FMA one-shot: Growing Pains
Title: Growing Pains
Author: ravenclaw42
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Notes: No pairing or anything, just a little randomosity that emerged after watching the Flame vs. Fullmetal episode. Not even related to the episode, either. Er.
The idea of automail bugs me. As does the blade Ed makes from his arm. The bladed arm must have the same mass as the normal form of the arm, but it’s clearly larger, or at least longer. Does he hollow the arm out to transfer mass to the blade, or what? Seems risky. Also unweildly; a normal sword-weilder makes use of every joint in their arm. Ed’s blade can only be manipulated by elbow and shoulder. Major ouchy on the connective tissue between flesh and machine. No wonder Al says the automail’s “so tough on you [Ed].”
Anyway, this fic emerged partly from that annoyance and partly from the annoyance of Ed’s stature. Yes, he’s naturally short and that’s funny and distinctive and great. But he started out twelve years old with the automail and is now fifteen. You cannot convince me that he didn’t grow at all in three years. Even if he didn’t get much taller, his body would have matured.
So anyway. Ficcyness. ^_^.
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“AAUUUGHHH GOD OLD WOMAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“Edwaaard,” Winry chided, holding out her favorite walnut-handled screwdriver to Pinako, who was too absorbed in the innards of Ed’s arm to respond to his screams. “If you keep this up we’ll be here another two hours.”
“You aren’t having all the nerve endings in your body stir-fried! Again!” Ed squeaked, trying valiantly to compose himself despite the furrowed brow and white knuckles that betrayed his agony. Sweat prickled down his cheek and neck and he swiped it away roughly with his flesh hand.
Pinako emerged from her mechanics’ hunch and wiped oil off her hands on her apron. “If you keep up this growth spurt,” she said cheerfully, “we’ll be having this cookout a lot more often, sonny.”
“Well, you always wanted to be taller, didn’t you?” Winry giggled and dodged as Ed took a potshot at her from the worktable.
Al’s voice, faint and muffled, drifted through the closed door. “Brother? Is it going to be much longer?”
“Nah, Al,” Ed managed in an almost-normal voice. “Almost done!” Cords stood out on his neck; the feigned relaxation was even more of a strain than the pain itself.
Winry glanced at the door, her smile fading a little. “He shouldn’t feel so obligated to wait around, you know,” she said, absently sorting screws and bolts by size. “Just listening’s not good for him. All he hears is you in pain.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s he missing, all the witty repartee and food jokes?” Ed gasped. “Those make the process so much pleasanter.”
Winry grinned again, but it was more skittish this time. She passed Pinako a few of the smallest screws and the old woman’s head vanished once again around the area of Ed’s armpit.
“Dammit, I can take this,” Ed growled quietly, wincing at each turn of Pinako’s screwdriver. “I gotta. When I put Al back in the flesh, ain’t no way he’s gonna be taller than me. I’d die of shame and who’d that leave him with? His kittens?”
Winry tentatively reached out towards Edward. When he didn’t swat her hand away or growl, she dared to touch his forehead, carefully wiping away the cold sweat and smoothing hair out of his eyes. Ed rolled his head to the side to look at her, unmasked for the briefest of moments -- his face was a confusion of gratitude and sadness and pain and familial love and...
She moved her hand and looked away, unable to bear it. Behind her, she could almost see the mask slipping back into place over his too-young features.
Pinako snapped loudly, breaking the moment. “Attention, girl, attention,” she said reprovingly. “Keep your mind on the task at hand, have no teachings stuck at all in that airy brain of yours? I need --” And she went off on a tangent of mechanical bits and bats Edwards didn’t feel up to keeping track of. Winry settled into the routine and didn’t pick on Ed again for the rest of the operation.
At last, a good forty-five minutes and several dozen cursing streaks later, Pinako gave a final few pokes at Ed’s hand and foot and made him flex all the joints of both limbs in turn. Satisfied, she declared, “Even better work than the last pair if I do say so myself. Now, Edward, I’ve modified the forearm to accommodate that mutation you’re so fond of snapping out--”
“It’s a freaking knife, woman,” Edward complained. “And I’m not defacing your handiwork, I need that blade to survive.”
