Bat's Note:
Written for Shrimpey/Emma. She wanted something that involved Kimbley's hair, so... I wrote it.
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Kimbley opened his eyes. His head was pounding, his ears were ringing, and when he tried to sit up, his limbs wouldn't work. Instead he started looking around. The first thing he realised was that the ceiling needed to be painted. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying in a green couch. Actually, it was quite an ugly couch. It was old as well. When Kimbley started looking at the walls, he realised that they needed to be painted as well. Wherever he was, it was not a five-star hotel.
'Oi, Mr Greed,' someone said. Kimbley looked upwards. Sitting there, was a man (or so Kimbley guessed, he didn't really see the face of the person) who was dressed in what reminded the alchemist vaguely of the ancient warriors of the East.
'Yeah, Dorchet?' another someone asked, who Kimbley couldn't see.
'He is awake, Sir.' Dorchet said, and Kimbley noted the sour tone at the "He".
'Oh? Splendid!' Kimbley heard the second man get up, and heard him walking towards the sofa. After a moment or so, he saw a tall man, with dark pointy hair, and black round glasses sitting down on his sofa.
'Heya.' He said, grinning. His teeth were pointed, making his grin more malicious than intended, his purple eyes glittering behind the spectacles. 'If I understood correctly, you're an alchemist? You've got a name?' Kimbley glared at the strange man. There was something vaguely familiar about him.
'Depends on who you are.' He hissed, playing hostile.
'I'm Greed. Tell me, who are you?' Greed asked.
'I'm called Kimbley. Zolof J. Kimbley, if you need the full name,' Kimbley asked. 'Who's that?' he said, nodded towards the person sitting on the top of the sofa.
'That? That's Dorchet. He's one of my loyal subordinates.' Greed smiled again. Kimbley couldn't say if he liked the smile or not.
'I got you out of your handcuffs. You should thank me. But you don't need to. But say, Mr Kimbley, would you like to work under me?' Greed let one of his hands pass through Kimbley's hair. Nobody touched his hair unharmed. As a reflex, Kimbley clapped his hands together, and put his hands on Greed's chest. When he felt the skin, he realised it wasn't skin. But before he could decide what it was, Greed exploded, spattering blood all over the room.
'What the hell did you do that for?' Dorchet asked. He jumped off the sofa, and started wiping the blood and guts off his face. 'God, this is so fucking disgusting.'
Kimbley grinned broadly, his eyes still fixed to where Greed had exploded. It had been a good explosion. Suddenly, his satisfied expression turned into one of pure shock. From what seemed to be nothing, a skeleton was being created, and after that, muscles and finally, a layer of skin.
'Geez... There are easier ways to undress me, y'know.' Greed complained. 'Dorchet, get me something to wear.' Dorchet blinked dumbly once at the naked man, then did a quick bow, blushing furiously.
'What are you?' Kimbley asked. Greed grinned, and sat down on the table. Kimbley tried his hardest not to look at him.
'Ever heard of homunculus or homunculii?' Greed asked, and titled his head slightly.
'Yeah... Why do you wonder?' Kimbley asked, wrapping his arms around his knees.
'I'm one of them.' Greed said simply. Kimbley stared at him.
'I don't believe you,' he then said.
'So... You believe it was a trick with the eye that you exploded me?' Greed asked, stretching his body. 'Oh! Dorchet.' Dorchet gave Greed a dressing gown, which he gratefully put on. 'It's quite cold without clothes, you know. Even for created humans. But do you think that it's a trick, blowing me up?'
'Well...' Kimbley was a scientist, for the love of the Gods. There must be some logical reason why it didn't work as it should. Maybe it was just an illusion. Yeah, it was just an illusion. Kimbley flicked his eyes around the room again. His eyes passed over this Dorchet, who was sitting and idly watching the two of them. Dorchet's clothes were splattered with blood, which put a stop to Kimbley's theory about Greed. Kimbley ran a hand over his face, sighing. He could feel the coagulated blood all over his face. 'Nah... I can't explain it. I give up.' Greed's face split up into a grin. 'And since I don't have anywhere to return... And because the Army thinks I'm dead... I might as well stay with you.'
'That's good. You'll get food, a room, and... whatever you might need.' Greed smiled, got up, and offered his hand. Kimbley shook it. 'However...' Greed said.
'What?' Kimbley asked.
'If you wanna work for me, you've got to wash your hair. And cut it.' Greed demanded.
'You can't do that! I like my hair!' Kimbley protested.
'We'll just trim it then,' Greed smiled.
Kimbley thought about this. If he aGreed with letting Greed cut his hair (except he didn't know if it was Greed who was going to cut the hair, it might as well be the Dorchet-fellow), he would get a roof over his head, food, and hopefully, people he could talk to.
'Alright then,' he shrugged, getting up.
'Dorchet?' Greed asked. 'Nobody's using the bathroom, are they?'
'Eh... No.' Dorchet answered. 'Yeah, Mr Greed. May I use the bathroom after you have bathed your alchemist?'
'Sure. I make no claim on it.' Greed shrugged at Dorchet, and waved at Kimbley to follow him. Kimbley did so, following Greed's steps, studying what was now his... guardian? Commander? Kimbley couldn't place what role Greed would have in his life.
After a while walking, Greed stopped in front of a big wardrobe, where he started digging after something.
'Here,' Greed threw him a towel. 'And here,' he said, throwing him a green pyjamas after digging deeper in the wardrobe. 'Do you reckon you'll need anything else?'
'Er...' Not having washed his hair properly for six or so years, there was loads of things he wanted, but all of them could wait a while. 'No. I'm fine.'
'Great.' Greed grinned, and showed him the door to the shower. 'I'll let you shower, then. Come out when you're finished, so we can take care of your hair.'
