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a big apple

Bedtime Stories


Dishes washed, check.  Dried, check.  Put carefully back where they belong, check.  Items Alphonse had bent or broken with an improper application of strength mended?  Check.

Now all he had to do was hope that the Hughes weren’t expecting leftovers when they got back from their date, because Ed had eaten pretty much everything.  And that meatloaf looked so good....  He pulled out his notebook and pen, adding “meatloaf with ketchup top” to the list under the “Mrs. Hughes” heading.  The list was getting pretty long, actually.  Better hurry up and find a way to restore himself, and Ed too—

Ed! 

He mostly trusted his brother to be able to put a nearly-three-year-old to bed by himself, but...Al should probably check, just to be sure.

He made his way down the hall to Elysia’s room as quietly as an echoing suit of armor can, which isn’t precisely quiet so much as creaky and sometimes squeaky with scraping metal.  Still, when he got to Elysia’s half-open door and peeked in, it seemed that neither of them had noticed him coming.

“And then,” Ed read, “her godmother pulled out her special chalk, drew a circle, and transmuted the pumpkin into....  What the...?  This is ridiculous, it totally defies the principle of equivalent exchange!”

If Al had eyes, he would have rolled them.  As it was, all he could do was make the little sighing sound he’d learned to do without breath and creak-squeak his way back down the hall.

Written for FMA Fic Contest Prompt 87: Pumpkin.