FMA Fic - “The Best Medicine”
Title: The Best Medicine
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Wordcount: 1601
Genre: Fluff
Rating/Warnings: K+
Summary: The Elric brothers deserve fic so fluffy that the only plot events are hugs. XD
Author’s Notes: For tierfal, for the pulped_fictions secret Santa exchange. ♥ You said the only thing you didn’t want was sadfic, so I hope you enjoy fluff powerful enough to be considered a weapon of mass destruction. :D
-
“Ugh,” Ed groans, rubbing at his back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this sore.” The fight and the trip through the Gate took some of the kinks out of his spine, but nothing can make up for being crammed into a ventilation duct for six hours. “It’s a good thing I’m not any bigger, or it would be even- oh no, I just called myself a scrawny little shrimp!”
But then Al laughs, and it’s all right, because anything would be worth this - worth having his little brother’s body back at last. Ed’s done it. His arm and leg are still automail, but that never mattered to him as much. He’s ready to quit while they’re ahead.
“Thank you, Brother,” says Al, impulsively hugging him. “This is the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”
“Christmas isn’t until day after tomorrow,” Ed reminds him, but hugs him back tightly. This is all he wanted, anyway - the chance to feel warm skin instead of cold metal, to hear a laugh that doesn’t echo, to know that Al can feel his big brother hugging him back. He realizes that he’s done it, he’s kept his promise and fixed what he did to Al, and the weight of guilt that lifts off his shoulders is so enormous he feels like he’s floating. He knows it’s not possible, but a childish part of him has always imagined that that millstone around his neck was the thing weighing him down and keeping him from growing as tall as he should. He’s not even sure if he’ll know how to think, or feel, or act, now that it’s gone.
Al is rubbing his back, and Ed realizes in abject horror that he’s crying a little. He hastily thinks of Mustang’s smirk - that usually works to stop tears in their tracks - and straightens up, taking a deep, calming breath.
“Thanks, Al,” he says, smiling faintly. He stretches a little and discovers, to his surprise, that his back has stopped aching. “Wow, your hugs must have magical powers; I don’t feel sore at all now.”
“Glad I could help, Brother,” Al laughs, and they walk out into the snowy street together.
It just figures that they get into trouble the very next day.
“Only you could end up on the wrong end of a four-way alchemy fight on Christmas Eve, Brother,” Al teases gently, but frowns a little as he presses a damp cloth to the bump on Ed’s forehead, his free arm around his brother’s shoulders. “You should be more careful. You should have let me fight.”
“Like hell,” Ed says, cringing as he shifts and pain shoots through his side. “We just got your body back; I’m not risking it.” He does his best to hold perfectly still. “It is going to suck to celebrate Christmas with a broken rib, though.”
“Are you sure it’s broken?” Al asks, concerned. “We haven’t talked to the doctor yet.”
“Yeah, I felt it crack when that bastard kicked me. It’s definitely broken.”
“Oh, Ed. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Ed says, sliding an arm around Al’s waist and letting his head drop onto the younger boy’s shoulder. He yawns and closes his eyes. “That fight wore me out. Wake me up when they need to take the scans, ‘kay?”
“Wake up, Brother.”
Ed blinks blearily and unhappily. “But I didn’t get the chance to go to sleep yet.”
“You’ve been asleep for twenty minutes.” Al’s voice is gentle and amused. “Come on, they’re ready to take the scans of your bones. If there are any breaks or fractures, they’ll be able to pinpoint them when they finish developing the images later today.”
“That rib is definitely fractured,” Ed groans, letting Al help him to his feet. He rubs at his eyes with his automail hand and immediately regrets it, settling for blinking to clear them instead. “Hurts a lot less than earlier, though.”
“Mm, the bump on your head has gone down, too. The nap must have done you good.”
“We’ll see,” Ed says. “Let’s get this over with and get home.”
