Fic - Inside These Arms
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing/Characters: Trisha/Hoenheim, Alphonse
Content Advisory: General audiences
Words: 250
Summary: It's not just the baby that keeps her up at night. Ficlet, originally written for fma_fic_contest.
She says if I leave before you darling
Don't you waste me in the ground
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Alphonse comes off her breast with a contented sigh and Trisha shifts him slightly and pulls her nightdress closed again. It's barely autumn but the house is draughty at the best of times. She paces across the floor at the foot of the bed with him as Hohenheim lets out an occasional snore.
He sleeps like a log. It was something she'd been glad to discover the first night they spent together, two weeks after he told her everything, that there's grace enough in the world for that. Curled up on his side he looks just like Edward asleep in the next room.
Trisha boosts Alphonse up to rest against her shoulder, cradling her palm around the back of his neck, and he yawns and tangles a hand in her hair. She hadn't intended to get pregnant again so quickly, but she can't regret it now with him warm and heavy against her body, full of that new-baby smell. He still looks like her grandfather, his namesake, but his wispy hair is golden.
Hohenheim rolls over with a huff and she turns to look at him, the moonlight streaming through the curtains and across his face. He looked no different when she met him ten years ago, when she was still a child herself. Trisha lets her cheek rest against soft baby skin. They will find a way. She needs this like the sky, like the air moving around her. She can feel Alphonse's tiny, trembling heartbeat under her hand.
Pairing/Characters: Trisha/Hoenheim, Alphonse
Content Advisory: General audiences
Words: 250
Summary: It's not just the baby that keeps her up at night. Ficlet, originally written for fma_fic_contest.
She says if I leave before you darling
Don't you waste me in the ground
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Alphonse comes off her breast with a contented sigh and Trisha shifts him slightly and pulls her nightdress closed again. It's barely autumn but the house is draughty at the best of times. She paces across the floor at the foot of the bed with him as Hohenheim lets out an occasional snore.
He sleeps like a log. It was something she'd been glad to discover the first night they spent together, two weeks after he told her everything, that there's grace enough in the world for that. Curled up on his side he looks just like Edward asleep in the next room.
Trisha boosts Alphonse up to rest against her shoulder, cradling her palm around the back of his neck, and he yawns and tangles a hand in her hair. She hadn't intended to get pregnant again so quickly, but she can't regret it now with him warm and heavy against her body, full of that new-baby smell. He still looks like her grandfather, his namesake, but his wispy hair is golden.
Hohenheim rolls over with a huff and she turns to look at him, the moonlight streaming through the curtains and across his face. He looked no different when she met him ten years ago, when she was still a child herself. Trisha lets her cheek rest against soft baby skin. They will find a way. She needs this like the sky, like the air moving around her. She can feel Alphonse's tiny, trembling heartbeat under her hand.