I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters. I just knock up their male characters. :3

AN: So...

--looks around guiltily--

The inspiration for this came from absolutely nowhere, but I've decided that this is probably one of the most worthwhile things I've EVER done. And YES, this is GreKim (as usual) M-Preg (WHUT?!). So, if you like this kind of thing, feel free to continue. If not, don't. It's no skin off my nose. And please, PLEASE, no flaming. Whining is not an option.

BUT if you DO happen to read this, and LIKE it, I would love it if you reviewed so that I know to post more. If I get no reviews, then I don't know to continue or not.

This first chapter is a little... risque, but believe me, it gets sappier as it goes. XD

So, to anyone reading, please enjoy, and I LOVE reviews!! --winkwink--

Month 1, Day 1

"Ugh."

Greed sat up slowly, running a shaking hand through his hair and over the surfaces of his bare neck and shoulders.

Damn, it felt as though he had been smashed over the head with a leaden brick.

Peering casually out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Crimson Alchemist breathing softly, rhythmically, amidst his peaceful slumber.

He grinned at the memory of the previous night, fingers fumbling over the bedside table and lifting one of the scattered cigarettes to his lips and lighting up.

Though his head pounded irritably in his ears, he really had no complaints. Breathing in the smoke, he smiled happily.

Feeling hands sliding over his torso, the Ultimate Shield glanced over once more to see Zolf Kimbley had joined his side, smirk upon his lips.

"You gunna give me some of that?" he asked, running a finger curiously down Greed's neck.

"I thought you didn't smoke?" the sin questioned, unnerved and aware of the weapons working themselves over his body.

"I do now that you've been inside me," Kimbley retorted, snapping the cigarette from the Homunculus's unsuspecting fingers, giving something of a sexy grin.

"Nnn, your ass hurt?" Greed inquired, leaning in to nip at Kimbley's deliciously exposed shoulder.

The Crimson Alchemist shuddered with a small nod, bringing the cigarette to his lips to take a puff.

Greed snatched it away with a grin, though, all while saying, "Ah-ah, none for you. You need to stay healthy for me," followed up by a deep drag of smoke.

"What the Hell are you talking about?" the alchemist questioned, attempting to snatch back the death-stick but managing nothing besides looking like an uncoordinated idiot.

"Oh, no reason. I just don't fancy the thought of you hacking and wheezing your life away," Greed answered coyly, taking yet another drag as if to flaunt his superiority.

But Kimbley knew better. That damn freak always had an ulterior motive to all his doings, no matter how sweet the intention appeared.

For now, though, the Crimson Alchemist decided to be content with thinking Greed might actually be concerned for his well-being.

…For now.

Kimbley sat alone in the parlor, gripping a mug of coffee with a shaking hand. Greed had barred him from alcohol, smoking, and any out-right Hellishness for reasons untold. And it didn't help that Kimbley felt that he was suddenly… Expanding? Rapidly gaining weight? In all honesty, circumstances were not exactly in his favor.

The door creaked open and the alchemist glared sideways to see the Homunculus stroll in, arms ringed around what appeared to be anorexic whores, one in each.

Kimbley shuddered.

Whores.

Ugh.

Greed removed one of his arms to de-shade his eyes, his shark-like teeth breaking into a smile.

"Kimmy-darling, you look unwell. Is something the matter?"

The Crimson Alchemist cringed at the nickname, and one of the whores giggled, earning her an "I'll-blow-you-up-later-bitch" glare, which immediately shut her up.

Kimmy-darling?

"Nothing's the matter, honey," Kimbley replied, gripping the mug and taking another dainty sip. Hell no, he wasn't afraid of giving Greed a little venom. It wasn't as though the freak would actually do anything about it.

The Homunculus chuckled, working his way from the girls to sashay his way toward the disgruntled man in the corner.

Kneeling down eye-to-eye with Kimbley, the sin inquired softly, "Please, will you tell me what's wrong?"

The alchemist was on the borderline of gasping. Greed said the "p-word?" Scandalous!

But Kimbley decided to give that freak the answer he wanted.

"My head is pounding, I feel like shit, and I'm swelling up like a balloon."

"Awe, baby…" Greed cooed, running a finger through Kimbley's loosened hair (he had been much too nauseous to really do anything with it) before turning back to the whores and barking at them to scram.

Obviously, he was just as fond of them as the ex-prisoner was.

Greed immediately reverted back to a mollified disposition, once they had scampered out, asking sweetly, "Anything I can do for you?"

"…Gimme a cigarette."

The sin, rolling his eyes, stood back up.

"Ask again in about eight months, maybe."

…Eight months…?

Kimbley gripped the mug tighter and took a nervous sip, then thought to question the Homunculus, but he had long since exited.