Sorry if they tend to act more mature than their ages. I'm not too good at writing children and I'm scarcely around kids, so I don't exactly know how they act. Then again I could say they're very intelligent for their age since they can comprehend alchemy and such (I know I'd be lost at the first sentence). I also want to thank those who have reviewed, and to those who are reading this, because you put a smile on my face.

.Twenty One.

"I know you're embarrassed but you really should have the tube around you when you go out in the water," Trisha says with a sigh.

"But why?" protests Alphonse. He looks to his brother who has only tubes around his upper arms (and he's very proud of it, it seems, since there's a haughty look on his face). "Momma, I wanna' swim, not float."

"You don't know how to swim," she reminds him. "And you know that Edward just got the hang of it. He can't drag you to the shore and I can't swim very well myself, so if you do drown we can't do much."

Alphonse's grip tightens on the bright green tube that has a snake head pointing out from the front. He finally gives up and follows his brother to the shore and, after making the painful moves over the rocks at the front, they start to swim.

Well, not so much swim as flailing about in the water. Edward seems overeager to prove that he can swim and is causing miniature tidal waves in Al's direction, causing his little brother to propel a few feet away. The six year old decides to float closer to the shore.

Their mother is watching from the shore over the top of her book. They are virtually the only family on the beach (which is really only a small lake that goes about five feet deep surrounded by some sand, with ducks sometimes making their way across the water), save for an old married couple enjoying the summer day. But it is a big decision to decide to pack up and have a fun-filled day at this beach. Trisha wishes she could teach Al to swim, since Edward learned from a friend at school, but alas Al and water have never seemed to get along very well. He's always flopping around the in bathtub blindly and has never been out in the lake for more than five minutes.

"Brother, do you want to make a sandcastle?" Al asks, turning back around from inspecting a shell underneath the water. Except he doesn't see his brother there: only his arm-floats remain.

"Edward! Put those back on!" Trisha demands.

"Where did he go? Where did he go?" Al has played this game before and the panicked tone in his voice is not undeserved. His brother has always gone underwater and paddled his way to Al and dragged him underwater.

"Come back, Al, and drag your brother with you if you can," advises their mother. She's clad in her one piece swimming suit and is starting into the water, hissing everytime she steps on a particularly sharp rock.

It appears she has come too late when Al yelps "Eeee!" and is dragged underwater. His movements are slowed in the water and he can see his brother, who is plugging his nose and has a humored look on his face. With his movements so slow his slap is really slowed down to a light tap on the shoulder. Of course Edward has to hold his brother to keep him under since his tube is fighting to pull him up. They're only beneath water for about five seconds until Edward lets go. He's not so cruel as to keep him from breathing -- he's just teasing.

The next thing Ed knows his mother is pulling him out of the water with an annoyed look. "Ed, you really shouldn't do that," she reprimands him. She pulls over the discarded arm-floaties and makes him put them back on. "You know it scares your poor brother."

"I don' like water no more! I'm gonna make a sandcastle!" declares Al and runs as fast as he can to the sand. It's better to run over the rocks so you can't feel them.

"I was only joking," Edward mumbles. "Don't he know that?"

"Well go say you're sorry and help him with the sandcastle," Trisha suggests, giving him a gentle ruffling of his wet hair.

Edward makes him way over to his younger brother and sits across from him. He can tell Al is trying to avoid looking at him. His snake-tube is sitting beside him and he's loading sand into his bucket.

"Can I help?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Cause I-"

"No," he reiterates, slamming his bucket upside down and sliding it up quickly, only for the sand to become loose and fall apart.

"Here." Edward takes ahold of the bucket and fills it up, using his hand since Al is clutching onto the shovel. He packs it in tight with his hands and then slides it slowly. When it doesn't fall apart he says, "There. And, well, sorry."

"It's okay," Al says quietly. "Still wanna help?"

"If you want me to."

Trisha takes her place with her book, not even bothering to spy above it since she knows they're going to get along fine as long water stays far away from them.