Pinako harrumphed, unconvinced. “Well, the constant reorganization of the molecular structure was starting to make your knuckles brittle,” she said in a superior voice. “I’ve used a stronger alloy and reinforced the finger and wrist joints. If you’re going to insist on fixing a thing that ain’t broken, it’s the least I can do to make sure you don’t screw the whole thing over.” She chuckled at her own mechanics’ joke. Ed rolled his eyes.
He tried sitting up, choked on a wave of dizziness and nausea, groaned in defeat and flopped back down. “I think I’d rather have kept the old ones,” he moaned. “How fast am I growing again?” He stretched his neck with a wince and was rewarded with a series of crackles.
“Oh, I’ll expect you back in another eight months or so,” Pinako said airily.
Ed grumbled something incoherent in reply.
“You can’t let it go on for too long without coming back, Ed,” Winry said, looking honestly worried. “If you don’t keep the automail adjusted, your body’ll outgrow it and it’ll start tearing you apart.”
“And if one leg got longer than the other you’d not only be the State’s resident midget, you’d be the State’s resident midget with an old man’s limp,” Pinako interjected from across the room. A tic started spasming wildly at the corner of Ed’s eye, but Pinako had cleverly positioned herself out of his reach.
“Edward,” Winry pleaded.
“Yes, dammit, I will come back and let you torture me again in eight months,” Ed grouched. “You don’t have to nag.”
Winry looked slightly hurt for a moment, but she covered it up and starting cleaning tools instead. “I guess Al can come in now,” she said softly.
“Oh yeah,” said Ed. “AL! Hey Alphonse, where’d ya run off to?”
There was a breif clunking around in the hallway and Al entered a moment later, holding three heavy volumes in one arm. “I’m right here, brother,” he said in that strangely hollow-sounding voice of his. “I was just reading to pass the time.”
“What, all of those at once?” Ed poked a finger at the thick, dusty books.
“Cross-referencing,” Al said defensively.
“Yeah, sure,” Ed teased.
“You’re not the only one who passed the written part of the State Alchemy exam!” Al shot back. “I actually finished!”
“Well your wrist can’t go all noodley after four hours of writing, can it?”
“It’s not my fault you can’t teach yourself to be ambidextrous.”
“I shoulda lost my other arm, I could sock you one with my best hand without breakin’ my fist!”
“Of course you’d only get me on the kneecap...”
“Why you! -- I’m gettin’ there, ya know, I’ll tower over all you shrimps in armor --”
Pinako took Winry’s arm gently, pulling the girl’s attention away from the brothers’ raucous yet somehow gentle banter. Teasing that could send Ed into a bloodrage if it came from anyone else was just a harmless joke when it came from Al -- sometimes Winry envied that privilege.
“Leave them be a while,” Pinako said softly, tugging Winry out of the room. “I need some help in the workshop.”
“They’re growing up so fast,” Winry said absently as she followed her guardian down the hall to the garage.
“They’re not the only ones, dear,” Pinako said matter-of-factly, giving Winry a sideways glance.
“But Ed’s just becoming... so...” Winry sighed, shook her head. “I guess he’s always been driven. It’s not that much of a change.”
Pinako picked up a circular saw and tested the edge. “Winry Rockbell,” she said firmly, giving the saw a thorough once-over, “don’t you ever lose track of those boys, d’you hear? You’re part of what they’ve got together, if only a small part. You don’t let that go.”
“Granny?” Winry was a little startled by the urgency in Pinako’s voice.
The old woman sighed and looked off into the middle distance. “Just don’t want them to grow up so fast they leave everything behind before they think to take some of it with ‘em,” she murmured. “Don’t want them to have another disappointment. Make another mistake. Someone’s gotta keep ‘em grounded, let them know there’s more to life than the hunt.”
Winry nodded slowly. “I won’t let go, Gran,” she said. “Ed’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. Now reach up to that shelf like a good girl, I’m shrinking in my old age. Must be the only person in the world shorter than Edward Elric.”
“Not for long.”
