Chapter 9 - Day 149

"You what?"

"I talked to Grumman," Roy admitted. Riza wound out of his embrace, shellshocked. "Don't worry," he cringed as she began to pace, "I didn't let anything on. I made sure I sounded like the love drunken fool I am, desperate to propose." She halted briefly at the 'I am', then continued walking up and down.

"How is that not letting anything on? Why would it concern the Fuhrer if it's you asking? He'll know you wouldn't retire, which only leaves breaking the law."

"I asked for a vacation," Roy illuminated. "Like a honeymoon. How long I could afford one, seeing as I'm in charge of HQ."

"Still, it sounds too much as if you already proposed long time ago. Most couples plan their wedding for months, if not years. And the honeymoon comes afterwards."

"I made it sound very hypothetical," Roy swore. She gave him a look. "I did! He was laughing, I was laughing."

"He didn't ask for your reasons? For a name?"

"Can anyone remember the countless dates I go on? Not even Havoc is keeping track, and he fancies most of the informants I take out to dinner."

"Which isn't really in your favour, considering you'd have to date only one girl to be serious about marriage."

"Exactly!" Roy breathed a sigh of relief. He should have said that from the beginning. "It really only seemed like a joke – as if I was already sick of my new responsibilities and sought an easy way out – for fun," he added hastily when she shot him another look. Of course, he had to perform flawlessly in order to be granted anything. Their tireless success in Ishval luckily vouched for that. Additionally, it would make his request for leave a lot less serious – he was serious about his new post, evidently.

He was, however, also secretly serious about that vacation. He certainly didn't want to leave his duties to anyone else, but more than anything, he wanted to be there when their child was born.

Riza narrowed her eyes, still doubtful. At least she had ceased pacing. It made Roy nervous on behalf of the baby.

"What did he say?"

"He laughed," Roy repeated, "and then he made a joke that I could take as long as I wanted if the honeymoon took place in either Aerugo and Creta, and if I either married a leader's daughter or established a favourable relation through week-long negotiations."

"Splendid." Riza rolled her eyes. "But," she let out a small sigh, "that does sound as if he took it as a joke."

"He did," Roy assured. "He," he swallowed, "didn't take it as a joke when I asked for military-independent work within Headquarters." Riza froze. "It's the only solution," Roy bargained. It had sounded very logical in his head, and anyway, what else could they do to stay together despite the fraternisation laws? "You could work as my bodyguard – hired independently."

"How am I supposed to help you in the office if I don't work for the military? They won't exactly grant an outsider insight."

"Well." Roy wrung his hands. That was still an issue. "I've been in the job for a long time. It's not like I can't do the paperwork."

"How would I be allowed in the office with all the information being there?"

"Okay, then maybe we'll limit your position to merely my secretary. That's not a rank – it doesn't count as superior and subordinate in the traditional sense."

"Nobody would allow my presence on missions," Riza retorted. "There's no such thing as taking your secretary into the field or having her wield a weapon. They might not even let me into meetings."

"You can get a firearm licence," he lamely intervened. He had no excuses for the other issues. "Look, I know this isn't ideal and I would very much prefer if you kept your authority as a Captain. But either one of us has to step down from their post."

"Not you."

"I know," he grouched unhappily. He had to make it to the top – he was closest and it was what they had been working for their entire careers after all. There were sins to atone for; traumas to be therapised. "I wanted to, but if I asked Grumman directly to change the frat laws he'd immediately know what was going on."

"He will anyway," Riza ran both hands through her hair, "everyone will. We won't be able to hide it, even if we got married on the spot, the baby would still arrive well before nine months have passed. It's so obvious." She resumed walking up and down. Hayate watched, tail thumping uneasily.

"Which is why we need to quit your contract immediately. We'll still have lots of time to figure out how to go on afterwards."

"Three and a half months isn't all that much time, don't you think?" Her pace became rigid, voice quaking.

Roy hurried to steady her – and keep her from marching trenches into the floorboards. "Four months. You said you're at the beginning of the fifth, correct?"

"I guess…" Riza slackened once his arms were around her. She let him guide her to the couch, slumping down.

"Has it kicked yet?" He ventured with one hand towards her belly. Riza tensed slightly but didn't move away. Gently, keenly, Roy cupped the bump with his hand.

"I don't think so," she mused. "Everything feels strange. I can't properly tell if it's my own body or his."

"I'm no expert," he cautiously said, "but I believe you'd know when there was an actual kick. You can't be too far along if there wasn't any."

"If it's developing healthily," Riza cut in. Both fell silent. Roy stared at his hand for a long moment. Robotically, he slid it beneath her shirt. It was warm, the skin stretched tightly. With a hint of pressure, Roy could feel the pulsing of Riza's veins. Then a flutter. He held his breath. So did Riza. She kept her hands on the couch, as if she could absent herself from the movement that was happening in her own body.

They waited. Nothing. Roy let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself. Hayate got up, stretched and yawned noisily. He gave a short whine at their odd tension, nudging Riza's knees. It made Roy's hand move, and so he instinctively stroked it back down across Riza's navel, adding another hint of unintended pressure. Another flutter. His heart jumped into his throat. He met her huge eyes, his own saucers.

Riza mirrored his indefinitely brightening smile with an insecure one.

