FMA: Responsibility
Aug. 19th, 2006 03:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runespoorTitle: Responsibility
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
runespoor7
Characters/Pairings: Ed, Al. Elricest if you squint. A lot.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1100
Summary: It's an older brother's responsibility to be the one shouldering it.
People thought Al was the responsible one. Because he was calmer, quieter, and more thoughtful than his older brother, people generally assumed he was more responsible than Edward – snarling, frothing at the mouth, dashing forward with blade-shaped automail, golden eyes burning Edward.
It had been this way for a long, long time, Ed acknowledged every time that strangers mistook Al for him, and yeah so of course the additional fucking feet his brother had on him couldn't help that assumption any, not that there was anything wrong with Ed's size, but the armour was a fucking giant, towering over Ed and everyone else as not even his bastard father had done when he was just a kid, before the bastard turned tail and ran.
So there was Al's appearance, which sometimes Ed had to remind himself must look different to the rest of the world. Tall. Broad. Unshakable. Perhaps even imposing?...
Yes, people that had never met them had every right to believe Al was the one in charge.
But it still made him angry when he had to draw their attention away from Al – no, from the big bulking armour that dazzled them – ranting and fuming, never letting go until he saw no-one was looking at his brother anymore.
His moves were wilder, and his grin was wider, and he was not above tossing – flashing – his braid over his shoulder with arrogance when someone wasn't letting Al alone fast enough. Then he'd go on with his number with equal confidence, but he'd always watch for Al, out of the corner of his eye, and there was no mistaking that tiny straightening of Al's shoulders that, even as a child, meant a welcome release from tension. He'd witnessed it, that sudden relief, for as long as he could remember. As if Al had made himself smaller in front of the danger, and, once the threat had disappeared, he no longer needed to hide.
Now Al didn't visibly flinch anymore when confronted with something that made him uneasy, but Ed would have had to be blind – and deaf, and away – not to spot his little brother's physical discomfort. Sometimes Ed wondered how anyone could fail to pick it up – wasn't Al obvious? – before remembering that none of the on-lookers had known Al since he was born.
Ed did.
Ed had seen Al shrinking in front of too many people, as a small kid, to be able to stand there and do nothing as his little brother endured it – the steadily growing blush, the downcast eyes, the nervous voice. Pulling off something bigger than whatever his brother had done, Ed had found out, worked great. (Incredible how knocking over Pinako Rockbell's perfectly classified shelves with a guffaw could take her mind off from a broken window.)
When they were younger, it meant dramatically running off when Al asked uncomfortable questions about their jackass of a father, or causing enough of a ruckus that Sensei's searching eyes had to snap away from their detailing his petrified Al, or fucking things up, big time, with a loud laugh.
Today it meant laughing even louder and jumping at Mustang's throat, and taking a seemingly casual step forward to put himself between his brother and the people asking questions.
Strangers then realised what the people who already knew the Elrics had accepted.
The taller was actually the younger, the older bossed his sibling around like there was no tomorrow, and you'd better got used to that.
Edward Elric loved the attention. (But how many guessed, Ed wondered, that Al hated it, only content to earn it when he fixed radios or exposed a theory, with earnest, unfussy skill Ed had only ever found in his brother – as if everything he did wasn't actually worth the breath needed to praise it – not that all alchemists showed the same propensity to be impressed with themselves and blather on and on and on about their oh so incredible attacks as Colonel Bastard, but they could take a lesson or two in efficiency from his brother...)
And Al was the responsible one.
It was something that Ed could read easily in Mustang's eyes, who'd seen him at his most foolish on the night he'd practically succeeded in bloody fucking killing his brother, in Izumi's eyes, who'd confronted them countless times about human transfiguration and the need to keep reasonable hours even when you were slaving away on an unknown tome, and even in Winry's eyes, who'd seen the inscription engraved inside his watch and couldn't have not known what it meant.
Their eyes agreed to let Edward be the one in charge, the one with authority, the one who led the way, but they always looked to Al as the quieter one, the hesitating one, the moral one. The responsible one.
