Hey! I'm Nausika, welcome.

Love Royai, English isn't mother tongue, I make typos, yada yada, always appreciate reviews ;)

Hope you enjoy!

A Baby at the Office

It had all started with that stupid grin one fateful day. Not that Roy Mustang did not usually wear his stupidly smug grin, or that he did not have other expressions half the military – not to mention General Armstrong and one Edward Elric in particular – hated his guts for. And yes, Havoc had to admit that there were times when he himself had to struggle as not to roll his eyes when that trademark self-complacency came into place, but that day had not been one of them.

It had been hard to decipher – Havoc had come to read it as an odd mixture of giddiness, nervousness and blitheness. Like a child holding a frog for the first time, proud of the catch and not yet sure whether to be disgusted at the slick frog skin.

And so, like any supportive subordinate would – and definitely not out of nosiness – Havoc had asked.

"Well, if one plus one don't make two…" Roy had mumbled, perhaps to himself.

"What?" Fuery had frowned, Breda mirroring his puzzlement. Havoc had nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Oh! I know, I know this one!" he had all but yelled. As if it was merely a dodgy riddle.

With his men remaining clueless, the Brigadier General had continued, "When one and one make three," he had hinted.

"Don't tell them, let them guess!" Havoc had been prancing around by then, excitedly skipping from one desk to the next, three pairs of eyes following him. Just then, the door to the office had opened, Hawkeye entering with a stack of papers. They had soared to the ground when Havoc had nearly overthrown her with a hug, shortly lifting her off her feet, squeezing her stiff form to him when suddenly realising what he was doing. (No, not the hugging.)

"Oops, my bad," he had set her down, Fuery and Breda by now bewildered. "Sorry," he had patted her shoulder as if to smooth out a wrinkle of her uniform, "gotta be careful," he had pursed his lips, voice sounding as if talking to a puppy. A puppy, or…

Breda had gasped when it dawned on him. Fuery had frowned, then blushed profusely once the now First Lieutenant had whispered into his ear. Both had beamed at Riza, who in turn had glared down her superior.

"General," her voice had cut through the momentary silence like a knife.

"Congratulations!" Havoc had diverted the attention away from Roy, and when the other two had joined in, Hawkeye had actually blushed a soft tinge of pink. A clandestine smile had graced her lips, if merely for an instant before she had caught herself, clearing her throat to dismiss the topic from the office. With the collected documents in hand once more, she had made her way over to the Brigadier General's desk. The two had exchanged a few hushed words, somehow not seeming to be discussing work.

Only then had it hit him – they had been whispering like that for… weeks. At least. Havoc had pondered on that, coming to the conclusion that this must have always been the secret topic, starting to regret how he had not counted since when they had taken up the habit.

Havoc returned from the memory when huge eyes stared up at him. They were captivating, mystifyingly expectant and almost too enchanting to check whether anyone in the office had noticed his short nap. Unnecessary, he found, seeing as he was alone. Why was there no one there? Had he missed the instruction to watch the kid? If so, he dearly hoped nothing bad had happened – the tiniest of splinters in the boy's thumb could cost Havoc his head.

The door opened, and Havoc snapped into a straighter sitting position, bumping his hand hard on the desk where it had twitched into action for a salute. Once realising that it was only Fuery who entered, he deflated into his backrest again.

"D'awww, hello little Maes," Fuery immediately started doting. "Where are your parents?" he bent down with is hands on his knees.

As if that was the question one should be asking. Not something like 'What are you doing here?' or rather 'Why is there a baby sitting on the floor of the office?' – it wasn't as if the roughly six-months-old could speak yet. Or understand complex questions. A distinct (and overly ridiculous) 'mommy' might have at least been able to trigger some kind of sensible response.

But no, Fuery merely cooed with the baby who naturally started to reply in all kinds of variations of 'ha' and 'ba' and 'ma', voice shooting up to ranges not even the ancient creaking door managed. Or the dog – Maes Mustang's greatest role model.

