|The Knight in Slightly Tarnished Armor (yuuo) wrote in chaotic_library,|
@ 2008-02-15 03:44:00
|Current music:||Josh Woodward - Methylchloroisothiazolinone|
|Entry tags:||alfons heiderich, edward elric, fma, fma: alternate post-anime timeline, heid x ed, multi-parter, post-series, r-rated, short story, slash, y-daysoftheweek, yuuo, yuuo: fma|
[Edward Elric x Alfons Heiderich; R] Methylchloroisothiazolinone
Character/Series: Edward Elric/Alfons Heiderich; Fullmetal Alchemist
Notes: When I sat down to write this, I had no idea where it was going. It fleshed itself out a bit, but it was fun for awhile, having no idea where this was taking me. First chapter, written for daysoftheweek, theme Monday- dealing with something unpleasant.' Spoilers for the full series, wildly deviates from the movie. I apologize already for the insane chapter title, but I couldn't help myself. Just don't try to say it three times fast.
Music: Methylchloroisothiazolinone by Josh Woodward
Title: Monday, Tuesday, Happy Days (What A Crock of Shit)
Subtitle: Part 1: Methylchloroisothiazolinone
Word Count: 6138
Summary: Cold winter light streamed in through the open curtain of the window.
"I lather and rinse and repeat.
You leave me feeling complete.
Go away, go away, go away.
You make me feel so clean.
You make me kick and scream.
You make me, you make me-
You make me feel so clean."
-"Methylchloroisothiazolinone"; Josh Woodward
Monday, November 05, 1923
Cold winter light streamed in through the open curtain of the window. The person on the bed made a noise of protest as the light pulled him out of sleep, and he pulled the covers up over his head, trying to curl down tighter under their minimal warmth.
"Edward! Get up!"
Wondering if his roommate would give up on him if he just refused to answer, Edward cocooned himself further into the rather threadbare blanket and sheets. Hell, if the rest of this miserable world would get the hint too, that'd be great.
Okay, so he wouldn't.
Alfons's voice sounded like the younger man was standing in the doorway. And if the footsteps were any indication, he'd just walked closer to the bed. "Edward, you promised. It's Monday, remember?"
Christ. Monday. That's right. Reluctantly, Edward peeked out from under the covers, giving Alfons a baleful look. "It's cold," he protested grumpily.
The German sighed with annoyance, as he did every day that Edward whined about getting up (and that's what he was doing, he damn well knew it, and he could admit it), then grabbed the covers and yanked them back, letting a blast of cold morning air hit Edward's bare skin full-on. Edward yelped, flailed and trying to grab the covers back. "You know, if you slept with clothes on, you might not get so cold," Alfons scolded, dropping the blankets to the floor and standing back, arms crossed.
Edward gave him a positively sour look. "Nobody asked you," he snapped, grabbing the covers off the floor and wrapping them around his shoulders, trying to huddle down under them, although he was admittedly sitting up at least. Under protest, of course. "Besides, usually you're tellin' me to take them off."
For some reason, Edward took a bit of sadistic delight watching how red Alfons turned at that remark. "Only at night. Now come on, you promised."
Just because he felt like further being a petulant brat about it, Edward didn't answer right away, but finally he sighed, shoving back the blankets and fishing around under the bed for where his clothes had gotten kicked in his mad scramble to get into bed the night before. "Fine, fine. I'm up, I'm coming."
"You're going to want a shower," Alfons said, watching him, then frowned. "And don't you have anything clean to wear?"
That earned him more than just a sour look, that earned him an outright glare. "Why does it matter so damn much?" he asked, standing up and pulling on the rumpled shirt.
Alfons matched his bullheadedness. "Because you look like you just woke up in a back alley, and you smell like it, too."
For a fraction of a second, Edward didn't react, and the next moment, his shirt was being introduced to Alfons's face in an annoyed snit as Edward abandoned the dirty clothes and stormed to the bathroom. Behind him, he could hear Alfons's long-suffering sigh.
The old pipes rattled in protest as he turned on the water, yelping at the shock of the cold- Jesus Christ, what happened to the fucking hot water?! -and hurried to adjust the temperature, yelling a string of obscenities for Alfons's long-suffering benefit.
As his usual luck would have it, the water was finally warm enough to be tolerable, and maybe even outright pleasant by the time Edward was done. Miserable, no good, rotten plumbing. Shutting off the water and grabbing a towel for his hair, Edward hurried back to his room, dripping water down the hall because he knew it drove Alfons batshit.
Alfons had laid fresh clothes out on his bed for him, apparently right after making the bed and removing the dirty clothes from Edward's temptation.
Edward really wanted to know how that man managed to be a smartass by being sweet.
He emerged from his room a few minutes later, leaving his wet towel on his floor because that also drove Alfons crazy, and wandered barefoot into the kitchen area of the tiny apartment, looking to see if Alfons had started breakfast.
He hadn't. Probably because the bastard knew that drove Edward crazy. They were a match made in heaven.
Or somewhere, anyway.
Alfons seemed to make a point of not noticing him from behind his paper as he did most mornings until Edward had reached the table and, tired of waiting, gone around and yanked the paper from Alfons's hands. "Oh! Good, I see you found the clothes I laid out for you."
Edward tossed the paper aside. "I would've had to be trying to miss them. You didn't start breakfast?" He never, ever, ever did.
God. That man had such a disarming smile, even when Edward was annoyed at him, it made Edward's stomach tie up into pleasant little knots. "I was waiting for you."
Oh no. Edward wasn't going to let him win this early in the morning. He was up, he was showered and dressed cleanly for something he didn't want to do anyway, Alfons was just going to have to fight harder if he wanted to win against Edward Elric in a match of stubborness. "You were lost in that paper again, is what you were doing."
"Mm," Alfons agreed, eyeing the discarded paper on the ground. "So I was. It was a fairly interesting paper today."
"You always say that and you're always full of shit," Edward snapped, digging around in the icebox. "Are you going to get up and make breakfast, or do you really want me trying to cook?" That oughta get him up and moving his lazy ass.
Ha. Just as Edward predicted, Alfons was up fast enough to almost upend the chair at that. "God no. Step away from the icebox, Edward."
Victory was his. For the moment, anyway. Alfons was sure to steal it later, but for now, Edward savored it like a cat that just ate the canary. "What, you don't like my cooking?" Rubbing it in was also rather fun because like so many other obnoxious little things Edward did, it drove Alfons completely crazy.
Right up the wall and down Edward's throat. (That would come later tonight, of course.) Alfons took his turn at the sour looks. "I'd prefer my food to not remind me of coal, Edward."
"Your loss." Edward picked up the newspaper from the floor and settled at the table to read it while Alfons cooked. Rubbing it in really was so much fun.