Full Metal Alchemist, "Empty Nest 4: Waiting," Danny/Al, Russel/Ed, NC-17
This chapter is for MagicalElf whose beautiful story sat in my psyche, I think, and inspired this. Didn't really realize it until after I posted it.
NC-17 for sex, sex, and more sex. And many thanks to SailorMac for the beta. ^_~
Empty Nest in its entirety:
Prologue: Prodigal Sons
Chapter 1: Awakening
Chapter 1.5: A Matter of Pride
Chapter 2: True Test
Chapter 3: Amestris Pie
[Chapter 4: Waiting]
Chapter 5: Allowance
Chapter 6: Change
Chapter 7: Truce
Chapter 8: Out Alone
Chapter 9: Growing Pains
Chapter 10: Resentment
Chapter 11: Back to Normal
Chapter 12: Perspective
Chapter 13: Understanding
Chapter 14: Distraction
Chapter 15: Silence
Chapter 16: Choose
Chapter 17: Bonds
Chapter 18: Healing
Chapter 19: Nesting
Chapter 20: The Morning After
Chapter 21: Reaction
Chapter 22: Aftershocks
Chapter 23: Goodbye
Chapter 24: Memory
Epilogue: Family
Empty Nest
Chapter Four
Waiting
“SHIT!”
Russel turned, hands poised over the rosebush he was working with, hair falling in his eyes, to stare at his husband. “Baby?” he said. “You okay?”
“Fuckin’ NO I’m not okay,” said Edward, the top of his head bobbing up and down behind the row of plants separating him from Russel. “Cut myself on the fucking ... thing.”
Russel set down the clipping he’d been preparing to Alchemically bind to another breed of rose and wiped his hands on his trousers. “You cut yourself?” he said.
“Yeah,” said Edward. “Damnit, there are days when I really ought to just have Winry make my other arm metal, too ...” He looked up at his husband when the man rounded the corner, watching Russel’s eyes widen. “Yeah,” he said. “Did a bang-up job of it, this time, huh?”
“Ed, that’s really serious!” said Russel. “Come on, we need to get that wrapped.” He shuddered, watching blood drip down Edward’s pale skin, soaking into the sleeve of the man’s linen shirt, dripping into the workings of Edward’s Automail hand. “You may even need stitches.”
Edward snarled. “Could we just get up to the house, please?” he said. “I’m not sure I can make it alone. Kinda dizzy, you know?”
Russel hurried over and scooped Edward into his arms, cradling the man to his chest and making his way slowly to the greenhouse door. Edward’s metal shoulder was digging into his chest, and the weight of his Automail leg was making balance difficult, but he rested his head on Russel’s shoulder, whimpering and going limp without even the slightest hint of protest he usually displayed when Russel tried to carry him like a child.
It took serious injury to tear down Edward’s fierce pride. Russel understood.
“Almost to the house, baby,” he said, gently, struggling up the low slope to the back door. He balanced Edward against his chest and tugged on the door, managing to wedge his body between it and the door-facing before it slammed shut again, the doorknob jabbing him cruelly in the kidneys. Swallowing his groan of pain, he eased his husband into the kitchen and lay the man in the floor, tugging a dishtowel from the oven-rack and wrapping it around Edward’s bleeding forearm.
“I’m going to get some bandages, baby,” he said. “You okay?”
“Dizzy,” said Edward. “Blood’s gross. Saw it gushing out of my leg, when I ... lost it. Kinda remember it coming out of my ... chest, too, but ... And all over Al’s armor, when he was ... carrying me. Blood everywhere, Russ. It was awful.”
Russel stroked his husband’s cheek. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay?” Edward nodded, long hair scrubbing the floor. Russel bent and kissed him. “It’ll be okay, baby,” he said softly. “Just breathe.”
He heard the door slam, heard footsteps coming down the hall, into the kitchen. Heard Al talking excitedly, something about hot cocoa, the boy’s words stopping abruptly with the footsteps as the boy came into the kitchen.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, you two,” said Al. “Can’t you not do that in the middle of the kitchen?”
Russel looked up at his brother-in-law, the boy’s face contorted into a look of disgust and weariness, Danny Broche blushing behind him, looking pointedly away. Russel sighed.
“We’re not doing anything like that, Al,” he said. “Ed’s hurt. Can you get me some towels, please?”
Al’s eyes widened. “Brother?” he said, hurrying over and kneeling. “Oh my God ... Brother, what happened?”
“Got cut,” said Edward, looking up blearily at his little brother. “Hurts.”
“It’s really deep,” said Russel. “I need to get him cleaned up so I can see if he needs to go to the hospital for stitches.”
“May I take a look?”
Russel looked up at Danny, the man looking positively shy, standing just behind Al, hands clasped in front of him. “I know quite a bit of first aid. I might be able to help.”
Russel nodded. “Please,” he said.
Danny made his way around to Edward’s other side, gently taking the man’s flesh wrist in his hand, stretching Edward’s arm out, just a little, to look at the injury. “This isn’t good,” he said. “Definitely needs stitches.” He looked at Al. “Could you grab my bag, please? It’s got my field kit in it, should have some sutures and antiseptic.”
Edward paled. “You are NOT stitching me up, Broche,” he said.
“Be quiet,” said Danny. “You’re bleeding and you need stitches, and we don’t have a car to get you to a hospital. I’m certified to do far more than just stitch up a rip in your arm, so let me do it.”
Edward blinked at him. “Did you just tell me to be quiet?” he said.
“It was good advice, baby,” said Russel. “Let him fix you up.” He looked at Danny. “I didn’t know you were certified to do stuff like that.”
Danny shrugged and stood, pushing up his sleeves to wash his hands at the sink. “I had a choice between combat training and field aid training,” he said. “I could never shoot anyone, I know that, so I trained to be a field doctor. No real serious medicine, just enough to keep soldiers alive until we can get them to a doctor.” He dried his hands, then knelt beside Edward, once again, taking the small metal box Al handed him. “We might need some towels, just to give him something soft to rest his arm on while I’m working.”
Russel squeezed his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’ll get them,” he said. “You stay with Ed.” He rose and hurried out of the room, footsteps loud as he took the stairs two at a time.
“If you fuck up my good arm,” growled Edward, “I’ll rip your face off.”
Danny didn’t even look at him. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. He pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his field kit and snapped them on. “I’m going to clean the cut now,” he said. “It’s going to hurt. Al, hold his arm steady for me, please.”
Al did as he was told, holding his brother’s hand and upper arm, watching his brother’s face contort as Danny swabbed the area, cleaning blood and dirt from the greenhouse away from the tear. Russel returned with the towels and watched in silence, padding his husband’s chest with the soft terrycloth once Danny had finished.
“It’s a pretty big cut,” said Danny. “I’m going to say about sixteen stitches. You doing okay, Edward?”
“Just fucking do it,” said Edward, teeth clenched.
And Danny did. Careful and steady, he stitched Edward’s arm, speaking gently but firmly to the man when Edward jerked and whimpered, pausing and telling Al to lie down, asking Russel to take the boy’s place when Al began to go pale and tremble. When he’d finished smearing antiseptic ointment on the stitches and wrapped gauze around Edward’s wounded arm, he sat back, peeling off his gloves and sighing.
“I’d say you’ll have those out in a week or two,” he said. “But go to a doctor and have them decide. If they ask, those are field-issue sutures, which just means the darker color is normal. The ones you get in the hospital are a little weaker, and the color’s different so we can tell them apart.” He stood and tossed his gloves into the trash, then sat back down in the floor, opening his arms to Al when the boy rose and came over to settle in his lap, still pale, watching his brother with wide, worried eyes.
