#its actually already published to ao3 but its apart of a gift exchange and its anon until writers are revealed on feb 1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeminy3 · 5 years ago

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Our Winter Was Warm.

Originally written for a secret santa exchange on an FMA fandom server with my friends for Christmas 2018. Specifically for Ange, a sweetheart and lovely au/headcanon-jammer in regards to anything with Roy/Hughes/Gracia. They wanted Hyuroi fluff + Gracia, and we'd talked about Hughes wanting a 2nd child named Elias with either Gracia or trans man Roy (referenced in their fic here), so this seemed the best gift for them. Not published till now because of life shit + bonus drawings I've added.

My original summary: Secret Santa gift for Ange. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I did the fluffiest hyuroigracia I could think of - married and having a baby on Amestrian Christmas <3 16k words and yet it still doesn't feel like enough, I could write forever about them ;_; but then I'd never finish, lol. This was very self-indulgent for me. Anyone is free to read if you are into it, I put a lot of work into it, and tried to be tasteful about the pregnancy and trans stuff, hopefully it is ok! Read the Google Doc here.

Read it on AO3 here. Features: hyuroigracia poly pile, trans man Roy being pregnant, Amestrian Christmas, baby Elias arrives, lots of headcanons, mostly fluff with bits of angst. Set in a divergent 03-ish universe where Hughes lived.

---

Roy wakes from dreaming, startling a little.

The nightmares seem to have lessened lately - maybe, he's not sure - either way, at least he wakes somewhat gently this time, the horrors of his brain ebbing back into his subconscious to be forgotten, for now. They leave him to blink at his surroundings and realize that he is not there again - he is in bed, at home, safe and warm within his bedsheets.

His eyes adjust to the dim, warm light of morning streaming in through the window curtains, casting everything in a sort of glow - the cozy wooden furniture, the haphazard toiletries on the dresser, the white porcelain lamp on the nightstand beside him, with pink flowers painted across its surface. Roy takes it all in, and for a hazy moment, wonders how he even reached this point in his life.

A lot has happened this past year - over a year and a half now, actually. It's been a whirlwind of events since the scarred Ishvalan appeared, and the Elrics made their grisly discoveries. Since then, Roy has exposed a deep-seeded corruption with his own government, lead a quiet, deadly rebellion against it, and personally destroyed the monster at its heart - or at least, its strongest pawn.

He gave up his dream of Fuhrership in the process, becoming branded and cast out as a traitor to his country afterwards, but in the eyes of many, he was a hero - a real hero this time, not a monster with a hero's title. Despite occasional bouts of regret, he thinks this particular exchange was worth it - figuratively, and almost literally, conquering his own Pride and ambition for the greater good.

But what feels more poignant in this moment is his more intimate accomplishments.

With enough funds and string-pulling, Roy has fully buried both his past, and past identity. Within the past few years, he finally changed the last of his records to reflect his chosen name, cutting all ties to the lonely, miserable child he once was. And even more significantly, he's changed his body as well, with an expensive, secretive chest surgery that took great pains to arrange, endure, and recover from - all without drawing suspicion. But it was done, and Roy couldn't be happier with the results.

More surgeries were a possibility, of course, but for now Roy was content with himself - he's not looking to change anything internal quite yet anyway.

Not long after that, in the midst of the chaos of the unfolding conspiracy, he finally gained the courage - or just enough blind idiocy - to finally confess the depths of his love for his dearest, dearest friend. If it made him less of a man, or even a person of dignity, ultimately it didn't matter. To keep his heart closed to it, to hide it any longer, would have slowly destroyed him.

And unbelievably - his feelings were reciprocated. Wholeheartedly, genuinely, and for a period of time that Roy had been foolish to blind himself to. The love of his life loved him back, and nothing had made him happier than in those moments when they finally consummated the years of tension and affection between them, and promised to never again be apart.

And with the blessings of a mutual friend just as dear, and their renewed devotion to each other, they could all face the danger of the previous years together.

Roy eases out of his own thoughts as he listens to the quiet breathing of another body next to him - and he turns to see the aforementioned dear friend and dearest love, Maes Hughes, lying next to him in their bed.

To his mild surprise, Maes is also awake. His usually-slick hair now a messy, unkempt mop on his head, his bare, glasses-less green eyes squinting at him. It's unfair that he's still attractive like this.

"Mornin'," he says, smiling warmly.

Roy gives him one of his many incredulous smirks. "Awake too, huh? Why didn't you say anything?"

Maes shrugs, then reaches up with a hand to brush at Roy's hair with his fingers. "I like watching you wake up. You're cute."

"No I'm not," Roy growls, but there's no real bite to it, and he's trying and failing to bite back a smile at Maes' touch. "I'm smart, charming, suave, sometimes irresistible- but I am not cute."

"Wrong. You're adorable," Maes says matter-of-factly, and he leans forward to peck him on the forehead, as if he were a precocious little child.

Roy grumbles again, frustrated both by the gentle contact and being momentarily unable to think of another retort - instead, he decides to enact his revenge by reaching up, wrapping an arm around Maes' shoulders, and gently, but assertively, pulling their mouths together for a kiss.

Maes is the one to growl a little now, and returns the gesture with affectionate lips and tongue. He's strong and hearty beneath Roy's touch, in good health save for a few new scars across his torso, some aches and pains he'll complain about sometimes. But he's allowed to - it's not every day one faces undead, unkillable homonculi and lives to tell the tale. The same went for Roy - he has his own share of injuries, resulting in several new scars and a small limp in his step, but between the two of them things could be much worse.

Eventually they are sated with their kissing, for the moment, and the two pull away to gaze at each other warmly.

"So- how you feeling?" Maes asks.

Roy blinks at him. "About what?"

"I mean- you know, in general. Still don't feel any different?"

"Oh. Mm... I don't know," Roy murmurs, searching the ceiling with his eyes. "But I do feel a little weird in the stomach, as I think about it..."

Maes' eyebrows lift up significantly. "Oh ho- stomach, huh? I think we know what's coming, then," he says, with a maddeningly knowing tone and even more maddening smile.

Roy rolls his eyes. "Ugh- I'm really not looking forward to that."

Maes just snorts. "You signed up for it, hun."

"I know," Roy says with a deflating sigh.

"You'll be fine, darling, it's only for a few months," Maes says. "...And I promise, I'll be right there keeping the hair out of your eyes when you're barfing your guts into the toilet."

"My hero ," Roy drawls with sarcasm, snickering lightly.

Maes snorts again, then rolls forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Hey, I'm your husband now. I'm supposed to do stuff like that."

Roy smiles, but there's something wavering in his dark eyes, a bit of sadness in his tone. "Ah, Maes- if only that were true in the records..."

Maes is crestfallen for a moment, reminded that in the eyes of the Amestrian law, their recent betrothal was bare-bones at most - a loophole in the civil partnership clauses, really - and kept tightly secretive from anyone who wasn't a friend or accomplice. A proper marriage between men like themselves simply wasn't possible (yet) - much less a second marriage to give an already-taken man another partner.

But the moment passes, and Maes reaches forward and takes Roy's hands in his, considers the second ring on his finger - a brilliant silver-white band, complementing Gracia's gold one and matching Roy's own.

He intertwines their fingers, and kisses lightly at Roy's knuckles. "Someday, darling, someday. Things'll change. But even if it doesn't, as far as I'm concerned I'm yours forever, and you are mine, and I'm the luckiest man in the world to have Gracia and you both."

Roy just looks at him the whole time, looks with eyes soft with love and affection, and a smile just as warm.

- And that smile falters slightly as Maes lids his eyes and tugs his smile into another knowing smirk. "...Besides, since when did you start caring about the legality of a situation?"

Roy blinks, looking adorably bewildered as he searches the ceiling for an answer. "Er- When it involves the man I love?"

Maes' eyes crinkle, and he releases their hands to wrap an arm around Roy's shoulders and draw him in to laugh into his neck. "That's a shitty answer."

"I know," Roy says, snorting softly.

They cuddle together 'till the laughter dies down, and Maes proceeds to kiss Roy again, now along his neck and collarbones, working steadily down towards his chest. He nuzzles his face into the dip between his pectorals, presses his lips against the variety of scars there, surgical and otherwise. Roy sighs with contentment, petting at Maes' hair and squirming slightly when a ticklish area is touched.

Maes moves down further, trailing kisses until he's reached Roy's belly button, where his stomach is still flat and toned - but there's a bit more softness to it than usual, at least to Maes' senses. Which are, admittedly, fairly clouded with excitement due to recent developments.

He hums into his Roy's skin. "Mm. You feel softer already."

Roy snorts against him. "Bullshit."

Ignoring that, Maes keeps humming as he nuzzles at his stomach, his voice rising into a recognizable melody - a children's lullaby, one he often sang to Elicia when she was smaller and more frightened of the night.

Roy snorts again. "They can't hear you, you idiot- Gracia said it's barely the size of a pea by now, there's no organs yet."

"You can never start too early," Maes sing-songs, his lips tickling the skin of Roy's belly.

Roy suppresses his laughter. "Start what? Inducting them into appreciating your terrible singing voice?"

"Oh c'mon, I'm not that bad," Maes grumbles, drawing away to frown at him. "Honestly, I feel sorrier about them listening to you for the next eight months."

"Shut up," Roy laughs, and lightly shoves at Maes' shoulders to get him off him. Maes, being the larger and broader man, responds with a playful growl and a lunge, trapping Roy in a bear-hug in which he is helpless to a barrage of kisses against every part of his face. Knowing better than anyone when he's strategically out of his depth, Roy surrenders to being nothing more than a giggling mess in Maes' arms.

Suddenly there's a shuffle of footsteps, a creak of the bedroom door, and the voice of a four-year-old girl cuts through their rough-housing.

"Daddy! Stop it! You're gonna squish the baby!" Elicia cries out, a little arm stretched precariously up to the doorknob, her other arm pointing accusingly at her father.

"And Mommy says to wake up, breakfast is almost ready!" she adds, the original intent of her interruption.

Roy and Maes stare at her - then at each other - before Maes throws back his head in laughter.

"I am not squishing your other dad, honey," Maes wheezes, "I'm keeping him nice and warm, see?" He demonstrates with a much gentler version of his previous bear-hug, enveloping Roy into his warmth. Roy himself merely smiles with bemusement, and enjoys the attention.

Elicia sticks out her tongue in disgust, at both her father's blatant affections and complete disregard for her concerns. "Then put another blanket on him! If you squish my baby sister I won't ever forgive you, Daddy!"

Maes laughs again, but relents this time, releasing Roy and sitting up from their bed. "Alright, alright, honey- I'm sorry. Tell Mommy I'll be up in a minute. Does she need any help?"

"Nope! You burn things!" Elicia exclaims, hilariously irreverent, and she turns and darts back into the hallway, haphazardly closing the door behind her.

Maes rolls his eyes - "No respect, even from my own offspring," he mutters under his breath - as he rolls himself up and out of bed, and makes his way towards the dresser to prepare for the day.

He stops midway to circle around to Roy's side and give him another quick peck on the forehead. "You heard the little lady - time to get up. We've got that thing to get to, after all."

"Of course, " Roy sighs despondently, wishing he could spend another hour or so basking in the heat of Maes' body and bedsheets instead. But the day must begin eventually, and he follows Maes' example and rolls himself in the direction of the bathroom to freshen up.

---

After a quick shower, a change of clothes, and a delicious breakfast courtesy of Gracia's fine cooking, Roy returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth and apply the rest of his usual toiletries in preparation for the outing this afternoon.

He was looking forward to it - it's a clear, sunny day of the weekend, and so, members of his and Maes' former squadrons have planned a get-together on the outskirts of Central, in a park popular for such gatherings, per Havoc's recommendation. ("It's perfect for families," he'd said. "Or at least mine - my folks n' I went there all the time.")

It's far from the first time they've held such gatherings together since he and Maes retired, and it certainly won't be the last - they're opportunities for their still-military-bound colleagues to unwind from their stresses, discreet exchanges of updates and information, and of course, quality time to spend with good friends.

Roy's mind wanders as he continues his routine - he wonders what bitter complaints Riza will no doubt bring up, seeing as she’s stuck helping navigate the massive power vacuum in Central as it’s officials scramble to appoint a new Führer - when a strange feeling jerks him out of his thoughts suddenly.

There is an odd, twisting sensation in his belly - the "weird feeling" he'd mentioned to Maes earlier, but it was more intense now. Not incredibly so, but certainly more noticeable. Roy quietly ignores it for now, praying it won't get any worse as he continues with the gelling and smoothing of his hair and light application of face-powder.

But, of course, minutes later his stomach is slowly churning, definitely turning nauseous now, and Roy rolls his eyes toward the ceiling and sighs again. He's not sure what's more disappointing - that Maes was right after all, or that he'll be throwing up most of Gracia's wonderful meal.

Instead, Roy decides to prepare for the inevitable - he washes the gel out of his hair and powder off his face, lifts the toilet seat, and calls into the bedroom:

"Maes? Come here a moment - it looks like I'll need your hair-lifting services after all."

"I told you," Maes calls back.

"Just get in here."

---

An hour or so later, Roy has recovered from his nausea enough for their little family to be well on their way to the hangout - namely, through one of Gracia's odd variety of home remedies. This time it consisted of making Roy suck on a slice of lemon, claiming that its sour, citrus-filled scents and flavors were a natural counter to nausea. Despite his reservations (and intense dislike of said flavors), the remedy worked, and his stomach has settled (for now).

That still didn't stop him from complaining about it through most of the drive.

"-Still, of all the days for it to start ," he groans from the backseat. "I'll be spending the whole time refusing everyone's food and drinking nothing but fruit juice, I just know it."

Gracia, sitting next to him, has been comforting him with a hand rubbing his shoulder. "You should be fine, dear, it's been a while already... but if you start feeling queasy again, just stick to small things, like crackers. You know, nothing heavy on the stomach. Besides, if worse comes to worse, I brought more lemons."

Roy only groans again, rolling his eyes this time. "Everyone's already getting suspicious of me after quitting alcohol, cold turkey, without even an announcement - and now, nibbling on crackers and lemons for my stomach? I may as well wear a damn sign on my head."

Maes, in the driver's seat, glances back at them with a frown. "And what's so bad about that? You're gonna have to tell them eventually , Roy, it's been a month already. If you wait any longer, well-"

Roy cuts him off, anxiety filling his tone. "You know why I can't tell them yet, Maes, not until we know for sure- wait, what's that?"

He cuts himself off because at this point they've entered the park at Central's outskirts - a lovely, well-kept swathe of grass and trees within sight of its eastern river, dotted with tents, benches, playgrounds, and other recreational structures. But what's strange is that, in the distance, one can see a particular group of benches that's decorated with flower bouquets, bunches of balloons, and strings of ribbons, all in pastel colors of blue, pink and white. The people setting up these decorations, along with various food and drinks, are hard to make out at this distance - but they appear to be their friends and ex-coworkers, all in casual wear.

Maes makes a curious "Huh," sound at this, and makes another, more worried sound as they pull into a nearby parking space and see more clearly that the distant human figures are definitely their friends (Major Armstrong's massive frame is unmistakable at any distance).

