Happy Royai Day, everyone!

Inspired by Hachiko-Tan's "4 ans, encore" where it's the opposite way around. I was so enchanted by the story that I just had to write something of my own. Hope you enjoy!

Where 'Nanny' Acquires A New Meaning

Riza sighed as she sank into the cushions of her sofa. Glad about owning two pillows, she pushed one hand beneath it, the other hand in front of her face. Sleeping on the couch always bore the risk of getting licked by a certain dog, currently curled up on the floor. Right in front of the sofa despite having his own bed – no, he needed to make use of the situation and place himself where he was guaranteed to notice when she got up. Being stepped on was worth the risk.

Closing her eyes, Riza tried to ignore the uncomfortable extremes of her sofa: too baggy where she always sat – and where she knew Hayate hopped onto once she was at work – and too stiff in the back. Of course, like any old second-hand couch, it squeaked a lot, and depending on where she laid, she could feel the springs bore into her side.

At least it got her mind off the most recent events at work. Events so bizarre and confusing, she did not know what to think of them. Worst of all, they did not end with work, and she was naturally the one of the team to be tasked with the aftermath of an alchemic experiment gone horribly wrong. One they all prayed would be reversible or lose its effect over time.

She frowned when hearing the creak of the bedroom door. As a child, Riza had seldom sought comfort at night in her parents' arms. Her mother had died early, but even before that, when having been plagued by nightmares, she had found herself locked out of her parents' bedroom after one too many disturbances. Curled up in front of the closed door, she had cried quietly, on occasion even found sleep on the cold floor.

It was because she had never had the luxury, and therefore from then on suppressed the urge to ask for help, that she stared on with surprise when a small hand landed on her wrist. Dark eyes greeted her, gaze as curious as it was mysterious, impossible to read with the countless emotions playing across his features. Uncertainty merely one of them.

With a pressed breath, Riza forced herself to wake up properly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern ringing in her voice. His hand travelled from her wrist to her hand, and she understood, opening her palm to enclose his tiny one. That, too, was something she had never been granted; never demanded, leaving her at a loss right now – what did one do with a five-year-old who could not sleep?

And no, the boy was not her son. He was her superior.

Or had been, though the details of what his accidental transformation meant for their work and working relation remained unsolved. The team had immediately made use of the way he had clung to her, obviously a mama's-boy, any and all mistrust towards a complete stranger as if erased after he had hidden beneath her waist cape, then more or less been offered a hand to hold. (More opportunistically grabbed, less offered, that was.)

He did not seem to have any recollection of her or anything beyond his childhood up to around five years, therefore unable to tell her of his adoptive mother he had not yet met. Whom she had not yet met either. Hence, caring for the child had been assigned to her after mutual agreement of the Mustang Unit.

"I can't sleep," he stated the obvious. She frowned, not knowing what to do while at the same time taking pity. Suddenly robbed of his environment, the knowledge of his parents' death still fresh, and now inside the stuffy flat of a strange woman – it must have been frightening. At least he was used to the noise of a city, she thought to herself.

Giving a helpless sigh, Riza ran her thumb up and down his dorsum.

"Can't you sleep with me?" he asked, unaware that if he would have said those exact words only yesterday; only that very morning, she would have reddened up until her ears (and clandestinely contemplated the offer). But his current voice was adorably pouty, cute in general, and the shoved-out lower lip softened her effectively. He must have learned early how to handle a lady, even if in another way than Adult Roy would.

"I don't think either of us will sleep much that way," she declined as she had when having tugged him into bed. Tugging her baby commanding officer into bed – their relationship knew no boundaries of weirdness, she had to admit.

His other hand joined when enjoying the mellow caresses, snaking its way into her palm. She brought out the one from beneath her pillow, reassuringly wrapping both hands around his.

"What did your Mama do when you couldn't sleep?" she asked. Hoping she would not be asked back. Hoping she had not just triggered any painful memories. He did not look as if he had had a nightmare, and they had already learned how picky he was during lunch, perhaps being the true reason behind his incapability of falling asleep as any young child should have.

The team's behaviour at the office had been hopelessly awkward. Bathing him had been… an experience. Their conversation over dinner might have still counted as interesting. Both were rather lost, and she had wished for him to at least sleep soundly after not having given her a break the entire day.

"She would…" he mused, "bake me a chocolate cake," he beamed at her. Riza gave him a look.

"You have five seconds to tell me the truth," she countered, unimpressed. He winced. Caught red-handed. She might not have been the most pampered child when it came to affection, but even she knew how implausible that was.

Glancing at his feet, he then took a deep breath.

"My mama tugged me into bed and read me a story and combed my hair and sang me a song and hugged me real tight and stayed until I fell asleep!" he inhaled to regain his breath. Wide-eyed, she blinked at him. He panted, his eyes piercing her expectantly.