Of some reason, Kimbley had half-expected Greed to follow him inside the bathroom, why he didn't know. Still, he was eased when Greed let him be alone. He needed to collect his thoughts. Kimbley nodded to Greed, and went inside the bathroom. He hadn't expected too much from it, and didn't get too much either. The tiles on the walls were asymmetrical, and the mirror had a deep crack straight through the middle. Kimbley decided to look at himself in the mirror before taking a shower. He didn't recognise himself.
His hair was lank, covered with dirt and now blood, his face was sickly pale. And he was growing a stubble. He was happy that he didn't have a big beard, though. Then he realised that he must have been in the bathroom for at least five minutes, and he hadn't even taken off his clothes. Kimbley quickly stripped bare, and entered the shower. He shivered when the cold water touched his skin. After a couple of minutes, he, to his disappointment, realised that the water wasn't going to heat up. He would have spent longer washing his hair if the water hadn't been so fucking cold.
Kimbley shivered when he got out of the shower. He grabbed his towel, and started drying his body. Then he put on the pyjamas Greed had given him. It was slightly too big, but it was better than blood-stained prison clothes. When he was dressed, he started drying his hair. While doing this, he left the bathroom.
'I was wondering when you would come out,' Greed remarked when Kimbley came out, his hair still full of water.
'Why?' the alchemist asked, wrapping the towel around his hair.
'You were there in almost an hour.' Greed said. Kimbley stared at him. He didn't like to be set without an answer. So, instead of answering, he just shrugged, looking casually at the homunculus.
'We're gonna cut your hair now.' Greed smiled. 'Come on.' He beckoned Kimbley to follow him, and Kimbley did so. After a few minutes, and many twists and turns, Greed invited him into a room. Kimbley entered, still drying his hair. This room, Kimbley guessed, had to be Greed's bedroom. He didn't know what made him think it was that, but there was something in the aura of the room that reminded him a lot of Greed. The room was simple, not as run-down as the rest of this place... What place was this, anyway?
'Greed...' Kimbley asked.
'Yes, Mr Alchemist?' the homunculus replied, who was sitting and studying a pair of scissors.
'Where am I?'
'You're in my room. Oh, do you mean where, in general?' Greed said, now looking at the alchemist. Kimbley nodded. 'You're in the pub Devil's Nest, which is in Dublith. Is that enough?'
'In the south, right?'
'Yeah. In the south, Mr Alchemist.' Greed smiled. 'Hey, come here. Sit on the chair.' Greed pointed at a chair in front of him. He, himself, was sitting on his bed, cross-legged, holding a pair of scissors in one hand, a brush in the other. Kimbley did as he was told.
'Just don't cut it too much, OK? I'm rather fond of my hair.' A moment later, he felt Greed gripping his hair, and brushing it. He winced when the tangles in his hair were brushed out, but didn't want to admit that it hurts. Greed brushed Kimbley's hair in silence, until Kimbley asked the homunculus a question.
'So how, really, did you find me? And then, get me here?'
'We met at the Fifth Laboratory, remember?' Greed said.
'We did?'
'Yeah... I was sealed there by the biggest bitch in history, and then I somehow got free, and then I teamed up with Dorchet, Martel, Roa, and the others.' Greed said. 'They were used as lab rats there. Then you came along... And I thought we could have use of you. Dorchet and Martel said that you'd just cause trouble, but... When we tried to talk to you, you tried to attack us, so Dorchet hit you unconscious with his sword. Then we brought you here.'
'When was this?' Kimbley demanded to know.
'I dunno, really... a week, perhaps. I've never kept track of the days.' Greed smiled, and started brushing out a tangle. After maybe three quarters of an hour, Kimbley's hair was brushed. Greed got off the bed, and looked at Kimbley.
'Hmm...' he pondered, running his hand absently over the alchemist's hair. Kimbley would have made him explode, if he hadn't known that Greed wouldn't die. 'What to do?'
'You don't know?' Kimbley asked. 'You're the sort of guy that seems to know everything.'
Greed laughed, and turned away his gaze.
'It's not that I know everything.' He said, resting his head in his hand, looking at Kimbley again. 'I just sound that way. I do, however, want everything. That's why I'm Greed.'
'Figured as much,' Kimbley said. Greed frowned while looking at the alchemist, thinking hard.
'I think I've got an idea.' The homunculus said after a couple of minutes, and went to get his scissors.
-
Kimbley ran a hand through his hair.
'What do you think? Of course, I still have to put up it in a ponytail, but do you think it's alright like that?' Greed said, lying on the bed.
'Yeah...' Kimbley said. 'It seems alright.'
'Good. I am happy with it, myself.' The homunculus took a sip of his vodka, and lifted his hand. 'Come.'
'Why?'
'I'm gonna put up your hair.' Greed grinned. Kimbley got off the chair, and sat down next to him.
'What are you going to put it up with?' the alchemist asked. Greed thought about this, drinking his vodka.
'I never thought about that.' He admitted. Then he offered Kimbley the bottle. 'Want some?'
Kimbley accepted the alcohol, and took a sip. The fluid burned in his throat, it had been so long since he last drank vodka. He gave the bottle back to Greed, and thanked him. Greed took the bottle, and put it on the table. He let his eyes meet Kimbley's.
He lifted his hand, and grabbed Kimbley's shirt.
'What are you-' Kimbley began, but never got the chance to finish the sentence.
Greed pulled Kimbley closer to him, grinning smugly. His other hand stroked the alchemist's hair, and he bent forward, kissing him. Kimbley shivered, so unused to human touch. He opened his mouth, touching Greed's tongue with his. Greed purred softly, his arms wrapping around Kimbley. He let one hand run over the alchemist's hair, then he smiled, full of content. He had done a good job.