"It's a party now? What's the occasion?" Roy asks out loud. "It's not a holiday today, is it?"

"Not that I know of," Gracia says. "The colors look like something for Children's Day... but that was a month ago, wasn't it?"

Maes glances nervously between his partners and the apparent celebration, chewing his lower lip. "Uh- yeah, yeah, pretty sure. I, uh- I dunno, hun."

In the meantime, Elicia, who had been spending most of the drive quietly busying herself with her favorite doll's hair and dresses in the passenger seat, has tossed it aside in favor of bouncing in her seat at the mention of a party. "Party! A party!" she cries, clapping her hands. "I wanna go! I wanna go! Can I go to the party please, mommydaddy?"

Maes shushes her with promises of yes, she will be going, right now in fact, as he carefully unclips her seatbelt and helps her out of the car as everyone else steps out.

As the family approaches the party area, sunlight glints off a pair of large glasses on the distant face of Kain Fuery, and when he notices them, he waves a greeting with an exuberant wave of his arm. Then he turns to the others and distantly calls, "Hey! Looks like the guests of honor finally arrived!"

The others turn to him, then to Roy and the Hughes', and break out into excited waves, hellos, and even a little applause. Fuery, meanwhile, jogs down the small slope between them to take Roy's hand in an enthusiastic handshake, giving him a beaming smile. "Ah - salutations and congratulations, sir! We're all very happy for you and the good news!" he exclaims.

Roy hardly has time to wonder at all this strangeness going on, for as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, he finds that he can hardly get a word in edgewise as his other former squad-mates approach him with the same boisterous congratulations.

Havoc (who Roy briefly realizes he might need to either put distance from, or ask him to put out his cigarettes around him for his health), runs up and claps a hand to his shoulder, all but shouting, "Mustang! You old so-and-so, I didn't think you had it in ya! Congrats, man!"

Breda flashes a cheeky grin from behind Havoc's shoulder. "Good luck with the new additions," he chuckles. "You'll need it."

Meanwhile Falman approaches from behind, somewhat cautiously, as he often is in social situations. But he seems nonetheless chipper as he claps quietly, saying, "Wonderful news, Colonel, congratulations." The addressing of Roy's military title was a habit he still had to break.

And bringing up the very rear was Riza, a bit hampered by her dog, Black Hayate, attempting to entrap her legs with his leash in his excitement. But she still offers a warm smile in his direction as she makes her way down the slope.

Maes' friends, consisting of Major Armstrong, Maria, Denny, and Sheska, also swarm him and Gracia with the same amount of bewildering praise and applause, and the same greetings of "congratulations" and "great news" (and Armstrong nearly crushing Maes' bones with one of his hugs, again).

All the while, little Elicia claps her hands in a mimic of Falman and intensifies her bouncing, singing "congratulations" right along with everyone else.

Between Roy's sputtering and Maes' breathlessness, Gracia was the one to finally get in the burning question - she spreads her hands, gestures in a shushing motion, and raises her voice in a tone not unlike one she'd have used in her days as a librarian.

"Hey- excuse me, everyone- what's all this about?"

At that, everyone quiets, their greetings devolving into confused noises and stares. For a moment, an awkward silence falls, but its quickly broken by a nervous, mousey Sheska. "Well, you know- you said you were, um- expecting again, with Mr. Mustang, sir," she says, addressing Maes. "At least, you told me over the phone that time. You seemed so excited, so I thought it was only fair to-"

"-Y-you what?!" Roy blurts out.

"Uh, yeah," Denny Brosh chimes in, "she told me when we were drinking last weekend, so of course, I told Maria-"

"-And since they knew, it seemed only fair to tell the Major," Maria continues;

Armstrong, smiling merrily through his mustache despite the confusion in his eyes, says "-And I was so moved by the blessed news, I simply had to tell your former squadron, Mustang sir. They seemed to know already, informing me of your behavior as of late;"

And Havoc, quirking his mouth around his cigarette, finishes with a shrug. "-So we decided to turn this hangout into an early baby shower for you guys to save you the trouble. I did say this place was great for families, after all."

If Roy could see himself in these moments, he'd be amused at how quickly the color drained from his face, then returned tenfold and turned his face and neck a bright scarlet color. By the time Havoc finishes his last sentence, he's covering his face with both hands and wishing he had his ignition gloves on hand in order to obliterate his own existence - but of course, that wouldn't be fair to his unborn child, so perhaps a better target would be his damnably excitable, loose-lipped husband.

He loosens his grip on his own face to better see said husband, who is now also sporting a deeply flushed complexion, scrubbing at his neck and avoiding eye contact with everyone except Roy himself - a mistake.

As soon as they lock eyes, Roy's shame boils over into an unbridled rage, and he brings down his hands, clenches them into fists, and proceeds to wave them erratically while shouting obscenities at Maes.

"Goddammit Maes, you goddamn big-mouthed idiot ! I told you not to say anything! Now everyone knows and we have all this bullshit when we don't even know if it'll even-!"

Maes spreads his hands in surrender and shrinks away from his incensed partner, spluttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Okay okay, I got excited and let it slip to Sheska, and maybe one or two others, but I swear that's all-"

Quickly, Gracia gets between them to play peacemaker, attempting to seize Roy by the shoulders and saying "Roy, stop, please, it's alright-"

Thankfully, the mood passes. As soon as she lays hands upon Roy, a pallor passes over his face, and he grows pale again - then he keels over and starts dry heaving, his nausea returning with a vengeance.

The others can only look on with equal parts worry and amusement as the Hughes family tends to their newest and oddest member(s) - Gracia supporting Roy as he wobbles on his feet, Maes offering apologetic hugs and forehead-kisses, and Elicia looking upon the whole scene with the most amusing look of confusion a four-year-old could wear.

Riza, having finally given up on making Hayate stop squirming and barking at all the excitement, rolls her eyes and sighs deeply behind Havoc and the others.

"I told you this was a bad idea," she grumbles.

---

But the party wasn't a bad idea after all - after the initial misunderstanding, Roy calmed down from his nausea and somewhat-violent mood swing, and everyone was readily understanding, considering his condition. The party was enjoyably smooth afterwards.

True to his fears, Roy did end up consuming mostly crackers and more lemon slices, broken up by the occasions he was brave (and hungry) enough to eat more. But he did avoid actually-heaving, so it was a victory overall.

Besides refreshments, their friends also brought gifts, ranging from congratulatory cards to supplies for the new family member - mostly diapers and cleaning supplies, safe options and arguably, the most useful. No clothes except for a pair of tiny, white-ribboned shoes from Armstrong - purchased from a clothier who has provided high-quality infant clothing to the Armstrong family for generations, he claimed - and as Roy held the tiny articles in his hands, he found himself fighting an onrush of tears at the idea of the tiny person who would be filling them someday soon; then proceeded to angrily deny the redness in his eyes, curse at his hormones, then at Maes for cooing over him and attempting to calm him with more hugs and kisses.

As evening approaches and the small party winds down, Roy finds himself pretty much spent on the social side of things. After making this known, his friends and partners courteously allow him some needed time alone, which he spends sitting at a bench slightly apart from the others, pecking at leftover food scraps, as his stomach's settled again.

"Roy," the voice of Riza says softly as she approaches, and he turns to her with a smile. Close friends since teenhood, he's never minded her presence even when his energies were spent, and he nods for her to sit beside him.

"I tied up Hayate by the tent poles," she says as she settles in. "Looks like Elicia finally tired him out." She jerks her chin towards the black-and-white-furred dog flopped on the grass near the pole he was tied to.

"And likewise for her," Roy adds with a chuckle, nodding towards a bench nearby, where a content Gracia gently rocks her daughter's exhausted form in her lap.

Riza smiles warmly at the scene. "Aw- so sweet. Hard to believe that'll be you too, months from now."

Her smile takes on a mischievous slant as she turns it back on Roy, looking at him from the corners of her eyes. "Or maybe not. You seem to have that 'motherly glow' already."

Roy scoffs loudly. "Oh, don't you start too- I get enough of that crap from Maes as it is. Besides, that's a myth anyway - your skin might change color in some areas, but it doesn't glow ."

Riza doesn't laugh much, not outwardly - but you can see it in her eyes, clear as day, if you know what to look for. Which Roy does - and it always annoys him.

"Probably, yeah," she replies. "But you do seem happier."

"I am," Roy says, pursing his lips, then bothering the bottom one with his teeth for a moment. "And, honestly... kind of terrified?"

He phrases it like an unsure question to take the edge off - he isn't sure why, he should know by know that Riza can always see through his bluffs, and always has over the years. And it's been equal parts annoying and comforting, because on the one hand, nothing gets past her, but on the other, there is no one better than her to divulge one's honest insecurities. Especially ones that he hasn't admitted to any of his other friends at this party.

So Roy can only blame his own niggling demons of anxiety for trying to mask this admission at the last moment.

Familiarly, and thankfully, Riza just looks at him, nodding. "That's understandable," she says matter-of-factly.

"I mean, I'm sure it is," Roy stammers, trying to spill himself freely in her understanding presence. "It's a lot to- you know- it's just so much . Between the pregnancy and the birth, that'll be hard enough, and not just physically. And then with everything afterwards- I mean, it's a whole person , Riza-

He takes a breath in response to a pleading look in Riza's eyes, one she often uses to silently tell him, Please, sir, try to breathe.

A little more centered, he continues. "I just- I've never done this before. And... to be honest, I never thought I would . I've never really thought of myself as a parent before. I mean- let's be honest, I haven't made the best decisions with children lately..."

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his nervous heart pounding in his chest. But Riza only nods slowly, considering him and his words.

"True enough," she says finally. "But things were different then- and those boys were an exceptional case, one that wasn't always in your control. In the end, I think they made their own decisions... I wish you wouldn't blame yourself so much for them."

Roy only sighs despondently. It's something he's heard before, from multiple people - a nice reminder, but it seemed there would always be a part of him that would blame himself for what happened to the Elric brothers (among many, many other things).

Riza meets his eyes. "Honestly, I think you'll be just fine, Roy. You've changed. You might not have noticed it, but I have."

Roy suppresses the temptation to laugh at that, since she's being sincere. "Really. How?"

Riza cocks her head slightly, searches the surrounding grass for words. "You are... kinder," she says. "More gentle, more selfless. Which only makes sense, I suppose - in giving up your ambition, you let go of some of your selfishness, in a way."

She meets his eyes again. "But I think the fact that you even agreed to this, and decided to see it through, is what really shows who you are now. The Roy that I knew only a few years ago would never do this."

At this point Roy is flushing nearly to his neck again, staring down into his lap and trying vainly to do something with his hands. "You- You flatter me too much, Lieutenant."

He can practically hear the cheeky smile in her voice. "I only speak the truth, sir."

Roy scratches idly at his neck before finally deigning to look at her again. And she is smiling, but its less cheeky than he imagined. It's equal parts sincerity and amusement, and she brings it closer as she moves to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Even if you mess up, you have not one, but two partners by your side - loving, protective, and already experienced in child-rearing. Between the three of you, the baby will want for nothing."

And now she's all sincerity, almost beaming at him. She leans further and offers him her other arm in a rare gesture, coming from her - a hug. Which Roy welcomes, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and welcoming her warmth against his. Riza isn't the sort of person to give physical affection very often, if at all, so when she does it's for something she deeply, deeply cares about.

He has to fight back an urge to cry, again - and again blames it on his rampant hormones, damn them.

"I'm proud of you," she says softly, pulling away and meeting his eyes. "After losing so much, starting from nothing- and now, you have a family."

Roy blinks away the wetness from his eyes, wipes them with one hand. "Well, so do you- I mean, you've come far as well, Riza."

And she has - she was, like him, a fellow orphan of Amestris’ constant warring. However, she was courageous enough to forge a new name for herself and her future, distancing herself from what little family she had left when they ultimately proved to be cold and uncaring. In some ways, she is far braver than him - so Roy never minces his words about her.

She brushes at her bangs with one hand, slightly flustered. "I guess so- I'm happy too, work troubles notwithstanding. I do have my work cut out for me, after everything's that's happened."

"You have support too," Roy assures her. "And mine as well, even if I can't be there leading the charge anymore. You'll be fine - both of us will."

"Here's hoping," Riza says, smiling warmly.

---

Months pass, and the blooming Spring mellows out into a lazy Summer around Central. The flowers fade, the grass dries, and Roy no longer complains of nausea - now he gripes about his weight as he slowly grows rounder.

His fairly-toned physique from years of military training had already started smoothing out since his retirement, but the pregnancy only hastens this process - at this point, he's outgrown most of his dress pants and shirts and has surrendered himself to wearing mostly loose shirts and casual short pants. Maes and Gracia have no qualms with these new developments.

Despite his anxieties, Roy's progress is smooth, according to Gracia, their books on the subject, and the specialist he's hired for this occasion - they came with high marks after overseeing his chest surgery and successfully keeping it under wraps. And if all goes well, they'll be overseeing his delivery soon.

One morning is particularly warm, and Roy trudges into the kitchen, already tired and sweating - it is entirely the worst time of year to be hormonal and gaining weight. As he opens the fridge to search its contents, he’s tempted to stay there just to bask in its cool air for a minute longer - and to look for something cold and sweet to sate his hunger.

“If you’re looking for more cookie dough, don’t bother,” Gracia’s voice pipes up from across the room, startling him slightly. “I’m not making any more.”

Roy plays off his flinching by smoothing his hair and forcing a chuckle. “Ah- I was not doing that, actually, just cooling myself off a bit,” he says, which was partly true, so it definitely wasn’t a lie. “But, uh- no cookies today, Gracia? Why?”

Gracia, making breakfast at the kitchen stove as usual, rolls her eyes at him. “Because a certain someone nibbled at the dough so much throughout the day that when I finally baked them, at least a third of it was already gone. And even after the cookies were done, someone ate so much of them there wasn’t nearly enough to last everyone for the month. Elicia was looking forward to having dessert every night instead of, you know- only two or three.”

Roy stares, gaping dumbly at her for a moment - then snaps his mouth shut into a frown, huffing softly. “Well- that wasn’t entirely my fault. If it weren’t for the baby giving me these damn cravings-”

“You’ve had a sweet tooth for as long as I can remember, Roy, don’t blame the baby for that,” Gracia tuts at him. “You’re just using them as an excuse to give up your self-control.”

“I- Well- Ugh. Fine, I’m sorry,” Roy relents, ears burning with shame at this point. Not for the first or last time, he wonders why he insists on surrounding himself with people who had a penchant for seeing through his bullshit.

Gracia laughs brightly, finishing off the last of her cooking and turning off the stove. “Don’t apologize to me,” she says smugly, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Apologize to your future self when you’re spending twelve hours in labor to deliver our child.”

Roy’s mouth drops open. “Twelve hours ?”

“That’s what happened to one of my old coworkers,” Gracia says, nodding grimly. “Too much ice cream, too small in the hips. They had to open her up to deliver her son - and no surprise, he turned in at nearly eleven pounds at birth. And his mother never did lose all the weight she gained.”

