A/N: Um. I don't know. I suddenly had this dumb idea and churned this thing out yesterday afternoon.

Edward was deep in thought when the whispering started. He was only vaguely aware of it at first, snatches of conversation registering at the periphery of his attention. But gradually it got louder and louder, until he could hear every word.

"Where do you think he's from?"

"He's cute."

"Wow, I can't believe you just said that. Aren't you usually picky as hell?"

"I am not. I just tell it as it is."

"Well, go up and talk to him then."

"Why don't you?"

"I'm not the one who said he was cute."

"But you think he is too, don't you?"

"God, you two are hopeless. I'll go."

Edward groaned inwardly. He had lost his train of thought. All because of a bunch of gossiping girls. It amazed him that they were able to sustain such a pointless conversation with so much enthusiasm. There were millions, billions, whole universes of other things they could talk about that would be infinitely more worthwhile, but no – it had to be boys. He hoped the unfortunate passenger who had attracted their attention would hurry up and get off the train.

"Hello. Anyone sitting here?"

He started. A girl with dreadlocks sticking up at every angle was leaning over him, one arm resting on the back of his seat. She was probably about thirteen. "No," he said, taken aback. His eyes swept over the many empty seats nearby.

The girl sat down next to him, exuding an air of easy confidence. "So," she said, "where are you from?"

There was an outbreak of giggling from a few seats back. Edward frowned. "Down south," he replied evasively.

"Oh, really?" From her exaggerated astonishment, you could be forgiven for thinking 'down south' was an alien planet. "Do you come out west often?"

"Not really." He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. What did she want?

The giggling started to sound like noises of strangulation. A slow realisation was dawning on Edward, and he didn't like it one bit. He pushed the thought away as the girl leaned closer and smiled at him.

"That's a shame. I could show you around, you know, being a local and all. What's your name?"

"Edward. Edward Elric."

She gasped, and he had a feeling she wasn't faking it this time. He also had a feeling he knew why. Like a comical echo effect, dramatic gasps sounded from the girls behind them. "The Edward Elric? The Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"Yeah. Kind of. I mean, I used to be." He remembered a time when he'd taken great pleasure in flaunting his prestigious title, but now it was just awkward to explain.

There were hurried noises behind them, and a moment later two girls, one dark-haired and tall and gangly and the other small and blonde, had materialised beside their friend, craning their necks over the seat and goggling at him.

"No way," said the blonde, squinting suspiciously. "There's no way you can be him."

Okay, now this was just weird. First they'd said he was cute. That was ridiculous in and of itself. He couldn't count the number of times he had been called decidedly 'un-cute' and things like 'alchemy geek' by Winry. Everyone around him had always regarded him as a short-tempered, stubborn, baby-faced kid. Depending on how much they liked him, they sometimes added 'genius' as a modifier. But a diminutive kid in an awkward stage of growth, genius or not, was not considered worthy of romantic attention.

Then again, he supposed, that had been a few years ago.

And now this blonde girl was denying that his identity was his own. Okay. He had put up with enough.

"And what makes you say that?" he said in what he hoped was a mildly threatening voice.

The blonde just blinked wide eyes at him. "The Fullmetal Alchemist is really, really short."

Right. This girl had no idea what she had just gotten herself into. She had no idea what a former State Alchemist was capable of unleashing upon her. He stood up so abruptly that even the girl with the dreadlocks started back, and half-shouted, "People can grow, you know! You're certainly one to talk, you tiny little insect!"

The three girls looked at one another.

"I'm still not convinced," the brunette declared. "He's supposed to be really short. Like really short." She turned her eyes on him determinedly. "Show us your pocket watch."

Edward sat down and crossed his arms. "Um. The military disposed of it. After my brother transmuted it into a mini chamber pot with horns."

The girl with the dreadlocks looked triumphant. "So you are a fraud."

"No, I'm not!" said Edward indignantly.

"So where's your brother then?" asked the blonde. "The Elrics are supposed to be inseparable. Where's the giant suit of armour?"

"He's not armour anymore."

"Wow, you're a terrible fraud," the brunette observed.

"I already told you, I –"

"Show us some alchemy, then," the girl with dreadlocks interrupted eagerly, leaning across the seat again, her eyes glittering. "Go on."

