Of Automail and Alchemy
by Lady Argon
A/N: Reviews are much appreciated!
1. The Beauties of Parenthood - Autumn, 1925
Edward sighed irritably as he heard the clanks of pots and pans grow louder and louder, floating into his bedroom from the kitchen, vibrating uncomfortably in his ears. He rolled over on the bed, opening one weary eye to his wife, whose were shut tight, frowning as she clutched her pillow.
"Winry," he whined.
"Ed," she shot back in the same tone, mockingly.
He huffed. "Get up and make the kids breakfast."
"I have work in a couple of hours, Ed. Two surgeries and three repairs. I need as much sleep as I can get," she murmured into her pillow, barely audible due to the raucous.
Ed opened his mouth to retort, but faltered. It was true, she needed rest. Her job was complicated and exhausting, and there Ed was, demanding even more from her than necessary. He shut his mouth and slowly sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
Before standing up, he looked at her from over his shoulder. "Fine, I'll handle them this time, even though it's supposed to be your turn."
Winry turned her head slightly so could he could see the small, grateful smile on her face. "Thank you, Ed."
He snapped his head forward and abruptly stood, his automail leg thudding noisily against the wooden floor, his cheeks blushing unwillingly.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered sheepishly.
As he stepped into the kitchen, all of the clanking and banging had suddenly come to a halt, his two children looking at him far too innocently, Urey frozen with his arm halfway to hitting the pot that was in between his legs and Trisha holding a ladle in one hand and a spatula in the other, wearing a strainer basket on her head as a hat.
Edward crossed his arms and glowered at his children, his voice deadly calm, despite his strong desire to swear and yell. "What is the meaning of this?"
Urey and Trisha shared a glance and gulped.
After a moment, the older sibling timidly spoke up. "We… we wanted to make you and Mommy breakfast."
Trisha nodded in agreement, fearfully.
Ed wasn't buying it. "Is that so? Where are the ingredients, then?"
It was Trisha's turn to respond. "Well, at first we were gonna make you and Mommy breakfast, but we couldn't reach any of the food, so we… we…" her bottom lip quivered and she rushed to her father, dropping the utensils, the strainer basket falling off her head with a crash. She wrapped her tiny arms around his legs as she reached him. "We're sorry, Daddy!"
Edward looked down at her in surprise before sighing and picking her up, holding her against his chest with one arm. He walked over to his son, squatting to meet his eye-level. "You're the older brother, Urey. You should know that playing with the cooking supplies and giving me and your Mommy headaches early in the morning is wrong."
Urey let his arm fall to his side, not meeting Ed's eyes. "Okay, Daddy. I'm sorry."
This time he looked at both of his children. "Good. Now, if this happens again, I won't be as forgiving as I am now. Got it?"
"Okay, Daddy," they said in unison.
Ed straightened, setting his daughter on the ground and stretching. "I'll clean this up; you two go sit at the table. Breakfast'll be ready in a bit."
They nodded. As they exited the kitchen, Urey whispered to Trisha, "Aw, but Daddy's food tastes like butt."
"What was that?" Ed asked sharply.
Urey looked back at his father, eyes wide.
"N-nothing, Daddy," he scurried away without another word, Trisha following after him hastily.
Ed bent down to clean up the mess, shaking his head. "Damn kids."
But he was smiling.