That's right, folks, Maes Mustang. Who would have thought? (The existence, not the name; Truth knew half of headquarters to have expected the first name choice. It would have probably become Maes even for a girl, or so the jokes travelled Central.) But with Grumman as Fuhrer and Ishval on its rise after merely two years of tireless efforts – with veterans such as Roy, Riza and Alex Louis Armstrong leading the way – things had changed drastically.

Starting with elections – at least some mildly democratic form of having a vote that the commanding officer in charge could later heed or ignore – things were starting to look up. Most significantly for the small and stalwart Mustang Unit: the alteration of the Fraternization Laws.

Now alteration did not mean abolition. There were still regulations against affairs at the workspace, mostly to protect women (also something very un-Amestrian Grumman had made his popularity skyrocket with, at least amongst the female half of the country). There was, however, a new paragraph – along with dozens of subclauses – that allowed liaisons between co-workers, as well as superiors and subordinates. One had to be serious about it, aka marriage, and one had to take separate tests and answer questions about the own and the partner's motives, as well as personality, interests, values and so on. Each party took a test on both their own as well as the partner's behalf – without being able to consult the other, of course – and once done, the results would be checked. If more than 45 % were correct (they were open questions after all), the couple would legally be allowed to marry.

Roy and Riza had unsurprisingly not been the only ones to enter the hours of interrogation – and right after the announcement, while others had taken their time to prepare – but come out as the sole couple to have aced the entirety of the tests with a 100 % score. Each. The examiners had been stunned into stupor.

Not that the team had expected any less.

The fact that Grumman was the maternal grandfather of Riza had only been found out after the completion of the test – and might not ever have been revealed had he not openly swooned about the soon-to-be arrival of his great-grandchild (at least so he had desired rather empathetically). The entire revelation had been a shock to her, even more than to Roy. The latter had not hesitated to confront the Fuhrer about the topic, playing his cards just right to get that ostentatious villa he had bought his wife for their wedding guarded by a special elite force.

Another thing Roy had not waited a heartbeat longer than necessary to do was propose. Everyone knew it to have been overdue, but still, no one had not expected him to not only pop the question during the announcement of the altered frat laws, but he had baffled them all by whipping out a ring in the same motion. People gossiped he had played an influential part of getting the regulations changed, but the team knew better.

He was a lunatic, and he just happened to carry the ring he must have had since god knew when around with him that day. Heck, he may have decided to just screw the laws and ask despite them, when suddenly they had been loosened. Dead lucky.

Riza had taken the whole fuss with her usual stoic enduring. And she had continued with that demeanour throughout the first two thirds of the unplanned pregnancy. Roy had desperately wanted a child, and while she had been against it right up until the sixth month of carrying said child, her protests had died down with the first kick. The team knew – they had been there.

Of course, Riza Hawkeye would work no less than until practically almost going into labour.

Though guilt must have still oftentimes been present within the newly minted parents, they had gradually adapted to the situation like they did with everything. Through each other.

Riza had been restless, concerned and on occasion anxious about protecting Roy, abandoning her duty and bringing someone into the world whom she did not under any circumstances wanted to have her – the Hawk's Eye of the Ishval Rebellion – as a mother. Towards the final months – and Roy had to order her to stay at home and relax – she had begun to settle. She had developed an unconquerable serenity that was not just a façade, but a genuine motherly instinct of solving whatever problems they faced with grace and composure.

If they had not secretly called her the mother of the Mustang Unit – Roy included – she now truly was. None of the grown men had been safe of her motherly care, and none of them complained.

And while that was all well and good, the question remained: where the hell were they?

Maes was by now slobbering on Fuery's hand, squishing the fingers each with a for a baby formidable strength. He was remarkably trusting, although there wasn't a person in Amestris that could get him to sleep when his mother wasn't around. Something that bugged Roy endlessly. But Maes would laugh and smile and burst the eardrums of the team with delight, screeching when Grumman doted over him, and squeal excitedly when big brother Hayate overtook babysitting.

