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Branded	By : ibshafer Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Het - Male/Female Views: 13845 -:- 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.

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Title: Kiss and Tell (Branded, Chapter 2)

Part: 2/5

Author: ibshafer

Rating: R – for language, content

Character/Pairing: Mostly convo between Ed and Al, then EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…

Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them
around the page now and then.

Summary: In which Alphonse tries to get his brother to …um, tell…

Warnings: profanity, some kissy-face stuff, some adult concepts, but nothing explicit

Genre: Fullmetal Alchemist; Humor

Spoilers: none; AU

Feedback: yes, please!

Note: The mention of Pride, Rage, etc… in this story refers not to any homunculi, but to various aspects
of the personality of one Edward Elric.

Kiss and Tell

~ibshafer

“Nii-san?”

In the darkness, Alphonse’s whispered call to his brother was met with the kind of silence that can only
be achieved when the callee is holding their breath really, really hard, trying not to move or be heard, and
the caller is holding their breath really, really hard, trying not to move so they can hear…

Forgetting himself, or maybe just giving up, the callee let out a tiny sigh.

Edward knew damn well his brother knew he was awake. In fact, he knew Alphonse had a catalog of
every sound and expression Edward made, what caused them, what they meant, and what he could do
to avoid seeing, hearing, or smelling them in the future if they proved to be of the unpleasant kind, as
nearly half of them were. There was no more point in pretending he was asleep then there was in
pretending he could feel the fingers of his right hand…

As if to double (triple, hundredth) check, he brought them together, clicking them against one and other
with a quick little rhythm. It made a neat sound, but felt like not a thing.

“Nii-san? Are you asleep?”

Edward rolled over towards the wall, burying himself in the soft old quilt Granny had thrown on the end of
his bed last night.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” came his muffled response from under the blanket.

“Nii-san.”

He let out a mid-range heavy sigh, knowing his brother was flipping the pages of his mental Edward
Gesture and Sound Catalog and would have arrived at the entry on “mild, but growing annoyance,” and
that, if he played his cards, and his sounds right, he might just get back to sleep yet.

Unfortunately, Alphonse had a card of his own to play…

Dialing back his tone, his brother let a little of that adorable (and it was very adorable) little boy
exuberance seep into his voice and … and Edward pretty much melted like a popsicle in the sun…

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did, idiot,” Edward said, grinning.

“Nii-san, that’s not funny…”

“Okay, not my best, but still, I’m laughing.” And he was. It felt good.

Sleeping would have felt better, though.

“C’mon, Ed. I’ll be quick! I promise!”

Alphonse was clearly determined to Have This Conversation. (Whatever it was.)

There was still a chance he could get back to sleep, though. Edward knew his brother as well as his
brother knew him. All he had to do was distract him into forgetting what he’d wanted to ask…

Swallowing the giggle threatening to bubble up in his throat, Ed grabbed onto the first inane thing that
popped into his head. “Al, make sure you ask Granny for some oil in the morning...”

Edward could almost hear Al switching mental gears, derailing himself from the track he’d been on, onto
this newer, and Ed hoped, shorter one.

“Wait …um, o-oil?”

“Yeah, oil.” Ed spoke to the wall, feeling confident now he’d be back asleep in no time. He yawned and
stretched, relaxing himself back into the mattress. “I noticed you were looking a little dingy tonight. We’ve
been on the road too long. Don’t want to get any grime on Granny Pinako’s couch.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize that!” Al’s voice sounded breathless in spite of its lungless delivery. “Thank you, Nii-san! I wouldn’t want to get Granny’s furniture dirty!”

A satisfied smile spread across Ed’s face and his pillow called his name lovingly.

“We’ll shine you up in the morning, ‘kay?”

“Okay…” Al’s voice was tiny now.

Edward spared a glance over his shoulder. Alphonse was examining his metal forearm in the moonlight.
Ed had to stifle a giggling fit as his brother peered more closely at a patch of something on the back of
his hand, then grabbed the edge of the sheet to wipe at it.

Good boy….

“’Night, Alphonse.”

“…’night, Nii-san…”

Ed could hear the tiny squeaks of sheet-on-metal action from across the room, then silence.