“No. Not for much longer now.”
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Author: ravenclaw42
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Notes: No pairing or anything, just a little randomosity that emerged after watching the Flame vs. Fullmetal episode. Not even related to the episode, either. Er.
The idea of automail bugs me. As does the blade Ed makes from his arm. The bladed arm must have the same mass as the normal form of the arm, but it’s clearly larger, or at least longer. Does he hollow the arm out to transfer mass to the blade, or what? Seems risky. Also unweildly; a normal sword-weilder makes use of every joint in their arm. Ed’s blade can only be manipulated by elbow and shoulder. Major ouchy on the connective tissue between flesh and machine. No wonder Al says the automail’s “so tough on you [Ed].”
Anyway, this fic emerged partly from that annoyance and partly from the annoyance of Ed’s stature. Yes, he’s naturally short and that’s funny and distinctive and great. But he started out twelve years old with the automail and is now fifteen. You cannot convince me that he didn’t grow at all in three years. Even if he didn’t get much taller, his body would have matured.
So anyway. Ficcyness. ^_^.
------
“AAUUUGHHH GOD OLD WOMAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“Edwaaard,” Winry chided, holding out her favorite walnut-handled screwdriver to Pinako, who was too absorbed in the innards of Ed’s arm to respond to his screams. “If you keep this up we’ll be here another two hours.”
“You aren’t having all the nerve endings in your body stir-fried! Again!” Ed squeaked, trying valiantly to compose himself despite the furrowed brow and white knuckles that betrayed his agony. Sweat prickled down his cheek and neck and he swiped it away roughly with his flesh hand.
Pinako emerged from her mechanics’ hunch and wiped oil off her hands on her apron. “If you keep up this growth spurt,” she said cheerfully, “we’ll be having this cookout a lot more often, sonny.”
“Well, you always wanted to be taller, didn’t you?” Winry giggled and dodged as Ed took a potshot at her from the worktable.
Al’s voice, faint and muffled, drifted through the closed door. “Brother? Is it going to be much longer?”
“Nah, Al,” Ed managed in an almost-normal voice. “Almost done!” Cords stood out on his neck; the feigned relaxation was even more of a strain than the pain itself.
Winry glanced at the door, her smile fading a little. “He shouldn’t feel so obligated to wait around, you know,” she said, absently sorting screws and bolts by size. “Just listening’s not good for him. All he hears is you in pain.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s he missing, all the witty repartee and food jokes?” Ed gasped. “Those make the process so much pleasanter.”
Winry grinned again, but it was more skittish this time. She passed Pinako a few of the smallest screws and the old woman’s head vanished once again around the area of Ed’s armpit.
“Dammit, I can take this,” Ed growled quietly, wincing at each turn of Pinako’s screwdriver. “I gotta. When I put Al back in the flesh, ain’t no way he’s gonna be taller than me. I’d die of shame and who’d that leave him with? His kittens?”
Winry tentatively reached out towards Edward. When he didn’t swat her hand away or growl, she dared to touch his forehead, carefully wiping away the cold sweat and smoothing hair out of his eyes. Ed rolled his head to the side to look at her, unmasked for the briefest of moments -- his face was a confusion of gratitude and sadness and pain and familial love and...
She moved her hand and looked away, unable to bear it. Behind her, she could almost see the mask slipping back into place over his too-young features.
Pinako snapped loudly, breaking the moment. “Attention, girl, attention,” she said reprovingly. “Keep your mind on the task at hand, have no teachings stuck at all in that airy brain of yours? I need --” And she went off on a tangent of mechanical bits and bats Edwards didn’t feel up to keeping track of. Winry settled into the routine and didn’t pick on Ed again for the rest of the operation.
At last, a good forty-five minutes and several dozen cursing streaks later, Pinako gave a final few pokes at Ed’s hand and foot and made him flex all the joints of both limbs in turn. Satisfied, she declared, “Even better work than the last pair if I do say so myself. Now, Edward, I’ve modified the forearm to accommodate that mutation you’re so fond of snapping out--”
“It’s a freaking knife, woman,” Edward complained. “And I’m not defacing your handiwork, I need that blade to survive.”
