Sunburn
"I'm not delicate!" Al groused when Pinako suggested he move back under the porch awning, to get out of the sun.
"You may not be." She picked up his arm, pressing her thumb into the soft skin of his forearm. The white pressure spot came back pink. "Your skin is. You're starting to burn."
With a huff, he obeyed, letting her help him up onto the porch, thinking that it was better than being in the hospital. Still, once Pinako left him there in the shade, Al investigated his skin with his fingers, hissing at the proof he'd gotten a burn. "Ed's gonna pitch a fit."
Nothing to be done about that, though, unless he wanted to roll his sleeves down and hide the burn. With a mental shrug, Al leaned his head back, watching as Pinako, Corporal Mustang and Captain Hawkeye continued working in the garden. It was a homey scene, he thought, and then, maybe uncharitably, that it would do the Corporal some good, the mindless work in the sun.
The squeal of the screen door opening alerted him, and Al glanced back, smiling at the sight of Winry coming through it with a tray laden with glasses of lemonade. Ed followed behind her, carrying a tray of sandwiches, one of them shoved in his mouth.
"Lunch," Winry sang out, balancing the tray to hand Al one of the glasses. "Come and get it before Ed eats everything!" She carried the lemonade to the garden to pass it out.
"Will not," Ed said, the words muffled with the bite of sandwich in his mouth. His eyes narrowed. "You've got a sunburn, Al!"
He ignored Ed. "How was your tuneup?"
Ed flushed, kicking Al's thigh lightly. "Shut up!"
Al gloated at his brother. He was so easy.