I went shoe shopping a while ago, and I ended up getting two pair of tennis shoes that both added an inch to my height. I'm not a very tall person, but unlike Ed, I love being short (most of the time; I often get used as a leaning post). The first thing I thought when I saw how much taller the shoes made me was, They're like Ed's elevator shoes! So this fanfiction was spawned by that thought. Enjoy!

Naturally, Ed was used to the short jokes from anyone who discovered his height was a sore spot. That didn't mean he liked ranting back at them and bringing them down to his level for a quick facial makeover – with his automail fist if he was having a particularly bad day. In fact, Ed made a fantastic effort to make himself appear taller to avoid the jests sent his way.

Such efforts included a beloved pair of black boots with red rubber soles.

The first time he had worn them, Winry called them tacky. Ed had argued with her until Al cut in with:

"Brother, that fact that you are wearing elevator shoes means you know that you're short."

"I'm not short!"

Winry tapped his head with a wrench. "Even with those boots you're still shorter than me."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Alphonse half laughed, "You know she's right, Brother."

Ed growled. "Aw, c'mon, Al! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"How can I when you're so obviously wrong?" Al teased. Ed jumped toward him and Al escaped through the front door.

Ed raced after him screeching, "You come back here you big tin can. Don't make me get out the can opener!"

In short, Ed's attempt to gain height using shoes hadn't gone well; but in time those around him got used to it and let him boost his little ego using red rubber soles and black leather. At least they matched his flashy red coat and black clothes.

From the time he bought them, Ed never wore any other shoes. They carried him over train cars and filled with sand in the desert. They stomped through Mustang's office and sat to the side of his hospital bed. They tiptoed through "abandoned" buildings and scampered down winding streets. Where Ed went, he always wore those faithful boots. So it surprised no one to hear Ed grumbling in the hospital after learning his boots had been melted beyond repair in the puddle of acidic goo during his most recent mission.

"They weren't that bad," Ed folded his arms and leaned back against his pillows with a humph – only to wince at the sudden motion. Hadn't the doctor said something about a minor concussion? Well, that explained the headache. "I could've salvaged them."

"Yeah, right after letting your feet burn in acid." Mustang gestured to the blankets covering Ed's mutilated appendages. Thanks to the thick soles of his shoes, Ed had been saved from any serious damage. The doctors had already wrapped up his flesh foot, and with a bit of metal from the bed's end railing – no one would miss it, right? – Ed repaired the slight disfiguration to his automail foot. Winry would throw wrenches when she saw the patch-up job, but Ed felt rather proud of it considering his limited mechanical knowledge.

"You need to be more careful on your missions," Mustang chided. Behind the Colonel, Al stayed quiet, but Ed could hear him mentally agreeing. "You have only been a state certified alchemist for two years and yet you have cost the state more than any other alchemist in that same amount of time. If you are going to keep destroying labs full of dangerous chemicals clearly marked not to be mixed then maybe you should be filling out your own paperwork." Although Mustang spoke in a sincerely annoyed tone, the angry words weren't marred with malice.

"Yeah, yeah," Ed spoke nonchalantly. "It's all about you and your paperwork." Mustang didn't deny it. "What about sending me on missions that aren't so dangerous, or maybe ones that actually have the real Philosopher's Stone at the end of them?" He continued griping even as a nurse came in to check his vitals and rewrap his foot. "And since this time was a false lead –again – I'm going to have to go on more pointless missions. How am I supposed to do that if I'm barefoot!"

Mustang raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?" He appeared genuinely surprised. "You're not upset that you are stuck in the hospital for a week, and you aren't angry that the mission was a failure–"

"Not my fault!"

"–You're upset because you don't have any shoes?" Mustang laughed derisively and commented, "Oh, stop being such a girl, Fullmetal."

"Says Mr. Miniskirt," said Ed, smirking.

"You weren't even there when I said that."

"Everyone in Central knows it."

"And here I thought rumors sailed over your head."

"Are you implying that I'm short?"

Mustang tipped his chin in an amused manner. "I don't believe that word ever crossed my lips."

Ed growled ill-temperedly, still miffed.

"Brother," Al spoke up from the other side of the room. He made himself as small as possible to stay out of the nurse's way as she finished re-bandaging Ed's foot. "I'm sure one of the stores in Central will have something you'll like. We can go shopping after you're discharged from the hospital."

