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The May afternoon was sunny and seasonably warm. Alphonse, Edward, and Roy were gathered around his car, frowning. Winry was on her cell talking to her mechanic friend.
“Yeah, classic Mustang.” She looked back a Roy. “She wants the details.”
Roy didn’t want to share them. He wasn’t in the habit of letting strangers touch his baby. Winry’s glare changed his mind.
“1967 Shelby GT500,” Roy said reluctantly.
Winry relayed this information. Roy heard an excited squeal from the phone.
“She says that if it has a 428 Cobra-Jet V8 she’s going to shit her pants,” Winry relayed dutifully, trying not to grin.
“I hope she has a change of clothes handy,” Roy said apologetically, trying not to sound too smug. “Better not mention the original mid-rise aluminum intake and twin 4-barrel 600 CFM Holley carburetors.”
“He says . . . .” Winry looked blankly at the phone, then slipped it into her pocket. “I guess she heard you. She hung up. She’s probably on her way over. I hope nobody gets in her way.”
Roy kept his grimace internal. “It’s really not necessary,” he said for the sixteenth time and counting. “When Roadside Assistance gets here they’ll tow my car to my mechanic, and I can go along for the ride. From there I can borrow a car and come back for Ed so we can head over to Maes’ place.”
Because there was no way he could cancel, as Maes had cheerfully implied when Roy had called to let him know about the car trouble. Roy had promised his best friend that he would bring Edward over for dinner one weekend, and this was the designated weekend. Roy had made it as far as Ed’s apartment; then, for the third time in as many months, Roy’s Mustang had refused to start.
“You can borrow my car,” Winry offered. “Then you can just leave from here after your car is towed, and you won’t have to do all that back and forth-ing. You’re already going to be late.”
“No way,” Ed said firmly before Roy could even answer. “What if Al needs to go to emerg while we’re gone?”
Alphonse rolled his eyes. “You’ll only be gone for a few hours, Brother,” he said. “It’s not that much of a risk.”
“You shouldn’t even be outside, Al,” Ed admonished. “If you catch a virus or something your transplant date will get pushed back again.”
Al fingered the zipper of the oversized parka that Ed had insisted he wear to leave the apartment. “You don’t catch viruses from being outside, Brother. You catch them from other people.”
“I know that!” Ed said, outraged. Then he gestured wildly around the quiet neighbourhood. “There are people all over the place!”
Everyone looked around. The only movement on the street was a single squirrel watching the action from the lawn next door and a woman walking her dog three blocks away on the opposite side of the street.
The debate was interrupted by the unmistakeable roar of a barely legal two-stroke engine shattering the quiet of the afternoon while cheerfully destroying the environment. Something that looked like a neon blue fighter jet on two wheels skidded into the curb. The rider kicked down the stand and doffed her helmet in one smooth motion before springing from the saddle. Her eyes were on Roy’s baby and nothing else.
To Roy, the girl looked to be about the same age as Ed, but shorter and more slender. The bulky leather jacket she wore did little to disguise her slight physique, and Roy was kind of surprised that she could handle a bike of that calibre. Her warm brown eyes were locked on Roy’s Mustang in awe, and as she ran fingers over dark hair pulled back in a short, tight tail, Roy noticed scars on her hand, lighter skin traced over deep brown.
“She’s beautiful,” the girl breathed.
“Thank you,” Roy answered. Then he offered a hand. “Roy Mustang.”
She tore her eyes off the Mustang to take it. “Paninya Freemason. Pleased to meet you.” Then she gave Roy the once over. “So. Ed’s boyfriend.”
It hadn’t consciously occurred to Roy that he was exactly that until this moment. “Yes,” he said, and couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve already arranged for a tow truck to take my car to my regular mechanic,” he continued, apologetic. “I’m sorry you came over for no real reason.”
Paninya laughed. “Just getting to see a classic like this is reason enough.”
The girl went back to examining the car. She was very respectful, never laying a finger on it, just taking in every detail.
“This red isn’t factory,” Panniya said with a small frown. A statement, not a question.
“You’re right.” Roy was impressed. Not many would notice the subtle difference between Ford’s cherry red and the fire engine red Roy preferred.
