A/N: Hey people! Enjoying the fluff? Great! Well, for Athenaphrodite and because I don't think we've had enough EdWin, here you go!

Kissing Games:

Love and Longevity

Winry glanced over at her husband as they silently ate dinner. She had to bring something up with him, but this was Ed she was thinking of, how was she supposed to bring anything serious up with him? Not that he didn't act serious when he needed to, but she just hated that look he got on his face, like all the pain of all those years just crashes down on him.

Even if it was about something totally unrelated. A cry echoed down the stairs and Ed quickly jumped up to go check on his young son.

Maybe it wasn't totally unrelated.

Ed had surprised her, in more ways than one, since they'd been married. He was surprisingly gentle in all things concerning her, and when she mentioned wanting to have children, it had made him hesitant. They had enough money, they had no fear of being attacked, all in all they lived a good life, but still he had hesitated.

Winry understood why but she wasn't sure she could ever understand the true extent of it. Ed was afraid, like any expecting father should be, but he was afraid for different reasons than most.

The responsibility registered with him, she was sure, but he had taken care of himself and his brother since they were still boys. Another life to watch over was hefty, but really not something he hadn't already faced. No, his fear came from a still burning scar left in the memories of his childhood.

Hohenheim.

His father walking out on their mother, and he didn't see the man again until after his mother had died. He knew that his father had been off trying to save Amestris from the same fate Xerxes had suffered, but that didn't change the fact that he had left him.

It was unforgivable. To be sent on a journey through hell because Hohenheim hadn't been there to stop them, or maybe all they had really needed was someone to comfort them.

Winry had done her best, of course, but there was only so much she could do. The boys had their own ideas, and as Pinako pointed out to her, she couldn't have done anymore than she had, because she blamed herself for what happened to them just as much as they blamed themselves. Not that she came right out and said it. That would just make them mad.

After many drawn out conversations and a few choice arguments, Winry had finally managed to get it through Ed's head: He's not his father.

Everything was perfect for a while (although Ed complained that her mood swings nearly killed him on several occasions), and when the time came to give birth, Winry was totally ready. Initially everything started out fine, it seemed like it would be a perfect birth. She locked eyes with Ed as she watched the slowly growing pride and joy dawn on his face.

Then something went wrong.

Something twisted that shouldn't have or someone did something they shouldn't have… no one knew what went wrong afterwards, all they knew at the time was that Winry was suddenly in intense pain—pain that went beyond just giving birth. She grasped Ed's hand so hard he thought she was going to break it.

Then the doctor and nurses started yelling and panicking, and even though Ed would never admit it now, it was obvious the effect it had on him. He was scared, terrified, mortified at the thought of losing everything dear to him again. How many times did he have to suffer before he could live without fear?

Through a long and scary night, somehow, likely through some miracle, Winry and the baby had both survived to see the next day. Ed had cried in relief, holding back the tears until the doctors had left and the baby had fallen asleep.

It had pained Winry to see him sob like that, look so broken and afraid.

She blamed herself for it, but as he pointed out later, it was no one's fault. Sometimes things like that just happened, unfortunately, but the important thing was they were all three alive and well. A year passed in this fashion, but then Winry thought of something.

She had always wanted a sibling. Ed and Al were the closest she had growing up, and she had seen firsthand the value of having a big brother to count on. So she brought it up with Ed one day, stating her reasons as calmly and surely as possible, but Ed—as predicted—had shut down as soon as he heard the idea.

"No," he cut her off, not waiting for her to finish. "We're not going through that again."

"Ed it was a one-time thing; you can't be afraid it's going to happen every time," she had reasoned.

"How many damn kids do you want?" he growled, slouching on the couch and avoiding her gaze.

"That's not the point," she reasoned. "The point is I want him to at least have one little brother or sister, and I would think you of all people would understand how valuable it is to have a little sibling to watch over."

"It's hard work," he muttered. "And it's not worth it." Winry had wanted so badly to hit him for saying that—imagine how hurt Al would have been if he'd heard his big brother say such things! But she knew, as much as she struggled to understand why he refused.

"Ed you can't let your fear control you like this," she whispered, walking over and taking a seat next to him.

"I'm not afraid," he defended on reflex.

"You are," she insisted. "You're afraid everything's going to happen just like it did last time. You're afraid we're going to leave our son to grow up on his own, just like you had to."

He jolted out of his seat and made to leave the room, not bothering to respond to this. She didn't see him for the rest of the day, but she assumed he had just wanted someplace quiet to think things over. Every time she tried to bring it up, though, he shot her down. It had gotten to the point where he could almost tell when she was going to mention it and made himself scarce.

Now she heard him comforting his son softly, and she waited until he returned a while later to bring it up again. It was senseless for him to be so afraid, and it wasn't like him at all.

"Is he sleeping?" she asked as he returned to his seat.

"Yeah," he answered, smiling gently. "Little guy's totally out of it." Winry felt herself smile in response.

"That's good." They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Winry finished her meal and started to clean up while Ed continued eating his neglected (and probably cold) dinner.

"Hey, Ed," she started. "I've been thinking—."

