Unborn World - Chapter 2
Title: Unborn World
Chapter: Things You Don't Have (2/7)
Previous: Ch1
Characters/Pairings: Ed/Winry, Trisha/Hohenheim, Alphonse, Izumi.
Wordcount: 1,611
Series: FMA1 base (@ Ep51), but is a "what if", which makes it strange and AU...
Summary: What if these weren't times you never got...
Author's Note: Aparently I didn't have anything to do at work yesterday... don't tell the monkeys that though.
Chapter 2 - Times You Never Got
What if these weren't times you never got…
Alphonse's nose twitched. It tweaked to the left and then the right, before his nostrils flared and sucked in the air; the warm arouma of breakfast flooded in. Al's eyes fluttered around beneath the anvils of his eyelids, and the young man smacked his lips together - loud and emphatic. He picked his head up off the kitchen table and began to rub the blur out of his eyes.
"Dad," the youngest son began, "I don't think breakfast is going to fix the fact I've been up for most of the last 26 hours."
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It'll give you energy," Hohenheim stuck a fork in a buttermilk pancake and swung it over to his boy, "if you aren't going to listen to your mother and I and have a nap, at least eat something…" the old man tipped his head with a frown, "and be glad you're not your brother. I don't think he slept all week."
Al shuddered at the notion, taking the pancake with his fingers, rather than presenting his plate, "He's a basket case on a good day," the youngest son eyed the warning look his father gave him for the finger food. Like no crime of manners had been committed, Al casually put his piece of breakfast onto a white porcelain plate, "I never want to put up with him like that again. Next kid he decides to have, I'm showing up after it's born."
The Elric father laughed. His utensils were placed down on the stove without clatter and Hohenheim moved from his work to his youngest son. A hefty arm wrapped under the young man's chin, and he pulled his tired son's gaze up to him as Al dumped his head into his father's side, "You are a very good, supportive brother. Don't forget that about yourself. Edward needs you to keep from falling apart entirely."
"I think he'd be in a million pieces on the floor if he didn't have me!" Alphonse announced through a yawn as Hohenheim moved back to the stove and Al's head rolled away. Tipping his chair, Al reached out and pulled a dish rag off the handle of a drawer, "Ugh, the last time I saw the sun set and rise again, I was working on my thesis. I didn't want to do an all-nighter again for at least three months… and it's only been ten days," he folded the rag in half, and in half again, and laid it out on the table, "I may never sleep like a normal person again after this," his head dropped sharply to the side as his father put a hot plate down on the folded rag.
"Just keep telling yourself it's for a good cause," Hohenheim smirked, looking proudly at his spread of breakfast plates on the table. He put the cooking tongs down next to his son's hand and watched Al give a lazy eye to the choices - bacon, sausage links, scrambled eggs, hash browns, the fattest single waffle Hohenheim may have ever made, and a pile of buttermilk pancakes. The fat waffle was untouchable - it was for his stubborn eldest son, who wouldn't eat the pancakes on principal. Trisha loved them though, and Hohenheim added a jar of maple syrup to the collection. The father nodded to himself, "That's enough for six people I think…"
"Seven," Alphonse corrected his father, "there's a squishy baby sleeping on my brother's chest."
The father gave a wise nod, "Indeed, but the baby will dine with its mother."
With a thoughtful eye to his father's culinary creations, Al lazily reached out and collected two plates, "How's new-mom doing?" he asked, pulling his backside out of the wooden chair and drawing up to his feet.
"Izumi says she'll be fine. That woman always seems to know what she's talking about, so I'm not about to argue with her," Hohenheim cocked an eyebrow at the thought of attempting to argue with Izumi. When the topics were about life and not alchemy, he was destined to lose.
Al couldn't withhold the grin he flashed at his father, "That's Mrs. Curtis for you. She's awesome."
"Yes, and I'm constantly reminded of this," Hohenheim rubbed the back of his neck absently, "and thank you again for letting her boy room with you for a few days in Central while you were busy with your thesis, Alphonse."
