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Moving On	By : RiekaDeVolka Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 347 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Moving On
- 1
Title:
Moving On.

Beta: No one, all mistakes my own.

Rating: NC-17.

Genre: Romance, Humor, Smut.

Pairings: Alex Armstrong/Alfons Heiderich, unrequited Edward
Elric/Alfons Heiderich. Supportive Jean Havoc/Alphonse Elric. Hints of Edward
Elric/Winry Rockbell.

Feedback: Please! Feed my crazy!

Word Count: +/- 7 161.

Summary: Moving on starts with yourself, you know? Not with what you
feel for Ed, but what you let yourself feel for others.

Notes: Written for the fma_fuh_q month challenge, Alfons Heiderich. Post
anime, post movie AU, in which Alfons came back to Amestris with Ed and Al. Oh,
and Olivia/Oliver Armstrong (manga) is mentioned here, why? Because I want to,
so there. I realize now I focused almost entirely on Alfons and ignored
Armstrong somewhat. Deeply sorry about that. Also, this came out a bit longer
than intended. And sappier. God, I�m writing sappy fluff. Kill me now.

~�~�~

Moving On.

~�~�~

This world is something else entirely,
Alfons concludes silently as he watches people go by about their own business,
paying no mind to the lonesome young man sitting on a bench in the park. Here
too, there has been a war recently, one that took away countless lives and left
an open wound that hasn�t had enough time to become a scar. Here too, people
cry and laugh and live, but they seem strangely detached from it, as if the
recent catastrophe is no importance to them. As if they can�t feel it.

Ed would probably accuse him of thinking
too much again, but it�s strange to see so many people, so many smiles.
For an irrational moment, Alfons misses Munich and its grey streets; at least
there, he figures, emotion was genuine. There, people cried and loved
and laughed and mourned for real. But this is not Munich and he knows
that, so there�s no point in wishing for what he has left behind. He had known
what he was giving up when he accepted to follow the Elrics back to their
world. He knew what he was chasing after.

Now that he is mostly cured, though,
uncertainty comes back to haunt him. He can�t go on living at the brothers�
expense, even if they consider him another sibling already, but there�s not
much a former engineer could do in a world where Alchemy is intrinsically
present and preferred over Physics and Math, and Alfons doesn�t think he can
ever learn Alchemy. It goes against everything he�s ever known, the very
principles he�s built his world upon. He doesn�t disdain it, quite the opposite
in fact; the process intrigues him and he wants to understand, but it�s
still too foreign a concept for him.

�Ah, young Alphonse, I was wondering-� the
voice stops when Alfons tilts his head backwards as far as it will go, blinking
at the mountain of man staring down at him. Major Armstrong blinks back when he
catches sight of the blue eyes, �My most sincere apologies, Mr. Heiderich, I
just-�

�It�s quite alright,� Alfons cuts him off
with a kind smile, amused more than anything that yet someone else has
confused him with his look-alike. Really, Al shouldn�t have cut his hair in the
first place, but the youngest blond is known for showing the natural Elric
impulsiveness in strange, unpredictable ways. Alfons is merely grateful he does
it in ways that don�t result in expensive repairs � that�s more of Ed�s style.
�Al�s at the lab, he said he had some new arrays he had to test.�

�As a matter of fact,� Armstrong smiles
back, in that eerie way of his that�s naturally intimidating, �I was looking
for you.�

�Me?� Alfons colors slightly when his
voice hitches a bit in a suspiciously squeaky way. �Why?�

�Young Edward speaks wonders of your
mechanical abilities.� Armstrong walks around the bench, coming to stand before
the younger blond � or, more accurately, towering over him. �I have need for a
discrete, trustworthy individual with such talents. You were the obvious
choice.�

�Oh.� Alfons nods, absently wondering what
he�s getting into, �okay.�

~�~�~

It occurs to Alfons, once he has started
following the Major back to his home, that it would be wise to ask what
needs to be repaired. The taller man is intimidating, though, and while
the smaller blond tries to find a polite way to inquire about the matter, they
reach the apartment complex. Al cranes his neck back, blinking. Working under
the government certainly pays well, it seems. Some times, it�s startling to
realize he doesn�t have to scramble around to figure out what to eat anymore �
not that he misses the miserable times he and Ed had endured the first time
they shared the apartment, squeezing everything to the last drop. They don�t
waste now, either, as misery has left its mark on them, but Ed often indulges Alfons
with those sweet lemon caramels he loves so much, for no other reason than
having a couple extra coins in his pocket.

Those are wonderfully torturous moments,
too, so Alfons tries hard to not think about them.

