(no subject)
Here are the drabbles I wrote for the Request post. I do intend to finish 'em all, I just haven't had time. (I'm moving out on Saturday, and Kazaera's flitting back and forth between Germany and internet-less Scotland. She's in Germany, with the 'net, right now, though! ^_^)
anax; Ed/Scar, 'morning'
Mornings, with Edward Elric, are hell. There aren't many of them, thankfully - when one is living the life of a fugitive, like Scar, then one tends not to have a home to go back to, and it is rare that Edward stays with him beyond the sex. Neither of them are particularly inclined towards post-coital cuddling, either, and as soon as he had his breath back Edward would be pulling his pants back up, fastening the fly, while Scar watched quietly.
"You could stay," he says, as he does every time.
"Why the hell would I want to?" Ed snaps, spiky voice and his movements jerky and sharp, and Scar wonders why the boy has to be so... hostile. Scar had not chosen him as a partner, after all; it'd been the boy who had accosted Scar, had persuaded him to defile the most holy of Ishvara's teachings.
"I just..." he cannot find the words and shrugs, instead, watching the boy wipe some incriminating evidence of his activites from his chin. "... Never mind. Go on, then, Edward Elric. Go."
Ed gives him a suspicious look, shoving his metal arm into the sleeve of his red coat so hard he seems in danger of ripping something. "You're fucking weird," he says, tucking his silver watch back into his pocket, "but whatever. See you next week."
He pivots, his blond braid flying out behind him, and it is only when he is gone that Scar realises that he would like to see morning, with the boy still by his side.
burnfrenchies; Ed/Al, 'umbrella'
"I can't," Al said, leather fingers gently closing around the curved wooden handle. "Brother, you take it. It's okay, rain won't damage the seal - "
"It might!" Edward snapped, shoving the umbrella back towards his younger sibling. He was sopping wet already, his bangs plastered to his face and his clothes dripping; his boots squelched with every footstep. "Beisdes, I'm wet enough already. What good's an umbrella gonna do me now, huh? But you rust, Al. Just take the bloody thing."
"But - " Al set a gauntlet on top of his brother's head, ruffling his hair. "I can't, brother, you look so miserable... I couldn't take it away from you, I - "
Ed was looking at him in a funny way, and Alphonse found himself shifting from foot to foot. "Well," his brother said, "This seems to be a hell of a stalemate. Tell you what, this is what we're gonna do."
Half an hour later Alphonse wandered down the high street. He cut an odd sight - a seven-foot-tall suit of armour clutching a tiny blue umbrella over his head, as though the slightest bit of rain might damage something precious. Luckily, nobody could know about the long-haired blond curled inside the armour, his arms wrapped around his knees and drying off slowly in his makeshift shelter.
Alphonse was just grateful that he could help his stubborn elder brother.
arislanchan; Ed/Al, 'spatula'
Edward Elric was many things. A devoted brother, a wonderful and gentle (if somewhat overly cautious) lover, a loyal friend; he was all these things and so many more, so many more. And Al loved him very much, and was willing to put up with a lot of things, but sometimes... you had to make an exception.
"OUT of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
"But I'm hungry," Ed whined, leaning away from the offending implement. "How long is it going to take?"
"Half an hour, I said! Now go away and stop pestering me every five minutes - "
Ed dodged another half-hearted swipe with the spatula and ducked inside it the arc of the swing, ending up practically nose-to-nose with his younger brother. "No," he said, and leaned in to close the few inches between them, pressing their lips together as softly as he could. Al felt his eyelashes fluttering shut, and tipped his head back; opened his mouth and let his brother's tongue inside, as his body, feeling strangely warm, melted into Ed's.
"Brother," he whispered when they parted and Ed nuzzled their faces together, noses brushing. "I love you, you know."
"I know," Ed replied with a smile, leaning in to place a smaller, more chaste peck on Al's lips. "The food's burning."
"WHAT?"
"... Just kidding."
"BROTHER - "
"OW! I'm going, I'm going, just put the bloody spatula down!"
Al watched his brother beat a hasty retreat up the stairs, his teeth bared in a snarl of warning, and went back to the food. It was only when his face was tipped down, peering into the contents of the saucepan, and knowing that he was utterly alone, that he allowed himself to smile.