"Oh stop that, Dad," Al waved his hand absently, "that was nothing. He took care of himself, I just gave him somewhere to sleep during the Prospects Tour," at that Alphonse paused, and narrowed his eyes. His tongue ran across his teeth as he thought, before throwing a sly look over to his father and setting the plates down, "you know, you cooould look over my thesis and give me your input."
Hohenheim frowned, "I think you're smart enough to know how your own thesis is coming."
Drawing on a trick the boy must have learnt from his mother, Alphonse widened his eyes, pulled his brow down, tightened his lips and jaw, and looked sincerely... and a little pleadingly... to his father, "Please Dad?"
Hohenheim slid his eyes to the side and gave his attention to tidying up the counter of Edward's kitchen, "You are too old for that face, Alphonse Elric."
The corners of Al's mouth fell to a childish pout, "Please Dad?"
With a sigh, Al received 'that look' from above the rim of Hohenheim's glasses. The youngest son didn't falter against the 'look' and continued to stare back at his father. Al's lower lip popped out foolishly and he lightened the pitch in his voice.
"Please Father? You always help me with my homework."
Hohenheim choked on a laugh. Technically, that had been true... "But this is a thesis, young man. I've had enough input into your work as it is, and your name is already on one of my collaborations. Ask your brother. Edward is more than capable."
Al scoffed at the suggestion playfully, "Right... Father Basket-Case is going to be thinking straight enough to help me while his baby cries and he flails around the house in a panic."
A thoughtful little glimmer struck Hohenheim's eye as he composed a mental storyboard of his eldest son over the next few months. His hand swept over his face to forcefully hide the smirk at the composition, and he returned to cleaning, "Perhaps Edward won't be the best choice," Hohenheim shook his head, "but did you actually get your thesis done after all that work over the new year?"
"Mostly, it's not due until April though," Alphonse leaned over the table of breakfast fixings and began distributing food among two plates, "I hit a stride two weeks ago and just didn't want to lose it. That's why I was so busy. I got six solid theories going that'll add elements to the periodic table, and I've been working on trials for proving them," even when tired, Alphonse could bubble with excitement over his work, "it's going to be spectacular when I finish it."
A narrow golden eye cast over the excited son, "Don't forget who you're crediting for establishing the credentials on four of those theories, young man."
"Yes, yes, yes. I know," Alphonse waved his finger through the air.
"If I end up being known as Alphonse Elric's father instead of you being known as my son, I'll disown you," the father teased, ruffling the boys hair, "Now go, feed people. I'll clean up in here."
Snatching up the plates of warm food, Alphonse Elric rolled away from his father with a smirk, "Yes, Gran'dad."
Bemused golden eyes shone over his son's back at the comment, "Alphonse..." Hohenheim called.
The young man looked back.
"We'll see about your thesis," his father stated.
Turning from the kitchen and into the remainder of the house, Alphonse grinned, knowing he was one pout, one pleading look, one strategic sigh, or one giant bear hug away from getting his dad to read the thesis. Al snickered at himself and rolled his head around on his neck, catching a reflection in the corner of his eye on a round mirror in the hallway as he passed it.
Alphonse stopped dead, nearly dropping his plates.
The younger Elric brother shuffled back two steps and looked at his reflection in the mirror in the pre-dawn morning. He had the ugliest dark circles under his eyes and his hair desperately needed a comb. Al opened his mouth wide and tried to stretch the bedraggled look out of his face. His teeth clamped back together and Al continued to look at his reflection. He made a face at himself, and it only seemed to make the wretchedly tired reflection look worse.
But that wasn't why he'd gone back to the mirror. Al searched through his tired jumble of memories for what had startled him so much that he'd stopped to double checked his reflection. Something hadn't been right in the mirror, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what.
Al shook his head, and looked down to the plates in his hands. He turned away and continued towards his mother and brother. The corner of Al's eye once again saw something else in the unfocussed reflection of his passing. It was too deep in the fringes of his focus to have any shape... too trapped in the fuzzy haze of the corners of sight to be seen clearly.
Despite how Alphonse felt he should know something about what he was missing, he ignored it.
Obviously, Al was overtired.
To Be Continued...
A/N: Slow day at work yesterday gave me time to work on this :) nicely unexpected.
