if anyone was within eye- or earshot of them. He supposed it was futile to try and prevent the woman from making any more of a potential scene by coming inside of his new home and, quite frankly, he wasn't sure he even wanted her there given the wild and somewhat… dangerous… look in her eyes. It wasn't all that uncommon after all, emotionally charged wives snapping on their husbands over some perceived slight. And considering his own behavior over the years, he could fully admit that it was something of a miracle that he hadn't yet been maimed in some way... of course, he had no idea how close he had come to being just that.

Even so, they couldn't just stand there in full view of any potential passers-by. This was his wife. It was just embarrassing!

"Trisha," he said softly, as if employing the old Elric charm still had some measure of effectiveness. "Why don't we talk about this over the weekend?" he suggested.

"Do you honestly think I'm letting you near those children after what you did?"

Her response didn't surprise him at all; one some level, he supposed he had been anticipating it all along.

"... I don't think that's up to you," he pointed out.

"Oh, really?"

Hohenheim found himself taken aback by his wife's sudden smile. It wasn't warm. It wasn't lovely. It wasn't beautiful.

It was downright malicious.

And finally, for the first time since his unexpected and unwelcome return, Hohenheim fully realized the extent of the error in his assumptions about the nature of Trisha Elric, particularly when their children were involved.

Simply put: he'd made a big mistake.

"Then by all means," Trisha continued. "Let's bring in a judge so that you can explain exactly why you feel you're entitled to any parental visitation after purposely traumatizing your own son to the point where he couldn't sleep at night, not to mention abandoning your family for years on end- where you'll not only have to account for your whereabouts while you were gone… but also who you were with." She folded her arms and fixed him with a glare full of frightening promise. "If that's what you want, then that's fine with me."

That was the last thing he wanted. And she damn well knew it.

"Trisha, look," he started, taking a subtle step back. "All I mean to say is that they're my children too."

"I know," she agreed, although the mild disgust on her face exhibited a wish for the otherwise. "That's why, if the day ever comes when they want to see you, I won't try to stop them. But for now, the best thing- the smartest thing- for you to do is leave us alone. Go back to… wherever you were, and just leave us alone. Because if you try to back me into a corner on this, Hohenheim, I swear..." Her voice trailed away, leaving him to imagine the unpleasant possibilities of her unspoken promise.

She sighed deeply, tiredly, and pressed a hand to her temple, trying to rub away the ache behind it. Hohenheim wisely held his tongue and waited, but in the end, she had nothing more to say. Neither did he. Nothing that would have changed the woman's mind, at any rate.

They looked at each other across the short space between them, each of them trying to fathom the person that the other had become and looking for some small shred, the faintest hint of the one that they had loved so dearly.

But they found nothing.

Nothing at all.

~x~x~x~

Trisha shook her head slowly and righted her purse on her shoulder. She took one last look into the warm, yet cold eyes of her husband before walking away. She could feel his stare boring into her until she rounded the corner, out of his line of sight.

Things had gone smoothly, much more smoothly than she had expected… at least, they had after her initial outburst. Whether or not the man actually adhered to her demand remained to be seen. The odds were in her favor because Hohenheim was a man driven by appearances. Why else would he insist on having a subservient wife and obedient, heterosexual children? He had been secretive enough about his absence for Trisha to deduce that it was an… affair… over which he preferred to remain mum; it would be foolish of him to push her if he really didn't care to divulge such things.

She slunk down into the seat of her car and closed her eyes with a frown. She had a bastard of a headache, no doubt compounded by what had just taken place. It was little wonder, with her mind and heart having run the gamut of crippling emotions over the course of the past few hours- from sadness to fear to rage and everything in between. Now, all she wanted was to go home and enjoy the peace and quiet and solitude of the empty house until the boys arrived home that afternoon.

But first, she really, really needed a cigarette.

~x~x~x~

"What's up, Slut?"

Maes smiled and looked up from his locker to greet Riza. "I don't know, Whore. You tell me."

Riza grinned and leaned against the wall of lockers beside him while he plundered for his calculus book. "So where's your life partner?"

"Fuck if I know. We're not joined at the hip."

"Not that you don't want to be," she pointed out.

"Maybe," he said, tucking the book under his arm and slamming his locker shut. "Why? Jealous?"

"Jealous of what?"

Maes adjusted his glasses and smirked. "The fact that I'm the best lay you ever had and you still want me."

Riza's laughter rang down the hallway. "God, you are such an arrogant fuck," she said.

"But am I wrong?"

Riza rolled her eyes and started walking down the hallway. Knowing that he had won, Maes caught up with her and together they weaved through the bustling crowd of students as they made their way to their next respective classes.

"Have you told him?" Riza asked.

"Told him what?"

"You know what. That you- hey watch it, asshole!" she snapped at a boy who made the unfortunate mistake of bumping into her. "That you like him," she finished, keeping her voice low.

"Mmmmmnope."

His honesty was rewarded with a sharp punch in the arm. "Why not?"

"Because it would just make everything weird."

Riza stopped walking and gaped at him. "But he knows you want … that. How would knowing you actually like him make things any weirder than that?"

Maes tried to come up with a reasonable explanation and could only scrunch his face in frustration. "I don't know- it just would. Sex is one thing. This is… it's just different. Now come on; we're gonna be late."

He grabbed Riza by the arm and pulled her along, much to the amused interest of those around them who could never get enough of their hallway antics. Because he was so intent on getting to class, he didn't see the steel-eyed look of calculated consideration on her face as she pondered his dilemma, devising a plan that would- starting that night- set in motion a chain of events that would change his relationship with Roy for the rest of their lives…

~x~x~x~

Roy watched the two of them as they ambled along, barely aware of the slow frown that surfaced on his face at the sight of them, looking so disgustingly... perfect together. Everyone at school knew about what had happened between Maes and Riza; it only made sense, he assumed, for people to think that they were, in some way, shape, or form, a couple. Even if only in the carnal sense of the word. The revelation filled him with...

What exactly was it- this feeling that rose in his chest, burning through him like wildfire? Making him worry, making him-

Angry?

Well, no… he knew what it was. Even if he didn't care to admit it.

But what did it mean?

His frown deepened. Considerably.

It seemed he already had a good idea about the answer to that question, too. And he didn't like it.

He didn't like it at all.

TBC

AN: Couple of things- I'd initially planned a very intricate backstory to explain Hoho's disappearance, something that would have introduced a brand new arc to this story. I eventually decided against it because I already felt I was straying too far from the story's intended course, though not in a bad way; I'm very happy with the present storylines. Anyway, I just wanted to mention it now since I never did offer an explanation for his absensce and forgot to mention why. Gomen.

Now for reason #2: I never meant for this story to be "smutty" in any way. And I respect the fact that there may be some people who read this with no desire to read anything above a PG13 rating. That being said, the next chapter of this story will not be rated PG13. In this way, I am able to give people the choice to skip past certain parts that they may not wish to read. I leave you to draw your own conclusions for the next chapter which is, in all honesty, my own personal favorite. (ETA: up to this point)

Until then,

xoxo