Roy swallows nervously, feeling a chill up his spine - then remembers he’s still standing in front of the open fridge. Feeling plenty cold enough, he carefully closes its doors. “That’s, uh- that’s rough.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of it,” Gracia chuckles, and she straightens and turns to pour herself some coffee from the pot on the stove. “I’ve heard so many horror stories, you wouldn’t believe it - bearing children is very difficult. A lot can go wrong, and badly.”

“So I’ve heard,” Roy mutters, recounting articles he’s glanced over in the newspapers, about mothers losing their lives in the effort to bear their children; babies born with terrible illnesses or deformities that claim their lives before they’ve even lived a year, or leave them crippled for a lifetime; countless tragedies that leave orphans, widowers, and other such suffering in their wake. To say he was anxious about his own child’s birth was an understatement.

He glances nervously at the small curve of his stomach as he moves to sit at the kitchen table, sighs harshly and runs a hand through his hair again.

Gracia hums sadly across the way, and after an awkward silence, she joins him at the table while setting down their plates of breakfast. Roy looks at it, but does not feel hungry anymore.

“I wish I could say it gets easier,” Gracia says, still crestfallen in her tone. “But then you have a newborn on your hands - totally helpless, completely dependent on you. Your whole schedule revolves around them, which usually means you’re alternating between sleeping or staying awake for two hours at a time. And that lasts for a year, at least.”

She smiles a little, plucking herself up. “But then they start getting a personality - it’s so fun, watching that develop. And then they’re walking and talking - of course, that’s the toddler years. You’ve seen some of that already.” She chuckles at this last part.

“I do,” Roy says tiredly, now recalling the evenings he’d spent babysitting a smaller, more hyperactive Elicia in the years before he married Maes. In his misguided, pining state, he probably thought he could win favor by looking after his daughter - and this partly worked, as it led to a closer friendship with Gracia, tearing down the awkward walls between them.

He bows his head and sighs again. “Ah, Gracey- if I didn’t know better, I'd wonder if all this was even worth it."

Gracia chuckles again. "Well, you are bringing a whole human being into the world. Then raising them as your own, giving them the best possible start towards their future- Of course there's going to be prices to pay for that sort of thing."

When he looks up, she’s twirling her fork at him, wearing a wry smile. "Didn't you Alchemists have a rule about that? ‘Equivalent exchange,’ right?"

She lowers the fork to rest her chin on her knuckles. "It's kinda like that - this is our version of Alchemy, in a way."

Roy stares at her for a long moment - then crumples into a long and loud fit of laughter.

"Ah, Gracey," he says as he comes down from it. "You're so much better than any Alchemist."

Gracia laughs too, at that - then suddenly leans over to peck him on his cheek. "So are you, dear."

The affection catches Roy off-guard, a bit, and he spends a few moments blinking dumbly. He opens and closes his mouth to retort, but when nothing comes to him, he grumbles, and busies himself with poking at his breakfast. "Hmph."

---

Roy still suffers the occasional mood swings as he progresses, which is normal, according to Gracia and the doctor.

But what isn't normal is how deeply, deeply low Roy's mood becomes at times - when his movements become sluggish, his appetite diminishes, and he no longer finds joy or laughter in much of anything. At his absolute worst, he spends one morning unable to get out of bed at all - and both his partners know this can't entirely be blamed on the pregnancy.

"Dear, please," Gracia says softly, kneeling by Roy's bedside, gently brushing his mussed hair out of his eyes. His plate of breakfast sits on the nearby nightstand, untouched. "You need to eat, now more than ever."

"I know," Roy mutters, but he doesn't move, still curled within his bedsheets with his face half-buried into his pillow. His eyes are red and tired from too little sleep and too many tears.

"At least a few bites, or a nibble," Maes murmurs at his other side, his form curled around Roy's own, hugging him from the back, his face nuzzling his husband's ear. "You need it. So does the baby."

"I know," Roy repeats, but again he makes no move to obey them.

"Darling," Maes kisses into his hair, "Please. Try."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut, and his breath hitches, but he says nothing and still doesn't move.

Gracia keeps gently stroking his cheek. "At least say something," she pleads. "Tell us what's wrong. We're here, we'll listen."

Roy's breathing becomes erratic for a few moments, as if pushing back a quiet sob. But eventually he settles and opens his eyes, seeming to get up the nerve to speak his mind.

He chokes out, "What... did I do... to deserve this?"

"Deserve what?" Maes asks.

"All of this," Roy says, voice watery. "You, and Elicia, and the baby- how..." He swallows, and clears his throat. "...How can I bring life into this world when I've brought nothing but death?"

Gracia and Maes exchange glances, understanding. Gracia less so, but she is very familiar with the look of helplessness that again crosses her husband's features, the look that Maes gives when he remembers that Roy went to Ishval and he did not, and he will always, always be sorry about it. That he couldn't be there to stand by Roy's side, to share in its horrors, its suffering, and all he could do ever afterwards was try to put him back together with kind words, soft smiles, slices of Gracia's homemade pies.

It wasn't enough - never enough - but it was something , and it helped.

So again, Maes blinks back his tears, then adjusts himself so he can wrap his arms around Roy's shoulders and take his hands in his own, gently intertwining their fingers and bringing them down to touch the small dome of Roy's belly.

"You saved my life, darling. Multiple times. That's not nothing," he says, kissing into the crook of Roy's neck. "You've saved all of us - our friends, our family, even the whole nation."

Roy squeezes his eyes closed again. "But, Edward-"

"That wasn't your fault, dear," Gracia interrupts, her hand joining Maes' and Roy's. "Whatever happened down there, that was his battle, not yours. He's strong - wherever he is, I'm sure he's doing just fine."

"Yeah," Maes agrees. "We have to believe that... He'd hate for us to worry over him anyway. You know him," he adds, forcing a chuckle.

Roy sighs, but he nestles a little within Maes' hold. "Mm. I wish I could... Believe, that is. In anything."

"...What about our child?" Maes asks, his hand at Roy's stomach rubbing gently. "You can believe in them. They'll be here soon, after all."

Roy's eyes lose focus, and he exhales again. "Ah, even then- I'm still... scared they might not."

Gracia starts, her face pinching with worry. "Dear, please, don't even think of it. You're doing so well, even more than the doctor predicted- please, don't risk it all by worrying needlessly. Don't-"

She takes a breath, bows her head slightly. "Don't be like me."

Maes makes a strained sound. "Honey-"

"It's fine." Gracia flashes a small smile in Maes' direction, then turns it toward Roy, who still stares out at nothing in particular.

"Roy," she says. "You remember before I had Elicia, don't you?"

"Mm." Roy makes a noncommittal noise. He must remember those times, but he makes no effort to make it obvious, so Gracia sighs and decides to remind him.

"We miscarried so much," she continues, exchanging soft glances with Maes. "The doctors never could find out what was wrong with me. It was awful - and neither of us breathed a word to anyone, we were so ashamed. At least, I was."

She squeezes Roy's hand in her own. "We only told you after you found me crying after dinner, that day. I thought I was broken, and worthless, and all these terrible things - and that only made it worse. I was my own self-fulfilling prophecy."

She bows her head and leans in, planting a kiss on Roy's knuckles, near his stomach. When she looks up again, his eyes are looking intently at her, soft with pain and sympathy. He does remember.

"Without you and Maes, Elicia wouldn't even be here," Gracia says. "And she'll always be my little miracle, but I can't put myself through that again. You'll never know how truly, truly grateful I am for you doing this for us, Roy. For our family."

When she meets Roy's eyes again, they're wet with tears on the verge of spilling. This time she leans over to kiss his cheek, and wipes away the wetness with her thumb.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," Maes says behind him. "All of us are. Even Elicia - she's so ready to be a big sister. It's kind of funny, actually - she acts like she'll be ten years older instead of four."

"God, she does," Gracia says, chuckling softly. "All she talks about lately is all the toys and clothes she's going to share with her 'little sister,' and all the food she's going to make for her. She keeps asking me to show her how to cook dinner now - and she can't even reach the stovetop without standing on a chair."

Maes snorts with laughter. "God, that's adorable - how is she doing by the way, cooking-wise?"

Gracia levels a knowing smirk at him. "Well, she's a step up from you, Mister Water-Burner."

"Oh, ouch- ouch . You're so cruel, honey," Maes whines, feigning hurt.

Gracia laughs harder now, shaking her head. "Cruel? I've been trying to show you how to cook for years , but when you're not making jokes out of everything, you're turning it into something not even dogs would eat. It's pretty sad when a toddler's a better student than you."

Maes laughs, hard, dropping his forehead against Roy's back until he composes himself. "Oh Gracey, you're so mean ," he drawls out. "That's it, I'm only sleeping with Roy from now on. He wouldn't make hurtful jokes about his poor husband's cooking skills. Isn't that right, darling?"

Roy doesn't appear to respond for a moment - but listening carefully, one can hear erratic breaths and a slight shifting of fabric, and his shoulders and chest tremble within the blankets and Maes' arms. But there are no tears - Roy is quietly snorting into his pillow and suppressing soft laughter.

"Hey- are you laughing ?" Maes exclaims. Roy tenses within his grip, now squeezing his eyes to suppress a grin threatening to break out on his face.

"You're laughing, aren't you. I can't believe this. Both my wife and husband, laughing at my expense," Maes says, withering into laughter. Gracia does the same, and Roy's resolve crumbles, and it isn't long before all three of them have devolved into a shared laughing fit.

The mood was lighter, and it was warmly welcomed.

And later on, after more lighthearted conversation and gentle encouragement, Roy's depression lightened to the point he could sit up and eat a slice of toast and spoonfuls of porridge without much issue. He still stayed in bed most of the day, and only ate a bit more as it went on, but by the evening his body's needs began to outweigh his lack of appetite and he ate ravenously of his dinner, and he could sleep soundly through most of the night.

He improved slowly - at least, his mood didn't often dip into such a low point after that, but when it did, Maes and Gracia were once again there to hold him and remind him how much he was loved, and loved others in turn.

...Or to make more jokes at Maes' expense. Those helped too.

---

Fall is here; the greens and yellows of Summer have faded into shades of red, gold and brown, the leaves of trees darken and cover the ground, and the air grows colder.

Roy's moods have improved, along with his health, and now his child's movements can be felt within him. At first, it was strange and exciting - there are few words he can find to express how simultaneously incredible and incredibly weird it is to feel a tiny person moving around inside him.

By now, the novelty has worn off - Roy could swear that the child shifts only in ways to spite him, pressing up into his lungs when he's trying to eat, or down onto his bladder when he lays down for the night, and he ends up struggling against his own unwieldy body to get up and use the bathroom for the umpteenth time. Or, usually, they just kick him constantly. At this point he's welcomed Maes' attempts to sing lullabies to their unborn child to soothe them. It actually seems to work, sometimes.

Between all this, even more egregious weight issues, and his ever-rounder appearance, no one blames him for his complaining now. Maes and Gracia offer as much comfort as they can, like taking turns offering him massages every evening, especially for his sore feet.

At least one positive is that the colder weather means he can sequester himself in large, billowing sweaters and pants, offering much in comfort and hiding his un-flattering figure.

Elicia, however, delights in these developments, as it proves that the reality of her becoming a big sister is drawing ever closer. She often puts her hands to Roy's stomach to feel its movements, and keeps asking him and everyone else when the baby will arrive.

One morning, Gracia, after making some calculations, says the delivery should occur right in the middle of winter - "Right around the Winter Solstice, actually," she says, jabbing her pen at the day marked on the kitchen's calendar. "Could even be the day of- that'll be interesting," she chuckles.

Maes scratches at his chin. "Well- shit. We'll be with your folks all week to celebrate... We really should have planned this better, hun," he says, directing this last statement at Roy.

Roy, seated at a nearby table with his chin balanced on one hand, rolls his eyes at his husband. "Don't look at me- You're the one who decided knocking me up in Spring instead of Winter was a good idea. It's usually the other way around, you know."

Maes turns several shades of scarlet at this and starts spluttering. "I- Well- Y-you agreed to it!"

"I did," Roy sighs long-sufferingly, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair to ease his sore back a little.

Gracia giggles at the two of them. "Oh well," she says. "It's fine, really. I'd rather it happen with more people around anyway. Feels safer."

"True, but- what're we gonna do for the kid's birthdays?" Maes wonders aloud. "They're going to live the rest of their life being forgotten. I had a coworker like that, y'know- poor girl was born on Couples' Day, so people either didn't believe her, or treated all the cheap chocolates as her birthday presents. Terrible."

"Yes, the poor thing," Gracia says, shaking her head. "But I think this is different - city-folk don't really celebrate the Solstices anymore, so maybe they'll end up getting birthday presents from their city friends, and Yule presents from the family."

Maes rolls his eyes. "So they'll be spoiled rotten instead. Great."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Roy says, grinning.

"You be quiet," Maes tuts at him. "I thought you were an orphan , you hypocrite. Don't you want our child to appreciate things?"

"Of course I do," Roy says, patting his stomach with an air of pride. "They're going to appreciate getting lots of money and free things every year."

Maes sighs, shaking his head. "Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

Gracia just laughs harder.

---

Weeks later, and it is only a few days before the Winter Solstice - or Yule Time, as some people still call it, like Gracia’s family.

Roy is due any day now - and at this point he's more or less numb to the constant dysphoria, anxiety, and dozens of other unpleasant symptoms. He is very heavy, very grumpy, and just wants his child to be born so he can finally hold them in his arms and be done with this.

The family does their best to make him comfortable in these final days - which now includes Gracia's kind-hearted parents and their siblings, as they are now rooming in their family home for the holiday.

The house isn't massive, or terribly luxurious, but true to Gracia's family, it is the very picture of coziness: old rugs and paintings adorn the walls and floors, wood and earthen furniture throughout, and large, worn sofas with plenty of throw pillows and blankets.

It’s a proper abode for generations of a country-born family staying true to its roots, constructed by a patriarch of Gracia's forefathers. This is most evident in the Yule decorations that now adorn everything - the front of the house wears wreathes of pine needles and sprigs of holly on its doorways, tied together with ribbons of red, green and gold. Within the house proper are various bells, knick-knacks and decorations on the walls and furniture, wicker baskets filled with candies in the kitchen, and all sorts of pleasantly-scented candles throughout.

Everything is concentrated in the main parlor, where a small evergreen tree stands proudly in its corner, covered in the highest concentration of these decorations. More baubles, ribbons and bells; dolls and figurines made of fabric and clay; preserved pinecones, berries and flowers; garlands of tinsel and colored beads. And it's all topped off with a hand-worked, golden metal star at its tip, allegedly made by a grand-relative skilled in metalworking. It’s construction is somewhat rough, even at a glance, and makes the part of Roy that was still a haughty State Alchemist wonder why the family didn’t hire one to make the star with a much more efficient metal transmutation - the rest of him chastises himself for being so shallow. He is deeply privileged to now be a part of such a family, rich in its history and heirlooms.

Beneath the tree's branches and surrounding the large pot holding its trunk, is a pile of wrapped presents, glimmering with shiny colored paper and bows. It captures the fascination of child and grown-up alike - mostly the children. Some of the more excitable ones, like Elicia, need to be kept under close watch to ensure they don't open them ahead of time. Roy feels grateful that his child is not yet among them.