Actually, as he’s pleased to discover, the medical examination isn’t as bad as he expected, and it’s only an hour or so until they’re back at the little apartment they’ve been renting while in Central. Winry visited the week before and helped them decorate it for Christmas, so it’s cheerful and festive, the lights on the tree glowing softly and the small fireplace painting the rest of the room a warm orange. Ed knows he shouldn’t find it comforting, because it should bring back memories of burning their house down the night they left - but it doesn’t. He has his watch for that, and the worst memory the bright little blaze in the grate summons up is that of Mustang threatening to singe Ed’s braid off if he has to read one more property damage report.
Speaking of Mustang, Ed has a ‘gift’ to finish rigging up for him before the big Christmas party at Central Headquarters tomorrow. And to ensure he’ll forgive them for it, Al even insisted that they get him a real gift, too, one which is already wrapped and sitting with the small pile intended for their other friends.
Al helps him work on it, only stopping to cook dinner, then to drag Ed away from his project so they can eat dinner, then, finally, to answer the phone when the hospital calls back with the results of the scans.
“Good news!” he says brightly, reentering the room and pausing to admire Ed’s just-finished work. “The tests came back, and they said nothing’s broken after all!”
Ed blinks. “That’s impossible. I felt one of my ribs snap.” In response, Al shrugs.
“I don’t know. You did hit your head pretty hard; maybe you were imagining it? At any rate, even though you seem to be all right, you should get some sleep now that you’re done working on that.”
“Let’s wait until the fire burns down,” Ed suggests, and Al readily comes to join him on the couch and crawl under the blanket with him. “I’m too cold to get up. Mm, you’re really warm.” He cuddles up to Al, who yelps and then laughs, shifting his legs away.
“I hope that was your metal foot, Ed; it’s freezing!”
“I told you I was cold! And I’m telling you that my rib was broken earlier - something funny’s going on here. All the other scrapes and bruises disappeared, too.”
“How?” asks Al, twisting to evade the cold foot that Ed is trying to warm up against him. “Injuries don’t heal in just a few hours, especially not when one of them is a fractured rib. And it can’t have been some kind of strange alchemic reaction, because we didn’t do any alchemy in between when we took you to the hospital and when the scans were taken. All you did was fall asleep on me.”
“Something must have happened while I was asleep, then,” says Ed, trying to tuck his foot in between Al’s shins and pouting when it’s kicked away. “It’s like yesterday, when all the kinks in my muscles went away while I was hugging you. Wait, maybe that’s it! You had your arm around me while I was asleep; you must have some kind of healing power!”
“That’s even more ridiculous than your theories about toxic chemicals in milk,” Al says. He pauses for a stern look and gives a cry of betrayal when a freezing foot is inserted between his leg and the couch.
“It makes perfect sense,” Ed protests, fighting back as Al grabs his ankle and tries to shove it away. “You were part of an incredibly powerful alchemic reaction when we got your body back. What of some of the leftover energy spilled over into you and gave you the power to hug people’s injuries away?”
“You must have hit your head harder than I thought, Brother.”
“Don’t call your older brother crazy!” Ed protests, ending the wrestling match by tackling Al to the sofa. The younger boy may always win their sparring matches, but now that he’s in a human body, Ed has the weight of automail on his side, and Al gives up after a few moments, laughing and out of breath.
“Go to sleep,” he advises, pulling the blanket over both of them and apparently deciding that Ed’s shoulder makes a good pillow. By the time Ed remembers that Al always used to drool on his pillows, the boy in question has already dozed off and it’s far too late.
“You’d just better not kick things in your sleep as much as you did when we were kids,” he warns, settling in with a yawn. It’s nice, though, because the two of them and sometimes Winry always used to crawl into each other’s beds and sleeping bags and blanket forts, until their mother and Granny Pinako got used to finding piles of sleeping children. It feels like they’re kids again, staying up late to meet Santa Claus and then dozing off in front of the fire. It feels… normal.
For what feels like the first time in years, Ed falls asleep peacefully.
When he wakes up, he registers three things:
Al’s arms are still wrapped around him.
There is drool all over his shoulder. God damn it.
His automail limbs have fallen off, because his real arm and leg appear to have grown back.
