Sometimes Alphonse hated Winry. He hated her with a twisted, burning loathing that nobody suspected he was capable of.
Not even Ed.
And those times happened way too often. Usually at least once every time they met her. If they stayed with her for several days, though, they occurred way more than just once.
But they only lasted for a few minutes, and after those moments had passed, he would forget that they ever happened- or so he told himself. The truth was that every time those little moments came around, complete with bursting, bubbling hatred sweeping through him, he would recall every single past event as well with frighteningly clarity, down to the last, most minuscule detail.
"Idiot!" she would shout, and then a hard, heavy wrench would fly through the air and hit his beloved brother right on the head. Ed would fall down, screaming and yelling angrily even before he hit the floor. And Al would rush towards his side, only a horrified "Brother!" escaping his consciousness into audibility (for he didn't have lips that words could escape from), even though he really shouldn't have been surprised. He would help his big brother get up as carefully as he could with his too big hands, and would be grateful that his expressions could not be seen on his helmet; for it was about this time that he would notice the trail of blood dripping down from his brother's forehead.
Why did she always hurt him more? More, because when they visited her, it was usually due to Ed having ruined his automail in fights that left him with injuries, and severe ones at that. Winry would then scream at Ed, asking him why she always ruined her precious, precious automail, and why did he always get into fights, and why didn't he take care of himself?
Was she stupid? They (only Ed really) were in the military! People in the military tended to do dangerous things! And the way she would speak! As if a piece of machinery was more important than a person! More important than his brother!
His big brother, who had given up two limbs for his little brother. Edward, who had given up his future to devote all his time and energy for Al.
And what was worse, Winry would cry! Cry after she had calmed down enough to see that Ed was seriously hurt, cry because they didn't tell her what was going on.
Of course they didn't tell her! It was none of her business, just theirs. It was better this way at any rate; she would probably only cry harder if she knew the extent of what happened during their travels.
Edward hated when Winry cried. It tore at his brother's soul to cause others pain, and to Ed, those crystal droplets rolling down Winry's face were a sign of failure. Once again he failed at making sure his loved ones were safe.
Al could see Ed's thoughts even before they actually passed through his head: 'Great, another person whose life I'm screwing up.'
And Alphonse hated anyone that was capable of making his absolutely wonderful brother feel that way.
But what he hated most about Winry in those moments was that Edward didn't. Ed didn't hate Winry, because he really had no reason to.
…Because Edward cared about Winry.
Because even though Ed didn't know it himself, he loved Winry.
…And because Winry loved him just as much.
Because a (not so) tiny part of Alphonse was jealous.
Annoyed that his brother might care for someone just as much as he cared for Al.
And Al hated it. Hated that he was jealous. Hated that he could be so angry at something that made Ed happy.
Those treacherous, selfish moments would leave him feeling terribly guilty for a long time afterward. He would go off by himself while Winry looked at Ed's automail, berating himself for being so selfish while at the same time wishing he would stop pretending that he was perfectly happy and do something to intervene.
And even as he tried to look past his jealousy, Alphonse knew that he would never quite be able to succeed. Instead, he would keep his feelings buried deep down where no one could find them and continue lying every time he met with Winry.
The thought he was actually capable of living such a lie disgusted him.
And then sometimes, Alphonse Elric hated himself.
A/N: The idea of a jealous, somewhat possessive Alphonse completely fascinates me. I think I might end up writing more of it.
Just so you know, this really isn't supposed to be elricest.
Hope you enjoyed it!
