Alphonse leaned in the bathroom's doorway, calling, "Brother ... did you use condoms when you used to have sex with Roy?"
Edward kicked the covers off his naked body and rolled over to look at Al. "Uh, no? It's not like I can get pregnant." His glare dared Al to make a crack on his slightly feminine looks.
Alphonse wasn't in the mood to tease. He looked down his boxers again. "Yeah, well, go ask Roy what he gave you because I think you just gave it to me. I don't think those parts of me are supposed to be blue."
The door to the outer office flew open with enough force that it hit the wall and bounced. Knowing well that there could only be one person irate enough to do so, Riza didn't even look up as she said, "Good morning, Edward. The Colonel's free right now, so go ahead."
Edward offered no reply, booting the door to the inner office open as well. It didn't shut behind him as he stormed in, grabbed Mustang by his collar, and pulled him nose to nose. "Fullmetal?" Roy inquired politely, putting the pen down. "Just what happened to annoy you so?"
"YOU GAVE MY BROTHER A FUCKING STD, YOU BASTARD!" Edward roared, beginning to shake the man. "A SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED FUCKING DISEASE!" It may have said something about Roy's character that at that moment, the first thing that flashed through his head was a list of women's names who might have given him something, to be struck off his second-time list. The second was that he hadn't actually slept with Alphonse.
"Fullmetal—stop shaking me, damnit—I can assure you that I have done nothing illicit with your brother. If he told you I had—"
"No, you prick," Edward growled, not releasing his collar. "You gave it to ME and I gave it to Al!" There was a very long pause, and Edward blushed. "Forget I said that," he muttered, then began shaking Roy again. "I want to know just what it is and how it can be cured, because right now it really hurts to piss, you fucking jerk," he snarled, and Roy blinked at him very carefully.
Well. Presumably since he'd given it to Edward... "What are the symptoms?"
"What, aside from the blue colour?"
"Blue colour?" Roy frowned, then smirked his most attractive smirk. "Perhaps I might need a closer examination of the—ah—of the affected area, before I can begin to offer guidance?"
He woke a few minutes later, alone aside from the bright red imprint of an automail fist still burning on his cheek.
Edward didn't care about 'having an appointment'. He stomped through the waiting room and made a beeline for Clara's office, throwing out the window the person who tried to stop him.
The blonde doctor smiled. "Edward, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"
"It's blue!" Edward announced with the voice of desperation.
Clara blinked. "What's blue?"
Edward gestured below his waist. "My...my...male parts damnit! It's all blue and it looks like it's about to fall off or something!"
Clara pushed up her glasses. "Sit down and let me see."
Ed hadn't thought that far. His first reaction was to recoil. "No! You're a girl!"
"I can't help you without examining the problem," patiently explained the woman. "Don't be a child. I'm a doctor, I know my job."
Edward was so desperate he didn't argue further.
Clara was efficiently professional and came up with a conclusion within minutes. Edward understood nothing of her explanations, only interested in the cure. "Okay, and how do I get rid of it?"
"I know you are a growing boy, Edward, and that hormones are difficult to tame, but if you want the infection to recede and if you want to avoid contaminating your partner, you'll have to stop having sex until the colour is entirely gone."
Avoid contaminating his partner? Well, it was too late for that...
"How long should it take?" inquired Edward. "Not too long, right?"
"You have a bad case of it," scowled Clara. "Two to four months, depending on how well you hold back on sex."
Edward paled, and paled again. "You've got to be kidding me."
"It's your choice. Listen to me or don't, but don't come complaining to me if the infection spreads because you ignored my advice, little boy."
Alphonse worried when he saw his brother come back, face pale and dragging his feet. "Brother, where were you? You took forever. Did you see Mustang?""
"Went to see Clara," mumbled Ed.
"Does she know what it is? What did she say?"
Edward whimpered and clung to his brother. "She said I was going to diiiiiie."
Ed set out for the Colonel's office, murder firmly in mind. Al trailed along behind, trying to calm him down, but only half-heartedly. He wasn't too pleased about the prospect of two months of abstinence, either.
The brothers burst into the outer office to find Hawkeye still there, still unconcernedly going about her work; this time, however, Havoc was added to the scene, head down on the desk and moaning faintly.
"Don't be such a baby," Hawkeye told him with a brutal lack of sympathy. "You should learn to accept the consequences of your actions maturely."
"Maturely? MATURELY?" Havoc's head snapped up, revealing an expression of tortured horror. "I'm sitting here with a blue dick—BLUE, lieutenant!—and you want me to act maturely?