“Can I look under the hood?” she asked, almost shyly. “Don’t worry,” she added hastily, “I won’t touch a thing. I just want to see it.”
Roy walked around to the front of the car, reached under the lower grill, and popped the latch. Then he lifted the hood.
Paninya peered inside and sighed contentedly.
Roy’s baby was not a concours car. She could not boast a strict factory finish to her every aspect including the bolts, nuts, and brackets. She was a working girl, albeit a pampered one. Nevertheless, Roy was still proud of her engine bay.
Neatness and quality workmanship had been Roy’s rule of thumb. The 428 Cobra-Jet was a masterpiece and chrome was the order of the day, from the Ford racing valve covers, to the master cylinder, march pulleys, shock tower brackets, thermostat housing, throttle linkage – even the dipsticks and tubes. Her hoses and wires were a matched set, royal blue held neatly in place by chrome brackets and wire looms. He had not detailed her engine in a while; still, his baby’s shinning heart was an impressive testament to her power.
If only she would start.
Paninya took in the sight, a small grin quirking her lips. Then she frowned slightly and gave Roy the side eye.
“So let me get this straight. You drive her around, like, every day? In the rain even? On these crappy roads that have more potholes than the moon has craters?” Paninya asked, incredulous.
“In the snow, too,” Ed threw in. “All winter.”
Paninya was scandalized to confirm this by taking note of the snow tires Roy had yet to switch out. “I mean, most people would just take her out on special occasions and store her somewhere safe, especially for the winter.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Roy said thoughtfully. “I did consider it. But after all the time and effort I put into getting her roadworthy I couldn’t lock her away. She deserves to be driven.”
Nobody said anything for a few moments.
“I told you he was a dork,” Ed said quietly.
Al, Winry, and Paninya nodded solemnly.
“Well, he’s cute, and has good taste in cars,” Paninya finally passed judgement. “I suppose that’s something. I mean, the car thing alone would be a must for anyone I went out with, for sure. Good going, Ed.” She gave him a thumbs up.
Edward frowned. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Roy actually has a lot of redeeming qualities, Pani,” Winry said, all innocence. “He’s a regular knight in shining armour. He came to rescue his princess in the middle of a blizzard.”
“I’m not a princess,” Edward growled as Roy hid his smirk safely inside.
“If only you’d seen him that night when he had to sleep on our couch. He was ducking and weaving around our questions like a prize fighter, all in defence of Brother’s honor,” Al confided, causing Ed to sputter and Paninya to snort.
“I don’t have any honor that needs defending,” Ed declared.
“And don’t forget how he refused the history lesson, Al,” Winry reminded, ignoring Ed’s rebuttal. “Mustang’s got integrity, I’ll give him that.”
In the midst of all this, the awaited tow truck pulled up to the curb in front of Roy’s car. The driver reached across to crank the passenger window down. Leaning out, he gave Roy and the small crowd gathered around his car an amused grin. The big, dark-skinned man had a nice smile, dark eyes twinkling below a bushy, tied back mass of dreads.
“Mr. Mustang?” he asked, smile widening when Roy raised a hand. “Nice car.”
“It’s nicer when it’s running,” Roy returned, smile rueful.
The tow driver swung out of the truck and stuck out a hand. “Jerso,” he said. “I’ll take good care of your baby.”
“Roy,” Roy returned accepting the hand. “I appreciate that.”
True to his word, the big man was careful as he quickly and efficiently fit the big clamps around the front wheels of Roy’s car, lifted it, and winched on the straps.
“Are you coming along for the ride?” Jerso asked, wiping his hands on the shop cloth hanging from his belt.
“If you don’t mind,” Roy said, moving to the passenger side of the truck.
“We’re following you!”
Roy turned to see Paninya kickstarting her bike, and Ed hopping on behind her.
Roy’s preferred garage wasn’t very far. It was actually about halfway between Edward’s apartment and Roy’s home. He had called ahead to let his mechanic know that he was coming, and so the small convoy was greeted by a man with a messy mop of blond hair and a scruffy goatee sitting in a wheelchair outside the shop. As usual, he was smoking a cigarette. Roy was glad to see him.
