not a songfic, like the rest of the set, and a bit shorter, but same setting/continuity as the other three, so it works. was part arequestfromhime1999, and part a trade for hime1999 to draw me a pic for one of my drabbles. enjoy! -fireun
It was raining. Ed could tell long before he was awake enough to actually hear the water pounding on the roof over him. He could feel it in the way he wanted nothing more than to burrow deeper into his blankets and fade happily back into unconsciousness, he could feel it in the way his joints ached and pulled as he rolled over.
Damn, he hated the rain. And now he was aware of the fact the moisture in the air was making the joints where prosthetic and flesh met ache, making it impossible for him to curl back up and simply ignore the day. With a groan he hauled himself upright, pulled on a pair of pants, and hobbled his way to the kitchen in search of food. And coffee.
"I look like an old man, creaking along like this…" Ed muttered, peering around the kitchen. There was coffee, a plate of toast, a folded paper…but no Hohenheim. "Old man?" he called, wondering where the old bastard could have gotten to at such an ungodly hour. Getting no answer, he decided unguarded toast meant free game, and snagged a piece, showering crumbs onto the floor as he munched, attempting to poor coffee at the same time with his good hand.
A blast of cool air and the creak of hinges announced the arrival of Hohenheim. Gooseflesh pricking to attention all along his bare back, Ed turned to look at his father over his shoulder, half a slice of toast in his mouth.
"Put a shirt on, Edward. You're going to catch a cold." Hohenheim shook moisture off of his coat with a distasteful grimace. He was no more fond of the current weather than his son.
"Jus' got up." Ed managed around his toast, to his credit only losing a small spattering of crumbs in the process.
With a snort, Hohenheim made his way into the kitchen, plopping his coat over Ed's shoulders as he passed on his way to the coffee. Startled, Ed dropped the remains of his toast and caused him to slosh coffee over his hand as he jerked. "What the hell was that for!"
"If you don't keep warm you will get sick." Hohenheim explained in a rather sedate tone of voice, snapping his newspaper open with a practiced motion. "That and the warmer you are, the less your joints will hurt."
Ed harrumphed, slurped coffee off of his hand, and settled in his usual chair at the table, across from the silent Hohenheim. At least the man had the decency to ignore the way Ed arranged himself deep into the folds of the coat as he sat, taking comfort in the warmth his father had left in the material.