Ed is little so he talks like he is. Those aren’t spelling errors when Edward speaks.

I have no idea why, but I wrote most of this right after I wrote Part I. For some strange and inexplicable reason, I stopped…

But it’s here again! (And those who are reading my other FMA fic… I am working on it… Uu)

What? No EdxAl or AlxEd. Brotherly!Elric Fanficion. Parental!Hohenheim. Set in either the Anime or the Manga.

Warning: This may (and this does not mean it does) contain non-intentional or intentional spoilers for the Anime series. Read at your own risk. If you do not like spoilers, watch the Anime and the Movie then come back.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist… Yadda Yadda Yadda… So, don’t sue me. Savvy?

Summery – First words bless those who first hear them; they mean more than just the sounds, or the understanding of the sounds. A first word is a peek into the soul.

First Words Part II
Alphonse’s

Little Alphonse cooed as he was bounced up and down on his father’s knee. Hohenheim grinned as his son clapped his hands happily enjoying the ‘train ride’ that his father was giving him. Edward was sitting close by, making exploding noises as he pushed two trucks together, not at all caring that trucks didn’t really fly.

“Now, who’s thirsty?” Trisha said walking out of the house and towards the three with a platter that had pink lemonade, a bottle, and a plate of cookies.

Hohenheim stopped bouncing Alphonse and looked up at Trisha gratefully. “Thank you Trisha.”

Edward ran up to his mother, his trucks left on the ground and ‘exploded’.

“I’m tursty Mommy!” He held out his arms high above him. “Peese?”

“My, how polite you are!”

Edward beamed and puffed out his chest. That’s right, his was his mom’s ‘little man’ and he was polite.

Trisha chuckled at her oldest and placed the platter on the table, and handed Edward a glass filled halfway with the lemonade. “Here you go, honey. Be careful and don’t spill it.”

“Don’ be silly. I won… oops. Sowwy.” Edward had managed, in the space of four seconds, to spill half the glass all over the ground. “I din’ mean to!”

“That’s alright Edward,” Hohenheim said, ruffling Edward’s hair, Alphonse held safely by his other arm. “We’re outside.”

Edward looked around. “But I made a mess!”

“You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But I made the gwound all dirty! Dat’s not good!” Edward looked up at his dad seriously. “I need to clean up messes I make! Dat’s the rule, Daddy!”

Hohenheim shook his head. “No no no… It’s all right. You can’t clean up the grass, Edward. If you spill on the grass, you don’t need to clean up.”

Edward looked down at the grass around his feet to see that the lemonade was indeed going to be hard to clean up, and that it seemed to have soaked into the dirt.

“Oh. Okay!” He said happily, looking rather pleased that he didn’t give himself another chore.

Hohenheim chuckled again. He enjoyed the time he had to spend with his family, however much longer it could last. His thoughts were dragged away when little Alphonse began making ‘nnn’ noises, squirming and stretching out to reach for his milk bottle.

“Why, you’re thirsty too, aren’t you?” Trisha cooed as she picked Alphonse out of her husband’s grip and settled him in the crook of her elbow. She placed the bottle in Alphonse’s mouth, who accepted it gingerly, holding onto it with both hands.

There was a tugging at the back of Trisha’s dress. “Mommy? Why does my broder hav’ta drink dat uky stuff?”

Hoenheim chuckled, but his wife answered. “Because Alphonse needs it to grow up big and strong.”

“What if he dun’ like it?”

“He seems to be enjoying himself.”

Alphonse was indeed enjoying himself, he sucked happily on the bottle, enjoying every last drop of the milk. Edward scowled and stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“Why can’t he have lenom juice like us? I tink it’s better dan uky milk!”

“Because it’s acidic,” Hoenheim replied, his own glass of ‘lenom juice’ in his hand.

Edward blinked once, then twice…

Trisha laughed. “He means it’ll make Alphonse’s tummy hurt. He’s too little to have Lemonade just yet.”

“Well, why doesn’t my broder ask for sometin’ difrent?”

Trisha and Hohenheim exchanged glances, both of whom where grinning. Their eldest son could be insufferably cute sometimes…

“Because Alphonse can’t speak yet.” Trisha explained softly as she took the empty bottle away from Alphonse, who burped happily.

“Why not? I can talk.”

“Well, you’re older than him.”

“Jus’ by a little.”

Hoenheim sat down in a lawn chair that was conveniently close. “Alphonse is still too young to speak.”

“Das’ dumb. Afon should speak.”

---

Alphonse and Edward sat in the middle of the living room floor. Edward was calmly showing Alphonse how to play one of his favorite games, ‘flying trucks’. His mother was busy in the kitchen, fixing supper, while his father was once again, away.

Alphonse babbled as Edward showed him how the red truck flew differently than the gray truck because it was smaller and therefore, able to fly better. Alphonse watched Edward swoosh the red truck around with a grin on his face waving his arms in the air, willing for a try.

“You want to play with dem?” Edward asked, still holding the truck high above his head and out of his brother’s reach.

Alphonse nodded, ‘nnn’ing as he reached towards the red truck.

“Well. Ask ‘den.”

Alphonse opened and closed his hands, looking at his brother with begging eyes.

