FMA: "Accept No" 1/1 (Litte Things 'verse)
Title: Accept No
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Author: evil_little_dog
Characters: Ling, Alphonse, mentions of Edward and Winry (and Ed/Winry)
Words: 734
Rating: Gen
Summary: Taking care of a sick Elric is a thankless job.
Warnings: 108 compliant. Written for my “Little Things” ‘verse.
Disclaimer: Dear Arakawa-sensei - my birthday is in just a few days. You’d really love to make me happy, right?
X X X
Stomping into the royal library, Ling threw himself into the chair so hard, it slid an arm’s length across the floor. “I do not know what he wants! I try to help but he turns away.” Jaw jutting he turned to Alphonse. “How do you deal with your brother when he’s like this?”
Looking up from the scroll on the table in front of him, Al said, “I don’t. Well.” He shrugged. “I didn’t. Brother didn’t get sick very much when we were traveling. Hurt, yes. Sick?” Shaking his head, Al was obviously unable to come up with a memory of Ed being ill.
“But,” he went on, and his tone was different, quieter, more solemn, “I never took care of Ed, anyway. I wasn’t the one who patched him up, or sat with him after we tried to bring Mom back. Or after his automail surgery.” He raised his eyes to meet Ling’s.
“He wants Winry.” As Al nodded, Ling thought it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Ed had contracted a fever while they were on the run with Darius and Heinkel. It had been bad enough he’d been delirious for a time. At the points when his fever was highest, Ed talked to Al, sometimes, and once, horrifyingly, a creature born of nightmares that Greed seemed to recognize somehow, but would say nothing more about it, but mostly to Winry.
“Yeah,” Al said, “when Brother was in the hospital, after our first big fight,” the word ‘fight’ sounded more like he meant ‘failure’, “Brother wasn’t really conscious. He asked for Winry a couple of times.” Leaning back in his chair, Al folded his arms, a bittersweet smile on his face. “I couldn’t really tease him about it.”
“Whenever you’re ill, you want what most reminds you of home.” Ling sighed. “There is no way to even get a message to Winry before Ed is no longer sick.”
“No.”
He wasn’t pouting. Emperors didn’t pout, even when they wanted to. “Perhaps I should send him back to Amestris.”
Al snorted. “Not while he’s sick.” There was a faint edge to his words.
Ling gave his friend an, ‘are you kidding’ look. “I suppose,” he said, rubbing his chin, “I could have Daiyu wear a blond wig. I’m sure the actor’s troop has them. It might fool Ed for a little bit and make him more comfortable.”
“Daiyu would probably crawl into bed with him, and that wouldn’t be very comforting. To Ed,” he added, hastily. “She’s pretty, Ling, but Winry’s,” Al fell silent, letting his hands describe a very different figure than Daiyu’s in the air above the table.
“Mm, yes, but Daiyu’s the only woman who will approach him willingly beside Ran Fan.” And they exchanged a look at that, as Ran Fan’s willingness to approach Edward Elric usually involved a blistering argument at the very least.
“And she won’t smell right,” Al went on. “And her hands are all wrong - silky instead of calloused.” He flushed a bit when Ling raised his eyebrows questioningly, but continued ticking off Daiyu’s shortcomings. “And she’s,” the figure he drew in the air this time wasn’t curvy. “You’ll wind up making him crazy, Ling, and it’s bad enough he’s sick.”
With a deep, heavy sigh, Ling cradled his chin in his hands. “I suppose there is no substitute for the real thing, no matter how much you might wish it so.”
Al started rolling up the scroll. “Mei will be here soon, and she’ll heal Brother. And we’ll get to listen to him complain he owes her.”
That was, indeed, something to look forward to, and Ling sighed again, in a different manner. Ed had been taking up far too much of his free time since his arrival from Amestris, and Ling thought, maybe, he’d been neglecting his other guest. The one who wasn’t sick. And wasn’t hopelessly in love with a curvy blond mechanic. “Al, I think we should make some soup for your brother.” At Al’s patently flat, surprised look, Ling waved his hand, “all right, have the cook make some soup for Ed, and you and I will go to the marketplace. There are some herbs good for a fever. What do you say?”
The bright smile was answer enough, and Ling realized he’d missed it, these past few days. Yes, Ed was right, sometimes, there really was no substitute.