And if Al's more responsible nature was smothered by Ed's exuberant single-mindedness, well… Who could blame him?
That, too, Ed could glimpse at when strange glances would sneak from one brother to the other, feeling their weight as he calmly sipped his coffee while Al was sitting in front of him at the table, leather gloves resting on metal knees.
It didn't bother him that he shouldered, on his own, the entire responsibility of the whole mess, and that sometimes even those closest to them viewed him as the sole culprit. Just as calmly as before, seemingly oblivious to the sudden hostility, he'd put his mug back on the table, push his chair, and leave the room without a word, Al following him. Only then, alone with his brother and his bangs obscuring his face, he'd allow himself to smirk at the irony.
It didn't matter what people thought they understood about them, Ed repeated to himself whenever his promises to Al, in the deep of the night, sounded more desperate than in the light of day, because in Ed's and Al's minds lived a boy who became a dog to the military, who couldn't kill condemned prisoners to restore his brother, and another who accepted like evidence that he'd avenge his brother in a heartbeat if something happened to him, who'd been ready to tear a couple of limbs to hand them back to their rightful proprietary.
Boys with a common sin and a common goal, and tempers that lured them regularly to the bank of the river before mutual decisions were reached.
And maybe Ed was aware of it, somewhere, but when he mused about it, shame and guilt shoved the possibility from his mind before he had the time to watch the thought unfurl to its logical conclusion. Because, after all, he was the older one, and Al's body was his fault.
So Ed didn't mind that Al was the responsible one and that he was the culprit. He just lifted his suitcase and took the first step forward, between Al and what was coming next.
Pretending to lead the way.
Author:
runespoor7Characters/Pairings: Ed, Al. Elricest if you squint. A lot.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1100
Summary: It's an older brother's responsibility to be the one shouldering it.
People thought Al was the responsible one. Because he was calmer, quieter, and more thoughtful than his older brother, people generally assumed he was more responsible than Edward – snarling, frothing at the mouth, dashing forward with blade-shaped automail, golden eyes burning Edward.
It had been this way for a long, long time, Ed acknowledged every time that strangers mistook Al for him, and yeah so of course the additional fucking feet his brother had on him couldn't help that assumption any, not that there was anything wrong with Ed's size, but the armour was a fucking giant, towering over Ed and everyone else as not even his bastard father had done when he was just a kid, before the bastard turned tail and ran.
So there was Al's appearance, which sometimes Ed had to remind himself must look different to the rest of the world. Tall. Broad. Unshakable. Perhaps even imposing?...
Yes, people that had never met them had every right to believe Al was the one in charge.
But it still made him angry when he had to draw their attention away from Al – no, from the big bulking armour that dazzled them – ranting and fuming, never letting go until he saw no-one was looking at his brother anymore.
His moves were wilder, and his grin was wider, and he was not above tossing – flashing – his braid over his shoulder with arrogance when someone wasn't letting Al alone fast enough. Then he'd go on with his number with equal confidence, but he'd always watch for Al, out of the corner of his eye, and there was no mistaking that tiny straightening of Al's shoulders that, even as a child, meant a welcome release from tension. He'd witnessed it, that sudden relief, for as long as he could remember. As if Al had made himself smaller in front of the danger, and, once the threat had disappeared, he no longer needed to hide.
Now Al didn't visibly flinch anymore when confronted with something that made him uneasy, but Ed would have had to be blind – and deaf, and away – not to spot his little brother's physical discomfort. Sometimes Ed wondered how anyone could fail to pick it up – wasn't Al obvious? – before remembering that none of the on-lookers had known Al since he was born.
Ed did.
Ed had seen Al shrinking in front of too many people, as a small kid, to be able to stand there and do nothing as his little brother endured it – the steadily growing blush, the downcast eyes, the nervous voice. Pulling off something bigger than whatever his brother had done, Ed had found out, worked great. (Incredible how knocking over Pinako Rockbell's perfectly classified shelves with a guffaw could take her mind off from a broken window.)
