Growing Up
[drabble challenge for Zinjadu2]
Temporary transfer back to East City was beginning to sound like a Very Good Idea to Ed.
While the library left a lot to be desired, and the area was generally slower at picking up new ideas or theories, it was, at least, very, very far away from one Colonel Maes Hughes and the man's incessant need to meddle.
Also, he would be entirely removed from the source his current problem, at least until she fixated on somene else.
Alicia Hughes had grown into a very pretty young woman--nearly the perfect image of her mother, despite her father boasting about resemblances. She was smart enough to sometimes follow the debates Ed and Al had, and smart enough to know when to withdraw.
Overall, Ed rather liked her; at times, she reminded him strongly of Winry. It was like having a little sister, which in the end wasn't really too different from having a little brother. It helped that she actually was shorter than him.
The only problem was that she, apparently, had picked up on something else entirely.
For their shared birthday, she'd given him something wrapped in a revolting shade of pink, festooned with sparkling ribbons. He'd almost begged off, but she'd looked so hopeful he'd caved.
The sweater wasn't much better. However, Graica assured him it was hand-knitted and Alicia's first finished attempt, and he'd forced a grin and promised he would take it with him when he traveled, to wear when it got cold.
How that ended with him sitting in the brightly-lit kitchen of the Hughes household, with the Colonel looming dangerously over him, Ed still wasn't sure.
"So," Hughes said, a manic glint in his eyes. "Wasn't Alicia pretty in her new party dress?"
Ed considered running before answering. He knew just how fast Hughes could be with his knives, and nixed the thought before execution. "Er."
"I thought so, too," Hughes said. He moved just so, and the reflection of light off his glasses hid his eyes. "She's growing up to be such a beautiful lady, isn't she? The older she gets, the more of a heartbreaker she'll be."
As long as you don't break the heads before she gets to the hearts, Ed thought, and bit his tongue. Instead, he went with the safer option and nodded.
"Good, good," Hughes said. "As long as that's clear." He leaned forward, and Ed's eyes flickered briefly down to the man's hands, which were thankfully still in full sight. "Now, see, my daughter is quite fond of you, Ed."
"Um." Ed squirmed in his chair a bit. "I kinda guessed."
"Very fond, see," Hughes continued. "She worked very hard on that sweater. In fact, all she could talk about for months was Ed this, and Ed that, and oh, did you think Ed would like this--" He moved, and Ed suppressed a flinch at the last second.
"Is, uh, that so?" Ed began to scoot to the edge of his chair, body tensed to flee. When one of Hughes' hands slammed down on the table right beside him, he jumped. The man loomed over him, in full military form, with a grin that had cowed sterner men than one Edward Elric.
"What I need," said Hughes, completely reasonable, "is to know what your intentions towards my daughter are. Because, you see, if you're going to accept her affections, there are certain rules--"
Edward Elric did not believe in demons or angels; he had seen too much of regular humanity to truly admit to it. But he never argued, later, that his life was probably saved by the appearance of one Gracia Hughes, who walked into the kitchen at that moment, then stopped to eye them with tolerant amusement.
"Maes," she said, "for Heaven's sake, let the poor boy go. You've terrorized him enough."
He turned to her, but without the scary eyes; all he did was pout. "But, Gracia, love," he said (and it wasn't quite a whine, but still), "Alicia--"
"Would be quite upset, if she knew how mean her daddy was being to her Edward-brother, now, wouldn't she?" Gracia folded her arms and tapped one foot expectantly. Hughes wilted like an underwatered flower.
"Yes, dear," he said, morose. "Go on, Ed. I'm sure your brother's waiting."
Uncertainly, he looked at Gracia. She smiled, nodded, and mouthed, "Go," at him.
Without looking back, he bolted. He almost forgot the sweater, and snagged it at the last moment; better to take it with him, then risk the loss of his last greatest ally in the household.
That transfer, he thought, was definitely the best idea he'd had all day.
--end--