March 25th, 1983

"Stay away from my girlfriend you son-of-a-bitch!"

As pain exploded in his face, Ian Elric seriously regretted getting out of bed early that morning. "Damn it!" He staggered backwards, tasting blood. "I haven't touched your girlfriend, buddy." Ian put his hands up to protect his face as the guy took another swing at him. "Seriously!" Who was this guy anyway?

"Like I believe that," the other guy snorted. "She told me you kissed her."

Crap. Ian couldn't honestly be sure he hadn't, though he certainly hadn't done so knowingly. He'd only been out with a couple of girls since coming out to West City. He was shooting a recurring role on the new season of West City Cops, another one of Tanner's pet projects. "What's her name?"

"Like you don't know!"

Ian ducked another swing and managed to block this time, silently thanking Urey for showing him that one. "I'm not joking. Was she that crazy chick who threw herself at me last week?" It was a fleeting thought. One of his many adoring fans who had come up to him on the street and just about tackled him.

He didn't get an answer, at least not a coherent one, as the man's face turned purple and he came at Ian yet again.

A whistle blast between the buildings made the guy spin around. Then he frowned at Ian and took off running.

Ian was quite happy to let the studio lot security handle the guy. He must have jumped the gate or something to get in. Putting a tissue up to his nose, he grimaced at the amount of dark blood splotching it. He could feel his nose swelling. Tanner is going to kill me.

Ears still ringing slightly, and feeling like he'd rather just go home now, Ian walked the last few yards to the safety of the wardrobe and makeup trailer. His nose was throbbing worse. Shit, I think it's broken.

"Wow, you're up early this… what the hell happened to you?"

Ian blinked through the pain, and realized that the woman standing in front of him was Bonnie, the woman who did his makeup and wardrobe on about half the projects Tanner assigned him to. "Unnecessarily jealous boyfriend."

"Unnecessary? Really?" Bonnie looked skeptical, but she walked right up to him and got in his face. Then she winced. "Ooooh. I'm really going to have my work cut out for me today."

"Gee, thanks for your concern."

"You're welcome." She stepped away. "I'll see what I can do. Sit down."

The tone brooked no arguments, and Ian knew better than to argue with someone who could make him look stupid on set. A moment later she was back, holding a cloth wrapped around what proved to be ice. "Hold this to your nose."

Ian complied. "Thanks," he said, though it came out muffled.

Bonnie went back to the work he had interrupted, which looked to be some minor alterations to one of the costumes; this one a sexy black dress with sequins and a skirt flared for dancing that Ian knew would be worn by one of the supporting actresses later that day.

From the angle he was watching, he couldn't see much besides the pony-tail her light brown hair was in, though he noted now that it had reddish highlights, natural ones that played subtly under the light…. And a very nicely shaped behind. Then she stood and turned, and he took a moment to really look at her face. Something he hadn't actually paid much attention to before, though he couldn't say why. She had a very pretty face. Not a flashy face, or a starlet face, but pretty, with hazel eyes and a few freckles across the bridge of her fair-skinned face.

After a few minutes she came back over and reached out, plucking the ice away from his face, then picking up a cloth, dampening it, and began to swab away the dried blood.

"Owwww!"

"Don't be a baby." She kept working. "The bleeding's stopped, thankfully, but your nose is starting to look like a strawberry."

"That is not the look I'm going for in this scene."

"Well I should hope not." She set the bloodied cloth down, examining his nose closely.

Ian glanced down. How the hell did I miss those? His best guess –and he was a pretty good guesser- was he was looking at a set of double-Ds, though they were hardly blatant under a simple green t-shirt. That and jeans were what she wore this morning. He wasn't actually sure he had ever seen her in anything more fashionable. Not that they weren't quality jeans, but she never seemed to dress up.

"Stop staring at my cleavage."

He brought his eyes back up to her face as she came at him with concealer. "Why? You have a great body."

She looked unsettled. "Because it's none of your business."

"Sorry." He went quiet again, focusing on the eyes behind her bangs, which were slightly long and falling into her face. Out of years of practice he held still while she worked, very gently, on his nose. It still hurt like hell. So he focused on her. Hazel eyes were surprisingly pretty. Ian couldn't remember having ever looked into eyes quite the shade of hers before. "So," he tried again. "You want to go out sometime?"

Bonnie snorted. "I heard that one coming five miles away. No."

"Why not?" he asked, surprised by the venom in her reply.

She shrugged. "Because I don't date actors. Especially not party animals."

"You don't go to parties?"

"Not your kind of parties. That's not my scene."

And she worked in film and television. Ian had to admit, he was intrigued. "Why not?"

"Because I have half a brain?" Bonnie suggested. "No offense. But I don't drink, and I don't go in for deafen-you-by-thirty music, and I like having a good conversation over being pawed over by guys who are drunk, or high, who think they're all that."

