No Amount of Therapy

Chapter Three: Not so Well-Adjusted

By: MoonClaimed

Story Summery: The Elric Brothers finally found what they were after, but their sanity might have been better off if they hadn't… (Utter Crack/ slight, joking Elricest, Mild language)

Chapter Summery: Considering the horrors the Elric brothers had faced, they were a remarkably well-adjusted pair. Or, at least, so Roy had always thought…


"Have you ever been in therapy? No? You should try it. It's like a really easy game show where the correct answer to every question is: 'Because of my mother.'"

-Robin Greenspan


It had been nearly two months since The Big Important Day, as the Elrics had dubbed it, the day Ed had finally dragged Al's depleted body back from before the gate (though for some reason both adamantly refused to explain how they had managed it). And both of the boys were recovering remarkably well from the experience.

However, despite the numerous assurances Roy Mustang had received of the brothers' continuing good health, he couldn't help but worry. Especially not since the boys had left the relative safety of the hospital for the isolation of their own apartment. And that was why (though he wouldn't admit it under pain of death) he now found himself in the Elrics' surprisingly cozy kitchen, waiting for Alphonse to formally introduce him to his very first cat.

Edward, near stupid with joy still, smiled indulgently at his younger brother. "Go ahead, Al; show the bastard."

Al returned the smile before reaching down to his lap, gathering the bundle of fur up, and presenting the small creature proudly. "This is Mrs. Whiskers! Isn't she cute?" Alphonse cooed at the tiny calico kitten that sat nestled in his hands. He bent to rub a cheek against the soft fur and basked in the dearly missed warmth the action granted him.

The side of Roy's mouth curled into its customary smirk, though his eyes were significantly softened in the face of the younger Elric's joy. "Mrs. Whiskers?" He questioned in dry humor, "Then where's Mister Whiskers?"

The quiet comfort of the room shattered as a door slammed shut behind either brother's eyes. They glanced to each other briefly before Edward, their unofficial spokesman, turned back to face Mustang. He raised his chin defiantly and grated, "We don't talked about that."

It was all Roy could do to blink dumbly for a moment before he carefully placed his coffee cup down on the table. He took a second to collect himself and clear his throat nervously. "Did you ever consider…" he began slowly, tentatively, "that therapy might be a worthwhile investment?"

The brothers looked to each other again. "Wouldn't help," they chorused.


A/N: Yes, that's right. It's all Hoenhiem's fault. =^.^=