FMA: 52 Flavours, Prompt 15
Title: Bacchus Hath Drowned
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Theme no.: 15. On purpose to confound this scoundrel’s pride
Pairing: Ed, Winry, Al
Rating: K+
Summary: “Don’t you think we’re taking advantage of him?” A weakness of Ed’s is exploited.
Notes: Second half of an update for
52_flavours- and actually the second one I wrote for the series. It’s merely a sign of affection on my behalf - the most I love a series, the more I want to write drunken shenanigans for it. This is straight out pure silliness. I have a very clear picture of Al as an adult. Mischievousness and snarkiness is involved.
15. On purpose to confound this scoundrel's pride
The summer Al turned seventeen eventually went down as one of the fonder memories of Winry’s lifetime. It was one of those rare - especially for her - periods of time where things were calm; Al’s classes at the local college went on a short break, and Winry set up a short-term contract with the military, working with the medical units to upgrade and replace the automail of some of their disabled members. Ed - whether it was through his own desires or lack of missions for Roy to send him on - actually stayed in Central without wandering too much, spending most of his days prowling through the libraries, digging up old books that hadn’t been touched in years and developing new theories.
Even the weather cooperated - the supposed dog days never came, choosing instead to stay mild the whole summer, with only a few warm rain showers to keep the country from falling into drought.
It was, in a word, idealistic, even if it only lasted a short time. The season and the weather and Al’s birthday combined to spur a kind of fever in the trio - at least, on Al and Winry’s part and Ed was merely dragged along for the ride - to go out and act their age for once, something they rarely, if ever, did.
Al’s birthday was spent as an intimate affair at Gracia’s; a huge dinner along, with several different desserts, was laid out and only afterwards, when everybody lounged around, overstuffed and half-sleepy with wine, did Mustang speak the words that had prompted Al and Winry into action.
“I’m surprised you wanted to spend your birthday here, Al,” he murmured, head tilted against the back of the couch as he waited for his meal to digest. “When I was your age me and my friends would spend every night of the week having drinking contests in a different bar.”
Those had been his exact words - Winry remembered them because Gracia had accused him of corrupting youth and thwacked him soundly in the head with one hand while balancing a stack of plates in the other.
Ed had snorted, and Winry had chuckled, but Al, a living quest to try every new thing possible, had made an attempt to sit up a little straighter and asked curiously, “What sort of contests?”
That had been the official start to their summer. Sometimes they played card games, and sometimes they placed bets, but the core rules always remained the same: first one to fall down paid the tab. Last one standing chose the drinks first round next time they were out.
Ed spent a lot of money that summer.
Winry didn’t notice at first; she was too busy scouting bars with Al and coaxing Ed out of the library and then trying to convince him to look up hangover cures when she couldn’t get him out of the library and cleaning up messes the next day and, after one particularly wild night, repairing Ed’s arm after inadvertently goading him into destroying it (and all three had learned an important lesson: even a State Alchemist is a terrible alchemist after mixing ales with several shots of whiskey).
It wasn’t until late one July night that it finally hit her. She and Al were lugging Ed back to the tiny apartment the brothers shared, not long after last call. Despite the fact that the night air and the walk back was helping Al and Winry sober up, Ed was still slung between them as they trudged in the darkness. They weren’t helped by the fact that Al was significantly taller than both Ed and Winry; Ed’s automail foot was dragging on the ground, occasionally sparking in the darkness. He’d lost the shoe a while back.
“You know,” Winry sighed, “this wouldn’t be as bad if you two didn’t live on the fourth floor.”
Al laughed. “It wouldn’t be as bad if the two of us had to drag you home every night instead of Ed here.” He glanced down at his brother with a mixture of irritation and fondness. “Thank god he isn’t really full metal. It would add another fifty or so pounds to him.”
Winry sighed. “And this is my lightest automail yet…” Her brain started to wander back to her workshop, mentally flipping through her materials and what she could try making Ed’s next arm out of.
Then an odd thought popped into her head. “Al?”
“Hmm?”
“Has Ed won any of our contests this summer?” She blinked as she thought about their nights out. “Has he even… not lost yet?”
“’Course not,” Al answered instantly. “His body mass is way smaller than ours. He’ll never keep up with us.”
Her jaw dropped. Al had known the whole time, which meant - “Don’t you think we’re taking advantage of him?” she blurted out.
Al tilted his head and considered her words. “I think it’s beneficial to Ed’s ego to not be good at something for once.”
Winry scoffed in tones of mock scandal. “Ed’s not good at lots of things! Like keeping up with automail maintenance and remembering birthdays and knowing when to shut up and…” she rubbed the back of her head. “Growing.”
Al laughed again, throwing his head back as his shoulders shook.