"If this is about what I think it's about, then you already know my answer," he said quickly, cutting her off.

"You can't be afraid like this forever," she whispered. "How do you explain that to him when he's old enough to understand? Will you tell him you were too afraid and that's why he doesn't have a little brother or sister?"

"He doesn't need to know that's why," Ed growled, refusing to look up at her.

"So you'd rather lie to him?" she whispered. This time Ed did look up, anger brewing in his fierce golden eyes—the same eyes he shared with his own son now.

"I'd be protecting him from the fact that his dad's a coward, how about that?" he demanded, slamming his fist on the table.

"You're not a coward, Ed," Winry placated, struggling to keep a calm tone. "It's okay to be afraid that something could go wrong, but Ed, something could always go wrong. We could be walking one day and just fall over dead for no reason. Just like there wasn't a reason for the complications the first time."

"Yeah something always could—don't you think I of all people would know that?" he shouted, food totally forgotten now. "Why increase the chances?"

"Because you of all people should also know something about risking everything for a better future," she countered, her own voice rising in response. "How would you feel if Al was never born? Do you honestly think you would've made it through everything you did without him?"

"Of course not!" he yelled, jolting out of his seat. "I wouldn't trade Al for the world!"

"So why take that opportunity away from your own son?" she demanded angrily. He hissed, a sharp intake of breath, and turned and walked out. "Where in the world are you going Ed?" she demanded, chasing after him.

"To talk to mom."

She stopped dead in her tracks and watched as he exited the house and made his way down the darkening road. Letting out a sigh, she returned to the kitchen to clean up the remaining dinner mess, and then she made her way upstairs to relax for a little while. No point in chasing after him now.

Groggily she rolled out of bed a few hours later, mentally cursing herself for falling asleep while Ed was out. She had planned on waiting up for him to return. An odd habit of theirs, maybe, but they promised to never fall asleep mad at each other.

However, she quickly realized that she hadn't missed him at all—he hadn't come home yet. She hurried off to the baby's room, but he was sleeping peacefully. Grandma was still in her room, snoring lightly. Winry tip-toed outside and jogged towards the graveyard. It wasn't like Ed to stay out this late, even if he was mad.

She slowed to a walk as she approached the gates, noticing they were still open. She quietly made her way to where they had buried Trisha and Hohenheim both, only to see Ed still sitting there. Had he fallen asleep out here? But as she approached, she could hear his voice as it drifted towards her, a reserved, thoughtful tone to it.

"Dad, I wish you could see him," he whispered. "We named him after you, can you believe that? I named my own son after you, you bastard.

"I wish you could see the way he smiles and gurgles and looks. He has golden eyes, just like you and me and Al. I guess that Xerxes blood is kind of dominate huh? Everyone says he looks a lot like me, but I wonder if they ever said that about you. Al always looked like Mom, so I guess it makes sense. I guess he doesn't look like me so much as he looks like you, huh?

"Winry wants another one, which would be great and all but… What if something happens to her? I don't know shit about raising kids. She doesn't get it, but raising ourselves after Mom died was a lot different than taking care of my own kids.

"You know I still hate you. A lot. But I kind of have to admire your strength, because I think—I know, somewhere deep down, you felt the same sense of obligation I have towards my son. I'll never know how much it hurt you to leave us. Not that it was a good thing—I think it's good you felt a lot of guilt, bastard. But what do I do Dad? How do I tell Winry that I'm not just afraid of the kids or what they'll have to go through…

"I'm afraid of losing her. "

"Ed?" Winry interrupted, causing him to jump, despite the softness of her voice.

"How long have you been standing there?" he grouched, standing up and brushing himself off, back to his usual attitude, although there was something much more forced about it now.

"Long enough," she answered. "I'm not going to leave you, Ed. Not after all that time I spent waiting for you to come home."

"You can't promise that," he whispered. "I believed that once in my life. Once was enough."

"What happened to your mother was horrible—bad luck, really," Winry answered, knowing very well what he was talking about, even without a name. "But we can't live our lives now in fear of what happened yesterday."

"That's easy for you to say," he responded, walking towards her. He had just taken a step pass her when she thought of something—the only way she could think to get through to him.

"You said you were going to talk to your mom," she whispered, turning to see him frozen in his path. "I think the fact that you came up here to talk to your dad says a lot about what you believe. I think it says you're not really so afraid of forgiving the past. So why not try?"

"I talked to Mom first," he answered softly, turning to look at her. "That bastard's about as much help as he was when he was alive, though, so I figured it couldn't hurt anything."

"Ed—?"

"Winry," he interrupted, grabbing her hands in his own. "Look me in the eye and promise you won't leave me." She immediately looked him in the eye, but felt herself pause before she could actually say anything. It was a serious request, not one to be taken lightly, especially not coming from him.

"I will never leave you," she answered at last. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, releasing her hands only to lock her in an embrace. Winry could feel all the tension, the doubt, drain out as they worked their lips together.

"I love you," he whispered. "And that's why I'll try; I won't let my fear deprive my son of something I relied on so much myself."

"No telling it'll be a little brother," she commented, smiling gently at him. "Come on, it's late. Let's go home."