♌ sudama, corrupter of peppers. (su_dama) wrote in fm_alchemist,
♌ sudama, corrupter of peppers.

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Ed/Al oneshot

Title: Bath-time
Genre: child-like innocence shounen ai
Rating: PG-13 for touching between young children *not sure of rating*
Characters: Ed/Al, Trisha Elric
Word Count: 3, 911
Summary: A mother's worry? Possibly.

Disclaimer: Really…if only the characters and the plot and just the utter coolness of the whole series belonged to me, I’d be a very content woman. But alas…I am pleased to have come up with this.

A/N: Weird ficcy! And if weird kiddy scenarios offend you…please don’t read this. I was just experimenting with Edo and Aru…and I just thought it would be funny to write something like this, since it can happen. You never know what youngins are up to. This was meant to be really short, but it turned out to be 11 pages on Word!
Tell me what you think!


The first time Trisha Elric had realized that her sons were growing up was when she happened to place Al in the same bath as Ed one day, on the pretense that Ed would actually supervise Al as they washed—together. As a mother, she had never thought it practical—go figure—to bathe them as one unit; but when she had caught sight of a muddy Edward dragging an equally muddy Alphonse through the front door, she came to the conclusion that yes, it would be easier to just throw them both in the tub simultaneously.

Now, one would have to question her motives for never washing them together—as it saved time and energy—in the first place. She, as a traditional loving mother, believed in modesty of sorts, as in dressing behind doors and keeping personal subjects off the radar.

Particularly personal objects.

They were only four and five, after all; such little rascals who bounced on her stomach when she wouldn’t wake up at their designated sunrise; such little cutey-pies who giggled and pretended to whisper behind their hands to each other when she tried to read her book; and such little mischief-mongrels who always insisted that she join in on their playtime, and if she refused, some type of tag would be imminent….

She had been reading that infamous book they always tried to hide from her when, suddenly, the front door burst open.

“Ma?” Ed cried, a big mouth as usual, and searching the kitchen with large golden eyes. “Ma!” He found her leaning against the counter, book already hidden behind her elbow of which she was resting her weight upon.

“Ed, what is it? Did something happen?” She tried with all her might to keep the worry at bay. They couldn’t have “toed the line” already! It had yet to be midday!

The golden haired—but no golden boy—son huffed and opened the door wider so he could reveal his “other half” to his mother. The sight proved to be something their absent father would have slapped his own thigh over.

The younger son was more or less standing beside Ed now, looking worse for wear, and with multi-colored mud coating him practically from head to foot. Well, both of them actually. A mother’s worst nightmare.

Nightmare? Trisha was the mother of two male children who thought they were invincible and could defeat the monsters at the bottom of the river! Pah…this was no nightmare. This was a quest to see how much calm she could maintain.

“—the world…? What did you boys get up to…?” she questioned, approaching them and crossing her arms. Perhaps playing with them would have been a better option compared to letting them wreak havoc in the countryside.

Al squeaked and tried to hide behind his elder brother, who tried in effect to evade the clinginess.

“Mother, blame him,” and Ed motioned a thumb backwards towards Al. “He wanted to play Monster and almos’ drowned me!” Ed blinked some dirty water out of his eyes.

“Oh, well—” But Al interrupted Trisha before she could summon some sort of wit. “Nah-uh! S’not true! I wan’ed to have fun, but Brother didn’ wanna! He’s no fair!” The poor thing was cowering but mimicking bravery all at once.

“Shuddup, I told joo I didn’ wanna!” Ed retorted, casting a look back at Al.

“Hush now,” Trisha spoke up. “There’s no one to blame for this, don’t be ridiculous, kids. It’s all in good fun…” She looked on at them, surveying their currently muddy and wet state with underlying displeasure. To tell the truth, though, she was somewhat amused. “…isn’t it?”

Ed gaped at his obviously blinded mother. “Ma! He almos’ drooowned me!” The supposed victim began pointing at random bruises on his exposed limbs, as it was summertime and their attire constituted dressing down. “Look! Here—and here! Dammit, I oughta slug him—”

“No, you will not be slugging anybody, Edward. And, what have I told you about foul language?” Trisha stated calmly, kneeling in front of Ed to peer closely at the bruises he was so apt at sharing. “You are my son, and I am raising you to be a good son, all right?”