Edward smiled faintly at them. “Since you fixed my arm,” he said, “I won’t yell at you for touching my baby brother.”
“Why thank you,” said Danny dryly. “That’s very generous of you. Though the price of spending time with Al seems kind of high, from your end.”
Edward laughed weakly. “You’re an asshole, Broche.”
“Brother!” said Al. “Do you have to be mean to Danny all the time? He did just fix your arm.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Edward. He sat up and blinked, his metal hand squeezing Russel’s thigh. Russel put his arm around his husband, holding him up.
“You okay, baby?” he said. “Maybe you should lie still a little longer?”
“Nah, I’m fine,” said Edward. “And don’t call me ‘baby.’”
Russel smiled. “Sorry,” he said. “You want to go upstairs and lie down?”
Edward shook his head. “Should probably go to the doctor about it, right Broche?”
“His name’s ‘Danny,’ Brother,” said Al.
“Probably should see a doctor, yeah,” said Danny. “They can prescribe some ointment to put on it, at least.”
“Whatever,” said Edward. He stood, shakily, the towels Russel had spread out over his chest flopping to the floor like flightless birds. “We’ll be back. Don’t ... do anything.”
Al rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Brother,” he said. “We’re just going to sit here and stare at this spot on the kitchen floor until you come home and tell us we can move.”
“You know what I meant, Al,” said Edward.
“Sadly, yeah I did,” said Al. He watched his brother and Russel leave the room, then tilted his head back and kissed his boyfriend’s lips. “Thank you, Danny,” he said. “You’re amazing.”
Danny blushed. “No problem, sweetheart. Glad I could help.” Al kissed him again, then slid out of his lap, padding out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his voice echoing through the house as he asked his brother what he should fix for dinner. Danny smiled and stood, cleaning up his field kit and folding the towels, setting them in a stack on the table as he passed through to return his kit to his bag. When he heard Edward and Russel coming down the stairs, Al right behind them, he looked up and smiled.
“How’s your arm?” he said.
“Better, but it still hurts,” said Edward.
Danny nodded. “I bet it does. They don’t give us any of the painkiller antiseptics for our kits, just the basic cleaning stuff.” He stepped aside, watching Edward and Russel tug on their coats. “May I ask how you cut yourself?”
Edward sighed. “We were doing plant-grafts in the greenhouse,” he said. “The blade went through the plant funny and-” He made a cutting motion with his metal hand. “I thought I’d just nicked my shirt until I saw the blood.”
Danny whistled. “Ouch,” he said. “Tell the doctor that, when you get to the hospital. It might help to know what kind of plant you were working with, if the wound gets infected.”
“Okay,” said Edward. He turned and reached for the door, then paused. “Thanks,” he said, looking at Danny over his shoulder.
Danny smiled. “My pleasure,” he said.
~*~*~*~
Al tasted like peanut butter, his mouth warm and wet against Danny’s, the tip of his tongue gently teasing the length of his boyfriend’s as they kissed, lying in the living room floor. He’d been pale and shaky after his brother and brother-in-law left, only arguing a little when Danny wrapped him in the blanket from the back of the couch and ordered him to sit down at the kitchen table. Danny had then set about making food for the boy, wandering around the kitchen, obediently following Al’s giggling instructions on where to find bread, peanut butter, and a knife. Only when Al had eaten and was looking pinker in the cheeks, the blanket loose around his lap rather than pulled close under his chin, did Danny let the boy lead him into the living room to play chess, stretched out on his belly while Danny sat, pretzel-style, admiring him.
He didn’t mind losing to Al, because Al always wanted a kiss to celebrate his victory.
Al pulled away and sighed, palms flat against the carpet, erection pressing nicely against Danny’s hip. “I really like the way you kiss,” he said, blushing beautifully. “It’s nice. You’re really good at it.”
Danny felt his own cheeks heat and arched up, kissing Al’s lips, licking more peanut butter flavor from them before pulling back. “Thanks,” he said. “I like the way you kiss, too, Al. It’s very sexy.”
“Sexy?” said Al, cocking his head to one side.
“Mmm-hmm,” said Danny.
“Like it makes you think of sex?”
Danny blushed. “Um,” he said. “Well, kind of, I suppose. I mean ... um ...”
Al grinned. “You’re really cute when you’re stuttering,” he said. “Sexy, even, because I do know what that term means, Daniel.”
Danny rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the carpet, eyes closed. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said, affecting a pout. “I was just trying to help you out.” He cracked an eye and looked at Al, who was kneeling between his legs, smiling down at him. “And don’t call me ‘Daniel.’ My mom calls me that.”
“Sorry,” said Al. “I’ll call you Danny, promise.”
“Thanks,” said Danny. He sat up and cupped Al’s cheek in his palm, kissing the boy once again, slow and gentle. “You’re so sweet, Al. I love being with you.”
“Even when I beat you mercilessly at chess?”
Danny nodded. “Especially then. You can’t help it that you’re brilliant.”
Al blushed, pleased, and turned, collecting the pieces that had spilled when he’d launched himself at Danny for his celebratory kiss, dropping them into the box with care he always exhibited towards the chess-set. Danny watched him, watched Al’s slender fingers caress each piece, rubbing one of the pawns in a way that made Danny’s underwear feel far too tight.
“White queen’s missing,” said Al, oblivious. When he turned and bent, lifting the skirt on the couch to look underneath, the urge to launch himself forward and molest the perfect backside presented to him was nearly too much for Danny, making his cock swell and leak and throb. He’d gone days without touching himself, and his body was quick to complain.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said, stumbling to his feet and hurrying from the room, padding up the stairs and closing the door to the bathing room behind him, then slamming his back against the wall, fumbling with the button and zip of his trousers. He spat into his palm and wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it gently until it was slick and ready, hot in his palm. Soon, he was tugging hard at the throbbing want, the familiar arousal that he felt, every single time he touched Al, be it a simple brush against the boy’s winter coat or a brush of the boy’s tongue against his own.
He closed his eyes and remembered. Al in nothing but his undershorts, changing into a borrowed pair of pants and sweatshirt in Danny’s dorm room. Al stretching in the library, the boy’s muscular body twisting erotically, a soft groan slipping between his parted lips. Al bending over, just moments before, to retrieve the white queen from beneath the sofa. His personal favorite, Al moaning in his sleep, snuggled against Danny’s chest, exhausted from studying and unable to do much more than surrender to Danny’s embrace, recovering his strength.
You’d be beautiful nude, thought Danny, stroking faster, his balls beginning to draw up tight, bringing his release. Legs spread, touching yourself. Watching me watch you, wanting me to touch you. I’d do it so well, too, Al. I’d make you feel good. I’d lick and suck and fuck you and you’d scream my name because I love you Al, Al, Al ...
He grabbed a handful of tissues from the shelf by the door at the very last possible moment and came, hard, choking on harsh breaths that tried to tear themselves from his lungs, shuddering as his cock dripped the last bit of his semen into the puddle of cooling goo on the tissues. It was nice, the relief of orgasm, the release of the tension he’d been feeling, building inside him since Al’s overprotective older brother and quietly smiling brother-in-law had disappeared, leaving him alone with the beautiful boy, safe from the threat of Akil walking in on them, safe from the threat of Edward’s irrational wrath.
Sated and warm, he tossed the soiled tissues into the trash, then reached for the door, pausing only when he heard a moan, low and soft, familiar and sweet.
Unmistakably Al.
~*~*~*~
Al was close, so much so that he was struggling to get his zipper down, and he’d not even touched himself yet.
Another moan floated through the door, low and carnal, so different from Danny’s usual tone, and yet, so similar that it made Al want to moan back, made Al want to throw their promise to wait out the window and charge into the bathing room, made Al want to pounce the beautiful man he’d been kissing just moments before.
