What happens when WAFF meets PWP: feeling good, little plot required.
"YOU HAVE JUST INTERRUPTED AN IMPORTANT TRIP. IF YOU WISH TO NOT BE BEATEN WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR LIFE, YOU BETTER ABANDON THE TRAIN RIGHT NOW!"
The room had gotten hot and stuffy, and there was sweat on both of his hands, though the sheen on the automail had not come from his own body.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
Alphonse settled for a barely audible sigh and hoped that his brother knew what he was doing.
"Are you saying," Al inquired, slowly, "that you never believed that I didn't blame you?"
"You know, Al, you don't have to warm yourself in the sun for me."
He would have killed, before a nonexistent God and Winry, to be that goddamn spatula.
Ed imagined Al's expression would look something like Fletcher's did right now.
"He's a smug arrogant prick and Jean's a lazy bastard with a mouth like an ashtray."
Al, at 17, had discovered that mornings were unbearable for the first time in his life, and waking up before ten o'clock in the morning was pure agony.
"I must savor every moment of every love letter I recieve to do the sender justice," Mustang said, before proceeding to open the letter.
... to prove his point, he wields his tongue as he would a pen, hastily spelling out the letters P-E-R-V-E-R-T with his saliva...
Ah. Fans. He preens slightly into his coat, sits up just a little taller on his haunches. Fans he knows how to deal with.
He was not ready to be an uncle! He was ready, however, to hit things and curse.
This is the most perplexing part, for Edward, because often he thinks, how in the hell did I end up with…?
It was the truth, but it sounded lame upon Edward's lips; the way her eyes hooded, she seemed to think so, anyway.
"It's cold and dark and raining, and there are thugs roaming the street - brother, have a heart! He could be killed! He could become kitten stew!"
"Stupid bullies," Ed grumbled, limping for a few steps before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be feeling it. "Call me a girl, will they?"
The showy bastard snapped with a killer grin for their audience and really, Roy was meant for either politics or the stage.
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.
It was a game they often played, what would they do once they got their bodies back.
The Colonel's staff next door ignored the pleas for help and gunshots.
He shuffled into her store nearly six months after she had moved to Central.
Al should've never told his mother the box was a present for Winry.
"I know those court ordered anger management classes were years ago, but you've come such a long way."
He was coming to read Alfons pretty well now too, and from what Al did understand he could give as good as he got.
It made a lovely picture, with the moonlight streaming in thick and silver under the curtains, and Edward silently cursed everything that came to mind...
When he received no immediate response, he drew back and let her go, and the aching vulnerability on his face made her blink in surprise.
The only other tradition that was better than eggnog to Al, was that of mistletoe.
She preferred mechanical work for just that reason; at least you knew with relative certainty what automail was going to do when you did something to it.
When there was no answer, he tried again, but gave up after that. It wasn't like Ed would get eaten by a rabid saucepan, or something.
Apparently, years of stress had jaded Ed into thinking that if things were looking good now, then something terrible must be around the corner.
Ed saw Roy's fingers twitch and curl at his sides as the desire to embrace almost overwhelmed discretion and good sense.
It had been a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Eyes across a crowded room, and all that jazz.
Both Edward and Winry were on hand day and night, looking for anything they could do to ease his way.
"Hey! She did it blindfolded! No one else could do that! And better her than that old hag!"
Anything, she reflected, is worth seeing you so genuinely happy.
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
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.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
"Damnit, brother," Alphonse managed, and Ed grinned at him. "I was only away for a week!"
He's a pessimist with an ego seven miles long; he's a scientist, too, doesn't approve of Al's books.
"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.