Comedy, slapstick, and (sometimes) bad puns.
"I must savor every moment of every love letter I recieve to do the sender justice," Mustang said, before proceeding to open the letter.
Apparently, years of stress had jaded Ed into thinking that if things were looking good now, then something terrible must be around the corner.
Typical Ed; overprotective, hypocritical, condescending, and for some reason fundamentally incapable of treating Al as an equal.
"That's what you said last time. And the time before that. And," he added, dragging the feather upward with maddening slowness, "The time before that."
His boyfriend. He wants me to be his boyfriend. He's wooing me with gifts. I'm being courted!
"When I walked in on you in the bath, Edward, I wasn't expecting Al to be there too."
One day Edward was out kicking the crap out of those damn Homunculus with Al...
"You are so dead, bastard," Ed said, still in that dreamy tone, and took a step forwards.
Ed frowned slightly; that thought pushed dangerously at the border of sappiness.
"And search for free porn." Havoc pointed out.
Not a fairy, then, Alfons thought in disappointment. The fairies in stories weren't usually so foul-mouthed and excitable, anyway.
Ed should have remembered this from that month on the island, back when he was a kid: you can only be in the great outdoors so long before you start dreaming of hot showers. And of dumping the people you're travelling with in them.
If Ed had his way, his allowance (and all of Roy's salary) would be spent entirely on the most expensive brand of dog food to have ever existed.
The door opened, and all the energy Ed had been ready to put towards transmuting the door into a pile of sticks drained out of him through his feet.
It took you long enough to make your call. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to work a phone.
"Tall girls need not apply," Hughes read aloud, without even the trace of a smirk.
rated:K | M+F S+S | Fullmetal | mid-series | First Place, Het & Non-Het | Green Lion Winner | Riza Hawkeye | Roy Mustang | angst | humor | sweet | Elric Kyoudai | 354th FG HQ | 2004 First Kiss, Non-Het
They would have had a bitter bitchfight had both suddenly not stopped and realized it was all Roy's fault.
"Shut up. Don't say anything. I made you food, and there's beer in the icebox, and happy fucking Oktoberfest."
Some of the stuff he was asked to investigate was truly stupid shit. A bakery, for instance.
She looked the wire over for a minute, noting where the insulation had been stripped away for retuning, then tugged it gently, careful not to pull too hard.
Roy smiled slowly as Edward approached his desk, his usual careless pose turned into something... challenging.
You had to hand it to Roy, he certainly knew how to keep his cool.
The kid is easily recognizable by his golden hair and eyes, his automail arm and leg, and the obvious chip on the shoulder.
"Let me get this straight — you want to kiss me to support a theory!?"
Ed looked down at the camera again, and smiled an evil, evil smile.
"Brother says Mr. Mustang grabbed his behind today while he was at the blackboard," he explained as his blush slowly faded, and Ed scowled.
"You know it's a good thing I heal almost immediately, because otherwise I'd be so sore, I'd never get anywhere in the story."
"...That is an order, Fullmetal, and I will have you court-martialed if you refuse."
"Brother," Alphonse said, voice soft with horror, "I think that Winry's going to kill you."
"You can't do that! This is a shounen series!" he hissed.
"I'll have you know I'm in a committed monogamous relationship."
At a large mahogany desk, polished to an almost jewel-like shine, sat Colonel Edward Elric, who was deep into his paperwork. Or at least that is how he appeared.
He realized for the first time that Edward, who he was used to seeing shadowed by blood and sweat and his own private sorrows, was actually beautiful.
"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?"
"No funny business!" Ed thundered, not fooled for one minute by that innocent look.
"Huh? Whose fault? Ahahah.. aha..." Ed tried to avoid the topic.
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
If armor could narrow its eyes, Ed knew Al would have been doing so.
The magazine told him he was doing it all wrong. First, it said he was boring. Then, it said he was bad in bed. Next, it said he was inconsiderate. After that, it told him he was gullible.
"My neighbors would start saying things behind my back if I took home a suit of armor."
This would be so much easier if he could just refuse the man to his face.
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.
You could attribute it to teenage rebellion, if you liked, or to homunculus-hormones, which could be quite fierce, or heck, maybe she was just living up to her name.
He decided, then, quite firmly, that he wasn't ever going to drink coffee again, with anybody. It was too risky.
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ed went on, poking Roy in the chest, "I am no longer twelve."