And yet, for Roy, this place inspires a strange mix of both homeliness and alienation in him - the first and last time he was here was over four years ago, on the Solstice that followed Maes and Gracia's wedding.

It was a bittersweet occasion for him, marked with equal amounts of happiness and heartache because of still-buried feelings for Maes. In the presence of his friend's family, and that of his new wife, he felt like an intruder with no business being there; his attempts at socializing were cold and aloof when he wasn't drowning his feelings with rum and hard nog. Between his awkwardness and the chaos of the past few years, he'd politely declined further invitations back here.

But things are different now. He is different - it's just as Riza said all those months ago. Roy feels more relaxed, less caged within his own defensive walls, and has been having an easier time opening up to everyone - and in turn, others open up more to him. Of course, it helps that his partnership to Maes and Gracia now makes him a more proper member of the family, but even without that difference, the overwhelmingly warm vibes here suggests they would have welcomed him just the same, even all those years ago.

(Being very heavy with child also helps - he's too exhausted to put up many walls to begin with, gets plenty of sympathy and attention from just about everyone, and can't retreat back into a bottle even if he wanted to.)

Right now, sitting with Gracia's mother and father in the parlor, wrapped in conversation, he is the very picture of comfort: wearing the loosest sweatpants and the biggest, puffiest, Yule-colored sweater Gracia could find for him, covered in large throw blankets, and sipping from a mug of warm chocolate milk in his hands.

His only source of discomfort is of course, his unborn child, who still shifts constantly - there's also an occasional, somewhat-painful pressure inside him that comes and goes, but Gracia says these 'fake' contractions are common at this stage, so he does his best to ignore it.

Sebastian, Gracia's father, leans from the sofa with his elbows on his knees, recounting tales from his past as a war journalist, when times were simpler, and war was as well. His talk of the old-fashioned photography and recording equipment they used back then would be of endless fascination to Fuery. For Roy, he appreciates the wartime experiences, and can share his own to a sympathetic ear.

Gabriella, Gracia's mother with a history as a nurse, is more concerned with baby-talk: both embarrassing stories of Gracia's early childhood, and concerns about Roy's health and that of their new step-grandchild.

“-And that’s why Amestris never tried to push its borders eastward, and thank God for that,” Sebastian is saying. “We already have our hands full with the North.”

“You can say that again,” Roy groans, recounting the almost-war with said country not long ago. It’s still a wonder that his efforts dissipated the conflict, even if it’s merely boiled down into a cold war now. “Anyway,” he continues, not wanting to dwell on the subject, “This eastern desert - what’s beyond it?”

“Eastern countries, and then the ocean, I presume,” Sebastian replies, idly scratching his beard. “They say Xing is over there too, but who knows, no one’s heard from them in decades. Probably for good reason, knowing us.”

“True,” Roy hums sadly.

“It had a name too, that desert,” Seb continues, searching the ceiling for a memory. “And a weird one - something like... Silk-sees? Serk-sees? Or was it more of a "z" sound..."

Gabriella interrupts him, one of many times already. "We get it dear, the name was weird. Say, Roy, have you all picked out a name for the baby yet?"

Roy, slightly awkward but becoming familiar with these rapid changes in subject, stutters in response. "Ah- we do, actually-"

"C'mon Gabby, what d'you take us for?" Maes cuts him off, balking. "Of course we've got names picked out. If it's a boy, Elias. If it's a girl, Eleanor. Easy."

Gabriella laughs, shaking her bobbed hair. "Easy, huh?" she teases, "Sure it's easy, when it's more "el" names. Couldn't think of anything else?"

Maes blanches at her, sputtering again. "Hey- they're nice names! It'll be cute when they match with Elicia! Gracey likes it too!"

Gracia was giggling softly. "C'mon Mom, it's Yule Time. Lay off the teasing a little, yeah?"

"Aw- But it's so easy ," Gabriella says, smirking mischievously.

Sebastian, rolling his eyes at most of the exchange, turns back to Roy. "You're the one actually having the child - did you have any names in mind, Roy?"

Roy shrugs at him, pursing his lips. "Honestly? Not really. Naming things isn't really my strong suit."

"You could've asked me," Riza suddenly pipes up, leaning above them on the sofa with her elbows on the head-cushions - she's here early on in the week to help with party preparations.

"I would have suggested some good names," she says, pouting slightly.

Roy cocks his head to look at her, giving her a stink-eye. "You named yourself after a bird of prey and your dog after a violent weather pattern. Forgive me if I don't exactly trust your particular taste in names, Lieutenant."

Riza rolls her eyes. "Fair enough."

---

Another difference this year is the absence of Maes' family members - aside from one of his nicer cousins, none of the Hughes are here. There were a few phone calls giving well-wishes and happy-new-years a few weeks ago, but other than that, it's been radio silence from them.

It's fair to assume that this was foretold by a letter they received about a month prior - one that Maes frowned down at and said, "Hm. It's from my parents."

They had not heard from his parents, or most of his relatives, since Roy and Maes announced their retirement from the military and their romantic partnership thereafter (which didn't go into detail, but the fact that Roy had permanently moved into Maes' and Gracia's home should've been enough of a tip-off).

The letter spent the majority of that day laying on the kitchen counter, untouched - only towards the evening, after Gracia had retired to put Elicia to bed, did Maes finally open it.

Roy didn't get a chance to see its contents, but did witness Maes' expression darken considerably as he read it, and heard him mutter something about "lifestyle choices" and "unsightly partners" under his breath with intense disdain.

"Maes?" he'd asked him, out of concern, but his husband only spared him a glance before briskly turning and walking back into his office. Roy followed him, cautiously- and peered into the room soon enough to see him crumpling the letter into his fist, raising it to throw it into his trash can.

"Maes," he said again, softer this time. Maes lowered his arm, and turned to look at him fully - and Roy could more clearly see how his eyes burned with something cold and bitter.

Maes let out a long, angry breath through his nose, and a beat passed. "...You're lucky, in a way," he finally said. "You lost your parents before you got to know who they really were."

"Mm," Roy hummed, starting to understand this now.

Maes turned away, sighing again. "You never had to grow up and realize that you've been living with a pair of hypocrites all your life. Talking all the time about how much they loved you, how much they cared - but when you needed a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen, they pushed you away, told you to suck it up. Nothing you did was ever enough for them."

He unfurled the crumpled letter, stared at it. "I did everything they expected of me - I got good grades, I joined sports teams, I even got a girl and settled down. And I worked hard - I reached Major without ever even touching an Alchemy textbook, Roy, you know how much I busted my ass for that. And you know what they said to me? When I showed them my credentials? 'Oh, that's nice, but your cousin's a lawyer and makes even more money than that. Don't you think you could do better, dear?'" He mimicked a flighty, nasally voice, probably mocking his mother.

"And now, after all this time, they send me this shit- " And Maes slammed the letter onto his desk, violently, causing a whipping sound of paper-on-wood that made Roy flinch, but the suddenness of the act was what really made him shrink away - he rarely saw Maes so angry like this.

Maes, meanwhile, seemed to snap out of whatever rage-like stupor he was in once he realized Roy was frightened - he blinked, then started toward Roy and wrapped him up in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing Roy's hair. "I'm just- I'm so tired. The things they said about you..."

He took a breath, then drew away, giving Roy weak smile. "But it's fine. They're not coming to Yule with us anymore - and good riddance."

"They're not?" Roy wondered at him, recalling the very few times he'd seen Maes' family - who seemed like fairly well-off people of the upper middle-class, decent folk, if a bit stilted in their mannerisms. Maes never seemed comfortable around them, and he rarely spoke of them in all their time together - it seemed there'd been good reason for that.

"No, they aren't," Maes said, kissing at Roy's forehead again. "And you know what? I'm fucking relieved . This could actually be the best Solstice I've ever had, because for once I don't have to pretend that I'm happy around anyone."

He lowered his hands to Roy's stomach, looked at him softly. "Because I am. With both of you."

Roy had felt his eyes watering, at once heartbroken and brimming with joy for his dear husband, and he returned his affections with a long, tender kiss and embrace.

When they drew away, Maes asked him one last thing. "Roy- just do me a favor, okay?"

"Anything," Roy said.

"Keep me honest," Maes said, his expression soft, open, painfully vulnerable. "When I tell the kids I love them, make sure I mean it."

"Aw, Maes," Roy said, resting his head against Maes' chest. "Don't worry. You already do."

When Gracia heard the news later, she readily agreed with both ideas - good riddance to Hughes' family, and "Goodness' sakes, Maes, if you were any more earnest about your children, even I couldn't stand you."

---

The absence of Maes' family was not long missed - in their place are select members of Roy and Maes' former squadrons this year. They're a welcome presence in the house, and a great help with the preparations. Gracia's parents welcome them warmly - and are in agreement that Maes' family are better off gone, after hearing the news.

Some, like Armstrong, Maria, Fuery and Havoc, will only be here for several hours of Yule's Eve, planning to spend the holiday proper with their families; those without much of a family to go back to, like Riza, Breda and Falman, are here for the entire week; and those who are absent entirely are spending the extra time with loved ones who need it, which are Denny with his many younger siblings, and Sheska, who is staying with the Rockbells to offer her support.

Sheska even sent a letter in advance, and when an evening wound down and allowed time to spend on it, Maes reads it aloud to Gracia and Roy in the parlor:

A wonderful Solstice to you and your families, Mr. Hughes, Gracia, and everyone else. Special regards to Mustang and the new baby, I hope everything goes well. Miss Winry and her grandmother need all the help they can get after everything that's happened - you know, with Alphonse and that homonculus boy - I think they're all in need of a good Solstice. Rose and Paninya are here as well, and they send their regards. Miss Winry does too, and sends congratulations for the new baby to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.

Maes frowns a little after reading the last line. "Nothing for the man actually giving us the baby," he mutters under his breath.

"Honey," Gracia whispers, catching his attention to shake her head at him. He looks at her, seated at his side on the couch, then looks to his other side, where Roy lays curled within his throw blankets against the armrest. He stares out at nothing, seeming to be in a low mood again, and Maes isn't sure if it's from the day wearing him out or his comment on the letter.

Maes lowers his eyes. "Sorry," he says.

Roy glances at him, then away, and just shrugs. "It's fine," he says distantly. "It's what I expected from her."

He's not talking about Sheska.

---

Days later, and it is finally Yule's Eve. The merriment in the household only grows as Fuery, Havoc, Maria and Armstrong arrive to partake in the festivities.

True to Roy's prediction, Fuery spends most of the evening deep in conversation with Sebastian about the technical wizardry of years past; Havoc enjoys playing Big Brother with Elicia and her little cousins; Maria aids in the last of the holiday dinner preparations, to the appreciation of Gabriella and her sisters.

Armstrong, meanwhile, does what he does best - being himself, as grand and boisterously as possible.

Early on, when his loud greetings rang out through the house and his massive frame approached Roy and Maes in the living room, a look of real, genuine terror flashed across Maes' face for a moment - and within the next moment, he'd whipped out a protective arm in front of Roy.

He said quickly, "M-Major! I would ask that you, uh- refrain from your usual form of affections, seeing Roy's current condition-"

Roy attempted to protest at the same time. "Wh- for goodness' sake Maes, I'm not made of glass -"

But both were drowned out by Armstrong's bellowing laughter. "Ah, please, no need to worry, sir! I wouldn't dream of laying hands upon your husband in such a state. I merely wished to extend my congratulations again - and a humble offer, if you do not mind."

He extended a massive hand forward, which Roy took, surprised at the man's gentleness in his grip, for once - at the same time he asks, "An offer, Major? What kind?"

Armstrong nods, and after exchanging less-gentle handshakes with Maes, replies, "In regards to your coming child, sirs - I've heard they will arrive very shortly! If you have need, the Armstrong family midwife and her assistants are eager and ready to help at a moment’s notice! They come highly recommended, believe me-"

He starts into what will no doubt be a tirade about the many good qualities of this midwife and her team, and how they assisted in bringing multiple generations of Armstrongs into existence, but Roy hurriedly gives him a polite shushing gesture and cuts him off.

"Ah- I'm sure she is, Major but uh- we have the midwife thing covered already, don't worry."

Armstrong stuttered mid-sentence, stared in confusion. "Ah- Oh. By whom, if I may ask?"

This would be answered just later that evening.

---

And sure enough, there is one last guest who has arrived fashionably late to the house - one that Roy has waited for anxiously.

When the doorbell rings and an all-too-familiar voice is heard across the living room, he lights up brighter than any flame could produce, and grunts his way to his feet to meet them at the door personally.

Shuffling in through the doorway, in a flurry of winter fur coats and bags, is a somewhat-portly woman of middle age, dark-haired and dark-eyed, well-dressed and made-up, with a beauty mark on one cheek. This woman is known to most as Madame Christmas, the owner of a once-prolific bar-and-brothel in East City; In reality, she is Chris Mustang, Roy’s aunt and foster mother.

She is the only living relative of his family, having survived either by miracle or her own wit; she took him in and raised him as her own, bringing him out of the orphanages and under her wing, in honor of her brother and sister-in-law; she and her girls gave him the ideal home and family to rediscover himself in the wake of losing of his parents; and they have taught him everything he knows about secrecy, subterfuge, and weaponizing one’s charms into a fine, precise point.

Her knowledge spans a grand swathe of subjects that most people would call “unsavory,” but among her clientele and employees, they are nothing less than essential. Among her skills is several years of experience in midwifery, and ensured that Roy’s mother had a safe, successful delivery on the day of his birth - she has, quite literally, known him for his whole life - so it is only appropriate for her to do the same for Roy and his own child all these years later.

In short, he would be nothing without her, so Roy he gives her the best hug he can muster, despite his large stomach getting in the way. But she squeezes back with just as much affection, even as she draws away with a sarcastic frown on her face as she looks upon him. Her first words to him are, "My goodness, Roy, you're huge ."

Roy snorts, then breaks down into a fit of giggles. Maes and Gracia laugh their way to the doorway to also greet Chris, along with several women that are both her fellow charges, and Roy’s adoptive sisters.

They’re equally surprised and delighted at Roy’s condition. “Oh my! You all must be so excited;” “Wow, you weren’t kidding, you look ready to pop!”; “Roy dear, you should really sit down…”

“She’s right, darling,” Chris says, agreeing with the last one. “You didn’t tell me you were this close! Goodness, didn’t I teach you any sense? Sit down, sit down, before you throw your back out…”

Roy, still laughing, lets himself be lead away and back to the sofa. “You did, Auntie, you did- It’s just- ah, it’s been too long. I missed you.”

And he means it - Chris and the girls were a constant well of support for him until recently, as when the string of serial killings and conspiracies started up a few years ago, Roy was quick to call her up and advise her to leave the country for their safety. Chris begrudgingly obeyed, moving out westward and re-establishing herself there as best she could. Now that things are relatively settled (finally) and changing for the better, she’s recently moved back to Amestris - just in time to spend their first, proper Solstice together.

“Hmph! Then you could have called or written me more often, you sap,” Chris retorts, but there’s rarely any bite to her banter.

“Calls don’t go out to Creta,” Roy says as he settles back into the sofa. “And I wrote you as often as I could, Auntie. It was, ah- pretty crazy for a while there. I’m sorry I didn’t write more.”

