AN: Hope you enjoy!

Stick to One's Guns

Alphonse Elric, for the first nine years of his life, only knew one name to call whenever anything happened: mom. Their father was never there and they only called for granny Pinako whenever they were over at Winry's house. After she disappeared from their lives, he thought his days of saying that name were over until the Mustangs adopted them.

Now at 16, he'd like to think he was grown up now. He refused to scream or cry for 'mom' no matter how difficult things got. He belatedly realized, however, that this refusal to acknowledge his dependence on the woman who helped raise him manifested in another way.

"Hey, pop. Where's mom?" Al walked into the living room.

Roy looked up from reading the paper in his hands. "Kitchen."

He nodded as thanks and made a beeline straight for the kitchen. "Mom, I need salt."

Riza, focused on the stove in front of her, used the ladle in her hand to point at the intended shelf and didn't bother to look at him. "Mm. Get the one with the brown lid."

"Thank you!" He grabbed the container and moved to go back to his room.

"Tell me if you run out," she said in a louder voice so that it carried through the hallways despite her being rooted in her spot.

Around an hour later, he returned to the kitchen to return the salt container and found his pop by the sink. "Where's mom?" he asked, sliding the container onto the shelf he took it from earlier.

"She said she'll change clothes."

"Okay," he walked out of the kitchen and headed for the master bedroom. He knocked on the door and waited for Riza to say it's okay to come in. When she did, he opened the door enough to peak inside. "Mom, can I borrow some oil? Do you need it?"

"What are you doing?" she paused, then followed up with, "For cooking? Or…"

"Cooking," he chuckled, "A little experiment."

"Sure, do you know where it is - on the leftmost shelf?"

"Yup, thanks." He shut the door, returned to the kitchen to get what he needed and smiled at Roy on his way out. He crossed paths with Ed on the way to his room. "Where's mom?" his brother asked him.

"Changing clothes." He went back into his room.

Ed walked into the kitchen and spotted Roy. "Where's mom?" he repeated.

Roy opened his mouth to answer but was cut off when Riza said, "What?" coming from behind the teen.

"Can I have an egg?"

"Are you doing your experiment with Al?" She approached their refrigerator and took hold of an egg. "Do you need it raw? Or-"

"Yep, thank you." He got the egg in her hands and left. He skidded to a halt on the way and backtracked his steps. "Yes, yes, I'm with Al," he said as an answer to her other question before bounding back to the direction of their rooms.

Roy stared at the kitchen threshold with his lips parted and his brows furrowed.

"I suppose it's a bad time to call for them to eat." His wife closed the refrigerator door and turned off the stove. "How about you? Hungry?" When he didn't answer her, she followed up with, "Roy?"

"Uh, hmm. Uhh. Yeah."

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It was one of those things that dawned on Al only after a really, really long time. He and Ed didn't give much thought into it, but their dependence on Riza Mustang was deeply embedded into their core by the time they were in their late teens.

"Hey, pop."

"Welcome home."

"Where's mom?"

Roy looked up at the sound of greetings, and the expected question that came with them, and saw Ed and Al on the front yard looking like they were taking a break from sparring. "She'll be out with Aunt Becca tonight. Take out sound good?" He lifted his hand to show them plastic bags with their favorite restaurant's name printed on it.

It only took the two teens to glance at each other before running back into the house to shower and change.

Roy locked his car and followed them into the house with a sigh. At least they greeted me first before asking where Riza is.

He placed the bags on the kitchen counter which also served as their dining table most days, and took out the containers to spread them out. At first he thought the cursed question - Where's mom? - they kept asking that one summer was a temporary arrangement… until now, months later and summer nowhere in sight, and it has become a habit for the two blonds.

"Thanks." Al entered the kitchen and helped himself to one of the take-out containers.

"What time will mom be home?" Ed slid into the seat beside Al's.

"I don't know."

"Where's mom again?" piped in Al.

Roy bit on his fork. "With your Aunt Becca."

Dinner pushed forward without further conversation. Al kept his head down, unsure of what kind of talk to initiate with the dark-haired man.

"How's school?" ventured Roy, halfway through his takeout platter.

"Fine," answered Ed.

Al wasn't sure if he imagined it, but it looked like his brother was speeding up in finishing his meal, so he did the same.

"You don't need any help, or…" Roy trailed off, dark eyes following Ed's form when the latter stood and threw his empty food container and plastic utensils.

"No. Though next month, Al and I were planning a trip with Mrs. Curtis, we thought we'd ask permission?" Ed reached over and took Al's now-empty container and threw it in the trash also, clearly ready to leave the kitchen at a moment's notice.

"I heard Riza say something about… a camping trip?"

He nodded.

"Alright, yeah, sure." His wife wouldn't have mentioned it if she didn't want the boys to go.

"Thanks, pop!" Al rose from his chair and he and Ed bound for their rooms.

He stared at the empty space, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Were dinners always that fast?

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It only finally hit Al about his and his brother's odd habit when, finally, their adoptive mother pointed it out and shattered his blissful ignorance and counterfeit independence.

The younger Elric walked into the living room and spotted Roy. "Where's -"

"Here."

He felt a hand slide on his shoulder from behind. He stiffened, turning to face Riza. "How'd you know?"

"I'm your mother." She smiled. "Though you should drop the habit in time for your camping trip with Mrs. Curtis."

"What habit?"

She blinked at him. "What do you need?" she sidetracked.

"A raincoat," he answered, but gave her a look which meant he didn't appreciate her not answering his question.

