Title - Disapproval
Disclaimer - Arakawa owns them, I'm just playing
Characters/Pairing - Roy Mustang, Chris Mustang, Grumman
Timeline/Spoilers - mostly set when Roy is seven
Summary - Roy doesn't approve.
Author's Note - - The word count murdered me on this. Thanks to evil_little_dog for the beta. This is a slightly expanded version. The original can be found on fma_fic_contest for their prompt 'grope.' It tied for third.
Roy knew he shouldn't be here, but one of Von Hohenheim's books said an alchemist learned the most by observing the world around him, or at least that's what he thought it said. The book had to be a million years old, all yellow and cracked. So far no one had noticed him sitting behind a plant in the corner, watching his aunt and her girls work. There were so many pretty dresses and glittery jewels, but too many men were there, putting their hands on his sisters.
He squirmed, his knees getting tired of being cramped, then he saw his aunt. She was so pretty in purple. A man in military blues with a silly brown mustache talked to her. While they talked, the man reached down, grabbing a handful of Aunt Chris's butt.
"Don't you touch my aunt!" Roy cried, indignantly. Nearly knocking the plant over in his haste to get to his feet, he stomped over, oblivious to the fact all conversation had stopped.
"That isn't nice what you did!" Roy shoved the bemused man and his aunt grabbed him.
"Sorry, Colonel Grumman. My nephew is supposed to be upstairs asleep." Chris swatted Roy's butt. "I'll be right back. You, young man, are in trouble."
"But he touched your butt!" the seven year old protested, falling silent at her look.
Roy trailed after Grumman on the firing range, listening to this week's report. Grumman paused to pat Catalina on the ass and she squawked. "One of these days, you're going to get shot doing that," Roy said, walking on.
Grumman snorted. "You couldn't tell me not to do it years ago. You still can't, my boy."