X X X
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Author: evil_little_dog
Characters: Ling, Alphonse, mentions of Edward and Winry (and Ed/Winry)
Words: 734
Rating: Gen
Summary: Taking care of a sick Elric is a thankless job.
Warnings: 108 compliant. Written for my “Little Things” ‘verse.
Disclaimer: Dear Arakawa-sensei - my birthday is in just a few days. You’d really love to make me happy, right?
X X X
Stomping into the royal library, Ling threw himself into the chair so hard, it slid an arm’s length across the floor. “I do not know what he wants! I try to help but he turns away.” Jaw jutting he turned to Alphonse. “How do you deal with your brother when he’s like this?”
Looking up from the scroll on the table in front of him, Al said, “I don’t. Well.” He shrugged. “I didn’t. Brother didn’t get sick very much when we were traveling. Hurt, yes. Sick?” Shaking his head, Al was obviously unable to come up with a memory of Ed being ill.
“But,” he went on, and his tone was different, quieter, more solemn, “I never took care of Ed, anyway. I wasn’t the one who patched him up, or sat with him after we tried to bring Mom back. Or after his automail surgery.” He raised his eyes to meet Ling’s.
“He wants Winry.” As Al nodded, Ling thought it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Ed had contracted a fever while they were on the run with Darius and Heinkel. It had been bad enough he’d been delirious for a time. At the points when his fever was highest, Ed talked to Al, sometimes, and once, horrifyingly, a creature born of nightmares that Greed seemed to recognize somehow, but would say nothing more about it, but mostly to Winry.
“Yeah,” Al said, “when Brother was in the hospital, after our first big fight,” the word ‘fight’ sounded more like he meant ‘failure’, “Brother wasn’t really conscious. He asked for Winry a couple of times.” Leaning back in his chair, Al folded his arms, a bittersweet smile on his face. “I couldn’t really tease him about it.”
“Whenever you’re ill, you want what most reminds you of home.” Ling sighed. “There is no way to even get a message to Winry before Ed is no longer sick.”
“No.”
He wasn’t pouting. Emperors didn’t pout, even when they wanted to. “Perhaps I should send him back to Amestris.”
Al snorted. “Not while he’s sick.” There was a faint edge to his words.
Ling gave his friend an, ‘are you kidding’ look. “I suppose,” he said, rubbing his chin, “I could have Daiyu wear a blond wig. I’m sure the actor’s troop has them. It might fool Ed for a little bit and make him more comfortable.”
“Daiyu would probably crawl into bed with him, and that wouldn’t be very comforting. To Ed,” he added, hastily. “She’s pretty, Ling, but Winry’s,” Al fell silent, letting his hands describe a very different figure than Daiyu’s in the air above the table.
“Mm, yes, but Daiyu’s the only woman who will approach him willingly beside Ran Fan.” And they exchanged a look at that, as Ran Fan’s willingness to approach Edward Elric usually involved a blistering argument at the very least.
“And she won’t smell right,” Al went on. “And her hands are all wrong - silky instead of calloused.” He flushed a bit when Ling raised his eyebrows questioningly, but continued ticking off Daiyu’s shortcomings. “And she’s,” the figure he drew in the air this time wasn’t curvy. “You’ll wind up making him crazy, Ling, and it’s bad enough he’s sick.”
With a deep, heavy sigh, Ling cradled his chin in his hands. “I suppose there is no substitute for the real thing, no matter how much you might wish it so.”
Al started rolling up the scroll. “Mei will be here soon, and she’ll heal Brother. And we’ll get to listen to him complain he owes her.”
That was, indeed, something to look forward to, and Ling sighed again, in a different manner. Ed had been taking up far too much of his free time since his arrival from Amestris, and Ling thought, maybe, he’d been neglecting his other guest. The one who wasn’t sick. And wasn’t hopelessly in love with a curvy blond mechanic. “Al, I think we should make some soup for your brother.” At Al’s patently flat, surprised look, Ling waved his hand, “all right, have the cook make some soup for Ed, and you and I will go to the marketplace. There are some herbs good for a fever. What do you say?”
The bright smile was answer enough, and Ling realized he’d missed it, these past few days. Yes, Ed was right, sometimes, there really was no substitute.
X X X