Disclaimer: I do not own FMA in any way. (Rhymin') :D

A/N: This one's a little weird (awkward, just doesn't flow right, I think), but oh well~

I like the thought of some of these being like... hidden-angst stories. Like the mama's boy thing, yeah, just think about it, it gets angsty after a few good seconds of contemplation. This too, because... Well, I'll continue this author's note in a moment!

He Will

Van Hohenheim stood in the center of their new nursery, betwixt the freshly painted red walls, and admired all of their hard work. With a baby on the way, everything had been terribly hectic, but this room had been a more pleasant experience. Things seemed to have mellowed out now that Trisha was confident they had a proper plan for the rest of their lives.

But, that was just it, they didn't. She did. For the rest of her life, and he wanted one too – so badly – wanted to die; with her.

He didn't want to outlive his own child.

With a scowl he attempted to steer his thoughts in another direction, however fruitless the effort may be.

He was so sure that her womb would grant them a beautiful baby girl, he knew it, but for some reason Trisha insisted on always speaking to them as if she already saw that they were her "little man". He hoped she wouldn't be too embarrassed when she had a daughter, but he'd warned her not to go making silly assumptions It wasn't that he didn't want a son – he was sure that every man had that want somewhere deep inside of him, or, rather, not so deep – but maybe he didn't. Not really. At least not now, the country would be in turmoil at some point or another, and a daughter would be easier to keep safe. To protect.

He sincerely hoped that she looked like Trisha, he wasn't quite prepared for anything so cute and sweet as a child to be running around looking like him.

What will we name her? He mused silently his hand idly trailing across the cherry-glazed wood of the crib. It wasn't long before a million eager voices all bursting forth with eager ideas come swarming through his mind. He clenched his fist tightly.

Normally he would not despair over talking with the people of Xerxes, but at this moment – right now – he did not want a remind of who (what) he really was. He wanted to be Van Hohenheim, soon-to-be father and man in love, and that's all...

(Perhaps Van Elric, it would be a name granted to him then by someone he adored, rather than...)

...that's it. Nothing more.

Jane! Vanessa. Alexia... Elzabeth... Ansley... He shook away the voices and released his firm grip on his child's new bed. He inspected the place he had been holding, checking for any imperfections that he may have caused, but all seemed well.

Another glance around the room made him sigh in exasperation once more. When Trisha had suggested they color the nursery red he had been shocked, but she was so adamant he could not deny her. A pastel blue or light yellow would have been preferable, perhaps a lavender. A color that was unisex, yet still leaned further toward femininity in its softness. Not the bright, glaring red that adorned the walls now. But she was positive her "little man" would love it.

He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips with the thought. She was so adorable, ever excited about her impending newborn. She could go on about her hopes for hours, and he would still be content just to sit and listen to her forever.

He wished that he could, but eventually, she would waste away.

He needed to stop, stop bringing his thoughts back to the same place. He would deal with that when the time came, but right now he had to focus on their life. Together.

"Van? Honey, what are you doing out of bed, it's late."

Hohenheim turned where he stood, catching sight of his sleepy wife perched carefully just beyond the door frame, encased by the darkness of the hall. Even in shadow she was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

"Trisha, I couldn't sleep, you should go back to bed. I'll be there soon."

She said nothing in return, sinking into the room and placing a hand on her shoulder; the other rested gently upon the swell of her belly. She wordlessly joined him in watching the empty cloth of the blankets within the crib. They were silent for a long time, and Hohenheim gently lifted his hand to place it atop hers.

"What if they don't like me?" he murmured, after a long moment.

His eyes shut tight against the sight of the nursery. He could hear a thousand voices whispering inside of him, but he couldn't make out any of the words. "What if they hate me?"

A soft caress of his cheek brought his eyes back open once more, and he found her smile immediately in the soft illumination of the room. "I love you," she whispered, leaning upward to touch her lips to his for a lingering second. His eyes shut once more, reveling in this (how long can it last?) moment, and finding her absent long before he was prepared for her to be gone.

His golden eyes slit open to find her green gaze amorous and attentive before him, "And he, he'll love you too."

She hugged him then, and he gripped her tight, his nose buried deep in the warm comfort of her hair, the mellifluous sense of her being, "will he?" He asked, breathing her in, savoring her, "will he?

"He will," she sighed into his neck, her lips ghosting over his skin, barely touching, "he will. He will. He will. I promise."

…

"You will, won't you little man? Yes, you will..."Trisha smiled against the warm nearness of her husband, her lover, and with a great sigh, he pulled her closer. "He will."

A/N: Because he WILL hate you! Hahaha! :)