�Here,� Armstrong opens the gate, but leads
the hesitant blond to the basement, rather than the building itself, �it�s more
quiet and private...�

�Oh, wow.�

Alfons feels his mouth dry slightly as he
catches sight of the well kept old cars. Models that are meant to be ornate,
rather than functional, gleaming under the muted light of the lamp overhead. Oh,
he thinks rather absently, as he steps further into the room. There isn�t much
to do, really, except admire the delicate craftsmanship of each and every
vehicle, the minute details that form such a perfect image.

�I understand this is not your preferred
branch of mechanics,� Armstrong�s voice rings on Alfons� left ear and he yelps
slightly; he�s almost forgotten about the taller man for a moment, �but I�m
sure it won�t be too much of a strain for a man of your talents. Besides,� the
tall alchemist smiles, �I�m sure we�ll come to terms for an appropriate
payment.�

Payment. The word replays itself in his
mind for a couple of times, he twists and shifts it around to make sure it is
the right word, then decides he likes it. Alfons blinks.

�Are you hiring me to fix your cars?� For
some reason, the idea seems to hold humor, and he tilts his head to the side,
amused.

�If you have no objections, of course.�
Armstrong strikes a mildly disturbing pose that Alfons supposes could be
considered dramatic; �It would be a great aid if you helped me with one in
particular,� the taller man points to the only car that isn�t near sparkling
perfection; it looks rather battered and worse for wear than the rest, �The
Armstrong Family tradition dictates that birthday gifts to one parent must be
given in cooperation between siblings. My sister had this wonderful idea and
sent it over from her post.�

Sister. Alfons pauses for a moment,
scrambling his brain to remember who the Major�s sister is. It takes him
almost a full minute, shuffling through all the new faces � or faces that
aren�t new, only different � before he recalls a buxom, young woman with
bright green eyes. Oh.

�Katherine, you mean?� While he talks,
Alfons walks around the battered car, running a list of what was going to be
needed to bring the vehicle back to its former glory.

�Eh, no,� and suddenly the Major looks nervous
for some reason, which makes Alfons look up at him bewildered; Alex Armstrong never
looks nervous. Overly affectionate and extremely dramatic? Sure. Nervous?
Never. �It was Oliver�s idea, actually.�

Alfons figures it would be impolite to ask
why a woman would be named Oliver, so he nods in what he hopes
seemed understanding and makes a mental note to keep the topic away from
conversations � and possibly his own mind � from then onwards. Armstrong is
looking at him expectantly, hanging onto his answer to his offer almost
desperately. The young mechanic understands the need for discretion: given the nature
of what he�s seen of the Armstrong family, it will require a titanic effort to
keep everything from leaking to the intended target; and those aren�t cheap
cars, either, he�s sure they could be sold over for collectors in a small
fortune each. So yes, it is an important job, one that requires secrecy
and trust, and which will, most likely, give him enough to start a new life on
his own. Not that he wants to get away from the brothers � he loves them too
much to want to be away from them � but maybe a bit of distance would be
prudent.

More so given Ed�s nature to not
understand what he feels.

Still, he can�t help but think about what
their reactions would be, he�s been planning to start his own life here in this
world for months, but there are always their feelings to be considered.
Alfons doesn�t want to hurt them, but this is an opportunity that won�t come
twice, not so neatly placed on a silver platter for him to take. Looking up at
the Major, he knows it�s a horrible idea. Terrible. Enough to make Ed throw a
gasket. Hell, Alfons knows it�s good � the good variety of bad � enough to make
Al throw a gasket. Thus, he smiles genuinely when Armstrong repeats his
offer.

It�s not like he'll let of a couple of
sparkles stop him, anyway.

Even if they are rather unnerving.

Maybe he and the Major ought to have a
talk before they take any furthers steps. Yes. That sounds almost like a plan.

�Alright.�

The sparkles glitter again and Alfons
shudders minutely. Definitely a talk first.

~�~�~

When Armstrong told him he had eight
months to fix the car, Alfons thought it was a bit exaggerated. When he began
to examine the thing carefully, he realized that eight months might not be enough
to bring it back to the land of the living. The engine is broken, there are too
many replaced pieces in it that aren�t original and the interior is quite,
quite run down by time and rough handling. It needs a paint job, too. By the
time he�s done calculating the repairs and the cost of them, Alfons is convinced
that while the car had been expensive and luxurious once upon a time,
it�s now only a shell of what it must have been. He tells Armstrong as much,
including how it would be far easier to simply buy a new model and be
done with it.

