happy four
Oct. 6th, 2004 03:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mikkenekoOkay, here's the start of it. Be prepared to die of sap overdose. If you're not too interested in Al/Winry, never fear -- neither am I. All is not as it seems. *grins*
Title: Ménage
Warnings (in this part): Sap, fluff, domestic Al, chibis, het
Pairings: Al/Winry
Category: Fluff
The first rays of dawn were just peeking in through the east-facing windows of the kitchen when Al padded in, sleepy-eyed, from the bedroom.
He suppressed a yawn, wincing in the clear light, and went to pour himself a kettle full of water, and put it on the stove to boil. There was -- he squinted into the crockery pot -- still tea left, and satisfied that he wouldn't have to suffer any ordeals this morning, he leaned against the edge of the counter, waiting for the water to boil.
This early, and without caffeine, he found his thoughts moving at a slow pace, with occasional soft fades between moments of consciousness. He didn't mind. The kitchen was a little chilly, the floor cold against his bare feet, but the stove radiated heat, and early morning sunlight slanted in through the windows. He heard the faint chirp of birdsong, quickly overwhelmed by the rising whistle of the kettle.
It was just him, and the cool morning air and the kitchen and his tea, and as much as he loved his family, Alphonse Elric wouldn't have traded these moments alone for anything. He smiled as he picked up the kettle and poured himself a mug of tea, quickly setting it back down on the stove to stay hot while he steeped and drank the first cup.
The hot tea woke up his mouth and his stomach, and after a few minutes the caffeine began to wake up the rest of him. He glanced up at the softly ticking clock; quarter to six. At least half an hour before he had to start making breakfast, he calculated, and went back to communing with his tea in peace.
Around six o'clock he heard a stumbling thump in the hallway, and smiled around his tea. He got up to turn the heat up on the kettle again, and to get out a mug and the coffee for Winry.
However, it wasn't a grumpy young blond woman who stumbled into the kitchen, but a yawning, bleary-eyed little boy. The cause of the stumbling was easily explained; the boy was dragging his blanket around with him, wrapped around his neck, and it kept catching on things and pulling them over.
"Terry?" he said with some surprise, setting the kettle back down again. "What are you doing up at this hour?" A quick glance showed he hadn't lost track of things; it was still only a little after six.
"Papa?" The word was interrupted by another yawn, and Terry pulled the blanket over his shoulder.
"Something wake you up, squirt?" Al smiled, crouching down in front of the boy and ruffling his hair.
"Whacking blue dragon," Terry said plainly.
"Huh?" Al blinked at the kid. Okay, that was a little inexplicable, even at this hour of the morning. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, brow furrowing with worry.
"Uh-uh," Terry said, shaking his head. His messy brown hair tumbled into sleepy golden eyes, and Al smiled as he smoothed it back again. Terry folded back the blanket to reveal an armful of stripy black and gray kitten. Its cover blown, the kitten immediately began to purr noisily.
Al laughed, and reached out to take the cat from the little boy's arms. "I see," he said. "Zebby, you silly kit, if you want to be fed, come and find me, don't bother the kids. They can't feed you anyway."
After petting for a moment, he put it aside, and turned back to Terry. "You should probably go back to bed," he said, "or your mama will worry, won't she?"
Terry nodded, covering another yawn. His eyes were closing sleepily, and he swayed on his feet. Smiling, Al picked him up, draping the blanket over his own shoulder for safe carrying. He immediately stumbled and had to bite back a curse; Zebby had an unerring instinct for getting under the feet of anyone trying to carry things.
With a lot of foot-shuffling and whispered words that barely managed to stay in the civil range of things, Al managed to maneuver Terry back to his bedroom and tucked him back in. He dropped the blanket back over Terry, nudging one corner towards the boy's hand until in his sleep he registered its presence and grabbed.
Al straightened up, nearly tripped over the kitten again, and had to make a quick grab to scoop her up before she could jump back onto the child's bed and wake him up again. "Oh, no you don't," he muttered. "You're coming with me. I guess I'd better feed you, or you'll roust them all out of bed, and I'll have a kitchen full of kids. Ah, for such a small cat, you're such a lot of trouble."
