When Ed returned from an overnight trip sporting a black eye and a sour face, Winry found she could only sigh. 

            “Again?” She walked over to the couch Ed had claimed in the shop’s waiting area and sat by him, putting on her own sour face.

            “I didn’t start it!” Ed defended.

             “You never start it,” said Winry.

            “I finished it.”

            “Good,” Winry grunted, still imitating Ed’s sour face.

            Ed didn’t look at her.  “Your face will stick that way.”

            “Yours hasn't yet.” 

            Daring a glance, Ed saw the corners of her mouth twitch.  He promptly began to pout even more ferociously.

            Winry followed suit.

            Never one to pass up a challenge, Ed twisted his face into a terrible snarl.

            Turning, Winry looked at his snarl and then leaned over until her forehead touched his.  Eye to eye with Ed, she growled.

            Ed blinked.  “That was pretty good.”

            Still there, Winry attempted another snarl, but failed.  Instead, a snicker escaped her lips.

            Ed snorted.

            In seconds, both of them had dissolved into laughter.

           Standing nervously in the doorway, Winry’s next patient stared at the pair,  “What are they doing?” 

            Beside him, Al just shook his head. “Being themselves,” he answered.