�Ah, but then you would be left
unemployed, my friend,� Armstrong says gently, pink sparkles at either side of
his head, �But I appreciate your sincerity, it only serves to show me what a
trustworthy individual you are.� He pats Alfons� back lightly, and still
the shorter man feels all his internal organs rearranging themselves with loud
protests. �However, it cannot be, this has to be the car to be given.
It�s a memento of better times for my father, I simply cannot replace it.�

Alfons agrees then, shrugging. He
acknowledges the sentiment, it even works on his favor as it lets him keep the
job, but he can�t fathom where to start. He will need to plan a very
detailed schedule to keep up with the promise to deliver on time. And he will
need to work hard, sleep a bit less and wander around getting the parts he
needs� he will be doing something, which is exactly what he wants, what
he needs.

It works well both ways, Alfons thinks absently, tossing the beer the Major insists they
share to honor their contract, like equivalent exchange� the idea makes
him snort with dark humor and smile wryly at the massive man peering down
curiously at him. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only because
Armstrong is much too dramatic to not feel insulted by the gesture.

Alchemists.

~�~�~

�You�re going out again?� Ed all
but whines at him, giving a very skeptical look.

Alfons loves him, really loves him � the
fluttering in his stomach has reduced considerably over time and it doesn�t hurt
to think about it anymore, but he still loves him � though even he has
his limits.

�Yes, Ed,� he smiles as pleasantly as he
can, because it would be unbecoming of him to snap and make a racket because Ed
has asked him the same damned thing every day, �I have some errands to
run.�

�Where?�

�Ed,� Al doesn�t have nearly half
of Alfons� patience or limits with his brother, he simply grabs the end of Ed�s
ponytail and tugs not too gently on it, �leave Alfons alone, he�s got things to
do, and so do you.�

�Hey,� the shortest of the three snorts as
he pulls his hair back, frowning slightly, �I know, I just want to know what.
I�m worried, that�s all.�

While the two bicker about him � which
they always do whilst they ignore him, Alfons thinks wryly � the taller
blond gathers his jacket and leaves the apartment with a cheerful �bye!� that
of course goes unheard by the brothers.

Alfons does burst out laughing when he
hears the indignant squeak, all the way to the stairs.

�Girlfriend? What do you mean girlfriend?!�

When he reaches Armstrong�s place, the
grin is still there.

~�~�~

Alfons wheezes a bit when he unloads the
first batch of spare parts on the floor of the basement, his lungs protesting
the effort. It�s nothing like it was back in Munich, of course, no more
coughing up blood and scaring the living daylights out of his friends when he
had an attack. The treatment he had been subjected to � alchemically enhanced
medicine that tasted funny and burned on the way down � stopped the process and
reversed it slightly, but it couldn�t heal the damage completely. That�s
probably one of the reasons why Ed is suddenly so curious about his daylight
activities, he fears Alfons will strain himself and have a fallback with his
illness. It is, of course, such an Ed thing to do, lovely and
considerate while at the same time infuriating and annoying.

It makes Alfons love and hate loving the
bastard a bit more each time he asks.

But no time for that now, he thinks as he sets the parts carefully over a dirty rag and
begins making a catalogue of what goes where first. He has work to do,
and were he a lesser man, he would be gleefully humming whilst he goes around
about it. This reminds him of his first job, back in the day when he was
scrambling around to find a place in school and be someone important;
back then, when everything was shiny and new, and a healthy, strong lad who
didn�t mind working hard was welcome.

As it is, somewhere along the way, Alfons
does start humming, so when Armstrong comes into the room and places a hand on
his shoulder, he jerks in surprise, hitting his head on the trunk with a dull
thump.

�I apologize,� the taller man says in a
way that shows he means it, �I didn�t mean to startle you.�

�It�s fine.� And it is, because Alfons is
laughing a bit at himself. If Armstrong gives him a skeptical look, it doesn�t
matter, because Alfons loves his work and it is enough to draw him away from
restless thoughts about things that only hurt.

When was the last time he had been able to
sink deep enough into his work to avoid thinking about Ed? Probably back in
Munich. It�s been months, though, and the release of tension is welcome.
He thanks the Major for the drinks he�s brought him, and feels slightly nervous
when the man launches into a rant about the Armstrong tradition of being a Good
Host. It�s silly, of course, and bears no real importance, but it�s nice.

Alfons wonders why when either Al or Ed
take care of him, it never feels this way.

~�~�~

The Major is reading by the doorway,
sitting down on a chair and looking mildly cramped into it as he passes the
pages of a tiny book. Alfons thinks it�s quite a sight, but he doesn�t laugh
because that wouldn�t be polite and he can understand how there aren�t many
things made for a man that size. Still, the Major has been coming down
to the basement daily for a while now, after asking Alfons if he didn�t mind
the company. He doesn�t. Armstrong is quiet and content to remain on his little
corner, and he�s kind enough to let Alfons ask for help before
rushing to do everything that needs to be done, much like Ed does whenever
Alfons is trying to do anything. It�s sort of nice to be able to do
things on his own, without having to fight teeth and claw to prove he can.

