For Her. For Him.

A/N: No, I am not a machine. Honest truth, I write all day at work, so I'm used to writing stories pretty quickly. Also, I have had a review that said they thought the babies being named Riza and Maes was overdone and lame. I did it to make Roy feel like crap, and I'm not absolutely sold on keeping those the names of the babies, so if anyone wants to weigh in their vote on Maes and Riza as the babies, let me know. Also, this chapter involves a little Msolo, but it is not intnded to be a sexy scene, so don't yell at me about it.

Chapter 11

How Long

Ed sat on the train in his sleeper, trying to gather the pieces that were left of his pride. He was such a moron for crying like that. It was bad enough that the colonel had to see it, but to know that all the soldiers had seen him blubbering like that was absolutely humiliating. He knew he would never hear the end of it, even if it was mistaken as continued grieving for Hawkeye, which he still did in quiet moments alone.

Ed was in a private sleeper, something he received thanks to some strings pulled on Mustang’s part. If anyone had told Ed the dark-haired man was capable of such acts of consideration and kindness, the teen would likely have laughed in their face. Of course, if anyone would have told him he’d be thinking about the colonel when he was soon to come face-to-face with someone using his arm and leg, he would have told them it was absolute bullshit.

Trying to regain some focus, Ed grabbed the newspaper he’d bought at the depot, skimming through articles on war, the fuhrer’s latest party, a night of remembrance of the anniversary of Isabel. Ed flipped the entertainment page, reading over the latest movies to hit the big screen, when he heard the newlyweds in the sleeper beside him. He’d been on the train for a day now and hated the couple beside him, though he’d never seen their faces.

As he’d resigned himself to for the last 26 hours, he merely moved to his bed, his own cock gaining some life just knowing what was about to happen. He heard the moaning and pulled his pants down to his ankles, not even bothering to take off his shoes. With his right hand, he reached under his pillows, finding the lotion he decided just to keep on the bed after their fist go, an hour into the train ride.

“Mmm…” a rich baritone that bordered on bass said through the wall. “So good.”

As Ed squirted a small amount of lotion on his left hand, he cursed the husband on the other side for being the damned noisy one. He deposited the lotion back under the pillow, keeping the automail arm there. The two going at it like rabbits kicked off the newfound horny streak in the teen, and he was going to be chafed enough without bringing the metal hand into play.

“Oh, more, more,” the baritone moaned as Ed began to move his hand, trying to just get the deed done and out of his system without bringing fantasy into it. When it was practiced and methodical, he got off, mostly satisfied, and could do so quietly. The moment his mind took over, the silence he’d relied on with Al constantly in the room awake, disappeared. When his brain got involved, he started moaning and writhing like a cheap whore.

Unfortunately for Ed, he’d already denied his imagination’s participation twice that day, and it wasn’t about to stay ringside for another performance. It was forming a picture in his head, whether he liked it or not, and the man on the other side of the wall only fueled it on.

“You look so hot like that. You are gorgeous. Do you know that?” Ed shook his head, biting his lower lip. “I want to feel you around me. I want to hear you scream my name.” Ed’s hand moved faster over his leaking phallus. “Do you want me?”

Ed released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“Do you want me in you right now?”

Ed nodded, moving his hips off the bed, as though someone was laying between the splayed limbs. The man began to moan, his low voice rumbling through the wall. Why couldn’t he have been an overly deep bass or have a high tenor tone? Why that smooth, low but not incredibly low voice saying such awfully bad things to try and get his wife in the mood, nearly spoiling his own?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ed whispered, eyes shut, his right hand grasping at the pillow behind him as the left continued his work. He could hear the woman’s gasp as her husband entered her, but for the most part, Ed ignored it.

“Still so tight.” There was a moan. “So good.” Then the grunting began, steady with the squeaking of the springs on the other side of the wall. Ed moved his hand and hips in time with each thrusting grunt. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

Ed’s face flushed a deep crimson as sweat poured down his forehead. His own completion came a few moments after as the right hand pulled his pillow from beneath his head, then held it over his face muffling the scream of the name he wanted no one to hear who, combined with the voice, had fueled his lust.

Thankfully for Ed, the man in the other room never lasted too long, working perfectly for his own purposes, as the teen was usually hot and ready, though it did cross the mind that this incredible speed could be the reason the woman was never as vocal as her husband.