She headed to her shared bedroom with Roy without another word, knowing Al will trail behind. She went to their closet and took out two wrapped raincoats. "Give the other one to Ed, please."

"What habit, mom?" He folded the items over his arms.

She crossed her arms in front of her, assessing him before answering the question. "Where's mom," she said, echoing the oft-uttered question, her gaze meeting his.

He felt heat creep up his cheeks and ears. "Is it that bad?"

"No," she eased a smile and sat down on the edge of their bed, patting the space beside her. "Roy might be feeling a bit left out, though."

He took a seat as directed.

"And you know Mrs. Curtis will pick up on it."

"Brother might not like being teased about it." He hummed. "What about pop?"

"Ah, minor grumbling…" she clicked her tongue, "he said you never seem to need him these days except to look for me."

"Oh, uh. Are we being bad to pop?"

"I'm not sure. To be fair to him, I don't think either of you have held a lengthy conversation with him recently," she paused, thinking about their common denominator, "To be fair to you two, you don't really like discussing alchemy at home. At least not when you talk to me."

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well…" Try as he might, he was unable to deny it. In his defense, both he and Ed had the habit of looking for her while attempting to show an air of independence toward Roy. He wasn't alone in this.

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Sometime during the boys' camping trip with their teacher, Roy had an epiphany of sorts come from Havoc, of all people.

It was a typical workday, with endless piles of paper floating in and out of their desks.

"Hawkeye," he grumbled, signing his name on the last sheet of his current work pile.

The blonde dutifully stood, taking the accomplished reports and forms in her arms and replacing it with another stack atop his desk. "This revised manual for State Alchemists needs to be proofread and commented on by the end of the day."

He groaned. The original manual was over 600 pages and it looked like this revised version had more.

"I already marked the pages that might need your attention."

He blinked down at the fresh stack, and true to her word, the side had little tabs on them. "Mm." He flipped to the first page.

When he arrived at the first tab pointing to a misspelling error to the manual, he encircled the misspelled word and scribbled on the side of the page. "Hawkeye."

"She's out, Chief," said Havoc, sliding some papers off his desk into an awaiting envelope. "Submitting your morning outgoing. What'cha need?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Thanks."

Half an hour ticked by and Roy reached a quarter of the draft manual, sighing at the amount of pages and tabs still left for him to go through. "Hawkeye," he called again.

Havoc raised his head from his work and approached his commanding officer's desk. "Not yet back, Chief." He extended his arm, thinking Roy had a new document to be submitted elsewhere.

"Right…" He rubbed his weary eyes. "Ah. No. There's nothing."

The blond withdrew his hand. "It's almost lunch time. Maybe she got held back at Admin again, you know how messy they are."

He waved his hand at his men, all filing out of the office for lunch while his adjutant had yet to return.

Roy was nowhere near halfway through when lunch time was over and the men returned, talking amongst themselves.

"I was right, Hawkeye's been held back by the filing clerk."

"Again?"

"Useless bunch they have there."

Havoc approached and dropped a cup of coffee and a sandwich on Roy's table. "She asked me to give you this."

He nodded his thanks and took a bite of the sandwich.

Time passed once more and after he had finished his meal and drink, he looked up at the clock to see it was already two in the afternoon with no end in sight for the manual he had to comment on. "Hawkeye."

"If you're looking for Hawkeye, Chief, told ya she's still down at Admin."

He opened his mouth to respond, but Havoc beat him to it.

"Stop looking for Hawkeye, Chief."

He stammered for a response.

Breda added his two cents, eyeing the unfinished work in Mustang's hands, "No need for Hawkeye, right? It's not like you have new finished paperwork."

"If it's coffee, sir, I can get it for you," offered Fuery.

"Nah." Havoc snickered. "It's like her name is a prayer or something."

"Hawkeye," nodded Breda, doing his best to imitate Roy's voice.

"Hawkeye," chimed in Havoc, nodding.

Fuery mumbled, "Hawkeye?"

Falman cleared his throat, trying as well, "Hawkeye."

Roy slumped in his seat and did his damndest not to call for Hawkeye the rest of the day even after she returned to the office with a fresh offering of paperwork.

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"Where's mom?" greeted Ed as soon as he and Al climbed at the back of Roy's car. After their camping trip with Mrs. Curtis, he thought Riza would be the one to pick them up.

"At home." He turned on the engine and started the trip back to their house.

Al nudged Ed with his elbow, the action not lost on Roy through the rearview mirror.

"Oh… Oh, yeah. How've you been, pop?" added Ed.

He chuckled by the driver's seat, taking pity on the older Elric for trying. "Good, good."

"We've been gone a week," piped in Al, "Did anything interesting happen?"

He flinched at the question, recalling the figurative ice-cold bucket of water being dumped over his head at work in relation to his issue with the boys always searching for Riza instead of him.

"Pop?"

"Not… Not much," he gulped, almost missing the intersection he had to turn right at to reach their street, remembering Havoc's teasing like it was a few seconds ago. "Stop looking for Hawkeye, Chief." By the skin of his teeth, he managed to park outside their house though it was off-center than usual.

The boys all but flew out of the car, regretting their attempt at a conversation with the man.

Roy sighed, turning the engine off. Now that Havoc disillusioned him, he realized he had no right to grumble at Riza about his feelings of being neglected by the boys.

He had an undeniably reliable wife and it was nothing to feel bad about, end of discussion.

AN: This was brought on by introspection after more than a year of quarantine plus our country's "lockdown" Seasons 2 to 2.5 haha. I realized my brothers and I have developed the habit of asking, "Where's mom?" as a greeting to our dad instead of "Good morning."

'Til next time!