Ian was surprised enough he almost forgot to be insulted. "Who says I'm like that?"

"You go to them don't you? You've got a new girl on every magazine cover, every premier, every time you turn around and blink. I'm not interested in being the pic-of-the-week, Ian."

She paused as she put down the concealer and reached for another pot. Ian winced, but held the ice there. "So why are you helping me out?"

Bonnie looked thoughtful as she started lightly dabbing something else on his nose. "Because you're not a jerk," she replied. "You don't abuse the crew. You respect the people you work with, and you've got an incredible gift for acting. Unlike some people, you really get into the role. I can feel the emotions in the room when you work. That… and I get more compliments out of you about my work than any other five crew members combined," she admitted with a small smile. Then she turned away and focused on the make-up.

Aha. Ian smiled. "So… you do like me."

"You're incorrigible," Bonnie sighed. "Don't smile or you'll ruin this make-up job."

"Sorry."

Bonnie kept working. "Yes," she admitted after a minute. "As a person I don't think you're half bad. I also don't think you're half as vain as you pretend to be most of the time."

"You could always find out."

"I'm going to hit you in the nose if you don't watch it."

Ian shut up and didn't say another word until she finished and held up a hand mirror. It really was an incredible job. Aside from the fact his nose still looked slightly larger than normal, there wasn't a sign of bleeding or bruising to be seen. "Wow. You're a genius."

Bonnie smiled smugly. "I like to think so. To be fair, it's not a bad canvas to work with."
"See, you do think I'm cute!"

The smile was replaced by a mildly disgusted shake of the head. "Do you really need to fish for compliments, with thousands of girls swooning all over you?"
"Maybe I'm insecure."

"Or maybe you're just messing with me." Bonnie turned away and walked towards the wardrobe rack.

"Or maybe I think you're a good looking woman whose company I'm enjoying."

"And it's driving you nuts that I don't fall all over you." Bonnie tossed the jacket of his costume at him. "Get on set before you're late."
"Have dinner with me tonight."

"No."

"Tomorrow?"

"Go! Or Tanner will be pissed." Bonnie glared at him. "I mean it. I've got plenty of work to do."

"All right, all right." Ian stood up and went to finish getting dressed. "I don't want to irritate my savior. Thanks, Bonnie. I owe you."

"Then go!"

"So the doctor looked at it and thankfully it's not broken," Ian's voice came across Ed's phone line.

"Well that's good," Ed replied. "Though wouldn't it just be better to avoid getting punched in the first place?"

"How often did you try and get punched in the face, Grandpa?" Ian asked with a heavily sardonic tone.

"When I was your age? Well, Al would tell you I was trying on a regular basis," Ed snickered. "But I get the point. At least it'll mend."

"It will. But I wish Uncle Ethan and Aunt Ren were out here right now. I'm told there's one doctor here with alchemical ability, but he's booked for the next two weeks. By then I won't need him."

Ed felt a mix of sympathy and amusement at Ian's plight, mostly because he remembered the time Urey had punched Ian in the face over a girl the night before a performance. Ed had been kind enough to do something about it. Thankfully the damage had been minor enough that his limited healing ability had been enough. "I hope you thanked that wardrobe girl properly," he commented.

"I tried, but she won't let me." Ian sounded honestly exasperated. "She didn't want to go out for dinner, and when I thanked her she almost threw me out the door."

Smart girl. "So should we start planning the wedding?"

"Not funny, Grandpa."

"Have you at least figured out which girl that guy was mad about?" Ed took a step back away from the subject.

"Honestly, I think it must have been the crazy girl from the promotional," Ian replied with a sigh. "The guy was definitely local, and I don't have any girls in West City."

"Don't worry, I won't tell the gossip magazines."

"That's very reassuring." Ian got quiet for a moment. "How's Urey?"

"About as usual," Ed admitted, which wasn't saying much of late. Urey had gone back to working on the dairy farm, but his days were rather routine. Get up, eat breakfast, go to work, break for lunch, work till dinner. Dinner, and then most nights he vanished into the room he was still staying in at their house. Sometimes he'd go out at night, but never with anyone as far as anyone in the family could tell. Usually he took walks around the countryside, or stopped by one of the local establishments for a drink. Then he'd come home. The vast majority of his free time was spent, unsurprisingly, with his nose buried in a book.
Rarely, very rarely, did he actually take the initiative to go over and spend time with Yurian.

"Is he home?" Ian asked.

"Not yet," Ed shook his head regretfully. "It's Friday." Which meant his first clue that Urey was home would be whenever he crawled out of bed on Saturday morning…sometimes Saturday afternoon.

"Well, tell him to get off his ass and call his brother," Ian replied. "I gotta go. Meeting someone for dinner."

"A girl?" Ed asked, perhaps cruelly.

"Yeah, actually. Sciezka Falman. She and her husband said I was welcome for dinner."

