Ed hummed softly to himself as he bustled about Colonel Mustang's kitchen, a half-made sandwich laid on the counter. Why he was here? The apartment him and Al were staying at blew up. And it wasn't Ed's fault! At least, that's what he told himself. Al was out getting groceries, seeing as the Colonel wasn't stocked up on the stuff that was important, like peanut butter and bagels.

His humming paused when he heard the Colonel shuffling around on the couch, a loud sneeze practically echoing throughout the house. Ed rolled his eyes as he slapped a piece of bread on the sandwich to finish it off. Considering Mustang didn't even have a table, he went over to the living room and sat in the armchair, his plate in his lap. Mustang was rubbing his eyes blearily, having just woken up from his crash on the couch.

"'N time is it?" he grumbled, fumbling for his pocket watch in his pocket. When the watch was on the table. Ed sighed as he pulled out his own watch and flicked it open.

"Three o'clock. Congratulations, Colonel Useless, you slept for a whole four hours," Ed said sarcastically, snapping his watch closed and picking up his sandwich. His stomach growled in anticipation.

"Feel like shit," Mustang muttered, rubbing his neck to try and ease the soreness. Ed said nothing as he took a bite out of his sandwich, precisely in the middle.

"Tha's wha happ'ns when ya sleep on th' couch," he said around his food. Mustang crinkled his nose, awake enough to know that it wasn't polite to talk with your mouth full. But since when did the Fullmetal Alchemist care about something as trivial as manners? Silence fell throughout the room, though neither did anything to break that silence. Mustang just watched as Ed swallowed the bite in his mouth, then took another chunk off of the sandwich from the corner. Then the other corner. Then the middle. Then the right corner. Then the left. Middle. Right. Left.

'That's a big sandwich,' he thought idly to himself, noting how Ed could barely keep it from falling apart. Ed took another bite form the middle. Mustang was beginning to see a pattern here.

"Being a little meticulous, aren't we?" he said a second later. Ed looked up, confusion flitting across his face.

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning. Mustang gestured to the sandwich.

"How you're eating that. Making it all neat and symmetrical," he elaborated. Ed's face darkened.

"Yeah, what of it?" he muttered, stuffing the last of the sandwich into his mouth. Mustang shrugged.

"It was weird," he said dismissively. "Most people just eat it, not try and make it pretty."

"So? Why should it matter?" Ed snapped.

"It doesn't," Mustang said airily. "Just strange, is all."

"I can't help it, okay?" Ed burst out, face turning pink. "It just looks and feels weird if it's all lopsided!" Mustang snorted.

"It's food, not a work of art," he said slowly.

"Still," Ed growled, glowering at Mustang.

And finally, Mustang couldn't hold it in.

He started laughing.

Ed's face became a brilliant scarlet. Sure, he was used to being teased, but nobody had ever outright laughed at him for something so... mundane! It was irritating, to say the least.

Which was why when Al walked in moments later, he had no idea as to what transpired between them. Only that Ed refused to talk about it and Roy couldn't stop grinning every time he saw Ed make a sandwich.

Haha, bet you can guess where this came from. I was eating a sandwich when my mom said that I eat it funny, since I always try to keep it... well, symmetrical. So then, this was born!

Like it? Hate it? Think it was shit that needs to be put in a mental hospital? Just let me know! Ciao, for now!