lykomancer | Half-hour drabble

Title: Volatile
Pairing: Kimbley/Ed
Words: 800
Rating: PG-13(?)
Timeline: Takes place within the events of episode 31. (I think it's 31. Pretty sure.)
Dedication: For the sweet and charming

chauni, who seemed intrigued by this pairing.
Notes: There's an entire comm for Kimbley/Al, but yet I have never once seen a Kim/Ed fic. I'm amused by the idea of them together myself, and if I ever hated myself enough to write a blatant AU, this would happen somewhere in it, if for no other reason than the sheer funsplodyfun factor.

The kid was volatile, Kimbley'd give him that much. He hadn't seen quite so much explosiveness embodied in one person-- outside of himself, of course-- since some of the more exciting days of the Ishbaal War, and now, like then, it was thrilling, stimulating-- the golden flame sparking in the kid's eyes as he charged forward was a challenge, and it quickened his heartbeart, made him lift his pale yellow gaze to the burning one focused so intently on him and simply smile.

He hadn't gotten a chance to play-- really play-- in so long...

He'd have to count on that stupid bastard lizard to keep the armored one entertained for a few minutes, but that was fine, just fine... How long could it really take to knock this smart-mouthed, arrogant kid back a step or two and paint the walls with his brains?

Kimbley dodged Ed's first swing, not minding the few slips of dark hair that suddenly slid free from their constraining ponytail, released from their captivity by the cutting edge of the blond's transmuted automail, and he shoulder-rolled under and away from Ed, touching his array-scarred hands together and then to the floor as soon as he dug his toes in and halted his tumbling momentum. A wild grin slashed across his face, and his eyes gleamed brightly even through the smoke and dust the subsequent explosion threw into the air.

Somewhere, distantly, like over a bad phone connection, he could hear yelling and the crash of something heavy and metallic, but that wasn't important. He wasn't distracted by little things, and the only thing that mattered right now was getting his hands on that little wise-ass alchemist brat who'd thought he could take him on.

The blond kid tumbled back, unscathed save for a single thin slash across one cheek where a fine piece of stone shrapnel as buzzed by him and coughing, but he was startled and caught of balance for a moment, and the edges of his clothing were smoking. He'd been close... So damned close... That was a shame, but it was easy enough to rectify.

Almost too easy. Hell, he could afford to toy with his prey, even. Draw it out and make it linger...

The muscles in his legs tightened and flexed, and Kimbley pounced forward at Ed, still grinning. One hand tangled in the front of his shirt and the other grappled with the automail limb above the blade, twisting it around the kid's back, and then he kneed him in the small of his spine, laughing as they both went down. Ed hit the floor hard with Kimbley's extra weight behind him and the breath flew out of his lungs.

"Brother!" Oh, that childishly wavering cry was so far away that it barely penetrated Kimbley's mind, and when it finally did scrape over the surface of his consciousness he chuckled softly. "Brother" was it, then? "Brother" was about to become a bloody smear on the floor. In a moment. In another moment. When Kimbley felt like it, and not a second before... There was no reason to rush now.

The Crimson Alchemist licked his lips and twisted the automail a little higher, watching the rage and fear war on the field of the boy's face. Oh, he knew how much trouble he was in, didn't he? That made this so much sweeter-- the fear twisting the overly-pretty features...and the kid was pretty. Not quite as fine-featured as that whiney bastard Mustang, but still almost femininely attractive, with his large hazel eyes framed with thick gold, the spill of silky blond hair over his shoulder. A little too thickly-muscled for such a girlie face, Kimbley thought, tightening his thighs around the struggling boy's waist, but still so small and as well-built and proportioned as to make many a-woman jealous.

Ed sucked in a hard breath, and Kimbley felt him resettle under him, ribs straining to take in rapid gulps of air despite the pressure put on them from above. His free hand scrabbled at the dusty floor uselessly, crushed under their combined weight at an awkward angle. He could feel the kid's heartbeat thunder through him, could feel the vibration of the curses that he growled; Kimbley's hearing wasn't the best and hadn't been since the war-- his own fault, really, and he knew it-- but he didn't need to be able to hear so long a he could feel it like this, the sound waves rushing up through his taut muscles and trembling like a trapped nest of wasps in his lower belly, driving him a little closer to that internal edge where everything was painted with blood.

In a moment. Just another moment.

He didn't see the scrawled array in the dust until the little brat activated it.