Title: Simplicity

Summary: Ten drabbles from when Ed and Al were children. The innocence of childhood and the sibling rivalry that takes place. Not to mention cake being used as ammunition, that's always fun. And Al is pretty sure 'kaprillion' is not a real number. Not Elricest.

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.

A/N: Ages vary in each one. Also, I'm not quite sure how long a drabble is meant to be, but anything under 1000 words is a drabble to me.

IIIII

.One.

"I want that part of the cake," Edward demands, pointing at the intricate icing at the top corner in the shape of a rose.

"It's my birthday cake," Al reminds his older brother.

As Trisha takes the seven candles out of the birthday cake she says, "It is Al's cake so he should be able to pick what he wants."

Edward crosses his arms, frustration evident on his face. He knows he can't argue with logic.

"It's really pretty Mom," Al compliments his mother who had baked and decorated the cake. Thanks swims in his eyes.

And in the moment it took him to make eye contact with his mother and smile Edward has poked his fingers into the rose, then deep into the cake, successfully marking his spot. "Ha! You can't have it now, huh?" He takes out the offending digits and licks them off.

Trisha stands there with her mouth agape. "Edward! How could you--"

Alphonse isn't nearly as upset about this as his mother. He merely takes a glob of red frosting and his hand splatters the rose on Edward's forehead. "You wanted it so much that I thought you could save that for later," Al says laughing.

.Two.

Three years old Edward can't quite reach the plate of cookies, and although he could try and move the chairs to stand on, he doesn't want to wake his mother who is currently taking a nap in her room. He knows he's to be taking a nap but everytime he closes his eyes all he can see is cookies dancing, just waiting to be bit into.

"Ba-ba?" mumbles Alphonse, standing just a few feet away. He can't quite pronounce "brother" so "ba-ba" has taken it's place.

Edward intends to shoo him away. He doesn't want to get caught especially with his younger brother in tow. If his mother wakes up she'll blame him for Al getting out of his crib.

"Go," He snaps.

"Ba-ba?" Al repeats.

The older Elric glances up to the counter that is just out of fingers reach and then back to Al, who's engaging in sucking his thumb. With a thieving smirk he motions up to the counter and says, "I want cookies."

His eyes light up at this word. "Cookie?"

Edward picks up Alphonse who giggles excitedly. He stands on his tip-toes, holding Al the highest he can and directs his brother with, and orders, "Get a cookie."

Alphonse reaches out and grabs a single cookie. Holding up his prize he squeals, "Cookie!"

The elder blonde smiles in victory and sets Alphonse on his bottom safely. Ed snatches the cookie and takes a delicious bite out of it, savoring the chocolate chips inside of his mouth. Meanwhile the younger brother watches him intensely with a thin line of saliva hanging out of his mouth. When Edward's eyes meet with Al, Al makes a grasping motion.

Edward doesn't want to attempt that stunt twice. They were lucky the first time but if Al was to fall . . .

He breaks off half of the cookie and gives it to his brother.

.Three.

When Alphonse sees a shooting star from outside his window he silently wishes for a kitten.

When Edward notices the shooting star also, he wishes for a kitten too, but not for himself.

.Four.

Edward holds up his creation with a large grin. Perfection. A perfect round body, a head, ears, and mouth, and four legs popping out from underneath the torso. The condition of his cow is great. Thank goodness he excels in alchemy!

Alphonse is a year younger and his skills aren't as honed as his older brother's. One of the back legs is sticking out at an awkward angle and it only has one ear.

"My horse is kinda' bad . . . " laments Al.

"You'll do better next time," encourages Edward.

"This was supposed to be for Winry," the younger Elric groans. "Her birthday is in two days and I haven't been able to make a decent one yet."

Swallowing his pride he holds out his own product. "Take it," He says quickly.

"Really?"

"But only this once," grumbles Ed. "You'll be better next year."

With a smile of gratitude Alphonse takes the cow. He's glad his older brother is looking out for him, otherwise Winry's collection of toys would be chock-full of misfits.

.Five.

Edward often relies on himself for protection. The eight year old hasn't too much trouble, just the odd argument at school and standing up for Alphonse and Winry, but otherwise he's adept at taking care of himself.

As he leaves the school he pays no attention at who's behind him. Alphonse is staying behind to help Ms. Wyatt clean off the chalkboard and wipe down the desks. He's always doing things like this and Ed knows Ms. Wyatt will escort his brother home so there's no problem in leaving him behind. As for Edward having someone accompany him home there's no need. He can take care of himself.