Ed sat up and looked at Mustang with a suddenly contrite and pleading look. "How 'bout signing an early discharge form, Colonel?"

"After insulting me with the miniskirt comment?" Mustang smirked, obviously reveling in Ed's scowl, "Fullmetal, your audacity is simply shocking."

Gold eyes flickered to Al expectantly, but Al waved his hands, "Oh, no! I'm not sneaking you out or carrying you anywhere. You need to stay here and get better."

Before Ed attempted to do the impossible and sweet talk the nurse, she flippantly informed him on the way out the door that if he so much as let his injured foot touch the floor, she would requisition the doctor to strap him in bed until he healed.

"The whole world is against me!" Ed flopped back melodramatically, throwing his flesh arm over his eyes.

Mustang's heavy boots clomped across the floor. He followed the nurse out. "Al," he called back, "take care of your brother."

When the Colonel's footsteps disappeared, Ed peeked under his arm at Al. Alphonse knew exactly what his brother wanted and deflected the silent request, "Not a chance, Brother. No one would let me leave without checking inside my armor first or at least making sure you were in the room." Al settled against the wall.

Ed huffed and moved his arm back over his eyes. "You're no fun."

"'Fred's Footware'", Ed read off the sign. "Couldn't have picked a better name, eh?" he said sardonically.

Behind him, Al spoke with patiently responded, "I called every shoe store in Central and this was the only place that sounded like they might sell boots like yours."

Ed crossed his arms and glared at the display window. "Are you sure this will be easier than buying the materials to transmute another pair?"

Alphonse sighed, "We've already been over the cost and calculations three times, Brother." He pushed Edward forward from behind. Ed yelped. "Now come on, stop whining. The sooner we find shoes you like the sooner you'll stop complaining about the standard military ones you're wearing."

"My complaints are valid!" Edward protested even as he let his little brother usher him inside. "These boots are loud, clunky, and too big."

Al released him inside and the two walked forward. Facing them were aisles and aisles of shoes on display – everything from a woman's slipper to a man's galoshes. Surely Ed's boot brand would be here.

"Let's get this over with," Edward meandered in the direction of men's boots. He yanked off his own combat boots on the way; with a metaphorical eye roll Alphonse collected them and placed them to the side where they wouldn't be tripped on. Without preamble, the shortest Elric began tugging down various boots from the shelves and scrutinizing each pair.

"Too big, too small, too new." He discarded each pair in a pile behind him as he went."Too stiff, too shiny, too black–"

"'Too black'?" Al asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Edward retrieved the pair of boots and pointed at the toes. "They're a whole shade darker than my old ones." He set them down firmly, "Too black."

"Too picky," Al muttered. In an effort to speed up the process, he glanced up and down the shelves as well. From the top shelf he pulled down a pair of shoes that, although not red soled, looked mockingly similar to Ed's beloved pair of boots. "How about these?" He held them out for examination.

Ed went through a few pairs before grabbing the proffered shoes. He gave them a rough examination and Al started to feel hopeful. But this was Ed, and though he looked interested, he eventually handed them back.

Al questioned expectantly, "Well, aren't you going to try them on?"

Without looking, Ed rejected them with a, "Nah," and went back to work on the shelves.

"Brother," Al chided, "If you don't at least try them on, how are you going to know if you really like them or not?" He set them down in front of his brother in the hope that he might change his mind.

"I don't have to put them on to know I don't like them." Ed gestured to the boots. "They look too tall, and they don't have any color to them. Just plain black." He set them aside.

"Fine," Al crossed bulky metal arms, "If you refuse to even try then we might as well ask for help. They do have assistants here for a reason."

"I don't need help," Ed said curtly. "I can find them on my own."

"Even if you have to tear down half the store to do it?" Al surmised.

"Exactly," Ed nodded.

Feeling innately that this would take a while, Al sat down and watched Ed pull down most of the boots on one side of the aisle before turning to the next. As he finished the second side, Ed stopped and sat dejectedly on the bench.

"There's nothing here!"

A young employee appearing at the head of the aisle. She smiled cheerily at the two boys. "Can I help you?"

"Yes please!" Al's tone pulled the young woman closer despite Ed mumbling in obstinate dissent.

Al nudged his brother, "Tell her what you want."

Grudgingly Ed described, "Well, I'm looking for a pair of Steel brand boots size eight and a half with red rubber soles and black leather tops. Got anything like that?"

