warm and fuzzy, gentle, sweet, maybe a bit of sap.
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.
"Oh, what would YOU know? said Winry. "You've never looked at a girl in your life."
His friend is blushing, ashamed to be seen in such a condition - and this is not new, either, this is not new at all.
He even dragged out his Best Manners for the occasion, the ones his mother had taught him so long ago.
Edward was like on a dog on a too-short leash, so close to the bone but unable to taste it.
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.
Snuggling on the couch was perhaps the only place where their differences worked with each other, albeit briefly.
Al can see his handwriting -- which closely resembles the marks a tap-dancing spider might make if it fell in an ink pot first.
Winry had been confused by the birthday present she received from Gracia, this year.
Roy had arched an eyebrow, cleared his throat. "Can I ask what it is about my hand that merits such an intense examination?"
Too many more nights of excuses are going to drive him from appropriately celibate to stark raving mad.
Wasn't young love grand, perfect as crystal, flawless as the summer overtures?
There is no way Alfons knows what he does to him.
He had never dared to dream that things could get better, astounded as he'd been by the way air tasted spilling over his tongue...
You're the only person on earth who will ever be able to read this message.
It was only after the sheer sensation had abated — only when he felt on solid enough ground to focus on the subtleties of life once more — that the habit began to catch his attention.
Edward had come into his life, taken over his life; and sometimes Roy wondered what was left of it for him.
He has lots of women like her, who would like to be his anchor, and too many of them confuse that for throwing themselves head first into the ocean.
The sunrise is spectacular, and it is the first that Edward has been awake to see in years.
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.
It was a big world out there, full of more possibilities than either of them could dream of.
His tone was all weary patience, as though explaining to a child why candy was out of the question until after dinner.
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.
"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."
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 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.
It was sure to be a disaster.
Itís February in Central. Thereís nothing better to do.
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.
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.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
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.
"It's cheating," he declared at last, "To pick a fight while I ache."
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
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.
"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.
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."
It was a pleasant thing, warm and innocently tender.
There were people here who did not run screaming when he whipped out a photo. Or five.
When Havoc came back from lunch, he wondered why Hawkeye was picking up scattered papers with a small and warm smile on her face.
"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
"Get out of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
Usually when he wanted something he just took the steps he knew were necessary to getting it.
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 is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
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.