“I’ll say,” Chris says, rolling her eyes. “The Cretan newspapers were having field days with it. I almost started getting worried about you - then I heard you blew up the Führer.”

Roy laughs again. “I did, I did. That was… ah, man. There’s so much to tell you, Auntie.”

Chris smiles at him - a real, genuine smile - and takes his hand, gently, something she hasn’t done in a long time.

“Well, I’m here now, darling. Tell me all about it.”

---

And talk they did, for many hours - between introductions to Gracia’s family and Roy and Maes’ squadron members, the details of the past few years’ adventures, and plenty of embarrassing stories of Roy’s childhood, there was no shortage of conversation.

Soon enough, it is near-midnight - Armstrong, Fuery, Havoc and Maria bid their farewells and left long ago, the children have been put to bed, and most of Gracia’s family have retired for the night as well. Only Roy’s little family (minus Elicia) is still awake, bleary and yawning as they curl up together on the parlor sofa, still exchanging stories.

Chris, slightly buzzed from the wine, is still deep into the ‘embarrassing stories of Roy’s past’ part of their conversations. “I always knew you’d tie the knot with Maes someday, always knew,” she’s saying, side-hugging her adopted son and admiring the silver ring on his and Maes’ fingers. “It was just a matter of time - for you to get up your nerve, of course.”

“Oh, c’mon ,” Roy whines, suppressing a yawn at the same time. “I wasn’t nearly that bad. And you know there were other reasons I was hesitant.”

“I know, darling- but it’s still funny,” Chris says, smirking.

“Was he, now?” Maes says, grinning wolfishly. “I have an idea of how long you hid it from me, but I’m dying to hear your side of it, Ms. Mustang.”

“ Maes- ” Roy starts, but Chris leaps upon the chance before he can protest it.

“Oh, it was practically star-crossed ,” she waxes. “There were sparks from the moment you first met. He’d talk about you all the time when he called me from the Academy - as in, how much he hated you.”

Roy groans, and Maes throws back his head in laughter. “Ah, man- that checks out,” Maes wheezes. “I was a pretty big asshole back then.”

“ Was ,” Roy drawls sarcastically, earning him a playful jab in the shoulder from his husband.

“Shut up, I’m better now!”

“Debatable,” Gracia murmurs sleepily from the other end of the sofa.

“Don’t you two start again-”

“You three are adorable ,” Chris laughs. “I’ll admit, I was worried when you and Gracia hooked up and poor Roy was left out- but I’m glad it’s worked out now.”

Maes’ laughter grew uncomfortable. “Ah, well, I- I didn’t know. Or I wouldn’t open myself to it, I guess. I just- didn’t think it was an option at first, you know?”

“I know, dear,” Chris says. “I’m sure your family didn’t help there. We’ve all had our run-ins with conservatives - my brother probably would have balked at the idea if he were still here, rest his soul.”

“My father,” Roy muses at the mention. “Do you think… would he have accepted me, Auntie?” He asks with genuine curiosity, only tinged with sadness at its edges. Chris frowns, and thinks, and hugs Roy more closely.

“With time, darling, with time,” she says finally. “He was still a good man. And people change, they always do.”

“Yeah, we changed,” Maes says, after pecking Roy’s cheek with affection. “We went from hating each other’s guts to this . Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, Roy hums, growing quiet as he feels another pang from a fake contraction creeping upon him - he’s been dealing with them on and off all day, but they feel more intense than earlier in the week...

“And say, I wanted to ask,” Maes continues. “If you liked me for that long, why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I’m sure Ishval had to do with it, but-”

“That is part of it,” Roy murmurs. “But- hm. It’s uh, hard to explain,” he trails off, suppressing a grunt of pain.

Chris eyes him for a moment, then takes over in his explanation. “You see, Roy was in a very… tenuous place in his life, you could say. When he started attending the Academy, he’d only recently changed his name and started his medications, as I recall.”

She exchanges glances with Roy, who nods to confirm this.

“-Oh,” Maes says. “So you were still… in-between, kind of?”

“In a sense, yes,” Chris replies. “Physically and emotionally. Very insecure, very frightened, poor thing. He’d call me many times to talk about how scared he was of anyone finding out about his ‘secret’. And we all know how the military tends to treat people who are… different .” She says the word with a disgusted sneer.

Maes hums, nodding. “Yeah, yeah… didn’t want to get too close to anyone, then.”

“That, and he couldn’t allow himself to,” Chris continues. “Opening up his heart to anyone would risk his career, maybe his life, but most of all, it would’ve betrayed everything he was building up about himself. Admitting to being in love with you, a man , would’ve made him no different than the young lady he once resembled.”

She shrugs, frowning slightly. “...That was misguided, obviously, but like I said, he was young and insecure. And, obviously, Ishval didn’t help with that.”

Maes nods slowly, frowning. “Mm. I see.”

He looks back to Roy, seeing something pained in his husband’s face, and huddles closer to wrap his arms around his shoulders and press his face into his dark hair. “But I wish I could… y’know, really understand, completely. So I can be better for you,” he murmurs softly.

Roy snuggles against him, his warmth a small balm for his pain, both from his stomach and the memories. “That’s okay,” he whispers. “Just trying helps. Just being here, for me- that helps.”

He feels another pang, more acute this time, and can’t quite suppress a groan from it. Chris sits up at his other side. “Darling, what’s wrong? Are you-”

“False alarms, Auntie, false alarms,” Roy says hurriedly, a little strained. “It’ll pass in a minute-”

“Roy, you’re due at any moment , Gracia says, now sounding more awake. “Those might not be false anymore.”

“Hey hey, easy now,” Maes says, supporting Roy against him. “I know I kept joking about the baby being the best Yule present, but I wasn’t serious- ”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Roy cuts in, leaning away, breathing easier since the pain was now fading. “It’s passing now, I’m okay- just like I said.”

There’s a beat of audible relief between everyone. Chris shakes her head, still frowning with concern. “Still, too close for comfort- you should really get some rest, dear. It’s late anyhow.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Maes says. “C’mon honey, let’s go to bed already.”

Roy gives a small sigh, mainly at the prospect of trying to stand up again. “Alright, alright…”

---

Maes was a light sleeper for as long as he could remember. This was useful after becoming a soldier, needing to be alert at all times on the warfront - it was not useful after he came back to city life, gained a stressful, overworking job, and was expected to still function as a normal human being. After that, he was nearly an insomniac.

He has spent many long, lonely nights alone in his own bed, with his own wife and child - he has spent countless more before he was married at all. Being married a second time, to a second partner, has not lessened this - but it has made it a little easier. Because at the very least, he can be comfortably trapped between two partners and feel safe, no matter what his paranoid brain tells him, and lying still and quiet between them for long enough can finally set him drifting into unconsciousness.

So it’s just his damn luck that on this particular night, Yule’s Eve, of all evenings, he is tired and content enough to actually fall asleep within a reasonable span of time, and sleep soundly - and then be rudely shaken awake only a few hours later by a trembling hand and distressed voice.

“Maes- Maes, Gracey, wake up. You were right, I think- ugh- I think it’s coming-”

“Ngh- Roy?” Maes drawls out sleepily. “What- What’s coming?”

“The baby , you idiot, we- ow- we need to go- ”

“Coming…?” Gracia yawns awake. “What- Oh, oh god, Roy-”

Gracia’s form jerks to an upright position at his other side, jostling Maes further, and now there is no hope of him returning to that blessed space of mind where he is genuinely sleepy - instead it is replaced with panic over the realization that Roy is in labor.

“ Shit- ” he curses, and all but leaps to his feet from their shared bed - tight quarters in an already-small guest room - and haphazardly gets himself dressed as Gracia eases Roy to his feet, taking him through the breathing exercises they’d been practicing for months in preparation for this. They ease the pain, allegedly.

Maes can’t really tell as they shuffle out into the hallway, watching Roy double over from the contractions when they come, wishing he could do something, anything - he hates feeling helpless, and didn’t enjoy this when Elicia was born.

They turn a corner towards the living room, and he nearly jumps out of his skin - coming down another hallway is Chris and a few of her girls, wearing robes and holding oil lamps.

Chris’s eyes widen at the sight of them, and she lifts her lantern to look better. “It’s happening?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maes and Gracia say, almost in unison.

“Hmph! I knew it. C’mon then, we’ll take my car, it’s roomier.”

---

The next several hours are a blur, between the haze of pain Roy is experiencing and the panic everyone else is having. The car ride consisted of Gracia sitting by him in the back seats, breathing in time with him in their exercises, and Chris at his other side, instructing him to rock himself to and fro to ease the pressure. Maes and one of his sisters, Bridget he recalls, sat at the front of the car, struggling with maps and directions in the pitch-black of the night, toward the Central hospital where his specialized doctor would ensure a discreet delivery.

There was a lot of yelling and cursing, mostly from Maes against Central’s ‘backwards-ass street system,’ but at some point they finally arrived and Maes all but launched himself from the driver’s seat to run inside and schedule with the doctor. Soon, Roy was being lowered into a wheelchair and sped along into an operating room by a nurse, meeting with his doctor, and then entering the painful, arduous process of childbirth.

He tries not to dwell on anything - if he does, it’s on the small things. Gracia and Chris squeezing his hands as they lead him through various pain-relieving positions; Maes kissing his sweating forehead and muttering small prayers; everyone’s praise and encouragement at even the smallest amounts of progress.

In short, it’s as awful as Gracia warned him it would be, even with painkillers - but eventually, blessedly, he hears the tiny cries of the child he’s brought into existence, and when they are cleaned and brought into his waiting arms, he is told they are a healthy baby boy. As planned, he is named Elias Mustang Hughes.

Poor Elicia - she was looking forward to a sister.

---

The golden light of morning peaks over dark winter clouds, and gently streams through the plain curtains of the hospital room - morning is here, on the Winter Solstice, and Roy’s family has welcomed the birth of their son.

There was a flurry of emotions within and without him as Roy first held his child in his arms - rampant thoughts of “oh my god I’m holding a tiny person in my arms that I made inside my body and he’s here and he’s mine ”; Maes kissing him over and over, practically sobbing with happiness; Gracia all but climbing into the bed with them to hug him, also crying; Chris nearly shoving them both aside to get a closer look at her new grand-nephew and saying, “Oh, Roy… he looks like your mother, a little.” And that got Roy’s waterworks flowing as well.

Things have calmed down by now - Gracia has taken Elias aside (making Roy begrudgingly let go of him) to feed him milk formula she’d prepared ahead of time, seeing as Roy was not equipped to do so; Maes is pacing the room and whispering curses at himself for forgetting his camera in all the rush; Chris has pulled up a chair by Roy’s bedside to tell him more stories about his parents and the days he himself was an infant.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, and it creaks open - a nurse peeks in, saying “Excuse me - Hughes family? You have visitors- erm, a lot of them.”

“Oh, uh- let them in,” Maes stammers as he goes to the door, and he opens it fully.

Once again there a flurry of activity, for as soon as the door is thrown open, a small throng of people and things make their way inside the room. Gracia’s parents and aunts, Elicia and her cousins, Roy’s sisters, and Riza, Breda and Falman, all file inside with armfuls of boxes, baskets, and other containers filled to the brim with Yule decorations - the decorations from the house, Roy realizes, as they set about placing them around the hospital room in a similar manner to how they were back at the house.

Sebastian, broad and strong, even carries the entire Yule tree into the room with Breda and Falman’s assistance, setting it in the corner and piling the wrapped presents underneath it, just like it was in the parlor.

The nurses and doctors, of course, are none too happy about this; neither is Gracia, because the noise and commotion makes little Elias start crying again, and she has to place him back into Roy’s arms to calm him. Gabriella apologizes for everyone, but soon the work is done and things have settled again.

Bridget, who was nowhere to be seen during his labor, Roy realizes belatedly, turns to them and smiles triumphantly after placing the last of the decorations. “Sorry for the mess,” she says. “I called the house while you were in delivery to tell them the news, and Ms. Gabby had the best idea - since you guys would be stuck here and missing the party, we brought the party to you !”

Roy doesn’t know what to say to this; Gracia’s anger is calmed, but still thinks the whole thing’s a bit excessive (but it is something her mother would absolutely do); Maes is completely flabbergasted, mouth hanging open stupidly.

This is quickly rectified by Elicia approaching her mother and father to berate them - “You made me miss the baby! Why didn’t you wake me?!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Gracia tells her, lifting her into her arms to make up for it with hugs. “But it was the middle of the night, and we were in a hurry.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it anyway,” Maes says nonchalantly. “Just a lot of screaming and crying. But look, honey- this is your baby brother, Elias.”

Elicia stares at the bundle in Roy’s arms - then pinches with disgust. “I thought it was a girl- and he’s so ugly .”

“He was just born , dear, give him a break,” Roy says tiredly, but he’s laughing too. “You looked a lot like this when you were born too, as I recall.”

“Gross!” Elicia cries, shaking her pigtails, and Maes and Gracia are laughing as well.

And the rest of that day was just as enjoyable - the other guests acquainted themselves with little Elias and extended praise and congratulations to the family; presents were given out and opened with much joy and appreciation; food and drink was brought and shared over happy conversations; even music was brought in the form of Riza’s portable radio to smooth out the atmosphere with pleasant, quiet jazz.

The Yule gifts ran the gamut from clothes and candy to tools and appliances, some a perfect match to their recipients, others not so much, but nonetheless appreciated - after all, the most important aspect of the gift-giving was the well-wishes given alongside the physical presents. According to Sebastian, the ancient tribes of Amestris who started this tradition exchanged nothing more than small good-luck charms under their trees, for hope to survive the rest of the bitter winters.

For indeed, there is an overwhelming atmosphere of hope in this hospital room - for love, living, and a brighter future, especially after the strife of the past several years. For Roy, this is most evident in the new life he now holds in his arms.

---

Nearly a month later, the Hughes family have long since returned to their home with little Elias in tow - and as Gracia also warned, it is very tiring to care for a newborn. Especially with a somewhat-bratty four-year-old who must now deal with the reality of no longer being the sole center of attention from her parents.

But between the three of them, it’s manageable - two people to exchange shifts of sleeping and tending to the baby, a third person to tend to Elicia’s needs.

It was harder in the beginning, with Roy not only being new at this, but also very drained from the effort of delivery - luckily they received helpful visitors every few days after the Solstice, in the form of Gracia’s relatives, Chris and the girls, or members of Roy and Maes’ squadrons. For those who were absent, it also serves as their first opportunity to see little Elias and extend their congratulations (Armstrong, in his usual form, burst into tears at the sight of the child, he was so happy).

So far, only Elicia is unimpressed with her baby brother - on top of not being a girl, she complains of his small size and inability to walk, dashing her hopes of a new playmate anytime soon, and that he does nothing but sleep, eat, cry, and soil his diapers.

Again, her parents must remind her that he is mere weeks old, and she was much the same at that age. And again, she does not believe them. Ah, children.

One morning, finally feeling hale and healthy enough, Roy spends a few hours sitting outside on the porch with his coffee, watching morning traffic go by as the sun rises over Central’s skyline.

