I'm not really sure how this came up, but it was supposed to be funny until some brotherly angst wiggled its way inside. Sorry.
"I see you're a few limbs shorter today than you are usually."
It was what most people would describe as a perfect day at Central Headquarters. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a gentle breeze rolled through the bustling streets of the city surrounding the base.
And Edward Elric wanted to punch a hole in the wall with his nonexistent automail arm.
"I don't need arms to kick your ass, Bastard."
"Brother.."
Edward scowled deeply as Al handed over the report to one Colonel Roy Mustang, who hardly looked at the thin file before setting on his desk with an infuriating calmness.
Ed visibly seethed when the Colonel smirked and "Dare I ask how this even happened?"
The blond desperately wanted to scratch an itch in his cast, and the sensation only grew when he realized that he couldn't even if there wasn't a cast. His ghost limb tingled in its absence.
"How do you not know?! It's these stupid, dead-end missions you send us on, not my fault!" Ed couldn't stop thinking about the itch.
Alphonse sighed and, though he was metal, felt the weight of the bright red coat in his gauntlets.
"Brother, if you hadn't reached to get your coat, you'd have both arms. You can't even wear it anyway, since you've got a cast now."
"I couldn't just leave it! We don't have time to always run around looking for the fabric I like! I'm tired of my clothes always getting ruined, anyway!"
"And we also don't have time for your broken limbs, Brother." Al had meant it as a simple comeback, but he knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out. Ed's eyes dulled and he shoulders sagged a little, and the weight of the world made itself comfortable upon him.
There was a guilty silence, and for a while, Mustang just wanted to send them away to deal with their brotherly problems elsewhere. But before doing so, he had one more jab.
"So, say I just...pushed you over...you wouldn't be able to catch yourself. You...would just faceplant into the carpet?"
"I will rip your throat out with my teeth."
"You would probably break your nose. Maybe even develop a nasal-quality to your voice."
"That can't happen, bastard!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure, dumbass. Breaking your nose only effects the bones, which rarely cut off your airway, much less create a nasal quality in your-"
"Brother, our train to Resembool leaves in ten minutes."
"Shit!"
Turning promptly on his heel, Ed reeled around to race to the door. However, his unusual lack of arms caused his weight to shift...downward. The green carpet rose at the speed of light.
"So I guess you do just faceplant."