Edward Elric was many things; 'difficult' and 'occasionally annoying' were just two of them. Luckily they were counter-balanced by the words 'a good kisser'.
devils_devotion; Roy/Al, 'karma'
Sex with Al is a lot like - well, like not having sex with Fullmetal, Roy muses idly. Whereas Fullmetal would (probably) be rough, Alphonse likes things slow and affectionate and gentle; whereas Fullmetal refused - refused to allow himself to be seduced, Alphonse practically fell over in his rush to catch Roy's eye.
It is, he supposes, as Alphonse's fingers dig into his hips, a sort of cosmic revenge. He'd sworn Fullmetal would be the last (and the last what? The last innocent? The last blond? The last child?) in his bed, but no sooner was Edward out of the picture than Alphonse took his place, all childish smiles (he hadn't yet lost the baby fat from his cheeks) and cautious fingers mixed with an onset of hormones that was nothing short of devestating. Karma, he supposes, is the name for it, this urge, these children; but he has always hated placing the blame for his own failings on nonexistant phenonema - God, society, karma, you name it. He doesn't intend to start now.
"Aah - oh god," Alphonse hisses, head lolling back and dark blond hair shifting, glinting in the light. "More - more, please, more - ah!"
No, karma is not to blame for Alphonse's presence. Roy supposes the answer must be that he is simply an incurable pederast.
... Like that makes it any better, he thinks darkly as Alphonse's free hand rakes across the sheets, nails seeking something to cling onto; but at least it's ultimately a more entertaining excuse than 'because karma made me do it'.
okamihoshi; Ed/Al, 'explode'
The two boys were wrapped around each other on the narrow bed, mouths firmly locked together and hands roaming over smooth skin.
"Brother," Alphonse gasped, the words swallowed by his brother's mouth. He flung his head back, breaking the contact; arched his spine and moaned as his brother's hand slid up over the curve of his hip, through the hollow and over, to loosely wrap around his cock. The younger Elric was hard already; Ed swiped his thumb over the head, smearing the pre-come gathered there over the digit, and proceeded to gently circle the shaft before pumping, with the aid of this new lubricant.
Al clung onto his older brother's shoulders and gasped, teeth locked together, eyes narrow slits of bronze focused solely on his brother's face, even the pleasure lazily curling through his belly like one of those Xing dragons not enough to distract him.
"Brother," he whispered, licked his lips. "Brother, I'm going to - "
The hand on his cock moved faster, Ed's fingers flexing to brush over his balls on the next downwards stoke, and something bolted up along his spine, fogging his brain with a cloud of something warm, and soft. The dragon in his belly shot to life, digging its claws in, and Al canted his head back and just gasped helplessly as it tore through his body, igniting all his nerves, bringing him closer and closer to some invisible edge - he wasn't going to come, he was going to explode at this rate, and he could feel his back arching as he slung to his brother's back, trying to pull then closer and closer together - and Ed had slipped his free arm underneath his back to support him but oh, god, his hand was still on Al's cock, still stroking and fondling and carassing until, with a helpless yelp, Al came into his brother's palm with a sudden rush, a shuddering exhalation that gave away none of the feelings inside him.
"You okay?" Ed said, lowering him back to the bed, and Al wrapped his arms around his brother's neck and closed his eyes. Ed smelled like soap, sweat, books and faintly of oil; his blond hair was ticklish and clung to Ed's bare skin. He smelled distinctly of himself, somehow; a sharp, comfortable scent.
"I'm fine," Al whispered, and kissed him. "Just fine."
Ed's teeth flashed in a grin, and his brother brushed their noses together. "Well," he replied, casually. "That's good to hear."
"Mmm." They lay wrapped up in each other, the silence comfortable and warm, like the blankets their mother had tucked them up in back home when it was winter and they'd come in from a snowball fight; Alphonse closed his eyes and concentrated just on listing to his brother's breathing, on feeling Ed's skin against his.
This, he thought, was the best sensation in the world. There could be no better, because Ed loved him and -
"So," Ed interrupted his internal monolgue with, hopefully. "Is it my turn now?"
Caught between two choices of action, Al settled for just heaving a sigh and shifting to reach for his brother's own erection, still unattended and desperate. Really, he thought wrly, Ed had no sense of the romantic.
azysapphy; Ed/Al, 'poof'
It was three weeks, four days, and six hours after his last phone call that Edward Elric rapped on the door of their tiny little home, nestled into the suburbs of Central.