And it’s strange - he feels kind of empty, somehow, despite how full his life is. He must be slipping back into his low moods again - Gracia warned of postpartum depression as well. He tries not to dwell on it, as usual - he sips his sweetened coffee, watches the sunlight dance upon steel and wood rooftops, and wonders what sort of person his son will grow up to be.

He can’t settle on an answer - who could, with how broad the possibilities could be - but he does hope beyond all hopes, that Elias, and Elicia as well, will be better than the terrible mistakes their fathers have committed and still live with.

There is a shifting behind him suddenly, and the opening and closing of the front door - Roy turns to see Maes joining him on the porch, pulling up a deck chair beside him.

“Good mornin,” Maes says, pecking Roy’s cheek. “You’re up early. Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Roy says, shrugging. “How are the kids doing?”

“Eli’s been fed, so he’s down for the count for now,” Maes says. “And Elicia’s still sleeping. Gracey’s tucking in for a nap while it’s safe, and sent me to check on you.”

“Oh,” Roy says. “Well, like I said, I’m fine, so…”

“Are you?” Maes asks, eyes searching. “I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you had a rough time of it- if anything’s bothering you, you can tell me, hun. You know I’m always here.”

Roy frowns, and attempts to deflect him again - but as usual, his husband’s pretty, pleading eyes make it hard to keep up any facade for very long.

He sighs sadly. “I don’t know- I’m still tired, I guess. And I keep thinking…”

“Of what?”

Roy pauses, thinks for a long while, bothering his lower lip with his teeth again.

“Maes,” he says finally. “What are we going to tell them? About us, and what we’ve done?”

He swallows, thick with emotion suddenly. “How- how do I tell my son about Ishval ?”

Maes’ smile fades, his mouth a thin line, and he sits back, turning away. He searches the skyline for a small eternity, eyes squinting, as if searching for the answer. But eventually, he closes his eyes and exhales, and turns back to Roy.

“We’ll tell them everything,” he says solemnly. “The good, the bad- all of it. They deserve to know. We have to be better than the old bastards at Headquarters.”

“Mm,” Roy hums sadly. He’s right. He usually is.

“And then,” Maes says, taking Roy’s hand, squeezing it. “We’ll tell them to be better than us.”

He meets his eyes at that, and Roy can see something misty behind Maes’ glasses - and feels a prickling in his own. He dips his head and leans in, letting Maes hug him by the shoulders and lean against him in kind.

They watch the rest of the sunrise together. They hope that someday, their children will see something similar - a sun rising on a better world.

END.

#hyuroi #hyuroigracia #trans pregnancy #jeminy3 art #jeminy writes

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purple-spring · 7 years ago

Text

Coming Home - a SH fanfic

Author's Note: This is my follow-up fic to "Tomorrow" (read on Ao3 or Tumblr), an RPF story based on Sprousehart. RPF isn't everyone's cup of tea, and that's okay and understandable! This is something that I wrote in order to speculate, explore and tease out the nuances and dynamics of this relationship. It is obviously fictional, and was not intended to upset or offend.

To @jandjsalmon, I owe you so much. You were truly the co-pilot for this fic, and for that I am so grateful. The appearance of our beloved Dylan in this fic is my gift to you. Also to @theladylabyrinth for always checking in, reading and cheering me on, thank you. You are a gem. And to everyone who’s messaged me to tell me excited they were read more of my writing - this is for you. I hope you love it.

Summary: Cole had always wanted Lili, even from the very beginning. Now that they're apart for 48 hours, how does he deal? A companion piece to "Tomorrow", from Cole's perspective.

“On that fateful day in the audition room, Lili was more than radiance; she was fire. That day, without knowing it, he'd seen her at her most passionate and determined, and it drew him in. He wanted that fire. He wanted to live in constant proximity of its warmth. No, fuck it - he wanted to burn.”

Fic under the cut, or read on my Ao3. I love hearing from you. If you read it and loved it, come chat to me.

2.15 am.

For the first time in months, Cole couldn’t sleep.

This is fucking ridiculous. He rubbed his eyes in frustration. Having endured bouts of insomnia in the past, he knew the signs of a sleepless night all too well. Tonight was sure to be one of them. He also knew that all attempts to solve it – breathing exercises, meditation, white noise, a glass of warm milk – were bound for failure.

What am I doing wrong here? He’d gone to bed at a reasonable hour, well aware of the hectic schedule he was about to endure in the next 48 hours. He hadn’t opened his laptop, eliminating the temptation to edit his photos or browse Netflix. He should have been able to sleep easily. And yet here he was, awake and alert. He sighed and picked up his phone to scroll through his last few messages.

One from the fashion editor of Hunger magazine. Another one from Dylan (“see you soon fucker” – Cole smiled at that). And lastly, an image from Damon that the photographer needed an honest opinion on.

But maddeningly, nothing else. He checked the time again. Her plane wasn’t due to land for at least another hour. He clicked the lock button on his phone and tossed it over carelessly to the other side of the bed. Her side. It landed with a dull thump. He turned over and looked at the smoothed-over sheet, its emptiness taunting him.

Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep. He reached over and grabbed his phone again, clicked the home button so he could see his lock screen – an image of her amongst the poppies in Antelope Valley, one he had taken himself but hadn’t put up or published online. She was pulling a silly face, her tongue sticking out, managing somehow to look ridiculous and ethereal at the same time. A small smile formed on his lips.

Fuck. I miss you, Lils.

…

They were going to be apart for only a little over 24 hours. Lili was leaving for New York a day earlier for some other media commitments, and Cole was going to follow after to film the Tonight Show segment with her and the rest of the gang. It wasn’t ideal, but he figured he could try and be productive while she was away.

Which worked out in theory, but not so much in practice. Because now he missed her with an intensity that overruled any sort of attempt at productivity. After many months together, he was just used to having her around - her presence, her laughter, heck, even her smell (a heady mix of mint and amber). In the time that had passed since they returned to Vancouver for Season 2 filming, they’d barely spent a day apart. In fact, ever since they met (at least officially) when they were cast for the show, he had made every effort to see her and to be with her.

Cole first noticed Lili during one of the audition rounds for Riverdale. She was pretty - that much was obvious. At 23 years of age, however, having already been in show business for nearly as long as he’d been alive, he was used to pretty. He was constantly surrounded by it. The trick, he'd soon learn, was knowing how to distinguish pretty from interesting.

And Lili was interesting. He picked up on it moments after he walked into the audition waiting room, when every head swiveled around to gawk at him. Except for hers. Having been accustomed to being stared at and photographed without his consent, it intrigued him. She was sitting on the ground with her head down, her earphones plugged in and her script out on her lap, completely oblivious to the quiet storm of whispers that had erupted after his arrival (“Dude, that’s the guy from Suite Life.” “You sure? I thought that guy was broke and working at a restaurant.” “That was his twin, dumbass”). He decided to sit on the ground across from her. Partially to escape the stares. But mostly so he could look at her.

She looked up as he sat down. He quietly corrected his earlier presumption - she wasn’t just pretty; she was luminous, all light and radiance. Her big green eyes disrupted his composure, taking him in as she gave him a small smile of acknowledgement. He knew that he was done for. He had to get this girl’s number.

But she had other plans. Their brief flicker of shared connection fizzled immediately as she lowered her gaze back to her script, clearly not interested in talking. His mouth had been on the verge of starting a conversation, and he quickly closed it, feeling stupid and a little defeated. He resigned himself to reading over his own audition script. Might as well follow her lead.

A woman with a clipboard stepped out into the waiting room. “Lili Reinhart?”

No answer. The woman repeated her call. A few more times, and still no reply. It started to get awkward. A few hopeful actresses turned this way and that, trying to see if they had the fortune of having one less person to compete against.

Earphones, Cole realised with a start. He stuck out his leg and poked the girl’s foot. She looked up, startled, as he motioned for her to take off her earphones. “Hey,” he said as she pulled them out, “are you Lili?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Lili. He committed her name to memory.

“I think they’re calling you.” She looked up and made eye contact with the clipboard woman, then scrambled to gather her things quickly as she realised that she’d been called up.

“Shit. Thanks for that.” She shot him a grateful look before standing up. “You’re auditioning, too?”

It struck Cole that she actually had no idea who she was. And it exhilarated him. He was a blank canvas to this Lili. He could be anyone to her. He could be himself.

“Uh, yeah.” He flashed her what he hoped was a charming smile.

“Cool. Best of luck.” She grinned in return, then turned to another guy who was sitting on the floor, also with his earphones plugged in. Cole hadn't even noticed him. Lili nudged him with her knee. “Hey, Iz.”

The guy pulled out his earphones. “Yeah?”

“I just got called in.” Lili beamed nervously. “I'll catch you later, okay? Let me know how you go?”

“Sure thing. Go kill ‘em, Lils.” Cole narrowed his eyes. Lils. The guy knew her on a nickname basis. Who the hell was this dude, anyway? He felt oddly territorial.

“Thanks. Oh, and can you please send me that picture you took of me earlier?” The guy nodded. Cole looked at him and sized him up. This ‘Iz’ didn't even have a decent camera. Whatever photo he took of Lili, Cole was betting he could take another one that was a million times better. He quietly resolved that if he's he ever met her again, he would.

Soon, another woman with a clipboard appeared and called out his name. “Cole Sprouse?” The entire room buzzed with curiosity, and quickly hushed as he stood up, making an effort to contain themselves. Cole rolled his eyes at the attempt at cool detachment. He picked up his backpack and packed his script inside.

“Hey, you're Cole?” Lili’s friend smiled up at him, and offered a handshake. Cole took it firmly. “I'm Israel. I'd say good luck, but you know, we're probably going for the same role.”

Cole laughed at that. “Hey, thanks anyway, man.” He felt a little less proprietorial. The guy was here to try out for a role, not to be a potential boyfriend. Jesus. Relax, Cole. They exchanged final pleasantries before Cole went in for his audition.

Later on, pleased and confident at how it went, he stepped back out into the waiting room riding on a high. It was then that he realised that Lili was most likely gone. He looked around, searching for her face, with no luck.

Shit. He was disappointed. He was really hoping to run into her. Maybe even take her out that very afternoon.

Strangely enough, however, he didn't feel completely hopeless. He couldn't explain it at the time, but he had a sense that he'd see her again. Some inkling of fate, or kismet. Many months later, after the cast was finalised and they were doing their first rounds of publicity, it was a conversation with Camila that clarified for him why he was so certain that their paths would cross over again.

“I mean, you were there. Didn't you pick it?” Camila said. “I knew it straightaway - THAT girl was going to be Betty. Hundred percent. You just knew it from looking at her.”

And that was precisely it. On that fateful day in the audition room, Lili was more than radiance; she was fire. That day, without knowing it, he'd seen her at her most passionate and determined, and it drew him in. He wanted that fire. He wanted to live in constant proximity of its warmth. No, fuck it - he wanted to burn.

They would meet again when Roberto called them both in for a chemistry read. She found it hilarious and embarrassing that she had no idea who he was. He, in turn, was bewildered at how quickly he fell, how swiftly he would arrive at the conclusion that he needed (not just wanted – needed) her in his life.

Cole wasted no time pursuing her. They exchanged numbers that day, and he called her later that night. They hung up at 2 am.

The rest, as they say, was history.

…

Cole checked the time again. He decided to wait until he was sure that Lili’s plane had touched down, then he would try to call her.

This is bordering on unhinged, he thought to himself, shaking his head. After all, he'd literally packed her away into her Uber just HOURS before, bending down to kiss her goodbye through the open window, lingering a little too long until her driver rudely interrupted them, yelling, “She's got a flight to catch, lover boy!” Right after she left, he texted Lili, joking that she should give the guy a bad review.

She texted back. Well he did have a point, my friend.

He replied immediately. So did I. I was making it known through the window.

Touché. Point taken. Remind me to give you a rebuttal next time.

Cole loved that. He lived for their banter. He found it incredibly sexy that she could keep up with him, serving barbs and wit as easily as he could. He liked making her laugh, but for some reason, he especially loved it when she would tell him point-blank when he wasn’t being funny. He found something attractive in that naked honesty, her ability to give it to him straight rather than resorting to cheap flattery. It was one of a million different reasons why he loved her.

It still unnerved him how it could have all slipped away so easily. After introducing her to his inner circle, including his brother, he thought they were a done deal. Cole thought his feelings were pretty obvious - he wasn’t seeing anyone else, he spent all his spare time with her and he had introduced her to everyone that mattered in his life. So when she started distancing herself from him, he was alarmed. It took a fateful Baz Luhrmann movie marathon at Debby’s place (and some awesome overnight spooning) to break the tension open, as she unexpectedly confronted him, asking him what he felt for her.

Cole remembered being utterly confused at the time, shocked that she hadn’t picked up on his intentions. He couldn’t think of any words that didn’t sound maudlin or cheap to his ears, so he went right ahead and kissed her. He still remembered every bit of it – her hands at his chest and his neck, his teeth catching on her lip, her breath fast and warm. They had kissed countless times since then, but that was the one he committed most immediately to memory. Not because of the quality of the kiss (which, admittedly, was top-notch), but because it let loose a wild river in him – a savage torrent of thought and emotion that made him want to protect her, dream with her, wake up to her, travel with her, do dumb stuff with her, make love to her. The depth and suddenness of it all startled him, but at the same time he wasn’t completely surprised, because she was Lili, and she was pretty fucking amazing.

Things progressed fairly quickly from then on, and the cast and crew of Riverdale caught on soon enough. It was after a casual comment from Skeet on set (“Cole, where's Lili? Didn't you drive in together this morning?”) that they realised that they had to have The Conversation. The one they’d both been dreading ever since Riverdale was picked up for a second season.

As fun as Riverdale was, they both knew that the rowdy, camp-like atmosphere of the set merely disguised the reality that it was a job for both of them. They were working, and thus, they were co-workers. It was clear to them (to her, in particular) that they needed some personal and professional boundaries if they were going to go forward and co-exist as both lovers and work colleagues.

They were sitting in the backseat of his Jeep, parked just outside of Squamish, his head in her lap, her fingers trailing lazily through his hair. “So, do you think we have to sit everyone down and tell them?” Lili asked.

“Lili, can I be honest with you? Everyone already knows.”

Her face registered surprise. “Wait, so you're telling me Skeet wasn’t just cluelessly making assumptions? Everyone knows knows?” He nodded and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you tell them?”

“No! It’s just like, one of those unspoken things that everyone’s just… assumed.”

“Oh, my god. How do you know this?”

He was quiet for a while. “Cole?” she pressed.

“Okay. People… have asked.”

“They’ve asked? Why haven’t they been asking me?”

“Because they know you’ll be you, and that you’ll be all coy, whereas I on the other hand - and you know this - will basically tell you anything that you ask me.”

“That’s true. You have a terrible poker face.”

“Okay, I know we’re having a serious conversation here, but allow me to digress because honour demands that I defend my name. I’ll have you know that while the saying itself is true of me – ‘cause you’re right, I can’t lie for shit – I happen to be an excellent poker player. Ask Dylan.”

“I have, and he says you’re shocking.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. HOW in the name of fraternal betrayal did you two even have that conversation?”

She giggled. “Totally beside the point. Look, can we focus on the issue here please?” She cupped his face with her hand, looking straight into his eyes. “I’m just worried, Cole. This is a big deal for me, you know. Not just Riverdale, but you. Especially you.”