"Very well," Riza let go of his hands, getting up. Hayate stood the second she did, on their heels as Riza accompanied Roy back to her bedroom. He insisted on holding her hand for those few metres. He really was a sweet child, if a demanding one. He liked 'pretty ladies' as he had proudly announced, having ranked Riza just below his mother and left the team in stitches.

"I also have to go," he said once they had arrived. Supressing the next sigh, Riza let go of his hand. She was exhausted, not to mention overchallenged with the entire situation. He had no idea who he was meant to be – at least what age – and that problem bugged her relentlessly.

"Go on then."

"You're not coming?" he looked up at her as if she had just abandoned him in the gutter. During heavy rain. Yes, his quivering lip could create such specific mental images.

"I'll wait right here," she soothed. He hesitated for another moment, most likely contemplating whether to haul out the big guns and start crying like he had over having to eat his vegetables. When she sat down on the bed however, folding back the blanket to create a most inviting scene for him to return to, he reconsidered. "Colo- Roy," Riza chided gently.

"Story," he asked, having climbed up into bed again. She intensified her berating glance from before.

"Didn't you have to go to the bathroom?"

"Not anymore," he lied. Grinning up at her was the last straw, so she nudged him to get up. He clung to her shirt instead. Another thing that would have tinted her cheeks crimson had he been his usual age.

"Roy," she growled. He folded his lips inwards, avoiding her strict glare. So she resorted to drastic measures – and most counterproductive ones, as she would come to know.

Poking a finger into his side, she earned a yelping laugh. Hayate got up from his basket, soon barking along to the laughter that rippled from the young boy's chest where he was attacked by tickles until having to flee the bed.

"Hush!" Riza reached out to Hayate, calming him with a pet to his head. It was a miracle the neighbours had not complained to her earlier on when Roy had wailed upon having stubbed his toes. Being this noisy at night was not doing her any favours.

"I'm going, I'm going," Roy still wheezed, a bright smile plastered across his face. Properly awake now, much to her dismay, he skipped away towards the bathroom. She wondered for the first time whether he would have been the one to take her in should their roles have been reversed.

It was not his fault that any of this had happened. He had not been the idiot Alchemist to have tried his hand at transmuting living people, sucking out their lives to transfer to others – namely himself. The Colonel had merely been one of the first soldiers to arrive at the scene, and the sole one surviving the suddenly activating transmutation circle. The culprit himself had not gained any year, so it seemed, though he was alive as well, currently forced to find a way of turning the Flame Alchemist back to normal.

And thank the heavens he was a State Alchemist, or the Military might not have bothered.

Riza would have given her own life if only it would have helped her poor Colonel, but she knew that even if it worked, he would not be content with her decision. That, and she had a job to do.

Just then, her little protégé entered the room. She was still his bodyguard, she told herself, not wanting to believe reality yet, and not wanting to accept that she was now quite literally babysitting her superior.

"Did you wash your hands?" she raised a brow, blocking off his path where he eagerly stood in front of the bed. Picky, yes, but at the same time easy to delight with enough attention.

His face fell, but when she did not budge, he hustled back into the bathroom.

"With soap," she added when hearing his barefooted pitter-patter return all too quickly. The water turned back on, and she could not help a triumphant smirk. "And turn off the lights," she called, hearing the faint click of the switch a moment later.

Finally allowed back onto the bed, Roy crawled beneath the sheets, a broad smile shining up at her. He really was cute, she could not help but admit, secretly glad not to be missing out on this. He cuddled his side against hers, grasping her hand that he clumsily lifted above his head and secured it on his opposite shoulder. Her raised brow never descended, by now amused rather than reprimanding.

"Story?" he repeated, this time more politely and as an actual question. Riza pursed her lips as she pondered.

"I'm afraid I don't have any books for children," she lamented. He groped her shirt again with one hand, the other making sure her hand stayed where it was. He did not want her to leave, she realised, coming to the conclusion that even if she did have any books to read him, he would not let her get up anymore.

"Story…" Roy repeated quietly, almost pityingly. It was hard to tell whether he was genuinely sad or playing one of his tricks. The last thing she needed was him crying again, while at the same time the last thing she wanted was to tell him something upsetting. Childhood stories were out, anything involving parents was out, stories about herself – naturally involving the military or the war – were out… She might have been at the top of her team when it came to writing reports, but making up a story herself was not one of her strong points.

"Alright, let me think," she lowered her voice in an attempt to get him to become sleepy again. "There once was," she let her eyes wander around the dark room, finding Hayate back in his bed, "a dog," she started. How did one continue from there on? She knew the cliché opening, and if she raked her brains she would remember the typical ending, but the rest…?

"Can you comb my hair?" Roy piped up. Not being released despite the request, Riza wordlessly complied, stroking over his head with her free hand. Content with that, he snuggled up closer to her, and she sunk down a little against the headboard to hold him tighter. She had to smile when feeling him do the same into her flank.

"The dog-"

"Can you start over?" he asked, readjusting slightly for maximum comfort. In other words, nestling his cheek against her chest. How did one spoil a child to this extent, she asked herself, resigning nonetheless.

