Comedy, slapstick, and (sometimes) bad puns.
“I said no, Fullmetal--hey, what are you mmnph!”
The logical thing was that brother defer to brother, who would have thought in this one instance that selfishness would rear its head?
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.
It took you long enough to make your call. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to work a phone.
Eventually, Roy had to take things into his own hands. Was it really his fault that it had ended up so literal?
“Sir,” he says, and Roy could be imagining it, but he thinks Falman’s usually flat tone has a hint of panic in it. “Have you read this memo yet?”
Artificial muscles and steel could not replace the level of sensitivity real muscle and skin had.
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
Unexpectedly, the door flew open with a loud bang, steps sounded on the tile, and a very familiar, very cranky voice said...
Thank you General Mustang. At least that creep was good for something. Winry still wasn't convinced he was good for Ed.
Now Ed was into his favorite mode, bitch-at-the-bastard-father-who-ditched-us.
The Colonel narrowly saved himself the disgrace of fumbling for Edward's name (Id? Alex? Eowan?) by resorting, once again, to his title.
Roy smiled slowly as Edward approached his desk, his usual careless pose turned into something... challenging.
Winry was ten when her grandmother commented that she already needed training bras.
Around two o'clock in the afternoon, women around the city began to disappear ... and a crowd, primarily of females, formed along Third Street.
A small biological flaw, if one could even consider it that.
Roy stuck a finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as he savored the heavy and rich fluid.
“You just need to make it clear to him that he may have an opinion on the matter, but in the end, you’re the one who’s going to be doing all the work. Roy and I had that discussion months ago, and he’s been very cooperative ever since.”
To every outlandish, self-serving, and sometimes damn near suicidal thing that Edward Elric suggested, Jean Havoc would always reply mildly, with just a touch of good humor, "You're the boss."
"I'm sorry! Look, I'll fix it. I didn't know it was going to turn out this way!"
"Get out of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
He mostly trusted his brother to be able to put a nearly-three-year-old to bed by himself, but...Al should probably check, just to be sure.
"I like you a lot Al. I really do. It's just... you are kind of intimidating..." and seven feet tall, made of metal and a boy...
There was a crunching noise from Roy's direction, as of teeth biting through the edge of a porcelain cup.
He underestimates the little things, like how long it will take him to put his socks on in the morning, and she comes up the stairs when breakfast is long since over to find him crouched over a torn stocking, blinking back furious tears...
"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."
Ed frowned slightly; that thought pushed dangerously at the border of sappiness.
Even Hawkeye could be caught off guard, and the men moving in too late, even five seconds too long, too far away.
He didn't die of natural causes, oh no — the old man clung to life tenaciously.
"I'll have you know I'm in a committed monogamous relationship."
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.
"So by 'torture,' you really mean 'sexual gratification'. Specifically your sexual gratification.
The Colonel's staff next door ignored the pleas for help and gunshots.
"So ...." Havoc tried to look nonchalant. "Fullmetal's hair is, uh ... bright."
"You and I? Sleeping together?" Hughes snorted disdain, and spared a hand to push his glasses back up his face. "Ridiculous!"
"Al," Ed said seriously and leaned forward to look up into his brother's glowing eyes, "if he had mind control powers, you would tell me, right?"
"I believe my exact words were, 'a microscopically short bean boy the size of a pin'."
He could imagine the words Fix typed as coming from his brother, and it afforded him a little bit of indulgence in his horrible, sinful, uncontrollable urges.
"All this will do is give your soul access to the feelings that should be in your body right now, just like a normal teenage boy."
High school and sexuality are hard enough to deal with, without adding high explosives to the mix.
Edward glared up at him, wiping some of the stuff off his nose.
"Huh? Whose fault? Ahahah.. aha..." Ed tried to avoid the topic.
"Stop that," he snapped, flicking the tap on. "Change into something a little more appropriate. You're not him, brother."
Fullmetal smiled a long, slow smile, the sort that promised evil things were in the near future, and put his boots up on Roy's desk.
Typical Ed; overprotective, hypocritical, condescending, and for some reason fundamentally incapable of treating Al as an equal.
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
Okay, his hair wasn't brushed, and it had been a while since he'd gotten a bath, but he didn't think it was anything to blush at.
It started with Ling's lips simply pressed up against Ed's. Well, of course it did. That was how kisses sort of went, but this was, well, a bit surprising.