After the little episode at the coroner's office, Hohenhiem decided that he shouldn't bug Ed with any job openings he might stumble on for a while.
To his delight, however, a week after the incident, Ed had found another job opening. All by himself, too. Hohenhiem was proud of his son for being so mature and taking charge of such an adult endeavor.
It didn't even really bother him that Ed had found said job at a run down motorbike shop.
It didn't bother him at all.
Motorbikes were nice, technologically wonderful things, Hohenhiem reasoned. So long as people decided not to drive them loudly by his apartment in the wee hours in the morning.
Like they'd done before.
Quite a few times too…
He sighed and continued eating his bland dinner of poorly seasoned sausage and bitter coffee, trying to convince himself that motorbikes were nice things.
Just as he was lifting the coffee cup to his lips and mentally repeating mentally to himself for about the twentieth 'Motorbikes are not the bane to the existence of peaceful sleeping', Edward banged open the front door. For some reason, he looked like he was ready to rip off someone's head.
And then Hohenhiem spotted Edward's hair, set his cup down gently, and tried very hard not to laugh at his son.
"Edward, what happened to you?"
Edward's hair had somehow become a bird's nest of caught cogs, wires, bits of metal, and other, small motorbike parts.
Edward gave him one sour look, made his way to the single, ground floor bathroom and purposely slammed the door shut once he'd entered. There was a moment of silence before Hohenhiem got his answer.
"It got caught in one of those fucking motorized hell on wheels!"
There was another beat of silence before a cry of pure frustration came from the bathroom.
"I hate motorbikes!"
Hohenhiem finally smiled, chuckling to himself.
Now, at least he and Ed had something they could agree on one hundred percent.
-----------
I really liked writing this one…