Guess who's graduating college today? (Literally today, cause apparently I don't have anything better to do than post fanfiction this morning *upside down smile*) Anyway, exciting! And scary! And sad! But quite exciting!

Ch 18: Warm Soup

Rated K+ for illness

Characters: Edward, Alphonse

Timeline: BH/Manga

Notes: who wants wholesome with a side of whump? Me! I do!

Anyway, I was having kinda a hard time coming up with ideas for this one, and my roommate was trying to get me to challenge myself…and then I came up with the world's most generic plot. I promised her I'd do something more out-there eventually, but this was just too cute to pass up. It takes place shortly after the Elrics leave Resembool. Even with as independent as they are, they're still kids; I imagine the first time Ed got sick without the aid of an adult nearby really freaked Al out. How'd they deal with it? Here's an idea…

"I told you, Al, I'm fine!"

Twelve-year-old Edward Elric had been making this declaration on repeat for the last half hour, but no matter how many times he said it, the facts weren't going to change.

"No, you're not!" Alphonse cried. "You threw up three times, Brother! And you have a fever!"

"I'm not sick! I—" Edward took a gulping breath, winded from yelling. "I'm okay!" He flopped back on his squeaky military bed. "It's probably just a little cold."

"You don't throw up like this when you have colds. I think it's something more serious. You have to stay in bed!"

"No…We have to go to the library and keep researching!" Edward had only gotten out of his trial stage of military life a few weeks ago, and he was eating up all his State Alchemist privileges like candy. Spending every moment he wasn't doing something for Mustang at the library, inhaling books he'd only ever heard about.

"We can take a break for one day, Ed. Or for however many days it takes for you to get better. You're more important than research!"

"Nothing's more important than finding the philosopher's stone." Ed dragged his hand down his warm, flushed face. "I don't have time to get sick…" The truth was, he knew Al was right. It didn't feel like just a cold; he felt awful. This same thing had happened to him when they went to train with Izumi; the change in environment tested the strength of his immune system with its regional illnesses. For the first couple months living in Dublith, he had caught a few illnesses that weren't common in Resembool, and so had Al. But this time, Al didn't have an immune system to compromise, so it was just Ed reacting to the new viruses and bacteria in East City.

In all likelihood, he had caught some sort of stomach virus native to this area, and it was wreaking havoc on him. He felt all weak and achy, a constant storm of nausea swirled in his gut, and he was freezing despite his apparent fever. Even still, he just didn't want to admit how bad it was.

"Brother…" Al said, deceptively calm.

Ed looked up at the steel armor, suddenly wary. Al only got that tone when he was mad at Ed…

"You're so…so…stupid!" Al yelled. "You can't find the philosopher's stone if you don't take care of yourself! You need to rest! Granny's not here anymore to take care of us! We have to do it ourselves!"

Ed sighed and closed his eyes, hearing the fear in his little brother's voice. He couldn't be standoffish anymore, now that Al was upset. "I know, Al. I'm sorry for making you deal with this."

"You misunderstand, Brother. I want to help you. I just…I don't know how."

Edward suddenly felt his own little flash of helplessness, realizing he wasn't entirely sure how to take care of himself, either. He and Al had been living without a real parental figure for seven years now and they'd learned a lot in terms of taking care of each other. But even still, they always had Granny to help when things got really rough. They were never truly alone, despite feeling like it once their mother died. There was always someone there for them, even if they couldn't admit it.

And now—they weren't even teenagers yet, for heaven's sake, and here they were, off on their own. They were always independent and smart boys, yes, but this was the first time they were really having to live like adults. Ed thought all those years without Mom had prepared him for this, but he was finally starting to see how much he still needed someone there to give him guidance, to show him what to do.

…Not that he would ever tell Alphonse any of this. He felt bad enough already about uprooting their lives like he had. He didn't need to admit that he also felt unprepared for it, no matter how strong his resolve was to fix things. He would get over it; he was positive by the next year, they'd be expert adults.

But for now…

He really hated how much he felt like an incompetent little kid.

"...I don't really know how to either, Al." Ed finally replied. He laid back on his bed, wanting to bundle himself under the covers despite knowing that wouldn't help.

"Should we call Colonel Mustang?" Al asked.

"No," Ed replied forcefully, before sighing and lightening his tone. He couldn't be upset at Al for wanting to pass this on to an adult. "No…like you said, we're on our own now, so we need to learn to take care of problems ourselves."

"But what if we can't handle it?" Al asked, fear still in his voice.

Ed softened his tone further. "I don't think it'll get that bad. But, if you really feel like you can't handle it, we can call the bastard." It made Ed cringe to imagine calling that man for help, but he supposed there were worse things in life…like upset little brothers, for example.

"Okay…okay…" Al said, calming down. He wrung his hands nervously. "Um…how do you feel?"

Ed almost said "alright", before remembering the circumstances. "Not as bad as when I woke up, but…not good."

"Can I take your temperature again?" Al asked, holding up the thermometer. Ed nodded and Al offered him the glass stick (he didn't dare hold it too long himself for fear of breaking it).

