Okay, just a head's up - this is where the M rating definitely starts coming into play. So, if you're underage, you shouldn't be reading this anyway.
Also, if it's been a while since you've read any of MD, I recommend going back and reading chapter 2 (Almost Home), because there's some references to things that happened in that one.
Enjoy!
Dance, Part Two
Why would she want to dance with him? But at every festival, for the last two years, little Trisha kept asking him to dance. Every year he refused, and eventually he didn't miss the look of sympathy Pinako would give her niece after every quiet no.
But this spring . . . everything was different, and Hohenheim couldn't quite grasp why. Not until the voice that made him run away when Trisha was six spoke up again.
Tch, she's getting breasts. You should've taken advantage of her long ago. Now she's ruined. And she won't be nearly so tight anymore.
Hohenheim paled, and was very grateful Pinako had not yet joined him in their usual spot by a little distance away from the fire. Because, suddenly, his eyes were drawn to Trisha.
For years, he'd only allowed himself to think of her as Pinako's little niece. When he was away, traveling, he always envisioned her as the six-year-old girl Urey had tried to propose to. Now, he realized that while she was still unspeakably young, she was certainly not six years old anymore.
And thank the Truth for that, because it appeared his pedophile interloper was finally losing interest.
This spring, instead of joining the younger children in their circle dances and rough-housing, Trisha was one of the older girls lingering around the edges of the children's area, making sure the rough-housing didn't go too far.
Hohenheim glanced around to check if Pinako was anywhere in sight, relieved to see she wasn't. He let his gaze wander back to Trisha, observing her thoughtfully.
No, she definitely wasn't a six-year-old anymore.
Her face was still soft and round like a child's, but her arms and legs were longer, starting to turn into lithe, shapely limbs. Hohenheim almost blushed as his eyes fell to her chest, and he realized that yes, there were soft buds of barely-there breasts trying to peak through the fabric of her button-up blouse.
When had she started wearing blouses, instead of pull-over chemises? For that matter, when had she stopped wearing cut-off drawers and started wearing skirts? Skirts that wrapped around wide hips, the material tugging and swaying whenever she took a step, hems falling just below her knees, and teased the skin over her calves with brushing kisses.
Her delicate ankles shifted and swayed with grace and precision when she walked, and Hohenheim forced his eyes to look back up at her face, and then he did blush because her gaze collided with his. He couldn't tell if she blushed back because of his blush, or because he caught her looking. The sun was rapidly setting, after all. It was dusk. Not every detail could be seen, and his eyesight was better than most because of the Philosopher's stone.
Trisha turned to one of the other girls, and Hohenheim watched her lips move, words silent from this distance. Not even his hearing was that good. But when she turned and headed in his direction, he blushed deeper, and cast another glance around for Pinako.
He wasn't sure if he was relieved or nervous that the woman was nowhere in sight.
"Auntie's not coming tonight, Urey wasn't feeling well."
Hohenheim jumped. How had Trisha traversed the clearing so quickly?
Trisha shrugged. "I saw you kept looking around."
"Thank you."
Trisha smiled softly, a shy look in her eyes. She seemed to be measuring him up, debating whether to speak or leave.
"I know every year you say no," she started talking, and his eyes were drawn to the way her fingers interlaced and twisted, knuckles turning white from pressure, "but it's my birthday today. And I would really like to dance with you. And you don't have to say yes, and I'm only asking for one dance . . ."
She bit her lip, blushing bright red again. "I'm rambling. Please make me shut up."
Her birthday? How old was she now - twelve? Thirteen? Hohenheim bit back a harsh chuckle as he realized even Pinako was too young for him. Did technicalities even matter anymore?
But then he took in her bright, hopeful gaze. Yes, the technicalities did matter. Because even if he was four centuries old, she still had some growing up to do.
But maybe, just maybe, she was worth the wait. Because he could certainly afford to wait. And she was certainly proving determined when it came to him.
Hohenheim stood up suddenly, brushing his pants back into place with his large hands, and realized that she was taller than he remembered. He still towered over her, but the top of her head was nearly the same height as his shoulders.
Why was he feeling the urge to wrap her up and take her away from everything and everyone that might threaten her? Even himself.
A memory flashed through his mind, of Trisha's father. Of the expression on Stefan's face that day six years ago when Trisha announced she was going to marry Mr. Van. Was Stefan here tonight? Would his face churn with that vivid red-purple rage again?
Just one dance; a birthday dance. He could give her that. Then he would leave.
"Well then, Miss Elric," he held out his hand to her, "May I have this dance?"
Her face flushed again, eyes dancing.
"Of course, Mr. Van. I thought you'd never ask."
Just one dance, he told himself.
But when it ended, he found it was far too short.
Sorry for the update taking so long! I've had a bit on my plate the past month or so - I've been frantically editing my NaNoWriMo novel, because I've made it to the final round of a contest that could end in a publishing deal! If you'd like to know more, visit my blog (link on my profile). Just select the post with the giant banner when you get there, and it has all the details!