He smiled at her, teasing. “I’m a big deal, huh?”

She flicked his cheek. “I think you know that.”

“Would I be asking if I did?” She rolled her eyes. He poked her chin playfully. “Come on, tell me how I'm a big deal.”

She bent down to kissed him. “You're annoying, you know that?”

“Oh, without a doubt.”

“But fine. I'll indulge you anyway. You…” She paused to think. “You're a big deal because… well, you're you, Cole.”

He sat up and feigned offense. “OH MY GOD, I knew it. Are you dating me because of my fame?”

“Can you shut up? I mean, you're…YOU. You're intelligent and funny and talented, and yeah okay, pretty damn good-looking-” He made a silly face, and she laughed. “And you're a good guy. You're a good man. And it's all just a little bit overwhelming.”

“What, for you?”

“Yeah, for me.”

“Lili, no offense, but you're an idiot. Honestly, if we weren't dating, I'd be the guy telling you to date someone else. Like, I don't know, KJ.”

“KJ!” Lili burst out laughing.

“Hey, I'm still convinced he was crushing on you at auditions.”

“Yes, you've told me. Like a million times. And that is a hill you are going to die on alone, pal.”

“Hey, whatever. You know I'm right. But… how could you even be overwhelmed? That's like… that's like the sun saying, ‘Oh look, I know I'm the centre of the galaxy and all, but I'm just a little star.” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Okay, maybe that's a bad example, because our sun is actually a comparatively small star in the universe. Point is, you're a babe, Lils. You're beautiful, and insanely talented, and smart, and you're a badass. You're fucking pure --”

“Oh-hooo. ‘Pure’, huh? Is someone forgetting what happened last night?”

“Lils, no-one will ever forget what happened last night. No-one in the history of mankind will ever forget what happened last night. I - wait, what the fuck was my point?”

She laughed. “I don't even remember.”

He laughed too. “Hey. C’mere.” He pulled her at the collar and drew her in for a kiss. When he pulled away to look at her, he brushed a lock of hair away from her face and held his hand there. “This is good, you know? What we have.”

“I know. Completely agree.”

“So… I don't know, I'm not super keen on the idea of hiding it away, or making a big deal out of making it, quote-unquote, official.” He shrugged. “We don't have to do anything. We're just us. Me and you. I think we're perfectly capable of doing our jobs right without letting this interfere. And… if people find out, they find out.”

“Okay, and if it goes public…?”

“Then it goes public. Who cares? I mean, I'm never commenting on it. Are you? I mean, did you want to?”

“God, no.”

“So there you go.” He gave her jawline a soft kiss. “Let's just do this, you know? Be you, be me. Be us. If everyone else finds out, we’ll deal with it together. But otherwise, let the chips fall where they may.”

She looked him square in the eye. “Did you just make a Fight Club reference? In the middle of our moment?”

“Yes, because godddamn I love that movie.” Mentally, he also took note of the fact that she knew Fight Club quotes right off the bat, and it was incredibly sexy.

She laughed softly. “Alright then, Cole Mitchell Sprouse.”

“Alright to what?”

“To all of that. To us.” She smiled and kissed him. “Let's do this.”

…

Cole thought back to that conversation with fondness as he got out of bed and made his way to the couch, having forsworn sleep for the night. I am seriously fucked for New York. He swore as he stumbled and tripped over one of her strappy heels in the dark, then smiled to himself when he remembered the simple, early joys of their relationship – finding out that Lili was actually the messier one and had a habit of leaving her shoes everywhere (one time, he found one under his pillow), sneaking quick kisses around the set, walking around Vancouver hand-in-hand at midnight, when they had the least chances of being spotted.

It was a more innocent, uncomplicated time. Then Comic Con happened.

They hadn’t intended to out themselves. But at the same time, their relationship was becoming a reality that was getting harder to deny outside of their immediate circle. Neither of them was really thinking that night, and sure, he could have blamed the alcohol, but really, they just forgot to switch off the normalcy of their relationship. So when she was cold, he gave her his jacket. When they were standing together, he’d hold her hand. When he felt like it, he kissed her. When they were climbing into their car, he held onto her waist protectively.

It was Lili who got the message first. Cole felt her stir awake the next morning, which he thought strange, since she was usually the heavier sleeper. He snuggled into her back and threw his arm around her waist, his lips on the back of her neck. “What time is it?” he whispered groggily.

“Cole.”

It was the heavy, even tone of her voice that alerted him to the fact that something was wrong. His eyes opened and he turned to look at her. She handed him her phone without a word. It was text from their friend, Mad Hill.

“Just a heads up – last night was packed with EW staff, including a friend of mine who was asking some… interesting questions. Can’t say for sure what’ll happen, but I’d keep a low profile today. Missing you two already Xx”

Cole looked over at Lili, who looked rigid with panic. “Entertainment Weekly, Cole,” she said.

“Oh. Is that what EW stands for?” Lame joke. Terrible. Not the time.

“Cole, be serious.”

“Lils, I'm sure it's fine.”

“How do you know it's fine?”

“I don’t know, I just --”

Her phone rang. She looked at the screen and groaned. “Jeff. Fuck.” Her publicist. She threw her phone onto the bed and covered her face with a pillow. Cole looked at her for a moment, deciding she was in no state to take the call. He retrieved her phone from the sheets and answered it for her as she burrowed miserably under the covers. “Hey, Jeff, Cole here -- ah, not right now, no -- yeah we kinda heard, actually -- sure -- right -- actually, uh, is it okay if she gets back to you? -- appreciate it, man -- yeah, you too. Bye.”

Lili uncovered her face and looked at him. “What'd he say?”

“Do you want the good version or the bad version?”

She sat upright. “Bad version. Give it to me.”

“EW is doing a write-up. On us. On last night. They've already contacted Jeff for comment.” Lili closed her eyes in frustration. “He's calling to ask what you wanted him to say.”

Before Lili could react, Cole’s phone buzzed as well - a message. “It's Henry,” he said. His publicist.

“And?”

He opened the message and scanned over it quickly. “Same thing. EW got in touch with him. And People. And a bunch of other outlets.”

They were both quiet as they digested the news - Lili in paralysed alarm, Cole in resignation. It felt surreal to him to have only been asleep in bed with her moments ago, blissfully unaware of the storm gathering around them. And now, their bubble had burst, and the world was starting to spill in.

“What are we going to do, Cole?”

She sighed heavily. He took her hands in his and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Lili. Look at me.”

She raised her head, and he was startled to see tears pooling in her eyes. He had the makings of a well-crafted speech about how none of this mattered, that they would just have to lie low until it blew over, but all of that dissolved on his tongue. It broke something in him to see her this vulnerable. Of course he’d seen Lili cry before, but this was different. Because he was culpable. He was implicated in those tears. Somewhere along the line, his presence in her life had contributed to them. And knowing that invoked both a fierceness and a tenderness in him. In seeing her vulnerability, he saw his own. And it was all tied up in her.

He realized then and there that he couldn’t just give her the verbal equivalent of a shrug. And that there was nothing he would have taken back from last night. Because it was real, all of it. That night, he didn’t want to leave her side, and he couldn't care less whether anyone else noticed. And he knew that he’d said that before - that he didn't care what was said about them - but this time, faced with the possibility of being publicly touted as a couple, he realised that he actually meant it.

He was silent for many moments. Lili looked at him expectantly. At last, he found the words. Of at least the word. And it wasn’t what either of them was expecting.

“Canoodling.”

If tears could be retracted, Lili’s would have rolled right back. “I’m... sorry?”

“I’m telling my publicist to use that word. Or to tell someone to use it. When they're describing… well, us. Might as well laugh about it, right? Take ownership of the narrative and all that shit.”

“‘Canoodling’, what the fuck?” Soon Lili was caught between laughing and sniffling back her tears. He'd never been so relieved to hear her laughter. “Cole, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that… maybe it’s time.” He heard Lili’s soft, sudden intake of breath. “Maybe I'm okay with people knowing.”

“Are you--”

“Only if it's fine with you,” he added hurriedly.

Lili reached out and traced his eyebrow. “I mean, yeah, but… Cole, we said we wouldn’t talk about this. At least not in public.”

“I'm not saying we're talking. I'm saying that I'm okay with people knowing. There’s a difference.” He sighed. “If people say that they saw us last night, I can’t get mad at that. I was with you. I did kiss you. I canoodled with you.” Lili chortled at that. “And if someone pipes up and says that I did all that with Lili Reinhart… well, shit, I should be so lucky, right?”

Lili smiled. “Damn right, you’re lucky.” She exhaled shakily, seeming to relax.

“Look,” he said. He cradled her face in his hands and brought it close, close enough so that he could feel her breathe. “Either way, I really don’t care. As far as I can tell, nothing changes this. Nothing changes us. So a few more people know - who gives a shit? I'm still me, and you're still you, and this is still ours. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. And when he finally kissed her, he felt as if her lips were his ballast amidst the craziness they'd just found themselves in. He kissed her with abandon - desperately, hungrily, as if by kissing he could erase her worry, her fear, her panic. He gathered her in his arms and pulled her down until they were tangled in the sheets again, just as they were when he first woke up.

“I love you,” he said, his breath ragged as he pulled away, just briefly, just enough so he could tell her. “So fuck it. Let the whole world know.”

…

Cole ended up passing out on the couch that night, his phone in his hand. When he woke up and checked it, he realised that Lili had tried to FaceTime him. He knew there was no point in calling back – she’d already be getting ready with her style team and had a full day of press engagements ahead of her. He sent her a selfie, adding, “Look where I fell asleep.”

Three dots. She was replying. “Nice.” Then, “I miss you xx”

He groaned. How was he supposed to respond to that, when he literally could not sleep without her? He typed a few joke messages into the text box, just to mess around. “I miss you too and I’m pretty sure that re-triggered my insomnia.” “Yeah so I found out that I actually can’t sleep unless your foot does that annoying thing where it’s freezing and tries to steal my body warmth, so thanks.” “I have no idea how sleep works without you anymore, send help?”

He kept typing and deleting each one. After a while, she texted again. “Wtf are you typing, an essay?”

Cole laughed to himself. Never mind. “Nothing, just messing around.” Then, “I fkn miss you babe xx”

By the time he flew into New York, he was desperate to see her. He took the red-eye from Vancouver and arrived in the early hours of the morning, excited to wake her up, annoy her, hold her and fall back asleep. So when he arrived at the hotel and was told that he’d be rooming with KJ (apparently the girls needed adjoining suites for their teams to help them get ready together), it took considerable energy not to explode. He knew it was completely fair – after all, this trip was on the Riverdale account, and they shouldn’t have to accommodate him and Lili. Still, not seeing her rankled him, and when he walked into his suite, he gruffly ignored KJ, who was happily munching on room service fries. He plonked himself in bed, eventually settling into a fitful, oft-disturbed sleep.

The following day passed by in a blur. He met up and hung out with Dylan, which helped lift his mood, and texted Lili throughout the day, and before he knew it, he was due back at NBC Studios to get ready for the show.

Backstage at the Tonight Show was a brilliant mess, and it briefly reminded him of why he enjoyed working in television. The Roots, hip-hop legends and the Tonight Show’s house band, were ruling the roost like kings, while the Cyrus family and their entourage made him momentarily nostalgic for his Disney days. If he hadn't been so sullen, he probably would have enjoyed it a little bit more. Instead, he spent most of the time sitting in companionable silence with KJ, occasionally ducking out for a smoke with Dylan, and wondering when Lili would arrive.

By 3.30 PM, Cole was in a mild panic, wondering why he couldn't find her anywhere. The usual call time for guests of the show was 3.15 PM, and he still hadn't spotted her. At one point he saw Madelaine rushing past, which meant the girls had arrived. When he tried to talk to her, however, she blurted out, “Can't! I'm looking for my shoes!”

A crew member soon appeared at his side to usher him quickly to the green room to film a web exclusive for the Tonight Show. He was so tired and churlish that he barely had time to react when he walked into the room and finally, finally saw Lili - a vision in red and black - talking animatedly with Dylan.

The room felt drained of air and charged with pure voltage. He felt energy coursing through his body as he fought off every urge to scoop her up in his arms, kiss her senseless and carry her off and out of the studio. He began to approach her, but was quickly overtaken by one of the stage managers, who clapped his hands together to get their attention.

“Right, do we have everyone here? Okay, so Lili, we need you to hold these cards and read the descriptions out - the rest of you just need to pick the person that each description applies to.” The cast nodded along. “Smile, interact with each other, and most importantly, have fun! Alright? Okay, can we have everyone sitting on the couch, please?”

Cole grabbed Lili’s hand, perhaps a little roughly, as she made her way to the couch. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said, her eyes registering surprise at the sudden, desperate devotion of the gesture. She gave him a questioning look. “You okay?”

“Okay, Riverdale cast, places!”

Cole groaned inwardly and took a spot next to Lili on the end of the couch. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You think they'll notice if you and I just took off?”

She giggled, then gave him a stern look. “You know, Cole, I think they might,” she replied in mock seriousness. “But then again, you could probably argue that the commercials stated that the CAST of Riverdale would be on. They never actually mentioned WHICH members of the cast. So technically, if we're talking legal obligation…”

He shook his head, grumpy and glowering. “Don't tempt me.” Lili gave him a sympathetic look and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He looked up and saw Dylan behind the film crew, who grinned at the two of them and mouthed one word silently at his twin: “whipped.” Cole sneered at him.

The web exclusive was filmed quickly, with Cole switching seamlessly into professional mode. At one point, he propped himself up on the arm of the couch and Lili casually rested her arm on his leg, all too aware of his peevish mood. After her extended absence, the small gesture steadied and reassured Cole.

“Alright, cut! Thanks, guys.”

Lili stood up, but Cole was quick; he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in to hug her, burying his face in her stomach. She was surprised, but brought her hand up to run her fingers gently through his hair. “Hey, stranger,” she said. “You okay there?”

Cole mumbled something unintelligible.

“Leave him, he’s being a fucking baby, Lils,” Dylan called out from across the room. KJ laughed. Lili rolled her eyes at them while Cole gave them the finger, his head still burrowed into her waist.

Lili gave his head one last affectionate ruffle before disentangling herself to rush off for final touch-ups. Cole saw her once more, briefly, just before the show began, when she came over to catch up with Dylan. As annoyed as he was that they couldn't be alone, it filled him with quiet pride that he had a girlfriend that his brother not only approved of, but got along with.

As filming began, so too did Cole’s internal countdown - he had mere hours left before he had her all to himself. He was far too tired, far too gone to bring himself to care about how his ardor made him look. At one point during a commercial break, she looked over to him with a small, flirtatious smile playing on her lips, and he couldn't help it - he casually sauntered over, pulling her into his arms as she leaned into his embrace. He tucked his head against hers and kissed the hollow of her temple. She tilted her head up to whisper something to him.

“Cole?”

“Mmm.”

“You smell good.”

“Thanks. It's my natural musk.”

Lili chuckled. The stage manager began the countdown to their next shot. He hesitatingly began to let go, but she held on for a fraction longer.

“Cole?”

“Yes?”

A brief pause. “I'm hungry.”

