More than once already, Edward had regretted turning down the offer of a ride home, despite the fact that the little house he shared with Alphonse was nowhere near where Havoc lived.
Among them he walks, the man whose name only God remembers.
Humans are so greedy, the Truth had told him in his dreams; and for all his airs and graces, he is no exception.
The only other tradition that was better than eggnog to Al, was that of mistletoe.
"For the last time, we are not having this conversation!"
What was with it with these horny older men? Were they stupid or just massively delusional?
He would have been crying for a long time, but the tears seem to have frozen in this damn cold too.
"When I walked in on you in the bath, Edward, I wasn't expecting Al to be there too."
Al crouches down on a dune looking down on the camp and draws an array in the sand, thinking of Gunnar with a dull pang of grief.
Al sits in a doorway puzzling absently over the problem of what array to draw to bandage his arm before he bleeds to death.
Contrary to popular opinion, Roy Mustang was quite skilled at dealing with emotions.
Dear Ed: I miss you more than you can ever know.
Something about the place seems to be sucking the life out of him; the more time he spends indoors, the more he seems to wilt.
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.
"Post break-up beer, all the way from Xing," Al grinned merrily. "Taken right off a cart heading for the royal court. See the lengths I go to to cheer you up?"
God, he's gorgeous, even cut up. Especially cut up.
There are things he cannot allow Greed to do.
It shouldn't have been a surprise that he would run across on Jean Havoc, sitting just underneath a "No Smoking" sign outside in the afternoon sun.
As it got later, Al could hear the night in the strange world deepen. Nights of terror, here, a country full of dead people.
He was a version of his brother if he'd grown up, but fainter, as though he'd been diluted in the bright light of the Gate.
I know what I feel, I know what I think, and I don't need to chickenscratch the shit down and have the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
Ed growled under his breath, color high in his cheeks, and pulled away.
Dante took the seat next to the bed, and handed a mug of tea to Trisha.
Sometimes Al thinks that somewhere back in the Armstrong family tree lurks an alchemical accident in a sequin factory.
The idiot prince still couldn't be bothered to figure out the different notes and coins, probably because he'd never actually paid for anything in his life.
He inhaled deeply, felt the darkness ripple over his skin, and the room seemed to flex and expand around him.
"Brother," Alphonse said, voice soft with horror, "I think that Winry's going to kill you."
"Al," Ed said seriously and leaned forward to look up into his brother's glowing eyes, "if he had mind control powers, you would tell me, right?"
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
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.
No alchemical reaction could sustain fire without fuel forever.
Envy could rip him and all the worlds in two.
He was just moving to light the stove, casting about for a match to begin the flames that would cook their dinner, when the voice drifted in from the other room.
Gone was the helpless, kicked-puppy look from those purple eyes.
While Al couldn't say he approved, he was certain the Colonel wasn't stupid enough to try anything with Ed on a first date.
Thank you General Mustang. At least that creep was good for something. Winry still wasn't convinced he was good for Ed.
Sometimes he outright disappeared for hours, leaving Al feeling panicked.
He doesn't love Scar. The idea is ridiculous, but they are all they have left, each other's bodies rocks against the tide of strangeness, unfamiliarity.
"Hey, Ed, you're awfully cheery this morning."
The reminder that Roy always managed to know what Edward was doing barely got a half-hearted glare.
If you want to find Edward Elric in Central City, you have to be a National Alchemist.
Living dangerously had its perks.
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?
Roy smiled slowly as Edward approached his desk, his usual careless pose turned into something... challenging.
He would ask questions, even though Al knew he didn't particularly care, simply because he liked seeing Alphonse so animated about something.
Some of the stuff he was asked to investigate was truly stupid shit. A bakery, for instance.