Havoc sighed to himself. Remaining seated at his desk was the only option as not to get caught up in baby-duty, and he was too deprived of cigarettes to stand the high-pitched voice so close to his ear right now. Still, he could not help the feeling that he had been the chosen one to watch over the little drool-oozer, seeing as Fuery had only just come in and Breda was nowhere to be found. Sometimes, in a rare moment of honestly to himself, he wondered whether he would have been happier about the newest addition of the team – and least productive, even after Roy – if he had a baby himself. If he would have stood the hardships of forbidden love for several tormenting years if this was the prize for it.

If at least he had a fiancée of his own. (But with Fuery dating his girlfriend for a slightly longer time than Havoc and not yet proposing, it would seem rushed. Desperate somehow, not that it was untrue.)

Speaking of truth, Havoc had to admit that he glanced down at the baby more often than he would have liked. Because he did like tiny Roy, a lot even. He enjoyed the rare opportunities of Riza bringing her son to work, or the nights of dinner at the Mustang estate, always first in line to make the dumbest grimace or an absurd noise to entice one of those most adorably sputtering laughing fits.

Right then and there, in fact, he would have loved to be Fuery. Grossly sticky hand and all. Had it not been for the presence of the to Second Lieutenant promoted Fuery, Havoc would have sat down on the ground, perhaps even lied down on his front, and entertained Maes with all he had. There was also the matter of them being in the office that kept him – the chance of a superior entering just at the wrong moment was a lethal situation to his performance. The team knew they could never use the 'it was just so he wouldn't cry' excuse, each of them keen on the child not being banished from Headquarters. And he really did not cry all that often, the excuse sounding unfair.

He was such a ray of sunshine, he brightened any hour of overtime.

Currently, that sunshine was exploring the mysteries of Fuery's bag. It had a lanyard, attached by metal that clinked whenever Maes slapped it around. And boy, did he love doing that. Almost three whole minutes passed until he was starting to discover something other than just that sound and the feeling of leather beneath his soft, chubby fingers. Next up were the pens where they had been clipped to the outside pocket. Most curious, and so very chewable. His forehead frowned in fascination, an almost dirty laugh rippling through the office when Fuery surprised with uncapping a pen.

Havoc's clandestine smile grew broader and broader. Having propped his chin up on his fist, he pretended to be engrossed in his work, all the while he spied beneath his arm to catch glimpses of a madly giggling and clumsily clapping baby. No doubts about it, he adored that child.

The door opened, and where Havoc had expected salvation of the growing urge to flop down and repeatedly uncap pens like a madman, it was neither Roy nor Riza who entered.

"Ooh, if it isn't little Maes," Breda instantly raved as his peered past the stack of documents in his arms. He dropped them carelessly on the nearest desk, already on his knees next to Fuery. "And he's chewing a pen, how cute," his voice went haywire where not a cocktail in all of Amestris could have lured out such a slurring mess. Havoc asked himself then why he was the only one at least pretending not to be madly in love with those big, dark eyes.

He stopped feigning working to get up and close the door. The perfect opportunity not to sit back down at his desk again. Crossing his arms, he watched the scene unfold, casually leaning against the wall.

"And look-y here-y what I brought today – especially for you," Breda drawled. With an exclamation of triumph, he produced a plain metal carabiner from his pocket. It reminded Havoc of that spontaneous proposal and the ring Roy had practically materialised out of thin air. And who in their right mind carried around a lonely carabiner with no key on it whatsoever? Breda must have really waited for an opportunity to present it to Maes.

It had been worth it – Maes was enthralled. Click, Breda let the hook snap once. Handing it over – naturally accompanying the brief journey from his hand to the eagerly grabbing ones with overdone comments and blabbing – he gifted the baby his newest favourite toy. Havoc's lips tightened in anticipation, the corners of his mouth already twitching upwards.

Click, click, click, click, click, it went, Maes snapping the carabiner open and closed repeatedly, his eyes sparkling at what a major power he had over the small object. He laughed with naughty delight, something that made them all grin (and inevitably think of the child's father).

