Title: Growing Up
Part: 1/1. Short one-shot.
Author: September's Nobara
Fandom: FLCL
Characters: Amarao, Kitsurubami
Pairings: If you tilt your head and squint, sure.
Rating: K+-T
Genre: General
Warnings: Introspection, (possible) character commentary/development, that sort of thing
Disclaimer: It's a fanfiction, being submitted to a fanfiction site.
Archiving: Yes, please, just ask first.
Feedback: Yes, please, and constructive criticism would be very much appreciated.
Author's Note: An idea that I haven't seen before, yet. A different look at the relationship between Kitsurubami and Amarao. This takes place a few months after the sixth and final episode. Fanfiction heading style borrowed from TV Tropes, which in turn was inspired by a LiveJournal post.
She watches him squint up at the oversized screen, false eyebrows creating a brim for the red-headed man. Idiot, she thinks as she takes a drink from the can she's holding. Keeping an eye on one of the few other people in the office, the young woman sets the drink on her desk, keeping the can from making any noise. She's got better things to do than come back here, you know. Just as much as she can't say that, she still hasn't been able to tell him that no, you don't need fake eyebrows. Stupid idiot didn't need to shave 'em off. Though, that was just an office rumor. She laughs to herself, then gains composure as one of Amarao's "eyebrows" twitches. There are quite a few other things she can't say, and he's much too old, besides.
The blonde is almost certain her commander used to be normal before the pink-haired woman entered his life. Another sip, and another dart of the man's head from one part of the screen to the opposite side, observing their organization's newest charge. For one thing, he probably had perfectly fine eyebrows. Kitsurubami purses her lips, looking away from the man. Remembering the self-proclaimed "nineteen-year-old" alien also brought up memories of the second otherworldly visitor. A quick sigh through the nose, and a flush of warmth. Even though the blue robot was, well, a robot, "he" reminded the woman of the commander- If the commander weren't so silly, and obtuse. Sheesh. Or a higher-up coworker. Kitsurubami takes another drink from the beverage, which was much more sweet than she remembered preferring. Usually, Amarao drank this sort of stuff.
Words from the man in question rouse her from contemplation.
"Hey, can I have my drink, now?" Amarao jokes. She looks at the can, turning it over in her hand. "Amarao" is printed in large black letters, which are now runny, and rubbing off, leaving a second set of characters in her palm. Wasn't this my drink from the fridge?
She blinks.
"Eww!" The girl squeals. Kitsurubami, in an effort to remove the can from her personal space, flings the just about empty can as far away as possible.
Ka-kiin.
Wait, that's not the sound cans make when landing in the garbage. Kitsurubami opens her eyes, glancing around on the floor in her immediate space. She looks up and over to her commander as he kneels down, removing something from the floor near him.
"Thanks," Amarao replies, rubbing the back of his head, but otherwise not moving. Oh, jeez-I didn't mean to hit the guy!
The younger woman notices something else in the light given off by the screen: two dark brown rectangles sitting at similar angles on the man's desk. She scrutinizes him, but he makes no move to pick them up and readhere the dried seaweed to his brow. Instead, Amarao inspects his late drink, and sets it down without fuss in the garbage can near his own desk. She lifts her own eyebrow, and files this away for future reference.
Author's Notes: I've almost always seen the seaweed eyebrows as similar to how some folks use toupees or something to that effect.