I don't own FMA

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Hohenheim put down his book and watched as she sat perched on the edge of their bed pulling a brush through her wet hair.

Trisha stopped and looked over her shoulder at him…his gaze was quite distracting. "Finished already?" she asked, bewildered that he'd dusted off the three hundred pages of Amestrian history in the time it took her to put the boys to bed and shower.

He shook his head and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I thought you wanted to get through with it tonight," she commented, not quite sure what to think of him actually putting a book down for a change.

"It can wait."

Trisha smiled over her shoulder at him and then went back to brushing her hair. Once she was satisfied she'd gotten out all the knots, she put the brush back on the bedside table and began to weave her hair into a braid.

"I thought you should leave it down tonight," he suggested.

Trisha schooled her face to obliviousness before turning to him—so that was why he was acting so strange. "And let it get all tangled and unruly?" she asked.

He shrugged, puffing his cheeks out into a defeated pout when her hands drifted back to the braid. She watched him watch her for a moment, nearly cracking a smirk at the intensity of his gaze. Turning away from him, she slowly pulled the braid apart until her hair was hanging down her back.

A grin spread across her face as his fingers ran through her damp hair. The bed creaked softly as he shifted and her skin tingled as his fingers skimmed her neck. She leaned back against him, feeling like a silly girl as her cheeks heated when his hand dipped into the neckline of her nightdress.

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A.N. - Originally written for the prompt "tangle" at livejournal's fanfic_bakeoff. Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: WargishBoromirFan!