Comments | lucetilogs: There’s many who’ll tell you they’ll give you their love, but when they say "give" they mean "take."

momnapplepie in lucetilogs

There’s many who’ll tell you they’ll give you their love, but when they say "give" they mean "take."

Nov 19, 2011 21:49

Who: hogsphonelines, momnapplepie
What: A conversation after Elicia falls asleep
When: BACKDATED to the night of Maes' return, November 10th
Where: Their living room
Summary: Sometimes, love isn't simple.
Rating: PG
( 'Cause a ring don’t mean nothing if you can’t haul the weight
And some of them won’t even try,
But I won’t leave you high and dry. )

[fullmetal alchemist] gracia hughes, [fullmetal alchemist] maes hughes

Comments 15

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delicious, delicious tl;dr momnapplepie November 20 2011, 03:53:52 UTC

Gracia intended to go to the bathroom. She could shut the door behind her and run the water, and no one would know if she was laughing or crying or quietly staring and waiting to figure out if this was just a dream. But she never made it that far. Only a few steps away from the door, and the weight is too much. She wants to run back inside to make sure that they're both still there. She can't live like this.

Her hands found the back of the sofa and she is clutching the cushions there with a white-knuckled grip, willing herself to refrain from running back into the bedroom when the door quietly opens and closes behind her. She smooths her expression to calm and mild concern, she wouldn't want to worry Elicia, before turning to see who was at the door. It is too late, however, to do anything about that anchoring, intense grip on the sofa which only tightens when she sees who it is. Her heart leaps up into her throat at the familiar sleep-tousled sight. Her voice is low, "I didn't mean to wake you."

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momnapplepie November 20 2011, 04:42:22 UTC

She can feel his touch through her robe and gown, warm and familiar. He'd done as much countless times. It made her want to step close and melt into him. He'd always had the ability to slip past all her defenses. She knew that he would again, she could see him working at it as surely as she could make out the flecks of green in his eyes, but this time she wondered if she should keep resisting: she was scared of what he'd find once he was there in the barren, aching places of her heart.

Her grip flexes on the sofa once more before she releases it and moves to the side, the new position not moving away from him, but encourages his hand to either shift to her hip or - hopefully - drop while enabling her to face him. "It's been a full day."

Her hand flexes with the desire to reach up and smooth some of his hair away from his forehead, with the desire to touch him and her self-control lasts all of a heartbeat before she does just that, moving a few strands to the side as she studies his face, reinforcing the etching on her memory. ( ... )

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