A/N:This is a sequel to my story For Her. For Him. It is definitely a work in progress and I can't guarantee the updates will come as fast as the last story, but I will try. For those who didn't read the last story, I have included summaries both for new readers and refreshers for those who read my last one.
Yes, this is a follow-up to an MPreg, but I established in the last story it was a rare situation that allowed Ed to be a surrogate for Riza and Roy's babies, incorporating his own DNA into them. It is mentioned and an accepted fact in this story, with occassional mentions, mostly this chapter. I didn't include the MPreg warning because it isn't an actual event in this story. If you don't like that Ed was the one who delivered the two babies, please don't flame me, just don't read.
Riza died in the last story, and I will try to include the major differences directly into the story. Next chapter will be a lemon, I promise. I thought it would make it in this one, but I was wrong.
Also, I don't own or profit from these characters.
Just Like Every Morning
Ed loved mornings, not caring that each and every one he woke up the same way each and every time, Roy's arm wrapped around his waist (sometimes his own around Roy's), their bodies pressed together. Ed had never been one for cuddling, but his husband apparently was, and the teen supposed it was rubbing off on him. Ed, despite a general dislike for mornings, now always woke up just a bit early, before Roy's alarm went off, before the babies' morning feeding. It had started as a way to get some peace and quiet, using the fifteen or so minutes before the still-new fuhrer roused, stumbling around for his uniform and paperwork he'd left unfinished from the day before. To enjoy those moments before one, then two babies were crying for their morning bottle, before Al rose from his bed in the room down the hall to help, always the conscientious—and tall, damn it—brother, before Roy tried to make breakfast, splattering something on the uniform he should have put on after trying to fry bacon.
Ed took these moments when he could get them before the day had begun, gathering his thoughts. These were his moments to himself, where he could smile happily at the thought of his spouse or their children, or his human younger brother. Or, he could think back on the people he'd lost, some of whom had sacrificed themselves for his own sake, Teacher, Marta, Maes, Riza, Scar, Lust, and Wrath.
Today, it was the boy who occupied Ed's thoughts. Trying as hard as he could, the teen couldn't shake the image of the young homunculus willingly crossing through the gate for Al's sake, for the sake of the babies, which seemed to be the gate's first choice of a sacrifice for Al's body. Ed knew how much Wrath had hated the Gate—Ed had nearly been killed for mentioning it when they'd first encountered one another—yet the only expression on the young homunculus's face had been that of resolve. Perhaps it had been Izumi's death, his own attachment to Ed—which never would have happened if the alchemist had been in control of his own emotions and actions when they first met—or maybe, it had been the information that he was not going to become human, no matter what or how hard they tried.
Whatever it had been, Wrath had been certain about crossing through the gate. Ed only wished he had the same determination the homunculus had at that moment. But, as he thought to himself, he knew that had he been an option as a viable sacrifice for his brother, he might have done the same.
Thankfully, he would never have to know.
Ed slid out from beneath Roy's arm, placing a kiss above the man's good eye, very near the patch that rarely left Roy's face. It didn't matter how often Ed told Roy that he didn't mind the scars or the false eye, something in the fuhrer wouldn't allow himself to be seen by anyone, not even Ed, without it.
The blond moved to the closet, pulling out something comfortable, looking at the black leather pants, black shirt and red coat hanging at the rear of the closet. Smiling to no one in particular, he reminded himself of what his plans were for that outfit. Ed pulled off the white tank-top he'd slept in, tossing it into the laundry basket nearby. He caught his reflection in the floor-length mirror, which Roy, pervert that he was, had angled just slightly toward the bed sometime last night. His body was back intact, at least as intact as it would ever be, automail still present, scars still there, but the stomach, the chest, they had returned to normal, better than normal. His body reflected that he was almost a year older since the babies had started to turn his taut, muscular form to flab and stretched skin.
