What happens when WAFF meets PWP: feeling good, little plot required.
He shuffled into her store nearly six months after she had moved to Central.
"Hey! She did it blindfolded! No one else could do that! And better her than that old hag!"
They say that a wizard lives in the log cabin, on the other side of the dark woods and the silver river.
"Ah, Alphonse-kun, I was wondering when you would wake up."
Ah. Fans. He preens slightly into his coat, sits up just a little taller on his haunches. Fans he knows how to deal with.
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.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
He's a pessimist with an ego seven miles long; he's a scientist, too, doesn't approve of Al's books.
"Are you saying," Al inquired, slowly, "that you never believed that I didn't blame you?"
The Colonel's staff next door ignored the pleas for help and gunshots.
Heaven is this: a short, crisp October day, the clear sky a great bowl above them, the amber valley a chalice below.
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
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.
"I know those court ordered anger management classes were years ago, but you've come such a long way."
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?
So, really, it was only fair that Ed's first, instinctive reaction when Roy hit the ground after slipping off the roof was to snort and tell him, "I told you so."
"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!"
At fifteen he had been intimidating; at thirty, he could be terrifying.
He reminds Alfons of himself, in a way, back after he'd been first diagnosed with his illness; when he used to get up and stare at his face in the washbasin mirror every day and think, I am too young for this.
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.
"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.
Around two o'clock in the afternoon, women around the city began to disappear ... and a crowd, primarily of females, formed along Third Street.
The only problem was that Ed didn't know what the heck "getting some" was or what he was being congratulated for.
He doesn't have time for any of this, oak trees and summer days and a pale, bony hand twined with his.
His boyfriend. He wants me to be his boyfriend. He's wooing me with gifts. I'm being courted!
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.
"He's a smug arrogant prick and Jean's a lazy bastard with a mouth like an ashtray."
"He's the Fullmetal Alchemist," Alphonse interrupted, tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Are you sure you're up to the task?"
"I must savor every moment of every love letter I recieve to do the sender justice," Mustang said, before proceeding to open the letter.
And he was tired, and he did eventually fall asleep, to the vague hum of voices in discussion downstairs.
He lay back on the couch (in Roy Mustang's office, where else?) and declared , "I'm not wearing this."
"This one's for you, Al." Edward swore, raised the glass to his lips, and braced for the impact.
"You know, Al, you don't have to warm yourself in the sun for me."
It had been a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Eyes across a crowded room, and all that jazz.
Ed's heart began pounding in anticipation of the rush he'd feel when the process was over.
Ed saw Roy's fingers twitch and curl at his sides as the desire to embrace almost overwhelmed discretion and good sense.
Alphonse Elric was a gentle soul, and he detested fighting.
Alphonse settled for a barely audible sigh and hoped that his brother knew what he was doing.
This would be so much easier if he could just refuse the man to his face.
Ed peeked into the last box and began to grin. "Twelve-layer chocolate cake," he said. "Wow, a whole slice."
Both Edward and Winry were on hand day and night, looking for anything they could do to ease his way.
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.
"Of course, that depends how you define cruel," he adds, amused.