What could you give a soul trapped in a suit of armour as a present?
Ed did precisely that, yanking down his shirt and attempting to close his jacket around what was a quite fine, if a bit incongruent, pair of breasts.
But suddenly, when Al had his body back, it was like picking up an old book and learning something new.
Archer smiled. "You are no longer the darling of the Military, Mustang. I am."
"You know it's a good thing I heal almost immediately, because otherwise I'd be so sore, I'd never get anywhere in the story."
You had to hand it to Roy, he certainly knew how to keep his cool.
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."
There was a lot to be said for experimentation, Ed thought later, when Al was curled up in his arms as Winry fussed in the bathroom.
...Ed looks bored, but Alfons knows that it's an act, that Ed loves learning and these impromptu history lessons are favourites of his.
He could imagine the words Fix typed as coming from his brother, and it afforded him a little bit of indulgence in his horrible, sinful, uncontrollable urges.
I noticed, Ed told him with as much edge as he could muster.
The human body (or rather, the nearly-human homunculus body) is really an incredible thing.
His ruse works; Ed dismisses him - with a harsh, impatient rejoinder that he isn't finished yet - and devotes his attention to his brother.
People paid a lot of money to see things like this, she imagined.
There was no question that the very act of living in this world was to be in exile.
It isn't often that our darkest fantasies get fulfilled.
He had to force himself to remember that he hadn't even known what Alphonse had been like in the flesh, but he was fairly certain that he hadn't been a polished and polite doppelganger of his older brother.
Ed had his suspicions about any offer Roy Mustang made that sounded like what he wanted. There had to be a catch.
The first thing he was aware of when the aftershocks faded was an automail hand on his throat.
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
Sometimes Roy would just hold him for an hour or more, late at night, blind comfort.
"Come on," he snorted. "As if I could say no to Al AND Winly looking at me like that."
But still they see, from the languid, liquid (inhuman) grace of her walk, the sway of her movements, the tattoos on her skin that she is something not quite human.
This is what lovers do, thought Ed. They sacrifice for the other's pleasure.
"All this will do is give your soul access to the feelings that should be in your body right now, just like a normal teenage boy."
One never grew entirely accustomed to having nightmares, Ed had found.
The Fuhrer always used that word. Ripe. Like fruit to be devoured .
The blow cracked Ed's cheekbone, an audible noise in the quiet room, and he felt and tasted the blood that filled his mouth.
"It was a while ago," he offered nervously. "Before your time. He's, uh, well, he was a persistent bastard, and... You're not mad, are you?"
If it had been Mustang in charge, and not Archer, Ed would be down there right now, freeing Al. Mustang understood.
"I've never met a pair of virgins more ready to jump off the sexual deep end, and you are hung up on a little social rule?"
But he kept going back. She knew, and confronted him at one time.
They were sharing a bed by necessity that winter, piling all the quilts onto one bed and hiding under them while the little radiator struggled to warm the small room.
"He misses me," came the quiet whisper, a hope that maybe this madness would end, that maybe, maybe, he could be released, that he could go home.
Greed watched his every move like a hawk, mimicking his mannerisms.
But Mustang would hold onto his control easily, manipulating the boy to lose more and more of his.
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
Alchemy, the science of turning lead into gold, was never about actual, physical transmutation.
His friend is blushing, ashamed to be seen in such a condition - and this is not new, either, this is not new at all.
"You can't do that! This is a shounen series!" he hissed.
There were three ways to identify the Fullmetal Alchemist, wherever he went.
"I will teach you patience even it if kills me," Alfons gritted out. "Let me do this my way, you can give up control just for one act."
They say that a wizard lives in the log cabin, on the other side of the dark woods and the silver river.
I was talking with Al one day. And I was explaining how a long-term relationship is like a religion. They both have similar hallmarks...
"Half the time you get surprised it's with some shit you didn't even want, the other half of the time you get surprised, you barely avoid getting killed."
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
It is to such a morning that Alphonse wakes up, light pouring in through the blinds and over the bed sheets.
"No," said Ed, his voice quiet. "You can't hurt me."
It was sure to be a disaster.