Bad Temper: I WISH I owned FMA. But luckily for Vic, I don't...

The Toothbrush

Cold air brushed against Edward's cheek. The sensation roused him against his will and he nestled further under the plush comforter where it was still cozy and warm in attempt to escape the unwelcomed winter day. Upon awakening, though, the young blonde was made aware of just how miserable he felt. His ears hurt, he couldn't breath through his nose, and he could feel the sinus drainage dripping down the back of his raw throat. Over all he felt gross.

He fought for about half an hour to go back to sleep, but the penetrating cold and the fading warmth of the empty bed made him feel fidgety and wrestles. Eventually he resigned to getting up for the day.

Tired creaking sounds emanated from the wooden planks giving under Ed's mismatched feet as he made his way down the stairs. The only redeeming quality of this weary winter morning was the smell of eggs and bacon and maybe toast wafting from the kitchen. Ed tilted his head back to take in the scent as he followed it into the next room. There he found the wonderful sight of his lover standing before the stove, barefoot, in black silk pajama pants and a matching button down pajama shirt.

When he heard the metal of Ed's bare left foot tapping on the wooden floor as he walked, Mustang turned his head to give him a heartfelt glance over his shoulder as he was cooking.

"Good morning, love."

"Morning." Ed grumbled back in a low, raspy, morning voice. The sound of it made the colonel chuckle.

The younger alchemist walked up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around his toned waist and laid his head against the well-muscled shoulder blades.

Sunday mornings were always nice. They could sleep in and make breakfast together and enjoy a peaceful day away from the command center. No orders, no subordinates, no paperwork. It was just the two of them, eating their breakfast while sharing pleasant conversation. Later they would go grocery shopping. Then they would read and research in a comfortable silence. After that, they might spar in the back yard, which would be sure to lead them to the bedroom. And after working up such an appetite, they would eventually make dinner together and finally go back to bed with full bellies and feeling content.

Although, today might not go exactly like that with the way Ed was feeling.

As the two sat across from each other at the island in the kitchen eating their breakfast, Ed broke the peaceful silence between Mustang and himself.

"I think I'm coming down with something."

"I would imagine," Mustang replied after swallowing a bite of eggs. "You were coughing in your sleep last night."

"Huh. That would explain the soar throat."

"Poor thing."

"Nah, I'll be fine. I'm sure it's just a cold or something."

Ed, being the veracious eater that he was, finished first and got up to take his plate to the sinc. He washed his dishes and then came back over to his partner to place a chaste kiss on his lips before leaving to go back upstairs.

During the colder months the house would take on a paler light, and the smooth wooden floorboards would become cold to the touch. Ed hated it. He trudged back up the stairs and down the hall, back through the master bedroom and into their lush bathroom.

He began by brushing his hair and then pulling it back into ponytail. Then he picked up his toothbrush… and looked at it… loathing it.

All it took was the slightest amount of sinus drainage to make brushing his teeth become one of his most hated activities of the day. He was already nearly gagging on the gooey mess in the back of his throat. With a defiant huff, he turned on the water, squeezed the toothpaste onto the offending appliance and went to work on his front teeth.

By that time, Mustang had finished his breakfast as well and was on his way up the stairs to join Ed in the same routine.

As Ed moved to the toothbrush further back to clean his molars, he found himself fighting the terrible gagging reflex that it caused. He mustled his way through the process, repeating it on the other side and then took a deep breath to calm his quivering esophagus. Then as the last part of his morning oral routine, he stuck out his tongue and began to brush that as well.

That was a mistake.

As soon as he got about midway back, his tongue jerked back violently and his hypersensitive reflex took over. His upper body heaved over the sinc as he made a rather disgusting noise and hacked into the porcelain basin. His face went red and the veins and tendons in his neck became strained with the effort.

"Edward?" Mustang's voice sounded alarmed as he quickly came to his side. He rubbed his younger lover on the back as he continued to cough a few more times. "Did you get sick?"

Once the coughing had ebbed off, Ed took a couple deep breaths and then shook his head in response to Mustang's question. He righted himself and then looked at his concerned partner in the mirror.

"I'm alright. I just gagged on my tooth brush is all."


Ed nodded.

"How is that…" the confusion was very apparent on the older man's face. "You brush your teeth all the time."

"Yes I do, captain obvious. Thanks for noticing."

"But…" The faintest of grins showed itself on Mustang's face. "I just don't see how you can give me amazing BJs all the time with no problems and then go and choke on something as small as a toothbrush."

"Well, obviously the toothbrush is bigger." Ed replied flatly.

"What! Hey! That's not true!" Mustang howled.

Edward burst into laughter at Mustang's indignant response. It wasn't true, but it seamed like the right thing to say at the moment. He bit his bottom lip in an attempt to muffle his hysteria as he looked up at his flustered lover who scowled back down at him.

"That was not called for, Ed."

"I know, but you gotta admit, you kinda' set yourself up for that one."

It was impossible for Mustang to stay mad at the adorable blonde. He felt his expression soften as he watched the younger man try to muffle more giggles. The innocent look on his face, though completely false, could melt the coldest of hearts - at least as far as Mustang was concerned. He moved to close the empty space between them and wrapped his arms around Ed's slender waist.

"Fine then. Why don't I take you back into the bedroom and remind you just which one is bigger."

The giggling blonde settled into the warmth of his lover's embrace and made a content humming noise into his chest.

Mustang dipped his head down to place a sweet kiss on Ed's lips, but before their lips could meet; Ed jerked his head to the side abruptly.


Now it was Mustang who laughed. "On second thought. Why don't I make you some hot chamomile tea and tuck you back in bed."

"No!" Ed sniffled due to the sneeze. "I get bored just lying around!"

"Come oooon." Mustang began to drag him back towards their bed.

"I don't wanna!"

"You're sick"


Edward insisted on bickering with Mustang but the stuffy sound of his voice and the red tint of his nose didn't help his argument.

Eventually he compromised and the two of them ended up snuggled under a blanket on the living room couch, reading a book and warmed by the fire that Mustang had ignited in the fireplace. Outside, the first fluffy flakes of snow began to fall.

Bad Temper: Cute right? :D Yes, I got the toothbrush joke from Jeff Dunham. But it'd been floating around in my head for so long I just HAD to use it in a fic. :P