Cole burst out laughing. “Just a little longer, babe,” he muttered into her cheek, before letting go. It was for her as much as it was for him. He willed himself to patience as they prepared for their last interview.

…

Dylan sat on one end of the green room couch as Cole packed his stuff up. KJ was elsewhere backstage, and given that they barely saw each other, Cole was grateful to have a few quiet moments with his brother.

Dylan was scrolling mindlessly through his phone when he piped up. “Cole.”

“Yeah.”

He put his phone down. “So… this is going to sound a bit lame and, you know, mawkish, but…” He cleared his throat. This was weird for both of them. “You really love Lili, don’t you?”

Cole scoffed. It felt trivial to say yes. He looked at Dylan, who understood.

“So… are you going to do anything about it?”

“What do you mean, am I gonna do anything about it?”

“Well… you know,” Dylan looked at him, a little surprised that he didn't catch his drift. “You were kind of a mess without her earlier.”

“I was?”

Dylan laughed. “KJ asked me if you were on your period.”

“How original.”

“I told him no, but then again I've heard that being on the pill can be a real bitch, so as the male twin I've learned to steer clear.”

Cole guffawed, then aimed a crumpled piece of paper at Dylan’s head. He missed. “Shit aim, baby brother,” Dylan gloated.

“Yeah, well I was blinded by the light bouncing of your flowing golden tresses.”

“Don't be jealous now.”

“I’m sorry, but did Seventeen magazine call your hair ‘a thing of beauty’? I think not.”

“Ha! Lils actually sent me that article.”

“I remember. The two of you feasted on that in the group chat for days.”

They both laughed and fell quiet. The kind of quiet that only twin brothers could share. Dylan looked over at Cole. “I’m crazy about her, Dyl.”

“Yeah, I know. I can tell. She’s pretty great.”

“She’s the best.”

“And so this is what I’m saying.” Dylan stood and pulled up a chair closer to Cole. Cole called this his Alpha Brother move. Whenever it came out to play, it meant that Dylan was about to hand down some serious advice.

“Really? You’re going Alpha Brother?”

“Yeah, I’m going Alpha Brother. But I’ll make it quick.” Dylan ran his hand through hair and looked directly at his twin. “Do not. Fuck. This. Up.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.”

“No. I mean, for you. Don't fuck this up for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

Dylan cocked an eyebrow at his brother. “What are you like without her, Cole?”

Cole thought of the previous two nights. The lack of sleep. The prickling anxiety. The inexplicable ache. “Pretty fucking sad, I'll admit.”

“Yeah. I believe I got a text message 3 am Vancouver time asking me what my favourite cereal was.”

“Well, in fairness, I had to know. Is it still Frosted Flakes? Or have you now been converted to Honey Nut Cheerios? Actually, you never replied to me.”

“I thought you were drunk, to be honest.”

“Nah, just embarrassingly miserable.”

“And what about Lili?”

“What about her?”

“Well, does she know what you're like? And what's she like when you leave? You're like the enfant terrible of the fashion world now, how does she feel when you have to go?”

Cole opened his mouth to reply, then halted himself. He wasn’t sure that they ever had a real conversation about it. Lili is super chill though, he thought to himself. They had a routine: she was usually in bed when he left, he'd text her when he landed, and she was happy to see him when he came back. She usually left him to his own devices during shoots, preferring to give him space to focus on his work. And he loved her for that.

But he did wonder sometimes what it was like for her. To say goodbye to him so often, when they were the closest thing to family for each other in Vancouver. A jarring image suddenly flashed through his mind of Lili alone at the apartment, doing exactly what he did 24 hours before: refusing to sleep in the bed, choosing the couch over the mocking emptiness of his side. His heart twinged at the thought of her leaning her head on the throw pillows, waiting for a text message, falling asleep, then waking up to no-one.

“Cole? You're kind of leaving me hanging here.”

Dylan’s voice snapped Cole out of his thoughts. He glanced at his brother. “I mean, she knows it's my job,” he began. “But… to be honest, I haven't really asked her.”

“Well, can I be frank with you? You sure as shit need to start asking her soon. Because if she's even half as bad as you are when she's not within arm’s reach, I'd say that this is the real deal for both of you, and in that case, you have some serious thinking to do.”

“What the hell? Are you telling me to propose?”

“Dude, no! I'm just saying, what were you planning on doing after Vancouver? After Riverdale? Do you still want her in your life?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied firmly. He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

“Then do yourself a favour and start acting like you want to make it happen. Don't let yourselves just figure it out and wing it along the way. Because this thing that you two have? It's... epic.”

Cole looked down at his hands, turning this over in his mind.

“Look, I know you're smart enough that you won't let this go. You're way too happy for that.”

“I am.”

“What I'm saying is, make it tangible. Start imagining it beyond the confines of your little bubble, beyond tomorrow.” Dylan leaned forward in his seat. “Start making it real, Cole.”

Cole was silent. His brother sat back in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don't know, does any of that make sense?”

A million images were flashing through Cole’s mind. Lili at the audition, her earphones plugged in. On the balcony of Debby’s place, watching the sunset, laughing with him. On the Riverdale set, her eyes steely and focused and avoiding his, right before their first onscreen kiss. In his Jeep, her arm hanging out of the window, her hand making waves in the wind. At Coachella, dancing freely and without a care in the world. In Antelope Valley, among the poppies. In the morning, asleep in his arms.

“Yeah,” he said finally, smiling. “It does.”

...

Cole was standing outside the girls’ dressing room. Camila and Madelaine had already gone ahead to eat, and Lili was the last to get cleaned up. He stepped in just as she slipped her jacket on. She perked up when she saw him. “Hey,” she said, smiling as they made eye contact through the mirror.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little away from her, looking at her reflection in wistful marvel. As beautiful as she was earlier, this was his favourite Lili – casual, freshly scrubbed, unadorned, purely her. “You got a second?”

Lili turned around. “Always.” She tugged playfully on the front of his shirt to pull him closer. “But first –“ She tilted her head up, smiling, and pulled him down for a swift, sweet kiss. “Okay, now I’m good. What’s up?”

He seated himself on one of the bar stools in the room. In his head, he could hear Dylan’s voice. Start making it real, Cole. He took a deep breath. “So, uh, I’m not sure if you were fully aware of this, but… I was sort of fucked up these past 48 hours or so.”

“Really, now?” Lili smiled mischievously, wanting him to elaborate. “And what did those 48 hours happen to coincide with?”

“Well, obviously, you were away. I was a mess without you.”

“Aw, I know. I missed you, too, Cole.”

“No, you don't understand. This wasn’t just… that.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m just gonna be real vulnerable here, okay? I was actually pretty anxious while you were gone.”

Lili’s eyes immediately filled with concern. “You were?”

“I couldn’t sleep, Lils.” He rubbed his eyes. He was just starting to realise how exhausted he still was. “That first night, my body literally just folded from exhaustion after staying up all night. I couldn’t fall asleep in bed, because you weren’t there. It just didn’t feel right.”

Lili sighed in sympathy. Her hand reached around and caressed the back of his neck. She always did that when he felt tense. He reached up and intertwined his fingers with hers, bringing them to his lips before holding them in his own, tucked firmly against his chest.

“To be honest, it got me thinking. And I’m probably the shittiest boyfriend in the world not to have figured this out sooner, but… while you were gone, I realised that I go away a lot. I’m gone for whole weekends. For shoots and stuff. And of course I miss you then, but I’ve got the work to keep me busy, you know? But, for you…”

“Cole, let me stop you there, okay? You are amazing at what you do. And I love it. Seriously. I never, ever want you to apologize for being away on a shoot, for doing your job. If I've ever indicated otherwise, I'm --”

Cole cut in. “Lils, no. This isn’t about that. I know you support me. Trust me, I know that. But, babe, you gotta be honest with me.” He used his free hand to pull her closer so that she was flush against his body. “How I felt when you were away, what it was like for me... is that… does that bear any resemblance to what it’s like for you when I’m gone?”

“Cole, I –“

“Just… please?”

Lili sighed. She was silent for a few moments, as if she was weighing something in her mind. “Okay. You know those nights when I’m basically texting you a play-by-play of whatever shitty movie I’m watching?”

“Yeah? By the way, your in-depth analysis of Dirty Grandpa was a thing of beauty.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” she said, laughing. “Yeah, well, it's not just my attempt at being Roger Ebert. It’s my way of keeping you around without… you know, being all clingy and sad.”

Cole nodded. It made sense. Still, his heart clenched at the image – the TV’s neon blare reflecting off Lili’s face as she watched one terrible movie after another, clutching sleepily at her phone, just like he did, waiting for him to call.

She continued. “Look, Cole, really… I’m fine. Honestly. I just… I don’t want you to feel like you’ve got this tragic figure waiting for you back in Vancouver, you know? I want you to be free to pursue your passion, because it’s one of the things I love about you. But obviously, sometimes…” she trailed off.

“Sometimes…?”

She tangled her fingers in his hair, one hand playing with his stubborn forelock. “Have you ever read The Alchemist?” she asked.

“Once, ages ago.”

“I loaned it recently from the library. And there’s this part in it, when Santiago – you remember him, right? The protagonist?” Cole nodded. “Well, Santiago meets this woman, Fatima, at a desert oasis, and they fall in love. Only problem is, he's about to go on a quest for his treasure.”

“Because of what a gypsy told him, right?”

“Right. So she’s seen all these women around her losing their men to the desert and she realises that she'll be one of them now. That she's gonna have to stay back and wait as well. And she's amazing. She’s so strong and resilient, but still, she cries. Santiago asks her why. And her reply was this - ‘I am a woman of the desert, but above all, I'm a woman.”

Cole started to interrupt, but Lili stopped him.

“I know you have to go away sometimes, Cole. And I want you to. Your work…” She stopped to take a deep breath. “Do you know that sometimes, when I see your work, I actually get emotional?” Cole smiled at that. “I’m serious. It’s because I know where it's coming from. I know that it comes from a deep place of passion and joy and that it basically saved you from a dark place. So when you go on shoots, you take all of that with you. It feeds you. It energizes you. And so… even though I feel lonely when you go, and I watch awful movies and eat terrible food, it makes me happy. Because it makes you happy.”

“But, Lils,” he interjected. “Can’t you see that I don’t want that? I don’t want a reality where your happiness is an after-effect of mine. I don’t want that damn desert woman metaphor. Or, okay, maybe I want it, but you need to understand that it works both ways. Because I'm not the only one going out to the desert, and you're not the only one waiting. We're both going. We're both waiting. I’ve got my own stuff to chase, but Lils, look at you. You’re on your own ascent. And honestly? I am fucking here for it.”

Lili smiled at that, a little shyly. “Thanks.” She cupped his face in her hands. “So… what? What are we saying here, Cole?”

“What I’m saying is…” He paused and let out a breath. “These last 48 hours have been hellish, but that won’t be the last time that I can’t get to sleep without you. And let’s face it, Dirty Grandpa’s not gonna be your last shitty movie commentary, either.”

Lili laughed at that. “No, it won’t.”

“It’s just how our lives are, you know? We’ll both be coming and going, in and out of Vancouver, all the time. And normally, I’m used to it. I’m a nomad. I’ve lived everywhere and I’ve never been afraid to be alone and unsettled and adrift. But… here’s the thing.” He leaned in, his forehead against hers, their eyes locked into each other’s. “I’ve never felt homesick before. Not until now. Not until you.”

Time stood still as he watched Lili take this in. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Because you’re home to me, Lili.”

He could almost feel it sinking into her, her sharp intake of breath, her eyes misting over. “Look, I honestly don’t know what life will be like for us, post-Riverdale. I can’t promise you anything. All I know is… wherever you are, whether it's Vancouver or LA or New York or fucking Timbuktu, I want to live in that sphere. And wherever my path takes me, I want to know that I can turn right around and follow it back to you.”

Silence. She kept her eyes down. He panicked slightly. Was this all too much for her? “Is that… are you okay with that?”

Lili looked up at him, her green eyes shining with tears, and the resolution of an unspoken vow. She didn’t say anything. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him with a passion that left nothing uncertain. I love you, it said, as her lips parted to meet his. I miss you, it uttered, as her teeth caught his lower lip. I want you, it declared, as she broke off - to his dismay - only to have her pull him down to her neck. His breath was rapid on her bared shoulder, his mouth leaving a trail of warmth.

When they finally broke apart, Cole felt emptied - of everything she had taken from him, every ounce of himself that he had promised to her. She smiled up at him, and in that moment he swore that her beauty was a madness he would refuse to recover from. So this is making it real. He smiled back. He was exhilarated. Maybe Alpha Brother was right, after all.

He rubbed her back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” she replied. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Cole grinned. “I do. I love you, too.” He pulled her in for an embrace. They stayed like that for a while. They could hear the sounds of packing up outside - footsteps hurrying past, people yelling out their goodbyes - but they were in no hurry. Finally, she leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

“Cole?”

“Yep.”

“I'm still hungry.”

He burst out laughing. “We’ll find you something to eat. Did you wanna do anything after? We might have a bit of time before the flight.”

“Nah, I'm good.” Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She pressed one last kiss on his lips. “Let’s go home, Cole.”

…

Ding.

The seatbelt signs were finally switched off. Cole pulled off his headphones and grabbed a blanket to cover himself with - another attempt at sleep.

The first class pods they'd been given for the flight back were an unexpected luxury. But for Cole, they were a necessity. He needed to stretch out so that he could comfortably doze off. As the lights dimmed for the darker portion of the flight, he started the process of willing himself to fall asleep.

Lili was in the pod next to him. Looking at her, his heart was full. Who knew what would come out of the conversation they had earlier? All he knew was that there was a shift in the air between them. Neither of them had any idea what the next year would bring, but he’d at least told her what she now meant to him. And that was a step in the right direction.

He was startled when he looked up and saw that she'd left her seat. He didn't expect to see her when he turned back around. Or for her to yank off his blanket so suddenly (“Hey, my security!” he half-yelled. Camila gave them both a funny look before shrugging and getting back to her magazine). Or to sit herself in his lap, bury her head on his chest, and pull the blanket back over them. He gave her a bemused look.

“Alright. Are we really doing this?”

Lili smirked. “Sure, fuck it. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He smiled when he recognised the line - it was his. It was from their conversation at Debby’s place, when he first told her how he felt for her.

“Seriously though, Lils, this can't be comfortable for you. I mean, it's a big pod, but how do you expect --”

“Just shut up and close your eyes, Cole.”

He smiled at that. He loved it when she bossed him around. Slowly but surely, he felt his limbs getting heavy and his eyelids drooping with fatigue. Having her there really made all the difference. He relaxed, and soon all the anxiety that had tightened his body earlier was now slowly melting away in her warmth.

His last lucid thought before surrendering to rest was this: right up there in the air, hovering somewhere between New York and Vancouver, he felt at peace. And as he looked down at Lili snoozing in his arms (he envied her ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime so quickly), he knew that it was all because of her. This was all that he needed. She was all that he needed.

They were hours away from any city he had ever lived in, but Cole knew the truth: he was finally home.

#sprousehart #sprousehart fanfiction #sprousehart fanfic #riverdale rpf #coming home #mine

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