Still talking softly to the kitten, he made his way back to the kitchen, where he dropped Zebby onto the floor and began poking through the cupboards for the cat food. When the proper food-noises were being made, Zebby seemed in no hurry to bother the kids; the other cats also came peeling in from wherever they'd been sleeping in the house. Two more cats, one black and one rusty brown; at least one unaccounted for, either outside or too lazy to get up for breakfast. Al left another bowl for him.
Cats fed, Al glanced at the clock and decided it was time to start feeding people. His brother would sleep till noon if allowed (not that he was usually allowed) but some people had jobs to get to and needed breakfast.
He got out the frying pan with vague thoughts of pancakes, but when he went to look, they were low on flour, so he switched to eggs instead. Someone would have to go shopping soon, he noted, and quickly marshaled a few excuses why it wouldn't be him. There were some advantages to staying on top of things, namely that you had a head start on getting out of the way.
Eggs were frying busily in the skillet when Winry stumbled in, bumping against the doorframe on her way in as per usual. Al smiled, and carefully stayed turned towards the stove so she wouldn't see; there was a reason he'd expected early morning crashing noises to be followed by her.
"Good morning, Winry," he said with humor as she flopped down at the table.
"Morning," Winry grunted in return. "Don't see what's good about it."
"Eggs and sausage," Al said promptly, maneuvering a fork under one of the yolks so he could flip them. The delicious smell of cooking eggs floated out from the pan, and Al had designs on the cold sausage lying in wait for their turn. He stole a nibble from the end of one, not minding that it was cold, not minding at all. He could feel that it was cold, he could taste the salty flavor on his tongue, he could smell the eggs in the pan, feel the heat wafting up to strike him in the face.
It had been five years and these things still never ceased to amaze him. Although they usually made sure that chores and labor were divided up equally, Alphonse always ended up making breakfast for them all.
"Sausage," Winry said, coming up to peer over his shoulder. "Bacon?" she said hopefully.
Al shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, it's frozen," he said. "I can thaw some out for you, if you really want it," he offered.
"Nah." Winry draped herself over his shoulders, and yawned in his ear. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of her morning breath, not overpowering but not fun either, but couldn't keep from smiling. He shrugged back a little, not to push her away but to tuck himself under her arms more tightly, and could feel her amused humm vibrating through his collarbone as she settled her chin on his shoulder and watched the eggs cook.
~tbc~
Title: Ménage
Warnings (in this part): Sap, fluff, domestic Al, chibis, het
Pairings: Al/Winry
Category: Fluff
The first rays of dawn were just peeking in through the east-facing windows of the kitchen when Al padded in, sleepy-eyed, from the bedroom.
He suppressed a yawn, wincing in the clear light, and went to pour himself a kettle full of water, and put it on the stove to boil. There was -- he squinted into the crockery pot -- still tea left, and satisfied that he wouldn't have to suffer any ordeals this morning, he leaned against the edge of the counter, waiting for the water to boil.
This early, and without caffeine, he found his thoughts moving at a slow pace, with occasional soft fades between moments of consciousness. He didn't mind. The kitchen was a little chilly, the floor cold against his bare feet, but the stove radiated heat, and early morning sunlight slanted in through the windows. He heard the faint chirp of birdsong, quickly overwhelmed by the rising whistle of the kettle.
It was just him, and the cool morning air and the kitchen and his tea, and as much as he loved his family, Alphonse Elric wouldn't have traded these moments alone for anything. He smiled as he picked up the kettle and poured himself a mug of tea, quickly setting it back down on the stove to stay hot while he steeped and drank the first cup.
The hot tea woke up his mouth and his stomach, and after a few minutes the caffeine began to wake up the rest of him. He glanced up at the softly ticking clock; quarter to six. At least half an hour before he had to start making breakfast, he calculated, and went back to communing with his tea in peace.
Around six o'clock he heard a stumbling thump in the hallway, and smiled around his tea. He got up to turn the heat up on the kettle again, and to get out a mug and the coffee for Winry.
However, it wasn't a grumpy young blond woman who stumbled into the kitchen, but a yawning, bleary-eyed little boy. The cause of the stumbling was easily explained; the boy was dragging his blanket around with him, wrapped around his neck, and it kept catching on things and pulling them over.
"Terry?" he said with some surprise, setting the kettle back down again. "What are you doing up at this hour?" A quick glance showed he hadn't lost track of things; it was still only a little after six.
