The house rumbled gently, as a cat purrs, and Alphonse tied off the braid, pressing his hands to Edward's scalp one more time before dropping them to his side.
Fingertips drifted over curves, up over hips and thighs and the dimple of ribs, and if my eyes were closed, I could have told you in detail every perfect flaw and scar.
"You know we need to catch that train to Central, and you were being unreasonable. If we're late getting back again, General Mustang's going to have a fit."
"Up," said the demon, as the blinding force of a million suns illuminated its frame and set an evil light to its eyes.
As always, there was a spark of hope in the younger Elric's expression, and it dug its claws into him as it had every day for the past eight months.
This new life was staggering - more so, the feel of Alphonse's shoulder, warm and flesh beneath his cheek as the train lurched out of the station.
Too many more nights of excuses are going to drive him from appropriately celibate to stark raving mad.
"Your arm," said Al, smiling apologetically. "It's kind of heavy."
"Brother," Alphonse said, voice soft with horror, "I think that Winry's going to kill you."
"It's cheating," he declared at last, "To pick a fight while I ache."
The first time was not a night of magic or fireworks, not something dreams were made of, not something that either of them planned on repeating again.
With a sense of rising dread, Alphonse raised his fist to pound for admittance, worry tinging his voice. "Brother? Are you alright in there?"
The sunrise is spectacular, and it is the first that Edward has been awake to see in years.
But suddenly, when Al had his body back, it was like picking up an old book and learning something new.
It made a lovely picture, with the moonlight streaming in thick and silver under the curtains, and Edward silently cursed everything that came to mind...
Al crouches down on a dune looking down on the camp and draws an array in the sand, thinking of Gunnar with a dull pang of grief.
"It's blue!" Edward announced with the voice of desperation.
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
It's a paradoxical situation; Alphonse is closer to Edward than he has ever been, yet somehow he feels as if they don't know each other at all.
There was gold in the middle of midnight, and Envy smiled over his satisfaction.
Humans are so greedy, the Truth had told him in his dreams; and for all his airs and graces, he is no exception.
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
For an instant, a look passed between them, and Alphonse could almost imagine that he saw his own emotions reflected within the eyes of his brother.
"So by 'torture,' you really mean 'sexual gratification'. Specifically your sexual gratification.
He had never dared to dream that things could get better, astounded as he'd been by the way air tasted spilling over his tongue...
After so many years in the dark, Edward Elric had discovered he had a libido after all, and it was unfortunately exacting its frustrated vengeance upon one Alphonse Elric.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
If he would permit himself to be honest, Alphonse would admit to Roy that he hates the rain, too.
Everything — Ed's wishes, his remaining dignity, even his trust — was going to have to come second to Ed's life.
"Yeah," Fuery chips in, "you're always the one to stop Ed from doing weird stuff, not the other way around."
With no warning at all, something changed in the air between them, and the fight turned dirty.
His brother seemed to like it when the leather left marks, a residual token of ownership, even when the collar (by job-dictated necessity) had to be removed.
It is snowing in earnest by the time the fire has begun to burn low, but neither boy wants to move to add more wood.
The room had gotten hot and stuffy, and there was sweat on both of his hands, though the sheen on the automail had not come from his own body.
In the summer they competed at climbing through the twisting branches, risking life and bruises to collect baskets of fruit and bring them back home.
All it took was a push of his hand and the twist of a small brass key to put it out of sight.
"That's what you said last time. And the time before that. And," he added, dragging the feather upward with maddening slowness, "The time before that."
He runs out of ink halfway through the page, and with a quiet sigh dips his finger in the inkwell...
Ed was normally a cheerful, friendly drunk, thank goodness, but the slightest hint of reproach or anger on Al's part would send Ed into a crashing depression.
"Stop that," he snapped, flicking the tap on. "Change into something a little more appropriate. You're not him, brother."
More than once already, Edward had regretted turning down the offer of a ride home, despite the fact that the little house he shared with Alphonse was nowhere near where Havoc lived.
I'm going to kill Ed when he gets back, Al told the General. I just thought I should tell you in advance in case there's paperwork.
I know what I feel, I know what I think, and I don't need to chickenscratch the shit down and have the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
There is immortality deep within us that has nothing to do with corruptible flesh and earthly demise.
We were the naive kings of all we surveyed, lingering on the hilltop as we stared at our kingdom of ash, of ruins, of dust.
"Are you saying," Al inquired, slowly, "that you never believed that I didn't blame you?"
His tone was all weary patience, as though explaining to a child why candy was out of the question until after dinner.