Al wrapped his hand around his own cock, leaning against the hallway wall, eyes closing as Danny made a breathless, whimpering sound, a thump shaking the door, giving Al a beautiful mental image of the man, back pressed to the cool wood, pants around his ankles, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other stroking his balls, eyes closed and lips parted, body tight as he teased himself closer and closer to ...
“Oh, Al ...” moaned Danny, voice muffled only a little by the door.
“Danny,” Al whispered, stroking his own erection, licking his hand to add to the slick precome dribbling down from the head.
More thumping. A choked whimper, and Al’s hand stilled, his ears straining to hear if Danny had finished and was coming out. It was one thing to jerk off, listening to his boyfriend moaning in orgasmic ecstasy. It was quite another to get caught jerking off to the sound of his boyfriend moaning in orgasmic ecstasy.
“So close, Al,” whimpered Danny.
“Me, too,” murmured Al, relaxing and stroking himself again. “Oh, Danny.”
More thumping against the door, the sound growing into a steady rhythm. Al stroked in time to it, his eyes closed once again as he tried to imagine Danny thrusting into him-into his mouth, cock hard and salty; into his ass, firm and careful-tried to imagine Danny’s hand on his cock, rather than his own, Danny’s breath hot on his neck as they both strove together for orgasm.
“Oh,” he groaned, too close to coming to care how loud he was. “Oh, Danny, Danny, Danny ...” He came, hard, into his own hand, semen pulsing hot and wet into his palm, his other hand stilling, squeezing his cock until his pleasure had passed and he was softening, the realization that he was sitting in the hall-hand on his dick, his other hand full of come-sinking in, slow and cold.
The bathroom door opened, revealing Danny’s handsome face, a smile curving his soft lips.
“That was hot,” he said, holding eye-contact with Al, not looking lower to the boy’s flaccid cock, to Al’s handful of come.
Al’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.
“Come on in, wash your hands,” said Danny, holding the door open. He followed his blushing boyfriend into the room, pushing the door closed. Laughed softly when Al jumped, tense in his arms as the man reached around to zip Al’s pants back up, quick fingers slipping the button back into its buttonhole. “I wondered how long it would be before you figured out what I was doing in here.”
Al looked at his boyfriend’s reflection in the mirror, Danny’s chin resting on his shoulder, fingers lacing with Al’s under the warm water. “You’ve done this before?” he said.
Danny kissed his neck. “Nearly every time we get to be alone together,” he said. “Not here, obviously. But yeah, in my dorm. Usually try to wait until we’ve said goodbye, but sometimes, I can’t wait.”
“Wow,” said Al. He straightened, shutting off the water and drying his hands on the towel by the sink. “You ...?”
“Yeah,” said Danny. “Because we promised, Al.”
Al smiled and turned, kissing the man he loved, his underwear rubbing his sated cock as he pressed close, his body flush with Danny’s. He could feel the man’s muscles shift, could feel sharp hipbones pressing against his own hips, could feel Danny’s belly quivering as the man struggled for balance and closeness. He could feel the bulge of Danny’s zipper, just to the side of his own, and wondered if Danny’s cock was just as sensitive, pressing against its cloth confines.
Al sighed. Suddenly, waiting seemed much, much harder.
~*~*~*~
“That,” said Edward, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and cheeks slightly flushed, “was absolutely delicious.”
Al beamed. “I’m glad you liked it, Brother,” he said. “Danny and I found that recipe in the library a few weeks ago, and I’ve been wanting to try it.”
“The spinach is high in iron,” said Fletcher, “so it should help your body recover from its blood loss, earlier.”
Edward nodded and patted his belly. “I’m sure that’s true, Fletcher, but right now, all it’s doing is making me sleepy. Proof that it’s good food.” He stood and stretched, reaching for his plate and silverware, but Al stopped him.
“Fletcher and I can do the dishes, Brother,” he said. “Danny told me that you’ll have to be careful not to get your stitches wet too much.”
Edward glared at Danny. “If this is a ploy to get Al out of doing dinner and dishes so he can stay out with you later, it’s not going to work.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “If I want Al to stay out with me later, I’ll ask Al,” he said. “Not make up some elaborate story. And you should watch out around water. Don’t soak your stitches in the tub or anything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Edward. “Doctor at Central said the same thing.” He set his plate back on the table and leant forward, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Thanks, Al,” he said.
“You’re welcome, Brother,” said Al. He stood as well, brushing the backs of his fingers down Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll do the dishes when I get back from walking Danny to the station.”
Edward nodded and yawned, sauntering out of the room, Russel right behind him. Fletcher shook his head.
“Take your time,” he said. “I’m going to go call Winry while you’re gone.” He winked at his friend, then left, padding up the stairs as Al pulled Danny into his arms and kissed him, long and deep.
“Bet we can take longer than he can talk to his girlfriend,” he said, softly.
Danny chuckled. “Let’s find out,” he said.
~*~*~*~
Edward sighed, eyes slipping shut, pleasure tingling through every nerve in his body. He loved having his hair washed, especially when it was Russel doing the washing, loved the feel of the younger man’s strong fingers massaging his scalp, gentle palms smoothing down his long hair. And the sounds Russel made when he washed Edward’s hair were ...
“Mmm,” said Russel, tugging a little to squeeze excess conditioner and water out of Edward’s hair. “I love your hair, baby.”
Edward sighed and thought about yelling at his husband for the use of the hated nickname. Really honestly thought about it, but then Russel was combing his hair, long, gentle strokes of the red plastic comb Edward had once carried around on missions, using only when he was going into a town where he was actually going to get to interact with people who weren’t trying to kill him. And it was just too good, having his hair combed, for him to throw even a little fit.
“Thanks, Russ,” he sighed, “for washing it for me.”
“I could do this every day for the rest of my life,” said Russel, setting the comb back on its shelf with a click, then reaching for the showerhead. “I tried to grow my hair out, after you left Xenotime. Thought it might impress you to come back and find me sexy like you, not ... well, my hair’s kinda dumb. But anyway, it didn’t work. My hair’s too fine and too thin to cooperate, so Belsio ended up suggesting I cut it after only a month or two. I was offended when he suggested it, but went to Fletcher ten minutes later with a pair of scissors and begged him to help me.”
Edward chuckled. “I didn’t know that,” he said. He looked over his shoulder at his husband, long hair dripping water into his eyes. “I think you look nice with your hair the way it is.”
“Good,” said Russel, “because it doesn’t want to be anything else.” He finished rinsing Edward’s hair and squeezed the excess water out of it, then lathered his own hair and rinsed, quick and efficient. Edward watched him, appreciating the foam of his husband’s two-in-one running down the man’s chest, throwing tight muscles into sharp relief.
“You’re so hot, Russ,” he whispered, reaching out with his metal fingers to touch the man he loved. Russel shook water out of his eyes and smiled.
“I love you, baby,” he said. “You’re hot, too. But I’m not going to let you throw me down on the tiles and fuck me, not tonight.” He saw Edward open his mouth and quickly added: “And I’m not going to throw you down and fuck you, either. Not here, anyway.”
Edward pouted. “Meanie,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, but your arm needs to heal, and Danny said getting it wet was bad.”
Edward scowled. “Danny,” he said. “Al’s still out with him, isn’t he? They shouldn’t be taking so long. I’ll have to talk to him about that.”
Russel sighed. “Baby-”
“Don’t say it, Russ, I don’t want to hear it,” said Edward.
“I’m sure they're not doing anything bad,” said Russel.
Edward growled. “I said I don’t want to hear it.”
