Miniature
She kisses him, lightly, on the nose. He laughs involuntarily at the feeling, at her hair tickling his face, at the spontaneity of it, but mostly at the way she has to stand on tiptoes in order to reach high enough. She lowers her brows and glares in mock-anger, still holding his face between her hands, but try as he might he is unable to stop the laughter from escaping him.
He hugs her hard when he sees her again after their long period of separation, lifting her up and spinning her around until she gasps, and staggers when he sets her down at last. He is sheepishly apologetic afterwards, and explains awkwardly that he was very excited to see her. She laughs, saying that she figured that out, and jokes that her spine will never be the same again; he blushes and ducks his head.
He is playing with her hair, running his fingers through it, and gets hopelessly entangled halfway along the length. Whatever he does seems to make it worse-and his panicking doesn't help the situation either. She, of course, is unable to do anything, as she can't see what is attached to her own head. In the end, both of them crimson with shame, they have to call in assistance, and now suspect that Ed, who guffaws like a moron throughout the entire operation, will never let them live it down.
She unwittingly walks in on him washing his face at the bathroom sink, clad only in his underwear; she flees with an embarrassed shriek, leaving the door hanging open behind her, and him turning belatedly around to look over his shoulder in confusion. She can't look him in the eye when he comes, thankfully fully-dressed, into the kitchen later; she stares, red-faced, at her knees. She expects him to be angry, knowing that he, unlike his brother, is modest, and would rather not be seen semi-naked. He awkwardly tells her that it's fine: he knows it was an accident- but Ed walks into the room at that point, and refuses to go until they explain their conversation; he leaves cackling a few minutes later, barely avoiding the missiles thrown at his back.
Their noses collide when they kiss, sometimes, or their foreheads. He pulls away, glowing with humiliation while she giggles, both with a hand to the afflicted area.
But life, like love, is full of these miniature complications, and in the end it is these things, just as much as the perfections, that draw them closer together.
Author's notes: Ed seems abnormally amused by other people's discomfort. . .