From his spot on the ground, Al pointed out, "Brother, we're never going to find anything exactly like your old boots."

Ed turned on him while the young woman ran off, checking the stock. "Well, I'm not wearing anything else."

"We're going to be here forever," Al sighed.

The employee came back with several pair of boots. Ed sat down and inspected each pair as before with Al urging him to at least try a pair on to see how they felt. ("You might just like a different pair even if it doesn't look the same." Ed scowled, "I already told you: I'm not wearing anything else.")

Finishing the pile, Ed glanced up, "Is that all you have?"

Biting her lip at the difficulty Ed had produced, the employee opted to suggest a final resort. "You could look in clearance. We have a collection of second hand shoes that we sell half price along with clearance items. You might find something there."

Ed dragged his combat boots with him while Al apologized for the mess left in the aisle. Only one other person riffled through the bin alongside him. Ed paid him no mind until he realized what the kid had fished out of the sea of rubber and leather.

"Perfect!" the boy held up a pair of black leather boots with thick rubber soles. "These'll be good for working in the field."

Ed stared in horror. Field work? This kid was going to wear perfectly sturdy boots like these while farming? Did he know how long Ed had been searching for these exact shoes? (A half hour wasn't forever, but hey, for an impatient alchemist like Ed, it felt like a lifetime.)

"HEY!" Edward jabbed a finger at the boy. "I need those."

"Finders keepers," he returned.

Knowing it was childish beyond compare, Ed snatched one boot out of the boy's hands, "Losers weepers."

The boy might have had the same size feet, but Ed swore he was at least two years older and, though he was loathe to admit it, a good half foot taller. He gathered up all the height he could to look like an even match, but when the boy snagged the toe of the hijacked boot, Ed suddenly found that height didn't add up to much in a tug-of-war.

"These are mine!"

"No, they're MINE!"

"Brother, really?!" Al broke Ed's concentration, and he cursed as the boy tore the boot away with a final jerk. Lacking dignity, Ed flashed a cranky scowl. He started to get up and try again, but something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

He grinned evilly.

"Equivalent exchange," Ed pointed at the boy. "I'll sell you my authentic State Alchemist military boots. In exchange, you hand over those," he pointed to the boots, "without a fuss."

"You don't have any boots," the boy frowned. "You're barefoot."

"Brilliant observation," Ed deadpanned sardonically before summoning false enthusiasm and waving a hand at his combat boots behind him. "These are mine, and I'll sell them for the same price as these," he repeated.

The boy looked only partially swayed. Skeptically he cornered, "You're just a shrimpy kid–"

Ed's body flinched violently as he suppressed a rant.

"–so how could you possibly be in the military, let alone be a State Alchemist?"

With a flourish, Ed showed off his watch. The employee watching by Al gasped and ran to the manager manning the cash register. The boy looked mildly impressed and shrugged. "Whatever," he tossed the boot over and Ed smirked.

"Thought you'd see it my way."

While the boy paid up, the manager took out a bright red marker and wrote a new figure over the clearance bin price tag – a number double the previous.

Combat boots in hand, the boy glanced back and sneered. "Those boots are stupid looking anyway."

Ed poked out his tongue childishly and pulled his prize on without care. He wiggled his toes and frowned.

"Something wrong, Brother?" Al asked.

He brought the sole of one boot close to his face. "Size nine. Humph, oh well. I'll grow into them."

"Why is it so important that you have these shoes?"

Nonchalantly, Ed replied, "I like the way they look, and they go well with my signature look."

There was a long pause.

"That's it?!" Al exclaimed in exasperated disbelief. "You wrecked the whole boot aisle and got into a fight looking for these just because you like the way they look? That's silly."

Ed ignored the jibe and placed his hands on his hips. "Reasons are always simple, Al. No need to overcomplicate things."

The manager opened his register, catching their attention, "Now about the price…" he pointed out the new figure written, knowing how much Ed wanted the boots and how he could still afford them due to his military status.

Ed groaned, lowering his head into his palm, "This is going to cost me a small fortune, isn't it?"

"He just wants equivalent exchange, Brother: the boots mean a lot to you so you can pay as much," Al teased, "No reason to complicate things."

Ed produced his stash of cenz from his pocket.

If only life were really so simple.

I recently watched the FMA OVA "Simple People" so the ending was inspired by that. If you haven't seen that OVA yet, you should. It's funny and cute, but the end left me shocked by the profoundness of it all.

-Dante