Russel sighed. “Baby-”
“Stop calling me that!” said Edward. He grabbed the cloth Russel had been lathering and began bathing, rough and haphazard, throwing the cloth down and rinsing when little more than half of his body was clean. When he stood and stormed out, Russel let him go. With a calm slowness that betrayed the pounding of his heart, the burning of his temper, Russel rinsed and re-lathered the cloth, then washed his own body, sighing only a little over his softened cock, resting against painfully full balls. By the time he was washing between his toes, he heard the door to the bathing room slam, mismatched feet stomping across the hallway.
He rinsed and stood, fists balling as he made his way over to his towel and dried off. Towel wrapped around his waist, he opened the door, taking only half a step forward before stopping, greeted by two sets of worried eyes.
“Is Brother okay?” said Al. “I got home and heard him slam the bathing room door. Now he’s locked in his room and won’t answer me. Did he re-injure his arm? There are two more trains tonight, if you want me to go into the City and get Danny to come take a look at it.”
Russel shook his head. “No, Al, your brother’s arm is fine. He’s mad at me.”
Fletcher reached out and gave his brother’s upper arm a squeeze. “Winry said, just now on the phone, that Edward always gets like this when he’s in pain. I told her about the door slamming, and she said just to let him cool off.”
“Thanks, Fletch,” said Russel. “That doesn’t work with me and Edward. He’s my husband. I have to go apologize to him.”
“Just don’t apologize for anything you didn’t do wrong,” said Al. “My mom always said that was the best way to create the opportunity to do that something wrong in the future.”
Russel smiled at the younger boys-men-standing in front of him. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “Ed and I are really lucky to have you two around.”
His brother beamed and hugged him, face pressed to Russel’s warm, damp chest. Al hesitated, so Russel reached out and tugged him close as well, hugging both of them tightly. Al laughed quietly.
“If Brother comes out and sees this, he’ll pitch a right fit,” he said. “Think we’re all ganging up on him or something.”
“You’re probably right,” said Russel. He squared his shoulders. “I’m going to go talk to him. Goodnight, guys.”
“Goodnight, Brother,” said Fletcher.
“And good luck,” said Al. “Don’t think you’ll need it, though.”
Russel nodded and padded down the hall to the bedroom, knocking twice when he found the door locked. Not a good sign. “Edward, let me in,” he said. “It’s my bedroom, too.”
He could hear muffled grumbling coming from inside the room, then footsteps and the click of the lock, footsteps retreating again immediately. He pushed the door open and slipped inside, feeling around for the lightswitch.
“Hey,” he said when light flooded the room, revealing Edward sitting on the edge of the bed, completely naked and shivering. “You okay, ba-, er, Ed?”
“Can’t dry my hair,” mumbled Edward. “Hurts too much.”
Russel sighed sympathetically and draped his towel over the drying rack they kept by the window, then hurried over to sit on the bed behind Edward’s shivering form, taking the man’s towel and setting to work, drying his long hair.
“I’m sorry about your arm,” he said.
Edward sighed. “Just always seems like this stuff happens to me,” he said. “First, when I broke my leg on that mission with Al, then when I got bronchitis and ended up in Hospital for a few days ... now this. I was never this accident-prone, before, when I’d go on missions where I was jumping off buildings and being chased by people and things that didn’t just want to kill me, but wanted to kill me and eat me for dinner. Never.” He peeked at his husband under his towel. “Am I getting old or something?”
Russel laughed. “No, ba-, sorry. Ed. You’re not getting old. You’re just ... I don’t know. Stuff like this happens.”
“Not to you or Al or Fletcher!” said Edward, shivering harder as Russel stretched out to grab the brush from the dresser and began brushing his hair, preparing it to be braided. “Not that I want something to happen to any of you, but still. Why me?”
Russel leant forward and kissed his husband’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Ed,” he said. “I’m sorry, though. From the look on Danny’s face when he said you needed stitches, I’d say it must have been pretty bad.”
Edward sighed. “Danny,” he said. “I don’t like him.”
“Why not?” said Russel. “He’s a perfectly sweet guy. Very nice to talk to, smart, honorable, and he really helped us out, today.” He braided his husband’s hair, then pulled the man into his arms. “Really, you couldn’t have found a better match for Al.”
“He’s too old, and Al’s too young,” said Edward, shivering harder. “Six and a half years, Russ. That’s like ... that’s two and a half years more than the age difference between me and Fletcher.”
“I know,” said Russel. “But really, Al’s not all that young. He and I are the same age. And he loves Danny. You should at least be happy about that.” He nudged his husband off of the bed, then tugged down the thick quilt, the soft sheet. “Now get into bed and let me warm you up. You’re shivering.”
Edward didn’t argue, slipping immediately into bed, curling against Russel’s chest the moment the man settled onto the mattress. Russel chuckled and stretched out his hand, snagging the covers and tugging them up over himself and the man he loved. “We need to move someplace that’s warm all the time,” he said. “Ishbal City’s always warm, isn’t it?”
“Nnh-nhn,” said Edward. “Deserts get cold at night. Really cold. Plus sand in Automail is No Fun At All.”
“Ah,” said Russel. He rubbed his husband’s back with the calloused palm of his hand. “Then I guess we’ll just have to stay here, together, to warm each other up.”
Edward sighed, smiling. “I could go for that,” he said.
“So could I,” said Russel.
“I’m sorry about the tantrum.”
Russel smiled. “Already forgotten,” he said.
For a long while, they lay still, Russel rubbing Edward’s back, Edward’s metal fingers gently stroking Russel’s strong hip. Finally, when Edward’s shivers had completely disappeared, the man’s breathing even slow, not the deep rhythm of sleep, but the steady rhythm of calm, Russel slid out of bed and turned out the light, returning to his husband’s embrace with a flurry of kisses and a nudge, pushing Edward onto his back, Russel molding himself to the man’s side.
“Love you, Ed,” he said.
“Love you too, Russ,” said Edward.
And when Russel tilted his head back for a kiss, Edward was gentle with him, all lips and tongue and warm, fast breath. Russel moaned and kissed back, stroking his husband’s chest and belly, then wrapped strong fingers around Edward’s erection, tugging slow and gentle.
“You don’t have to-ngh-do that, Russ,” whispered Edward. He panted a few times, hips thrusting gentle. “Oh, but don’t stop.”
Russel chuckled and mouthed his husband’s smooth neck. “And if I don’t do this for you,” he said, “how will you do it? I know you don’t like the feel of your metal hand, and your other hand shouldn’t be strained right now.”
He began to stroke harder, rubbing and teasing, then squeezing and twisting and jerking and stroking until Edward was panting and moaning and thrusting and coming, sticky and wet into Russel’s mouth, the younger man burrowing under the blankets just in time to wrap his lips around the head of his husband’s twitching cock, his mouth filling with warmth. He swallowed, then licked, then slid up beside Edward’s panting body and kissed the man’s lips, humming happily around Edward’s tongue.
“Love you, baby,” he said, pulling away.
And Edward would have complained about his husband’s use of the hated nickname, but when he slid under the blankets, warm and sated, he found his mouth far too full for saying much of anything.
Sometimes, he really loved the principle of Equivalent Trade.
~*~*~*~
In the next room, Al sighed and rolled over, glaring at the wall, alone and cold and lonesome, the stuffed lion Danny had given him for luck, just before the Exam, clutched tightly in his arms. On the other side of the room, he heard Fletcher chuckling, the boy’s laughter warm in the darkness.
“Waiting sucks, huh?” he said.
Al turned, smiling faintly at his friend. “Yeah,” he said. “Worth it, though.”
Fletcher nodded, holding up the tiny wrench Winry had given him on their five-month dating anniversary. “Absolutely,” he said. Then without a word, he slipped out of bed and crawled into Al’s, snuggling against his best friend, falling asleep to the sound of silence, Al’s breathing steady under his hand, his brother’s soft snores just audible through the wall.
