Sickbed Hazards

"Al, quit it." Ed leaned out the kitchen doorway and scowled at his brother.

"Jush a shec..." Al pulled the thermometer out of his mouth and read it for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Has it changed?"

"It keeps going up and down by tenths."

"Do you still have a fever?"

"Well, yes..."

"Then knock it off. You're not changing anything, and if you're not careful, you'll like, stick it down your throat and get sick."

Al flopped back onto the couch pillows with a huff.

"I'm just being cautious."

"Cautious of what? You don't need to be cautious, you—dammit!"

Ed disappeared back into the kitchen, and Al pulled the blanket up to his chin once more, trying not to imagine what sort of culinary disaster was taking place behind him. Initially, the fever had been rather novel, an exciting study in being too hot and too cold simultaneously, but the thrill had quickly worn off.

Actually the only thing that was still enjoyable about it was the way Ed doted on him. If there was something Al still deeply enjoyed about his illness, it was seeing Ed play a sort of housewife. Admittedly a housewife with a foul mouth and violent tendencies, but the apron made it all worthwhile.


Al was startled out of his reverie by Ed thrusting a tray at him.

", what is..."

"Soup, the fucking stove messed it up."

Al took the tray, trying not to ask out loud what he was thinking: how the hell had Ed managed to char a liquid? Ed watched his expression and cursed, wringing his hands in the silly apron and looking away.

"You don't have to eat it, okay? I'm sorry, I tried. I'm not good at this shit."

"Brother," the younger Elric carefully set the tray on the coffee table. "Come here."

Ed took a tiny step closer and Al reached out to grab his hand and pull him to his side. Once there, he shifted and reached up, pulling Ed into a hug.

"It's enough that you want to take care of me, Brother. Thank you."

"Nn." Ed blushed. "I just...want you to get better soon, that's all."

"I know. And it means a lot to me."

His brother couldn't help a small laugh at that, and dropped a kiss into Al's hair.

"You're so sappy all the time. Now eat your goddamn soup."

"Er..I'd like to, brother," Al pulled back, flushed but smiling, "But I think that might make me sicker."

Al's illness did not prevent him from being soundly beaten with a pillow for the next few minutes.