When they were younger, it meant dramatically running off when Al asked uncomfortable questions about their jackass of a father, or causing enough of a ruckus that Sensei's searching eyes had to snap away from their detailing his petrified Al, or fucking things up, big time, with a loud laugh.
Today it meant laughing even louder and jumping at Mustang's throat, and taking a seemingly casual step forward to put himself between his brother and the people asking questions.
Strangers then realised what the people who already knew the Elrics had accepted.
The taller was actually the younger, the older bossed his sibling around like there was no tomorrow, and you'd better got used to that.
Edward Elric loved the attention. (But how many guessed, Ed wondered, that Al hated it, only content to earn it when he fixed radios or exposed a theory, with earnest, unfussy skill Ed had only ever found in his brother – as if everything he did wasn't actually worth the breath needed to praise it – not that all alchemists showed the same propensity to be impressed with themselves and blather on and on and on about their oh so incredible attacks as Colonel Bastard, but they could take a lesson or two in efficiency from his brother...)
And Al was the responsible one.
It was something that Ed could read easily in Mustang's eyes, who'd seen him at his most foolish on the night he'd practically succeeded in bloody fucking killing his brother, in Izumi's eyes, who'd confronted them countless times about human transfiguration and the need to keep reasonable hours even when you were slaving away on an unknown tome, and even in Winry's eyes, who'd seen the inscription engraved inside his watch and couldn't have not known what it meant.
Their eyes agreed to let Edward be the one in charge, the one with authority, the one who led the way, but they always looked to Al as the quieter one, the hesitating one, the moral one. The responsible one.
And if Al's more responsible nature was smothered by Ed's exuberant single-mindedness, well… Who could blame him?
That, too, Ed could glimpse at when strange glances would sneak from one brother to the other, feeling their weight as he calmly sipped his coffee while Al was sitting in front of him at the table, leather gloves resting on metal knees.
It didn't bother him that he shouldered, on his own, the entire responsibility of the whole mess, and that sometimes even those closest to them viewed him as the sole culprit. Just as calmly as before, seemingly oblivious to the sudden hostility, he'd put his mug back on the table, push his chair, and leave the room without a word, Al following him. Only then, alone with his brother and his bangs obscuring his face, he'd allow himself to smirk at the irony.
It didn't matter what people thought they understood about them, Ed repeated to himself whenever his promises to Al, in the deep of the night, sounded more desperate than in the light of day, because in Ed's and Al's minds lived a boy who became a dog to the military, who couldn't kill condemned prisoners to restore his brother, and another who accepted like evidence that he'd avenge his brother in a heartbeat if something happened to him, who'd been ready to tear a couple of limbs to hand them back to their rightful proprietary.
Boys with a common sin and a common goal, and tempers that lured them regularly to the bank of the river before mutual decisions were reached.
And maybe Ed was aware of it, somewhere, but when he mused about it, shame and guilt shoved the possibility from his mind before he had the time to watch the thought unfurl to its logical conclusion. Because, after all, he was the older one, and Al's body was his fault.
So Ed didn't mind that Al was the responsible one and that he was the culprit. He just lifted his suitcase and took the first step forward, between Al and what was coming next.
Pretending to lead the way.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 02:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 09:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 03:35 am (UTC)Hope to see more of your fics in the future! ^^
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Date: 2006-08-19 09:52 am (UTC)torture himmess with. :Dno subject
Date: 2006-08-19 03:40 am (UTC)Favorite sentence:
His moves were wilder, and his grin was wider, and he was not above tossing – flashing – his braid over his shoulder with arrogance when someone wasn't letting Al alone fast enough.
Thank you for sharing it!
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Date: 2006-08-19 09:57 am (UTC)I'm really glad you liked it. Thanks! ^^
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Date: 2006-08-19 03:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 10:04 am (UTC)It's nice to know it worked!
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Date: 2006-08-19 04:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 10:05 am (UTC)