¡Ay, necesito mas tiempo! Y, ¡necesito escribir más! Pero tengo demasiadas cosas que hacer. Yo quería escribir la semana pasada, pero no podía. Yo no escribí, sino hizo trabajo. ¡No es justo! Ay, ay... =.=
Yo detengo ahora. No quiero molestar a vosotras. El capítulo diez se llama: ᴘᴇsᴀᴅɪʟʟᴀ — problemática. Es largo, ¿bueno? Ji ji~ ¡Os quiero! ¡Revisad por favor! :) Me hace muy bien. Eso es todo. :D
Oh, I never have enough time to write! I was too busy doing work all week... Woe is me.
On the bright side for y'all, though, this chapter is longer than number nine. That's about all I have to say. Please review, and the poll is now closed. I'll prob'ly have to think up a new one...
Finally, my ever-present thank you to awesomenaruto for betareading this! ˆ-ˆ
|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Amestris, Roy's house.
|Tɪᴍᴇ: Spring 1913. Early April.
|Eᴅ "Eᴅᴍᴜɴᴅ": Doesn't have any automail. Cat-chimera. A pickpocket. Age 14.
|Aʟ "Aʟᴇᴄ": Human-ish. Also a cat-chimera. Pickpocket. Age 13.
|Rᴏʏ: Colonel, the Flame Alchemist.
|All characters maintain their original appearances and personalities as best as I can write them.
~ T S N
Title Subject To Change
-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-
.: 10 :.
ᴛ ʀ ᴏ ᴜ ʙ ʟ ᴇ s ᴏ ᴍ ᴇ — d r e a m
[The problematic and the obliged]
"And you and your brother will sleep in here," Mustang concluded, having already shown the blond his own bedroom and the bathroom on the upper level of his house. He walked into the guest bedroom that the two youngsters would be occupying. In his arms, he held a sleeping Al; a load not easily obtained with the over-protective older brother watching. Though the teen had been strongly against having the man carry the copper haired boy to the spare bedroom, Mustang had convinced him after suggesting that Al would be much warmer and more comfortable in a bed, had assured him that, no, he wouldn't drop Al—"I've carried him before and he's still alive,"—and had denied Ed permission to carry his own sibling—"And what happens when your legs give out and you fall down the stairs and break both your necks?" Al was asleep and they weren't about to wake him and make him limp along on a hurt ankle.
So the teenage pickpocket had begrudgingly allowed the Flame Alchemist to take Al upstairs, walking along behind him as he pointed out the other two rooms. Ed trudged over to the large bed, seemingly too tired to remember to watch Roy like a hawk. The man strode over and laid Al down on the blanket as Ed wearily crawled onto the bed.
"Careful," the boy chastised halfheartedly.
Mustang rolled his eyes at the other's persistence but didn't retort. "I assume you can take it from here?"
"Course…" Ed mumbled, closing his eyes for a couple seconds. He pried them open long enough to look at his little brother and sink down next to him.
"If there's any problem then you know where I sleep, try to run away and I'll have Hawkeye hunt you down, do anything to my house and I'll personally–"
Snore…
Mustang let out the rest of his breath as a sigh. With a backward glance at the boys whom he refused to admit might just look something akin to cute sleeping there, he left the bedroom. A few hours and a phone call to Hughes later, he was in bed. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was the slightly paranoid hope that the two chimera wouldn't sneak into his bedroom at night and slit his throat.
It was about two in the morning when he was awakened unexpectedly.
He's in Mustang's living room again, watching Mr. Rockbell root through his medical bag. Mrs. Rockbell is speaking.
He sees his older brother's face pale significantly, blond ears drawing back. Gold orbs track the tip of a needle as the doctor prepares it.
"Edward? Are you alright?" Mr. Rockbell addresses the older boy when he turns. "Ed, can you look at me? We're not doing anything to hurt you." Ed waveringly complies and stares at the doctor before him. His upper lip twitches.
Mrs. Rockbell stops talking.
"Do you need any help?" Mustang offers from behind. "I have a gun."
"That'll work nicely," the woman says. She takes a pistol from the raven haired man and aims it at Ed. "Won't he be cute?" she asks her husband.
"Absolutely," he says with a smile.