�Major Armstrong?� It�s also nice to know
he can ask for help and don�t get a pity look shoved down his throat,
he�s not useless! �Would you mind lending me a hand here?�

�Alex, Alfons,� the taller blond chides
him gently, �my name is Alex, I have told you before you can use it.�

Nevertheless he gets up from his tiny chair
and walks calmly all the way to the broken car, which is surrounded by a halo
made of spare parts and smiles at the smaller man. Alfons shrugs and blushes
slightly, but he can�t tell the Major that his grandmother used to throw a
gasket whenever he called someone by first name rather than respectfully by
last. It�s one of those things that�s deeply engraved in his mind, and while he
likes the Major, he�s also his employer. It�s quite an effort to stop
the Herr from spilling every now and then, as things are.

�There you go,� Armstrong says as he lets
the heavy box down. Along the way, he rips off his shirt, but by now, Alfons is
expecting it and doesn�t have a heart attack � like he so shamefully almost did
the first time, but to his defense, the taller blond had done it without reason
and it had scared him witless � instead, he merely shakes his head when
the sparkles glint almost coquettishly at him. �Is there much left to do for
you today?�

Alfons is already back to grease and spare
parts, so he looks up with mild surprise. He�s getting used to the Major�s
tendency to ask things apparently out of the blue, or maybe simply asking before
doing. He shrugs.

�Eh, I�m a bit ahead of schedule,
actually.� He smiles, because he�s pleased and proud of his own work
rate, and when Armstrong compliments him about it, he knows he�s being
sincere. �Why?�

~�~�~

Alfons thinks this is a nice way to spend
the afternoon, though the sparkles are slightly unnerving. But the food is good
and his hosts are kind and welcoming, and he really can�t remember the last
time he laughed so much on a single day. Not to say Ed and Al don�t make him
laugh or feel happy, because they do, but after the frantic efforts to heal him
were over, they had easily slid back into their own routines. Ed has Winry, the
military and Mustang to entertain himself, while Al has� well, whatever Al does
all day, and which Alfons has never been privy to.

Mrs. Armstrong is quite bent in fatting
him up though, and that�s vaguely uncomfortable, but Katherine is being
charming and Mr. Armstrong is very, very formal in a strange familiar way that
reminds Alfons of his own father, so it�s alright. The Major keeps looking at
him every now and then, almost expecting him to show any awkwardness, so Alfons
makes an extra effort to smile reassuringly.

That�s too many big people in the room and
certainly far too many sparkles, but while Alfons whistles a tune on his way
back to his and the brothers� apartment, he�s startled to realize he�s happy.
Honest to god happy, as he hasn�t been since he was four and his grandma baked
him cookies when the climate was too harsh for him to go and play outside.

He�s quite positive he�s beaming, so
perhaps that�s why Ed does a slight double take when he passes him in the
hallway. Alfons grins all the way to his room, while Al merely shakes his head
and buries his nose into his book.

~�~�~

Today, Alfons is not happy. Today, Alfons
is bristling, so positively pissed off, people actually move out of his
way on the street. Today Armstrong pauses in the doorway, awkwardly debating
whether it�s safe or not to enter the room and bother its extremely volatile
inhabitant. Alfons never loses his smile, except for today, and it must have
been something truly awful to keep him in such an incensed mood. Armstrong is
intrigued.

Inside the basement, as he prowls around
the car, wrench in one hand and dirty rag in the other, covered in oil and
looking like a fussed cat, Alfons rants quietly, hissing violently in a way
that contradicts his nature, because he�s Alfons. He just doesn�t get
angry.

��well fuck it.�

Armstrong chokes a bit at the coarse
language, as it�s spat with enough viciousness to rival Ed�s on a bad morning.
Then the irritated hisses turn into an irate grumble in a language Armstrong
does not know, but which sounds rough and forceful, and absolutely unbecoming
of kind, tender Alfons. Of course, kind, tender Alfons is currently fuming
enough to put any medium sized volcano to shame, but that�s not precisely the
point.

He hasn�t even noticed Armstrong is in the
room.

