FMA -- Softer Than It Looks
Title: Softer Than It Looks
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters: Ed and Al
Rating: G
Word Count: 453
Warnings: fluff!
Prompt: a stray kitten
Summary: Al will be getting the groceries for the rest of eternity.
Author's Note: For powdered_opium. ♥
SOFTER THAN IT LOOKS
A spunky little gold fuzzhead is severely trying Ed’s patience.
He would get a knowing look from Al for that-that much is certain, although whether the import would be You should feel some solidarity with spunky little fuzzheads or What patience is that, Brother? is a toss-up. In either case, it is unbelievably unfair that Al can convey so much with a pointed look when he doesn’t have any eyes.
“I mean it, you mangy little fleabag,” Ed says.
The kitten blinks up at him and meows loudly.
“Stop following me,” Ed says, trying to sound as menacing as possible. “I’ve had enough of that from the mass-murderers and the inhuman monsters; I’m not putting up with it from a plague-carrier, too.”
The kitten stares at him and then meows again, even louder.
“Shut up!” Ed says. “The good people of this town are trying to get some rest, and here you are, yowling the night away. Al’s getting the groceries next time, I’ll tell you that.”
He’s never seen a kitten pout before.
Frowning back, he crouches down and points his left finger in its admittedly fairly adorable face.
“Look,” he says, “I don’t have any cat food, and I’m not in a position to babysit. Sorry. Okay? Now go-”
The kitten pushes its head at his palm and purrs.
“Wh-you-” Ed twists his hand away, but the kitten rubs its head at his wrist instead. It’s a warm little fur-bucket, and softer than it looks.
“Damn it,” Ed says. He pets it a couple times and scratches behind its oversized ears. It makes a happy mewing noise, but this close, he can feel that it’s shivering. “Damn it,” he says.
“Did you find everything you-”
Al stops when he sees the cat perched on Ed’s right shoulder, swaying slightly with his stride. The kitten’s such a proud surveyor of his territory-and such a vocal commentator on what he surveys-that Ed is considering calling him Mustang.
“Ah,” Al says, and Ed can tell that he’s smirking even though he doesn’t have a moving mouth.
“Shut up,” Ed says. “It’s going to rain.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Al says.
“You don’t have to,” Ed mutters. As he deposits the groceries on the table in their room, Mustang kneads at the edge of his skin near the automail and noses at his neck. “Don’t you get smart with me, whisker-face,” he says, “or you’re going right back out there.”
“You would never do that, Brother,” Al says warmly. It’s true, first of all; and more than that, it’s just kind of amazing that Al can be so profoundly loving when he doesn’t have a heart.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters: Ed and Al
Rating: G
Word Count: 453
Warnings: fluff!
Prompt: a stray kitten
Summary: Al will be getting the groceries for the rest of eternity.
Author's Note: For powdered_opium. ♥
SOFTER THAN IT LOOKS
A spunky little gold fuzzhead is severely trying Ed’s patience.
He would get a knowing look from Al for that-that much is certain, although whether the import would be You should feel some solidarity with spunky little fuzzheads or What patience is that, Brother? is a toss-up. In either case, it is unbelievably unfair that Al can convey so much with a pointed look when he doesn’t have any eyes.
“I mean it, you mangy little fleabag,” Ed says.
The kitten blinks up at him and meows loudly.
“Stop following me,” Ed says, trying to sound as menacing as possible. “I’ve had enough of that from the mass-murderers and the inhuman monsters; I’m not putting up with it from a plague-carrier, too.”
The kitten stares at him and then meows again, even louder.
“Shut up!” Ed says. “The good people of this town are trying to get some rest, and here you are, yowling the night away. Al’s getting the groceries next time, I’ll tell you that.”
He’s never seen a kitten pout before.
Frowning back, he crouches down and points his left finger in its admittedly fairly adorable face.
“Look,” he says, “I don’t have any cat food, and I’m not in a position to babysit. Sorry. Okay? Now go-”
The kitten pushes its head at his palm and purrs.
“Wh-you-” Ed twists his hand away, but the kitten rubs its head at his wrist instead. It’s a warm little fur-bucket, and softer than it looks.
“Damn it,” Ed says. He pets it a couple times and scratches behind its oversized ears. It makes a happy mewing noise, but this close, he can feel that it’s shivering. “Damn it,” he says.
“Did you find everything you-”
Al stops when he sees the cat perched on Ed’s right shoulder, swaying slightly with his stride. The kitten’s such a proud surveyor of his territory-and such a vocal commentator on what he surveys-that Ed is considering calling him Mustang.
“Ah,” Al says, and Ed can tell that he’s smirking even though he doesn’t have a moving mouth.
“Shut up,” Ed says. “It’s going to rain.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Al says.
“You don’t have to,” Ed mutters. As he deposits the groceries on the table in their room, Mustang kneads at the edge of his skin near the automail and noses at his neck. “Don’t you get smart with me, whisker-face,” he says, “or you’re going right back out there.”
“You would never do that, Brother,” Al says warmly. It’s true, first of all; and more than that, it’s just kind of amazing that Al can be so profoundly loving when he doesn’t have a heart.