.Twenty Two.

Recess contains fun times and friends giggling in large groups. Except today someone has decided to stand up for his friend and now there is most of the school's children surrounding the bully, Alphonse, and Winry, the original victim.

"You don't hit girls!"

"She called me an idiot!" The nine year old points at Winry, who is rubbing a bruise on her forehead from the rock chucked at her. Tears are in her eyes but she doesn't look pitiful, she looks very angry. It's true she called him an idiot but it's only because he pulled on her hair.

"I don't care," says Al bravely. He's holding his arms out in a protective stance in front of Winry. "You can't hit girls. It's just wrong. Now go away and leave her alone!"

"Well I don't care either. She deserved it. And don't you go ratting me out you little jerk or I will hurt you!" He grabs Alphonse by the front of his shirt and throws him to the ground in front of his friend.

"You're not just an idiot, you're a moron!" Winry snaps, her hand clinging onto her friend's forearm.

There's a moment of silence that is interpreted as the calm before the storm. Out of nowhere Edward hits the bully harshly on the back of the head, successfully knocking him into the grass.

"You don't hit my friends, specially a girl, and you don't hurt my little brother. I guess you never learned that either, huh?"

.Twenty Three.

"Brother?"

"What?" He groans, half-asleep in his bed.

"Do you think dad misses us?"

Great, another one of Al's late night musings. "How should I know?" He says curtly, turning over to his side to face away from Al and hoping he gets the hint.

"Well if I had kids I'd miss 'em," he states sadly.

"If you don't abandon them I'm sure you'll do fine," Ed snaps with more bitterness in his voice than intended. He quickly amends himself with, "But I know you won't do that."

"No, never."

Figuring that if Al can bother him in the middle of the night, he can atleast make a joke at Al's expense.

"Hmm . . . I wonder what you and Winry's kids will look like?"

"Brother!" He whines. He's always teasing him about his silly little crush at the weirdest of times.

Ha ha. Mission accomplished. "I'm going to bed Al."

"G'night, brother." A pause. "Don't have too many dreams about Winry."

It turns out Al also likes to tease his brother about his childhood crush.

.Twenty Four.

Seven year old Alphonse will never eat snow without first looking at it. He has made this mistake, scooping up some while talking to his brother, and then a horrible taste attacks his taste buds. His eyes widen and he glances where his hand had gathered this from; yellow snow, and he knows exactly what this means.

From his brother's mistake Edward also learns this but, of course, after chuckling at the misfortune.

"You shouldn't laugh, brother! Yuck!" Al says, spitting it out. He uses the glove he hadn't picked up the yellow snow with to scrape his tongue.

"Sorry but your face," laughs Edward. "You looked fine and then you looked like you were gonna hurl."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Like what? 'Watch out! You're about to eat pee!'," Edward quips and this awards a glare from his younger brother. "No, really Al, I didn't know. I woulda' said something if I had seen it. Even I'm not that mean. And you know if it was me who at it you would be laughing too."

"Yuck, yuck," he mutters as he heads towards the house to brush his teeth several times over.

Later he makes his brother swear he will never repeat this to anyone or never speak it out loud where someone can over hear. Then Al swears to himself to check every inch of snow he eats in the future so this incident never repeats itself.

.Twenty Five.

"Oh aren't you two just adorable?" Trisha says, a large smile on her face.

"Can'y! Can'y!" says Al. The six year old holds out his pumpkin bucket from underneath his cape. As he talks his fake vampire teeth fall to the floor.

Trisha picks it up quickly and washes it before letting him place it back in his mouth. She turns to Edward who has an identical pumpkin bucket but is a wizard, a large pointed hat with stars and moons on it. It's almost too big for his head and keeps slipping over his eyes. He pushes it up with his wand, which is a stick whittled down to thin and straight, then painted over black with a white tip.

"Are you boys ready for school?"