The taller man clears his throat
nervously, perplexed by the sudden change in demeanor in his � dare he say it?
� friend, and more than a little peeved at being ignored. Armstrong makes a
mental note to make whoever aggravated Alfons so be wholly regretful they did.
Alfons is a common face in the Armstrong household by now, be it in Armstrong�s
tiny apartment or at the family home; he takes lunch and occasionally dinner
with them, and if the sparkles intimidate him, he keeps it well under wraps.
Alfons likes intelligent conversation and enjoys listening to the music the
Major likes best. Alfons always smiles a quiet smile that�s far more pleasing
than any other Armstrong has ever encountered; Ed smiles like the sun, bright
and glaring, while Mustang smiles like a cat, sneaky and smug; Hawkeye smiles
like a chilly winter morning, Havoc has autumn written all over his face and
Alphonse is a thunderstorm in summer; but not Alfons. Alfons is like a quiet
spring morning, watching dawn and listening to the quiet world that�s slowly
awakening.

Alfons is Alfons is Alfons is Alfons, and
Armstrong might be feeling slightly inappropriate things towards him
now, but it�s not like he can stop it.

�What?� Alfons snaps rather acidly, all
hell and fury written in his face, and Armstrong physically steps back,
cringing, �Came here to do what the poor, helpless Alfons can�t do on
his own?�

Armstrong says nothing, because he�s far
more interested in the tears of frustration that are making the clear blue eyes
blurry and crystal-like. He gives two tentative steps towards the young man
currently crumbling before him, noting with anxiety that the grip around the
wrench is knuckle-white and that the hand is trembling. Alfons� hands never
tremble while he�s working.

�Alfons?�

�Why can�t I do anything on my own?� He�s
trembling from head to toe, torn between screaming and crying out, and for once
Armstrong feels something stop him before he can follow his first instinct and
cradle the smaller man in his arms. �Let�s go and do everything for poor,
helpless Alfons, of course, because he can�t do a fucking thing on
his own. And why should he? Hm? He�s useless on his own. Too fucking
stupid to keep his feelings to his own, too fucking stupid to stop loving
someone who doesn�t love him, hm? Poor, helpless Alfons, we have to help
him, don�t we?�

Armstrong does a very impulsive thing
right then and there, because this is not right, and while he�s
perceptive enough � and has trustworthy sources � to notice how much Ed�s
unintentional insensitiveness hurts Alfons, he�s not about to sit down and
watch the show. He rests his palms on the thin shoulders � deceptively fragile
shoulders, because they�ve carried the weight of the world and haven�t broken
yet � and smiles.

�Perhaps we do have to help him,�
Armstrong rumbles quietly, catching the teary eyes with his own, �because he
deserves far better than he�s got.�

When he leans in and catches the thin,
elusive lips that smile like spring, the sparkles glint a bit brighter and Time
is merciful with them, she slows down to a standstill.

~�~�~

�It�s okay, Ed�s not home yet.�

Alfons jumps startled and feels he�s
leaped three feet off the ground when Al�s pensive voice reaches him. The youngest
Elric is perched, as per usual, on the couch with one of those ludicrous
romance novels that make Ed gag and a cup of chocolate that�s got more than a
generous doze of rum in it. He beckons Alfons closer and pats seat next to him.
Alfons is jerky and looking a bit like a scared, wild animal, but Al keeps the
metaphor to himself, because that wouldn�t be polite.

�So,� he shoves his cup into the trembling
hands, not minding when it spills slightly, �want to talk about it?�

Alfons sighs warily and nods, because he kissed
Major Alex Louis Armstrong, and yes, fuck, yes, he needs to talk
about it. Even if it�s only to convince himself it actually happened.

~�~�~

The next day, Armstrong isn�t in the
basement and Alfons feels a pang of guilt about it. Al�s words, vague and
reassuring, help him force himself back into the spacious room, as he�s lost a
whole day with his little tantrum, but he�s determinate to make things work. Al
has this queer ability to make sense of things that by all rights shouldn�t be
sensible, and that�s why Alfons is feeling strangely lighthearted today.

Ed didn�t mean to insinuate he couldn�t
survive on his own, of course he wouldn�t ever think, much less say,
something so cruel. But Al is right and Alfons would be doing to Armstrong the
same thing Ed � unknowingly � did to him if he clings to Ed and refuses
to move on. Moving on starts with yourself, you know? Not with what you feel
for Ed, but what you let yourself feel for others.

Maybe all those crappy romance novels are
good for something.

�Alfons.� Armstrong looks sad and the
guilt comes back to gnaw at Alfons, because even the sparkles look muted today.
So he puts up a brave face and smiles gently, because he�s sorry and he wants
Armstrong to know. �I thought you wouldn�t be coming after��

�I�m sorry,� blue eyes, clear and
tearless, show the Major that this is Alfons, kind, tender Alfons and
perhaps there�s hope yet, �I was upset, yesterday, and I snapped at you, when I
had no right.�

�I apologize!�

Alfons takes a moment to blink in
bewilderment when the taller man is suddenly kneeling in front of him, crying
out in despair � he swears the sparkles are crying, too � and rambling
on about apologies. It�s a very curious sight, he thinks, and blinks again when
it doesn�t go away the first time. He�s always known Armstrong likes to dive
onto the overly dramatic side of things, and maybe it�s rubbed off on him now,
because he leans in and kisses the older man to shut a ramble he really doesn�t
want to hear.