"I'm going to need more books," Roy thought aloud. He couldn't wait to reread the ones hidden at his place while new ones were being shipped. So many things to look forward to, so much knowledge with which he could soothe Riza's raw nerves or decipher her shifting moods.

"Or you could—" Her hand landed on his. Just the tips of her fingers, in no way brushing her own skin, Riza kept him from retreating. She glanced aside when his eyes widened. Her fingers curled away, into her palm, but Roy wasn't so easily discouraged. Bursting with energy from her attempted approach, he mellowly rubbed her belly. Oh, he wouldn't let go, she could be sure of that.

"It'll be more active once it can hear us," he said. "The sound of my voice should agitate it enough to scream and kick." Riza giggled, hiding behind her hand. Roy took that hand into his free one, peppering it with kisses. "Careful, Mrs Mustang," he smirked, "your behaviour might just tip the baby off that I'm clandestinely irresistible." He placed a long, meaningful kiss on the pad of her index finger, watching her from below lowered lids.

Riza blushed, looking elsewhere. "I'm keeping my name," she mildly nagged. "'Mrs Mustang' makes me sound forty."

"Make sure you never say such things around Madame."

"She's over forty." Riza argued, a smile rendering her defiant frown useless. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. "And she isn't married, right?"

"Right," he conceded. "But that doesn't mean she won't kill you for sort of calling her old."

"I'm scared witless."

"You should be," Roy said in a pretendedly indignant tone. "In all honesty though, I don't think she could dislike you. Everyone at the bar adores you."

"Even the clients?"

"Especially the clients," he growled.

Reassuringly, Riza ran the backs of her fingers down his cheek. "I'm all yours."

He leant into her touch, then leant in to kiss her lips. Riza momentarily forgot about their discussion or dinner when next, Roy leant down. Shuffling backwards, he bent for his head to rest where his hand had been a second ago. His ear was almost cold against the warmth her belly radiated with.

"Mhm," he hummed after a brief, overwhelmed silence, "jup. I see." He straightened. "Hungry."

"Me or the baby?"

"Both." He grinned. "Let me make you dinner."

"Absolutely not." Riza got up. Roy pouted. "If I'm quitting and can't contribute a few months of measly rent money to our house, the least I can do is cook for you."

"I told you, you're the one who—"

"Not the same thing."

"Well, yeah," he got up too, following, "it's not. You're doing so much that I can't help you with."

"Doesn't compare."

"Precisely— Okay, will we ever come to an amicable solution here?" It was his turn to give her a look. The one she returned was a thousand times more effective.

She went back to the chopping board. "If by amicable solution you mean me agreeing to your opinion, then no. No, we won't."

"Riza, it will need you more than me. At least want you more – it's always like that." He leant against the counter, arms crossed. "I get a job, you ace all the tasks. People trust me with their kid, the kid likes you more than me."

"Name one example of a child preferring me over you." She challenged. He opened his mouth, but her finger flew up. "Apart from the Elric brothers."

"But they're a perfect example!" Roy gestured helplessly. "Those two love you."

"You were their superior. You had to be tough with them." Although you sometimes overdid it, it rang in her tone.

Roy pouted. "Elicia."

"Elicia adores you."

"And yet, she prefers you," he argued. "Whenever we're both there, she plays with you."

"You can't lose."

"I'm not going to spoil her. Everyone has to learn how to lose, even in kids' games," he defended himself. The corners of Riza's mouth twitched upwards. "But even when you're not there, she asks if you won't come. She talks about you more than she does about the presents I bring her."

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that I cannot physically produce milk." He pointed at his chest. Riza's eyes followed the gesture, a single brow rising. He squished his chest together, hands positioned to hide whatever non-existent indecency might shine through. She snorted. "But seriously," he scooted closer, "no matter how much I schmooze Grumman, he will never grant me five years of absence to bring up the baby until it can go to school – you can. I can't suffer through sleepless nights as much as you because I can't feed it."

"For the first year or so."

"That's not exactly a small feat."

"We've had it worse," Riza soberly said, braising the fennel with garlic and red onion.

"We've also had it worse than paying off a house."

She didn't reply immediately. It encouraged him enough for a soft smile.

When she watched their dinner instead of adding more ingredients, he wrapped his arms around her. "I cannot wait to wake up to you every morning," he murmured. Her shoulders fell. "We'll cuddle every night, not just for a secret weekend. You can use my arm as a pillow and I'll bury my nose in your hair."

"I like them," Riza quietly admitted. "Our secret weekends."

"Would you prefer limiting cuddles to the weekends only?" He failed to hide his heartache.

Riza grunted teasingly. Shaking her head, she twisted until facing him. "I would prefer not having to have this baby," she frankly said, "but cuddling with you every day and every night all the same."

"It's only because of the baby that we get to do so."

"Well," she cupped his cheeks, "if you'd worked a little harder and made it to the top already, we might not have this problem at all."

"Hey!" Roy fumed. Riza laughed. Tugging on him, she stole a fleet kiss.

"I'm joking."

"I'm not convinced," he grumbled. She kissed him again. Roy weighed his options. "Still… not entirely convinced." She laughed again, then obliged, kissing him until they had to scrape the burnt garlic out of the pan.