Chapter: Things You Don't Have (2/7)
Previous: Ch1
Characters/Pairings: Ed/Winry, Trisha/Hohenheim, Alphonse, Izumi.
Wordcount: 1,611
Series: FMA1 base (@ Ep51), but is a "what if", which makes it strange and AU...
Summary: What if these weren't times you never got...
Author's Note: Aparently I didn't have anything to do at work yesterday... don't tell the monkeys that though.
Chapter 2 - Times You Never Got
What if these weren't times you never got…
Alphonse's nose twitched. It tweaked to the left and then the right, before his nostrils flared and sucked in the air; the warm arouma of breakfast flooded in. Al's eyes fluttered around beneath the anvils of his eyelids, and the young man smacked his lips together - loud and emphatic. He picked his head up off the kitchen table and began to rub the blur out of his eyes.
"Dad," the youngest son began, "I don't think breakfast is going to fix the fact I've been up for most of the last 26 hours."
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It'll give you energy," Hohenheim stuck a fork in a buttermilk pancake and swung it over to his boy, "if you aren't going to listen to your mother and I and have a nap, at least eat something…" the old man tipped his head with a frown, "and be glad you're not your brother. I don't think he slept all week."
Al shuddered at the notion, taking the pancake with his fingers, rather than presenting his plate, "He's a basket case on a good day," the youngest son eyed the warning look his father gave him for the finger food. Like no crime of manners had been committed, Al casually put his piece of breakfast onto a white porcelain plate, "I never want to put up with him like that again. Next kid he decides to have, I'm showing up after it's born."
The Elric father laughed. His utensils were placed down on the stove without clatter and Hohenheim moved from his work to his youngest son. A hefty arm wrapped under the young man's chin, and he pulled his tired son's gaze up to him as Al dumped his head into his father's side, "You are a very good, supportive brother. Don't forget that about yourself. Edward needs you to keep from falling apart entirely."
"I think he'd be in a million pieces on the floor if he didn't have me!" Alphonse announced through a yawn as Hohenheim moved back to the stove and Al's head rolled away. Tipping his chair, Al reached out and pulled a dish rag off the handle of a drawer, "Ugh, the last time I saw the sun set and rise again, I was working on my thesis. I didn't want to do an all-nighter again for at least three months… and it's only been ten days," he folded the rag in half, and in half again, and laid it out on the table, "I may never sleep like a normal person again after this," his head dropped sharply to the side as his father put a hot plate down on the folded rag.
"Just keep telling yourself it's for a good cause," Hohenheim smirked, looking proudly at his spread of breakfast plates on the table. He put the cooking tongs down next to his son's hand and watched Al give a lazy eye to the choices - bacon, sausage links, scrambled eggs, hash browns, the fattest single waffle Hohenheim may have ever made, and a pile of buttermilk pancakes. The fat waffle was untouchable - it was for his stubborn eldest son, who wouldn't eat the pancakes on principal. Trisha loved them though, and Hohenheim added a jar of maple syrup to the collection. The father nodded to himself, "That's enough for six people I think…"
"Seven," Alphonse corrected his father, "there's a squishy baby sleeping on my brother's chest."
The father gave a wise nod, "Indeed, but the baby will dine with its mother."
With a thoughtful eye to his father's culinary creations, Al lazily reached out and collected two plates, "How's new-mom doing?" he asked, pulling his backside out of the wooden chair and drawing up to his feet.
"Izumi says she'll be fine. That woman always seems to know what she's talking about, so I'm not about to argue with her," Hohenheim cocked an eyebrow at the thought of attempting to argue with Izumi. When the topics were about life and not alchemy, he was destined to lose.
Al couldn't withhold the grin he flashed at his father, "That's Mrs. Curtis for you. She's awesome."
"Yes, and I'm constantly reminded of this," Hohenheim rubbed the back of his neck absently, "and thank you again for letting her boy room with you for a few days in Central while you were busy with your thesis, Alphonse."