He�s going to buy Al something nice
for this, but not now. Later.

Armstrong kisses him back, broad hands
grasping at his sides and Alfons smiles.

Later.

~�~�~

Three weeks later, Alfons realizes he�s
being courted. And while the idea in itself is hilarious � Alex
Armstrong is chaste � it�s rather infuriating considering he�s a healthy
young man with needs. It�s also rather unnerving to think he has
needs about Armstrong, and those needs might go beyond the physical, but
he�s not quite ready to explore that yet. He�s not even sure he wants to
fully acknowledge the physical needs.

But that�s not the point.

The point is that it�s been three weeks of
kissing and light caress and that�s it. He�s not about to jump into the
Major�s pants, so to speak, but he�d have expected things to go, well, a bit faster.
In his little flights of fancy about Ed, things always get a lot hotter a lot
faster, but given Ed�s temperament, it�s to be expected. He tries not to think
about a particularly disturbing incident a few days ago, where in the middle of
a� private session, Ed suddenly grew taller and broader and sparklish,
because Alfons is terribly mortified about having reached orgasm the exact
moment he figured out who Ed was turning into.

Just now, as he climbs the stairs to the
apartment � why again had they thought living in a fifth floor in a
building without a lift was a good idea? � Alfons knows his lips are tingly and
slightly bruised, abused by a mouth that�s larger and firmer than his own. He
shivers a bit and loosens the collar of his shirt, feeling out of breath.
Partly because of those thrice damned stairs, partly because despite the fact
Armstrong never so much as hints his hands below waistline, he�s found the back
of his neck to be unnecessarily sensitive.

�Al! I�m home!�

When silence welcomes him, Alfons closes
the door quietly and wanders warily into the apartment. Al�s always home after
lunch time, sitting on the couch and reading a novel, or messing around the
kitchen since he�s the only one in the house that can make anything remotely
edible. And then, there�s a strange noise coming from the small corridor that
connects their living room with their separate rooms and Alfons tenses visibly.
If there�s an intruder in the apartment, he knows he�s not really much of a
defense force, but he can at least make a racket and pose some resistance. With
those thoughts in mind, he grabs a spatula from the kitchen and slides
carefully into the corridor.

The lights are out, but the sound echoes
again, faint and yet clearer than the first time, making the hairs on the back
of his hair stand.

It sounds� primitive, and the first
thing that comes to Alfons� mind is �shit, there�s an animal in there�,
and the second, once he figures out the noises are coming from Al�s room
is �shit.�

If he were Ed, he would charge into the
room, waving the spatula as a mighty sword or something equally ridiculous and
brave, but since he isn�t, he opens the door slowly and calls out a meek, half
scared, half worried:

�Al?�

And then Havoc, who�s busy covering Al�s
body with his own while pressing his erection into the pliant and willing body
below him, yelps in surprise, which is seconded by Al�s untimely gasp of
indignation, which mirrors Alfons� almost perfectly. Alfons stares at the
startled pair through wide, blinking eyes for a great total of two seconds,
before he squeaks in a manner reminiscent of a guinea pig and scrambles
out of the room, back pedaling with all his might.

After the spatula clatters on the floor,
Al throws his head back against the pillows, still spread open and willing,
and howls with laughter as Havoc falls to the floor with little grace.

~�~�~

Alfons has never been so embarrassed
in his life. Not even when his grandma decided he was man enough to know what a
man did to girls � a terribly traumatic experience, indeed � and not even that
jerky, half formed confession of his feelings to an oblivious Ed. Never.
Sitting in the kitchen with a, mercifully, dressed Al and a rue-ish Havoc, Alfons
doesn�t know how to feel. It�s like a jinx; he�d been complaining about the
lack of excitement in his life, and the Universe � or The Gate, as
alchemists are prone to say � decided to give him it.

Except that, as usual, it�s not what or
how Alfons wanted it.

�I think you need to be more� aggressive,�
Al says calmly while he sips his tea. He�s sitting awfully close to Havoc,
nearly on his lap, and while Alfons himself has found he likes sitting
on the Major�s lap, he would never think of doing it in public. �Lord
knows I almost had to corner Jean in the office to get the point across.�

Though the words are slightly stingy, Al
gives the older man a warm look and Havoc looks away with a minute snort,
puffing smoke as he does so. His cheeks color a bit, amusing Alfons momentarily
out of his own to-die-for awkwardness.