Before he can do anything, Al hears a loud BANG!
His brother is gone now; it's just him. He's alone with the exception of the doctor before him. There's a malevolent smile.
"Where's Brother?" Alphonse asks fearfully.
"Edward is busy right now," the man replies. The room is dark. "Here, take these."
Then there's suddenly something—some things—being pressed to his lips. They're pills, those god-awful pills. He chokes and gags as they slide down his throat. He struggles, trying to break free, crying, "Brother, Brother! Where are you?!"
"There, there. You'll see. Everything'll be fine, just perfect." A sour smell and the area that he's in gets darker. "This will make everything better." Al screams; he's helpless, coughing, choking, drowning, suffocating…
Flashes of color appear and fade. He's burning, alone, in pain. Is the man still there? It's damp, there's something on his arm. A new noise and he's still panicking. "Al! Wake up!" Edward's voice breaks through the swirling blackness.
"Please…no!"
"Al!"
Alphonse's eyes flew open as he sat up, panting slightly. He grabbed onto the arms that he recognized as Edward's. "Brother?" he asked, looking around the surrounding darkness that appeared to be a bedroom.
"Yeah, Al. Are you okay?"
"Uh-huh," the younger said with a shudder. "Wh…where are we?"
"That guy, Colonel Mustang, is having us sleep in here; it's a guest bedroom or something." Al didn't reply, just sat there, letting himself calm as the adrenaline left his system. "Um, Al?" Edward spoke up after a minute, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "That wasn't me." Not understanding, Alphonse trained his ears for what his brother might have heard. But after a couple moments of hearing nothing, Al turned to give his brother a questioning glance. That was when he recalled the dampness from his dream; it was still present.
The younger brother felt his face become redder and redder at the implication.
Nothing like that had happened since he had been four or five years old. Mortified, Al wanted the bed—no, the floor would probably be better—to swallow him up. He just sat there, stewing in silent humiliation, a hundred things to say flitting through his head before being discarded.
It was at least a minute of quiet before Ed spoke, "Well…"
"Sorry," Al mumbled hurriedly.
"Heh-heh," Ed forced out reassuringly. "It's not like you meant to, right?" Al kept his eyes fixated on his tail, which was trying to curl in on itself. Upon getting no answer, the older boy offered, "Though, you might need a bath now… Both of us." Al blushed harder. He couldn't believe this was happening.
Edward shifted and slid off the bed. "Where're you going?" Al asked at the move.
"C'mon," Ed told him quietly, "I know where the bathroom is; we'll get cleaned up."
Al made a small noise of embarrassment before nodding and following after his sibling. The dark bedroom was cold and the younger boy became more aware of the dampness of his clothing when he limped along with Edward, leaning on him and hopping with every other step. They walked down the hallway, then turned left and stopped. Al could hear the pat pat, slide, patof his brother's hand on the wall as he tried to locate the light switch. Then there was a bright blare of light that had both Elrics closing their eyes and grimacing.
After that, the goldenrod haired child was lead over to the side of the bathtub, where he sat down. Edward reached over to one of the two knobs for the water at the end of the bathtub. He twisted it. Nothing happened. He turned the other. Still nothing. He twisted both back and forth, back and forth, even going so far as to give one a couple of good whacks. Nothing.
Muttering several foul words under his breath, the elder spared a glance at the door to the bathroom. He turned back the unyielding faucet and gave it a few more twists and turns. With no result, Edward shot the door a witheringly resentful glare before rising and swearing in aggravation. "Be right back." He stomped out of the bathroom. Puzzled, Alphonse watched him go. Several moments later, he heard his brother speaking through the wall.
Edward pushed open Mustang's door. It squeaked softly. The blond stuck his head into the bedroom before taking a few steps inside the dark room.
He wasn't entirely sure how to approach this.
He cleared his throat. "Um…" Then he knocked his fist against the wall. Again, harder. The man stirred in his bed and Edward ventured farther into the dark room. "Hey." He made no effort to keep his voice down as he repeated, "Hey, wake up." The guy rolled over away from Ed. "Hey, Mr. Mustang, or whatever, hey, wake up!"