“Um, Al,” says Ed, after blinking at them dazedly for a moment. “Wake up. About that magical power of yours…”
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Wordcount: 1601
Genre: Fluff
Rating/Warnings: K+
Summary: The Elric brothers deserve fic so fluffy that the only plot events are hugs. XD
Author’s Notes: For tierfal, for the pulped_fictions secret Santa exchange. ♥ You said the only thing you didn’t want was sadfic, so I hope you enjoy fluff powerful enough to be considered a weapon of mass destruction. :D
-
“Ugh,” Ed groans, rubbing at his back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this sore.” The fight and the trip through the Gate took some of the kinks out of his spine, but nothing can make up for being crammed into a ventilation duct for six hours. “It’s a good thing I’m not any bigger, or it would be even- oh no, I just called myself a scrawny little shrimp!”
But then Al laughs, and it’s all right, because anything would be worth this - worth having his little brother’s body back at last. Ed’s done it. His arm and leg are still automail, but that never mattered to him as much. He’s ready to quit while they’re ahead.
“Thank you, Brother,” says Al, impulsively hugging him. “This is the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”
“Christmas isn’t until day after tomorrow,” Ed reminds him, but hugs him back tightly. This is all he wanted, anyway - the chance to feel warm skin instead of cold metal, to hear a laugh that doesn’t echo, to know that Al can feel his big brother hugging him back. He realizes that he’s done it, he’s kept his promise and fixed what he did to Al, and the weight of guilt that lifts off his shoulders is so enormous he feels like he’s floating. He knows it’s not possible, but a childish part of him has always imagined that that millstone around his neck was the thing weighing him down and keeping him from growing as tall as he should. He’s not even sure if he’ll know how to think, or feel, or act, now that it’s gone.
Al is rubbing his back, and Ed realizes in abject horror that he’s crying a little. He hastily thinks of Mustang’s smirk - that usually works to stop tears in their tracks - and straightens up, taking a deep, calming breath.
“Thanks, Al,” he says, smiling faintly. He stretches a little and discovers, to his surprise, that his back has stopped aching. “Wow, your hugs must have magical powers; I don’t feel sore at all now.”
“Glad I could help, Brother,” Al laughs, and they walk out into the snowy street together.
It just figures that they get into trouble the very next day.
“Only you could end up on the wrong end of a four-way alchemy fight on Christmas Eve, Brother,” Al teases gently, but frowns a little as he presses a damp cloth to the bump on Ed’s forehead, his free arm around his brother’s shoulders. “You should be more careful. You should have let me fight.”
“Like hell,” Ed says, cringing as he shifts and pain shoots through his side. “We just got your body back; I’m not risking it.” He does his best to hold perfectly still. “It is going to suck to celebrate Christmas with a broken rib, though.”
“Are you sure it’s broken?” Al asks, concerned. “We haven’t talked to the doctor yet.”
“Yeah, I felt it crack when that bastard kicked me. It’s definitely broken.”
“Oh, Ed. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Ed says, sliding an arm around Al’s waist and letting his head drop onto the younger boy’s shoulder. He yawns and closes his eyes. “That fight wore me out. Wake me up when they need to take the scans, ‘kay?”
“Wake up, Brother.”
Ed blinks blearily and unhappily. “But I didn’t get the chance to go to sleep yet.”
“You’ve been asleep for twenty minutes.” Al’s voice is gentle and amused. “Come on, they’re ready to take the scans of your bones. If there are any breaks or fractures, they’ll be able to pinpoint them when they finish developing the images later today.”
“That rib is definitely fractured,” Ed groans, letting Al help him to his feet. He rubs at his eyes with his automail hand and immediately regrets it, settling for blinking to clear them instead. “Hurts a lot less than earlier, though.”
“Mm, the bump on your head has gone down, too. The nap must have done you good.”
“We’ll see,” Ed says. “Let’s get this over with and get home.”