Several minutes passed and Edward was still, annoyingly, wide-awake.

Maybe it was the pleasurable feeling of self-satisfaction he always got from pulling something fun off that
was quickening his heartbeat and driving the sleepiness away, maybe it was an attack of conscience for
having pulled that something fun off at his brother’s expense.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was a somewhat frightening sound that was currently filling the room, a sound
that was emanating from the Al’s side; the sound of the metal plates of Alphonse’s left knee rattling
against each other, a thing that he did when he was either a) too excited about something to sit still, b)
was growing annoyed at his brother, but was trying to restrain himself so they could avoid another one of
those embarrassing armor/flesh puncturing incidents or c) both…

“Nii-san?” Alphonse squeaked.

On the verge of admitting defeat, but not quite there yet, Edward heaved a heavy sigh, then rolled over,
eyes to his brother…and found himself a little awed by the sight: the moonlight streaming through the
window behind him cast Al’s bulky metal body in a golden glow, softening his sharp lines with
luminescence, nearly making flesh of what was cold, lifeless armor.

Ed could swear he almost saw his brother breathing…

He couldn’t help but shiver.

Frustrated and sleepy or not, Alphonse was a beautiful thing – inside and out.

The issue now, though, was not whether his brother was beautiful. Or whether this Question he was so
excited about asking was important enough to wake Ed out of a sound sleep for. Or if it was important
enough to answer. It wasn’t even about Edward feeling responsible for Alphonse having to live in this
metal shell of a body and not wanting to ever deny him anything, no matter what or when he asked.

No, the real issue was which one of them had the stronger will.

Ed sighed through his nose, something he did a lot: like when he didn’t know the answer to a simple and
reasonable question that he should have; or when the bastard Colonel gave him a hard time about his
penmanship and tried to talk him into carrying around a blasted typewriter on the road – and he was
trying hard not to swear (too much) at a superior officer (failing miserably); or when they were out of
chocolate pudding in the commissary and promising himself a big, fat bowl of it as soon as he arrived at
Central had been the only thing keeping him from throttling the ubiquitous screaming brat behind him
who had been playing with his braid like it was the best toy ever and wasn’t he just so happy to be
connected to it?!

…Or when he’d clearly, soundly, in no uncertain terms… been beaten by the Master.

Nose sigh.

“I’m not gonna get any sleep if I don’t let you ask your question, am I?”

Alphonse’s red eyes regarded him with a desperation that was almost endearing.

“Nii-san… It’s just that… You’re the only one who can answer it.”

At this, Edward felt his big brother chest swell up with pride; it was kind of cool to be looked up to; he, the
older, more mature one, he the seasoned State Alchemist. Cool, but it’d be muuuch cooler at, say 2
o’clock in the afternoon, than it was at 2 am…

“All right, Al, but make it a quick one, okay? I hope you didn’t wake me up from a nice, sound sleep for
another one of your “if you combined silica with grass would you get a lawn you’d never have to mow,”
questions. Let’s save the contemplation of the real heavy issues for daylight, okay? I’m exhausted. It’s
been a rough day…”

Suddenly, Alphonse started to snicker. In fact, he started to guffaw his hollow little head off.

It’s been a rough day…

Now what was so fricking funny about that?

“Alphonse.”

Al didn’t need to breath, so he never actually got out of breath, either from running through desert sands
in 100 degree heat (that he did not feel), or carrying his brother’s suitcase (and his brother) through that
same 100 degree heat, or laughing until he wiped (non-existant) tears from his cold metal face and was
fighting to take in breaths (that he didn’t need to be taking)…

Sometimes, though, either out of habit, or just for affect, he pretended to have lungs anyway…

And from the way he was giggling, if he had needed to breath, he’d have passed out about three minutes
ago.

Scowling now, Edward folded his arms across his chest and huffed in his brother’s general direction, his
good humor evaporated into so much thin air.

“It’s much too late for theatrics, Alphonse. You may not need to sleep, but I do. In fact, I kind of like it – I
like it more than being laughed at by my little brother, especially at 2 in the morning, especially when I
don’t even know why.”

Still “breathless,” Alphonse waved a creaking, leather glove apologetically in his brother’s direction.

