He was just moving to light the stove, casting about for a match to begin the flames that would cook their dinner, when the voice drifted in from the other room.
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.
The creature tilted its head, eyeing the two men to the side of her, and slid off its precarious perch.
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.
There was something extremely satisfying about Ed's body.
Alphonse settled for a barely audible sigh and hoped that his brother knew what he was doing.
"I know," Ed replies, and grins. "I mean, I can totally see why. Nobody else kisses the way I do."
Fingertips drifted over curves, up over hips and thighs and the dimple of ribs, and if my eyes were closed, I could have told you in detail every perfect flaw and scar.
When there was no answer, he tried again, but gave up after that. It wasn't like Ed would get eaten by a rabid saucepan, or something.
There were precious few memories remaining, now, dimmed with the passage of time and the years that he’d spent lacking a flesh body, but he kept them close to him all the same.
It wasn't enough just to know what chemical components went into a human body, not if the structural knowledge was completely lacking.
Al didn't complain about his brother's occasional delinquency, so Ed didn't have room to complain about Al's taste in boyfriends.
Twenty-one days, and it all falls down.
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."
The sunrise is spectacular, and it is the first that Edward has been awake to see in years.
Too many more nights of excuses are going to drive him from appropriately celibate to stark raving mad.
"He's the Fullmetal Alchemist," Alphonse interrupted, tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Are you sure you're up to the task?"
"I'm sorry Al," he said at last. "For what it's worth, I never meant for this to happen to you."
...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...
This was getting crazy. He knew that his college years ran equivalent with his sexual peak, but honestly?
How do you condition the unconditional?
He realized for the first time that Edward, who he was used to seeing shadowed by blood and sweat and his own private sorrows, was actually beautiful.
Apparently, years of stress had jaded Ed into thinking that if things were looking good now, then something terrible must be around the corner.
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.
Who knew how long it would take to find Al and take down those who'd conspired to feign his death?
They say that a wizard lives in the log cabin, on the other side of the dark woods and the silver river.
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.
"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."
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.
Faith didn't hold much of a place in my life; science was my passion, something I could see, something I could feel, could make sense of.
He's a pessimist with an ego seven miles long; he's a scientist, too, doesn't approve of Al's books.
The only other tradition that was better than eggnog to Al, was that of mistletoe.
"Are you saying," Al inquired, slowly, "that you never believed that I didn't blame you?"
"Damnit, brother," Alphonse managed, and Ed grinned at him. "I was only away for a week!"
"You aren't Envy, are you? Because if you are, I'll kick your ass and find out what you've done with my brother."
"Stop that," he snapped, flicking the tap on. "Change into something a little more appropriate. You're not him, brother."
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...
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.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
"Your arm," said Al, smiling apologetically. "It's kind of heavy."
There were three ways to identify the Fullmetal Alchemist, wherever he went.
Humans are so greedy, the Truth had told him in his dreams; and for all his airs and graces, he is no exception.
"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."
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.
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
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.
It's a paradoxical situation; Alphonse is closer to Edward than he has ever been, yet somehow he feels as if they don't know each other at all.