Written for fma_fic contest, Prompt #64, Touching/Touched. Didn't place, but still I rather like it.
Title: Conundrum
Word Count: 966
Summary: He reached up, and grabbed her hand.
Rating: K
Mangaverse
A/N: I kept the name I chose for Mrs. Bradley in my fic 'The Eye of the King'. This story was written because I would bet that this guy wouldn't have easily understood the concept of touch- not in such a familiar way at least.
Thanks as always to please-knock for the beta. Please enjoy and review!
DISCLAIMER: Fanfic writer does not an owner make.
His container had been modified to the age of five. Father could easily change it as the years passed to show an outward sign of growth.
Pride hadn't understood why it had been necessary in the first place. He understood why this container was used- human children were hardly suspects for anything dark- but to force him to act as a small child every hour of the day, under the care of a very human woman that knew nothing of Father or his plans? It seemed ludicrous, but he knew better than to object. Father was a master of planning, and everything would turn out just as he wished, Pride would make sure of that.
Wrath briefed him beforehand, of course.
"You know how to act like a child," He said. "That is all she will be expecting, that you are a child, and that you may grow to love her."
Pride snorted. "She's never met me. How can she expect some kind of attachment to form between us?"
For a moment, the sin for which he was named seemed ready to burst from Wrath, and Pride smirked to himself. That was another reason he had agreed to this- to keep a better watch on Wrath, and the slight hints that suggested his own attachment to the human woman. Wrath had been human once, and had been married to this woman for forty years; in some ways it was hardly surprising, though Pride would have expected better.
"…She is generally quiet," Wrath continued after a moment, "With a gentle temperament, although she will still attempt to be firm with you, should she perceive you acting incorrectly."
"You would know, wouldn't you, Wrath? Didn't this woman slap you?"
Once again, Pride sensed the other's anger rising to the surface, saying nothing for several seconds before speaking in a controlled voice. "Her name is Leona. And she will be 'mother' to you soon."
He was a perfect actor when he met her. He smiled a lot, was slightly formal and a little shy, but excited to meet her. That is what he had seemed, at least.
She, too, had smiled a lot, and spoken to him in a manner that suggested he was older than his container made him look. She had shaken his hand, and stood close by.
He went home with her, into a small room that bared evidence of her having supervised. It was larger than he had expected, with a bed that seemed far too gigantic for his container, and she lingered at the door when she told him to sleep well.
At least she hadn't assumed he was afraid of the dark. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to contain his laughter at that thought.
The days passed. She always seemed to have something to say to him, and activity that she would like them to do together. And always, she seemed to find ways to touch him- on his shoulder, or his head, her fingers surprisingly strong and firm, the movements somehow fitting and natural and genuine. Humans liked touching, for reasons he couldn't fathom. Apparently brushing someone with your fingertips brought you closer to them in an emotional sense. No wonder humans were so foolish.
Pride discovered that she smiled brighter when he brought her little things, like flowers, or stupidly drawn pictures. He didn't know why, but sometimes he did these things maybe more than was necessary. He supposed that she could have had a worse smile. By human standards, it was indeed pleasant.
Wrath kissed her a few times in Pride's sight. There was no avoiding it of course, but it seemed as if he too, enjoyed this more than he should have. Once again, the physical contact eluded Pride. Though mother kissed him too, it wasn't the same, and he still didn't know why it was needed.
Once, a car almost hit him in the street. He felt it then, her body barreling into his, putting her body and her touches and her smiles between him and a thing which she thought would kill him. Her whole body shook as she held him close, murmuring words he only half caught about how glad she was that he was safe. She voiced no fear for her own safety, and he supposed too that she was rather brave. It was easy to see why Wrath was somewhat fond of her.
Almost too easy.
The next day, she held his fingers tightly when they crossed a street, as if ready at any moment to pull him back, should another car come charging. But also she held his hand in a loose rip, easy, as if the action was so simply right that she truly thought nothing of it, while Pride still puzzled over its meaning endlessly, over the meaning of these moments of contact and smiles, and touches that reached him somewhere, somehow.
It was all ridiculous, of course. But being around humans as often as he was now, it made sense that he wondered, that he strived to understand. What was it that made mother reach out to him, that made him so easily accept her touch in return?
The Promised Day came ever closer. Somehow, he couldn't think about the details of the plan; it stirred something inside of him he didn't like.
The Promised Day continued to approach, no matter how he avoided it in his daily thoughts. Mother would soon die.
The next (and last, though he didn't know it then) time they crossed the street, he reached up, and grabbed her hand, feeling her warm palm and fingers wrap around his. She smiled and he smiled, and for a moment, all was right in the world.
He held onto her hand for six blocks straight.