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Ready steady can't hold me back~
More Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed-centric this time. Because we all need to get in touch with our inner bitchy little German alchemists from time to time. Mostly though, just trying to get a feel for the guy...
It was a little known fact that Edward Elric hated baths.
He wasn’t averse to the concept of water, mind. He had nothing against water at all. He liked water to drink (after a long, hot trip), he liked water as an element (at a distance), and (on occasion) a useful tool. He just avoided baths whenever he could, preferred showers, saw more sense in them, saw a hell of a lot more sense in them actually, but (there were always buts, and more often than not they always served to irritate) when faced with the first inn for three days walk in a raging dust storm on that near deserted road after missing the bus after it drove off after he…mildly corrected the driver over expecting the child’s fare (the coward), Edward Elric stared into the cracked yellowing tub and considered just forgetting the whole thing. He could wait until they got back to East City, and it wasn’t like Al could tell him he smelled like a pig anyway. Al was just making himself as comfortable as he could in the one other room, settling by the window, with a sound of scraping metal on the creaky wooden floorboards.
…Hell.
Ed drew the water, threw his filthy jacket over the chair, sat down in it, unbuckled his boots and considered, very briefly, if there was enough metal in that faucet and down through the pipes to yank a showerhead out of the damn thing. He doubted it, with the way the place was set up. When the sign on the shaky door said cheap it meant cheap—and an alchemist of all people knew not to expect so much for so little.
Edward Elric didn’t like baths for a very practical reason--he remembered the moment he slid in, his heavy heel settled against the bottom with a loud clunk (dead weight), and he had to grit his teeth leaning back, arms hooked over the sides (for dear life), feeling the cold (emphasis on cold) surface against his bare shoulder blade. The water was still and hot around him, and it turned his skin red up to his chest as he found the flakey lump of soup that had been oh-so-considerately left for the patron brave enough to have made the venture. It took longer than he would have liked, scrubbing out all of the dust—it had caked in his joints and in the end, he had to lower his arm down into the water after all. The bubbles came out from between his knuckles as he curled his fingers it into a fist. He remembered the reason exactly, under soaked bangs, thinking just how much more he really would’ve liked a shower, even a cruddy one, even if it was almost always too hot or too cold down his back and in his eyes, because at least then, even if it stung, it never felt like he could drown.
It was a little known fact that Edward Elric hated baths.
He wasn’t averse to the concept of water, mind. He had nothing against water at all. He liked water to drink (after a long, hot trip), he liked water as an element (at a distance), and (on occasion) a useful tool. He just avoided baths whenever he could, preferred showers, saw more sense in them, saw a hell of a lot more sense in them actually, but (there were always buts, and more often than not they always served to irritate) when faced with the first inn for three days walk in a raging dust storm on that near deserted road after missing the bus after it drove off after he…mildly corrected the driver over expecting the child’s fare (the coward), Edward Elric stared into the cracked yellowing tub and considered just forgetting the whole thing. He could wait until they got back to East City, and it wasn’t like Al could tell him he smelled like a pig anyway. Al was just making himself as comfortable as he could in the one other room, settling by the window, with a sound of scraping metal on the creaky wooden floorboards.
…Hell.
Ed drew the water, threw his filthy jacket over the chair, sat down in it, unbuckled his boots and considered, very briefly, if there was enough metal in that faucet and down through the pipes to yank a showerhead out of the damn thing. He doubted it, with the way the place was set up. When the sign on the shaky door said cheap it meant cheap—and an alchemist of all people knew not to expect so much for so little.
Edward Elric didn’t like baths for a very practical reason--he remembered the moment he slid in, his heavy heel settled against the bottom with a loud clunk (dead weight), and he had to grit his teeth leaning back, arms hooked over the sides (for dear life), feeling the cold (emphasis on cold) surface against his bare shoulder blade. The water was still and hot around him, and it turned his skin red up to his chest as he found the flakey lump of soup that had been oh-so-considerately left for the patron brave enough to have made the venture. It took longer than he would have liked, scrubbing out all of the dust—it had caked in his joints and in the end, he had to lower his arm down into the water after all. The bubbles came out from between his knuckles as he curled his fingers it into a fist. He remembered the reason exactly, under soaked bangs, thinking just how much more he really would’ve liked a shower, even a cruddy one, even if it was almost always too hot or too cold down his back and in his eyes, because at least then, even if it stung, it never felt like he could drown.
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When the sign on the shaky door said cheap it meant cheap—and an alchemist of all people knew not to expect so much for so little.
Keep up the good work! (That is to say: omg! i luv it, right more plz!!!1)
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Just one small thing - I think that having '(dead weight)' in the beginning of the last paragraph is a bit overkill - hints at the point a bit too soon. I think that even without that line, the words used are heavy enough to keep the ending from feeling too out-of-the-blue. Just my personal opinion.
That said, I love this little ficlet. I think it's very much in character for Edward - thank you for posting it! :)
~~Vikki
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