Ed held it under his tongue for a minute before pulling it out to read. "I think…it's almost a hundred and two."

"Okay, that's not better but it's not worse…" Al muttered to himself. "What did Mom always do…get a cold washcloth? Yeah." He left for the bathroom, returning a minute later with a damp cloth. He set it on Ed's forehead. "Tell me when it gets warm and I'll resoak it."

"Thanks," Ed replied.

"Are you hungry at all?"

"I don't know. Kinda, but I'm worried I'll throw up again."

"Hmm," Al thought for a moment. "Maybe I can make you some soup. That's easy on the stomach, isn't it?"

"Soup sounds good…" Ed smiled lightly.

"Okay, I'll get something from the market and make some. In the meantime, maybe you could try to sleep."

"Yeah…" Even as he spoke, Ed's eyes had started drooping shut. Maybe that was why Al had said that in the first place… Ed watched his brother grab some money and head out, allowing his eyes to close once the younger boy was gone.

He was awoken some time later to the feeling of a large hand softly shaking his shoulder. He looked up, seeing Alphonse's somehow apologetic face leaning over him.

"Brother, I'm sorry to wake you, but I got some medicine at the store and thought you might want to take some," Al said.

Ed thought about this for a moment. Like most kids, he didn't like taking medicine; its flavor and texture were gross. But he also remembered Mom—and Granny, and Izumi—promising it would make him feel better, and they were always right. He nodded, and Al came back a minute later with a spoonful of syrup and a glass of water.

Edward sat up, grimacing as the change in orientation made his nausea flare. He took the spoon and quickly swallowed the medicine, then took a gulp of water to get rid of the taste. "Egh."

"Do you feel any better than when I left?" Al asked, taking the spoon back.

"Maybe a little…" Edward replied, pulling his blanket up around himself. He didn't feel good, by any stretch of the word, but he didn't feel worse.

Al's posture softened with relief. "Good…" Al said, nodding. "Hopefully the medicine will help, and then the soup will help even more. I'm going to make it now that you took your medicine. Is that okay?"

Ed couldn't help but smile a little at Al's asking of his approval. "Yeah. I'm probably going to go back to sleep until it's ready."

"Okay." Al nodded again. "Yell if you need anything."

Ed promised to do so, but it wasn't necessary; he ended up being awoken again by Al's hand some time later.

"Hi, Brother," Al said. "The soup is ready? Do you think you can eat some?"

Ed thought for a moment, gauging how he felt. He could tell he still had a fever and body aches, but the medicine had definitely helped settle his stomach, which was the worst symptom by far. And without all the nausea, he could finally tell how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten in almost fifteen hours now, and he definitely needed the nutrients. He was still a little worried that eating would make him throw up again, but it seemed well worth the risk at this point. "Yeah, I think so."

Al left to fetch the soup and Ed situated himself better in bed. Al came back with a steaming bowl and handed it to his brother.

"I didn't know what to make so I figured chicken noodle is always the classic." The younger boy shifted his weight awkwardly. "I…I really hope it's alright. Y'know, since I couldn't taste-test it…"

A little ball of guilt settled in Ed's chest. It was always there, but moments like this, he was reminded of its presence. He knew Al didn't mean anything bad by his statement, but Ed couldn't help but feel awful about it anyway. As he did every time he was reminded of his little brother's armor prison, he silently reaffirmed to himself that he would fix it, as soon as he could.

But as it was now, he promised not to care if the soup wasn't good. Edward wasn't picky anyway (as long as the devil's cow juice wasn't involved) so he doubted he would actually dislike anything Alphonse made. Even if Al had the ability to taste, they had never really made food themselves before; Ed would never expect anything amazing from cooks as inexperienced as himself and his brother.

Edward stuck his spoon in the soup and blew on it. It looked like any good old chicken noodle soup, with yellowish broth, long thin noodles, bits of vegetables and chicken. As far as the taste, there wasn't a whole lot of seasoning…but the broth was hot and wonderfully soothing to Ed's sore throat. He sighed contentedly and swallowed several more spoonfuls.

"Is it okay?" Al asked.

"It's perfect," Ed replied, and he meant it. It left a pleasant warmth in his stomach, and was gentle enough so as not to upset him again. He didn't quite eat all of it since he hadn't eaten in a long time, but Al seemed genuinely happy that Ed liked it, and that was all that mattered.

"I'm just happy I was able to help you…I was so worried," Al admitted.

"I know, Al," Ed replied, recalling their earlier conversation. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Brother," Al said, an eye roll audible in his voice. "I told you I wanted to help. And…I think we did alright on our own…"

Ed smiled a little at the rising confidence in Al's voice. He still felt terrible for putting them in this situation, but Al was right. They were doing alright—and they would continue to do so, until the day came when they were together and whole once again.

sorry for the hiatus there, I had a lot of stuff to finish up my last few weeks of school. But it's done now (almost!) See you next chapter!