Al had been doing the laundry at the time, and so it took him a while to answer the door; with a damp sheet in his hands, he undid the latch and just stared at the slender figure on the doorstep.
"Brother?" he'd whispered, despite himself, and Ed had smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. "What are you doing - why didn't you call - I don't - "
"Sorry," Ed said flippantly, stepping over the threshold of the doorframe, and shifted his suitcase to his metal hand. It seemed dirtier than normal, with three times the number of dents; Al eyed it cautiously, and scowled as his brother headed straight for the kitchen.
"You should call me next time!" Al snapped, following him. "It was three weeks - I was so worried, brother!"
"I forgot," Ed replied casually, dumping his suitcase on the floor and crouching to undo the latches. "Look, I wrote you a letter last week, okay?"
"I haven't received it," Al retorted stiffly. "And anyway, brother, the point is that you're still an irresponsible, incredibly annoying - oh, don't give me that look. You come home once every month or so, stay for a few days, and then - poof!" He made an expressive gesture with his arms, not removing his glare from Ed's face. "- You disappear again. Can't you just ask for some time on leave? Please? I'd like to - you know, spend some time with you."
"I've tried," Ed said, voice muffled by the sandwich he'd crammed into his mouth, and continued to raid the cupboard. "But no luck, Al. I gotta be a good dog for a bit longer. Soon's the military snap their fingers - poof, I reappear where they want me to."
He swallowed the sandwich and sighed, turning back to Al. "I'm sorry," he said, cupping his little brother's jaw with his good hand, and bought their mouths together. "My contract comes up for review in six months, Al. Can you wait that long? 'cause believe me, it's hell for me spending all this time without you."
Al blushed - he couldn't help himself - and looked away. "Let's hope they release you," he said quietly. "It would really suck if they just want to renew it, brother."
Ed kicked off his boots, his one hand still gently following the curve of Al's jaw, his other resting on his little brother's shoulder. "I know," he said, and leaned in for another kiss. "That's why -" and Al yipped in surprise as he was bucked up against the wall, his brother a warm presence practically draped over him - "I should just enjoy the time I have left."
Alphonse couldn't argue with that.
ekoko; Roy/Ed/Al, 'heavy'
"Roy," Ed said, his voice soft in the silence and muffled partially by Alphonse, curled against his side.
"Mmm?"
"Get off me." Ed gave the man a shove with his metal arm, but failed to budge him, and settled for heaving an annoyed sigh at the ceiling. "You're heavy, you useless bastard, so get off me."
Roy raised his head from here he'd been drowsing on Ed's chest; brows drawing together. His rapier wit was somewhat at a disadvantage without its fuel of caffeine, but he nevertheless drew himself together and managed to grind out, "I'm sorry, Fullmetal, but you were so small I mistook you for a pillow."
"Oh, FUCK YOU."
"I already have. Would you like me to do it again?"
"BASTARD - "
"Brother, Roy, be quiet!" Al snarled, raising his face just slightly, and both combatants obeyed, albeit with a lot of grumbling.
It wasn't hard to see who was the master of this relationship.
aya_katsera; Ed/Al, 'necklace'
Alphonse awakes late that morning, snuggled up between two layers of blanket and with his brother curled warm at his back, breathing heavily through his mouth. And for a moment, he is content to just lie there, lazy, body lax and content, and just enjoy the gentle peace. The moment before Ed wakes up and life would be filled with noise is always the best, in his opinion.
His brother is too close for him to risk getting out of bed without waking Ed, but that's okay. The sky through their window is a dark grey, and he watches it for a few minutes before he realises that it's snowing, the white flakes stark against the dull background.
For a while, as he watches the delicate whirling dance, all he can think of is wonderment - it is near-tradition, after all, for it to snow on his brother's birthday; a tradition his brother bitches about, when his automail aches too much for him to go outside and play like he had when he was twelve. Things have changed since then, Al thinks, have changed and shifted and - gone, as they've grown up. When they were children, Ed's birthday involved gifts waiting at the foot of his bed, skates slung around their necks as they ran back from the frozen lake with ears and fingers numb from the cold. Birthday cake, the candles lit and their mother standing behind it, smiling. Stuffing themselves sick and bickering over height, comparing the new gifts with previous; Winry, not hitting Ed with anything all day.