And they should have known better than to go splashing around in the river. They must have managed to stay in the shallow end; otherwise…they probably wouldn’t have survived.

Placing a warm hand against his chilled forearm distracted Ed from his whinging. She had that affect on most people, particularly on these little shorties.

Al was pouting behind Ed now, doing a very sweet impression of a sad kitten, and Trisha smiled at him over Ed’s right shoulder. “Alphonse…I’m not blaming you, your brother’s not even blaming you. Right, Edward…?” She eyed the latter boy, almost daring him to continue with his tirade. He stared, eye-level with her, and grunted impishly. His sort of apology. Or concession.

Oh, her dear little minion…whilst Al was her little angel, no doubt about it. She wondered when she had come up with these epithets….

“’Kay…Mommy….” Al whispered, darting his hazel eyes to her from their previous spot on Ed’s backside.

Ed rolled his eyes at the ceiling when Trisha regarded her youngest son with sheer affection. She didn’t feel up to cuddling, though, as they were encased in dirt, and in a moment directed them straight to the bathroom down the hall.

“But Moooom,” Ed was protesting again as she waved at the tub, “I’m not getting in there with him. He’ll drown me again!”

It was Trisha’s turn to roll her eyes—albeit patiently—at the ceiling. “Ed, your brother’s your brother—not a ‘him’. Uh—well—he is a ‘him’, but…oh!” She sighed and motioned at the tub once more. “And he won’t drown you, he knows better.” She started to completely usher them into the bathroom as Al made a sound of protest to Ed’s accusation.

“And if he tries to drown you, of which I very much doubt….” she trailed off, turning the faucet in the bath on whilst checking to see there were no summer insects in or near the porcelain. They popped up now and then….

It appeared as if Ed had been waiting for her to finish her speech when she turned around to see both her sons blinking up at her, the mud drying all over their faces, hair, and clothing.

“And?” Ed murmured, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“And?” She had forgotten what she was saying.

He took his eyes away from Al. “And what should I do if he tries to drown me?”

“Oh…hmm…let’s see….” She pretended to think hard and then come up with the most brilliant answer. She poked Ed in the chest. “Why not drown him back? You know, this for that?” This had been right before they discovered what their father had practiced—the basis of alchemy: the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Yet, she still only understood a few of the things he had talked about on occasion. She anticipated the time when they would come upon the world of alchemy and know its full potential. No, she secretly abhorred the day when they would…

They didn’t know what she buried her nose in, anyways.

Ed seemed to think it was a brilliant answer. His eyes actually glowed for a second as they glared back at Al. The youngest just glared with more fervor.

Trisha laughed; her boys were too much sometimes. “No, silly! Because then I would be left all alone in this house! And then whatever shall I do!?”

They reverted to blinking at her again, blankly this time, and she giggled at their mundane innocence. “You know, you should really get along. It would make your mother quite the happy doll. What’ya say, boys?”

“Mommy, I want to make you happy, I swear I do!” Al nodded zealously, tugging on his mother’s apron. Well, muddy prints on the apron was meant to be, at least.

Ed elbowed his brother, but when Al gasped in more of start than pain, he was less inclined to apologize for his mother’s sake.

She shook her head in dismay. “Bath-time, and no drowning, please….” Within a total of five minutes, she managed to strip them—

“Ma! I can undress myself!” coming from Edward.

“Mommy, I’m four! I’m like Brother!” coming from Alphonse.

“Nah-uh, yer just a twerp!”

“Uh-huh! I can beat you up better!”



She sighed and pulled the last article of clothing from Alphonse, which happened to be his underwear. Ever since they had been born, she, as a mother would, knew almost every spot on their bodies…and she knew that would be changing sometime soon, as they were growing up, and thus, her personal care for them would be extricated, reducing her to a near cut-off state in due time.

Not that she was complaining. But they were.

“There.” She piled their clothes by the toilet. She would wash them later when she knew they—the boys—were far from water. To take chances in this household was to sign a death warrant.

