Title: Styled
Author: Jordanna Morgan (librarie@jordanna.net)
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: G.
Characters: Edward and Alphonse, with the indirect presence of Elicia.
Setting: General.
Summary: Edward makes the grave mistake of falling asleep at a tea party.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
Notes: Pure fluff. A Fandom Stocking gift for Evil Little Dog, and a fill for the prompt of sugar and spice at Genprompt Bingo. (It also just happens to fill the prompt of Edward, Elicia, and toys/tea, from a very old alphabet fic meme I once had going.)

 

Styled

 

When Edward Elric first fuzzily came to, all he could see around him was pink.

It wasn’t the first time Ed had awakened to wonder where he was and what he’d been doing last night. However, unlike most people who found themselves in this situation, the reason was not alcohol but assorted villainous types laying blunt objects across his skull. Given the fact that his head wasn’t hurting, and he didn’t appear to be tied up, he felt it safe to assume that was not the root cause in this case.

He rubbed his eyes with his flesh hand, blinked several times, and the pinkness slowly came into focus as curtains and slip covers and dainty ruffled pillows.

Oh… right. Elicia Hughes’ playroom.

Ed remembered now. He remembered getting into Central fairly late the previous evening, after a hard mission for Colonel Mustang that left him without a moment’s sleep the night before that. Once he filed his report, Major Hughes whisked Ed and Alphonse away to his house, insisting that they spend the night in a decent bed instead of a bunk in the barracks.

Upon arrival, they were met with excited squeals by little Elicia. She dragged them off at once to play with her—and her menagerie of enormous stuffed animals—while Gracia was kindly preparing a late dinner for Ed. …Which was how he found himself sitting in a too-tiny chair at a doily-covered table, sipping tea and carrying on an awkwardly one-sided conversation with Mr. Muffin and Miss Bunny. (Who was in fact a stuffed cat, oddly enough.)

And he was so tired, and the warm tea was so soothing… and he must have completely fallen asleep.

Wincing internally, Ed turned his head, to see the gleam of an ever-present suit of armor in the morning light. Alphonse was settled heavily into the depths of a pink polka-dotted bean bag cushion, reading a book of fairy tales that must have come from the shelf in the corner.

“Good morning, Brother,” Al said cheerfully.

The elder sibling’s response was an incoherent noise. He rubbed his jaw, swallowed dryly, and finally managed to mutter: “So who spiked my tea? I’m guessing Lady Sparkles, ’cause I know she was looking at me funny.”

Al laughed brightly. “No. You were just that tired. Did you rest well?”

“I don’t remember, so I must have.” Ed scowled. “You could at least have gotten me up for dinner, after Gracia went to all the trouble of making it. I’m starving.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. Gracia’s making breakfast now, though.”

“Uh-huh…”

Ed gingerly hoisted himself out of the little chair he had fallen asleep in, reaching up to run his flesh hand through his hair… but he froze when his fingers did not find what he expected. His mouth twisted into a frown, and he explored further, with a growing sense of horror.

Someone had undone his braid—and in its place, a large number of much smaller, finer braids were sprouting from his head. Grasping a few of them, he tugged the ends forward to see that they were tied with uneven little bows of pink ribbon, while white daisies were randomly fastened all over the braids with tiny, animal-shaped barrettes.

What is this?” he choked in mortified fury, as his fingers scrambled to start pulling off the slightly wilted flowers.

Al chuckled and raised his hands innocently. “It wasn’t me! You know Elicia’s always been kind of fascinated by your hair.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Aww, Ed, she was having so much fun! Besides, she thought she was doing something nice for you, so I couldn’t hurt her feelings. And you were sleeping so deeply that she wasn’t even bothering you, so—”

Al.” Ed’s voice dropped. He paused in the act of unraveling one of the blond dreadlocks, to massage his forehead and stare balefully at his little brother between his fingers. “Just tell me one thing. Tell me Hughes and his camera didn’t get a look at me like this.”

“Of course not, Brother. I made sure he didn’t come in here and see you.”

Ed breathed a faint sigh of relief.

“…But I did borrow his camera myself,” Al concluded with wicked glee—as he held up a roll of film between a leather thumb and forefinger.

Al! You give me that!


© 2015 Jordanna Morgan