NC-17 for sex, sex, and more sex. And many thanks to SailorMac for the beta. ^_~
Empty Nest in its entirety:
Prologue: Prodigal Sons
Chapter 1: Awakening
Chapter 1.5: A Matter of Pride
Chapter 2: True Test
Chapter 3: Amestris Pie
[Chapter 4: Waiting]
Chapter 5: Allowance
Chapter 6: Change
Chapter 7: Truce
Chapter 8: Out Alone
Chapter 9: Growing Pains
Chapter 10: Resentment
Chapter 11: Back to Normal
Chapter 12: Perspective
Chapter 13: Understanding
Chapter 14: Distraction
Chapter 15: Silence
Chapter 16: Choose
Chapter 17: Bonds
Chapter 18: Healing
Chapter 19: Nesting
Chapter 20: The Morning After
Chapter 21: Reaction
Chapter 22: Aftershocks
Chapter 23: Goodbye
Chapter 24: Memory
Epilogue: Family
Empty Nest
Chapter Four
Waiting
“SHIT!”
Russel turned, hands poised over the rosebush he was working with, hair falling in his eyes, to stare at his husband. “Baby?” he said. “You okay?”
“Fuckin’ NO I’m not okay,” said Edward, the top of his head bobbing up and down behind the row of plants separating him from Russel. “Cut myself on the fucking ... thing.”
Russel set down the clipping he’d been preparing to Alchemically bind to another breed of rose and wiped his hands on his trousers. “You cut yourself?” he said.
“Yeah,” said Edward. “Damnit, there are days when I really ought to just have Winry make my other arm metal, too ...” He looked up at his husband when the man rounded the corner, watching Russel’s eyes widen. “Yeah,” he said. “Did a bang-up job of it, this time, huh?”
“Ed, that’s really serious!” said Russel. “Come on, we need to get that wrapped.” He shuddered, watching blood drip down Edward’s pale skin, soaking into the sleeve of the man’s linen shirt, dripping into the workings of Edward’s Automail hand. “You may even need stitches.”
Edward snarled. “Could we just get up to the house, please?” he said. “I’m not sure I can make it alone. Kinda dizzy, you know?”
Russel hurried over and scooped Edward into his arms, cradling the man to his chest and making his way slowly to the greenhouse door. Edward’s metal shoulder was digging into his chest, and the weight of his Automail leg was making balance difficult, but he rested his head on Russel’s shoulder, whimpering and going limp without even the slightest hint of protest he usually displayed when Russel tried to carry him like a child.
It took serious injury to tear down Edward’s fierce pride. Russel understood.
“Almost to the house, baby,” he said, gently, struggling up the low slope to the back door. He balanced Edward against his chest and tugged on the door, managing to wedge his body between it and the door-facing before it slammed shut again, the doorknob jabbing him cruelly in the kidneys. Swallowing his groan of pain, he eased his husband into the kitchen and lay the man in the floor, tugging a dishtowel from the oven-rack and wrapping it around Edward’s bleeding forearm.
“I’m going to get some bandages, baby,” he said. “You okay?”
“Dizzy,” said Edward. “Blood’s gross. Saw it gushing out of my leg, when I ... lost it. Kinda remember it coming out of my ... chest, too, but ... And all over Al’s armor, when he was ... carrying me. Blood everywhere, Russ. It was awful.”
Russel stroked his husband’s cheek. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay?” Edward nodded, long hair scrubbing the floor. Russel bent and kissed him. “It’ll be okay, baby,” he said softly. “Just breathe.”
He heard the door slam, heard footsteps coming down the hall, into the kitchen. Heard Al talking excitedly, something about hot cocoa, the boy’s words stopping abruptly with the footsteps as the boy came into the kitchen.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, you two,” said Al. “Can’t you not do that in the middle of the kitchen?”
Russel looked up at his brother-in-law, the boy’s face contorted into a look of disgust and weariness, Danny Broche blushing behind him, looking pointedly away. Russel sighed.
“We’re not doing anything like that, Al,” he said. “Ed’s hurt. Can you get me some towels, please?”
Al’s eyes widened. “Brother?” he said, hurrying over and kneeling. “Oh my God ... Brother, what happened?”
“Got cut,” said Edward, looking up blearily at his little brother. “Hurts.”
“It’s really deep,” said Russel. “I need to get him cleaned up so I can see if he needs to go to the hospital for stitches.”
“May I take a look?”
Russel looked up at Danny, the man looking positively shy, standing just behind Al, hands clasped in front of him. “I know quite a bit of first aid. I might be able to help.”
Russel nodded. “Please,” he said.
Danny made his way around to Edward’s other side, gently taking the man’s flesh wrist in his hand, stretching Edward’s arm out, just a little, to look at the injury. “This isn’t good,” he said. “Definitely needs stitches.” He looked at Al. “Could you grab my bag, please? It’s got my field kit in it, should have some sutures and antiseptic.”
Edward paled. “You are NOT stitching me up, Broche,” he said.
“Be quiet,” said Danny. “You’re bleeding and you need stitches, and we don’t have a car to get you to a hospital. I’m certified to do far more than just stitch up a rip in your arm, so let me do it.”
Edward blinked at him. “Did you just tell me to be quiet?” he said.
“It was good advice, baby,” said Russel. “Let him fix you up.” He looked at Danny. “I didn’t know you were certified to do stuff like that.”
Danny shrugged and stood, pushing up his sleeves to wash his hands at the sink. “I had a choice between combat training and field aid training,” he said. “I could never shoot anyone, I know that, so I trained to be a field doctor. No real serious medicine, just enough to keep soldiers alive until we can get them to a doctor.” He dried his hands, then knelt beside Edward, once again, taking the small metal box Al handed him. “We might need some towels, just to give him something soft to rest his arm on while I’m working.”
Russel squeezed his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’ll get them,” he said. “You stay with Ed.” He rose and hurried out of the room, footsteps loud as he took the stairs two at a time.
“If you fuck up my good arm,” growled Edward, “I’ll rip your face off.”
Danny didn’t even look at him. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. He pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his field kit and snapped them on. “I’m going to clean the cut now,” he said. “It’s going to hurt. Al, hold his arm steady for me, please.”
Al did as he was told, holding his brother’s hand and upper arm, watching his brother’s face contort as Danny swabbed the area, cleaning blood and dirt from the greenhouse away from the tear. Russel returned with the towels and watched in silence, padding his husband’s chest with the soft terrycloth once Danny had finished.
“It’s a pretty big cut,” said Danny. “I’m going to say about sixteen stitches. You doing okay, Edward?”
“Just fucking do it,” said Edward, teeth clenched.
And Danny did. Careful and steady, he stitched Edward’s arm, speaking gently but firmly to the man when Edward jerked and whimpered, pausing and telling Al to lie down, asking Russel to take the boy’s place when Al began to go pale and tremble. When he’d finished smearing antiseptic ointment on the stitches and wrapped gauze around Edward’s wounded arm, he sat back, peeling off his gloves and sighing.
“I’d say you’ll have those out in a week or two,” he said. “But go to a doctor and have them decide. If they ask, those are field-issue sutures, which just means the darker color is normal. The ones you get in the hospital are a little weaker, and the color’s different so we can tell them apart.” He stood and tossed his gloves into the trash, then sat back down in the floor, opening his arms to Al when the boy rose and came over to settle in his lap, still pale, watching his brother with wide, worried eyes.
Edward smiled faintly at them. “Since you fixed my arm,” he said, “I won’t yell at you for touching my baby brother.”