“I… I’m sorry, Nii-san. I couldn’t help it…” He broke into another fit of hysterics.

Ed was quickly losing patience. If Al had been looking in his Edward Catalog right then, he would have
seen a perfect example of his brother’s facial expression described on page 172, “pissed off and getting
ready to scream obscenities,” but of course, he was still shaking with mirth and Ed could only sit there
and watch.

“What?!!” he managed to grit out through tightly clenched teeth.

Al was waving both hands now, looking a little like a circus act, like he was trying to keep a row of plates
spinning on pointed sticks or something…

“It’s just that… you said ‘rough.’ That’s pretty funny, you know?” He seemed to he holding his breath just
then, trying to stave off another fit of hysterics.

“Actually, Al, I don’t know. Ya wanna tell me just what’s so fucking funny about the word rough?” He
caught himself tapping his sockless automail foot on the wooden floor and quit it, hopefully in time to
have kept from rousing Pinako, who was quite the little wolverine when she was woken up in the middle
of the night.

Gathering himself on the edge of the bed, Alphonse propped himself up on a big, spiked elbow. (Since
Pinako had put that sheet of steel mesh under the fitted cotton one, they didn’t have to extricate those
spiked elbows (or knees) from the mattress three times a night anymore…)

“You had a rough day…” Alphonse burst out, almost visibly grinning. Before Edward had the chance to
ask him to explain that, Al went on, excitedly. “Tell me, Nii-san. What’s it like?”

Golden eyebrows narrowed in annoyed confusion.

“What’s what like, Alphonse?”

Al swung his heavy metal legs over the side of the bed with glee, somehow still managing to set them
down gently on the floor. (Ed swore Alphonse would probably even sneeze politely, if he ever sneezed.
Which he didn’t. At the moment.)

“You know…” He was leaning forward now and his left knee was rattling again. [See choice “a”]

Nose sigh.

“If I knew, would I be asking you?” Something bounced off the back of his brain pan, on the way to his
Random Comment Processing Center and <bing> just like that, current started to flow into his little
“Oooooh,” light bulb.

‘It’s been a rough day…’

Rough day…

What had he done today?

Riding into Risembool, falling asleep on the train, waking up and seeing … seeing ‘Winry Rockbell’
etched indelibly under a plate in the palm of his hand, jumping from the still moving train, beating a
dusty path to the big faded yellow porch, risking the wrath of Pinako in his screaming, red-hazed search
for the girl, finding her on the back porch hanging up Granny’s inordinately large unmentionables, as
well as a few, tiny, pink, flowered ones…

Ed’s lower lip went slack and he had to smack himself in the thigh to get his brain back on track…

… straight to the moment she’d pinned him against the back of the house, brought her sun-freckled
nose (and the rest of her face) up close, put her full, pink lips on his and … and changed his world
forever…

‘It’s been a rough day…’

Al was giggling again, this time more quietly.

From the feel of his cheeks and the way his head seemed like it was going to pop like a balloon and
chase itself around the room, Ed would say he was blushing a rather intense shade of Mortified right
now…

And Alphonse was way too excited for his own good.

“Yeah, right, like making out with Winry is ‘rough.’ All that soft skin, all those curves… That’s definitely my
idea of rough, Nii-san. Definitely.” Elbows on his knees, Al propped his head up on big, leather hands.
“So, tell me – what was it like?”

Ed’s blush went from ‘mortified’ to ‘squish me now, please.’

He worked his jaw up and down a few times, but he hadn’t found words to push through it yet, so it just
flapped silently.

Alphonse stared at him, his mood starting to shift slightly into scary, patience-losing territory of its own.

“And don’t give me that “I don’t kiss and tell” crap, either. If I have to hear about how great chocolate
pudding tastes, when I can’t have any myself, or what it feels like when you jump in the river for a swim
on a really hot day, but I can’t go in myself because you keep telling me I can’t get wet, if I get to hear
about every girl that’s asked you for directions and checked out your butt as you walked away, if I … if I
have to listen to your description of what your last really good poop felt like, you can bet your tiny, little
“chick-magnate” b-butt I’m gonna hear about this!”