Ed jerked around to face Al, wide-eyed. Al's expression was the same.
"I didn't. You?"
"No! It must have been—"
"The Colonel. That bastard!"
"And at the same time as he was—"
"I'll kill him."
"Right. I'll help."
The two brothers marched purposefully towards the Colonel's office, a deadly glint in their eyes. The door swung closed behind them with a deceptively gentle "click," and a crackle of alchemy followed it.
Havoc heard none of it, still hung up on his personal tragedy. "Blue, I tell you!"
Hawkeye tsked, and shook her head. "That's what you get for putting on your underwear right out of the washer, you fool," she said dispassionately.
"How was I supposed to know they weren't colourfast?" Havoc whimpered.
Meanwhile, Roy—who had just recovered from the unfortunate marriage between his cheekbone and Edward's metal fist—had been sitting at his desk chair, his notebook of contacts and his schedule of girlfriends in front of him. It couldn't have been Caroline, she'd've told him. Jessica had been a virgin, it had been Annette's first time for a while... which just left Catherine, Mary, Anna, Maria, Charlotte, Daphne, Bethany, Samantha, Bryony, Holly—
His mental catalogue was interrupted by Edward's return, this time backed up by Alphonse. The brothers entered the room silently, Alphonse alchemically locking it behind them, and Edward took off his gloves with great deliberation. With a sigh Roy put a bookmark in his notebook and closed it, resting his chin on gloved hands.
"Did you find out what it was, Fullmetal?" he inquired, taking pains to keep his voice modulated and cool.
"Fuck yeah," Ed snarled, advancing a couple of steps across the floor. "How many people have you given this thing to, you shit?"
Roy blinked at the question and flicked open the notebook again, counting briefly. Assuming he'd gotten it from Cathy... "Forty-nine?"
Alphonse stepped up beside his older brother. "You know the cure is to remain chaste for two to four months?"
"Really?" Roy glanced down at the notebook again and winced. He was going to have one hell of a lot of angry phone calls.
"'Really'? Is that all you can say? Al and I have to take a break for UP TO FOUR MONTHS because of YOU, you prick—"
"If you didn't think with your penis, Roy, none of this would've happened!" Al interjected angrily, though at his own directness he couldn't repress a fetching blush.
"And what are you going to do, Elric brothers? It was a mistake—a tragic, but possibly unavoidable, mistake. Surely you cannot—"
"Brother," Al said almost mildly, both of them still stalking towards him menacingly, "You hold the bastard down while I transmute some cheese wire."
It had been, Roy admitted afterward, a slightly extreme measure to jump out the window. Though, in his defence, he had forgotten his new office was on the second floor of the building. And, truly, what could a proud man do when his manhood was threatened by the Elric brothers themselves? Roy maintained fleeing had been the only solution. Next time ? assuming he survived this one—he was just going to use a safer route.
To be brief, Roy jumped. And fell with a disgraceful scream. While the scream was pleasing, it wasn't satisfying enough for the boys.
"Brother, he's getting away!"
"No he's not!" About to follow Roy out the window, Edward hissed and bent in two. "Ow, fuck."
"Your fault," muttered Al, not feeling much better. "Just a last time, you said."
"No, it's his fault," retorted Ed with a furious hiss. "Gonna maim him."
"You have to share," Alphonse reminded his sibling.
"I'll be pleased to." Edward growled, looking down. Roy had disappeared. "Damn, where is he?"
"Hiding, I think."
"Yeah, well, he can't hide forever. We'll find him."
"And maim him."
"Seriously maim him."
Hushed voices from the other side of the door caught their attention. Alphonse tip toed to it and cracked it open to look. Roy had somehow managed to crawl back up the stairs to come and cling after his First Lieutenant. "He's going to hide behind Hawkeye," said Alphonse, outraged. "He's cheating!"
Edward turned to the desk and picked up Roy's notebook. "She'll drop him soon enough, especially when she hears what he did this time. We might want to give a few phone calls for now. These girls need to know the truth. I bet the bastard would claim they gave it to him and he's the poor victim. How about that?"
Al agreed. It was a good start.
four months later
Ed slunk into Clara's office with a hang-dog attitude and a limp. The former, the doctor and former thief had come to expect; despite his over-inflated ego, Ed's self-confidence was as fragile as any boy his age, and having to deal with a doctor—especially a female doctor—over something as private and embarrassing as this was quite a blow. The latter, however, made Clara raise her brows in speculation; she'd ordered Ed in no uncertain terms to come back for a checkup after he resumed sexual activity, but did that quite explain why he looked like a quarter mile of heavily travelled road?
