For my good buddy Christina as an on-time birthday present, since the real one's not gonna be there for a couple of weeks. Hope I was able to portray it the way you like. :shifty eyes:

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters and settings belong to Arakawa Hiromu and various television and publishing companies.

-----

"It's snowing," Al said. Ed guessed he was just trying to break the heavy, overwhelming silence. He didn't say, 'It's your birthday; buck up!' or 'Guess what I got you!' or even, 'What time is it?' He remarked instead on the snow and that it was noteworthy by proxy.

Ed peered around his brother and out the window, taking his nose out of his book for just a moment. "It is, isn't it."

It was a storm that inspired memories of Elysia's birth, which reminded him of Lieute – Brigadier General Hughes, which made him ponder death. Ed didn't want to think about death. So he grunted one last time and went back to his book, reading for pleasure for once instead of for research.

It had been Al's idea, of course. A fiction novel about a made-up alchemist who had crazy adventures and close scrapes with the law instead of a factual biography that Ed usually would have preferred. All wanted his brother to relax on his birthday this year, and upon hearing the pleading note in his voice, Ed had obliged with very little fuss. "We're going back to work tomorrow, though," he'd muttered. Al conceded to that, and there they were.

"I think it's pretty," Al murmured, holding a kitten against his large metal chest. It mewed loudly and tried to get away, tried to tell Al it was being held too tightly, its claws screeching on the metal. Al loosened his grip immediately, apologizing.

"You can't keep it, Al."

"I know."

"You promised. It's only 'cause the storm's so bad."

"He'll go back out when it's not so cold."

"Al, it'll go back out tomorrow."

Al stroked the kitten as softly as he could. "When it's not so cold outside," he whispered to it.

"Al!" Ed snapped his book shut, his finger serving as a placeholder. "Tomorrow, you said tomorrow!"

"Brother," Al responded, turning away from the window, "it'll still be cold out tomorrow."

Ed pursed his lips, eyeing his younger brother. "I should get these things from you in writing," he grumbled, hunching down in his seat and raising his book again.

Al was quiet for a moment, still petting the kitten, and turned back to the window.

"There's Mrs. Hughes and Elysia," he said. "I bet they're here to wish you happy birthday."

"Tell 'em I'm not here."

"Brother!"

"I want to finish this book today."

Al fixed a steely gaze on his brother, who simply snorted and appeared to hunker down even more. With a sigh, Al answered the door when the anticipated knock came.

Ed heard Al's stammering excuse to Gracia and her daughter, smiling a bit at how bad his brother was at lying, and almost laughed when Al shut the door, his body language broadcasting 'embarrassed.'

"She said you're supposed to eat this," Al held up a wrapped parcel that smelled suspiciously of apple pie, "all by yourself, and that you're too skinny." Ed snorted. "And Elysia made you this," a piece of colorful paper with what looked like stick figures and a large, garish heart, "and asked what you got her."

That gave Ed to pause. He hadn't gotten anything for the little girl…yet. "Remind me to shop for her, okay, Al?"

"Sure." Al put the pie and picture on the small counter and sat down with the kitten still in his hands, now cleaning itself. Its purring filled the empty air between them and added a warmth to the room that the six small candles didn't provide. Ed had to smile. It was turning out to be a decent birthday.

Another knock came to the door, loud, pushy, and unexpected. Al nearly unseated the cat when he jumped, startled, and he looked at Ed, who seemed to have heard nothing of the sort. Al heaved himself out of the chair, gently placed the kitten in it, and moved to the door.

Ed heard his brother open it and exclaim a greeting – "Colonel!" – and he was sitting bolt upright in an instant, book falling forgotten to the floor.

"I met Gracia on my way up here, who said the more infamous of the two of you was out running errands," he heard Mustang say. Well, damned if that smug bastard didn't sound amused. "If you could tell him something for me, I'd be grateful."

Al shifted his gaze almost unnoticeably to his brother for just a moment. "Uh, sure, Colonel, what – ack!"

Ed shoved his way in front of Al, trying – though not too hard – not to unbalance him. "What do you want, bastard colonel?"

"If that's the thanks I get for trudging through the snow for no apparent reason, then I'll just be on my way."

Feeling a touch of heat rise to his cheeks, Ed set his mouth in a thin line of disapproval. "Fine. What do you want, Mustang?"

"That's a little better," the colonel said quietly, leaning forward and staring him straight in the eye, "but it needs work, Fullmetal." Mustang leaned farther still until his face was beside Ed's, mouth against his ear. "Happy birthday, Edward."

Ed had the fleeting notion of Mustang's lips pressed against his, but before the shock ended and a slight tingle reached his fingertips, the impression was gone, and Mustang was striding back down the hall, hands in his pockets and whistling.

"Mustang!" Ed yelled, all but leaping out of the room. "Stop, you asshole!"

The colonel stopped and turned to look at him, one eyebrow slightly raised and a smirk firmly in place.

Ed flushed a little, stumbling over his words and averting his eyes. "You…you'd better have a real present for me tomorrow!"

Mustang's laughter followed him through the door. Al giggled; Ed threw a pillow at him and managed to hit the cat. He picked up his book but couldn't concentrate, thoughts straying to the next day, until he dozed off and dreamt of blizzards and blackbirds.