It said a lot about Edward's life, that when he woke up to find a warm body sprawled over his chest, one arm draped over his thighs and the other tucked under his pillow, two legs dragging the blanket off his feet, his first thought was to wonder why their bed was that empty.
He opened his eyes to the dim half-light of the morning coming in through the blinds, and peered down at the head pillowed on his chest. Blond, which didn't help much. But the ends of hair tickling his nipple and collarbone had a fine, cut-off feeling, which mean that the person sleeping on him was short-haired... which meant there was only one person it could be.
Ed smiled, letting his head fall back on the pillow, as he felt the steady push and fall of breathing against his side. Alfons' breathing was slow, but deep and even, only the slightest of hitches discernible.
The cleaner air and better, more advanced medical technology of Amestris—Ed's homeland—had been able to do what all of Germany's doctors and leeches couldn't. It had been touch and go in some places, but slowly Alfons' health had pulled out of its steady decline, and given the young man a new lease on life.
Ed frowned slightly; that thought pushed dangerously at the border of sappiness, but it seemed appropriate somehow. Particularly since a new lease on life—a new life, a new birth—was what he got the first moment he'd seen his brother's face again.
As if summoned by his thoughts, soft footsteps approaching the bedroom heralded the return of the bed's missing occupant. Ed couldn't help but grin soppily as Al reappeared in the doorway, dressed in a bathrobe, shoulder-length hair in disarray around his shoulders. He was carrying a glass of something liquid, and smiled to see Ed awake.
"Hey," Ed said, all other thoughts deserting his head for a moment. Alfons was still lying on his chest, though, so he kept his voice hushed.
"Good morning, Brother," Al replied happily, and padded softly across the room. "How is he?"
Ed raised his left hand—the one that wasn't being slept on—and carefully ran his fingers through Alfons' hair. "Sleeping, finally," he said softly. "Doctor says that's what he needs most of all right now. He's not waking himself up coughing every half hour any more, at least, so I really think he's getting better."
"I'm glad," Al said, simply and sincerely, and Ed had to smile again. It never ceased to amaze him, how direct and pure his brother could be sometimes, in the way he cared for and loved without conditions or reservations.
Al looked at Alfons medatively for a moment, and then added, "Does that mean we can start having sex again soon?"
Ed choked back his indignant squawk into a strangled yelp, but Alfons still stirred and mumbled a little at the spastic motion. "Al!" Ed gasped, getting hold of himself with an effort.
"It's a fair question, Brother," Al protested. "We had to stop when Al-fons got so weak, and you said it wouldn't be fair for us to carry on without him. Now that he's stronger again, I'm sure he'll want to start up again as soon as possible—"
"Don't answer for him!" Ed hissed with embarassment, still trying to keep his voice down. "And for the love of God, Al, don't just come out and say things like that to me when I'm in a precarious position. Alfons is finally peacefully asleep and there is absolutely no way I'm going to move and wake him up while he needs his rest."
Al blinked. Ed glared, putting as much older-brother-command-presence into his gaze as he could. He was still the oldest dammit, well, except for Alfons, who was asleep now so didn't count, and he expected respect.
"Oh," and Al got positively demure, "are you really sure about that, Brother?"
"Huh?" As Ed watched warily, Al perched on the edge of the bed, the empty side away from Alfons, and set his glass down on the nightstand. His weight made the mattress dent just a bit. "What are you talking about?"
"Are you sure nothing could get you to move?" Al said, and there was a glint in his eye, something positively evil and predatory, that made Ed a little uneasy.
"No," Ed said. "Stop being so pushy."
But Al just smiled innocently, and fished around in the glass for a minute, before crawling up onto the bed. Sometime in the night, the various twistings and turnings of three bodies had pulled the blankets and sheets away from Ed's feet, leaving them exposed, and the blanket was well out of easy reach. As Al crawled towards the foot of the bed, Ed frowned. "Could you pull the sheets up for me, Al?"
But instead, Al stopped kneeling by Ed's human foot, shot him a bright grin, reached out and...
...pressed the ice against the sensitive sole of Edward's foot.
It was a Herculean task, but Ed managed to gulp back his indignant howl before it could escape his lips. He coudn't stop his foot from jerking back, though, and Alfons grunted and mumbled a bit as he was rocked. Ed's eyes blazed indignation at Al, lips peeling back on a snarl, but he didn't dare yell like he wanted to for fear of disturbing Alfons further.
Al's smile widened, fooling nobody with its innocence, and his hand followed Ed's foot up the blanket. Ed twitched as the icy shock descended on his foot again. "Cut it out! Al!" he hissed desperately.
"Are you still ticklish, Brother?" Al asked in innocent wonder even as he traced the corner of the ice cube around the callouses and arch of Ed's foot. Ed squirmed desperately, hampered by Alfons' body; the farther he retreated up the mattress, the farther Al followed him, until he was in danger of kneeing Alfons in the ribs. He tried turning the sole of his foot down onto the sheets, as a last resort, but Al—the bastard! the unmitigated, sadistic little fiend that was posessing his brother's body!—just turned the ice cube over the to ticklish top of his foot, instead.
"Al!" Ed whined, kicking out a little—but Alfons shifted around on his chest with even that movement, so he forced himself to stay still. "Cut it out! I'm serious! Alfons needs his ah, ahhhh, his sleep!"
"Well..." Al said in a hushed tone, easily ducking to the side to avoid a flailing foot, "that'll depend on you, won't it?"
"It'll depend on you aaaahaha stoppit stoppit stoppit!"
Ed writhed. It appeared he WAS still sensitive on the back of his knee, after all.
