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And I know the cars back then/they use don't have seatbelts but seatbelts are important. Secure your seatbelts, kids.

In Which There Is More Than One Baby

Havoc's ears perked when he heard voices nearing the office. Their voices. He had to smile. Of course they were bickering.

"Don't drop it!" Hawkeye was hissing just as the door opened. Havoc leaned back in his chair, an unlit cigarette in his mouth, ready to greet with some sly remark, but it got stuck in his throat. The cigarette fell into his lap, unheeded. The Colonel – well, General, that was – marched into the office, a bundle in his arms. A wiggling bundle in his arms. Nope, those were definitely not important documents he was about to drop on their first day back after almost six months in Ishval. That was a baby.

Where there had been a cheeky comment on his lips – something he was not used to since they had left, and with that, left behind the relaxed, buddy-atmosphere of their team – there was now dry, embarrassing gaping, Havoc's eyes somewhat popping where they blankly stared at his superiors.

Mustang strut in, now rocking the bundle with what almost looked practised yet clumsy. It did not help in the slightest, a tiny voice announcing itself with an unhappy moan. Sobs followed, a hitching, vocal breathing turning into a (still) quiet wail. Roy deliberately handed the child over to his adjutant.

"Mmh, hush, we can't have you crying here," Hawkeye lulled, rocking with a surprising ease, naturally fitting the child against the top of her uniform. A wee hand unfurled its chubby fingers, reaching out to grasp the heavy fabric.

It was impossible to see the face, eye or hair colour with the terry cloth wrapped around closely.

Havoc found his feet to be operating by themselves, following the two – now three – into the connected, these days empty private office of the General. He closed the door behind them when the wail picked back up. It was incredible what an organ such a small being already possessed.

"I see you've been busy," he caught himself, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His tongue darted out to feel where he now missed the cigarette on his lips. His eyes followed as Riza paced up and down, the whining coming in a softer staccato. "So that's what you've been doing all this time," his eyes gained a spark. "Although… six months doesn't quite cut it – is that the reason you left so suddenly?" he raised a single brow at Roy. The latter did not even direct a scowl at him, watching his aide try her best to pacify the upset bundle.

"Don't even go there; we found it on the street and need to find its parents," he returned courtly. Havoc nodded. Somehow, that sounded exactly like them – making someone- everyone else's problems their own.

That understanding vanished when Riza announced to be trying to calm the baby, leaving for the side door of the office – the personal archive. Havoc blinked repeatedly, not because she was going to find a more secluded, quieter place, but because she had rucked the child up against herself to free her other hand. With that, she unbuttoned her military uniform.

Havoc's eyes widened further when he saw her tug at the hem of her turtleneck to free it from the trousers, just before the closed the door behind herself with one foot. She must have already forgotten the onlooker, urgency rising alongside the volume of the cries.

"Found it on the street, eh?" Havoc had not yet turned to Roy, eyes unable to shrink where they fixated the shut door. The crying had stopped. There was no hiding it now.

"We did, I wasn't lying," Roy huffed between gritted teeth, then mumbled, "ours is much younger…" Havoc choked on his gasp, then on his spit when trying to swallow. Coughing repeatedly, he gripped Roy's shoulder to support himself for a moment. When he managed to straighten again, Roy shrugged him off.

"You have a-"

"Shh!" Roy slapped him hard on his arm. "Shut up, will you? If she hears that I told you, we're both dead," he hissed. "We have to hurry with finding this one's parents so we can get back quickly; my mother can only do so much, and he'll be hungry soon,"

"You have a mother?" Havoc almost burst. The next punch he received left him unfazed. His expression already looked as if slapped ten times over with the amount of news he was getting. "First a kid and now this? Why didn't I know about-"

"Quiet, you idiot," Roy growled. He really seemed mostly afraid of his adjutant's wrath. Hers and the military's – that's right, Havoc remembered, the frat laws. They had been frowned upon by Fuhrer Grumman though not yet abolished or changed or whatever there could reasonably be done about them. It was easy to forget they existed with the two childhood sweethearts so established as a couple within the minds of their unit.

Roy stomped out of his office when hearing voices next door.

"Fuery," he addressed.

"Oh, General, you're back," Fuery beamed. "Welcome back, Sir-"

"I need you to broadcast a message on the radio," Roy got straight to the point. He gave out the order to ask for the baby's parents, as well as having Breda – arriving slowly, then more quickly when seeing his superior to have returned – listen to the police channel for news of anyone reporting their child as missing. Then he closed the door again. Now there was a scowl, having spotted Havoc to still be there.

