Rating: T

Pairing: Royai/Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 2058

Title: Checkup

Description: Royai One Shot

(Modern AU) Roy and Riza take their son, Maes, to his one-year checkup.

A/N: I'm really excited to kick off Royai Week 2018 with this fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Riza

After I drop the updated paperwork with the receptionist, I turn around and walk back across the waiting room to where Roy is sitting impatiently. I glance up at my husband's worried face and let out a grateful sigh that Maes is asleep in the car seat in the chair next to him. I've barely sat down on the other side of it when Roy turns to me, whispering across the space.

"I don't like this," he murmurs in a low tone. "This place is full of germs and…weird smells."

"It's a pediatrician's office," I remind him calmly. "They're all like that."

"But what if Maes catches something? What if he's already caught something?"

"Roy–"

"We left him with Gracia for the afternoon the other day, and right after that Elicia came down with that stomach flu. He could be infected."

I look down at our peacefully sleeping son and start to reply when Roy continues.

"Seriously, Riza. What if something is wrong? His last few diapers had a weird consistency. What if he's sick?"

"He's fine. It's probably because I recently started giving him some of my food at mealtime."

"What?" He jerks his head back. "Should you be doing that? What if–"

"He's a year old now, Roy. It's perfectly acceptable for one-year-olds to start eating some table food."

"B-but what if he's allergic? What if he chokes?"

"I'm trained in first aid and CPR, remember?" I remind him softly, reaching down to adjust Maes' baby blanket. "I know what to do. And besides, I've only given him cooked carrots, green peas, and diced chicken so far anyway. I want to make sure this checkup goes okay before we introduce anything new."

"Right." He nods. "Okay."

"Everything will be fine, Roy."

"Of course." He nods. "Wait. What if he hasn't gained enough weight? What if he's failure to thrive?"

"You're kidding?" I frown at him. "Stand up right now and pick up this car seat and then try to tell me our kid is underweight."

"Well, the car seat weighs–"

"You said last night I needed to go shopping for new onesies because the ones he has will barely button."

"Right." He slowly nods, conceding my point.

"Roy, I love you, and I adore the way you love Maes, but you have got to calm down."

He opens his mouth to say something back when the door to the hall opens and a nurse in puppy-covered scrubs steps out holding a clipboard.

"Maes Mustang?"

"That's us," I say quietly, rising and hoisting the car seat off of the chair. "Let's get this done."

Roy falls in step beside me just as I reach the nurse, who greets us warmly and leads us down the hall to an exam room. We chat with her for a minute about his diet and his routine, and then she unbuckles him to take his measurements. As she's lifting him out of the car seat, Maes wakes up and starts crying.

"I got him." Roy takes him immediately and begins expertly soothing our son.

"He can be cranky when he wakes up," I murmur to the nurse. "Especially if we're not at home."

"Understandable," she tells me quietly. "Your husband is great with him, though."

"He is."

"I think we're set." Roy turns back to us, either not having heard us or doing an excellent job of pretending not to, and passes off a now docile baby to the nurse.

"Hi, Maes," she tells him cheerily. "I'm Nurse Emily, and I'm just going to take a few measurements, okay?"

I stand next to Roy as she chats to our son the entire time she takes his weight and height. When she's finished, she hands him back to me, and informs us the doctor will be in shortly before slipping out.

"He's doing great," I say with relief. As if on cue, he smiles up at me with a wide, somewhat toothless grin.

I was a little concerned he'd be inconsolable as he sometimes is in new places. I'm relieved he's not fussing at all.

"I hope the rest goes as well. And as fast," Roy answers, glancing at the door nervously.

"Sit down, you big baby." I roll my eyes at him. "If Maes isn't upset, you shouldn't be either."

"He's an infant," he mutters. "He doesn't know enough to be worried."

"Well, I do, and I'm not, so you shouldn't be either. The nurse just said he looked perfect."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Do you want something to be the matter with our son?"

"What? No! Why would you even suggest–"

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Mustang," the doctor comes in, interrupting Roy midsentence. "And, of course, today's most important guest, Maes. How are you all doing?"

"Very well. Thank you, Dr. West."

"Glad to hear it." He nods. "Well, let's get to business, shall we?"

He sits down at the computer and skims through the information Nurse Emily already put in before turning to us.

"So far everything looks good. Let me just look him over, and we'll get him his shots so you can be on your way."

I hear Roy let out a short sigh beside me, and I reach over and grab his hand in both of mine. He squeezes my fingers gently, and I feel him relax at my side. We wait quietly as Dr. West conducts his exam. Maes is happy and giggly for all of it, until it comes time for the shots.

"I'm going to ask one of you to stand with him while the nurse administers the vaccines," he turns to us.