Al was following Ed into the lukewarm water, just filled to the brim. Ed scooted as far as he could away from the annoying pest, who was relentlessly scrunching his tiny nose at the mean older brother.

The water was already tinged in brown when Trisha went to turn the faucet off. She stood up, arms akimbo, and ordered, “Edward, watch your brother. Alphonse, be a sweetie, all right?”

The children peeked at one another, Ed with narrow eyes and Al with a blush.

Somehow, the otherwise trivial scene got to Trisha, and she excused herself with the hopes of reading her book by the closed door. She would give them the benefit of the doubt that she trusted them to take a bath together, and that they wouldn’t drown each other in the process.

In the meantime, Ed was hopelessly shielding himself in the water, having done so right after their mother had turned and left. He could mask himself with an ornery demeanor in front of his mother, but when she was out of sight, he let it drop and thus begin his so-called “soft brotherliness”.

“Hey, Al.”

“Hmm?” The addressed one swiveled towards Ed, eyes round and cheeks full of baby fat.

“Stop looking.” Ed’s nose crimsoned and he made to cover his nether regions more productively. He flinched and could have sworn there was a bruise somewhere…

“Wha’? I’m not,” Al pouted.

“Uh—yeah….” Ed gave off an air of “Winry-ishness”, the girl who liked to clobber Ed one too many times and treat Al like he was one of her parents’ patients. Funnily enough, Ed didn’t find it amusing. And Al talked about him being unfair… Wonder if Winry would see Al for what he truly was…which was what, though?

“Nah…you’re being a girl.”

Ed reddened more so and thought about actually disobeying his mother, slugging his brother, and drowning him afterwards. “And you’re being a—” he cut himself off to finger his chin, the other hand still cupping his groin under the water.

Al waited, filling the silence with little waves he was busy making with his puny hands. Ed had the feeling sound effects would proceed. “You thinking, Brother?”

Ed rolled his eyes and frowned at Al. “Of course I’m thinkin’! Geez, I’m thinking up a good comeback t’ it…”

“Hey, did you just call me a twit?” Al asked suspiciously, in that voice that would make older women re-think fawning over him, narrowing his hazel eyes to slits and threatening to send a huge wave Ed’s way. Ed stared dead on into Al’s face.





“Well what?”

Al sighed like the child he was and reached out to nudge Ed’s occupied left arm—the arm hiding the precious package.

“I’m no twit. I have t’e same thing you do!”


Al blinked at Ed. Ed blinked back. He briefly wondered what Al could be goading him into.

“Brother, let me see,” Al demanded, nudging the arm forcibly.

Ed scoffed and shook his head, his dirty bangs flinging against his eyes. “Pfft, I don’ think so!”

“Why not? I’m t’e same!”

“Talk prop’ly, Al, you sound like a kid,” Ed diverted, looking towards the closed door and then to the now placidness of the water.

“I am a kid! Aaaand, yer callin’ yerself a twit, too, since we’re the same.” Al was all up for a little wet scuffle inside the bathtub, as was apparent. Maybe their mother would allow one harmless—yeah right—fight to tide them over…?

The lone lamp hanging from the ceiling was efficient in lighting even the corners of the room, including the depths of the tub…. It was too bad there were no soap bubbles to blanket Ed’s…pinking modesty.

Naturally, he had been nude in front of his younger brother before. All kids were like this at some point in their lives. It was just the fact they were spending time like this that made all the difference. So, for the hundredth time, bathing was a big deal, but being seen from a different perspective—conscientious at that.

For being so arrogant, Ed was far from being so over his own anatomy, and he did not fancy exposing his body to anyone, even to his own mother, who was half the reason for his existence. Yet to say he came from her was unnerving enough, so he decided to hunker down in the tub, both hands cupping his groin, whilst seething about the nuisance sharing his bath water.

Al understood Ed’s denial, giving a small indication that he had an idle mind by reaching for the bar of soap in the bowl, almost sloth-like. He commenced with said soap, sliding it over his invisible arm hairs, humming, tickling himself with the slow motions. Mother would have aww’d. Ed found himself watching without much consideration.