When the door opened for a third time, neither of them spared it more than a brief glance.

"I'm sorry you had to take over so suddenly," Hawkeye – looking exhausted – entered with several files under her arm. All three men waved it off, all three of them equally disappointed when Maes' attention shifted.

Squeaking so many 'ma's that he almost choked on them, he effectively kept his mother from any further progress than depositing the files on her husband's desk. His excited hiccups turned into the cutest set of happy giggles once she picked him up. Fuery pouted where he still sat next to Breda, all eyes longingly glued to the child.

Riza kissed the top of his head with a gentle hum, then easily propped her baby on her hip as she went back to the Brigadier General's desk. The latter – quite obviously jealous of his wife for the enthusiastic bruhaha his son released upon seeing her – grumbled to himself, entering with a sigh.

"I'm sure he's just hungry," Riza allayed, her gaze focused on the document she was fumbling for on his desk, yet reading him perfectly.

"He hasn't asked for it yet," Roy retorted, not wanting to believe her reasoning. Slightly more irritated than usual – the meeting apparently not having gone too smoothly – she did not try again to reassure him. Having found the document, she swiped it out to read.

"Well, if you'd come home instead of schmoozing diplomats…" she mumbled, though loud enough for them to hear. Fuery gulped.

"I was home at six yesterday."

"And the day before, we slept alone," Riza countered without batting an eye. She did not stop for a second to work, fanning out the forms she had brought alongside the one she had just found with her free hand. It made them all wonder – and stare shamelessly – how she managed to hold and even entertain her child with light rocking and patting to his leg at the same time.

Almost as if nothing had happened, both Roy and Riza went back to business. The second he caught sight of a particular document, their conversation switched seamlessly to work. Starting with prioritising the forms in question she had prepared, Roy slumped into his chair. A frown creased his forehead, fingers plucking at his lip in thought.

With the task taken from her, Riza had the time to notice what her son was chewing on for the first time.

"A carabiner?" she turned to the men, raising a single brow. "Why does it not surprise me that you never think of any harmless toys like plushies," she shook her head. She was not exasperated, they knew, hardly annoyed. She was tired. Overworked but never ready to admit to being overchallenged. It did not exist in her vocabulary.

Briskly, Breda rose to his feet. (Fuery did not follow, most likely still hoping to have the baby return and play.)

"It's safe, see," Breda went over to her. He had to take Maes' hand since the boy would not let go of his new treasure. It smacked when moved out of his mouth, saliva dripping from it. "I filed the sharp ends," Breda proudly demonstrated. Wow. He had actually done that in advance, further proving Havoc's theory that the item had the sole aim of becoming a gift to Maes.

Plopping it back into his mouth, Maes resumed suckling on it. Only this time, he did not seem as content as he had been before. Glancing up – half his hand plus carabiner reappearing from his mouth – he found his mother's eyes. She understood even before he unpacked the quivering chin. (Another thing reminding of his father.)

"Alright…" Riza hushed him gently. Roy got up as if automatically when she encircled the desk. Wordlessly, they changed places, his focus still on the documents he simply picked up to study. Sitting down in her husband's chair, Riza turned in order to have the broad backrest face the office. Fuery sighed, knowing that after Maes had been fed, there would be no playing for the following hours.

Havoc returned to his own desk alongside the others. Unable to concentrate on work just yet, he stole a glance to the side. Roy was leaning against the window, the document in his hand sinking when his eyes strayed. With a fond smile, he watched his wife and son. Pride and love shone in his gaze, an impregnable devotion directed at his family.

No one complained for even a second when Roy grabbed a different chair, meaning Riza had fallen asleep alongside her baby. And despite the unauthorised break of the napping Captain, they were still able to complete their work for the day. It was an exception after all – the moment their boots touched the first step to Headquarters, there were no terms of endearment, no inappropriate contact, nothing. Havoc guessed them to be getting their fair share of touching each other at home, commendably balanced professionals while in uniform.

Not to mention commendably devoted superiors, spouses, as well as parents.