There was obviously no reasoning with his sadistic brother. Ed whimpered, clenching his teeth to keep anything louder from escaping. He tried to push Al away with his free hand, or at least whack him, but Al was on the other side of him and he couldn't reach him over Alfons' warm, motionless body. No amount of kicking and scuffling was deterring Al, or the slow sliding path of the ice up his leg.
Al had picked a pace that was pure torture, sliding the ice up just fast enough that his skin didn't become numb to it, but slow enough to make his muscles clench under his skin with anticipation. Worse yet, as the ice slowly melted, trickles of icy-cold water ran own under the back of his knee and thigh, tickling unbearably and chilling his skin as they evaporated. Damn it, Al didn't used to be this sadistic. He could swear he wasn't, before he'd gotten his memories back. Was he taking a subtle revenge on Ed for all the years in armor? It must be something like that...
"C'mon, Al," he wheedled in between gasps, "Whatever I did, I'm sorryyEEEE... I'll make it up to you, promise..."
"Don't be silly, Brother," Al said, with deadly sweet affection in his voice. "I'm not mad at you."
Somehow Ed didn't believe him.
Al scooted up a little further on the bed, until he was practically kneeling over Ed's thighs, and grinned at him. Ed tried to clock him with his knee, but to no avail—Al had all the leverage and freedom of movement he wanted. "I just like watching you react to things."
"Whu?" All rational thought vanished from Ed's mind as Al's fingers guided the last sliver of ice up the top of his thigh and under the loose edge of his boxers. As it entered this new furnace of body heat, it melted away entirely, into a splash of cold water that rolled down the crease of Ed's thigh. Ed twitched uncontrollably, slamming his head against the pillow, then stifled as cry as Al's chilled fingers continued inexorably to wrap around his cock. "Nononono, Al, come on, he needs his sleeeeep—"
"That's up to you, Brother," Al said mercilessly, and his fingers moved.
Ed couldn't stop himself. The feeling of Al's fingers on his cock went straight to his spinal cord and right back out to his muscles without stopping to consult his brain first. His hips bucked sharply, jolting Alfons from his place on his chest, and a loud cry escaped his lips. "Ah—ah!"
Alfons twitched in response, and both brothers froze, Al's hand still hidden in Ed's boxers, Ed panting rapidly. Ed swallowed, and raised his head cautiously. "Ah... Alfons?"
"Did you wake him up?" Al whispered. The icy chill of his fingers was rapidly dissipating, but that was less of a relief than Ed had anticipated, as the urge to thrust into that warm, knowing hand was almost overwhelming.
"...I think so. Shit. Alfons?"
Alfons stirred, then suddenly raised his head and grinned up at Ed. "I guess the jig is up, isn't it?" he said. "No use pretending to be asleep any longer."
Ed gawked. Al did too, a blush spreading on his face. "You were awake?" Ed demanded. "Why didn't you say anything? Argh, you, you! Since when?"
"Since you flailed around under me when Al attacked you," Alfons smirked, eerily similar to Al's innocent smile but with that added maturity to it. "It's kind of hard to sleep through you squawking like a wounded chicken."
"I do not—so why didn't you say anything?" Ed glared, and raised his flesh hand to try and shove Alfons off his chest. "Get off me!" Alfons didn't seem inclined to budge, and in between his leverage from on top of Ed and his greater mass, there didn't seem to be any way to make him.
Slowly, Al began to pull his hand back out from Ed's underwear, which prompted an involuntary gasp and shudder from Ed; quickly, Alfons' hand snaked out and caught Al's wrist, holding him in place. The older blond rolled over on his back, still covering Ed's chest, and grinned at his counterpart. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to stop," he said. "Those noises he was making were just too cute. You still don't have to, you know. I'll hold him down," he offered brightly.
The two of them shared a long look and a smile, and Ed began to feel the hand of Doom creeping up on him. He wiggled frantically to get out from Alfons, setting his left hand on Alfons' shoulder and shoving. His right hand, unfortunately, was still trapped under Alfons' weight on his side. "No, he does have to stop," he said, laughing nervously. "Since we're all awake, it's time to get up! Right? Bright and early face the day, ha, ha!"
Two pairs of eyes—one gold, one blue—turned on him instead, and Ed gulped. The hand of Doom—in the form of two relentless young bodies—descended, and the bed dissolved into a chaos of kicked sheets, flailing limbs, indignant protests and the crackle of alchemy.
Pinned against the soft sheets of the bed, he was bereft of leverage. Worse, Alfons was covering his arms, and while he had no compunctions with fighting fully back against Al, he worried about Alfons' ability to take a hit. Alfons exploited this kindness mercilessly, and before Ed knew what was happening to him he found a knee on his shoulder while Alfons pulled his arms over his head and he wrestled him towards the headboard.
"I can hold him for a minute," Alfons said, panting with exertion and excitement. "But not for long. Do you have anything which we could use to hold—"
Alfons stopped abruptly. Al was casually holding out a pair of handcuffs, padded in the color of their blankets. Alfons couldn't help but grin; this alchemy stuff was really useful sometimes. "Thanks, Al," he said, and ignored Ed's howls as he locked his wrists securely into the headboard.
"No problem," Al said brightly, completely nonplussed by the string of muffled swearing that followed. He flipped around, crawling towards the edge of the bed while Alfons took it on himself to wash his brother's mouth out for him, with tongue.
"You get his right leg," Al told him, as he came crawling back over the mountained blankets. "And I'll get his left. We don't have anywhere to be for ages, and I've got plenty of ice left."
Ed's wail of dread was completely disregarded.