warm and fuzzy, gentle, sweet, maybe a bit of sap.
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.
Anything, she reflected, is worth seeing you so genuinely happy.
Usually when he wanted something he just took the steps he knew were necessary to getting it.
"It's cheating," he declared at last, "To pick a fight while I ache."
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...
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.
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.
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.
His tone was all weary patience, as though explaining to a child why candy was out of the question until after dinner.
His ruse works; Ed dismisses him - with a harsh, impatient rejoinder that he isn't finished yet - and devotes his attention to his brother.
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.
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.
There were people here who did not run screaming when he whipped out a photo. Or five.
"Oh, what would YOU know? said Winry. "You've never looked at a girl in your life."
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
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.
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.
"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.
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.
"Oh, hello, brother." Alphonse flashed the smaller boy a smile, startled but pleased. "I didnít hear you come outside."
Snuggling on the couch was perhaps the only place where their differences worked with each other, albeit briefly.
"Don't worry about it," he says bossily. "I know what to do. Give me the book--don't close it--ah, thanks."
It doesnít disappoint, never does; Ed is standing on the corner when the car arrives, all sharp moody edges and obtrusively coloured blue shorts.
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.
There is no way Alfons knows what he does to him.
It was a pleasant thing, warm and innocently tender.
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.
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
Wasn't young love grand, perfect as crystal, flawless as the summer overtures?
Roy had arched an eyebrow, cleared his throat. "Can I ask what it is about my hand that merits such an intense examination?"
Winry had been confused by the birthday present she received from Gracia, this year.
It was a big world out there, full of more possibilities than either of them could dream of.
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.
When Havoc came back from lunch, he wondered why Hawkeye was picking up scattered papers with a small and warm smile on her face.
Itís February in Central. Thereís nothing better to do.
The sunrise is spectacular, and it is the first that Edward has been awake to see in years.
"Get out of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
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.
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
"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
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.
It is to such a morning that Alphonse wakes up, light pouring in through the blinds and over the bed sheets.
It was so, so much easier just to go hungry than to try their hands at something she'd done so well.
Too many more nights of excuses are going to drive him from appropriately celibate to stark raving mad.
Al can see his handwriting -- which closely resembles the marks a tap-dancing spider might make if it fell in an ink pot first.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.