That's gone now, Al thinks, and stretches. The only gift waiting in Edward's bed in recent years has been his brother, naked and warm and entirely his, throughout the day; this time, there'll be something else. It's not every day that the Fullmetal Alchemist turns thirty five, after all.
Ed stirs against his back - raises his face, his hair mussed and his eyes vague and unfocused. He blinks at Al owlishly a few times, and with a sigh, the younger Elric leans over his elder sibling to fetch that sibling's glasses. "Here," he says, handing them over, and curls up to his brother as Ed puts them on. "Happy birthday," he whispers, against Ed's throat, and the Fullmetal Alchemist grins, still a little sleep-dazed.
"Thanks," he says, cracks a yawn and stretches his good arm out above his head. "Mmm. What time is it?"
Al shrugs. "No idea," he whispers, and pushes himself up, away from the line of his brother's body. "I bought a gift for you."
"Huh?" Ed blinks at him, golden eyes bright, and then blushes. "You shouldn't've, Al - I mean, I didn't get you anything - "
"Just shut up and appreciate it," Al replies, evenly, shoving the small brightly-coloured package at him. Ed takes it, stares at it, and then, metal hand moving slowly, unties the green ribbon; the gold wrapping paper follows shortly after, and he frowns at the little thing, brows drawing together.
"Al?"
"Open it," Al encourages, heady with excitement and leaning over his brother's shoulder. "Go on!"
Ed pulls a face - "Ugh, you're bossy - " and winces when he receives a punch on the shoulder; and gently, his metal fingers tug the tiny blue box open, revealing the glittering silver necklace on its navy cushion. "Al - this is - ?"
He runs an automail finger so slowly over the lines of the flamel, wrought in minature, his lips parted a little in silent wonderment. "This is - gorgeous."
"I made it," Al says, cheerfully. "I bought the necklace and then I made it into the right shape - I thought you'd like it, isn't it pretty? I know you're not a - girl, and I know you don't wear jewelry, but - "
Ed gently lifts the delicate thing out, snaps the tiny box closed and kisses him, gentle and soft. "It doesn't matter," he says, with a grin. "I'd wear it even if it was hideous, Al, 'cause you made it. Help me put it on?"
Al does the clasp slowly, his fingers gentle on his brother's skin, and presses a kiss against the nape of Ed's neck when he is done. "Happy birthday," he whispers, "my brother."
Ed's soft smile, barely visible in the dim light of the overcast sky, is enough to make it all worth it.
shido; Ed/Al/Envy, 'novel'
Understanding Edward is a lot like reading a fucking picture book, Envy thinks, sourly, as he scuttles up the drainpipe of the tiny house with ease. The kid is loud, and brash; easy to understand, manipulate. Bully. He wears his heart (and his weak points) on his sleeve; practically walks around with a sign that says 'break my little brother to break me'.
Alphonse, though... Alphonse is more like a novel. High classical. Stupid confusing prose, dancing around the subject at its core. He seems so foolishly simple - hah hah, look-at-me, I'm fucking my older brother but I'm still cute and innocent and fucking dumb - but he's not, he's something else. Complex. Good with his fists - probably good in bed, too, from what Envy can hear when he lies in wait on the rooftop, listening.
He's not supposed to attack them just yet. Dante forbade it; she has plans for these two, even now that Hohenheim's spawn have suceeded in their precious goal. He's not supposed to attack them and he doesn't, because she will punish him to the extent where even the pleasure of seeing the two dead will mean nothing, and he doesn't want that.
No, he thinks, leaning over the guttering to watch from the window of their bedroom as Ed flips the bedside light out. He can see perfectly well in the dark; watches the two touch each other and giggle in embarassment with a bored sense of hate burning behind his eyes. He hates that they're so happy, hates that they have everything he can't. Hates the way they kiss, the affectionate away they nuzzle each other; hates them with the malicious fury that had once led Lust to remark on how he should've been born Wrath, not Envy.
He wants to hurt them both, wants to rip them apart and possess them in a way Greed wouldn't've cared about. Wants to take one and hurt him in front of the other, wants to destroy them both.