"I'll do it," Roy says hoarsely, rising to his feet from his chair by the wall.

"He'll be getting three booster shots today, so his little thighs might be tender for the next day or so."

I feel my fist clench automatically. I hate the idea of my son being in pain. I know Roy feels the same way when his spine straightens.

"This is the not fun part of parenting," I murmur softly to him as he passes me.

"It's for his benefit," he agrees. "I just hate it."

I nod and watch as he goes to stand beside the exam table where Maes is wiggling around on his back. Nurse Emily comes in with the prepared injections and whispers quietly to the doctor before moving to stand next to my husband. I feel myself tense as Roy puts his large, scarred hand over Maes' chest, using his other to stroke his fuzzy head and distract him from the rubber glove touching his leg.

He doesn't cry after the first injection. Rather, he gets very still and looks up at Roy in confusion. However, after it happens again in his other thigh, his little face crumples up and he lets out a long wail. He's inhaling to cry longer when the last shot is administered. I feel my lip quivering as he wriggles and flails his little fists wildly.

As soon as the third band aid is on, Roy scoops him and up and holds him tight to his shoulder, pacing around the room bouncing and shushing him.

"Anna at the front desk will have your checkout papers," Dr. West tells me quietly as I watch my boys.

"Thank you."

He and Nurse Emily slip out of the room, and I walk over to the far corner where Roy is now patting Maes' diapered bottom as the loud crying begins to subside to whimpers.

"I'll take him," I murmur, desperate to comfort my baby.

"Did you see how he looked at me?" he asks, tortured. "It was like I had betrayed him."

"Roy, he's one. I doubt he realized what was happening."

"No, but he probably thought I should've stopped it sooner." He sighs, easing our son into my arms. "It's my job to keep him from being in pain."

"And you're doing great at it," I remind him.

"Riza–"

"It's my job to keep you from being in pain," I interrupt. "And as many times as I've failed to do that, I understand what you're feeling."

"Riza," he repeats softer. "Don't…"

"Then you don't either." My voice is so quiet, I'm afraid he doesn't hear me.

"Fine." He nods. "Let's go home."

I turn and settle Maes back into his car seat, carefully tucking the woven baby blanket around him, before we leave the room and head to checkout. Roy talks to Anna, straightening out the payment situation, while I entertain Maes with a game of Peek-A-Boo.

We walk out holding hands. Roy prefers to be touching me any time he can, and I can't say I don't enjoy it, so I usually agree. When we reach the car, I leave him to secure the car seat in the back while I get into the passenger seat. Once we're on the road, headed home, I turn to him.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," he admits. "I mean, I knew he was fine, but there was this irrational panic in my chest that something would be wrong. I'm glad it's over."

"Do we need to drop him off with Gracia for a little bit while I take care of you?"

"Take care of me?" He glances over at me with a frown.

I give him a suggestive look, and he quickly turns away, coughing.

"Um. Well, I didn't think…"

"You know she'll understand," I murmur.

"No," he says finally. "I think I want to take him out in the stroller for a little bit. He likes walks. We can take Black Hayate and go to the park, I guess."

"I'd like that. Fresh air is good."

"Plus, I want to keep an eye on him for a little bit. Make sure he doesn't get fussy or anything because of the shots."

I stare at him for a minute. I mean, how on earth did I get lucky enough to marry this man?

"What?" he asks sharply. "Is there something on my face? Is my hair messed up?"

"No," I reply quietly. "It's just…you."

"Me?"

"I love you," I announce breathlessly.

"Um, thanks? I love you, too, Riza."

I nod and look down at my lap. I can't explain it exactly. There's too much about him that I'm in love with. The sound of his voice. The things he says to me. The color of his eyes. The way he looks at me. His strength. His leadership abilities. His dorkiness and overprotectiveness. His touch. His smile. His abs.

The way he holds me and the way he makes love to me. The way he always knows what to say.

The way he loves our son.

It's too much.

"Roy, I could never tell you all of the ways I love you," I murmur.

"Riza, it hurts me to even try," he answers softly. "I love you like the earth loves the sun; without you, I would be dying, freezing in darkness, but even when I'm with you, you're too bright to look at directly. You are what sustains my life."

"Roy," I whisper.

He doesn't say anything else, but he reaches out a hand, and I take it. He rests them both on his thigh as he drives, and I glance back to look at Maes, whose eyelids are drooping again.

I love this life. This man. Our son. Two years ago, I wasn't sure where our relationship was going. If we were making the right choice finally acting on our feelings. But now I wake up to him beside me every day and raise our baby—the product of our love—alongside him. This was never a life I thought I would be living, but I wouldn't change a single minute of it.

I'm the wife to the man I've loved forever and a mother to that man's son. It's a dream come true. I would never ask for a different life.