Word count: 395
Prompt: sky_dark, Roy and Ed, newly domesticated and newly living together put together something from IKEA.
"You do know that there are people you can hire to do this for you?"
Ed didn't look up. Instead, he continued attempting to stare out the collection of bits of wood and metal, as if they were engaged in some kind of mano a mano stand-off. Knowing Ed, he probably thought they were.
Roy continued. "No, you really can. I saw an ad in the paper the other week. There are these little one-man companies, and they come around on a motor scooter and do it all for you in an hour!" Freeing up your evening for important things, like dinner, intelligent conversation and getting screwed over the end of your new sofa.
"No!" Ed folded his arms and transferred his glare, briefly, to Roy. "I can do this, dammit. I'm the Fullmetal-fucking-Alchemist. I can break down and reassemble matter at a molecular level!
I will not be beaten by a frickin' coffee table!"
Roy sighed heavily, sat next to him on the floor, and leafed through the instruction booklet. It bore cheerful, word-free cartoons of two smiling stick-men inserting doohickey A into slot B and then wiggling it around with an allen key. Roy didn't understand a shred of it.
"Or," Roy added, "maybe I'm right and this thing came with two left panels rather than a left and a right."
"No," said Ed, "I told you, they're supposed to be the same!" He punctuated this by upending one of the pieces in question, sticking it on top of the upside-down tabletop on the floor, and attempting, again, to hammer doohickey A into slot B with an automail fist.
The piece wobbled, and almost immediately fell over.
"Would you like a hand?" asked Roy blandly.
"What I want," said Ed, jabbing a finger at him, "is for you to stop distracting me with stupid running commentary and leave me alone."
If Roy was a better man, he wouldn't have been so pleased to retreat and leave his beloved to it. But he wasn't.
From the hall, he heard Ed's voice bellowing. "All right, you third-rate piece of wood-veneered self-assembly crap! I'll show you the difference between us!"
Roy sighed, hefted the telephone receiver and wondered if Hawkeye or Havoc would be up for an evening in the pub.