it's colder than it looks outside
Every time I watch episodes 11 and 12, I want to write something like this. I finally did ^_^
the title: Guilty Face
the fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
the pairing: Vercio/Elisa
the warning: loli, het
the word count: 472
the spoilers: none, really.
the rating: PG13
He always wears his guilty face when he's with me. Ever since Papa yelled at him, that is. Papa doesn't understand at all.
Somedays I work in the mines, because he tells me it's okay, but every day I don't, I go to his house to visit. He doesn't go outside much anymore. When I convinced him to take me to the park one day, people glanced at him while trying too look like they weren't and whispered into each other's ears. He looked so sad that day that I haven't asked him to play outside since.
Usually when I visit him I help him to farm lemons. They're for Papa, of course. I think that, maybe, if he did something nice for Papa, Papa wouldn't hate him anymore.
He comes running in to see if I'm okay, on the day that the strangers save me, carrying the lemons as almost an afterthought. But still, Papa yells, and I start coughing. He leaves the basket on the table and leaves.
I go to see him the next day, and the liars are at his house. One leaves on his own, and he sends the other to get my medicine. That way, he doesn't have to go outside himself.
He makes me breakfast, and we eat it together. He's a great cook, but Papa's better and I tell him so. It makes him laugh, and I'm happy to see the guilty look go away, even if it's only briefly.
I cough, and he sends me to bed, I protest, but he insists. I fight back, starting the tickle fight. After all, tickle fights are the only sensible way to settle disputes. We wrestle on the bed, and he pushes my dress up in an effort to better attack my sides. He's winning, but only because my arms are too short to reach him. He pulls the dress over my head and I dodge in while he's unguarded to get his kneecaps. He has really ticklish kneecaps.
Another coughing fit takes place, and his guilty look returns twofold. He dresses me in a pretty nightdress he bought me, and sends me back to bed. I protest again, weakly this time, and he tells me I'll never get better if I don't rest and kisses me on the mouth.
Papa doesn't like to be kissed on the mouth. When I told him who'd taught me to do it that way, he'd gotten really angry, and that was the first time he'd yelled. That was when the whispering started and when Papa told me I couldn't come out to play anymore.
I don't kiss Papa on the mouth anymore.
I stare out the window at the grape tree, and see that it's dying. I cry for it, and he strokes my hair until I fall asleep.
the title: Guilty Face
the fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
the pairing: Vercio/Elisa
the warning: loli, het
the word count: 472
the spoilers: none, really.
the rating: PG13
He always wears his guilty face when he's with me. Ever since Papa yelled at him, that is. Papa doesn't understand at all.
Somedays I work in the mines, because he tells me it's okay, but every day I don't, I go to his house to visit. He doesn't go outside much anymore. When I convinced him to take me to the park one day, people glanced at him while trying too look like they weren't and whispered into each other's ears. He looked so sad that day that I haven't asked him to play outside since.
Usually when I visit him I help him to farm lemons. They're for Papa, of course. I think that, maybe, if he did something nice for Papa, Papa wouldn't hate him anymore.
He comes running in to see if I'm okay, on the day that the strangers save me, carrying the lemons as almost an afterthought. But still, Papa yells, and I start coughing. He leaves the basket on the table and leaves.
I go to see him the next day, and the liars are at his house. One leaves on his own, and he sends the other to get my medicine. That way, he doesn't have to go outside himself.
He makes me breakfast, and we eat it together. He's a great cook, but Papa's better and I tell him so. It makes him laugh, and I'm happy to see the guilty look go away, even if it's only briefly.
I cough, and he sends me to bed, I protest, but he insists. I fight back, starting the tickle fight. After all, tickle fights are the only sensible way to settle disputes. We wrestle on the bed, and he pushes my dress up in an effort to better attack my sides. He's winning, but only because my arms are too short to reach him. He pulls the dress over my head and I dodge in while he's unguarded to get his kneecaps. He has really ticklish kneecaps.
Another coughing fit takes place, and his guilty look returns twofold. He dresses me in a pretty nightdress he bought me, and sends me back to bed. I protest again, weakly this time, and he tells me I'll never get better if I don't rest and kisses me on the mouth.
Papa doesn't like to be kissed on the mouth. When I told him who'd taught me to do it that way, he'd gotten really angry, and that was the first time he'd yelled. That was when the whispering started and when Papa told me I couldn't come out to play anymore.
I don't kiss Papa on the mouth anymore.
I stare out the window at the grape tree, and see that it's dying. I cry for it, and he strokes my hair until I fall asleep.