"Good morning, Edward," she said, slipping into a professional manner and forcing back any hint of a leer. Coolly sympathetic, that was the ticket. "How are you feeling today?"
Ed muttered something incomprehensible. Clara smiled, and gestured to the examining table. "Why don't you sit?"
Ed eyed the sharp corners of the wooden furniture, and slouched down a little further. "'D really rather stand," he said.
Clara sharpened her tone. "Sit," she barked. Ed jumped a little, then scurried to obey, and her sharp eyes didn't miss the wince when he sat.
"Feeling pain, Edward?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically. "Mmm, that's not a good sign, you know. The disease should have fully regressed by now. Take off your clothes so I can examine you."
"It has fully regressed," Ed hastened to assure her, "that is, I mean, umm, the blue colour is all gone. Completely. You said that once it was gone, it was okay to have sex!" he added, somewhat accusingly.
Clara coughed into her hand, only dropping her fingers when she was certain her expression was neutral. "Indeed I did. Have you resumed intercourse, then?"
Ed ducked his head. "Yes," he muttered.
"But you're still feeling pain?"
"Yes, but... I mean..."
"That's not a good sign, Edward," she said seriously. "It could be an indication that the disease has remissed.
"It's not from that," he said, and as if a dam had been broken, colour flooded his face.
"Well, then, what's it from?" Clara said patiently.
Ed muttered something.
"As your doctor, Edward, I need to know these things," Clara chided him. "Or else I'll have to assume that you're still sick, and provide some medicine to contemplate. Perhaps an injection..."
"No injections!" Ed yelped, and the blush in his face went suddenly pale. "It's because he made me bottom for him all night, okay? He said that since it was my fault in the first place that he got sick, that I should be the one to suffer from four months of no sex! I said we could switch off but no, he made me take it all night! All night!"
"Oh, dear," Clara said, working hard to keep her voice sounding sympathetic and not amused. "That sounds a little..."
"Unfair, isn't it?" Once he'd gotten started, Ed was hard to shut up. "I said I was sorry, didn't I? That wasn't enough for him, no! He even made me promise to—Anyway, it wasn't my fault, not really! How was I supposed to know I'd picked up some damned disease and given it to him? I didn't even notice anything until after he started getting the symptoms!"
He paused for breath, and Clara blinked, then reached up to adjust her glasses. "Really?" she mused, half to herself. "How unusual. This disease is very predictable, almost straightforward in its progression. It doesn't have a variable time of onset—the time window between infection and first displaying the colour is always the same length, in this strain."
Ed gaped at her, cut off in mid-rant. It took him a few seconds to sputter out a response. "Wait—wait. Are you saying that he got it before I did? That he—was the one to give it to me, not the other way around?"
Clara nodded, gravely. "It would have to be," she agreed. "If he showed symptoms first, he would have had to have gotten it first, no matter how unlikely it seems."
Ed sat there for a few moments, mouth working without sound, eyes glazed over. "That bastard," he said, almost calmly. "And he even made me—I'll kill—wait, I can't kill him! Where the heck did he—The colonel. I'll kill him. I'll definitely kill him!"
He was out of her office so fast, Clara didn't even have time to offer him one of the numbing salves she'd been thinking of in her back closet, to help with the limp.
The door flew off its hinges this time, and Roy sighed as he put the pen down again. Ed didn't bother with any so-called niceties this time, instead grabbing the man by the collar, kneeling on the desk. Roy very slowly raised a gloved hand, fingers poised to snap. "Fullmetal?" he inquired courteously.
"YOU LIAR! YOU FUCKING LIAR! You should have TOLD ME that you were SLEEPING WITH MY BROTHER! He gave ME the disease, NOT YOU!"
Roy blinked at him.
"AND THEN," Ed ranted, "HE MADE ME BOTTOM. ALL. NIGHT. Do you have ANY IDEA how SORE I am right now, JERK?"
"Fullmetal—Edward—ED, stop choking me grk—" Roy took a deep breath when the pressure was removed, then said acidly, "I am being quite truthful, Edward, when I say I have not slept with Alphonse!"
"Yeah? THEN WHO HAS? IT HAS TO BE YOU, YOU SHIT—"
Edward was interrupted just then as Riza Hawkeye, blushing—blushing—dropped her clipboard and backed out of the room.
The shout was enough to make Al drop the book he was engrossed in, and look up, startled, as his brother stormed the room. "Brother, what is it?" he said worriedly. "Did Clara have bad news!"