“Why thank you,” said Danny dryly. “That’s very generous of you. Though the price of spending time with Al seems kind of high, from your end.”
Edward laughed weakly. “You’re an asshole, Broche.”
“Brother!” said Al. “Do you have to be mean to Danny all the time? He did just fix your arm.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Edward. He sat up and blinked, his metal hand squeezing Russel’s thigh. Russel put his arm around his husband, holding him up.
“You okay, baby?” he said. “Maybe you should lie still a little longer?”
“Nah, I’m fine,” said Edward. “And don’t call me ‘baby.’”
Russel smiled. “Sorry,” he said. “You want to go upstairs and lie down?”
Edward shook his head. “Should probably go to the doctor about it, right Broche?”
“His name’s ‘Danny,’ Brother,” said Al.
“Probably should see a doctor, yeah,” said Danny. “They can prescribe some ointment to put on it, at least.”
“Whatever,” said Edward. He stood, shakily, the towels Russel had spread out over his chest flopping to the floor like flightless birds. “We’ll be back. Don’t ... do anything.”
Al rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Brother,” he said. “We’re just going to sit here and stare at this spot on the kitchen floor until you come home and tell us we can move.”
“You know what I meant, Al,” said Edward.
“Sadly, yeah I did,” said Al. He watched his brother and Russel leave the room, then tilted his head back and kissed his boyfriend’s lips. “Thank you, Danny,” he said. “You’re amazing.”
Danny blushed. “No problem, sweetheart. Glad I could help.” Al kissed him again, then slid out of his lap, padding out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his voice echoing through the house as he asked his brother what he should fix for dinner. Danny smiled and stood, cleaning up his field kit and folding the towels, setting them in a stack on the table as he passed through to return his kit to his bag. When he heard Edward and Russel coming down the stairs, Al right behind them, he looked up and smiled.
“How’s your arm?” he said.
“Better, but it still hurts,” said Edward.
Danny nodded. “I bet it does. They don’t give us any of the painkiller antiseptics for our kits, just the basic cleaning stuff.” He stepped aside, watching Edward and Russel tug on their coats. “May I ask how you cut yourself?”
Edward sighed. “We were doing plant-grafts in the greenhouse,” he said. “The blade went through the plant funny and-” He made a cutting motion with his metal hand. “I thought I’d just nicked my shirt until I saw the blood.”
Danny whistled. “Ouch,” he said. “Tell the doctor that, when you get to the hospital. It might help to know what kind of plant you were working with, if the wound gets infected.”
“Okay,” said Edward. He turned and reached for the door, then paused. “Thanks,” he said, looking at Danny over his shoulder.
Danny smiled. “My pleasure,” he said.
~*~*~*~
Al tasted like peanut butter, his mouth warm and wet against Danny’s, the tip of his tongue gently teasing the length of his boyfriend’s as they kissed, lying in the living room floor. He’d been pale and shaky after his brother and brother-in-law left, only arguing a little when Danny wrapped him in the blanket from the back of the couch and ordered him to sit down at the kitchen table. Danny had then set about making food for the boy, wandering around the kitchen, obediently following Al’s giggling instructions on where to find bread, peanut butter, and a knife. Only when Al had eaten and was looking pinker in the cheeks, the blanket loose around his lap rather than pulled close under his chin, did Danny let the boy lead him into the living room to play chess, stretched out on his belly while Danny sat, pretzel-style, admiring him.
He didn’t mind losing to Al, because Al always wanted a kiss to celebrate his victory.
Al pulled away and sighed, palms flat against the carpet, erection pressing nicely against Danny’s hip. “I really like the way you kiss,” he said, blushing beautifully. “It’s nice. You’re really good at it.”
Danny felt his own cheeks heat and arched up, kissing Al’s lips, licking more peanut butter flavor from them before pulling back. “Thanks,” he said. “I like the way you kiss, too, Al. It’s very sexy.”
“Sexy?” said Al, cocking his head to one side.
“Mmm-hmm,” said Danny.
“Like it makes you think of sex?”
Danny blushed. “Um,” he said. “Well, kind of, I suppose. I mean ... um ...”
Al grinned. “You’re really cute when you’re stuttering,” he said. “Sexy, even, because I do know what that term means, Daniel.”
Danny rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the carpet, eyes closed. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said, affecting a pout. “I was just trying to help you out.” He cracked an eye and looked at Al, who was kneeling between his legs, smiling down at him. “And don’t call me ‘Daniel.’ My mom calls me that.”
“Sorry,” said Al. “I’ll call you Danny, promise.”
“Thanks,” said Danny. He sat up and cupped Al’s cheek in his palm, kissing the boy once again, slow and gentle. “You’re so sweet, Al. I love being with you.”
“Even when I beat you mercilessly at chess?”
Danny nodded. “Especially then. You can’t help it that you’re brilliant.”
Al blushed, pleased, and turned, collecting the pieces that had spilled when he’d launched himself at Danny for his celebratory kiss, dropping them into the box with care he always exhibited towards the chess-set. Danny watched him, watched Al’s slender fingers caress each piece, rubbing one of the pawns in a way that made Danny’s underwear feel far too tight.
“White queen’s missing,” said Al, oblivious. When he turned and bent, lifting the skirt on the couch to look underneath, the urge to launch himself forward and molest the perfect backside presented to him was nearly too much for Danny, making his cock swell and leak and throb. He’d gone days without touching himself, and his body was quick to complain.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said, stumbling to his feet and hurrying from the room, padding up the stairs and closing the door to the bathing room behind him, then slamming his back against the wall, fumbling with the button and zip of his trousers. He spat into his palm and wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it gently until it was slick and ready, hot in his palm. Soon, he was tugging hard at the throbbing want, the familiar arousal that he felt, every single time he touched Al, be it a simple brush against the boy’s winter coat or a brush of the boy’s tongue against his own.
He closed his eyes and remembered. Al in nothing but his undershorts, changing into a borrowed pair of pants and sweatshirt in Danny’s dorm room. Al stretching in the library, the boy’s muscular body twisting erotically, a soft groan slipping between his parted lips. Al bending over, just moments before, to retrieve the white queen from beneath the sofa. His personal favorite, Al moaning in his sleep, snuggled against Danny’s chest, exhausted from studying and unable to do much more than surrender to Danny’s embrace, recovering his strength.
You’d be beautiful nude, thought Danny, stroking faster, his balls beginning to draw up tight, bringing his release. Legs spread, touching yourself. Watching me watch you, wanting me to touch you. I’d do it so well, too, Al. I’d make you feel good. I’d lick and suck and fuck you and you’d scream my name because I love you Al, Al, Al ...
He grabbed a handful of tissues from the shelf by the door at the very last possible moment and came, hard, choking on harsh breaths that tried to tear themselves from his lungs, shuddering as his cock dripped the last bit of his semen into the puddle of cooling goo on the tissues. It was nice, the relief of orgasm, the release of the tension he’d been feeling, building inside him since Al’s overprotective older brother and quietly smiling brother-in-law had disappeared, leaving him alone with the beautiful boy, safe from the threat of Akil walking in on them, safe from the threat of Edward’s irrational wrath.
Sated and warm, he tossed the soiled tissues into the trash, then reached for the door, pausing only when he heard a moan, low and soft, familiar and sweet.
Unmistakably Al.
~*~*~*~
Al was close, so much so that he was struggling to get his zipper down, and he’d not even touched himself yet.
Another moan floated through the door, low and carnal, so different from Danny’s usual tone, and yet, so similar that it made Al want to moan back, made Al want to throw their promise to wait out the window and charge into the bathing room, made Al want to pounce the beautiful man he’d been kissing just moments before.