Actually, as he’s pleased to discover, the medical examination isn’t as bad as he expected, and it’s only an hour or so until they’re back at the little apartment they’ve been renting while in Central. Winry visited the week before and helped them decorate it for Christmas, so it’s cheerful and festive, the lights on the tree glowing softly and the small fireplace painting the rest of the room a warm orange. Ed knows he shouldn’t find it comforting, because it should bring back memories of burning their house down the night they left - but it doesn’t. He has his watch for that, and the worst memory the bright little blaze in the grate summons up is that of Mustang threatening to singe Ed’s braid off if he has to read one more property damage report.
Speaking of Mustang, Ed has a ‘gift’ to finish rigging up for him before the big Christmas party at Central Headquarters tomorrow. And to ensure he’ll forgive them for it, Al even insisted that they get him a real gift, too, one which is already wrapped and sitting with the small pile intended for their other friends.
Al helps him work on it, only stopping to cook dinner, then to drag Ed away from his project so they can eat dinner, then, finally, to answer the phone when the hospital calls back with the results of the scans.
“Good news!” he says brightly, reentering the room and pausing to admire Ed’s just-finished work. “The tests came back, and they said nothing’s broken after all!”
Ed blinks. “That’s impossible. I felt one of my ribs snap.” In response, Al shrugs.
“I don’t know. You did hit your head pretty hard; maybe you were imagining it? At any rate, even though you seem to be all right, you should get some sleep now that you’re done working on that.”
“Let’s wait until the fire burns down,” Ed suggests, and Al readily comes to join him on the couch and crawl under the blanket with him. “I’m too cold to get up. Mm, you’re really warm.” He cuddles up to Al, who yelps and then laughs, shifting his legs away.
“I hope that was your metal foot, Ed; it’s freezing!”
“I told you I was cold! And I’m telling you that my rib was broken earlier - something funny’s going on here. All the other scrapes and bruises disappeared, too.”
“How?” asks Al, twisting to evade the cold foot that Ed is trying to warm up against him. “Injuries don’t heal in just a few hours, especially not when one of them is a fractured rib. And it can’t have been some kind of strange alchemic reaction, because we didn’t do any alchemy in between when we took you to the hospital and when the scans were taken. All you did was fall asleep on me.”
“Something must have happened while I was asleep, then,” says Ed, trying to tuck his foot in between Al’s shins and pouting when it’s kicked away. “It’s like yesterday, when all the kinks in my muscles went away while I was hugging you. Wait, maybe that’s it! You had your arm around me while I was asleep; you must have some kind of healing power!”
“That’s even more ridiculous than your theories about toxic chemicals in milk,” Al says. He pauses for a stern look and gives a cry of betrayal when a freezing foot is inserted between his leg and the couch.
“It makes perfect sense,” Ed protests, fighting back as Al grabs his ankle and tries to shove it away. “You were part of an incredibly powerful alchemic reaction when we got your body back. What of some of the leftover energy spilled over into you and gave you the power to hug people’s injuries away?”
“You must have hit your head harder than I thought, Brother.”
“Don’t call your older brother crazy!” Ed protests, ending the wrestling match by tackling Al to the sofa. The younger boy may always win their sparring matches, but now that he’s in a human body, Ed has the weight of automail on his side, and Al gives up after a few moments, laughing and out of breath.
“Go to sleep,” he advises, pulling the blanket over both of them and apparently deciding that Ed’s shoulder makes a good pillow. By the time Ed remembers that Al always used to drool on his pillows, the boy in question has already dozed off and it’s far too late.
“You’d just better not kick things in your sleep as much as you did when we were kids,” he warns, settling in with a yawn. It’s nice, though, because the two of them and sometimes Winry always used to crawl into each other’s beds and sleeping bags and blanket forts, until their mother and Granny Pinako got used to finding piles of sleeping children. It feels like they’re kids again, staying up late to meet Santa Claus and then dozing off in front of the fire. It feels… normal.
For what feels like the first time in years, Ed falls asleep peacefully.
When he wakes up, he registers three things:
Al’s arms are still wrapped around him.
There is drool all over his shoulder. God damn it.
His automail limbs have fallen off, because his real arm and leg appear to have grown back.
“Um, Al,” says Ed, after blinking at them dazedly for a moment. “Wake up. About that magical power of yours…”