Edward’s brain had shorted out. Not a single thought floated across its bumpy gray surface. His mouth
had dropped open and stayed that way and a tiny bubble of drool was poised to descend from his lower
lip.

After a moment, words started to form, but they made little sense. His sanity was doing the best it could,
but the usually helpful Rage had found itself a nice big rock to hide under and was doing its damndest to
pretend it didn’t exist…

I don’t really talk about my BMs, do I? I’m such an asshole…

Chocolate pudding is good. How can I not talk about it…?

Okay, maybe crowing about how great swimming feels when it’s hot out is a little cruel. I can stop doing
that easy…

…but I can’t help it if my butt is a chick-magnate…

When he’d finally processed all the silly, peripheral information, his brain finally got around to the Big
One.

I made out with … with Winry on the back porch for over an hour and a half today!!

He looked over at his brother who was leaning farther forward. His right knee was rattling now.

Al knows about it!! How does Al know all about it?

Reality socked him right in the stomach.

And if Al knows, that mean Granny knows, too!! If that’s true, why am I still alive?!

His fear began to blubber like an idiot, remembering the last time Granny Pinako had had reason to be
angry with Edward, and it wasn’t a pretty picture.

He’d called her in the middle of the night (why was it always the middle of the night?!) to tell her that his
knee cap had fallen off. Well, ‘fallen off’ wasn’t entirely accurate. It was more like it had been smashed in
and then fallen off. And it had gotten smashed in (and then fallen off) because he’d been running through
an alley in the dark chasing a pick-pocket who’d had the temerity to take his wallet. And the wallet wasn’t
really the reason he was chasing the jerk; after he’d taken Edward’s wallet he’d had the nerve to complain
about what a difficult time he’d had taking it because Edward’s pockets, being on Edward’s midget body,
(grrrrr…) were farther down then he was used to having to reach… and Edward was so distracted, and
half-blind from the rage spots floating in front if his eyes and … and wasn’t watching where he was going
and he’d run into a wall… [Bam!!] Busted kneecap… He’d called Pinako because he’d thought she was
the safer of the two; he’d been afraid to call Winry. For some reason, he’d forgotten that a) Winry was her
grandmother’s granddaughter and b) she’d learned everything thing she knew about pitching a fit from
the old woman…

Crying like a baby, Fear finally exhausted itself and was laying, prostrate, in a corner.

That’s when his hormones, gleeful for the break in the brain chatter and thrilled to finally, finally get some
air time, got together, en masse, and began flashing images of his make-out session with Winry through
his poor, bedraggled brain…

Winry pressed against him, his back to the house, feeling her … her curves; even through all those
layers of clothing he wore (why did he wear so much clothing?) he could feel her …her soft…soft
body…

Winry’s lips against his, her tongue tracing the line of his own; suckling, licking, biting,

…oooh…

The little noises she made in the back of her throat when he stroked her tongue with his, the way her
breath caught when he’d spun her around and pressed himself into her… there…

South of the border, he was starting to go numb. His lower lip was contemplating going slack enough to
start drooling again, when his speech center, which had been on hold during the slide show, decided it
had something to say.

You’re brother’s still sitting there staring at you, you know. He’s waiting for an answer. What are you
going to tell him?

Al was sitting there staring at him, somehow, after all his impatience, calmly waiting.

I don’t know… I don’t--I don’t kiss and tell… Well, I’ve never kissed anyone to not tell before, but … but
I don’t want to talk about Winry’s lips and Winry’s… [drool] with my little brother… Too weird, too
weird… And also, kind of wrong…

Another image, really, more of a physical memory; the feeling of her pressed tightly against him, the pure
pleasure of it, the relief …

Ahhhh, why did I wait so long to do that?

Of it’s own accord (or was sanity involved?), his flesh hand came up to smack him in the forehead.

If it were up to you, you’d still be waiting! She kissed you.

His sanity and the cherub that stood in for his heart were dancing in circles, arms around each other.

Edward closed his eyes against the image of them kissing gleefully and, his vision clearing, he looked
back to his brother.

“I…I…” was all he could manage to say, though.

“Were her lips soft?” All innocence and youthful curiosity, Al was just trying to be helpful, but his question
just revived the short in Ed’s brain and his head suddenly began filling with static.