“Maybe dat’s too hard. Okay, say the colour.” Edward held the truck closer to Al, but only for looking. “See? The truck is red. Say red.”

Alphonse blinked at Edward, confused.

Edward waved the truck around. “Come on Afon! Say red. Dat isn’t so hard!”

“Nnn!” Alphonse made to reach for the truck, but Edward swished it away before he could touch it.

“No! You can’t play with dem. You hafta say red!”

Alphonse sniffled, lip quivering, but his hands remained in mid-air as if waiting for the truck to fall into them.

“Say red,” Edward demanded, looking very, very annoyed now.

Alphonse opened and closed his mouth, but only a ‘nnn’ came out, like many times before.

“Dat’s it!” Edward exclaimed, standing up and stomping his foot. “If you ain’t gunna say red, den you ain’t goin’ to get the truck!”

Alphonse looked at Edward, pleading, grappling harder, tears beginning to form out of distress and frustration over his older brother’s antics.

“I’m not givin’ it to you now,” Edward firmly, hugging the truck close to himself. “So don’t cry abou’ it!”

With that said, Edward walked over to an empty shelf that sat against wall. “An’ jus’ so you don’t get it,” he began to climb, “I’m gunna put it up here. So you don’t get it Afon!”

Alphonse watched Edward try to reach two shelves up with concerned interest. His eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Nnn!” Alphonse exclaimed, waving his arms.

Edward turned his head so he could see his brother, his feet on the second shelf, and his hands on the third. “I’m not giving it to you!’

“Nnn!” Alphonse waved harder, trying to get his message across.

“No!” Edward examined and he made to climb to the third shelf, reaching with his little hand to put the truck there, out of Alphonse’s reach. The shelf was high, meant to put the very tall volumes of books that his father had. Edward was about three feet off the ground, and the empty shelf was dangerously tilting due to his added weight.

Of course, Edward was only a toddler, what did he know about climbing shelves? His foot slipped and-

Edward shouted in surprise as he found himself falling backwards, landing on the floor hard and rolling to the side; the red truck falling to the ground, forgotten.

A crash followed soon after, the bookshelf smashed into the ground, narrowly missing the tiny Elric. Alphonse screamed in surprise.

Edward’s cries of terror and hurt soon rose through the house.

Trisha came hurtling into the room from the kitchen as soon as Edward’s cries began, and was instantly at Edward’s side; she picked him up and cradled him in her arms, making sure that he wasn’t seriously hurt in any way.

“Shh… it’s okay, baby… shh… you’re alright…”

They stood that way for only a couple of seconds, Trisha trying desperately to calm down her near-hysterical son.

“BWOVER!” Came a shout of distress from behind Trisha. The sound stopped both Trisha’s soothing and Edward’s tears dead.

She couldn’t keep the surprise off her face as she turned face her youngest son, who looked very, very distressed and anxious to the point of tears.

“Alphonse… Did you say something, honey?” She asked.

“Bwover!” he exclaimed again, waving his arms in the air, displaying his worry.

Trisha froze. She had no idea what to do. Congratulate Alphonse on his first word, or console her other son who had tempted death.

---

Edward laughed out loud. “Oh! I remember that now! I took away that truck because I was so frustrated you wouldn’t say anything! Red, I think it was.”

Alphonse’s echoing laughter followed after Edward’s own. “Yeah. Then when you started climbing the bookshelf, just so I couldn’t reach it.”

Edward ran his hand through his hair, chucking. “And it fell over! I remember now! And you were waving your little arms in the air, trying to warn me.”

“But you thought I was trying to get the truck.”

Edward put down his mug of tea on the table. “Remember Mom’s face when she came in, and saw what happened… then you called out?”

Alphonse chuckled. “She didn’t know what to do.”

“She just stood there. I think we fried her brain.” Edward began laughing harder. “I don’t even remember what she did after that. But I remember her face was priceless. She must have stood there for ten minutes.”

“I don’t remember what happened after that. Did Dad come in?”

Edward shook his head. “I had to tap her on the shoulder to get her to snap out of it.”

“I wasn’t really that hurt. The shelf missed me.”

“You told her you were okay.”

Edward slid the mug of tea away from himself.

“I had to tell you that too.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“You started to cry. I think you thought Mom was being quiet because I was really hurt. You wouldn’t stop saying ‘brother’. Over and over… I remember.” His voice softened in recollection. “Not until I got Mom to put me down and go over to you myself.”

“I think I remember that.”

“I had to hug you to prove that I was fine. You cried for a long time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and you said your second word right after you started to calm down,” Edward said, stirring his tea absently with his spoon, remembering the feeling of his little brother hugging him back.

“Really? What was it?”

---

Alphonse held on tightly to his brother’s shirt, burying his face into his shoulder. “Eward,” Alphonse said with voice full of relief.

- End -

Ended differently than I thought it would. Oh, I have no clue how old they are. Old enough to have words, but young enough for Alphonse to have a bottle.

In the end… I like it… Kind cliché, but I like how I did it… It’s a cliché in a different sort of way… if that possibly can work. Oo

Next Story: Something to do with milk or Russel and Fletcher.

(No flames. Mustang will just make them into big explosions, which will fire back at you, or he will toast marshmallows and we will eat them…)