"Papa?" The word was interrupted by another yawn, and Terry pulled the blanket over his shoulder.
"Something wake you up, squirt?" Al smiled, crouching down in front of the boy and ruffling his hair.
"Whacking blue dragon," Terry said plainly.
"Huh?" Al blinked at the kid. Okay, that was a little inexplicable, even at this hour of the morning. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, brow furrowing with worry.
"Uh-uh," Terry said, shaking his head. His messy brown hair tumbled into sleepy golden eyes, and Al smiled as he smoothed it back again. Terry folded back the blanket to reveal an armful of stripy black and gray kitten. Its cover blown, the kitten immediately began to purr noisily.
Al laughed, and reached out to take the cat from the little boy's arms. "I see," he said. "Zebby, you silly kit, if you want to be fed, come and find me, don't bother the kids. They can't feed you anyway."
After petting for a moment, he put it aside, and turned back to Terry. "You should probably go back to bed," he said, "or your mama will worry, won't she?"
Terry nodded, covering another yawn. His eyes were closing sleepily, and he swayed on his feet. Smiling, Al picked him up, draping the blanket over his own shoulder for safe carrying. He immediately stumbled and had to bite back a curse; Zebby had an unerring instinct for getting under the feet of anyone trying to carry things.
With a lot of foot-shuffling and whispered words that barely managed to stay in the civil range of things, Al managed to maneuver Terry back to his bedroom and tucked him back in. He dropped the blanket back over Terry, nudging one corner towards the boy's hand until in his sleep he registered its presence and grabbed.
Al straightened up, nearly tripped over the kitten again, and had to make a quick grab to scoop her up before she could jump back onto the child's bed and wake him up again. "Oh, no you don't," he muttered. "You're coming with me. I guess I'd better feed you, or you'll roust them all out of bed, and I'll have a kitchen full of kids. Ah, for such a small cat, you're such a lot of trouble."
Still talking softly to the kitten, he made his way back to the kitchen, where he dropped Zebby onto the floor and began poking through the cupboards for the cat food. When the proper food-noises were being made, Zebby seemed in no hurry to bother the kids; the other cats also came peeling in from wherever they'd been sleeping in the house. Two more cats, one black and one rusty brown; at least one unaccounted for, either outside or too lazy to get up for breakfast. Al left another bowl for him.
Cats fed, Al glanced at the clock and decided it was time to start feeding people. His brother would sleep till noon if allowed (not that he was usually allowed) but some people had jobs to get to and needed breakfast.
He got out the frying pan with vague thoughts of pancakes, but when he went to look, they were low on flour, so he switched to eggs instead. Someone would have to go shopping soon, he noted, and quickly marshaled a few excuses why it wouldn't be him. There were some advantages to staying on top of things, namely that you had a head start on getting out of the way.
Eggs were frying busily in the skillet when Winry stumbled in, bumping against the doorframe on her way in as per usual. Al smiled, and carefully stayed turned towards the stove so she wouldn't see; there was a reason he'd expected early morning crashing noises to be followed by her.
"Good morning, Winry," he said with humor as she flopped down at the table.
"Morning," Winry grunted in return. "Don't see what's good about it."
"Eggs and sausage," Al said promptly, maneuvering a fork under one of the yolks so he could flip them. The delicious smell of cooking eggs floated out from the pan, and Al had designs on the cold sausage lying in wait for their turn. He stole a nibble from the end of one, not minding that it was cold, not minding at all. He could feel that it was cold, he could taste the salty flavor on his tongue, he could smell the eggs in the pan, feel the heat wafting up to strike him in the face.
It had been five years and these things still never ceased to amaze him. Although they usually made sure that chores and labor were divided up equally, Alphonse always ended up making breakfast for them all.
"Sausage," Winry said, coming up to peer over his shoulder. "Bacon?" she said hopefully.
Al shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, it's frozen," he said. "I can thaw some out for you, if you really want it," he offered.
"Nah." Winry draped herself over his shoulders, and yawned in his ear. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of her morning breath, not overpowering but not fun either, but couldn't keep from smiling. He shrugged back a little, not to push her away but to tuck himself under her arms more tightly, and could feel her amused humm vibrating through his collarbone as she settled her chin on his shoulder and watched the eggs cook.
~tbc~