Significant age difference, whether actual, apparent, or implied.
"Yeah, so I hear the best way to get anything out of you is by going through your pants," the boy said evenly.
“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.”
"What I did here was nothing out of the ordinary. You are lucky you were shown it so early."
He was glad his expression rarely reflected what he felt on the inside.
"Apparently their mother never cautioned them to stay away from strangers with cars."
"It's just a hazing, Elric," said the first voice, almost gently.
He had started to wonder if it was Edward or himself that was farther out of reach at the moment.
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?
"I'm not thirteen," Al said, as if reading his mind.
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.
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.
Boys shouldn't do this, either with their brothers or with any other boy.
It was an old argument — practically every night, the ritual sparring for who'd be in control.
Ed was good; here they both were, trying to call each other's bluff.
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.
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.
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.