A birthday present for Elena or theysangastheyslew over on tumblr! Nothing but fluff here. Maybe a touch of angst.

"A man becomes a father when his child is born."

Roy Mustang hears it so many times it becomes a litany in his head, like a song or a hymn beating over and over until he can feel the words etched into skull. He had asked himself if his facial expression was exclusively marked with worry and concern that even strangers on the street had chanted it to him.

In retrospect, Roy probably had harbored self-doubt – something so completely out of character for him – that, somehow, he'd see the kid after all this time and feel nothing. After all, is it possible to feel a connection with something you've never seen?

That had been his worst fear. Roy would fret over the possibilities that the sins of his past, or the karma, or the chi, or the flow, or the Truth would come back to pass the judgement his peers would not. To him, it had explained why he felt a fleeting wave of panic before he felt joy when they first found out; why he had become paranoid – rushing Riza to doctor's appointments keeping tabs and taking notes, becoming overbearing with questions, being overactive in every movement, every hiccup, every contraction; and the reason he spent late hours into the night reading texts, plunging headfirst over topics in obstetrics, and straining his eyes until they burned hotter than the fever that kept him awake.

It wasn't like he was completely oblivious. He had been aware enough throughout the years to pick up what not to do: like not being an emotionally negligent father or a physically absent one for that matter; to not involve their kid in alchemy for his own gain; or create seven homunculus and have them address you as "Father". Granted, these were very specific lessons for very specific cases and Roy knows that, but lamentably, the only one who could truly show him the meaning of being a real, caring father… couldn't be there. And for today, he'd keep those melancholy thoughts at bay.

Roy stares out the window, towards the sunlight poking through the clouds after an unforgiving night of rain, and recognizes now the saying was a comfort. Not an omen or an order. He understands that the anxiety and the fear was never meant to be placated by knowledge and textbooks, but by the painfully simple act of seeing him for the first time.

In his arms, a newborn stirs in his sleep. He's beautiful and new and there's a familiar mess of black hair poking out from under the cotton cap covering his crown. His round face is still pink from his passage through the birth canal just hours before and an impossibly small hand is wrapped around Roy's index finger. He gets a hunch that under those blushed eyelids there will be brown colored eyes flecked with gold that would stare back at him.

"Have you thought of a name?" is said behind him and effectively pulls him from his thoughts.

Roy turns. His wife is smiling sleepily, a mound of pillows comfortably propping her on the hospital bed. Blonde hair unkempt, she looks exhausted, yet exquisitely beautiful all the same when he approaches the side of her bed and kisses her forehead. "You should be resting," he playfully reproaches.

"And miss out on Roy Mustang's theatrics as he stares broodingly out the window, then lovingly upon his newborn son? Not a chance. Fatherhood looks far too good on you." He grins at her, feeling silly and proud, but she smiles back with soft adoration. She taps her hand on the bed and he takes the cue to sit.

"You know, I was really convinced it was going to be a girl."

"Oh?" She asks, adjusting herself under the blankets. "Why is that?"

He shrugs gently, "Old wives tales."

"I wasn't aware you were keeping up with old wives tales." She sounds amused and appears as much with her brow perked and arms crossed, "Care to elaborate, dear husband?"

"You were carrying him higher, craving sweets." He absent-mindedly rocks the infant when he fussed, and sheepishly admits: "…and I did the ring test while you were asleep." Curiosity was overpowering during a long night where she rested her head on his lap.

"And it swung side to side?"

"Actually, it made an oval and it was 0500 hours; I didn't know what to think."

Riza chuckles, covering her mouth though she makes no sound. Marrying her fingers over her lap, she says, "Well, a deal's a deal. You get to name him and he can't stay "Baby Mustang" forever. What will it be?"

Roy thumbs over the infant's cheek and "baby soft" gains a literal meaning. "It's so permanent; it'll be stuck with him forever."

"He'll be stuck with you forever," she teases with the slightest lift of her lip forming a smirk.

"Yes, you're right. Sorry about that, Baby Mustang."

"Surely you've had some names in mind?"

He ponders for a moment into the middle distance. "Maybe Michael or Adam. Mmm, Ethan – or Sergio like the Aeruognian prince. Or even all four – would you like that Michael Adam Ethan Sergio Mustang?"

Her brow flattens with a knowing look.

"What, none of them to your liking?"

She leans back. "You can name him whatever you'd like."

"I know."

"Including the name you're really thinking off."

Roy regards his resting son, admiring the little nub of a nose and the lashes that fanned over his full cheeks. "I couldn't burden him with such a name."

Riza scooches in closer to them and gently brushes their son's hair to the side. "It won't be a burden-" she says softly, kissing the top of his head, "-will it, Maes?"

Still deep in slumber, the infant stretches, smacking his lips leisurely, and smiles to himself. In that instant, warmth and awe and elation radiates within from the miracle born of them both. A love so unconditional that it was useless to have even worried about it in the first place.

"I think he likes it," Riza whispers.

His cheeks ache and it begins to rain. "I think so too."