"Let me bet – actually, let's make a bet," Havoc grinned. "If it's a boy, his name is Maes, right? Right?"

"Why would I make a bet about the name of my own child?" Roy rubbed his temples. Now that he did, the bags under his eyes became more striking. He appeared thinner, too.

"So then I'm right," Havoc whooped to himself. His superior officer merely gave a tired look. "You could've earned easy money entering the bet," Havoc explained, "but since you didn't…" he trailed, wiggling his brows.

The door to the archive opened. Both men looked up, one pair of eyes shining with affection, the other with curiosity. She looked flawless apart from the same dark rims beneath her lids.

"How do we proceed with the search?" Riza enquired.

"I had Fuery-"

"Sir," Breda was knocking on the door. Havoc went to open it, eyeing his superiors where they fleetly exchanged a few hushed words. Riza looked agitated. "Hey, Hawkeye," Breda smiled at her, and she returned it tiredly, gladly. "Chief, we need some more information on the kid before broadcasting – hair colour, where it was found, clothes," he enumerated. Roy sighed as if it was much more of a strain to just loosen the terry cloth, in the face of finding two specific, unknown people in all of Central.

"General, there's someone at the police station," Fuery called from his desk, holding one earphone while the other hung where he wanted to hear his superior. The group turned. "It's a woman – she's looking for her four-month-old," he explained as he listened.

"Excellent," Roy took the bundle from Riza. "You can tell them to keep her there; the kid's on his way," he declared. Then he shoved it into Breda's unoccupied arms. It almost made him jump.

"What- why me?"

"Because we have important matters to take care of," Roy excused. "Bring it there at once; take Fuery with you so one of you can drive. Have the police write the report," he strode out his office and across his team's, "we have enough to take care of," he ended, leaving – Hawkeye in tow. Havoc on their heels.

Remaining decently silent as always, she did not notify her General. It took him three hallways and a flight of stairs to notice their persecutor.

"What do you want, Havoc?" Roy grumbled. As if he did not know. Unimpressed by the harsh tone – starting to catch on to both of their restlessness being connected to their son expecting their return – Havoc followed them all the way out of Headquarters, going as far as smuggling himself into the backseat of the car. He buckled up faster than Roy could start the engine. "Get out."

"No," Havoc protested. "I wanna see him," he held on to his seatbelt like a child to a lollypop. Riza shot Roy a glare that was impossible to miss, even from the back. He returned a helpless one.

"He guessed it and I might have confirmed… vaguely," he shrunk in his seat. Her eyes blazed at him, and it looked almost as if she would kick him out had she not been fidgeting to get going. He turned the key, pulling out of the parking space.

"It was kinda obvious when you disappeared with the little howler and, well," Havoc shrugged, not least because he did not want to face her fury either, "opened your uniform," he faded out. Riza only exhaled sharply. Her fingers drummed on her knee.

Hardly fifteen minutes later, they came to a halt in the back alley of a bar. Or was it a brothel? Havoc was not sure. His superiors were, however, since while he was still frowning, they nearly rushed to the backdoor of the establishment. A young woman came to greet them in response to Roy's secret knocking rhythm.

"Thank goodness, there you are," she opened for them, momentarily eyeing Havoc before closing the door behind all three of them. "Madame's pulled out all the stops but there's only so much you can do when he starts crying," she explained. The severity of the situation only hit them when they heard it. And Havoc had thought the missing bundle at the office to have been loud.

With a volume he would have never thought possible for such a little being, Havoc's first meeting with Maes Mustang was everything but quiet. An even smaller bundle was screaming at the tops of his lungs within the arms of an older woman. The General's mother, Havoc speculated, curiosity returning to his eyes.

Hastily, Riza received her son.

"I'm sorry, I'm at my wit's end," the woman excused. Not as tired as the couple though obviously stressed, her wrinkled features eased into a warm smile the second Riza cradled her baby to herself.

"No, I'm sorry we had to leave him on such short notice," Riza apologised. Sitting down on the bed of what Havoc could not shake the feeling was a room for… particular services, Riza once again plucked out her shirt from her uniform. The jacket was already opened, he noticed, either on the way in or perhaps even in the car when he had been lost in thoughts. And when she had been twitching nervously in her seat.

To his surprise – positive surprise – Riza's nearly panicky unease flowed off her the second her baby was in her arms. She whispered to him, soothing him with her voice and scent alone to an extent where he merely sobbed and whinged breathlessly. Completely undisturbed by the presence of both her unofficial mother-in-law and unofficial – as far as Havoc knew – husband, as well as the lingering, captivated onlookers that were Havoc and the girl who had let them in, Riza let the calming bundle latch on hungrily.