About five minutes into his walk back home he can see his house just down the road. He can't wait to gulp down sweet lemonade and read some alchemy books--

He's cut off from his thoughts when he hears a yell of shock from behind him. He swings around to see what's going on when he's astonished to see Al, whom he's not known to fight anyone, is wrestling with a boy three years older than him on the ground.

"Al! What are you doing!" Ed shouts, running the length to reach his brother. He shoves the older boy off and kicks him in the knee for good measure. He shouts maliciously, "Now go!"

The older boy seems too happy to oblige and scurries off, any idea of fighting either Elric brother left behind. He's limps away with a nick on his forehead to remind him of the short scuffle.

"What the heck was that?"

Al sits up breathing heavily. He stretches out his hand that is gripping a decent-size stone. When he catches his breath a moment later he clarifies, "He was going to throw this at you."

"What? Why?" Perplexion is evident on his face. He hardly knows that boy.

"'Cause Winry always wants to hang out with you and not him. He's really jealous," He explains. Edward scoffs at the ridiculous reason. "I overheard him talking to Thomas about it so I had to stop him. I even left Mrs. Wyatt at school. I couldn't let him."

"Well good job! You scared the crap out of him," congratulates Edward, sticking out a hand to help Alphonse stand up. With a proud grin he adds, "I guess I don't need to worry if I make enemies. I'll just send you after them."

.Six.

"Edward, drink your milk," sighs Trisha for the hundredth time. She sends the stubborn six year old a stern glare from over her shoulder, then she continues to clean the dishes.

Edward slumps down in his seat with a defeated look. He glares at the thick, white drink and wonders if he can somehow knock all of the repugnant liquid out before his mother rushes over to pick it up. Then again she'll probably refill his glass and demand he drinks it.

"I hate it," He mumbles childishly.

Alphonse notices his brother's plight. He looks at his mother who concentrates on the dishes and then, slowly and carefully, reaches out for his brother's glass. With wide eyes Ed watches as his brother gulps down the milk and then quickly sets it back, all before their mother can look back.

Edward is about to say something urgent to his little brother when Trisha comes over to hug her son and exclaims, "Oh Ed, I'm proud of you!"

To her left Al smiles. He's gotten away with it! He can't believe it!

From their mother's shoulder Edward doesn't have the same mask of pride. He looks like he wants to speak but is unable too.

When Trisha turns around to continue with her dishwashing her gaze settles upon Alphonse. This means their cover's blown.

"Al, you know better," she reprimands him and goes to the fridge to retrieve the milk. "I can't believe you would try to trick me and drink your brother's milk for him. I'm not trying to be mean either, Ed, it's good for you."

As she pours her older son a drink Edward finally satisfies his brother's confusion. "Milk mustache, dummy," He deadpans, left in the same position he was before only minutes ago, staring down a full glass of milk.

.Seven.

Trisha has become accustomed to one of the boys joining her in her bed. It's supposed to hold two people, after all, and when one crawls in whether from a bad nightmare or just needing their mother's comfort, she is always happy to let them share.

She expects Alphonse to join her yet again in bed, since he's been for the last four nights, and she's hesitant to send him back tonight since he should get used to his own bed by now. He's almost seven after all and spends too much time in his mother's bed for no other reason than he feels uncomfortable in his own bed. Trisha wonders if he realizes this and is tentative about joining her for a fifth night. Just to make sure she walks quietly over to her sons' room and cracks the door.

The sight she see's will always remain in the forefront of her memory. Apparently Al has found another approach and is sleeping in bed with Edward. His pudgy hand is clutching Ed's shirt and his head buried deep into Ed's side (Al has always been a clinger when he sleeps, she thinks to herself). Ed is sleeping on his back, his feet stretched over Al's legs. It's awkward positioning but both of them are sleeping contently so they don't mind if they're so close with eachother.

She would take a picture but she doesn't want to wake them up. Her memory is good enough.

.Eight.

"Do you get your own star when you die?" Al asks his brother. His legs swing in the open air beneath him from where he sits in the tire swing.

"I guess that's why there are so many stars in the sky," says Edward. "A lot of people die so there must be . . . " He seems to stop to mentally count the numbers but the seven year old settles on, "A kaprillion."

"Kaprillion isn't a number," argues Al.