Thankfully, it all looked normal again, except for the hips. They'd never go back, but what the hell did he care? There were far too many things to be grateful for to worry about a set of wide hips: he'd been able to act as surrogate for Roy and Riza's babies and have those babies become as much his as theirs, he'd managed to carry them because of an alchemic transmutation that didn't decide to make the other changes more permanent, and he and Roy had overcome the struggle to admit their feelings for one another, something which Ed to this day was sure would never have happened without a catalyst to push them together. Wide hips were a small price to pay
Ed put on the blue shirt he'd pulled out of the closet, pulling out the Flamel necklace from beneath his shirt. Roy had given it to him before their first date, and it had hardly left his body since. He pulled his blond hair into a quick ponytail, not taking the time to braid it, since it was a mess and tangled at the moment. The teen glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping man on their bed, cursing him silently for pulling it out of the braid last night. For the sake of Roy being able to wrap his fingers in it, Ed was going to go through hell this morning brushing it out.
Ed pulled down the boxers, replacing them with a new pair, pulling on a pair of denim jeans, walking out of the bedroom only to be greeted by a very happy Black Hayate, who had taken to sleeping each night at the couple's door. He rubbed the large dog on his head, watching as the large dark eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets in contentment at the sensation of his automail hand scratching between the dog's ears. He closed the door, practically counting out the five seconds it usually took before Black Hayate had his paws on his shoulders and was lapping at his face. The teen was grateful the dog was finally done growing, now that he was equal to the blond in height when he was on his hind legs.
With the large pet in tow, Ed went to the nursery, poking his head in to make sure the three-month-old babies
were both sleeping, and once satisfied, he walked by his brother's room, hearing the faint sound of snoring, even through the wooden door. Ed pitied the woman who married his brother. While Ed found the sound of Al's loud snores endearing because Al hadn't been able to sleep or breathe for so long, he seriously doubted if he had to share a bed with the sixteen-year-old, he'd find it so enjoyable.
The young alchemist made his way downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing the pot he and Roy had just resigned to leave on the back burner. He filled it up with fresh water, turned on the gas stove and began boiling the water, knowing it was far better just to get this started before he had two demanding children needing to be fed. On top of the icebox, her favorite place, Ed saw Carlida, their calico cat, though she was more Ed's than even Al's. While Ed removed a can of formula from the nearby cupboard, he watched as the cat held her eyes together tightly, an attempt at mimicking sleep.
"Still mad at me for last night?" he said as he placed two triangular openings in the can and poured it into two bottles that had been sitting upside down on a towel by the sink. "You know Roy doesn't like having an audience, even if it's only you or Black Hayate." Remembering the mirror, Ed thought to himself that Fuhrer Mustang didn't mind getting a show while he performed, however.
Ed placed the two bottles in the water while he went to let Black Hayate outside. He wasn't quite sure when it had happened or how, but somewhere along the line, he'd become just as domesticated as the two animals. Though Roy had never said it aloud, Ed knew it had to please the hell out of the fuhrer.
So domesticated had Ed become that it was only a mild irritation that he was beginning to feel like the woman in this relationship.
At that thought, he heard the first of the morning cries. This time Nicholas. By the time Ed got the two bottles, ensured the formula was warm enough without being too warm, he heard Aideen crying too, as well as the sound of the obnoxious bells of Roy's alarm. Morning was here and his day had started, whether he was ready for it or not.
Wrath slept huddled in the tiny crawlspace near the attic at the orphanage. He was still trying to make sense of what had happened to him, how he'd been forced to live over the last three months. The other version of himself, which he was certain was what he'd heard when he first awoke in London, said he wanted to die. At first, Wrath hadn't understood why this Ulysses, a person who looked and sounded exactly like him would be so willing to give up on living.
Then he'd seen the eleven-year-old's life.
It wasn't as though Wrath couldn't handle it. He was more than capable of fighting the older boys, even with a body that was nowhere near as strong as the homunculus one he'd left behind. He could fight them off with Ulysses' pathetically skinny, non-muscular frame because he knew how to fight. He knew what to do whenever the older boys cornered him for whatever devious purposes they had in mind. Wrath had never been so thankful of Envy as he'd been when he found he was already accustomed to fighting a much more skilled opponent than these twelve and thirteen-year-olds.
