There wasn't much in the world that Ed loved more than a nice spring day.

He was in the middle of clearing a patch of prairie grass for Winry's vegetable garden. She'd gotten it in her head that she could garden, despite Ed's assurances that the only things she could avoid killing with her black thumb were rocks. He'd like the think the two dried and withered tomato plants drooping in their pots by the front door were proof enough of that.

After she explained to him just how wrong he was while making vaguely threatening motions with her wrench, Ed started to come around to the idea.

So, he was out in the coolness of early morning, digging large shovelfuls of grass and soil and tossing it to the side, enjoying the quietness of a Resembool day.

Then Winry screamed.

Ed dropped the shovel without thinking, vaulting over the porch steps in one leap.

He tore the door open, made a guess, then flew up the stairs, almost twisting his real ankle in his haste. His hands reflexively poised to clap as he shouldered open their bedroom door.

Fresh laundry looked like it had been thrown around the room by a tornado. Winry stood in the corner, a pillow clutched in front of her like a shield, her wide blue eyes transfixed on the wall over Ed's head.

Slowly, deliberately, Ed turned around to look over the door, ready to face—

A . . . moth?

Ed gritted his teeth.

"Winry." Ed spoke in careful, measured words, eyes glued on the fluttering creature. "Please tell me there is a homunculus in the closet."

"Ed—"

"Or Kimblee's ghost."

"Edward!"

"I'll accept the boogeyman."

"Ed, it jumped out of the drawer while I was putting the laundry away!" she hissed. "You know I hate those things!"

Ed pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he was annoyed to admit came from working with Mustang for far too long. He turned to face his wife. "Winry, I almost killed myself running up those stairs!"

She glared back at him. "They're fuzzy, dusty, and disgusting! And it scared me!"

"I thought you were in danger!"

"I was! It touched me!" she held out her hand like it was leprous.

"It's just a moth!"

"It's disgusting!" she repeated. "Just get rid of it!"

With a weary sigh, Ed turned back to his opponent. The white little beast flapped against the wall as futilely as Ed's attempts to reason with his wife. In one quick motion, he swiped it from the wall and headed to the window, its wings beating against his palm. As he passed by Winry with his captive, she held up the pillow and let out a little whimper.

"Win, how did you handle moths before we got married?" he asked, opening the window one-handed and letting the insect—bug?— go free.

"Shut it shut it shut it!"

With a groan, Ed slammed the glass shut.

Only then did Winry, one of the strongest and most capable women Ed knew, lower the pillow she'd been using as protection.

"There. I saved you," he said, wiping moth dust on the front of his work shirt.

"And who says chivalry is dead?" she asked, but the look of relief on her face belied any sarcasm.

Ed squinted at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed. "It just scared me."

"You had everything under control," Ed agreed, sitting down beside her.

She smiled. "Thanks for saving me." She put a hand on his, squeezing his knuckles.

"It's my job," he replied, turning his hand over so he could interlace his fingers with her slim ones.

She smiled. "My hero. How can I ever repay you?"

"I accept love." He thought a moment. "And pie."

"It's your lucky day," she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I've already got the apples sliced and ready to bake."

Ed perked up at that. "Then why are you up here doing laundry?!"

She rolled her eyes. "Because laundry needed folding."

"Pies needs making," he said, sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, scooping her into his lap, then standing up with his beautiful wife.

She shrieked and giggled. "What are you doing?!"

"We're going to go downstairs, make pie, and while it's baking, we're going to make out."

"Isn't Alphonse due back today?" she asked as Ed swept her from the room, taking the stairs carefully. Stairs were tricky when you couldn't feel your foot.

"Yep."

"So, we're going to make out where your poor little brother might accidentally walk in and see us?"

"A little emotional trauma never hurt anyone."

"You're going to scar Al for life."

"It's character building." He set her down on the kitchen island, then gently took the side of her jaw in his hand and pulled her forward to kiss him on the lips.

She pulled away all too soon and he frowned. "What about the pie?"

He sighed. "I really need you to focus right now."

He pressed his lips against hers again.

Things were just getting good when the kitchen door opened.

Ed and Winry froze, her lower lip still trapped between Ed's teeth.

Both opened their eyes, turning slowly to see Alphonse, dressed in a travel suit with a suitcase thrown over one shoulder and horror in his innocent eyes.

No one moved for a solid minute.

"I'm going back to Xing," Al announced numbly. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, the door falling shut behind him.

Ed gave Winry her lip back, straightening up slowly. "That was . . . fast."

She looked between the door and Ed. "Think he'll be okay?"

"Like I said," he began, helping her off the counter, "character building."

"Pie probably wouldn't hurt, either," Winry suggested.

Ed nodded sagely. "Good idea. You distract him with pie, and I'll go convince him that I was just giving you mouth-to-mouth."

"I don't think that's going to fly, Ed."

"Trust me," Ed insisted. "He's probably already blocked the whole thing from his mind. I think it's called 'selective amnesia' or something."

"If you say so." She didn't sound convinced, but turned to pull the diced apples from the refrigerator.

"Wait, one more," Ed said, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her back for one more kiss.

Then Ed released her, taking a steadying breath before striding into the living room to try to salvage whatever was left of his little brother's innocence.

I know it was supposed to be "butterfly," but the moth issue is weighing heavily on my soul right now (see below for story time and the inspiration for this one-shot).

This fic is done, whoooo!

Got a little spicy in that kitchen there for a minute xD Poor Alphonse :'D

So I wasn't sure that all these little one-shots were related, then, viola, they all became related somehow. Except that second one, which I guess could be loosely related?

I've never churned out this much material in such a short amount of time. Thank you so much you guys that have stuck with me for this little fic, and a special shoutout to those that have taken the time to review! I know it's not my usual line, but I had fun with it, regardless, and I hope you have too :)

Now, back to your (ir)regularly scheduled angst.

Drop a review if you have the time, and I'll see you over on SSB and DOA c:

God Bless,

-RainFlame

Story Time:

The moth battle is real right now.

Okay, so say what you will, I'm not one for killing bugs. I just feel bad about it, they're just living their bug life and just because they have the audacity to be in my house doesn't mean I want them dead, unless they've committed a crime punishable by death (like STINGING ME IN MY BED, but what's important is that I'm not bitter about that at all).

So I'm visiting my parents, and they have a moth infestation at the moment, and I don't mind them as long as they're not flying at my face, but the problem with moths is that THEY'RE ALWAYS FLYING AT MY FACE. I also have this fear of them attacking me in the night as I sleep, so when I was going to bed and I walk in my room and this moth starts trying to attack me for no good reason, and I didn't want to kill it, and I couldn't catch it and take it outside because the door would have SCREAMED when I opened it and woken up the whole house, so I turned the lights off and lured it from my room with my phone light.

It felt like one of those movies where they're trying to lure the monster out of the dark, and they can't see the monster, but they know it can see them.

As soon as it fluttered it's dusty moth butt out of my room, I booked it down the hall because it was after me.

All silently, because the rest of the fam was asleep in the living room.

And like the good sibling I am, I let it gently flutter into my lil' sister's room, because she made the poor decision to leave her lamp on in the middle of a moth infestation.

She should'a left the lamp off, is all I'm saying.