.: Fullmetal Father :.
(Or, alternatively: A few words about the effect of socks on marital relationships)
This was already starting to get out of hand...
Why not put both socks in the basket of dirty laundry? Why was it necessary to throw them in there one by one... and over a period of two days? Earlier it seemed to Winry Elric that she knew her husband—her husband with whom she grew up and endured so many adventures—as a flaky kind of guy. But apparently, after two full years of marriage, she only now discovered his having some special kind of criminal tendency.
The woman flipped the toggle switch, turning off the washer's centrifuge and, seething with discontent, began to pull things into the basin. "Well, and there you have it. These two are generally the same shape," she muttered, wondering how well a blue sock could match with a brown one.
Edward Elric was serenely sitting on the living room floor, trying to make a chimera of two tasks at once: to babysit his child, and to scribble in the margins of his notes he'd made and brought from the West. But his firstborn, who had recently mastered the art of crawling, was in to mood to allow his father to properly concentrate on his alchemical studies. After all, the infant scientist was in a hurry to get to know the world around him by the method of trial and testing known as "the tooth."
After once again replacing a stub of a pencil clutched in the baby's hands with a rattle, Ed swept up all the sheets in a conditionally neat pile onto the coffee table and pulled the baby to him, raising his son above his head.
"Who's doing the distracting here, me or you?"
The child screeched piercingly and squirmed with delight when the smiling Edward shook him slightly by his outstretched arms high overhead.
"All right, bean sprout, why don't you let your father work?"
Of course, he received no answer from his son, but the rattle toy slipped from his hands and hit Ed directly on the forehead.
"Damn, now how's that for an answer..." Ed lowered his son to his knees and rubbed his bruised head. "Yes, that accuracy, apparently, you got from your mother. Well..." He smiled at the child, carefully studying his facial expression. "Shall we go for a walk?"
When Edward, holding a blanket in one hand, and clutching the baby to himself with the other, in barely laced boots, went out into the yard, he caught sight of Winry hanging his things on the clothesline.
"I thought you'd be working late in the workshop today," the young parent commented, spreading the coverlet in the shade of a tree and lowering the child onto it.
"I finished the order this morning," the girl answered coldly, sorting the next load of wash to distract herself.
Her rather harsh tone gave Ed goosebumps, and his gaze, according to a long-established habit, was checking if there were any forty-two combination wrenches nearby.
"So tell me, dear..."
Ed froze, convulsively going over in his head everything that could have caused Winry discontent. His wife might be unhappy with the fact that he, having read well into lunch, forgot to put the baby to nap on time. Or maybe she was still mad because he'd accidentally knocked over a jar of minuscule screws yesterday during a visit to the shop. Probably, after all, the matter lay in the railing on the porch, which he hadn't yet repaired, though he'd been promising to do so for a week now...
"Is it really so difficult," the woman continued, "to hand over your socks in pairs?"
"Pssht!" Edward scoffed. "And I thought something serious had happened."
"So this is not serious for you?"
"No, it's just... Simply..." Ed wanted to explain, but didn't have time to get a word in edgewise.
"Yeah, simple. Everything is simple with you. But I still want to know where the hell the pair to this sock might be!"
Winry took a wet brown sock from the basin and tossed it toward her husband. He, in complete bewilderment, caught it like a hot potato and divided his gaze between it and his wife. She stood proudly with her head raised, her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.
"Um, in general, I really wouldn't have a hard time handing in my socks in pairs."
Winry's eyebrow curved for the sky.
"But, the pair for this one"—Ed pointed to the sock he was still squeezing—"is on me right now."
"It is?"
"Well, since I've only got one leg, I wear socks one at a time," he replied, lifting the hems of his trousers. Indeed, the metal of his automail shone right back at them in the rays of the evening sun, while his right leg was hidden behind a layer of dark sock fabric.
"Ah..." was all the embarrassed girl could squeeze out of herself. After two full years of marriage, she only now discovered the effect of her husband's automail on his socks. "Sorry, I guess I jumped to conclusions there..."
Edward sighed, smiled apologetically, and, taking a clothespin, hung the sock on the clothesline.
"Oh hey, check out our little guy," Winry whispered to him, pointing to their son lying on the coverlet. "He fell asleep."
"Yeah," Edward said, leaning in to give his wife a peck on the cheek. "We should take him into the house."
The girl nodded and thought for a second. "Wait a minute..." She finally caught the thought floating in her head. "If you therefore go around with your automail barefoot all the time... How often do you maintain and clean it from dust and dirt?"
She turned to the entrance to their house, but her husband had already disappeared through the door.
"Now wait just a moment, buster! Ed, come back here!"
A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read my antics. As always, reviews are greatly treasured and are replied to. Or, if you'd prefer to comment or critique more privately, feel free to shoot me a PM. Cheers, + KVP