Between them, Ed groaned aloud and mumbled something in his sleep about highway robbers.
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Theme no.: 15. On purpose to confound this scoundrel’s pride
Pairing: Ed, Winry, Al
Rating: K+
Summary: “Don’t you think we’re taking advantage of him?” A weakness of Ed’s is exploited.
Notes: Second half of an update for
52_flavours- and actually the second one I wrote for the series. It’s merely a sign of affection on my behalf - the most I love a series, the more I want to write drunken shenanigans for it. This is straight out pure silliness. I have a very clear picture of Al as an adult. Mischievousness and snarkiness is involved.
15. On purpose to confound this scoundrel's pride
The summer Al turned seventeen eventually went down as one of the fonder memories of Winry’s lifetime. It was one of those rare - especially for her - periods of time where things were calm; Al’s classes at the local college went on a short break, and Winry set up a short-term contract with the military, working with the medical units to upgrade and replace the automail of some of their disabled members. Ed - whether it was through his own desires or lack of missions for Roy to send him on - actually stayed in Central without wandering too much, spending most of his days prowling through the libraries, digging up old books that hadn’t been touched in years and developing new theories.
Even the weather cooperated - the supposed dog days never came, choosing instead to stay mild the whole summer, with only a few warm rain showers to keep the country from falling into drought.
It was, in a word, idealistic, even if it only lasted a short time. The season and the weather and Al’s birthday combined to spur a kind of fever in the trio - at least, on Al and Winry’s part and Ed was merely dragged along for the ride - to go out and act their age for once, something they rarely, if ever, did.
Al’s birthday was spent as an intimate affair at Gracia’s; a huge dinner along, with several different desserts, was laid out and only afterwards, when everybody lounged around, overstuffed and half-sleepy with wine, did Mustang speak the words that had prompted Al and Winry into action.
“I’m surprised you wanted to spend your birthday here, Al,” he murmured, head tilted against the back of the couch as he waited for his meal to digest. “When I was your age me and my friends would spend every night of the week having drinking contests in a different bar.”
Those had been his exact words - Winry remembered them because Gracia had accused him of corrupting youth and thwacked him soundly in the head with one hand while balancing a stack of plates in the other.
Ed had snorted, and Winry had chuckled, but Al, a living quest to try every new thing possible, had made an attempt to sit up a little straighter and asked curiously, “What sort of contests?”
That had been the official start to their summer. Sometimes they played card games, and sometimes they placed bets, but the core rules always remained the same: first one to fall down paid the tab. Last one standing chose the drinks first round next time they were out.
Ed spent a lot of money that summer.
Winry didn’t notice at first; she was too busy scouting bars with Al and coaxing Ed out of the library and then trying to convince him to look up hangover cures when she couldn’t get him out of the library and cleaning up messes the next day and, after one particularly wild night, repairing Ed’s arm after inadvertently goading him into destroying it (and all three had learned an important lesson: even a State Alchemist is a terrible alchemist after mixing ales with several shots of whiskey).
It wasn’t until late one July night that it finally hit her. She and Al were lugging Ed back to the tiny apartment the brothers shared, not long after last call. Despite the fact that the night air and the walk back was helping Al and Winry sober up, Ed was still slung between them as they trudged in the darkness. They weren’t helped by the fact that Al was significantly taller than both Ed and Winry; Ed’s automail foot was dragging on the ground, occasionally sparking in the darkness. He’d lost the shoe a while back.
“You know,” Winry sighed, “this wouldn’t be as bad if you two didn’t live on the fourth floor.”
Al laughed. “It wouldn’t be as bad if the two of us had to drag you home every night instead of Ed here.” He glanced down at his brother with a mixture of irritation and fondness. “Thank god he isn’t really full metal. It would add another fifty or so pounds to him.”
Winry sighed. “And this is my lightest automail yet…” Her brain started to wander back to her workshop, mentally flipping through her materials and what she could try making Ed’s next arm out of.
Then an odd thought popped into her head. “Al?”
“Hmm?”
“Has Ed won any of our contests this summer?” She blinked as she thought about their nights out. “Has he even… not lost yet?”
“’Course not,” Al answered instantly. “His body mass is way smaller than ours. He’ll never keep up with us.”
Her jaw dropped. Al had known the whole time, which meant - “Don’t you think we’re taking advantage of him?” she blurted out.
Al tilted his head and considered her words. “I think it’s beneficial to Ed’s ego to not be good at something for once.”
Winry scoffed in tones of mock scandal. “Ed’s not good at lots of things! Like keeping up with automail maintenance and remembering birthdays and knowing when to shut up and…” she rubbed the back of her head. “Growing.”
Al laughed again, throwing his head back as his shoulders shook.
Between them, Ed groaned aloud and mumbled something in his sleep about highway robbers.