"I –" Goddammit. As irritated as he was, Edward could see why they were so disinclined to believe him. The story of how he had pulled Alphonse's body out of the Portal was so bizarre that even he was incredulous at it having actually happened. "Look, you're only going to laugh, but a lot of things happened in that coup d'état two years ago, and due to various circumstances I lost my ability to do alchemy. Okay? By all means, continue to believe I'm a fraud."

The ardent sincerity of his tone, edged with annoyance, brought them up short. The girls stared at him, wearing identical perplexed expressions. "But," the brunette began after a pause, "you can't just suddenly stop having that ability." A hint of uncertainty had crept into her voice. "Can you?"

Edward sighed. He might as well give explaining a shot, no matter how ludicrous he sounded. "Not usually," he said impatiently. "If most people tried to sacrifice their own Portal of Truth, they would seal their only exit from that realm and be trapped in there forever. But . . . again, due to various circumstances my brother's Portal became connected to mine and we were able to get out together." He swallowed. He didn't like talking about that time. He remembered the crushing terror of never seeing Alphonse again, remembered some of the last words his father ever said to him, remembered how they had filled him with pain and anger and love, remembered how he couldn't stand the storm of whirling emotions inside him and let himself cry in front of everyone who had fought by his side. But it had felt good, somehow.

As he expected, the girls hadn't understood a word of what he'd just said. But something about how they were looking at him had changed.

"Okay, I don't think you're lying," the girl with dreadlocks said finally. "I don't think you could make that up. Whatever it meant."

"Hey, are you okay?" the blonde asked, peering down at him.

He must have let his thoughts show on his face. Alphonse always said he was absolutely rubbish at hiding his emotions, which Edward thought was unfair. Of course he was rubbish at it, compared to someone who had possessed an armour face with a fixed expression for four years! "Yeah," he said, shrugging.

The blonde squatted down and leaned her elbows on the edge of the seat. "You don't want to talk about it, right? I'm sorry. You must've been through a lot." She looked genuinely ashamed. The others murmured apologies too.

Edward huffed a laugh through his nose. These kids reminded him a bit of himself at their age, excitable and bumbling and bouncing with energy. "No big deal. My alchemy teacher had to spend a month on Mount Briggs during her training. At least Al and I got to do ours on a subtropical island."

The blonde looked fascinated. She was staring at him with her mouth open. She was also blushing. "Wow," she breathed. "I can't believe it. I can't believe you're actually him."

"Hey, Mr Fullmetal Alchemist," said the dreadlocked girl, her dark eyes serious, "do you have a girlfriend?"

The blonde squealed and the brunette slapped the dreadlocked girl hard on the arm. Edward flushed at the question, and then flushed darker at the realisation that he was getting so embarrassed because of a few thirteen-year-old girls.

The dreadlocked girl pushed the brunette, who toppled into the seat across the aisle with a shriek. The blonde had hidden her face in her hands, whimpering. "Well?" the dreadlocked girl prompted him.

"Uh," said Edward awkwardly. "Well, there's – there's someone waiting for me back home."

"Oh." She sat back and regarded him as if he was an angel descended from the heavens. Then she pressed on keenly. "What's she like? What does she do? Is she really pretty?"

"She's an automail mechanic," said Edward, choosing to answer the only question that wouldn't make him stammer and turn even redder.

At that, the blonde got up and traipsed back to her seat, dragging the brunette with her, all the while muttering things like, "It was hopeless all along!" and "We're not his type at all!"

The dreadlocked girl was thoughtful for a moment. "So you're into mechanics, huh." She sighed and went to join her friends. For the next few minutes there was a lot of whispering. Edward breathed a sigh of relief and managed to tune them out.

And then they were back.

"So where are you going, Mr Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"Are you going to Creta?"

"Wow, can we go with you?"

It was going to be a long ride.

I mean, Ed isn't canonically attractive, is he? Mei said as much lmao. But I like to think he suddenly got hot when he grew up haha

I can't believe I managed to make this angsty in the middle. It was just meant to poke fun at how people wouldn't believe Ed was Ed after the epilogue but then it veered off in a weird direction. I can never escape gah

Thanks for reading! :D

-TTC