�Because your brother had nothing
to do with my reluctance,� the smoker remarks dryly, and then promptly avoids
an elbow to his ribs.

Alfons smiles indulgently, because they are
cute, and while it might not the wisest idea in the world to ask them for help
with his own woes, they seem to at least know more than he does. Though what
Havoc says is true; Alfons might not be Ed�s brother by blood, but to all
effects � and how surprising it is, to note there�s no pang of pain at the
observation � he is. Havoc and Armstrong, but mostly Havoc, are in danger of
Ed�s temper getting vicious and the best of him.

�Why Armstrong, anyway?� Havoc
muses in a way that could be insulting if it weren�t such a valid question,
�nothing wrong with the man, but I wouldn�t have thought of it. Ever.�

�You better don�t think of it,
either.�

Alfons ignores Al�s half hearted jab and
shrugs. Why Armstrong? It�s something he�s questioned himself more than a few times
� alone in bed, covered in sweat and semen, shivering and wondering why
� when the silence stares him down and there�s no work to take his mind off it.
Why would he want Armstrong with his glinting sparkles and his overdramatic
antics? Why would he go to someone who�s always listening to what he has to
say, who understands his nature to be quiet and polite? Why would he want
someone who looks at him with interest and devotion? Why would he want someone
who knows just the way to make him boneless with a few flickers of fingers? Why
would he accept someone who wants to love him?

�He looks at me,� Alfons smiles in a way
Al has never been before, but which Havoc finds scary in its similitude to Al�s
own content expression, �he really does look at me.�

�Oh boy,� and then Havoc is laughing,
quietly and around his cigarette, as he gives Al a very amused yet helpless
grin, �someone�s in love.�

~�~�~

Alfons realizes, in a distant, sober
corner of his brain, that he�s drunk. He�s also giddy and giggling like a girl,
but to his defense, today is a day to celebrate. Today, the
car-that-didn�t-really-looked-like-a-car-but-which-is-a-car finally
started. He even drove it around the block, testing the repairs. The best part
was when it didn�t go up in flames.

Armstrong seemed to share his glee, and
that�s why he�s sprawled over the man, on the couch of his living room, giggling,
because even if his alcohol tolerance is higher than Ed�s, it�s nowhere near
the Major�s. And those buttons on the jacket, they�re really shiny
against the coarse, blue fabric of the uniform. And that blush on Armstrong�s
face, it�s really cute too. Alfons wants to lick it, so he does, and it earns
him a strange sound: a mix of a moan and a groan. He likes that sound, so he
licks again to see if he can coax Armstrong to do it again.

He does.

Dark blue eyes, a hue darker than his own,
stare up at him as hands reach to steady his waist. Alfons sees the longing
there, the sliver of hunger that just needs a spark to be set off, and
remembers Al�s words. Aggressive. Right, he�s supposed to be aggressive
now, isn�t he? When he kisses the older, larger man, it�s far sloppier than
their usual kisses; those are sweet and generally gentle, but there�s all wanting
and nothing gentle in the way Alfons is trying to crawl under Armstrong�s skin.

�Alfons��

He finds he likes his name being used as a
prayer and a warning, and latches viciously to the tender skin just between
Armstrong�s collarbones, just above the massive pectorals. The man is huge,
Alfons realizes, almost for the first time. It�s something he�s know always,
but until now, when he�s got his legs straddling the wide chest and his hands
clenching on the broad shoulders, he hasn�t really understood the sheer size
difference between them.

Best part is when Armstrong lowers his
hands from his waist to his thighs, holding him tightly enough to bruise, doing
that queer sound that rumbles all the way from his chest to his throat to the
mouth that�s busy trying to steal air directly from Alfons� lungs.

At some point, between burying his face
against the Major�s chest � his skin is soft, soft and satin like,
despite being firm � and recalling his scattered wits, Alfons finds himself
sitting on a muscled, hard lower belly that also happens to be uncovered,
with something definitely hard rubbing steadily against his equally nude
ass. But he�s too busy clawing at the chest below him to notice, because
there�s a very large hand wrapped around his own erection, and dear god,
he feels almost like he did when he had an attack; that air is not enough and
his lungs are burning and he is going to die.

But God, won�t he die like the happiest
man ever?

Armstrong studies him attentively,
maneuvering around him with care and weary of any sign of discomfort. Alfons
knows he doesn�t look precisely like kind, gentle Alfons, and he�s probably
sporting a very wanton expression, but then Armstrong twists his wrist just so,
that the young blond is forced to arch and then ground back against the warmth
on his lower back. His fingers twist almost cruelly over the tiny nipples in
his grasp, but he�s beyond coherent thought now and all he can use to express
the need inside him is his body and his mouth and his hands and his eyes.

