What happens when WAFF meets PWP: feeling good, little plot required.
It was the truth, but it sounded lame upon Edward's lips; the way her eyes hooded, she seemed to think so, anyway.
"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!"
He was not ready to be an uncle! He was ready, however, to hit things and curse.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
And he was tired, and he did eventually fall asleep, to the vague hum of voices in discussion downstairs.
Both Edward and Winry were on hand day and night, looking for anything they could do to ease his way.
Al should've never told his mother the box was a present for Winry.
"You know, Al, you don't have to warm yourself in the sun for me."
"Huh? Whose fault? Ahahah.. aha..." Ed tried to avoid the topic.
Heaven is this: a short, crisp October day, the clear sky a great bowl above them, the amber valley a chalice below.
The Colonel's staff next door ignored the pleas for help and gunshots.
He would have killed, before a nonexistent God and Winry, to be that goddamn spatula.
Alphonse settled for a barely audible sigh and hoped that his brother knew what he was doing.
"Hey! She did it blindfolded! No one else could do that! And better her than that old hag!"
At fifteen he had been intimidating; at thirty, he could be terrifying.
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.
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.
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...
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
"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.
It was a game they often played, what would they do once they got their bodies back.
If you want to find Edward Elric in Central City, you have to be a National Alchemist.
Ed was normally a cheerful, friendly drunk, thank goodness, but the slightest hint of reproach or anger on Al's part would send Ed into a crashing depression.
He would ask questions, even though Al knew he didn't particularly care, simply because he liked seeing Alphonse so animated about something.
Ed peeked into the last box and began to grin. "Twelve-layer chocolate cake," he said. "Wow, a whole slice."
Alphonse Elric was a gentle soul, and he detested fighting.
Ed saw Roy's fingers twitch and curl at his sides as the desire to embrace almost overwhelmed discretion and good sense.
He was coming to read Alfons pretty well now too, and from what Al did understand he could give as good as he got.
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?
"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.
"Damnit, brother," Alphonse managed, and Ed grinned at him. "I was only away for a week!"
"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?"
It had been a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Eyes across a crowded room, and all that jazz.
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.
Ed imagined Al's expression would look something like Fletcher's did right now.
"Are you saying," Al inquired, slowly, "that you never believed that I didn't blame you?"
A hand was extended, and he finally, finally took it, even if he didn't use it to pull himself up.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
Somehow, this volunteer assignment wasn't starting out exactly the way she'd hoped it would.
People all have different ideas of beauty, Al knows, and no two ever appear to be the same.
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.
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.