“Brother….” Al said seriously.

He didn’t answer but hmm’d in return, thinking blandly.

“Are you scared?”

Ed spluttered to the strange question. “Hell nah!”

Al shook the soap at Ed’s hands, which were under the water. “Mom said t’ stop doing that…and yeah, you are.”

“Am not, stewforbrains...”

“Yes, you...”


“Yes, Brother? Are ya goin’ to say yer a twit, too? Oh-oh, I rhymed…!” Al digressed rather quickly, becoming tickled by his own amusement.

Ed spluttered some more like the fish in the river that they never managed to step on and his eyes looked horrified. “You kidding me, Al?”

“No,” he said, chuckling at Ed’s horror.

“What makes ya think I wanna show you anything?”



“Cuz you haff t’ prove yer like me, and I’m like you.”

Really, Al’s logic was as dense as water….but perhaps just as clear, too.

“Erm…” Ed floundered, seeking something truly amazing to say in order to spite his curiosity-ridden brother, but alas, he sought in vain.

His ego was bigger than his body, after all. Hell, he was going to prove Al was nothing like him, then, so he wouldn’t have to suffer for the rest of the day with Al’s constant bugging. He could just foresee tonight, with Al saying from his bedside, Just show me, Brother, or yer a wimp!

Wow, what a nice night that would be….

“Come on, Brother…I’ll show you mine. See!?” And Al sat up to kneel in the tub, poking at his soft spots, the pink flesh surrounding his…well, Ed didn’t want to think it, even though he was his brother, even though he was also a male.

“Oh come off it, Al! Don’t do that!”

Al looked suddenly offended and crouched low in the water, hunching his round shoulders inward, mimicking a baby monkey that had just been prostrated. His eyes, like Mom’s, settled on the white of the porcelain, his fists balling around his knees.

Ed’s face was burning, and he knew he wasn’t showing the tolerance that an older sibling should strive for when dealing with clingy mutants like Alphonse.

“You’re such a baby, Al…geez. Look, see?”

And he stood up for Al’s benefit, throwing a sharp glance at the door again and then back at nothing in particular. He was rather embarrassed….

Al had an appraising expression that suggested like and dislike combined, if that were possible. Ed couldn’t stop himself from watching Al watch him. It was quite fascinating really, on both sides, and if Al had been a girl with curves, like that pretty chubby one less than a mile away, and if Ed had been older, then maybe the odd blond boy would have developed something more than fascination.

The air in the bathroom tasted like…hot saliva.

“See…Al?” Edward piped quietly, not willing nor ready to budge an inch in his upright position on his side of the quickly-getting-smaller tub.

“Hmm-hmm…” dragged Alphonse, and he was looking at Ed, at his not-yet-haunted eyes, and the message the younger transmitted to the elder was highly contagious, and also highly knowing.

Ed, being Mommy’s golden colored yet sour flavored smart-ass, couldn’t respond with anything other than one pathetic syllable. Any other moment and he would have tackled Al and “taught” him how to be the nice little brother. But now… “Al…?” Ed couldn’t think of any sarcastic remark to distract Al from Ed’s tanned body.

Al blinked, breaking the boy’s concentration.

“Wow, Brother,” Al’s saccharine voice invaded his buzzing ears, “yer such a hyp’crit.”

“It’s hyp-o-crite, you dope! And—”

“So? We are t’e same!”

And Al stood up as well without any hesitance, displaying his baby jewels gleefully like some attention-starved innocent who just loved to smile till the end of days, and goggling at poor Edward, an action that rubbed the latter in some…disturbing way. Al pointed unabashedly to his limp self, and Ed could see the sluices of dirty water running off of the short thighs. The oddly shaded blonde felt the urge to run for cover, but thought otherwise, and presumed to sneak a peek at Al’s body. He noticed the younger one was already pruning, despite not being in the bath long, and that he was actually, in truth, by all that was unfair to children in all of Amestris, just like him.

One thing was for sure, though: Al pee’d his bed often enough. Ed didn’t. The end. That was a comfort, at least.