But he can't, and so he doesn't. Because picture book or novel, either way; he's banned from burning the lovely crisp pages.
anax; Ed/Scar, 'morning'
Mornings, with Edward Elric, are hell. There aren't many of them, thankfully - when one is living the life of a fugitive, like Scar, then one tends not to have a home to go back to, and it is rare that Edward stays with him beyond the sex. Neither of them are particularly inclined towards post-coital cuddling, either, and as soon as he had his breath back Edward would be pulling his pants back up, fastening the fly, while Scar watched quietly.
"You could stay," he says, as he does every time.
"Why the hell would I want to?" Ed snaps, spiky voice and his movements jerky and sharp, and Scar wonders why the boy has to be so... hostile. Scar had not chosen him as a partner, after all; it'd been the boy who had accosted Scar, had persuaded him to defile the most holy of Ishvara's teachings.
"I just..." he cannot find the words and shrugs, instead, watching the boy wipe some incriminating evidence of his activites from his chin. "... Never mind. Go on, then, Edward Elric. Go."
Ed gives him a suspicious look, shoving his metal arm into the sleeve of his red coat so hard he seems in danger of ripping something. "You're fucking weird," he says, tucking his silver watch back into his pocket, "but whatever. See you next week."
He pivots, his blond braid flying out behind him, and it is only when he is gone that Scar realises that he would like to see morning, with the boy still by his side.
burnfrenchies; Ed/Al, 'umbrella'
"I can't," Al said, leather fingers gently closing around the curved wooden handle. "Brother, you take it. It's okay, rain won't damage the seal - "
"It might!" Edward snapped, shoving the umbrella back towards his younger sibling. He was sopping wet already, his bangs plastered to his face and his clothes dripping; his boots squelched with every footstep. "Beisdes, I'm wet enough already. What good's an umbrella gonna do me now, huh? But you rust, Al. Just take the bloody thing."
"But - " Al set a gauntlet on top of his brother's head, ruffling his hair. "I can't, brother, you look so miserable... I couldn't take it away from you, I - "
Ed was looking at him in a funny way, and Alphonse found himself shifting from foot to foot. "Well," his brother said, "This seems to be a hell of a stalemate. Tell you what, this is what we're gonna do."
Half an hour later Alphonse wandered down the high street. He cut an odd sight - a seven-foot-tall suit of armour clutching a tiny blue umbrella over his head, as though the slightest bit of rain might damage something precious. Luckily, nobody could know about the long-haired blond curled inside the armour, his arms wrapped around his knees and drying off slowly in his makeshift shelter.
Alphonse was just grateful that he could help his stubborn elder brother.
arislanchan; Ed/Al, 'spatula'
Edward Elric was many things. A devoted brother, a wonderful and gentle (if somewhat overly cautious) lover, a loyal friend; he was all these things and so many more, so many more. And Al loved him very much, and was willing to put up with a lot of things, but sometimes... you had to make an exception.
"OUT of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
"But I'm hungry," Ed whined, leaning away from the offending implement. "How long is it going to take?"
"Half an hour, I said! Now go away and stop pestering me every five minutes - "
Ed dodged another half-hearted swipe with the spatula and ducked inside it the arc of the swing, ending up practically nose-to-nose with his younger brother. "No," he said, and leaned in to close the few inches between them, pressing their lips together as softly as he could. Al felt his eyelashes fluttering shut, and tipped his head back; opened his mouth and let his brother's tongue inside, as his body, feeling strangely warm, melted into Ed's.
"Brother," he whispered when they parted and Ed nuzzled their faces together, noses brushing. "I love you, you know."
"I know," Ed replied with a smile, leaning in to place a smaller, more chaste peck on Al's lips. "The food's burning."
"WHAT?"
"... Just kidding."
"BROTHER - "
"OW! I'm going, I'm going, just put the bloody spatula down!"
Al watched his brother beat a hasty retreat up the stairs, his teeth bared in a snarl of warning, and went back to the food. It was only when his face was tipped down, peering into the contents of the saucepan, and knowing that he was utterly alone, that he allowed himself to smile.