"Yes! I mean, no!" Ed shook his head, as if to clear it, and took a breath. "Listen, Al, I need you to tell me something honestly."
"Honestly?" Al began to get a little nervous. "Go ahead."
Ed's eyes narrowed. "Did you or did you not sleep with Riza Hawkeye?" he demanded.
For a moment, Al stared at him. Then a blush began to creep up from his neck into his face, answering Ed's question as surely as any verbal confirmation would have done.
"Gah!" Ed grabbed fistfuls of his blond hair, then forced himself not to fly off the handle. "Clara says you had the virus before I did. That means you must have gotten it from somewhere, and if Hawkeye was the only person besides me that you slept with, then she must have—"
"Are you saying that I got the virus from Hawkeye, and not you?" Alphonse interrupted, eyes widening with horror. "Brother, that can't be! It's impossible!"
"Eh?" Ed scowled at Al, hands still tangled in his hair. "Why's that?"
"Because!" Al was still bright red, and he waved his arms around as if to communicate without need for explicit words. "Because she's a girl, brother!"
There was a dead ringing silence, then Ed said, quite carefully, "Are you saying that this is a male-only disease?"
"Clara said so when I went to see her last week for a check-up," Al replied cautiously. "Girls can't even carry it."
"WHO THE HELL ELSE DID YOU SLEEP WITH?!"
"Well... Um... That is, I..."
"I—um... Well... I want you to know that I was really, really drunk, brother, after that office party with the spiked punch, and, um, I did some stuff that I really regretted later—"
Ed glared, and Al eeped, backing behind the sofa. "Just tell me," his brother said acidly, "Who you had sex with."
"WarrentOfficerFarman," Al said.
"What really gets me," Ed grumbled, "is that you just assumed that it was my fault and I'd gotten it from Roy, when you never even thought about Hawkeye and Farman."
Al sighed. Like a forest fire, Ed's outraged rant had eventually died down to smoulders, but it still burst into new complaint every now and then. "I already said I'm sorry," he said humbly.
"Yeah, yeah..." Ed waved him off, frowning as he paced around the cramped room. "The Colonel never even had it. He's never going to let me live this down, you know. I told you about Roy, you could have at least told me about Farman—"
"Brother, I honestly didn't remember," Al protested weakly, curled up on the bed and clutching the pillow. He felt pretty bad, though. Not only had he carelessly slept around behind his brother's back, then gotten him sick, but he'd blamed Ed for everything, when it turned out Ed was actually the victim.
He just wished Ed would stop rubbing it in.
"'I don't think my parts are supposed to be that colour...' Hah! 'Ask him what you gave me' my ass. Four months of no sex and then you made me bottom, no less, I'm telling you Al, completely unfair—"
Ed wheeled around, raising his hand to point accusatorily at Al, then stopped abruptly as he noticed for the first time Al's miserable expression and posture. "What's with you?" he demanded in astonishment.
"I'm sorry." Al tightened his grip on the pillow, and buried his face in it as he sniffled. "I'm really sorry, Brother. I fucked up."
"Oh, hey now," Ed said, sounding alarmed. The bed shifted as Ed climbed carefully onto it, and a moment later his arm settled carefully over Al's shoulder. "Look, I take back what I said, okay? I'm not mad, honest."
Al sniffled again, and rubbed his face with his hand. "But it's still my fault," he said in a tiny voice. "I made you sick."
"Hey, look," Ed said firmly, and tugged on the pillow until he could see Al's face clearly. "I've made bigger fuckups, right? At least neither of us lost any parts this time, and we're both fine, right?" he joked. "Right, Al?"
Al took a breath, then nodded and smiled at Ed. Ed grinned in response, and pulled him into a hug tight enough that he had trouble breathing. A friendly scuffle ensued, that ended with Al pinning Ed down on the mattress, and Ed shoving the pillow into Al's face.
"Hey, Brother," Al said, voice muffled by the pillow. He pushed it aside, and peered down at Ed with an innocent expression. "You're still gonna keep your promise, right?"
Ed's face blanked out with surprise. "What promise?"
"To be my slave for a week?" Al said hopefully.
The whole mess was categorized as one of those things nobody should ever speak of again, under penalty of maiming. There were marks left, however. For one, Edward's new found suspicion towards Hawkeye and Farman—though the latter sincerely did not seem to know what was going on.
Alphonse was the one who regretted it the most.
"Brother, that's ridiculous. It won't happen a second time. I know better than to get drunk again. I promise."
Edward growled and approached, cornering his brother. "You slept with Hawkeye and Farman. Now shut up and put the damn chastity belt on so I can lock it!"