Jean Havoc had been under Roy’s command once upon a time, a second lieutenant when his injuries sustained in the line of duty warranted his honorable discharge. As annoying as his constant smoking was, there were worse habits, and Havoc had been one of the most honest, loyal, and courageous soldiers Roy had ever met. Like many of Roy’s closest subordinates, their professional relationship had naturally grown into personal friendship, forged under fire in the hardest of times. Over the years, first in combat zones and later in civilian life, Roy had come to rely on Jean’s simple, common sense approach to challenges, as well as his quiet sarcasm in the face of blatant stupidity.
Jean had been a master mechanic when he’d enlisted. Successfully completing officer training had taken him out of the motor pool and the wrench out of his hand. His injuries had put him right back where he’d started, wrench and all.
Well, almost where he’d started. The wheelchair was new, courtesy of Project Disarm and some disastrously ill-advised orders issued from somewhere higher up the food chain. Not that Jean let it hold him back or get him down. He’d taken his disability severance and pooled it with his savings to open a small repair shop, and was happy never to look back.
Right now he didn’t look too happy however, seeing the Mustang he and Roy had worked their asses off to restore dangling from a tow hook. Again.
Jean wheeled himself over to the curb to wave the tow driver into a convenient space on the small lot. Roy swung out of the truck just as Paninya and Ed pulled up. Jerso set about dropping the Mustang. Jean looked from Roy, to Paninya, to Ed, and back to Roy with a raised eyebrow.
Roy made the introductions. “Jean, this is Paninya, a friend of Edward’s.” The girl waved. “And this is Edward.”
Jean grinned. “So. The Colonel’s boyfriend. I knew you’d be blond.”
Ed smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
Roy rolled his eyes. “I need to borrow your loaner,” he said. “We were supposed to be at Maes’ place an hour ago.”
“Yeah sure,” Jean said, distracted as he cranked his custom chair up to a height comfortable for leaning into an engine compartment. “Keys are in my tool box. Help yourself.”
As soon as he popped the hood Paninya was beside him, looking into the engine bay.
Jean gave her his most winning smile. “Like cars, do you?” he observed.
“I work at Dom’s Auto,” Paninya said with pride. “Third year apprentice.”
Jean whistled low, impressed. “Old Domenic is a hard-ass. Amazing mechanic though.”
Paninya hummed. “Cool chair by the way.”
“Customized it myself,” Jean told her.
Roy missed the rest of that conversation as he went into Jean’s shop to trawl through his toolbox for car keys. When he came back out Jean, Paninya, and Ed were all staring at the Mustang’s viscera.
“Any ideas?” Roy asked hopefully.
“Nope, but I’ll get right on it,” Jean said, frowning. “I missed something, but I can’t figure out what. It’s not the starter, solenoid, or cables, and I didn’t find anything wrong with the distributor when I replaced the cap and rotor. Battery’s new and fully charged. All the grounds are fine.”
“What about the ignition cylinder?” Paninya asked.
Jean turned to her slowly, eyes wide. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Could it be that simple?”
Roy certainly hoped so. But for now . . .
“I hate to break up the party, but if we don’t get to Hughes’ place soon he’s going to mobilize an Emergency Task Force to bring us in.”
“No problem,” Jean said, waving a hand toward the rear of the lot. “Rambo’s back there. Say hi to the Hughes for me.” Then he looked over at Paninya. “You want to stick around?”
Paninya lit up like a hundred watt bulb. “Sure!”
As he and Edward pulled out of the lot in Jean’s battered Toyota, Roy took note of how Jean and Paninya were leaning over his baby, together in animated conversation. It gave him a warm feeling that he wasn’t sure how to interpret. Roy had never been in a relationship like this before, and hadn’t thought beyond the concept of he and Ed as a couple. He thought about it now, and considered himself rather myopic not to realize that neither he nor Ed existed in isolation. It was very likely that as they grew closer, Roy’s family would come to blend with Edward’s.
The notion was as auspicious as it was frightening, and Roy couldn’t help but smile.