Both nod vigorously. They are eager to collect candy from their teacher and for the hunt, where atleast fifty caramel apples are sitting in the playground wrapped in cellophane for freshness. It'll start at eight thirty and they have about ten minutes to get there.

On their way there they meet up with Winry who is a witch. There's green paint on her face and she carries a small broom, threatening Edward with it when he says wizards are better than witches. They tease and play on their way there, and when they arrive at the school Trisha gives them each the large chocolate chip cookie she promised them the day before.

"I'll pick you up when school ends," says Trisha before she leaves. "Have fun and play fair."

"I can't wait! I'm gonna'get tons of apples!" Edward says as they gather in the classroom.

"Ipth gonna gef some too," Al agrees. His vampire teeth get in the way of him speaking properly so Winry and Ed just nod to whatever he says.

It's not a large school so most of the five, six, and seven year old's are taught by two teachers in one classroom, each age awarded the proper work for their age. It's this group that's going to go first on the candy hunt since the older kids would most likely trample them.

The sixteen children gather in a straight line in the back of the school. Ms. Wyatt and Mr. Umbar tell them the rules: only three apples each (the extra two go to the teachers), no stealing, no pushing, and absolutely no fighting. Breaking any of these rules will get their candy taken away. With this said, and the children bouncing where they stand, they send them off in a stampede of bobbing heads and declarations of "I'm gonna' get the first!"

Alphonse goes for the obvious ones. There's one lodged in the chain of the swing. He grabs it by the stick and proudly puts it in his bucket. He looks around to see if Edward is nearby and he sees his older brother arguing with Winry. He overhears Winry say, "I don't want it if it's got sand on it! You can have that one!"

It doesn't take long for him to return his attention back to his task. He walks about two steps and then notices his bucket is oddly light.

"Who fook my apfle?" says Al loudly. He's not sure if anyone will admit to it but it's worth a try. Sadly, no one pays attention, and he's back to scouring around the playground for more caramel apples.

He's found another at the base of the oak tree and puts it in his bucket. This time he's not letting it go; he keeps a firm grip on the stick and starts to walk away. He didn't truly expect for the thief to pop up a second time but, as he looks up in the monkey bars for any apples taped to the bars, he feels a tug.

"Hey!" He snaps and moves back, still clutching the apple. The girl, dressed as a ghost in a sheet with two eye-holes, is adamant and gives one final tug on the apple itself. It flies off into the sand where it looks rather unappetizing. "Why foo do t'at?"

"You shouldn't look away from your bucket," she advises quickly and goes off to search for more apples.

Downtrodden Alphonse sulks on the swings, given up on hunting for any more apples. Why do it when someone is just going to take them?

"Al?"

He looks up to Ed who holds out one of his apples. "Got it from that jerk," he says, looking to the ghost kid who is crying and being comforted by Ms. Wyatt.

Al takes his vampire teeth out and points out, "But you won't get no more, brother."

"Don't matter," he says and shrugs it off. He smiles up at Mr. Umbar who looks very displeased and says innocently, "I never like caramel apples anyway."

.Twenty Six.

"Achoo!"

Al hands his brother another tissue. "Do you want some soup, brother?" He asks worriedly. "I already made mom some so there's some left."

"Yeah, sounds good."

The eight year old resigns himself to the kitchen and heats up some more soup for his brother. He's the only one in the small family who isn't down with a cold. He's trying to be careful about it and handles every bag containing used tissues with gloves on and always covers his mouth when around his brother or mother. Since his brother caught a cold this morning he realizes he is susceptible to infection very easily.

It doesn't take long before the tomato soup heats on the small gas stove. He lets it cool down some before taking it to Edward, who is extremely grateful that his little brother has some sort of culinary ability.

After Edward is done Al picks up the bowl with his gloves on. Ed huffs, "I don't have a disease, Al. I just have a cold."

The younger Elric raises an eyebrow. "Yeaaah. I know that, brother. I'm just trying to be careful is all. I mean, if I get sick, who's going to take care of you and Mom?"

