Work Text:
A loud clatter comes from the kitchen, things falling one after another in a game of “Who can wake Ed up the fastest?” He sits up on his bed, rubbing his eyes and grunting, muttering something about bastards who aren’t considerate of those trying to SLEEP in this goddamn house.
As he gets up, a chill runs down his spine, and the air becomes thick. The following sound coming from the kitchen causes him to tense up.
“Ah, fu-”
At the speed of light, a metal blade appears at Alphonse’s throat, stopping the boy right in his tracks. He gasps, then sighs, taking Edward’s arm and pulling himself out of the headlock.
“Sorry, brother, I made a mess and woke you up.” Alphonse chuckles and scratches the back of his head, leaning forward to back. Edward lets go of the knife and crosses his arms, eyeing Alphonse with a tired and pissed off look. .
“Yeah, what kind of idiot decides to make what appears to be a sandwich at two in the goddamn morning?”
“This idiot.”
Edward scoffs, rolling his eyes at his bashful younger brother. He looks at the pile of cutlery on the floor and jumps, stepping away from them as Alphonse laughs again and picks them up. “Yeah, I’ll try not to drop stuff like that next time.”
“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?”
“Of course!” Alphonse gives an offended look.
“Right.” Edward turns to head back to his room and stops, turning back to give Alphonse a threatening stare.
“By the way, you weren’t about to say ‘fuck’ when you dropped that crap, right?”
Alphonse tilts his head. “Uh, I don’t know. I was about to react but you suddenly had that knife at my throat, like a fool!”
Edward sets his hand on his chin in response, mockingly trying to remember what he had done. “Oh yeah, I did do that, didn’t I?”
“It was kind of scary actually! You’re so mean!”
“Hehe, I guess I am.” A shit eating grin grows on Edward’s face, and Alphonse frowns in response. “Anyway, have fun with your sandwich.” Ed turns on his heel and walks off, Alphonse looking at him confusingly before taking the remains of his unfinished sandwich and taking a regretful bite.
*************************
The sky is a light blue outside in Resembool, the sun shines brightly on the fields and a light breeze causes the trees to sway. Alphonse plays with Den in the yard, chasing each other around and throwing alchemy-made toys for the dog to catch. Ed and Winry bicker in the background, Winry dropping a box of tools just to smack Ed on the back of his head. Al notices this and laughs, his attention recklessly diverting from the excited dog.
The collision happens immediately, an unsuspecting teenager and a far too ecstatic dog crashing down into the grass. Alphonse cries out in pain and the dog whimpers before jumping off and stepping back.
“Al!” Ed shouts, running towards the scene. “Are you alright?”
“Ah shoot,” Alphonse whispers, hand over his bloodied shoulder. “It’s nothing too bad, he just clawed me in the arm!”
“Oh Den,” Winry sighs, “you gotta be more careful, especially with that automail limb of yours, you could’ve really hurt him!” The dog whimpers with guilt, wagging his tail side to side. Winry turns to Al. “We just gotta fix you up, then.”
They enter the house, and Winry gets her first aid kit. “I’ve always told you guys how important these are!” she scolds. “Maybe you wouldn’t have had such a hard time those years ago if you carried one of these around!”
“Yeah yeah, we get it,” Ed interrupts, “now can you get back to getting my brother a bandage?”
Winry rolls her eyes in response, taking out some supplies, along with alcohol, gauze, and a bandage. She works her magic on Al, first with the alcohol-”to get rid of infection!”-then a gauze, then wrapping the bandage around his arm. She furrows her brow. “Shoot, I forgot something, Ed, can you keep this tight while I go get it?”
Ed groans, “Alright.” He grabs the leftover bandage and squeezes, worried it might come undone. He squeezes too tight, however, and Al hisses in pain, clenching his eyes shut.
“Fu-”
A wrench flies through the air, hitting Alphonse square in the forehead. He blinks, then brings his free arm to his head.
“OW!!! Winry!!”
“No swearing in this house, Alphonse Elric!” she scolds. Ed snickers.
“Yeah Al, don’t fucking swear!” The comment gives Ed the handle of a screwdriver right to his temple.
**********
“I can’t believe Mustang is still on my ass,” Ed whines, walking over to the couch and falling into it in defeat. “I’m not a State Alchemist anymore, what business does he have with me?”
“Brother, we’ve been running in and out of the country for the past two years, he probably wants to make sure we’re not doing anything illegal.” Al smiles in pity, showing a letter he had received from the same man. “He’s been asking me loads of questions, probably thinking I’m easier to convince than you are.”
Ed scoffs. “Looks like that man doesn’t know us at all.”
“I've learned my lesson ever since that incident. I’m not so gullible anymore!”
“Pfft, sure Mr. ‘Doesn’t Put Shoes on a Table Because it Brings Bad Luck.’”
“It’s gross anyway! Plus, nothing bad’s happened to me in the past few years!”
“Right, and that’s because of a shoe?”
“You don’t know it’s not because of the shoe!”
“You guys are idiots,” Winry chimes in, setting down an apple pie on the table. Ed and Al gasp, eyes sparkling at the sight of the golden brown pie, smoke slightly visible and smell filling up the boys’ noses. They sigh in relief, all past debates and complaints entirely forgotten. Winry passes them some napkins and they take a slice, bringing more warm apple smell into the room. Ed takes a bite, closing his eyes and moaning softly.
“God, I love you, Winry,” he sighs, slightly muffled due to the huge piece of pie in his mouth. He leans back on the coach, taking the time to enjoy the few bites he has left.
Al also takes a bite, chewing slowly and smiling broadly, clapping his hands together and bringing them to his mouth. “You’ve really got yourself a good one here, Brother.” Winry frowns, picking up the leftover pie and bringing it close to her face.
“Hey, I’m more than just a pie maker!”
“But goddamn if you don’t make amazing pies,” Ed chuckles in response. “You’ve really perfected that recipe Gracia gave you.”
“I’d say it surpasses Gracia’s!” Alphonse chips in. “It’s fucking amazing is what it is!”
The room goes silent, lacking even the sound of breaths. Winry drops the pie, plate clattering on the floor and pie breaking into pieces smushed on the wooden floor. Ed blinks, the slice of pie slipping out of his hand. He turns his head slowly, staring at Alphonse with wide eyes and mouth in a straight horizontal line. Alphonse shrugs, making a confused expression.
“Did I say something?” he asks innocently. Winry drops to the floor, face in her hands.
“And over my pie, no less…” she mumbles. Ed runs over to comfort her, whispering in her ear.
“It’s not your fault,” he says, “you just innocently made a pie, we couldn’t have suspected this would happen.”
“My innocent boy,” she sobs, “is a nasty swearer!!!”
Alphonse stands, his expression changing to annoyed. “It was one word! And I’m only one year younger than you!”
“Enough!” Ed cries, tears coming out of his eyes. “You’ve done enough!”
Alphonse shakes his head and rolls his eyes, walking out of the room with a soft “You guys are weird…”