"Then why is there a kaprillion stars in the sky?" he retorts.

Al puffs out his cheeks in frustration but then leaves it at that. Letting his cheeks deflate he asks, "Do you think our stars will be close?"

"They have to be," he states. "I don't want to have to search a kaprillion stars in the sky just to find you."

"If you do have to search I'll be the one yelling 'Brother' so you know I'm there. Just find me quick, okay?"

"Okay."

With this afterlife matter settled they continue their star-gazing is silence.

.Nine.

Alphonse stares down at the photograph of him, his father, his brother, and his mother in his hands. He's pretty sure he and Edward is the only ones without a father on Fathers Day. The seven year old wants to dispise his father for this, just like Ed does, but what if he comes back? What will happen to that hatred? Would it disappear?

It's easier to love him, thinks Al.

Only when someone snatches the photo right out of his hand is he tugged out of his reverie. "Ed! Give that back!" He demands, reaching for it but Edward only steps back to avoid his little brother's grabbing hands.

"You shouldn't be looking at this," Ed says angrily, handing it back to Al, who clutches it tightly to his chest as though he expects Ed to grab it back at any moment. "It'll only make you sad, just like Mom."

"I miss him," mutters Al. "It's like we're the only one's without a dad."

"Winry doesn't have a dad," reminds Ed, "and she's doing just fine. So are we. We don't need him."

Al snaps, "Well maybe you don't, but I do! I don't even remember him! It's not fair!"

"No, it's not," agrees Edward somberly.

A tear rolls down Al's cheek but he rubs it away, ashamed of his obvious emotions. "I know you don't miss him brother but I can't help it. I want a dad."

Edward puts a comforting hand on his younger brother's head and ruffles his hair. "Let's go play," offers Ed.

Al looks down at his photograph, then up at his brother, then sets the picture down beside him on his bed and follows Ed to go play. He doubts his father is ever going to come back as much as he hates to admit it. His father has already stolen countless hours away from Al where he's grieving, but he's going not going to allow him to steal any more, which he can will spending with his brother.

.Ten.

One year old Edward Elric doesn't truly understand what's going on. He often clutches onto his father's shirt, trying to communicate his question "Where is Mom?", but it only comes out as gibberish to Hoenheim. He gets the gist of it, putting Edward's sudden unruliness and Trisha's absence together, since he has only seen Trisha for short amounts of time because of Alphonse's birth. Hoenheim wants his wife to be able to bond with Al in relative silence, so he's been stuck with Edward for the better part of four days. This also means Edward hasn't been able to be introduced to Al at length.

Not that Hoenheim is complaining. He enjoys spending time with his son, holding his small hands in his so he won't fall when he walks, and reading him bed time stories so he'll drift off into slumber.

On the fifth day after Alphonse's birth, Trisha asks Hoenheim to bring in Edward so he can visit again.

"Let him get to know his brother," Trisha says with a prideful smile. "Our children so beautiful Hoenheim. Thank you for this gift."

He leans down and kisses her tenderly on her forehead. He then goes to fetch Edward from his crib in which he's taking an afternoon nap. He scoops up the sleepy one year old and takes him into Trisha's room where he sits down in a chair next to the bed.

"Edward, say hi to Al," instructs Hoenheim, holding him in his lap and facing his mother and newborn brother.

Edward blinks his large golden eyes in curiosity. He leans forward, inspecting the bundle in the mess of blankets against his mother's chest, where he can see a chubby face with a content look upon it. Alphonse is sleeping and he wonders where this thing came from.

"It's your little brother," says Trisha. She brings out a hand even tinier than Edward's. "Do you want to hold his hand?"

Edward grasps Al's hand and squeezes with wonder and amazement in his eyes. The contact causes Al to stir and open his eyes, his drowsy gaze landing on his older brother, and he squeezes back.

"Awl," Edward speaks.

"That's right. It's Al." Trisha tries to take back her youngest son's hand but Edward's hold is tight, not wanting to let go of this new found happiness. She wants her other son to let go so she can feed Alphonse properly but he doesn't release.

"Let him hold his hand just a bit longer, Trisha," suggests Hoenheim. "He just found his little brother and doesn't want to let go, right Ed?"

Eventually he does have to let go but Edward looks forward to holding his hand at another time.

IIIII

Tell me what you think! I'm thinking that I should do more but I'd like to see some support for more drabbles. Suggestions? Thoughts?