Al wrapped his hand around his own cock, leaning against the hallway wall, eyes closing as Danny made a breathless, whimpering sound, a thump shaking the door, giving Al a beautiful mental image of the man, back pressed to the cool wood, pants around his ankles, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other stroking his balls, eyes closed and lips parted, body tight as he teased himself closer and closer to ...
“Oh, Al ...” moaned Danny, voice muffled only a little by the door.
“Danny,” Al whispered, stroking his own erection, licking his hand to add to the slick precome dribbling down from the head.
More thumping. A choked whimper, and Al’s hand stilled, his ears straining to hear if Danny had finished and was coming out. It was one thing to jerk off, listening to his boyfriend moaning in orgasmic ecstasy. It was quite another to get caught jerking off to the sound of his boyfriend moaning in orgasmic ecstasy.
“So close, Al,” whimpered Danny.
“Me, too,” murmured Al, relaxing and stroking himself again. “Oh, Danny.”
More thumping against the door, the sound growing into a steady rhythm. Al stroked in time to it, his eyes closed once again as he tried to imagine Danny thrusting into him-into his mouth, cock hard and salty; into his ass, firm and careful-tried to imagine Danny’s hand on his cock, rather than his own, Danny’s breath hot on his neck as they both strove together for orgasm.
“Oh,” he groaned, too close to coming to care how loud he was. “Oh, Danny, Danny, Danny ...” He came, hard, into his own hand, semen pulsing hot and wet into his palm, his other hand stilling, squeezing his cock until his pleasure had passed and he was softening, the realization that he was sitting in the hall-hand on his dick, his other hand full of come-sinking in, slow and cold.
The bathroom door opened, revealing Danny’s handsome face, a smile curving his soft lips.
“That was hot,” he said, holding eye-contact with Al, not looking lower to the boy’s flaccid cock, to Al’s handful of come.
Al’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.
“Come on in, wash your hands,” said Danny, holding the door open. He followed his blushing boyfriend into the room, pushing the door closed. Laughed softly when Al jumped, tense in his arms as the man reached around to zip Al’s pants back up, quick fingers slipping the button back into its buttonhole. “I wondered how long it would be before you figured out what I was doing in here.”
Al looked at his boyfriend’s reflection in the mirror, Danny’s chin resting on his shoulder, fingers lacing with Al’s under the warm water. “You’ve done this before?” he said.
Danny kissed his neck. “Nearly every time we get to be alone together,” he said. “Not here, obviously. But yeah, in my dorm. Usually try to wait until we’ve said goodbye, but sometimes, I can’t wait.”
“Wow,” said Al. He straightened, shutting off the water and drying his hands on the towel by the sink. “You ...?”
“Yeah,” said Danny. “Because we promised, Al.”
Al smiled and turned, kissing the man he loved, his underwear rubbing his sated cock as he pressed close, his body flush with Danny’s. He could feel the man’s muscles shift, could feel sharp hipbones pressing against his own hips, could feel Danny’s belly quivering as the man struggled for balance and closeness. He could feel the bulge of Danny’s zipper, just to the side of his own, and wondered if Danny’s cock was just as sensitive, pressing against its cloth confines.
Al sighed. Suddenly, waiting seemed much, much harder.
~*~*~*~
“That,” said Edward, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and cheeks slightly flushed, “was absolutely delicious.”
Al beamed. “I’m glad you liked it, Brother,” he said. “Danny and I found that recipe in the library a few weeks ago, and I’ve been wanting to try it.”
“The spinach is high in iron,” said Fletcher, “so it should help your body recover from its blood loss, earlier.”
Edward nodded and patted his belly. “I’m sure that’s true, Fletcher, but right now, all it’s doing is making me sleepy. Proof that it’s good food.” He stood and stretched, reaching for his plate and silverware, but Al stopped him.
“Fletcher and I can do the dishes, Brother,” he said. “Danny told me that you’ll have to be careful not to get your stitches wet too much.”
Edward glared at Danny. “If this is a ploy to get Al out of doing dinner and dishes so he can stay out with you later, it’s not going to work.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “If I want Al to stay out with me later, I’ll ask Al,” he said. “Not make up some elaborate story. And you should watch out around water. Don’t soak your stitches in the tub or anything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Edward. “Doctor at Central said the same thing.” He set his plate back on the table and leant forward, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Thanks, Al,” he said.
“You’re welcome, Brother,” said Al. He stood as well, brushing the backs of his fingers down Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll do the dishes when I get back from walking Danny to the station.”
Edward nodded and yawned, sauntering out of the room, Russel right behind him. Fletcher shook his head.
“Take your time,” he said. “I’m going to go call Winry while you’re gone.” He winked at his friend, then left, padding up the stairs as Al pulled Danny into his arms and kissed him, long and deep.
“Bet we can take longer than he can talk to his girlfriend,” he said, softly.
Danny chuckled. “Let’s find out,” he said.
~*~*~*~
Edward sighed, eyes slipping shut, pleasure tingling through every nerve in his body. He loved having his hair washed, especially when it was Russel doing the washing, loved the feel of the younger man’s strong fingers massaging his scalp, gentle palms smoothing down his long hair. And the sounds Russel made when he washed Edward’s hair were ...
“Mmm,” said Russel, tugging a little to squeeze excess conditioner and water out of Edward’s hair. “I love your hair, baby.”
Edward sighed and thought about yelling at his husband for the use of the hated nickname. Really honestly thought about it, but then Russel was combing his hair, long, gentle strokes of the red plastic comb Edward had once carried around on missions, using only when he was going into a town where he was actually going to get to interact with people who weren’t trying to kill him. And it was just too good, having his hair combed, for him to throw even a little fit.
“Thanks, Russ,” he sighed, “for washing it for me.”
“I could do this every day for the rest of my life,” said Russel, setting the comb back on its shelf with a click, then reaching for the showerhead. “I tried to grow my hair out, after you left Xenotime. Thought it might impress you to come back and find me sexy like you, not ... well, my hair’s kinda dumb. But anyway, it didn’t work. My hair’s too fine and too thin to cooperate, so Belsio ended up suggesting I cut it after only a month or two. I was offended when he suggested it, but went to Fletcher ten minutes later with a pair of scissors and begged him to help me.”
Edward chuckled. “I didn’t know that,” he said. He looked over his shoulder at his husband, long hair dripping water into his eyes. “I think you look nice with your hair the way it is.”
“Good,” said Russel, “because it doesn’t want to be anything else.” He finished rinsing Edward’s hair and squeezed the excess water out of it, then lathered his own hair and rinsed, quick and efficient. Edward watched him, appreciating the foam of his husband’s two-in-one running down the man’s chest, throwing tight muscles into sharp relief.
“You’re so hot, Russ,” he whispered, reaching out with his metal fingers to touch the man he loved. Russel shook water out of his eyes and smiled.
“I love you, baby,” he said. “You’re hot, too. But I’m not going to let you throw me down on the tiles and fuck me, not tonight.” He saw Edward open his mouth and quickly added: “And I’m not going to throw you down and fuck you, either. Not here, anyway.”
Edward pouted. “Meanie,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, but your arm needs to heal, and Danny said getting it wet was bad.”
Edward scowled. “Danny,” he said. “Al’s still out with him, isn’t he? They shouldn’t be taking so long. I’ll have to talk to him about that.”
Russel sighed. “Baby-”
“Don’t say it, Russ, I don’t want to hear it,” said Edward.
“I’m sure they're not doing anything bad,” said Russel.
Edward growled. “I said I don’t want to hear it.”
