A Father's Day Drabble
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, which is solely the property of the honorable Arakawa-san.
Author's note: Better late than never. Just a little something I whipped up in honor of my father in particular, and all fathers in general - real and animated.. John L. was a Marine. Semper fi!
It always started the same. Small eyes looked up at him, small hands reached up to him, and a small voice would pipe, "Daddy! Up!" He loved to hold his children, so how could he resist? He would bend down and take hold - lift with your knees, not with your back.And thenslowly raise back up, one arm wrapped around a small, warm body, the other supporting a diaper-clad bottom.
And up the child would come, until he or she stood on top of the world with Father. When very young, just toddler-age, their heads tucked perfectly underneath his chin. The older children would rest their heads upon his shoulder. Whichever way they were held, he could breathe in their fresh clean child scent. Even a recent bath couldn't entirely obliterate the smell of innocence, which was unique to each child. Even blindfolded, and in a crowd of people, he was quite sure he could identify every one of his offspring.
The color of the child's hair varied - either her black, his caramel-colored, or a variation from one of the child's myriad ancestors, but always unruly and calling no comb or brush master. Eventually, the child would turn it's head to meet his eyes with an expression of perfect love and trust. The little gaze pierced his heart and brought forth an answering surge of love, plus the desire to protect from all of life's slings and arrows.
The color of the child's eyes varied as well - her dark blue, his chocolate brown, but two of them, in a throwback to Hohenheim of Light, had eyes of brilliant gold. They were like deep, silent pools of wisdom which held all the answers of the world within their depths. Until that peace was shattered by the inevitable questions: why is the sky blue? where did the goldfish I flushed down the toilet go? why can't I blow up ants with this array? why can't I bite my older sister? why is the grass green? why won't the birds come, even when I call 'here, birdie-birdie'? why is mommy's tummy so big?
That last question always made him blush.
He enjoyed these private moments alone with his children, before they got too heavy, before they grew too tall, before they became too sophisticated and rolled their eyes when hugged, before they realized although their Daddy knew a lot, but he didn't know everything. He would lay a gentle kiss on an innocent little head, then sneak a sly look over at his brother; who would grin back over the tousled head of his youngest. Happy Father's Day.
Fin
Author's note: The supremely talented Sarif (authoress of "Fire And Light: Sequel to The Conqueror of Shambala") very kindly drew an art request for me, which sort of goes with this drabble, and sort of with her story. It can be found at her deviant art account under the name of sable-sama.