It had been when some of their attacks became physical in a different nature that Wrath found himself at a loss for how to handle himself. He didn't try to fight, just ran the hell away and stayed away any time he might be left alone with these boys.
Much of the time, there was an adult somewhere, even if the adult didn't really give a damn about what happened to them, they usually didn't approve of the boys trying to use Wrath in that manner, one time hearing the lady who ran the bakery say it went against moral values and was a mortal sin.
Under other circumstances, Wrath might have argued that they were small-minded idiots and that in even his short existence, he'd gotten to see two couples very devoted to one another, one being his mother and Sig, or would it be father?, the other Ed and Roy. One of those couples would have been accepted in this world, the other would not, yet Wrath didn't seem able to understand why. Aside from the familiarity of many years together, there were very few differences between the two, and normally, he would have defended the two men.
But now… now he heartily joined in on the choruses of "it's sinful, it's wrong, it will condemn you to hell"—wherever hell was—as long as it kept him from being a forced participant.
Rising well before dawn, Wrath climbed out of the crawlspace, moving to the main bedroom where the other orphans were still asleep, Wrath found one of the pails of water and rags to clean himself off, first breaking through the layer of ice on the top, then leaving to start morning chores, to get them accomplished before the other boys arose so that he could get a few minutes to himself to train, to exercise before breakfast. He was determined to get this body to the best physical shape he could on what they were feeding him, and get the hell out.
Roy sat at his desk in Central, glad that most of the moving in was finally done. He didn't really want the spot, but he'd taken it, what the hell, he was Fuhrer Mustang now. Still, he was content with his old office and old window. This one was too big, too regal, and provided far too much distraction when the man wanted to procrastinate.
He watched with a grimace as Vato Falman walked into his office, stack of folders in his arms. "Here you go, all for your attention."
"Lieutenant, remind me again why I wanted to be fuhrer?"
"I believe it was something about making this country a better place."
"I was out of my mind."
Falman chuckled good-naturedly as he let the huge stack of folders thump down on Roy's mahogany desk.
"How are the babies?"
"Sleeping a little more through the night, thankfully," Roy said as he ran a hand through his hair, brushing along the band of the patch.
"Being a surprisingly good sport about being the one at home with the kids, but that's mostly because he didn't want a nanny." Honestly, Roy hadn't either, but he'd have accepted it because it wasn't fair to Ed to keep him cooped up at the house all day. "And he has Al there to help him, and Winry should be here in Central in about an hour, so it's not as though I'm leaving him alone."
Roy pulled the first folder off of his desk and opened it, glancing over the requests that Prime Minister Hakuro had put in for the construction of the new parliament building. Roy disliked having to ask the man to serve as the first Prime Minister until the position could become an elected office, but the former General had been next in line for the position of fuhrer and the colonel, in a massive rebellion, had managed to usurp the title from his grasp. It was small consolation for the older man, but as Roy kept reminding him, the country would always remember the first Prime Minister even if twenty followed and all were forgotten in between, the first would be remembered. For all Roy knew, he could go down in history as the man who appointed a Prime Minister and parliament and be forgotten for all else.
Checking over the budget requests, Roy X-ed off a few items, adding that where the design for the seats in the Parliament was suggested to be oak, Roy opted for pine unless the new prime minister was willing to recycle material, as Roy had by merely moved his desk from his former office to the new one, more than willingly giving away the bastard fuhrer's piece of furniture.
"Have you gotten the reports from General Armstrong of the rebuilding of Lior?" he asked Falman.
"See that thick one near the bottom?"
"Why does that man have to insist on overdoing everything?"
"Because otherwise he wouldn't be Armstrong. Don't worry too much about the size of the file. It is mostly of photos of statues he's made of himself throughout Lior." Roy looked at the older man disapprovingly. He wasn't supposed to read the reports from Roy's soldiers. "They fell out, sir. You know I wouldn't read classified files."
"For someone who isn't an egomaniac," Roy said, "I have never seen someone so in love with himself as Alex Armstrong."
"There are a few shots in there of statues he created of a certain doctor who traveled down there with him."
