The Three Cardinal Virtues
As far as cities go, Besyr is plain as plain can be. It is in a plain area with average income and population; inside its unexciting-sized borders there is an equally unexciting town; in that town there is a typical hotel, in which there are a variety of devastatingly normal hotel rooms.
Today, however, one of these hotel rooms is not so normal. Actually, it isn't the room itself that has temporarily refused to be standard—it's what's inside it.
There are two beds in the room, each against opposite walls with a small table in between. There is a bathroom beside the entrance and a desk with one of those lamps that no one realizes was there until they've knocked one over.
But the normalcy stops there: in the chair by the desk is a teenage boy with a gaudy, flamboyantly red coat and long blond hair pulled back in a braid. He is carelessly twirling a military pocket watch, smiling as he talks to the other person in the room. The other person replies when the boy stops speaking but doesn't smile. Maybe he would have if he could, but he can't, because he is a suit of armor.
"I don't know, what are you going to do?" the boy asks. "After we get our bodies back, I mean?"
"I asked first," the armor tells him, and the boy sighs thoughtfully.
"I don't know," he says, "I think I'll probably have to grow a few inches… or feet. At least until I'm taller than the Colonel."
"That's not really what I meant, Brother."
"Alright, what are you going to do when we get our bodies back?"
The younger boy seems to think for a minute. "Well, first I'm going to thank you."
"Obviously," the elder grins.
"And then I'm going to do all the things I couldn't before…like touch and smell and taste…"
"We've got to do the other stuff you've been missing too, Al," he interjects. "Like eating and bathing and sleeping."
"And crying."
"And smiling," offers the blonde.
"This is starting to sound like a list," says Al.
The other boy pulls out a notebook and pen. "That's not a bad idea." He smiles at the armor and flips to a blank page. "Right…touching, smelling, eating, bathing, sleeping, crying, smiling…" Neither of them thinks the list is strange at all. "Anything else?"
"Make paper airplanes," Al says, rather abruptly.
The older one looks up. "Paper airplanes?"
"I've pretty much gotten used to my bulky hands, but I still can't get the folds in a paper airplane right."
He scribbles that down too. "Okay, paper airplanes. What else?" The two boys stare at each other for some time before Ed cries, "We'll go swimming!"
"Yeah!" Al says, his voice rising with excitement. "And we'll go to a store and try clothes on!"
"And we'll make chocolate chip cookie dough and lick the bowl!"
The armor's glowing eyes widen. "And we'll get haircuts!"
"We'll get paper cuts," the boy laughs, jotting everything down.
"We'll get cats!"
"NO CATS!"
"We'll get colds," Al amends, just slightly disappointed.
"We'll get totally, mind-numbingly drunk!" declares the older boy.
"We're underage," the younger one reminds. "We'll celebrate on milk."
The Fullmetal Alchemist wrinkles his nose in disgust. "I'll have the alcohol, thanks."
"We'll figure something out," Alphonse says in his 'compromising' tone.
"We'll figure out how to fly!" Ed laughs, a note of giddiness in his voice.
Al laughs too. "People can't fly, Brother."
"Who cares? I've always wanted to fly."
"We'll fall asleep reading like we used to," the armor says, his voice softer.
"We'll make a new house for us, if you want," Ed offers.
The armor's voice indicates a smile only Ed can see. "That would be nice."
"…But growing taller is still first priority!"
"I…don't think we can control that."
"Dominic said it was because I'm connected to your old body, right? We've been sharing energy—I bet you've just been hoarding all my growth spurts!" He puts his hand out as if he wants Al to pay up. "Give me back my tallness!"
"You're being unreasonable again!"
"How would you like it if everyone called you a bean?"
"They're just trying to get you angry—if only you didn't react like that…"
"Another thing to add to the list," Ed interrupts, ignoring him. "Punch all the people who called me short (or any variation of small) in the face."
"Brother!"
Ed grins wickedly. "Okay, maybe just the Colonel. Repeatedly."
"One of these days you're going to get arrested for attacking a superior and I'm not going to be there to bail you out," Al groans.
"Well, where will you be?"
"Doing all the other stuff on the list!"
There is a long moment of silence.
The older boy sighs. "I guess we can go swimming first."
"I'm proud of you, Brother."