Note from the Author: Psyche! You thought it was going to be a story with a plot! Well, it's not. It was intended to be a chain of short stories, and a chain it shall be. I don't know why the last one was in more of a story format, but it's not really what I was planning. You never know- maybe a plot line will show up later on, but life doesn't really have a set plot, so why should theirs? Well...maybe it's not the best idea, but hopefully that means the story will never get boring!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of the characters, no matter how much I may want to.

"Al!" Ed scolded in a harsh whisper, "You're messing everything up!" Al stopped trying to mix the floury dough (which was puffing up in clouds all around the two, creating a dusty-looking counter piled with dusty-looking utensils). He let go of the wooden spoon he had been using to try to stir and quickly brought his hands down in front of him.

Ed and Al had woken up almost two hours earlier than they would have liked in order to do something special for their mom. She always made them breakfast- not to mention the other meals in the day. It was time someone made her a warm, delicious meal. But of course, losing two hours of sleep made one brother rather angry and one brother rather scatter-brained.

"Sorry, brother, I'm just trying to help," Al apologized a little too loudly.

"Shhh!" Ed silently scram at his younger brother. Tears started forming in Al's big blue eyes. He tried to hide his face from his idolized sibling, but with not much success. Ed felt a surge of guilt and sighed. He quickly tossled Al's hair and went back to working on the perfect breakfast for their perfect mother.

"You can work on the eggs, okay?" Ed instructed quietly. Al's face brightened in an instant.

"Okay!" he cheered, hastily jumping off his stool in front of the counter he had been previously working at, and moved the wooden box closer to the stove.

"But be quiet!" Ed yelled in a whisper, again, "We don't want to wake mom up!"

"Right!" Al agreed, just as loudly as his previous cheer. Ed just growled a little bit and went back to making Trisha's favorite blueberry muffins. He hadn't thought cooking would be that hard. It was just like alchemy- minus the science. But it was so much harder when you couldn't apply science. Ed wanted to believe it was as basic as following the instructions in the cookbook lain before him, but that was just too easy. There was no way…There has to be some trick to it or something, Ed thought, reading through the procedure carefully one more time.

"Um…brother?" Al began innocently, and quietly this time, "Their stuck to the pan…" Ed looked up from his meticulous search and ran over to the stove, worried part two of the lovely breakfast was ruined. He turned off the heat and looked in the pan to see the problem. It was Al had said. They were stuck- and leaving a gross, yellow, eggy peel on the base of the pan.

"What did you do to them Al?" Ed asked angrily, forgetting to keep his voice low. His mistake caused Al to forget to stay silent as well.

"I didn't do anything brother! I made them just like you told me!" he fought back, the lack of sleep starting to kick his nerves as well.

"Well then why are they stuck?!"

"I don't know! You must have told me how to make them wrong!"

"Don't blame me for this!"

"But it's your fault!"

"Don't yell at your brother, idiot!"

"I'm not an idiot!"

"Boys?" Ed and Al froze and exchanged a worried/disappointed look at the other. Both turned their eyes to the door of the kitchen. There she was. Trisha. Standing at the door.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, "I thought I heard you two fighting again." Ed and Al both felt the guilt turn to tears. They hung their heads and looked away from their sweet mother, too ashamed of themselves to do anything more.

There was silence for a moment as Trisha walked over to the counter, then to the stove her sons, who were trying hard not to cry, were standing at.

"Was this for me?" she asked. The boys could only nod their heads, still intently looking at their feet.

"Thank you so much," she said, wrapping Ed and Al into a tight hug, "That was so thoughtful." When she at last released her sons, she smiled brightly at the two of them and stood up to see the inside of the pan- and to find out just what it was they had been fighting about. She laughed to herself.

"First thing you should know about cooking eggs," she told the two at her feet, "is to always remember to put oil in first. It shouldn't stick after that, but if it does- it's no big deal. See? All that arguing for nothing. I think you two owe the other an apology." Her tone was too loving and understanding for the boys to even think about protesting. Al immediately gave his brother a big hug.

"It wasn't your fault," he cried a little too excessively, "It was mine."

"No it wasn't," Ed told him, still a little harshly, but with good intentions, "And you're not an idiot…"

"That's better. Now why don't I show you a few tricks?" she asked. The brothers' guilt and sadness disappeared and was replaced with excitement. Though they weren't able to actually make their mother the lovely breakfast, they learned how. And in about a week, when Ed insisted their mother had forgotten about the whole incident, they tried again. It was the best breakfast a mother could have asked for.