"Great!" Ed grinned. "Give them our best, from Winry and me." Winry would kill him if he forgot. "And tell Falman he still owes me for when I beat him at Trivialities, and I want a rematch."

"Sure thing, Grandpa. Take care."

"You too. Sounds like you're the one who needs it."

"So did I hear half of that right?" Winry asked when Ed hung up the phone. "Ian got punched in the face?"

"Again." Ed nodded and shrugged. "Frankly I'm a surprised this hasn't happened more before now. Every girl between the ages of twelve and sixty –and possibly older- thinks he's the hottest guy on the continent."

"Jealous?" Winry asked with a grin as she came up and hugged him.

Ed put his arm around her shoulders. "Nope. Not a bit. I've got the only woman whose opinion matters."

"Glad to hear it." She kissed his cheek. "Because my current opinion is that you're amazing at helping fold the laundry."

"Sneaky." Ed kissed her back, and gave her an extra tight squeeze. "But you're right."

April 2nd, 1983

Catching Bonnie when she wasn't working proved to be nearly impossible. She was always working, or if not, he couldn't seem to make his end of the day sync up with hers. So Ian resorted to coming in early the following Tuesday. A lot of what she had said had him curious.

"So, why don't you date actors?" Ian asked when they were alone in wardrobe and she was once more working magic on his face. Though after the weekend the swelling had gone down and the bruising was starting to fade. Right now it was magnificent shades of mottled brown, yellow, and purple.

"You're persistent, aren't you?" Bonnie asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

"I'm told it's one of my better qualities."

"Well it's not just you, or actors," she admitted as she brushed powder over his face. "It's all you show-off performers. Musicians especially." She frowned, but Ian couldn't tell if she was upset or just really focused.

"Who was he?" he asked in a moment of clarity.

Bonnie blinked, and looked so startled she almost dropped the brush. Then she gathered herself, and shrugged. "Ex-boyfriends. Plural. First one wanted to go out every night. There was always someplace to be, some party to be at. Didn't take me long to find out there was someone to be with at every one of those parties to…and not usually the same girl."

"And the second?"

"Musician. Seemed nice enough when we met. He wasn't quite the party animal." Bonnie finished her work and stepped back. "He turned out to be an abusive drug addict."

Ian winced. "Wow."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not opposed to socializing, but the whole scene is just not me. I'm here for my art. I don't put up with cheaters. I refuse to compete with drama queens, and I don't drink. So what's the point? I don't like most of the people who go to those parties, at least not when they're there."

"I… see your point." Ian couldn't find anything to argue against there. It wasn't like he wanted to defend half the parties he had been to either. He was usually the tame one in comparison to some of the others. "You don't drink?"

"Because of my dad," she replied, turning her back on him as she straightened up her work station and prepared for the next actor. "He had… issues, when he got out of the military. He's a lot better now, but we don't drink at home, and I don't like how it tastes anyway."

"Sounds like a lot of my family," Ian admitted. "Only it's out of respect for my grandpa. I don't remember it. Most of it was before I was born, but he's still careful." He shrugged and smiled. "My family's idea of a good time is a humongous cookout."

That got a smile out of Bonnie. "Those are nice," she agreed. "You have a pretty big family don't you?"
Ian snickered. "That's putting it mildly. I have four brothers and a sister. Most of my brothers are already married, have kids. And my Dad is…was… one of three. My Uncle Ethan's got three kids, and Aunt Sara had two." His smile slipped as his throat tightened momentarily.

There was a momentary flicker of sympathy in Bonnie's eyes. "I was sorry to hear about your Aunt. I guess you were pretty close."

"I lived with her until I got my place in Central," Ian nodded. "So for most of high school. Most of my family's a pretty close bunch actually, despite how many of us there are. I haven't even gotten into my cousins on Grandpa's brother's side, or my growing number of nieces and nephews."

Bonnie chuckled softly. "Holidays must be crazy."

"That's what I like about them," Ian admitted. "Though things were a little strange this year, without Sara." He glanced at the clock. "I should get going or I'll be late for rehearsal. Thanks."

"No problem," she replied. "It's my job."

"Not just for fixing my face," Ian replied honestly as he stood up and looked her in the eyes. "For listening. I'm really sorry if I offended you earlier. I wasn't trying to."

"It's all right, I figured that out." She shrugged. "Though I do appreciate the apology. If it helps, I don't hate you."

Ian couldn't help a grin. "I figured that out."

For a moment Bonnie looked like she might hit him, but instead, she shook her head. "Your family must really love you."

"Yeah, they do," Ian replied. "Though that's one place where I'm nowhere near interesting enough to be the life of the party."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's the truth." Ian crossed his heart with his finger. "You can ask them yourself sometime."

Bonnie arched an eyebrow. "If I ever see one of them, maybe I will."