Edward Elric was many things; 'difficult' and 'occasionally annoying' were just two of them. Luckily they were counter-balanced by the words 'a good kisser'.
devils_devotion; Roy/Al, 'karma'
Sex with Al is a lot like - well, like not having sex with Fullmetal, Roy muses idly. Whereas Fullmetal would (probably) be rough, Alphonse likes things slow and affectionate and gentle; whereas Fullmetal refused - refused to allow himself to be seduced, Alphonse practically fell over in his rush to catch Roy's eye.
It is, he supposes, as Alphonse's fingers dig into his hips, a sort of cosmic revenge. He'd sworn Fullmetal would be the last (and the last what? The last innocent? The last blond? The last child?) in his bed, but no sooner was Edward out of the picture than Alphonse took his place, all childish smiles (he hadn't yet lost the baby fat from his cheeks) and cautious fingers mixed with an onset of hormones that was nothing short of devestating. Karma, he supposes, is the name for it, this urge, these children; but he has always hated placing the blame for his own failings on nonexistant phenonema - God, society, karma, you name it. He doesn't intend to start now.
"Aah - oh god," Alphonse hisses, head lolling back and dark blond hair shifting, glinting in the light. "More - more, please, more - ah!"
No, karma is not to blame for Alphonse's presence. Roy supposes the answer must be that he is simply an incurable pederast.
... Like that makes it any better, he thinks darkly as Alphonse's free hand rakes across the sheets, nails seeking something to cling onto; but at least it's ultimately a more entertaining excuse than 'because karma made me do it'.
okamihoshi; Ed/Al, 'explode'
The two boys were wrapped around each other on the narrow bed, mouths firmly locked together and hands roaming over smooth skin.
"Brother," Alphonse gasped, the words swallowed by his brother's mouth. He flung his head back, breaking the contact; arched his spine and moaned as his brother's hand slid up over the curve of his hip, through the hollow and over, to loosely wrap around his cock. The younger Elric was hard already; Ed swiped his thumb over the head, smearing the pre-come gathered there over the digit, and proceeded to gently circle the shaft before pumping, with the aid of this new lubricant.
Al clung onto his older brother's shoulders and gasped, teeth locked together, eyes narrow slits of bronze focused solely on his brother's face, even the pleasure lazily curling through his belly like one of those Xing dragons not enough to distract him.
"Brother," he whispered, licked his lips. "Brother, I'm going to - "
The hand on his cock moved faster, Ed's fingers flexing to brush over his balls on the next downwards stoke, and something bolted up along his spine, fogging his brain with a cloud of something warm, and soft. The dragon in his belly shot to life, digging its claws in, and Al canted his head back and just gasped helplessly as it tore through his body, igniting all his nerves, bringing him closer and closer to some invisible edge - he wasn't going to come, he was going to explode at this rate, and he could feel his back arching as he slung to his brother's back, trying to pull then closer and closer together - and Ed had slipped his free arm underneath his back to support him but oh, god, his hand was still on Al's cock, still stroking and fondling and carassing until, with a helpless yelp, Al came into his brother's palm with a sudden rush, a shuddering exhalation that gave away none of the feelings inside him.
"You okay?" Ed said, lowering him back to the bed, and Al wrapped his arms around his brother's neck and closed his eyes. Ed smelled like soap, sweat, books and faintly of oil; his blond hair was ticklish and clung to Ed's bare skin. He smelled distinctly of himself, somehow; a sharp, comfortable scent.
"I'm fine," Al whispered, and kissed him. "Just fine."
Ed's teeth flashed in a grin, and his brother brushed their noses together. "Well," he replied, casually. "That's good to hear."
"Mmm." They lay wrapped up in each other, the silence comfortable and warm, like the blankets their mother had tucked them up in back home when it was winter and they'd come in from a snowball fight; Alphonse closed his eyes and concentrated just on listing to his brother's breathing, on feeling Ed's skin against his.
This, he thought, was the best sensation in the world. There could be no better, because Ed loved him and -
"So," Ed interrupted his internal monolgue with, hopefully. "Is it my turn now?"
Caught between two choices of action, Al settled for just heaving a sigh and shifting to reach for his brother's own erection, still unattended and desperate. Really, he thought wrly, Ed had no sense of the romantic.
azysapphy; Ed/Al, 'poof'
It was three weeks, four days, and six hours after his last phone call that Edward Elric rapped on the door of their tiny little home, nestled into the suburbs of Central.
