Significant age difference, whether actual, apparent, or implied.
Ed was good; here they both were, trying to call each other's bluff.
He was glad his expression rarely reflected what he felt on the inside.
His brother seemed to like it when the leather left marks, a residual token of ownership, even when the collar (by job-dictated necessity) had to be removed.
In the summer they competed at climbing through the twisting branches, risking life and bruises to collect baskets of fruit and bring them back home.
There was uncertainty in those eyes, and wounded pride, but there was no less passion, and therefore, Roy was no less terrified.
Envy would never let him forget that the price of pride was destruction, and that those who infringed upon God's domain were damned.
"What I did here was nothing out of the ordinary. You are lucky you were shown it so early."
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.
He had started to wonder if it was Edward or himself that was farther out of reach at the moment.
It was an old argument — practically every night, the ritual sparring for who'd be in control.
Boys shouldn't do this, either with their brothers or with any other boy.
"It's just a hazing, Elric," said the first voice, almost gently.
"I'm not thirteen," Al said, as if reading his mind.
"Apparently their mother never cautioned them to stay away from strangers with cars."
He made the slip-up not whilst in the throes of passion, but rather, sitting quite peacefully at the kitchen table, watching the slender blond cook.
“I’ve never seen an alchemist who didn’t need to draw one of those circles,” he complimented, in a tone just shy of cooing. “You must be pretty special.”
I have enough things to worry about without dragging you into my messes. Why did you have to be the one to come after me?
"Yeah, so I hear the best way to get anything out of you is by going through your pants," the boy said evenly.