********

In a train an hour ahead of Ed’s, Mustang sat, rereading a stack of papers that under normal circumstances would have made perfect sense. Today, though, no strategy, no plan seemed to complete itself in his mind. He knew he needed to focus, or it would mean the lives of his men, but try as he might, his mind was elsewhere, an hour back on a train very near a stop at a depot in Duluth. His mind was with his children and with the blond alchemist.

He felt a rather large thump as Breda sat down beside him. “Having trouble focusing, Colonel?”

“I’m just trying to find the right strategy for finding Scar without a lot of bloodshed. It’s been enough years since Ishbal. I won’t have another one.”

Then, Mustang heard a small explosion from the hall, and a stream of curses from outside.

“Breda, what did you do?”

“Do you know, Falman is a fairly young-looking guy? Just thought I’d take care of that gray hair for him.”
Mustang rubbed his brows. He heard a few doors open before his own cabin did, with a furious Falman poking a soot-covered head through his door.

“Is that son of a-- There you are!” Breda got a look at Falman and began laughing hysterically. “You think this is funny?”

“I think it is very funny.”

“Warrant Officer, Falman, you are making a mess.” Roy took his most serious tone.

“It isn’t my fault. Blame Breda.”

“I do blame Breda, but he is not the one making a sooty mess of my cabin.” Mustang had been staring at the papers for so long, he actually resorted to pulling out the pair of reading glasses he kept for when his eyes got exceptionally tired. Putting on the frameless glasses, he looked over the paperwork again.

“Colonel, are you okay?” Falman said, not stepping entirely into the cabin.

“I’m fine.”

Breda laced his fingers as he rested his elbows on his knees. “If you need to talk to anyone, you know you’ve got a lot of friends here?” Mustang nodded as he continued to flip through the papers. “We all miss her, and if you need to talk, we’re here, you know.” Again Mustang nodded, turning to Breda and Falman, lowering the spectacles.

“I’ve just had a lot in my mind lately.” He looked out the window for a moment at the passing scenery.

Riza. How long had it been since he’d thought of her? An entire day? Two?

********

When Ed stepped off of the train, he could easily spot the giant suit of armor standing amidst the crowd. Hauling a suitcase beside him, Ed stepped onto the platform and walked toward his brother, an unconscious smile spreading across his face.

“Ed!” Al said, waving to get his older brother’s attention, as though he didn’t already have it.

When Ed reached the armor, he noticed his little brother backing away. “You aren’t really going to transmute me into a tin can, are you?”

“Of course not.” Al grabbed the suitcase from Ed’s hand. “Come on, we need to get to Teacher’s.” Al looked down at Ed. “Oh, I should have gotten someone to drive us there.”

Ed put his hands in pockets of his tan corduroy pants. “I’m not that far gone, Al. I can manage the walk.”

“First of all, Ed, I want you to know that I’m not mad at you. I’m going to be really happy to be an uncle, and I knew I was being an idiot about the time I was sitting on the train. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. If you were still that upset about this, you wouldn’t have called me every single day.” He fiddled with the watch in his pocket, a brief moment thinking of the man who had first presented it to him.

“Brother, I didn’t tell you everything over the phone. I was afraid Colonel Mustang wouldn’t let you go if he thought things might be too dangerous.” Ed said nothing, but looked up at his brother with curiosity. “The child, the boy, he has a similar ability to you.” With suitcase still in hand, he made a gesture to clap his hands together. “He doesn’t have to clap his hands like you, but no circle, and he doesn’t use other objects. He changes himself.”

It was vague enough that no one around them could have probably guessed what they were talking about, but Ed knew well enough. The rest of the walk, they talked about meaningless things, the weather, their health.
“Ed, when you see him, what are you going to do? If those really are your arm and leg…”

“I’ve had time to think about that since your call on Thursday.” Almost against his will, the all-to-familiar blush came to his face. “Among other things.” Ed cleared his throat as they stood at the door to his teacher’s house. “I can’t very well rip them off of the boy, can I? And there is something I need to confirm when I see him, something I remember from beyond the gate.” Ed rubbed his left arm. “I don’t know it it’s been the food I’ve been eating or if it’s them.” He looked down at his stomach. “But I’ve been having a number strange dreams lately, and I’m sure they’re from the gate.”

Ed knocked on the door, finding Sig opening it. He greeted Ed warmly, and stepped aside, revealing Izumi sitting on the kitchen chair, a young boy on her lap, curled up very possessively. The boy turned around, wary blue eyes boring into Ed’s.