"Oh. Yeah." Edward has almost forgotten that there's only one family member left walking. He would say Winry and Aunt Pinako could come help but they have just gotten over some nasty colds themselves. They won't want to become sick again. "How is Mom anyway?"

"She's okay, I guess," says Al, sitting back down in the chair and sets the empty bowl on the desk by the bed. He looks down at the floor with his forehead creased in thought. He chews on his bottom lip and for a moment looks as though he's going to say something but he stops before he utters a syllable.

Edward is put off by Al's timidity. He usually asks questions without restrain . . . unless it's something really touchy.

"Al, what is it?"

"Well, um, does Mom seems to be getting sicker to you?" He asks nervously. "She's not as healthy as she used to be and she was the first one to get sick and has been sicker longer than anyone. Colds don't usually last for a week . . . "

"She'll be fine," says Edward sternly. "She's strong. She's not going to be beat by some cold."

"But--"

"Al you worry too much. She's been taking care of us for a long time, I think she's prolly gonna get tired and worn down sometimes," Edward interrupts with a tone that tells his brother this is the end of the discussion.

Al knows Edward only gets so defensive when he worries but doesn't mention it. After all, he is probably right (or perhaps he's only hoping he's right). Maybe their mom will feel better tomorrow, or the day after. She can't stay sick with a cold forever.

What if it gets worse? he thinks as he makes his way to the kitchen with the bowl. As he starts to wash it he pushes the thought away. No, she'll be okay. She has to be.

.Twenty Seven.

As a three year old the most exciting thing is watching bubbles. Edward could watch them for hours as his mother blows them. They disappear too quickly for him to catch one and he childishly wonders where they go.

Alphonse sits next to him and looks angered every time he catches one in his pudgy hands and it pops.

"Boobles bad," Al grunts.

"Bubbles honey," Trisha corrects him, a smile on her face.

"I wan' more bubbles!" Edward says with wonder in his golden eyes. This time he has a fierce determination to catch one. He reaches out to one right in front of his face. His hands move very slowly as though the bubble will attempt escape if it knows he's sneaking up on it.

It's too late though. Al has gone for the gold and smacks it out of the air, his hand landing firmly on Edward's face when he goes full swing.

"Aaaah!" Edward cries and pushes his little brothers arm away. He grabs his stinging nose with a chant of, "Ow, ow!"

The mother knows exactly what will take his mind off of the smart of the smack. She blows more bubbles and soon enough Edward's attention turns away from his nose. He watches as they go up into the air and become carried away by the breeze. He's not sure why they are so mesmerizing to him, and a three year old hardly cares why, but it puts a grin on his face that even his brother hasty smacks can't wash away.

.Twenty Eight.

"I hate the rain," mumbles Edward and he rubs his eyes. He holds his small umbrella over his head so the droplets are deflected.

Al has his own umbrella and nods in agreement. "I like watching it though," he says.

"From inside," Ed adds. "We should have waited at school until it stop--"

If only to make his day worse Edward, who hasn't been watching where he's going, has stepped in a deep mud puddle and slipped. His umbrella wrenches away from his hand as gravity wins again and he lands face first into the mud/filth/muck.

"Ah, brother! Are you okay?"

He eight year old lets out a curse ("Brother, you shouldn't say that!") and tries to stand up, slips, ultimately landing into the dirt for a second time. Al has to admit that the frustrated look his brother has on his face that mixes in with the dirt is pretty funny. Despite his own amusement Al helps his brother up.

"Eeewww." Al wipes the dirt on his hand off on his brother's soiled rain coat.

"Hey! What are ya doing!"

"Well you're already dirty so I thought--"

Edward gathers up a clump of dirt from his forehead and smears it on Al's rain coat. He jumps back before Al can retaliate by picking up fresh mud to slather on his brother.

"You'll have to catch me!" Edward teases. He runs picking up his umbrella on the way. He looks over his shoulder to view his little brother's progress and taunt him. This is when he falls (again) into the dirt, tripping over a rock.

