After so many years in the dark, Edward Elric had discovered he had a libido after all, and it was unfortunately exacting its frustrated vengeance upon one Alphonse Elric.
It's important that a little light always comes in, even if it's only enough to see shadows and outlines, and not words at all.
...when he presses his hand against the scraped array and wills it to activate, he can't help but send a whispered prayer to it. Please work. Please, please...
Why was Ed still letting this fear haunt him? How long was the lingering pain of these old wounds going to hang between them?
Boys shouldn't do this, either with their brothers or with any other boy.
Sometimes he feels like an actor, playing to an especially difficult audience.
It wasn't enough just to know what chemical components went into a human body, not if the structural knowledge was completely lacking.
The creature tilted its head, eyeing the two men to the side of her, and slid off its precarious perch.
The water streamed clear and icy through his fingers- and all at once he straightened, laughing, to flick the last few drops into his brother’s face.
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.
For an instant, a look passed between them, and Alphonse could almost imagine that he saw his own emotions reflected within the eyes of his brother.
Who knew how long it would take to find Al and take down those who'd conspired to feign his death?
It was so, so much easier just to go hungry than to try their hands at something she'd done so well.
"You know we need to catch that train to Central, and you were being unreasonable. If we're late getting back again, General Mustang's going to have a fit."
If it didn't rain so often, Ed thought, he might feel a little more like he could make plans.
His brother seemed to like it when the leather left marks, a residual token of ownership, even when the collar (by job-dictated necessity) had to be removed.
We were the naive kings of all we surveyed, lingering on the hilltop as we stared at our kingdom of ash, of ruins, of dust.
It is to such a morning that Alphonse wakes up, light pouring in through the blinds and over the bed sheets.
"I forgot my....the ticky thing? It's...it's round and it...tells the time..."
But he's traveled like this before, and the hope that it won't end in failure a second time is, at this moment, enough.
"Get out of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
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.
People all have different ideas of beauty, Al knows, and no two ever appear to be the same.
It's almost as though Al is the blind one, seeking to memorize his brother's features by touch.
“Are you all right, Loincloth Witch Alphonse?” “Y-y-yes,” the young hero stammered, feeling as though at any moment his heart might leap right through his ribcage.
"Don't worry about it," he says bossily. "I know what to do. Give me the book--don't close it--ah, thanks."
Sometimes Al thinks that somewhere back in the Armstrong family tree lurks an alchemical accident in a sequin factory.
Twenty-one days, and it all falls down.
If he would permit himself to be honest, Alphonse would admit to Roy that he hates the rain, too.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
"It was a while ago," he offered nervously. "Before your time. He's, uh, well, he was a persistent bastard, and... You're not mad, are you?"
There was gold in the middle of midnight, and Envy smiled over his satisfaction.
His ruse works; Ed dismisses him - with a harsh, impatient rejoinder that he isn't finished yet - and devotes his attention to his brother.
Everything — Ed's wishes, his remaining dignity, even his trust — was going to have to come second to Ed's life.
"I know," Ed replies, and grins. "I mean, I can totally see why. Nobody else kisses the way I do."
Al can see his handwriting -- which closely resembles the marks a tap-dancing spider might make if it fell in an ink pot first.
In the summer they competed at climbing through the twisting branches, risking life and bruises to collect baskets of fruit and bring them back home.
"It's blue!" Edward announced with the voice of desperation.
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...
Ed tosses four sausages at once into his mouth and swallows almost without chewing, shooting Al a smug, triumphant grin.
Al didn't complain about his brother's occasional delinquency, so Ed didn't have room to complain about Al's taste in boyfriends.
The house rumbled gently, as a cat purrs, and Alphonse tied off the braid, pressing his hands to Edward's scalp one more time before dropping them to his side.
"He's the Fullmetal Alchemist," Alphonse interrupted, tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Are you sure you're up to the task?"