Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.
My Armor Owns Your Ashtray
Chapter Nine: Fluffy, Mewing, Cuddly Eye Candy
Happily walking into his humble abode after a hard day's work, I sat down on the couch, hit the power on the television set, and propped my legs up on the coffee table. It was a good day. Maybe Al wouldn't notice, maybe he wouldn't care, or maybe—
"Jean Havoc," I spoke too soon.
"Yes, Al? What is it?" I answered, lighting a cigarette and puffing on it lazily.
"You know," Al said, sitting down next to me, smiling a fake smile.
"No, I really don't," I said, picking up Freddy, the year-old orange tabby cat and petting him gently.
"Where are they?" he asked.
"On vacation."
"Cats don't go on vacation, Havoc," he said, dangerous fake-smile in place.
"Well, it's not like we could've kept all of them. You're lucky we still have Freddy," I said, taking another puff.
"Well it's not like we could keep all your cigarettes. You're lucky we still have that last carton," he mimicked, causing me to jump in surprise. He did not throw away all my cigarettes. "See?" Oh, thank god he was joking.
"But can we please be realistic here?" I said, giving him a hug.
"I suppose you're right," he said, returning the embrace. Unfortunately for me, I forgot that Freddy was in my lap. Freddy was in my lap, being crushed between the hug. And he promptly told me so.
"We're getting him declawed, Al," I said, rubbing my stomach where I'd been scratched.
"No, we're not, it'll hurt him. Lots," he said, taking the creature and placing him on the floor.
"We're getting him declawed and neutered," There's no way in hell I'm taking the chance that we might get more cats.
"What if I said I threw all the lighter fluid away, replaced your smokes with those candy cigarettes, and wanted to have you neutered?" he bit back, untangling my arms from around him, and walking into the kitchen, presumably to feed the sole cat in our possession.
"You wouldn't say that," I said, laughing a little, "Right?"
"No, I wouldn't," he yelled from the kitchen, "Now are you ever going to quit smoking or what?"
"Are you ever going to stop bringing animals home?" I asked, and received no answer, "Right, then."
At around 9 o'clock that night, we had an unexpected visitor. Well, a dozen or so of them. And it was a good thing Al was out cold.
"Take them back," Hawkeye said, walking into the house in civilian clothing with a cardboard box. And it was mewing.
"No. No, no, no," I said, giving her back the mewing box of kittens, "And don't let Al hear them."
"I refuse to have these creatures in my building," she said, glaring icily at me, "There's no way Fuery can take care all of them."
That's when Breda decided to walk in with another box of them.
"Really, Jean, just take them to the kennel or something," he said, putting the box on the floor.
"Why couldn't you guys do that?" I said angrily.
"Because. Now, Fuery, come in here with that last box!" Hawkeye yelled, only to be met with nothing but the sound of mewing kittens and cats. "Fuery, start acting like a Sergeant Major and get your ass in here!"
"But why only five?!" he cried, finally coming in, hugging the box affectionately.
"Because I had seven in my apartment!" she countered, poking him in the chest angrily.
"And I had the other four!" Breda said, clapping the guy on the shoulder.
"Wait, wait, but I gave them all to Kain," I said, scratching my head, "Whatever, now what are we going to do with all of these—"
"Kitties!" Al said, bounding out of the bedroom in his PJs.
"Well, I have the perfect idea," Hawkeye said.
And Elysia Hughes was a very happy little girl the next day, unlike her father.
"Revenge is sweet."
So, this is it for the next one. I don't think I'll be able to write anything over this weekend, so goodbye for now!