This time the younger Elric doesn't hold back his laughter. "Hahaha! You should watch out, brother, geesh!"

"The world hates me," he claims glumly as he picks himself up once again.

It's the only solution he can come up with as to why he's had such bad luck today. It's either that or admit that he is foolish in not watching where he was going, but this is never going to happen. He'd rather eat dirt; which has happened and he has to spit it out. With this in mind he decides that if he's going to fall he should do it with his mouth closed.

.Twenty Nine.

"Mom, mom, I got taller than Al!"

Trisha sighs at her sighs at her young boy. She knows Edward is always trying to proclaim that he's taller than he is. He wants to be taller than Al since he is older but with them being only a year apart it isn't likely their height is going to differ by much. Perhaps Ed will have a growth spurt in his teens and be taller for a little while but Al isn't close behind.

"Measure," says Edward as he stands in the living room's left corner. The seven year old stands as high as he can without standing on his tip-toes. He puts his back up against the wall where markings in pen are, marking how tall each of them is.

Needless to say there are many more marks from Edward than Al. Ed has become too preoccupied with his height.

Trisha isn't sure if she should spare him or if she should tell him the truth. As she looks at the measurements he hasn't grown within the last month. Not that she expected him too. Edward's expectations are always higher than they should be.

"You're still the same, Ed," she says gently. "But you'll grow when you're older."

Edward swings around to look at the wall and uses his hand to see if the line from the top of his head and the one of the wall match. They do and this causes disappointment, as always.

"Measure Al," he says defiantly.

"Ed-"

"Al! Come here!" He shouts to his brother who is currently in the kitchen with his pudding. How tall each of them is hardly holds his interest.

"Comin'!" Al hurriedly scoops up his pudding then shoves it in his mouth. He licks the spoon clean before hurrying to the front room to see what's going on. From his brother's expression he can tell he hasn't grown any taller. "Brother, you gotta wait 'til you grow."

"Your brother wants to see if you've grown either," Trisha says. "It'll make him feel better when he see's you're exactly the same."

"Nu-uh," Edward says under his breath so no one can hear him.

Obediently he stands up against the wall and waits patiently as Trisha looks. Edward looks on also with wide, curious golden eyes.

"Uh-oh," she breathes.

"What?" Both brothers echo at the same time, turning to see what their mother's surprise is about.

"It's not much but, well Al, you've grown about a centimeter. It's nothing to be upset over Ed," she quickly says to him. "It's just a centimeter."

Edward glares at his brother as though he evilly makes potions in the middle of the night just to grow taller than his brother.

"It's just a centipede brother," says Al. Then a look appears in his eyes as though something disturbing has entered his mind. "A centipede?"

She knows that this can grow out of hand so she tries to amend his mistake. "Not a centipede, a centi-"

"Pede. You said centipede!" accuses Al. He quickly gropes his head in a desperate search for his accursed bug. "Where's it at? Where'd it go?"

"It's on your head, I see it!" Edward says, egging him on even though it's clear enough he's mixed something up along the way. "I'll get it!"

"Edward please-"

Edward karate chops the top of Al's head with a declaration of, "Take that, centipede!"

Al grits his teeth and rubs his sore head. "Owww," he groans. "No more growin' centipedes, momma, I don't like 'em."

.Thirty.

"You got detention brother? But why?" cries Alphonse. He sits down in the desk next to him and tries to think through out the day - they have the same teachers so it's not as though anything Ed has done will go unnoticed in the small classroom. He hasn't seen his brother act out or yell or pick a fight all day in class.

"It was at recess," says Ed as if he can read Al's mind. He scuffs the floor with his boots and mumbles, "It was stupid."

"Brother . . . " he says in his most concerned tone.

Giving in he says, "I got mad is all, 'n that's when I kicked dirt in Sam's face."