Al had been doing the laundry at the time, and so it took him a while to answer the door; with a damp sheet in his hands, he undid the latch and just stared at the slender figure on the doorstep.
"Brother?" he'd whispered, despite himself, and Ed had smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. "What are you doing - why didn't you call - I don't - "
"Sorry," Ed said flippantly, stepping over the threshold of the doorframe, and shifted his suitcase to his metal hand. It seemed dirtier than normal, with three times the number of dents; Al eyed it cautiously, and scowled as his brother headed straight for the kitchen.
"You should call me next time!" Al snapped, following him. "It was three weeks - I was so worried, brother!"
"I forgot," Ed replied casually, dumping his suitcase on the floor and crouching to undo the latches. "Look, I wrote you a letter last week, okay?"
"I haven't received it," Al retorted stiffly. "And anyway, brother, the point is that you're still an irresponsible, incredibly annoying - oh, don't give me that look. You come home once every month or so, stay for a few days, and then - poof!" He made an expressive gesture with his arms, not removing his glare from Ed's face. "- You disappear again. Can't you just ask for some time on leave? Please? I'd like to - you know, spend some time with you."
"I've tried," Ed said, voice muffled by the sandwich he'd crammed into his mouth, and continued to raid the cupboard. "But no luck, Al. I gotta be a good dog for a bit longer. Soon's the military snap their fingers - poof, I reappear where they want me to."
He swallowed the sandwich and sighed, turning back to Al. "I'm sorry," he said, cupping his little brother's jaw with his good hand, and bought their mouths together. "My contract comes up for review in six months, Al. Can you wait that long? 'cause believe me, it's hell for me spending all this time without you."
Al blushed - he couldn't help himself - and looked away. "Let's hope they release you," he said quietly. "It would really suck if they just want to renew it, brother."
Ed kicked off his boots, his one hand still gently following the curve of Al's jaw, his other resting on his little brother's shoulder. "I know," he said, and leaned in for another kiss. "That's why -" and Al yipped in surprise as he was bucked up against the wall, his brother a warm presence practically draped over him - "I should just enjoy the time I have left."
Alphonse couldn't argue with that.
ekoko; Roy/Ed/Al, 'heavy'
"Roy," Ed said, his voice soft in the silence and muffled partially by Alphonse, curled against his side.
"Mmm?"
"Get off me." Ed gave the man a shove with his metal arm, but failed to budge him, and settled for heaving an annoyed sigh at the ceiling. "You're heavy, you useless bastard, so get off me."
Roy raised his head from here he'd been drowsing on Ed's chest; brows drawing together. His rapier wit was somewhat at a disadvantage without its fuel of caffeine, but he nevertheless drew himself together and managed to grind out, "I'm sorry, Fullmetal, but you were so small I mistook you for a pillow."
"Oh, FUCK YOU."
"I already have. Would you like me to do it again?"
"BASTARD - "
"Brother, Roy, be quiet!" Al snarled, raising his face just slightly, and both combatants obeyed, albeit with a lot of grumbling.
It wasn't hard to see who was the master of this relationship.
aya_katsera; Ed/Al, 'necklace'
Alphonse awakes late that morning, snuggled up between two layers of blanket and with his brother curled warm at his back, breathing heavily through his mouth. And for a moment, he is content to just lie there, lazy, body lax and content, and just enjoy the gentle peace. The moment before Ed wakes up and life would be filled with noise is always the best, in his opinion.
His brother is too close for him to risk getting out of bed without waking Ed, but that's okay. The sky through their window is a dark grey, and he watches it for a few minutes before he realises that it's snowing, the white flakes stark against the dull background.
For a while, as he watches the delicate whirling dance, all he can think of is wonderment - it is near-tradition, after all, for it to snow on his brother's birthday; a tradition his brother bitches about, when his automail aches too much for him to go outside and play like he had when he was twelve. Things have changed since then, Al thinks, have changed and shifted and - gone, as they've grown up. When they were children, Ed's birthday involved gifts waiting at the foot of his bed, skates slung around their necks as they ran back from the frozen lake with ears and fingers numb from the cold. Birthday cake, the candles lit and their mother standing behind it, smiling. Stuffing themselves sick and bickering over height, comparing the new gifts with previous; Winry, not hitting Ed with anything all day.
