Fullmetal Alchemist, "The Insult," Ed/Russel, PG-13
This story was written over the summer while I was in DC with my students. If memory serves, goldphish_bowl was depressed about something, so I wrote it for her and posted it to my private journal, then totally forgot about it.
Well, tonight I'm struggling like you wouldn't believe to get the rest of the 20_inkspots stories finished (I have three left, but zero interested readers, it's uber-depressing), so I'll post this up to cheer myself up and (hopefully) make the muses want to cooperate with me.
This doesn't fulfill shit for anything, inkspot challenges or otherwise. I don't care, really.
*gloom*
The Insult
by Mistr3ss Quickly
It was Heymans Breda who first introduced The Insult into the Elric brothers' sphere of influence, but no one blamed him because he'd not done it intentionally. Really, the look on Jean Havoc's face, upon first hearing The Insult, was well worth the nasty side-effect of Edward overhearing it and storing it away for future use.
And besides. No one in Central knew that Edward had overheard it, anyway, because Edward wasn't in Central when he tried it out, the first time.
He was in Xenotime. Fighting with his lover.
~*~*~*~
The fight that debuted The Insult wasn't even a real fight, so far as Ed or Russel could tell. A real fight would be more like the fight they'd had the first night they met, the kind that left them both out of breath and bruised and furious and sulking. It wasn't even a semi-real fight, like the fight they had only three hours into becoming an official couple, the kind of fight that left them both out of breath and horny and jealous and too damn proud to just kiss and make up.
Instead, this fight was more of what one might call a cockfight. A battle of egos, moreso than wits.
The original cause of the fight (Edward trying to get Russel to suck him off, hidden amongst the lemon trees, while Russel was doing his best to coax Edward back to his room for the same sort of activity) had long been forgotten by the lovers, tempers and egos and good old fashioned male pride having obscured logic and reason and purpose early on.
"Oh yeah?" said Russel, when Edward called him a treehugger, having run out of more appropriate insults. "Well you're a metalhead."
"That's stupid," said Edward. "Damn dirty dirt-worshipper."
"Dickhead," said Russel.
"Butt-munch," said Edward.
"Cock-sucker," said Russel.
Edward glared at him. "So're you," he said.
Russel blushed. "Better than you at it, though," he said.
"Yeah?" said Edward. "Well so's your mom."
They both froze. The Insult hung between them like a fog, thick and suffocating.
"What did you just say?" said Russel, looming over Edward.
"Nothin'," said Edward, scowling up at Russel.
They sulked at each other for a moment, tense and wary, until the sound of the back door slamming open startled them out of their stand-off, Nash's voice breaking their stare-down.
"Did you call for me, Russel?" he said. "I thought I ... ah. Ahem. Hi Edward."
Edward stared. Russel gaped. Nash smiled sheepishly.
"I was on my way out with John," he explained, plucking at the skirt of the long dress he wore, the bodice of which sat askew on his broad shoulders, as though someone's hands other than his own had been in it, recently. "I'll, um ... I'll be going, then."
Then he ducked back into the house, leaving his son to groan and blush, his son's lover laughing nervously, toeing at the ground.
"Hey Russ?" said Edward, after enough time had passed that he could be certain that Russel wasn't going to run off and dig a hole to hide in. "What were we fighting about?"
Russel shook his head. "I dunno," he said.
"Good," said Edward. "Then let's stop. Don't want your m-dad to have to, uh, yell at us again."
Russel swiped at him, smacking him hard enough to leave a mark, and growled for him to shut the hell up already.
Ed, in a bigger gesture of love than he'd ever given his lover, before, didn't even try to dodge.
~*~*~*~
The Insult became a regular part of their arguments, from that point on.
Nash, however, never stumbled into another one again, for all the long years of his life.
Well, tonight I'm struggling like you wouldn't believe to get the rest of the 20_inkspots stories finished (I have three left, but zero interested readers, it's uber-depressing), so I'll post this up to cheer myself up and (hopefully) make the muses want to cooperate with me.
This doesn't fulfill shit for anything, inkspot challenges or otherwise. I don't care, really.
*gloom*
The Insult
by Mistr3ss Quickly
It was Heymans Breda who first introduced The Insult into the Elric brothers' sphere of influence, but no one blamed him because he'd not done it intentionally. Really, the look on Jean Havoc's face, upon first hearing The Insult, was well worth the nasty side-effect of Edward overhearing it and storing it away for future use.
And besides. No one in Central knew that Edward had overheard it, anyway, because Edward wasn't in Central when he tried it out, the first time.
He was in Xenotime. Fighting with his lover.
~*~*~*~
The fight that debuted The Insult wasn't even a real fight, so far as Ed or Russel could tell. A real fight would be more like the fight they'd had the first night they met, the kind that left them both out of breath and bruised and furious and sulking. It wasn't even a semi-real fight, like the fight they had only three hours into becoming an official couple, the kind of fight that left them both out of breath and horny and jealous and too damn proud to just kiss and make up.
Instead, this fight was more of what one might call a cockfight. A battle of egos, moreso than wits.
The original cause of the fight (Edward trying to get Russel to suck him off, hidden amongst the lemon trees, while Russel was doing his best to coax Edward back to his room for the same sort of activity) had long been forgotten by the lovers, tempers and egos and good old fashioned male pride having obscured logic and reason and purpose early on.
"Oh yeah?" said Russel, when Edward called him a treehugger, having run out of more appropriate insults. "Well you're a metalhead."
"That's stupid," said Edward. "Damn dirty dirt-worshipper."
"Dickhead," said Russel.
"Butt-munch," said Edward.
"Cock-sucker," said Russel.
Edward glared at him. "So're you," he said.
Russel blushed. "Better than you at it, though," he said.
"Yeah?" said Edward. "Well so's your mom."
They both froze. The Insult hung between them like a fog, thick and suffocating.
"What did you just say?" said Russel, looming over Edward.
"Nothin'," said Edward, scowling up at Russel.
They sulked at each other for a moment, tense and wary, until the sound of the back door slamming open startled them out of their stand-off, Nash's voice breaking their stare-down.
"Did you call for me, Russel?" he said. "I thought I ... ah. Ahem. Hi Edward."
Edward stared. Russel gaped. Nash smiled sheepishly.
"I was on my way out with John," he explained, plucking at the skirt of the long dress he wore, the bodice of which sat askew on his broad shoulders, as though someone's hands other than his own had been in it, recently. "I'll, um ... I'll be going, then."
Then he ducked back into the house, leaving his son to groan and blush, his son's lover laughing nervously, toeing at the ground.
"Hey Russ?" said Edward, after enough time had passed that he could be certain that Russel wasn't going to run off and dig a hole to hide in. "What were we fighting about?"
Russel shook his head. "I dunno," he said.
"Good," said Edward. "Then let's stop. Don't want your m-dad to have to, uh, yell at us again."
Russel swiped at him, smacking him hard enough to leave a mark, and growled for him to shut the hell up already.
Ed, in a bigger gesture of love than he'd ever given his lover, before, didn't even try to dodge.
~*~*~*~
The Insult became a regular part of their arguments, from that point on.
Nash, however, never stumbled into another one again, for all the long years of his life.