Pinako harrumphed, unconvinced. “Well, the constant reorganization of the molecular structure was starting to make your knuckles brittle,” she said in a superior voice. “I’ve used a stronger alloy and reinforced the finger and wrist joints. If you’re going to insist on fixing a thing that ain’t broken, it’s the least I can do to make sure you don’t screw the whole thing over.” She chuckled at her own mechanics’ joke. Ed rolled his eyes.
He tried sitting up, choked on a wave of dizziness and nausea, groaned in defeat and flopped back down. “I think I’d rather have kept the old ones,” he moaned. “How fast am I growing again?” He stretched his neck with a wince and was rewarded with a series of crackles.
“Oh, I’ll expect you back in another eight months or so,” Pinako said airily.
Ed grumbled something incoherent in reply.
“You can’t let it go on for too long without coming back, Ed,” Winry said, looking honestly worried. “If you don’t keep the automail adjusted, your body’ll outgrow it and it’ll start tearing you apart.”
“And if one leg got longer than the other you’d not only be the State’s resident midget, you’d be the State’s resident midget with an old man’s limp,” Pinako interjected from across the room. A tic started spasming wildly at the corner of Ed’s eye, but Pinako had cleverly positioned herself out of his reach.
“Edward,” Winry pleaded.
“Yes, dammit, I will come back and let you torture me again in eight months,” Ed grouched. “You don’t have to nag.”
Winry looked slightly hurt for a moment, but she covered it up and starting cleaning tools instead. “I guess Al can come in now,” she said softly.
“Oh yeah,” said Ed. “AL! Hey Alphonse, where’d ya run off to?”
There was a breif clunking around in the hallway and Al entered a moment later, holding three heavy volumes in one arm. “I’m right here, brother,” he said in that strangely hollow-sounding voice of his. “I was just reading to pass the time.”
“What, all of those at once?” Ed poked a finger at the thick, dusty books.
“Cross-referencing,” Al said defensively.
“Yeah, sure,” Ed teased.
“You’re not the only one who passed the written part of the State Alchemy exam!” Al shot back. “I actually finished!”
“Well your wrist can’t go all noodley after four hours of writing, can it?”
“It’s not my fault you can’t teach yourself to be ambidextrous.”
“I shoulda lost my other arm, I could sock you one with my best hand without breakin’ my fist!”
“Of course you’d only get me on the kneecap...”
“Why you! -- I’m gettin’ there, ya know, I’ll tower over all you shrimps in armor --”
Pinako took Winry’s arm gently, pulling the girl’s attention away from the brothers’ raucous yet somehow gentle banter. Teasing that could send Ed into a bloodrage if it came from anyone else was just a harmless joke when it came from Al -- sometimes Winry envied that privilege.
“Leave them be a while,” Pinako said softly, tugging Winry out of the room. “I need some help in the workshop.”
“They’re growing up so fast,” Winry said absently as she followed her guardian down the hall to the garage.
“They’re not the only ones, dear,” Pinako said matter-of-factly, giving Winry a sideways glance.
“But Ed’s just becoming... so...” Winry sighed, shook her head. “I guess he’s always been driven. It’s not that much of a change.”
Pinako picked up a circular saw and tested the edge. “Winry Rockbell,” she said firmly, giving the saw a thorough once-over, “don’t you ever lose track of those boys, d’you hear? You’re part of what they’ve got together, if only a small part. You don’t let that go.”
“Granny?” Winry was a little startled by the urgency in Pinako’s voice.
The old woman sighed and looked off into the middle distance. “Just don’t want them to grow up so fast they leave everything behind before they think to take some of it with ‘em,” she murmured. “Don’t want them to have another disappointment. Make another mistake. Someone’s gotta keep ‘em grounded, let them know there’s more to life than the hunt.”
Winry nodded slowly. “I won’t let go, Gran,” she said. “Ed’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. Now reach up to that shelf like a good girl, I’m shrinking in my old age. Must be the only person in the world shorter than Edward Elric.”
“Not for long.”
“No. Not for much longer now.”
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