What happens when WAFF meets PWP: feeling good, little plot required.
"How do you manage to win, even when you lose?" he asked sleepily, some time later.
He's a pessimist with an ego seven miles long; he's a scientist, too, doesn't approve of Al's books.
Both Edward and Winry were on hand day and night, looking for anything they could do to ease his way.
Ed saw Roy's fingers twitch and curl at his sides as the desire to embrace almost overwhelmed discretion and good sense.
He shuffled into her store nearly six months after she had moved to Central.
Wouldn't it be easier, after all, to slip from beneath the blankets and return to his own bed, all but unused for the past month?
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.
Wasn't young love grand, perfect as crystal, flawless as the summer overtures?
It didn't fool Al one bit when his brother tried to sneak into their dorm room long after curfew, but that didn't stop Ed from trying.
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.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
Anything, she reflected, is worth seeing you so genuinely happy.
"Hey! She did it blindfolded! No one else could do that! And better her than that old hag!"
"He's the Fullmetal Alchemist," Alphonse interrupted, tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Are you sure you're up to the task?"
"Do you remember that song Mom used to sing to us?" He asked instead, concentrating on the tiny kinks of the inside of his detached leg.
His boyfriend. He wants me to be his boyfriend. He's wooing me with gifts. I'm being courted!
"Ah, Alphonse-kun, I was wondering when you would wake up."
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's heart began pounding in anticipation of the rush he'd feel when the process was over.
He was not ready to be an uncle! He was ready, however, to hit things and curse.
He would have killed, before a nonexistent God and Winry, to be that goddamn spatula.
"I must savor every moment of every love letter I recieve to do the sender justice," Mustang said, before proceeding to open the letter.
Ah. Fans. He preens slightly into his coat, sits up just a little taller on his haunches. Fans he knows how to deal with.
The only other tradition that was better than eggnog to Al, was that of mistletoe.
They say that a wizard lives in the log cabin, on the other side of the dark woods and the silver river.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
The Colonel's staff next door ignored the pleas for help and gunshots.
"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!"
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.
Ed frowned slightly; that thought pushed dangerously at the border of sappiness.
"I know those court ordered anger management classes were years ago, but you've come such a long way."
The showy bastard snapped with a killer grin for their audience and really, Roy was meant for either politics or the stage.
She laughs to see the grand scholar on his stomach on the floor of the living room, reading his sons a fairy tale from a fat little book.
"This is disgusting," he said aloud, then poked his head through the door and yelled, "Brother! This is disgusting!"
"Are you saying," Al inquired, slowly, "that you never believed that I didn't blame you?"
Heaven is this: a short, crisp October day, the clear sky a great bowl above them, the amber valley a chalice below.
Winry sucked in a gasp, and dropped backward in shock.
"Of course, that depends how you define cruel," he adds, amused.
The only problem was that Ed didn't know what the heck "getting some" was or what he was being congratulated for.
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.
Ed imagined Al's expression would look something like Fletcher's did right now.
It was the truth, but it sounded lame upon Edward's lips; the way her eyes hooded, she seemed to think so, anyway.
It was a game they often played, what would they do once they got their bodies back.
The tree was wobbly, but with a few kicks and shoves Ed got it to stand up in the corner by the window.
He lay back on the couch (in Roy Mustang's office, where else?) and declared , "I'm not wearing this."