Carrots

WrathxElicia

A fluffy vignette to That Man (its not neccesary to read it). Takes place after the fic, when they're living together. Review if you like, flame if you don't. Critism is WELCOME. If you think it's horrid, tell me why. If you think it's splendid, shower me with compliments. Tee hee. Drabble-ish. I don't know how many words, exactly, but not many. Gasp. I think this may be the first fluffy fic I've ever written. Goodness.


He went to the market. I should have realized my mistake then. But I had been training in the back room, and had barely paid him any mind at all when he had announced his plans.

And now he's shoving a pair of carrots into my face.

What the hell was I thinking? I wonder as I glare at those orange vegetables furiously. Perhaps I will gain the super-power of burning them into bits just by glaring at them if I try hard enough. Unfortunately, I only manage to give myself a headache.

How could I fall in love with a carrot-lover?

You brainwashed me, didn't you, Wrath? You sure are a mischievous one! There is a conspiracy! Carrot people have taken over the world and are trying to make people join their side by eating carrots. I know it! I pick up a throwing knife and I slash at the carrots until Wrath is only holding the green tops. What will you do now, carrotman?

He raises an eyebrow gently, and I note he's tied his hair into a braid again. I sigh, and in a flash I've got that wretched hair tie into two pieces. They fall to the ground and I smirk at him impishly. Hughes, two; Homunculi, nothing. He drops the rest of the carrots and groans.

This is a familiar groan. He's used it time and time again, and I've managed to cunningly decipher it. It can either mean, "Damn it, I spent a lot of time finding perfectly shaped carrots like those, too!" or "She's gone mad again, hasn't she?" In this current situation I'm not sure which one was appropriate. Possibly both.

We're used to communicating without words by now. Even if we weren't, I don't need words to express my apology in this case. I simply run up to him and wrap my arms around him in a tight, ha-ha-it-seems-you-can't-move! hug. Another confused look is shot in my direction, but I've grown used to receiving them, just as he's grown used to giving them.

I rest my head gently on his chest, and I feel his heartbeat pick up as I do so. Thump-di-dump. Thump-di-dump. I love the sound of it so nearby. It reminds me that my lovely Ira is more human than he lets on to be (I call him Ira mentally, sometimes, even though he's forced me to call him by his real name by now).

He lifts my face gently up to his with a warm hand. I can still smell the lingering scent of the carrots on said hand, but I make an attempt at ignoring that, just for him. But he owes me.

When he starts kissing me, I decide that he doesn't.

And when I taste the carrots on his breathe, I wonder if maybe I don't hate carrots quite as much anymore.