Ed tried to diffuse the rising nervous giggle in his throat. Al had been right: Ed was like Al—well, with respect to their years, vice versa. It didn’t negate the fact Al was younger than Ed, yet seemingly growing right alongside him. He felt somehow…cheated, and it didn’t stop there with just his dignity.

He felt cheated for still remaining young with Al. Edward Elric—thank all that was Risembool he had his mother’s name—didn’t belong young.

It wasn’t as if Edward doubted that Al was an alien of some kind—because Al was an alien—as he had always thought, and in respect looked like an alien. It was because he never thought Al could match up to him, even being a year younger.

“Hey, ya’kay?” Al asked concernedly, reaching out to pet Ed’s right shoulder. Al had always been a lefty… “Teehee, ya look funny…” Al was busy eyeing Ed with such ambiguous satisfaction, that some…creeping foreign sensation distilled over Ed’s chest. It was in his air supply. It was his air supply.

He didn’t now what to do, so he resorted to what he knew best.

Facing danger.

Pfft. Like he had a choice.

Al blinked. “Didja know? When you touch yer private part…it-it feels good?”

The feeling in Ed’s chest imploded.

“Eh!?” Yep, definitely imploding. Their mother had never mentioned that…or, anything like that before. Then again, when would a mother confide in her children about hedonistic traits?

“Yep.” Al was clearly pleased with giving Ed some valuable yet sorely obvious information that his brother was evidently a stranger of. Al, unfortunately, was right again. Ed never tried to feel good. The only times he felt this way was when he played with Al or was humored by their mother…

Somehow bringing their mother into it felt so twisted that at that moment he deduced he’d rather no know how babies were made.

Ed finally dropped back into the dirty lukewarm water, resting his chin against his drawn-up knees. He could no longer stare at Al, at that curious lil’ brat. Ed just wanted to bury his face in Mother’s bosom to black out the rest of Al’s face.

Just as Ed was imagining what it would be like to study anatomy—or something random like art, or better yet, the art of anatomy, and just damn it all, the bestial curiosity in his own mind wanted to study Al as if he were some specimen meant to be subjected to critical stares—he could hear Al shifting his shoulders because one popped, and the younger boy was most likely demonstrating, for all Ed knew.

So he looked.

And his eyes nearly burst from their sockets at the picture of self-pleasure. Al was touching himself now, as if discovering a lost peninsula (excusing the pun) and he—Al—had his thin brown eyebrows raised in soft arches and round orbs hazy, with his shoulders languid and flesh head to foot blotchy from mud and water and oily soap. Ed didn’t understand what Al was trying to do, but he had a hunch it was something exciting.

“See, Eddie, i’s good…”

Ed didn’t even bother to slug his insufferable sibling for the nick-name like he usually would have. This wasn’t usual, after all. It wasn’t worth the trouble, anyhow, as his breath had hitched. Both of theirs.

A curved motion that Al made over his testicles with his palm inspired Ed so that he selfishly moved in to experimentally poke Al’s warm—

“Ah!” Al giggled, mouth open and cheeks flushed, all shiny. “Dun do that! It tickles, silly!”

It tickles…it tickles…

Ed didn’t think about this being wrong, or weird, or…

He wanted to make Al laugh, because whenever he heard it, he wanted to laugh as well. It made him laugh. Al was too curious and too cute and too persistent for his own good.

“You children having fun in there?” the boys heard their mother say in the distance, and they hardly paid any heed to her as Ed was too engrossed in making Al laugh and Al was…Al was laughing quietly to himself, holding his baby midriff whilst watching Ed experiment, fondling his nether regions, watching as Ed’s blunt digits barely touched and batted at foreign territory.

Ed was about to ask on a jolly whim whether they should show Win-Win this “game” or not, when the bathroom door opened abruptly to frame their mother, who was looking as if she had reached a certain point in the book of which she had debated on letting go in order to check on the growing rug-rats. Her mouth curved downward, paralyzed features the origin of Al’s. Maybe she was wishing she had kept on reading after all…

“Heavens! Edward, quit that—!”

The boys never took a bath together ever again, but it did not stop them from telling Winry what boys could do. She was also too curious for her own good.

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