Havoc felt his heart beat a tad faster. Not only the child, but the usually stoic sniper was more than lovely to watch. Lost in her task, she hummed softly, tracing a finger down the rosy cheek where it jerked with greedy suckles in the place of the previous wailing. It was as if the world had stopped, time standing still to grant them their moment of well-deserved peace. Only when Roy finally moved did Havoc realise to have held his breath.

The mattress sunk under Roy's weight. Side to side, they sat there, fondly regarding their son. He really was younger than the one they had found on the street. He had a tuft of pitch-black hair, skin pale like his parents' save for the pink of his cheeks.

Riza lifted her gaze, directly meeting Havoc's. Had he been frozen before, he was now paralyzed. She outstretched her free hand, the baby resting safely, comfortably in her other arm. The gesture surprised him, and he had to actively command his limbs to move.

Gulping, he snuck forward. In his back, both Vanessa as well as Chris Mustang smiled knowingly, exchanging with amusement twinkling glances. Havoc knelt upright in front of the bed, not daring to disrupt the tranquillity of the small family by intruding too closely.

"Hold out your finger," Riza gently said. Hesitating, he extended a hand. Taking his wrist, she guided him to her son's hand, having to tap his index finger to make it uncurl. Doing as he was told, Havoc held his breath again. The hair in the back of his neck stood on end when he brushed the supple, milky skin of podgy baby fingers. His heart skipped a beat when they grasped his own, holding on tight.

"So strong…" Havoc breathed, gaping in awe. Roy nodded proudly.

"You can help change his nappy – he's got his mother's aim; he'll hit you right in the eye," he smirked smugly. Riza gave him a look, though a soft one. Softer than anyone of the Mustang Unit had ever seen on her. They were both glowing with content, pride, and something else that was hard to describe, yet suited them too well. Havoc himself was blushing to the tips of his ears, enthralled by the newest family addition.

"What are you going to do about the frat laws?" he asked. It took him another moment to be able to tear his gaze off the vigorously drinking face. He could not wait to see the eyes, imagining big, dark orbs, full of wonder and mischief.

"First of all," Roy heaved a sigh through his tone, "you and the others can't utter a single word about Hawkeye having been at the office today – we're pretending she got injured or caught some kind of flu, fever, whatever requires a long recovery to cover up that she needs to stay home."

"Home?"

"My place," Roy explained. "I'll talk to the Further about the laws first thing tomorrow, but I really can't guess how it'll turn out," he stared straight ahead. Holding her baby in both arms again, Riza leaned her shoulder against Roy's for mute support. His hand landed on her knee, appreciatively though absently. "Worst case scenario: she'll have to quit the military," he said.

Havoc's gaze wandered back to the boy. It was going to be hard to hide this, seeing as the black hair pointed to Roy without a doubt.

"Gracia already offered her help, so we won't be running short on babysitters, only that won't be of much use with the gourmand here having to eat every two hours," Roy stroked over his son's head with exceeding care. Had Havoc told the others at the office, they would not have believed it.

"I'm afraid I can't provide that," Havoc said, his voice lowered as not to disturb whose movements were starting to slow down, "but I'll do whatever I can – just say the word," he smiled when Riza did.

Without the expected pop, Maes simply let his mother's breast glide out of his tiring mouth, head sagging back into the crook of her arm. Roy's hands were already there to cover what she could not at that moment, then returned to his son's face as if pulled on my magnets.

"I'd also be an excellent godfather, just to let you know," Havoc added, pretending to sound casual where a smirk edged onto his lips. He chuckled alongside them when Maes mumbled, cooing to answer his mother's whisper and kiss to the top of his head. He had yet to let go of Havoc's finger.

"Sorry, but those have already been picked," Roy leaned back, shoulders sinking at last. "Gracia and I have a kind of being-godparents-for-each-other's-kid thing going on, and Riza chose Fullmetal-"

"You picked Edward as godfather?!" Havoc burst, then winced when his superiors hissed at him to be quiet. Maes grumbled in his fading sleep, shuffling until he found rest where Riza turned him to face her chest again.

"Don't be ridiculous," Roy scoffed. "I was going to say, she picked Fullmetal's wife," he said.

"Two women?"

"He can always come to me for manly advice," Roy puffed out his chest.

"I think it's a little early for that," Riza gently intervened. Her voice was so tender, her gaze so loving, it was almost as hard to look away from her as from the baby itself. "For now, let's figure out how to make this work with the fraternization laws still in place," she cuddled Maes to her face, then whispered, "because there's no way we're ever letting you come to harm."