Notes: Robby is not an OC. He's based on Roy Mustang's brother. I'm not sure of the name, but I think it's Robert. If someone knows better, please let me know.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Wish I did.
Alphonse crashed through the door and flung his coat over the rack by the fire to dry. He stoked up the fire and threw on another log. His friend sat at his desk, working on something.
"Vhat is for lunch?" Alphonse asked.
"Whatever you can dig out. I had leftover, nearly congealed soup," the man at the desk replied.
"You're a strange one, Robby," Alphonse said.
"I've been told. Why do you say that?" the tall blonde replied.
"I've seen your family. You're de exact opposite of dem. Dat and you're de only one I know who vould eat nearly congealed soup," Alphonse said.
"These calculations are wrong, you know," he said.
"Ja."
"You shouldn't send the Fuhrer bad plans. Or are you testing me again?" Robby asked.
"I'm testing you again," Alphonse said. "Must keep your skills sharp, ja? Vhen are ve moving to de capital?"
"Never, according to this," Robby Mustang mumbled over the rim of his coffee cup. "Says the Fuhrer likes us just where we are."
Alphonse sighed and sat on the couch. He was somewhat relieved. He really didn't want to be any closer to the Fuhrer or his minions. And he rather liked knowing that he could get to the fort easily.
"Still scared of the Fuhrer?" Robby asked.
"Ja. He is a scary person," Alphonse replied.
They lapsed into silence for a while. Alphonse was putting off going back to his drawing board. He didn't want to come up wit new, better, deadlier rockets. He hadn't studied to kill. He'd studied to find out what was past the sky.
There was a crack and a boom.
They looked at each other.
"Thunder storms?" Robby asked.
"At dis time of de year?" Alphonse asked.
They got up and raced for the door. Alphonse got there first and opened it.
There, on the snow covered ground, was a small heap of red fabric and blonde hair. He walked over and touched what appeared to be a shoulder. The heap groaned.
"Go make tea," Alphonse ordered, turning the young man over.
"We're out of tea," Robby pointed out.
"Den make coffee, something, I don't care!" Alphonse yelled.
Robby, cowed, dashed back into the house, leaving Alphonse alone with the young man.
Alphonse ran a hand over him and decided that he must still be alive. He rolled him over and laid his ear on the young man's chest, listening for a heartbeat. He found one and sat up.
When he was satisfied that he was alive and worth saving, rather than burying, he took him into the house and settled him on the couch. Robby had stoked up the fire and was pouring coffee into three cups.
The young man groaned again and shivered. Alphonse covered him with a blanket and sat down next to his feet.
"Who is it?" Robby asked, handing Alphonse a cup of coffee.
"How should I know? I have never seen him," Alphonse replied.
There was another groan and the small person opened his eyes… His gold eyes…
"Unh," it moaned. "Al?"