(no subject)
Title: Nomad
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: alter!Lust/alter!Scar
Rating: G
Spoilers: Well, they're alters, so movie spoilers.
Word Count: 441
Notes: A (het!) drabble for snarky_kat who was feeling bummed out. And nobody wants to see a sad, droopy-eared kitten. Hope you're feeling happier, love. ;_; *squeeze*
She had grown to hate the sight of the road before them. It was always there, winding, rising, falling, never straight enough to see what was coming.
This would have been unbearable, with any other traveling companions. But the girls in the back kept it lively, lighter than it should have felt. In these dangerous times, a simple song could make all the difference. And there was, of course, always the man steering the cart.
It had taken only a few weeks for her to move from the cart with the girls to up front beside him. It was bumpier up front and he made her hold the reigns, but she didn't mind. She was never really the singing type, anyway, and she liked his company. He was quiet and hoarded smiles like gold, but when he gave one - one precious, rare smile cutting across his dark gypsy face - she could forget that they were running away.
When he would make a rare joke - Where would the lady like to go today? - she would smile softly, offering up her curved lips more frequently to joy, and she could forget for the briefest of moments exactly the kind of trouble they were in. It could be worse. It could always be worse. And with this man beside her, it was never as bad as it could be.
One day, while the girls bathed in a river, crystalline laughter rising up through the treetops, she leant against a trunk with him. They talked about nothing of consequence, not where they came from, or where they planned to end up, or what would happen if they ran into trouble. He told her stories, and he was quite the masterful storyteller, his deep voice rising with passion, lowering with tension and when he caught her watching his eyes, he blushed.
She smiled a sly smile and pointed with a delicately nailed finger at an imaginary bird she claimed to see hopping around from limb to limb and she rested a hand on his knee. He tensed, she could feel his muscles gather into knots and she squeezed. The girls laughed and splashed, began singing a song and like this - just like - under the tree, side by side, touching for the first time, she could pretend that he was simply her traveling companion and they were on holiday.
She distracted him again - an interesting cloud this time - and let her lips slide against his cheek.
Because someday their travels would be over and before the ugly took hold, she wanted to enjoy the beautiful.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: alter!Lust/alter!Scar
Rating: G
Spoilers: Well, they're alters, so movie spoilers.
Word Count: 441
Notes: A (het!) drabble for snarky_kat who was feeling bummed out. And nobody wants to see a sad, droopy-eared kitten. Hope you're feeling happier, love. ;_; *squeeze*
She had grown to hate the sight of the road before them. It was always there, winding, rising, falling, never straight enough to see what was coming.
This would have been unbearable, with any other traveling companions. But the girls in the back kept it lively, lighter than it should have felt. In these dangerous times, a simple song could make all the difference. And there was, of course, always the man steering the cart.
It had taken only a few weeks for her to move from the cart with the girls to up front beside him. It was bumpier up front and he made her hold the reigns, but she didn't mind. She was never really the singing type, anyway, and she liked his company. He was quiet and hoarded smiles like gold, but when he gave one - one precious, rare smile cutting across his dark gypsy face - she could forget that they were running away.
When he would make a rare joke - Where would the lady like to go today? - she would smile softly, offering up her curved lips more frequently to joy, and she could forget for the briefest of moments exactly the kind of trouble they were in. It could be worse. It could always be worse. And with this man beside her, it was never as bad as it could be.
One day, while the girls bathed in a river, crystalline laughter rising up through the treetops, she leant against a trunk with him. They talked about nothing of consequence, not where they came from, or where they planned to end up, or what would happen if they ran into trouble. He told her stories, and he was quite the masterful storyteller, his deep voice rising with passion, lowering with tension and when he caught her watching his eyes, he blushed.
She smiled a sly smile and pointed with a delicately nailed finger at an imaginary bird she claimed to see hopping around from limb to limb and she rested a hand on his knee. He tensed, she could feel his muscles gather into knots and she squeezed. The girls laughed and splashed, began singing a song and like this - just like - under the tree, side by side, touching for the first time, she could pretend that he was simply her traveling companion and they were on holiday.
She distracted him again - an interesting cloud this time - and let her lips slide against his cheek.
Because someday their travels would be over and before the ugly took hold, she wanted to enjoy the beautiful.