He felt ten years old and small, pressed against a door that wouldn't open for a very long time.
Screaming or crying would have been appropriate. Edward Elric didn't care about propriety. He was laughing.
The house rumbled gently, as a cat purrs, and Alphonse tied off the braid, pressing his hands to Edward's scalp one more time before dropping them to his side.
Ed growled under his breath, color high in his cheeks, and pulled away.
For a few minutes they sat in silence, looking out over the sun-dazzled water. There didn't seem to be much to say.
It really irritated him that he did have ten years of experience and Roy could look at him and drop his voice a little and Ed squirmed.
Ed's heart began pounding in anticipation of the rush he'd feel when the process was over.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
There were good things about having Mustang around, least of which was when one forgot their matches.
"Can I trust you," Ed's dewy eyes were huge and he looked somehow younger than he'd ever looked before.
He did not expect an answer even though it was true that Wrath was more likely to speak to him than anyone else, even Winry.
He reminds Alfons of himself, in a way, back after he'd been first diagnosed with his illness; when he used to get up and stare at his face in the washbasin mirror every day and think, I am too young for this.
Dante took the seat next to the bed, and handed a mug of tea to Trisha.
Alphonse settled for a barely audible sigh and hoped that his brother knew what he was doing.
At fifteen he had been intimidating; at thirty, he could be terrifying.
"Don't look so downcast!" orders Mustang, grinning maniacally. "Our honour is at stake! Don't let me down! Sometimes you just have to take one for the team!"
rated:K-L | M+F S+S | Mangaverse | pre-series | SP: no plot spoilers but stars characters we meet up t | Briggs Bears | Buccaneer | Miles | Olivia Mira Armstrong | Roy Mustang | 354th FG HQ | Rebecca Catalina
As it got later, Al could hear the night in the strange world deepen. Nights of terror, here, a country full of dead people.
Schezcka pushed her glasses up, using the glass reflection to hide her eyes.
But he's traveled like this before, and the hope that it won't end in failure a second time is, at this moment, enough.
Ed tosses four sausages at once into his mouth and swallows almost without chewing, shooting Al a smug, triumphant grin.
His desire for everything and everyone meant subversively that anything the alchemist blew to high hell was his: possession by association.
"Hey, Ed, you're awfully cheery this morning."
It was so, so much easier just to go hungry than to try their hands at something she'd done so well.
They smuggled Al out of Central and back to Rizembul, where they rented a small house with room for Ed's books and Al's wings.
Sometimes he outright disappeared for hours, leaving Al feeling panicked.
"Brother," Alphonse said, voice soft with horror, "I think that Winry's going to kill you."
Humans are so greedy, the Truth had told him in his dreams; and for all his airs and graces, he is no exception.
"You aren't Envy, are you? Because if you are, I'll kick your ass and find out what you've done with my brother."
He was coming to read Alfons pretty well now too, and from what Al did understand he could give as good as he got.
If you want to find Edward Elric in Central City, you have to be a National Alchemist.
There was really too much good happening today to allow room for imperfection, in his humble opinion.
"Normal punishments don't work on my brother. We'd better come up with something else."
It was honestly not a kiss.
Roy smiled slowly as Edward approached his desk, his usual careless pose turned into something... challenging.
How do you find someone who barely existed in this world now that they're gone?
We were the naive kings of all we surveyed, lingering on the hilltop as we stared at our kingdom of ash, of ruins, of dust.
"He's a smug arrogant prick and Jean's a lazy bastard with a mouth like an ashtray."
"It's different when it's Mom," Ed said with a scowl, but he looked at Al's face, and he softened a little.
Two boys, two faces, two fates, alive and dead at the same time, at different times, nothing in common, everything in common, one thing in common: him.
She had hoped that the older woman would forget, so she didn't have to reveal that childishness to such a strong woman.
Are those little flamels on his pajamas? Where the hell does he shop, Alchemist Cliches 'R Us?
Usually when he wanted something he just took the steps he knew were necessary to getting it.
All it took was a push of his hand and the twist of a small brass key to put it out of sight.
Mustang fell into a kind of trance whenever he killed with his flames -- snapping his fingers continually, sometimes so fast that both his hands blurred.