It figures, Ed thought, that my brother would have TWINS.
With Edward Junior on one knee and Trisha on the other, Ed sighed and smiled at the two little perfect angels, who gurgled at him. Of course, they were pure evil inside. As much as anything that was a product of his brother's could be Pure Evil.
When Mustang finally came back in and took Edward Jr. off his lap, Ed shot him a glare. "Where'd you go, anyway?"
Roy waved a bottle at him. "I bought apple juice," he answered proudly, and offered the bottle to Edward Jr; he giggled and reached for it, and sucked away while Roy continued, "How did you get roped into babysitting, anyway, Fullmetal?"
Ed snorted, and picked up Trisha, openly searching Roy's pockets for the second bottle he KNEW Roy had until he found it. "Come on," he snorted. "As if I could say no to Al AND Winly looking at me like that." He offered the bottle to Trisha. "Besides, they haven't had a night to themselves in three months. You know." He blushed.
Roy smirked, and slid a finger down Ed's cheek with his free hand. "We haven't had a free night in a while, either."
Ed glared at him, mostly for good measure. "You KNOW, if you stopped SENDING ME AWAY, that wouldn't be a problem," he snarled, but then Trisha lost hold of her bottle and he had to catch it for her before she started to fuss. (In Ed's opinion, there was nothing more terrifying than a fussy baby. You never knew what they wanted, exactly, and sometimes you could do everything for them and they would still be crying, even though you'd spent the whole night holding them and carrying them around and changed their diaper twice and gave them three bottles and burped them, until you found out that they just wanted Mommy.)
Roy just gave Ed a look that said, 'you should know better'. "You don't really mind that much, do you?"
Ed sighed, and rocked Trisha a little. In truth, getting sent off to places—even overseas at times, these days—satisfied his wanderlust more than he cared to admit. And there was still a lot for Mustang to get done, and even when he was home, Roy wasn't always available (and at times, he was just too tired. Ed liked to snark at him about being old, but he didn't those nights). Yes, their goals had been satisified, but with a lot of scarring nationwide; the Fuhrer's disgrace and death had upset and ended a long reign, the Sins had set out to destroy the military, and restoring his brother...
Suffice to say it had been a miserable few months, and the restoration was something Ed was all too glad to throw himself into.
"No," he said finally. He smirked. "I am only too honored to serve you, Generalissimo."
Roy snorted and smacked Ed's ass as he walked by. "Of course you are," he said as Ed squawked indignantly. "As well you should be."
"So," Roy continued, his gaze falling to Edward Jr in his arms. "To pay me back for helping you tonight, you promise you'll take me out for dinner tomorrow, correct?"
Ed waved him off, taking the near-empty bottle from Trisha (who was beginning to doze, thank heaven). "On my salary? The best you'll get is soup and salad."
"You're a poor liar, Fullmetal, I know exactly what you're paid, and no matter how much you spend on your brother, I doubt you cannot afford a fine dinner. Perhaps I'll just take the difference out of your next paycheck," Roy answered, his gaze not lifting from Edward Jr., although a smile ghosted across his face.
"You always think you're so entitled," Ed rolled his eyes, but he looked up at the Fuhrer, rocking his brother's son back and forth; his gaze was soft, and Ed thought, for a moment, that Roy might have made a great father, and definitely made a great uncle. "Is he asleep?" Ed whispered, indicating the twin son.
"mm, just about." Roy glanced up at him. "I will enjoy informing everyone that Edward fell asleep in my arms last night, after I fed him."
Ed growled, but didn't answer loudly for fear of waking the babies. "You dare, and I'll transmute your uniform into a tutu," he threatened. "Try figuring out the transmutation circle to get THAT back." But he sighed before Mustang could answer. "I transmuted the crib in the other room," he said, leading the way to the living room/dining room of the flat they shared when Roy wasn't staying in the ridiculous show-mansion he owned as the Fuhrer—strictly speaking, it was only big enough for one person, but often enough only one person was home to enjoy it, anyway—no need to spend extra taxpayer money, especially with the value of coin dropping rapidly as it was in the economic collapse following the mayhem of the Fuhrer's death.
They deposited the children in said transmuted crib, made of wood stolen out of the wall and blankets from the bed, and lay them down to sleep, and Roy brushed back free strands of hair from Ed's neck and rested his chin on his shoulder, bending down to do so. "They'll be all right now?" he asked.
Ed snorted. "We aren't doing anything, if that's what you mean," he answered, leaning back a little on Roy. "We have to be able to hear them if they cry, and I can't hear anything over your moans."
Roy poked Ed in the ticklish spot under his right arm, and Ed yelped despite himself. "I meant, is it all right if we leave them alone and we have dinner," Roy answered. "Is sex all you ever think about, Edward?"
"Speak for yourself," Ed shot back, but he didn't protest when Roy kissed his neck before straightening. "... Dinner sounds good," he added after a moment.
"I'll fix something," Roy promised, and with a gentle squeeze of Ed's shoulder, he went to the kitchen.
Ed stayed and looked at the twins, sleeping peacefully for the moment; then he turned back going to the kitchen as well. "Thanks," he said after a long moment.
"For dinner? That's a bit premature," Roy said, getting out the noodles Ed had bought the day before.
"No ..." Ed trailed off, glancing back at the room the twins were in. "For, uh ... making the world a little bit better for them." He jerked a thumb in their direction.
Roy smiled, then, a gentle smile, and went to get something started on the stove. "You have a part in that too, you know. Perhaps on a more personal level than I."
Ed thought about that. And then he shrugged. "Mm," he said noncommitally, sitting down on one of the stools at the counter; his stomach growled. "Maybe I mean the food, after all."
Roy chuckled. "In that case, my pleasure, Edward." And with that, he turned back to his cooking, and Ed waited impatiently for him to finish.
Maybe he'd fall asleep in the Generalissimo's arms after getting fed, after all.