Alfons doesn�t know it � yet � but
he could make Armstrong come with that look alone.

�Mehr...� There�s that strange language
again, the one Armstrong hasn�t gotten around asking about and which he doesn�t
understand, but he�s coming to love it now. It makes Alfons� melodious voice
rough � or maybe it�s the fact his free hand finally managed to unscrew the cap
of the hand lotion bottle in his jacket�s pocket and it�s busy rubbing the clef
of his ass gently. He doesn�t understand the words, but the meaning is clear
enough in his eyes. �Gott, h�lt bitte nicht auf.�

Alfons feels a strike of lightening course
through his trembling body when that hand finds his anus and starts massaging
it thoroughly.

�Schei�e.�

Climax steals his breath when a finger
slides inside and his nails sink painfully into the skin below him as he cries
out. Armstrong thinks it�s a beautiful sight. The most beautiful sight in the
world. At least he thinks so until a small, tentative hand brushes over his
erection and the world begins to blur at the edges. Alfons is studying him with
the same scrutinizing look he gives his tools when he works and Armstrong�s
still got a finger inside him, and it�s all so very perfect when the
world shatters in a thousand little shards of color, sound, taste and Alfons.

Alfons is not going home tonight; he�s not
sleeping on his comfortable bed, amidst well-worn sheets. Alfons is curling
over a shivering Armstrong, blissfully ignoring the sweat and the cold and the semen
all over them, because he�s tired and the sparkles around his head are slowly
lulling him to sleep. It doesn�t matter though, he�s made his point.

Aggressive. Yeah.

~�~�~

When he gets home the next morning, Ed�s
waiting for him in the living room, wide eyed and barely awake. Alfons gets a
pang of guilt in the gut when he realizes Ed has spent the whole night waiting
up for him, but at the same time, while there�s a small spark of warmth at the
gesture, it�s eerily lacking the rush of excitement at such a blatant show of
concern for his person. Maybe it�s just the fact that he�s too busy aching
deliciously all over to notice.

�Where have you been?� Ed is all
worried eyes and dark circles around them, and it�s almost physical pain for
him to lie.

�I�m sorry, I should have called,� Alfons
wraps his arms around Ed in an awkward hug, sighing warily, �I was just so
excited� and then it got late.�

Alfons smells of a bath and, oddly enough,
sparkles, but Ed�s just glad he�s fine and back home already. Alfons is
laughing to himself when he gently guides Ed onto the couch, since he�s snoring
already. He ruffles the hair gently, then slides back to his room to change his
clothes.

He takes an extra set of clothes with him
to work today, though, just in case.

~�~�~

The party is grand. That�s really
the only word that applies, because it�s an Armstrong party, after all.
There�s food and drinks and tables and music and people left and right. Alfons
has a blush permanently set on his features as he stands as close as possible
to the Major and tries to ignore Katherine�s playful barbs. She�s really taking
his relationship with her brother far better than he expected. Maybe a bit too
well. But the warm welcome the announcement was received with has inspired
Alfons and he will tell Ed about this at some point, preferably today,
before he loses his nerve.

He just hopes he can eventually convince
Mrs. Armstrong that no, really, he doesn�t need fatting up.

Oliver Armstrong didn�t come, for which
Alfons is slightly disappointed; he�s honestly curious to meet her now,
particularly after Colonel Mustang had a slight panic attack when her name was
mentioned. Armstrong says it�s because Oliver and the Colonel have a� conflict
in their political views, but Lt. Hawkeye merely smiles a very tiny, smug smile
that has Alfons wondering. Ed is too busy decimating the copious amount of free
food on the table and dodging Winry�s mildly irritated complaints about it to
notice how close Al is sitting to Havoc, which is good, because the night won�t
end in bloodshed that way.

Alfons makes extra emphasis on the
gratitude he feels for Armstrong during the little speech he�s forced to make
once the car is shown and Mr. Armstrong bursts out in tears. It�s blatant
enough for most � Mustang takes a moment from his failed flirting with Katherine
to blink and nudge Armstrong knowingly � but Ed merely claps accordingly.
Winry, who, like everyone else but Ed, knows of the unrequited emotions that
used to torment Alfons, rolls her eyes and hits Ed�s head as hard as she can.
She repeats the gesture when Ed asks why.

It�s not until late at night, when he�s
already snuggled on his bed and wondering why Alfons decided to stay back at
Armstrong�s that it hits him. Al falls off his bed, laughing silly when he
hears the bewildered bellow.

�Alfons is gay?�
- 1
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