"Oh stop that, Dad," Al waved his hand absently, "that was nothing. He took care of himself, I just gave him somewhere to sleep during the Prospects Tour," at that Alphonse paused, and narrowed his eyes. His tongue ran across his teeth as he thought, before throwing a sly look over to his father and setting the plates down, "you know, you cooould look over my thesis and give me your input."
Hohenheim frowned, "I think you're smart enough to know how your own thesis is coming."
Drawing on a trick the boy must have learnt from his mother, Alphonse widened his eyes, pulled his brow down, tightened his lips and jaw, and looked sincerely... and a little pleadingly... to his father, "Please Dad?"
Hohenheim slid his eyes to the side and gave his attention to tidying up the counter of Edward's kitchen, "You are too old for that face, Alphonse Elric."
The corners of Al's mouth fell to a childish pout, "Please Dad?"
With a sigh, Al received 'that look' from above the rim of Hohenheim's glasses. The youngest son didn't falter against the 'look' and continued to stare back at his father. Al's lower lip popped out foolishly and he lightened the pitch in his voice.
"Please Father? You always help me with my homework."
Hohenheim choked on a laugh. Technically, that had been true... "But this is a thesis, young man. I've had enough input into your work as it is, and your name is already on one of my collaborations. Ask your brother. Edward is more than capable."
Al scoffed at the suggestion playfully, "Right... Father Basket-Case is going to be thinking straight enough to help me while his baby cries and he flails around the house in a panic."
A thoughtful little glimmer struck Hohenheim's eye as he composed a mental storyboard of his eldest son over the next few months. His hand swept over his face to forcefully hide the smirk at the composition, and he returned to cleaning, "Perhaps Edward won't be the best choice," Hohenheim shook his head, "but did you actually get your thesis done after all that work over the new year?"
"Mostly, it's not due until April though," Alphonse leaned over the table of breakfast fixings and began distributing food among two plates, "I hit a stride two weeks ago and just didn't want to lose it. That's why I was so busy. I got six solid theories going that'll add elements to the periodic table, and I've been working on trials for proving them," even when tired, Alphonse could bubble with excitement over his work, "it's going to be spectacular when I finish it."
A narrow golden eye cast over the excited son, "Don't forget who you're crediting for establishing the credentials on four of those theories, young man."
"Yes, yes, yes. I know," Alphonse waved his finger through the air.
"If I end up being known as Alphonse Elric's father instead of you being known as my son, I'll disown you," the father teased, ruffling the boys hair, "Now go, feed people. I'll clean up in here."
Snatching up the plates of warm food, Alphonse Elric rolled away from his father with a smirk, "Yes, Gran'dad."
Bemused golden eyes shone over his son's back at the comment, "Alphonse..." Hohenheim called.
The young man looked back.
"We'll see about your thesis," his father stated.
Turning from the kitchen and into the remainder of the house, Alphonse grinned, knowing he was one pout, one pleading look, one strategic sigh, or one giant bear hug away from getting his dad to read the thesis. Al snickered at himself and rolled his head around on his neck, catching a reflection in the corner of his eye on a round mirror in the hallway as he passed it.
Alphonse stopped dead, nearly dropping his plates.
The younger Elric brother shuffled back two steps and looked at his reflection in the mirror in the pre-dawn morning. He had the ugliest dark circles under his eyes and his hair desperately needed a comb. Al opened his mouth wide and tried to stretch the bedraggled look out of his face. His teeth clamped back together and Al continued to look at his reflection. He made a face at himself, and it only seemed to make the wretchedly tired reflection look worse.
But that wasn't why he'd gone back to the mirror. Al searched through his tired jumble of memories for what had startled him so much that he'd stopped to double checked his reflection. Something hadn't been right in the mirror, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what.
Al shook his head, and looked down to the plates in his hands. He turned away and continued towards his mother and brother. The corner of Al's eye once again saw something else in the unfocussed reflection of his passing. It was too deep in the fringes of his focus to have any shape... too trapped in the fuzzy haze of the corners of sight to be seen clearly.
Despite how Alphonse felt he should know something about what he was missing, he ignored it.
Obviously, Al was overtired.
To Be Continued...
A/N: Slow day at work yesterday gave me time to work on this :) nicely unexpected.