Protectiveness surges within Al. It seems that his brother has more people that didn't like him since he was rather outspoken. He's always asking his brother to stop it but Edward often shrugs it off.

"What'd he do?"

Edward doesn't make eye contact with his brother as he says, "He, um, well . . . he said that if I didn't like Winry that I'm queer."

"Queer?" Al echoes. He tries to go through his eight year old knowledge of words but he's not quite sure what 'queer' is.

"Queer is me liking other boys, Al," he says after a couple of minutes.

"Wait, what? No, you like Winry though . . . right?"

"I used to! I mean, I don't have a crush on her no more, but she's still pretty," Edward snaps back. It's much harsher than he wanted and it makes an apologetic look come on his brother's face. "Sorry, Al. Just that if I said I liked Winry than he'd to tell her, and when I kept saying I didn't he called me queer."

"He's just a jerk!" Al says loudly. "You shoulda ignored him."

The older boy rolls his eyes. "Yeah cause that always works."

"You could let Winry know that you used to like her. It's not that she'd laugh or nothing."

"Do you want her knowing that you like her?"

"That's different! She don't like me, she likes you."

"Whatever. I don't care," Edward grumbles moodily and lays his head down on the desk. "Detention is starting soon so you better go."

"Are you the only one?"

"Sam is gonna be here too."

"I'm staying."

"Don't be stupid, just go."

Alphonse sits forward in his seat and doesn't budge, since it doesn't matter what Edward says to him. After a minute of repeatedly snapping at his younger brother he has to stop since Sam, a red-haired and grim-faced nine year old, walks in the room behind the teacher Ms. Wyatt. Sam sits next to Edward and sticks his tongue out at him when Ms. Wyatt isn't looking.

"I'm disappointed in you both," says Ms. Wyatt as she takes her seat at her desk. "You know better than to use that language Samuel. And Edward, violence is never a good way to settle things! And Al-" she pauses than continues "-Al, what are you doing here?"

"Brother isn't gonna be alone in here with him." He sends an accusing glare over at the red head. The emphasis on him is one with severe contempt.

"I'm with them Al. You can go home. Your mother will probably worry why both of her boys aren't home yet."

"But it's not fair," he says loudly. "How come brother has to have detention? He was only trying to make Sam be quiet!"

"I know but he shouldn't solve his problems by kicking dirt in someone's face."

"He deserved it though," says Al, crossing his arms and sulking down in his seat. Edward nods in agreement.

"Shutup you queer!" Sam shouts.

"Boys-"

The teachers word fall on deaf ears as Edward snaps, "Don't call him a queer or I'll do more than kick dirt in your face!"

There isn't any dirt to kick up in the other boy's face so he settles on throwing the piece of paper on his desk at the offending child. Sam avenges himself by reaching over and grabbing Edward by his sleeve, pulling him down to the floor. He tries to lay a punch on his head but Alphonse is up like lightning, pushing Sam out of his own seat to protect his sibling. Ms. Wyatt runs to the squabblers and she separates them, then pulls Sam to the back of the class to set him in a seat there.

"On second thought you can stay too, Al," she says coolly as she heads to the front of the class. "And I will not tolerate any more name calling or fighting! I will call your parents if you try to do that again. Now get yourselves a pencil and some paper and write me a hundred word essay on why violence is wrong, and why calling people names is wrong too. In your case Sam it'll be a two hundred word essay for both things."

Al hasn't become too upset that he's ended up in detention. He's not really looking forward to going home and explaining as to why either of them are late. He smiles at his brother who smiles back and mouths "Thanks."

Productivity on any more drabbles may slow down due to working on another FMA fanfic. I can't promise on either but I'll try to do something more before writers block kicks in full gear. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed these drabbles, even the ones that are a little too long.

I hope you weren't too put off by the insinuations of Al/Winry or Ed/Winry. None of these drabbles are going to turn into that but I mean, come on, they probably did have crushes on her when they were young. A lot of little boys get crushes on their friends who are girls.