That's gone now, Al thinks, and stretches. The only gift waiting in Edward's bed in recent years has been his brother, naked and warm and entirely his, throughout the day; this time, there'll be something else. It's not every day that the Fullmetal Alchemist turns thirty five, after all.
Ed stirs against his back - raises his face, his hair mussed and his eyes vague and unfocused. He blinks at Al owlishly a few times, and with a sigh, the younger Elric leans over his elder sibling to fetch that sibling's glasses. "Here," he says, handing them over, and curls up to his brother as Ed puts them on. "Happy birthday," he whispers, against Ed's throat, and the Fullmetal Alchemist grins, still a little sleep-dazed.
"Thanks," he says, cracks a yawn and stretches his good arm out above his head. "Mmm. What time is it?"
Al shrugs. "No idea," he whispers, and pushes himself up, away from the line of his brother's body. "I bought a gift for you."
"Huh?" Ed blinks at him, golden eyes bright, and then blushes. "You shouldn't've, Al - I mean, I didn't get you anything - "
"Just shut up and appreciate it," Al replies, evenly, shoving the small brightly-coloured package at him. Ed takes it, stares at it, and then, metal hand moving slowly, unties the green ribbon; the gold wrapping paper follows shortly after, and he frowns at the little thing, brows drawing together.
"Al?"
"Open it," Al encourages, heady with excitement and leaning over his brother's shoulder. "Go on!"
Ed pulls a face - "Ugh, you're bossy - " and winces when he receives a punch on the shoulder; and gently, his metal fingers tug the tiny blue box open, revealing the glittering silver necklace on its navy cushion. "Al - this is - ?"
He runs an automail finger so slowly over the lines of the flamel, wrought in minature, his lips parted a little in silent wonderment. "This is - gorgeous."
"I made it," Al says, cheerfully. "I bought the necklace and then I made it into the right shape - I thought you'd like it, isn't it pretty? I know you're not a - girl, and I know you don't wear jewelry, but - "
Ed gently lifts the delicate thing out, snaps the tiny box closed and kisses him, gentle and soft. "It doesn't matter," he says, with a grin. "I'd wear it even if it was hideous, Al, 'cause you made it. Help me put it on?"
Al does the clasp slowly, his fingers gentle on his brother's skin, and presses a kiss against the nape of Ed's neck when he is done. "Happy birthday," he whispers, "my brother."
Ed's soft smile, barely visible in the dim light of the overcast sky, is enough to make it all worth it.
shido; Ed/Al/Envy, 'novel'
Understanding Edward is a lot like reading a fucking picture book, Envy thinks, sourly, as he scuttles up the drainpipe of the tiny house with ease. The kid is loud, and brash; easy to understand, manipulate. Bully. He wears his heart (and his weak points) on his sleeve; practically walks around with a sign that says 'break my little brother to break me'.
Alphonse, though... Alphonse is more like a novel. High classical. Stupid confusing prose, dancing around the subject at its core. He seems so foolishly simple - hah hah, look-at-me, I'm fucking my older brother but I'm still cute and innocent and fucking dumb - but he's not, he's something else. Complex. Good with his fists - probably good in bed, too, from what Envy can hear when he lies in wait on the rooftop, listening.
He's not supposed to attack them just yet. Dante forbade it; she has plans for these two, even now that Hohenheim's spawn have suceeded in their precious goal. He's not supposed to attack them and he doesn't, because she will punish him to the extent where even the pleasure of seeing the two dead will mean nothing, and he doesn't want that.
No, he thinks, leaning over the guttering to watch from the window of their bedroom as Ed flips the bedside light out. He can see perfectly well in the dark; watches the two touch each other and giggle in embarassment with a bored sense of hate burning behind his eyes. He hates that they're so happy, hates that they have everything he can't. Hates the way they kiss, the affectionate away they nuzzle each other; hates them with the malicious fury that had once led Lust to remark on how he should've been born Wrath, not Envy.
He wants to hurt them both, wants to rip them apart and possess them in a way Greed wouldn't've cared about. Wants to take one and hurt him in front of the other, wants to destroy them both.
But he can't, and so he doesn't. Because picture book or novel, either way; he's banned from burning the lovely crisp pages.