warm and fuzzy, gentle, sweet, maybe a bit of sap.
Between Ed's commanding presence and the fact that Al had been an impressively large suit of spiked armor, it had been hard to get to know him much.
It was sure to be a disaster.
His ruse works; Ed dismisses him - with a harsh, impatient rejoinder that he isn't finished yet - and devotes his attention to his brother.
Al can see his handwriting -- which closely resembles the marks a tap-dancing spider might make if it fell in an ink pot first.
"It's cheating," he declared at last, "To pick a fight while I ache."
The desire to go wandering again, to never settle down... it worried Alphonse.
Usually when he wanted something he just took the steps he knew were necessary to getting it.
"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.
There were precious few memories remaining, now, dimmed with the passage of time and the years that heíd spent lacking a flesh body, but he kept them close to him all the same.
"Oh, what would YOU know? said Winry. "You've never looked at a girl in your life."
His tone was all weary patience, as though explaining to a child why candy was out of the question until after dinner.
It is to such a morning that Alphonse wakes up, light pouring in through the blinds and over the bed sheets.
This new life was staggering - more so, the feel of Alphonse's shoulder, warm and flesh beneath his cheek as the train lurched out of the station.
It was a big world out there, full of more possibilities than either of them could dream of.
It was so, so much easier just to go hungry than to try their hands at something she'd done so well.
"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
Tenderly, Ed's flesh fingers threaded into hair that he had created — short and bronze-gold, the same downy texture that he'd recalled from childhood.
The feel of hands on his shoulders woke him, one metal and one flesh, and it was the chill in human fingers that told him how cold the night had grown while he slept.
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.
Edward was like on a dog on a too-short leash, so close to the bone but unable to taste it.
The sunrise is spectacular, and it is the first that Edward has been awake to see in years.
It is snowing in earnest by the time the fire has begun to burn low, but neither boy wants to move to add more wood.
Winry muttered something Scieszka couldn't quite catch, brow furrowed as she leaned in to adjust something on the switchboard.
It was a pleasant thing, warm and innocently tender.
Roy Mustang often looked back on his wedding night, recalling what he had thought about his subordinates; even now, they were his family, his safety, his friends.
"Oh, hello, brother." Alphonse flashed the smaller boy a smile, startled but pleased. "I didnít hear you come outside."
He looks like he wants to scold Ed for swearing, but is afraid to; at the thought, Ed forces his expression to soften, and gives his little brother a wan smile.
"Get out of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
He even dragged out his Best Manners for the occasion, the ones his mother had taught him so long ago.
Theirs is a strange relationship--they know so little about each other--but somehow it's okay, as though knowledge would throw a spanner in the works.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
I know what I feel, I know what I think, and I don't need to chickenscratch the shit down and have the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
That was unacceptable. Anger was to be expected; disgust was not allowed.
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
The water streamed clear and icy through his fingers- and all at once he straightened, laughing, to flick the last few drops into his brotherís face.
It doesnít disappoint, never does; Ed is standing on the corner when the car arrives, all sharp moody edges and obtrusively coloured blue shorts.
Winry had been confused by the birthday present she received from Gracia, this year.
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
Roy had arched an eyebrow, cleared his throat. "Can I ask what it is about my hand that merits such an intense examination?"
Itís February in Central. Thereís nothing better to do.
Wasn't young love grand, perfect as crystal, flawless as the summer overtures?
"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 friend is blushing, ashamed to be seen in such a condition - and this is not new, either, this is not new at all.
It was a lousy day, depressing and the color of the sky on his way home reminded Ed of the color of the Gate and he just felt helpless and sorry and lonely and bad.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
Anything, she reflected, is worth seeing you so genuinely happy.
He wanted to be able to do something like that; tangle limbs and lips and know what it was like to not have a responsibility.
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.