Title: The Highest Happiness
Author: vanillavinegar
Rating: K+ (for married couple behavior)
Summary: The highest happiness on earth is marriage. –William Lyon Phelps
Warnings: SPOILERS for end of manga/Brotherhood, fluff, least creative baby name ever
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Hiromu Arakawa-san. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others.
Author's Notes: First entry I've written for the livejournal community fma_fic_contest. Written for prompt 81 – Papa!Ed.

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Winry hummed happily to herself as she left her workroom. She would not, could not regret becoming a mother – months of discomfort and aggravation had melted away to a dim memory the first time she saw Eddie smile – but it felt so good to be back working with automail again. She had given up her craft late in her seventh month, at the doctor's insistence and Ed's worried pestering, and even after her son was born she hadn't been allowed to return to her job until recently. Though, to be perfectly honest, she had never given up creating automail, even if it was only on paper or in her mind. When the doctor had finally cleared her for manual labor she had been only too eager to implement some of the designs she had thought up during her maternity leave.

So she felt terribly content – tired, true, but it was a welcome feeling, born of the work she loved – as she walked into their dark sitting room, wondering where she would find the other members of her family, who had been suspiciously quiet for the past few hours. What met her eyes made Winry gasp.

It wasn't merely her husband that made her start – though, she would easily admit, after being married to him for several years, that she found Ed more than attractive. Nor was it her son that inspired such a reaction – though, and Winry fancied herself a most objective source, he was undoubtedly the most beautiful baby there had ever been. The sight that made a smile steal across her face was her two boys sound asleep on the couch, two sets of snoring filling the room.

Winry took a moment to fix the scene in her memory: their son on Ed's stomach, a tiny thumb in his mouth. One of Ed's arms curled around him protectively; the fingers of his other brushed the rug. Her husband's mouth was slightly open, head propped on one armrest while his legs dangled over the opposite end. Even as she watched, Eddie made a small sound and buried his face into his father's chest; Ed's hand tightened momentarily as if in unconscious response. Winry bit the inside of her cheek to keep from cooing at the adorable picture they made; it would never do to wake Eddie when he was, for once, deeply asleep. Instead, she tiptoed to the couch and knelt, reaching out to shake her husband's shoulder gently.

Ed came awake with a start, but recognition quickly dawned on his face, along with his characteristic defensiveness. He opened his mouth and Winry could already hear his protests that he hadn't been asleep, merely resting and watching Eddie. She smirked, putting a finger to her lips. "Don't wake Eddie," she whispered.

Ed's guilty look changed to one of annoyance. What do you think I've been doing all afternoon besides not waking Eddie? it clearly said, and Winry bit down on her cheek again, this time holding back a giggle. He pointedly turned away from her to sit upright and shift the baby from his chest to his arms. Rubbing at his eyes with one hand, he murmured, "Shouldn't we feed him?"

Winry reached out to stroke the soft golden wisps of hair atop Eddie's head, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "He'll wake when he's hungry," she finally said. "I think we should let him sleep while we can." They both still felt a little unsure about being parents, and worried about doing the best for their son, but she thought this was right.

Judging by his nod, Ed agreed with her, and he moved quietly to place their son in the crib that stood nearby. Unlike the one in their room upstairs, this crib had one of her inventions strapped to the side – a little microphone, of the sort used by radio stations, which had a wire connecting it to a modified radio that sat on her bedside table. The radio/microphone system – she hadn't yet thought of a good name – allowed them to hear whenever Eddie fussed, if he was sleeping downstairs and they weren't with him. She had half a mind to make some adjustments and market her monitoring device, as Ed called it, but she hadn't had an opportunity to perfect it yet. There was always so much she wanted to do with automail, anyway, and side projects came after that and her family.

Winry smoothed a blanket over the snoring infant and stepped back into Ed's waiting arms. "He's so big already," she sighed. He had seemed so tiny when new born, but now…

"Good." Ed snorted. "I don't want anyone calling my son short."

She rolled her eyes. "Not that again."

"That book you had me read, the one by the doctor? It talks about how damaging it can be to a child to be called names like 'shrimp' all the time—"

"Good thing your head was big enough to make up for the rest of you, then," Winry said sweetly, poking him in the side where he was most ticklish. He jumped and scowled at her. "I just hope Eddie doesn't take after you in that one tiny respect," she continued, and Ed's frown deepened at her emphasis. Winry snickered, not bothering to disguise it, and leaned her head on his shoulder as she looked back at the still sleeping baby. Ed's arm tightened around her waist, and she sighed contentedly.

After several quiet moments, he spoke again, voice lowered expressively. "Do you want another one?"

"Ed, he's not even ten months old!" Winry feebly protested – until his tongue began tracing her ear. She turned to face him then, fingers curling into his shirt and yanking to bring his lips down to hers.

"Every Elric needs a younger sibling," Ed eagerly explained into her open mouth, and she laughed as they stumbled out of the room without releasing each other, only briefly pausing to flick her thoroughly useful invention on.