Disclaimer: I don't own Hagane no Renkinjutsushi. Period. And besides, if you sued me, you wouldn't get very much...maybe a cat...o.x;
Flames will be thrown back at you by Roy, constructive criticism appreciated! n.n
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Title: Family (for jov)
Rating: PG-PG13 (Language, and suggestions, and drabblefied, laughable childbirth)
Genre: Crack/Humor (more strongly leaning towards general humor than crack, really.)
Word Count: 483 (Could've sworn it was longer than that...)
Challenge: RoyxRiza on the subject of children.
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Fuhrer Mustang could remember the exact moment when his most valued General had first come to him for a little "talk." Really, he should have seen it coming. She was a woman after all.
--
"Sir." Riza's tone was clipped as always, even though they were lovers now. "Permission to speak freely, Fuhrer, sir!"
"Permission granted, General Hawkeye, and for crying out loud we're in my private off—" that was cut off with the click of a safety. "Right, permission granted, General," the dark haired man sweatdropped slightly. "At ease. Please, have a seat."
Upon his suggestion, Riza promptly seated herself on the corner of the Fuhrer's desk that just so happened to give Roy the best view up that tiny little skirt he'd managed to get her in—only under vow that the rest of the women in the military would continue to adorn their current uniform, but it was worth it. "Roy, I've been thinking. It's time that we disclosed our marriage and started a family."
--
Roy had laughed when she'd said it then. "You want to have KIDS? That's rich, Riza, really!" He hadn't been laughing later.
Roy Mustang, esteemed Flame Alchemist, Fuhrer of the Amestris military and bedecked with more medals than should really be legal, was not prepared for becoming a real father. Sure, he'd played the father figure for Edward and Alphonse while they'd been in his care, but surely Riza knew he wasn't father material!
--
He still remembered the exact moment she'd come to him after work, tears in her eyes and a smile on that usually stern face. "I'm pregnant, Roy…we're going to have a baby…"
Once again he'd laughed. "Oh, you scared me for a second there, hon, I thought you were SERIOUS! April Fool's, right?"
He was most definitely not laughing while Riza was giving birth all over the brand new upholstery, favorite gun locked and loaded against her husband's temple with a deathgrip on his hand, cursing his very existence with every contraction. "Now, now, honey…let's not forget who wanted the baby…" –BANG!- "I mean yes, you're going to kill me because I'm a worthless stinking bastard and all this pain is my fault and GOD DAMN WILL YOU LET GO OF MY HAND I THINK YOU JUST BROKE SOMETHING!"
--
Now, the Fuhrer only wished he could go back to the glare of Riza's that meant 'Do your paperwork, NOW, Taisa, or you're sleeping on the COUCH!' Now, the glare meant diaper changing or lullabies, feeding, screaming, messy baby. Now, the glare meant HEADACHES and going to work smelling like VOMIT, DIARRHEA, and SHIT.
Roy Mustang seriously never understood just what was so great about having kids. He supposed the only good thing was once 'his daddy's arrogance' and 'his mother's sense of humor' was old enough to walk, the bullets weren't aimed mostly at HIM anymore.