Roy disregarded the folder from Hakuro to grab the encyclopedia-sized report. Flipping through the stacks of photos of bronze statues of Armstrong and marble statues of Armstrong, and stone Armstrong supporting awnings over buildings, he finally found it. Shots of reconstructed buildings with female figures gracing the walls, figures that looked distinctly like Raine Mustang, Roy's older sister.
Falman seemed to be trying not to smile. "I am sure that the general must be excited, joining the illustrious Armstrong and Mustang lines, hearing Armstrong tradition stories at every holiday and family gathering."
Roy shuddered at the thought.
Ed laid on the floor on his stomach, Aideen across from him in the same position. The dark-haired little baby raised her head to look at him as he did the same, pressing his forehead to her fair one. She smiled at him, tongue half-out.
"Brother, I'm going to go change Nicholas. Does Aideen need changing?"
"Thanks, Al. No." Ed looked Aideen in those eyes like molten lava. "You don't stink, do you?" The little girl's smile broadened. He helped her roll onto her back, while he did what amounted to push-ups over her body, kissing her soft little face, pressing their noses to one another. Aideen tried to look around with those almond-shaped eyes, but seeing her difficulty, Ed scooped her fidgety little body into his arms, laid on his back, knees up and let her rest against the support of his legs.
Working out had taken on this form for Ed for the last few months, using the excuse of playing with the babies as a way to improve his abs or his arms. Ed joked with his brother that they were probably the most painful piece of exercise equipment to get, but knowing that each time he raised his head doing sit-ups, arms never releasing their hold on the baby, he got a smile and an occasional laugh, was enough of a reason to do it again. He could do a thousand sit-ups this way, as Aideen grabbed for his face, chubby little hands grasping at his nose and bangs.
Then Aideen, overly excited, leaned her head forward, smacking it with a thud against the bridge of Ed's nose. It brought tears to the blond's eyes and Aideen started crying almost immediately. "You're crying? That was just your forehead," Ed said, fighting away the stinging tears as he scooped his little girl into his arms and held her against him. Then, as the crying seemed certain to get worse, it stopped almost all together. Ed held his daughter in his automail hand, wiping away the tears on her face with his left, looking at how calm her eyes looked. "I didn't mean you had to stop all at once." Those eyes narrowed, glaring at him. "What? You're mad at me because you slammed your head into mine?" The tiny scowl remained, but all Ed could do was laugh at how strange it looked on her little features. With her parents, why was he so surprised she could manage to look at him with such tiny venom for the little accident?
Wrath charged through the streets of London, deciding that his time to run away was today, as the boys had nearly had him cornered, for a beating or something else, he didn't know, nor did he have any plans of finding out. It wasn't as though he was the only boy on the streets, he wouldn't be noticed. It was just that he'd hoped to have a plan before he charged out on his own.
Looking over his shoulder, he ran directly into a taller blond, slamming himself to the street, and sending the young man staggering backwards.
"Hey, kid, are you okay?" the older teen asked, holding out a hand to Wrath, but the stubborn boy didn't take it, deciding to stand on his own.
"I'm fine." He looked up, seeing blond hair, strange golden brown eyes—practically a very familiar shade of gold from another time, another place. "ED! What are you doing here? I thought… Wasn't what I did enough? Why are you here? What happened to the babies? Where's Al? That damned Gate. I thought I was enough. Where is your metal arm?"
This Ed looked at Wrath, the expression on the young man's face making the boy stop. "You seem to think you know me already, but I'm not who you think I am." Wrath couldn't help but notice the accent was like that of the boys at the orphanage, only more refined. He looked up at this teen, with his much lighter blond hair, wide innocent eyes that had more of a brown tint to them than Wrath had remembered. "If you trust me, I think there is someone who might be able to help you. He lives at my boarding house." This Ed put his hand on Wrath's shoulder. "Do you trust me to take you to him?"
Wrath nodded and followed. "Is… is your name Ed?"
"Yes, it is, but most people call me Edward. What is your name?"
"Um… when I got here, they called me Ulysses, but I used to go by Wrath."
"I think I will call you Ulysses, if you don't mind."
Wrath shook his head. He didn't mind if this teen called him Fluffy if it got him out of the orphanage.