"There once was a dog with black fur and a white belly."

"Is it Hayate?"

"Quiet," she squeezed him once and he clamped his lips shut. No more tickling, she had to remind herself. Perhaps it was not all that bad that she was terrible at telling stories – he might just fall asleep out of boredom.

Hayate's ears had perked at the sound of his name.

"That dog," she frowned to herself. It might have been a better idea to read him something from her book, even if he would not have understood. "He was… he went on an adventure.

"He was searching for… a mysterious stone," she could feel Roy inhale for the next degrading question, but an especially tender caress to his hair shut him up. "The stone had myths and legends talked about itself, but it had never been discovered to actually exist. It was said that it could bring- make people perform magic," she corrected.

He did not know the Elrics anymore (or yet), so there was no harm in stealing their tale whilst making the gruesome parts more harmless.

"He searched high and low, until he came across a dense forest. A deep voice appeared out of nowhere, denying him entrance lest he- unless he could solve the guardian's riddle," good job, Riza, she thought to herself. Coming up with a riddle was even worse than constructing a story. Perhaps he was tired enough not to notice – she certainly was. "It took the dog three days and three nights, but at last, he solved the riddle and entered the forest," she cheaply overplayed.

"What was the riddle?" Roy asked. She wanted to groan.

"It's ancient and secret, so I can't tell you," she invented. He pouted, not believing the excuse. "If I told you, you would never be let into the legendary forest because you already knew."

"But you made it up," he argued. Riza stared at the wall for a minute. Just what was it that pleased this child? One moment he was happy to cuddle, the next he criticised her admittedly poor storytelling skills. What she would have given to endure one of his embarrassing flirts right now.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" she deadpanned, and he immediately made himself very small against her side. Exhaling sharply, Riza tried hard to come up with a plot he would at least not question all the time. So much for boring him into sleep – he was a proper judge. "When the dog went into the forest, he was terribly scared. The wind howled from all sides, the shadows moved scarily, and… he was all alone.

"A rustling scared him," enough of the word 'scared' already, she rolled her eyes to herself, "and when he turned around, there were glowing red eyes in the bushes. The boy ran-"

"The dog."

"The dog," she growled, "ran for his life, and escaped the creepy forest. When he turned around, everything was gone – I mean the forest, the forest was gone," she lifted her hand off his head to rub her temple. She did not dare throw a glance at the clock. She prayed Roy would at least be tired during workhours. She was neither ready to babysit him at the office, nor did she under any circumstances fancy the team around while she had to entertain their superior with horribly uncreative stories.

Roy fumbled through the dark, seizing her hand and plopping it right back atop his head. She had to smile at that. No matter how annoying, he was still a sweet boy.

"So the dog decided to return home, travelling across fields and climbing mountains to return to his-" don't say family! "friends," she stuttered. Then panicked mildly. Did Roy have any friends as a child? Was she going to make him cry no matter what she did? "And they lived happily ever after," she recalled that last line, though by far too soon.

The damage was done, she thought to herself, grimacing at how silent he had fallen. No shaking from sobs, though, she noted with relief. Perhaps he was asleep? Finally asleep? Was she free of cringing at herself?

"You're really bad at telling stories," Roy spoke up. Riza deflated with a sigh.

"Maybe I really should have baked a cake instead," she mumbled to herself. Big eyes sparkled up at her. "No," she rejected, and he unpacked his infamous pout once more. "How about we just sleep?" she proposed, a yawn following as if on cue. Luckily, she had infected him.

In- and exhaling deeply, he announced his defeat. As if with a mind of their own, her lips came to plant a soft kiss on the crown of his head. She blushed lightly, trying to deny the fuzzily warm motherly feelings she was definitely not supposed to develop for her commanding officer. She harboured other, by far more prohibited feelings towards her Colonel, but the knowledge that he was, in fact, this child, made her feel odd.

It was unfair, really. She loved the man, and she loved the boy, too, if in a different way. For him, it was even worse. He had no idea about his later identity and role in her life whatsoever, yet she treated him with caution and restraint owed to her own confusion.

Maybe it was because of the pity she felt for those reasons that she let him hold on to her. Maybe it was because, after all, she loved him in more ways than just romantically that she let him hug her as best as he could, her own arms winding around him tightly as she sank down one final time that night, allowing herself to close her eyes and drift off into much-needed slumber, stroking his hair until then.

When Riza awoke the following morning, his face was still nestled closely into her chest. With his arms all the way around her, and his best piece pressed against her thigh, he must have had the most pleasant dreams judging from his expression – not to mention the drool seeping into her shirt. She could not decide whether to feel relieved upon his return to his actual age or abashed.

Choosing the former, she closed her eyes again. She would grant them both another hour of sleep. When running a hand through his hair, she triggered a mumble, then a rub to her chest. He fisted the fabric in her back, whispering her first name dreamily. Blushing a lovely shade of scarlet, Riza held still while he inhaled her scent and champed with content.

Yes, she loved this man.