Russel sighed. “Baby-”
“Stop calling me that!” said Edward. He grabbed the cloth Russel had been lathering and began bathing, rough and haphazard, throwing the cloth down and rinsing when little more than half of his body was clean. When he stood and stormed out, Russel let him go. With a calm slowness that betrayed the pounding of his heart, the burning of his temper, Russel rinsed and re-lathered the cloth, then washed his own body, sighing only a little over his softened cock, resting against painfully full balls. By the time he was washing between his toes, he heard the door to the bathing room slam, mismatched feet stomping across the hallway.
He rinsed and stood, fists balling as he made his way over to his towel and dried off. Towel wrapped around his waist, he opened the door, taking only half a step forward before stopping, greeted by two sets of worried eyes.
“Is Brother okay?” said Al. “I got home and heard him slam the bathing room door. Now he’s locked in his room and won’t answer me. Did he re-injure his arm? There are two more trains tonight, if you want me to go into the City and get Danny to come take a look at it.”
Russel shook his head. “No, Al, your brother’s arm is fine. He’s mad at me.”
Fletcher reached out and gave his brother’s upper arm a squeeze. “Winry said, just now on the phone, that Edward always gets like this when he’s in pain. I told her about the door slamming, and she said just to let him cool off.”
“Thanks, Fletch,” said Russel. “That doesn’t work with me and Edward. He’s my husband. I have to go apologize to him.”
“Just don’t apologize for anything you didn’t do wrong,” said Al. “My mom always said that was the best way to create the opportunity to do that something wrong in the future.”
Russel smiled at the younger boys-men-standing in front of him. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “Ed and I are really lucky to have you two around.”
His brother beamed and hugged him, face pressed to Russel’s warm, damp chest. Al hesitated, so Russel reached out and tugged him close as well, hugging both of them tightly. Al laughed quietly.
“If Brother comes out and sees this, he’ll pitch a right fit,” he said. “Think we’re all ganging up on him or something.”
“You’re probably right,” said Russel. He squared his shoulders. “I’m going to go talk to him. Goodnight, guys.”
“Goodnight, Brother,” said Fletcher.
“And good luck,” said Al. “Don’t think you’ll need it, though.”
Russel nodded and padded down the hall to the bedroom, knocking twice when he found the door locked. Not a good sign. “Edward, let me in,” he said. “It’s my bedroom, too.”
He could hear muffled grumbling coming from inside the room, then footsteps and the click of the lock, footsteps retreating again immediately. He pushed the door open and slipped inside, feeling around for the lightswitch.
“Hey,” he said when light flooded the room, revealing Edward sitting on the edge of the bed, completely naked and shivering. “You okay, ba-, er, Ed?”
“Can’t dry my hair,” mumbled Edward. “Hurts too much.”
Russel sighed sympathetically and draped his towel over the drying rack they kept by the window, then hurried over to sit on the bed behind Edward’s shivering form, taking the man’s towel and setting to work, drying his long hair.
“I’m sorry about your arm,” he said.
Edward sighed. “Just always seems like this stuff happens to me,” he said. “First, when I broke my leg on that mission with Al, then when I got bronchitis and ended up in Hospital for a few days ... now this. I was never this accident-prone, before, when I’d go on missions where I was jumping off buildings and being chased by people and things that didn’t just want to kill me, but wanted to kill me and eat me for dinner. Never.” He peeked at his husband under his towel. “Am I getting old or something?”
Russel laughed. “No, ba-, sorry. Ed. You’re not getting old. You’re just ... I don’t know. Stuff like this happens.”
“Not to you or Al or Fletcher!” said Edward, shivering harder as Russel stretched out to grab the brush from the dresser and began brushing his hair, preparing it to be braided. “Not that I want something to happen to any of you, but still. Why me?”
Russel leant forward and kissed his husband’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Ed,” he said. “I’m sorry, though. From the look on Danny’s face when he said you needed stitches, I’d say it must have been pretty bad.”
Edward sighed. “Danny,” he said. “I don’t like him.”
“Why not?” said Russel. “He’s a perfectly sweet guy. Very nice to talk to, smart, honorable, and he really helped us out, today.” He braided his husband’s hair, then pulled the man into his arms. “Really, you couldn’t have found a better match for Al.”
“He’s too old, and Al’s too young,” said Edward, shivering harder. “Six and a half years, Russ. That’s like ... that’s two and a half years more than the age difference between me and Fletcher.”
“I know,” said Russel. “But really, Al’s not all that young. He and I are the same age. And he loves Danny. You should at least be happy about that.” He nudged his husband off of the bed, then tugged down the thick quilt, the soft sheet. “Now get into bed and let me warm you up. You’re shivering.”
Edward didn’t argue, slipping immediately into bed, curling against Russel’s chest the moment the man settled onto the mattress. Russel chuckled and stretched out his hand, snagging the covers and tugging them up over himself and the man he loved. “We need to move someplace that’s warm all the time,” he said. “Ishbal City’s always warm, isn’t it?”
“Nnh-nhn,” said Edward. “Deserts get cold at night. Really cold. Plus sand in Automail is No Fun At All.”
“Ah,” said Russel. He rubbed his husband’s back with the calloused palm of his hand. “Then I guess we’ll just have to stay here, together, to warm each other up.”
Edward sighed, smiling. “I could go for that,” he said.
“So could I,” said Russel.
“I’m sorry about the tantrum.”
Russel smiled. “Already forgotten,” he said.
For a long while, they lay still, Russel rubbing Edward’s back, Edward’s metal fingers gently stroking Russel’s strong hip. Finally, when Edward’s shivers had completely disappeared, the man’s breathing even slow, not the deep rhythm of sleep, but the steady rhythm of calm, Russel slid out of bed and turned out the light, returning to his husband’s embrace with a flurry of kisses and a nudge, pushing Edward onto his back, Russel molding himself to the man’s side.
“Love you, Ed,” he said.
“Love you too, Russ,” said Edward.
And when Russel tilted his head back for a kiss, Edward was gentle with him, all lips and tongue and warm, fast breath. Russel moaned and kissed back, stroking his husband’s chest and belly, then wrapped strong fingers around Edward’s erection, tugging slow and gentle.
“You don’t have to-ngh-do that, Russ,” whispered Edward. He panted a few times, hips thrusting gentle. “Oh, but don’t stop.”
Russel chuckled and mouthed his husband’s smooth neck. “And if I don’t do this for you,” he said, “how will you do it? I know you don’t like the feel of your metal hand, and your other hand shouldn’t be strained right now.”
He began to stroke harder, rubbing and teasing, then squeezing and twisting and jerking and stroking until Edward was panting and moaning and thrusting and coming, sticky and wet into Russel’s mouth, the younger man burrowing under the blankets just in time to wrap his lips around the head of his husband’s twitching cock, his mouth filling with warmth. He swallowed, then licked, then slid up beside Edward’s panting body and kissed the man’s lips, humming happily around Edward’s tongue.
“Love you, baby,” he said, pulling away.
And Edward would have complained about his husband’s use of the hated nickname, but when he slid under the blankets, warm and sated, he found his mouth far too full for saying much of anything.
Sometimes, he really loved the principle of Equivalent Trade.
~*~*~*~
In the next room, Al sighed and rolled over, glaring at the wall, alone and cold and lonesome, the stuffed lion Danny had given him for luck, just before the Exam, clutched tightly in his arms. On the other side of the room, he heard Fletcher chuckling, the boy’s laughter warm in the darkness.
“Waiting sucks, huh?” he said.
Al turned, smiling faintly at his friend. “Yeah,” he said. “Worth it, though.”
Fletcher nodded, holding up the tiny wrench Winry had given him on their five-month dating anniversary. “Absolutely,” he said. Then without a word, he slipped out of bed and crawled into Al’s, snuggling against his best friend, falling asleep to the sound of silence, Al’s breathing steady under his hand, his brother’s soft snores just audible through the wall.