The teen nudged the adult impatiently. A second later, Mustang's eyes snapped open and he grabbed the blond's wrist, holding it away from himself. He stared at Edward for a few softly panted breaths before his eyes showed recognition and he released his captive.
With a weary sigh, the man closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hand, sliding it down until it pushed his hair up a bit. "What?" he asked with a sleep-ridden voice.
Getting his bearings back around him, Ed held his wrist protectively to his chest before scowling. "How do you work the water in the bathroom?"
One of Mustang's eyes opened to peer at the boy. "The sink?"
"The bath."
"…Why?"
"'Cause I wanna run some water."
"Again, why?" The guy rubbed at his face.
The golden-eyed boy's tail twitched. "Al and I were gonna take a bath."
"Why?"
"Is that all you can say?"
"Until you give me something better, yes."
Ed huffed. "Then how 'bout you tell me how to turn on the water?"
"There's a trick to it. Turn the little…"—yawn—"…thingy on the spout."
"'Thingy on the spout'?"
"For God's sake," the man complained and forced himself out of his bed. "I'll show you if it'll give me peace."
"You don't have to do that!" Ed piped up a little too quickly.
Mustang shot the hybrid a suspicious look. "And why do you need to be bathed tonight?"
Edward shoved his hands into his pockets with a downward glance and angrily led the way to the lit bathroom, muttering, "Stop asking dumb questions." Once there, the teen pointed at the bathtub. "Now, fix it."
Ed turned to look at Roy, who was staring at Alphonse with a beleaguered expression on his face. The wet stain on the younger's pants was all-too visible. "You've got to be joking." Al hung his head. "I'm supposed to be watching over a couple o' criminals, not babysitting a bed-wetter."
"Hey! It's not his fault!" Ed reprimanded defensively, though, he didn't know who else he could possibly blame it on.
"I know, I know…" the man sighed wearily.
"Huh?"
"I said I know. There was something in his papers about it being a side-effect to stress or something like that." Ed was a little taken aback. Mustang smirked sardonically at Edward. "What? I thought you already knew everything about yourselves that you'd ever want or need to know."
The teenager pouted. "Just turn on the water." Roy obliged and reached over, twisting a nozzle on the bathtub's spout. Water came gushing out.
The only noise echoing in the bathroom was of hollow splashes drumming into the inside the tub…then water smacking against more liquid…water splashing mutedly…a squeak and pl-plip-plip-plip-plip-plip plip-plip-plip plip plip-plip plip-plip plip plip…plip…plip.
"There," Mustang finalized, standing up from the side of the tub. "Get undressed and hop in." The boys didn't move. "Go on."
"Not with you here," Edward resisted.
"Well, either you strip down and get in the tub, or you do so and just stand there, naked. Either way, I have to get your clothes so they can be washed and don't stink up my house."
Ed glanced over to a silent Al and shifted his foot. "Turn around, first."
"Kid, there's nothing you and your brother have that I don't– Er, that is… But I already know about the ears and tails an' stuff, so, unless there's something else you're hiding under–"
"There's nothing else!" asserted the teenager adamantly.
"Then hurry it up."
The older Elric begrudgingly turned his back and stripped down to his boxers. Refusing to go any further than that, he proceeded to help his younger brother do the same. Al just sat there demurely, seeming to have chosen that pretending this wasn't happening was his best bet.
Edward handed Mustang the sodden clothes. "There."
"Come on, all the way," the colonel ordered intransigently. Edward flushed but complied. He shielded his little brother as he removed the last bit of Alphonse's clothing before standing and sliding of his boxers. His back was to Roy as he proffered the articles clothing. Ed could hear Mustang huff behind him as he took the things and set them down on the bathroom floor. Socked-feet took a step and a half toward him and then there was a hand stuck out in front of his own. "You're not bathing with that on." Ed looked down at the indicated hand. Lifting it up, he allowed the colonel to remove the bandage that was wrapped around his right hand. Cold fingers held it up for a few seconds after the bandage was off. Then Ed pulled it away to see for himself. It was scabbing over nicely but was still fairly swollen. "You probably ought to keep that dry for the time being."
Edward shrugged off the advice. "Alright, you can go now. I can do Al's on my own."
The pile of clothes was picked up off the floor as Mustang retreated. "Don't drown."
With that, the bathroom door was closed.
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