Or maybe it was just the sound of his brain dribbling happily out his ear.

“Did she make noises when you were kissing her? You know – those little noises in the back of the throat
that—”

Edward had found his voice.

“H-how would you know about the little noises in the back of a girl’s throat when she’s kissing you?!”

He fixed him with a narrow look. How would his little brother, who didn’t even have lips, know something
like that? Besides which, he liked to think of his little brother as his little brother, like, he was still eleven
years old. And not thinking about kissing girls or the noises they make when you’re doing something to
them that they really like.

“Got something you want to share with me, Alphonse?”

Alphonse forced “air” through his non-existent nose, laughing in an embarrassed sort of way. “No, no…
It’s just something I read about in a book the Colonel lent me…”

As if on cue, Rage popped up from under its rock and was skipping happily back to the speech center of
Ed’s brain.

“Colonel Mustang lent you a book about,” he paused here, trying to get his mouth around that one tiny,
little word. “…sex?! Just why the hell would the Bastard Colonel lend you a book about…” Rage was
having a fine old time now. It poked him in the side so that he squeaked out the next word - loudly.
“…SEX!?”

Alphonse had jumped to his feet, backing away from his red-faced brother.

“Relax, Nii-san!!” Al was waving his hands in front of him again. “The Colonel was just worried about you.
The book was for you.”

Relax??!!!

At this, all of Team Edward came on board; Rage, Sanity, Fear, the dorks in the Speech Center, a chorus
of frustrated hormones, even one that hadn’t spoken up yet, Ed’s somewhat overworked Pride.

“THE BASTARD COLONEL GAVE YOU A BOOK ON …. SEX BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED…
ABOUT ME????!!!”

Al was gesturing to get him to calm down, though.

“You know, Nii-san,” Al said, gently, as though trying to change the subject. “You really shouldn’t call him
that. I know for a fact the Colonel’s parents were married….”

Ed grit his teeth in an attempt to keep the decibel level down. If he scared his brother too much, he’d
never get the answer out of him.

“Tell me, Alphonse… Why is the … the Colonel worried about me?”

The guys in the Speech Center were cheering, congratulating themselves for having pulled off such a
mild-sounding question.

So why wasn’t Al reassured? He was edging himself towards the closet and had his hand on the knob…

“Well… um, now remember, Nii-san, I’m just telling you what the Colonel said…”

Ed blinked several times in a forced attempt at calm innocence. “Of course, Al. Now go on…”

“…um, he said…” Al glanced out the window as if wondering how far a drop it was to the ground. “…he
said he thought you needed an … an outlet… That you were…” A big leather hand was turning the
doorknob, slowly pulling the closet door open. “He thought you were wound a little too tightly—“

“Too tightly?!!” Ed started out trying to sound calm, but Rage and Pride were pushing on his vocal cords
and in two seconds, he was screaming again.

“TOO TIGHTLY??!! TOO TIGHTLY FOR WHAT, ALPHONSE??!!”

“…too tightly for someone who’s old enough to be … having sex or at least, …um, h-helping himself on a
regular basis…” The last few words were said from the other side of the closet door.

With the whole of the Team trying to scream at once, Ed was having a difficult time forming words.

“Wha—sex—” His mouth suddenly felt as dry as the desert surrounding Lior. “Help—”

Just then, Rage muscled Sanity and Pride under and the rest of the team folded like jello.

“HOW THE HELL CAN I HELP MYSELF??!! I’M NEVER ALONE!!!”

“I know!! I know,” came Al’s muffled apology from behind the door. “I’m sorry, Nii-san!!” There was a
pause, then Al’s sweetly placating voice. “You know, Nii-san… You’re kind of alone now…”

Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!

Why was everyone so friggin’ interested in his sex life?!

Nose sigh.

Because he didn’t have one?

He’s right, you know, his hormones chimed in. Technically, you are alone…

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

Ed was just wondering what it was going to take to get all the voices, inside and outside his head, to just
shut the fuck up and leave him alone, when the sound of a loud, demonic thumping filled the room.

THUMP – THUMP – THUMP

Spooked, Ed turned to look at the closet, thinking maybe Al was knocking from the inside, for some silly
reason.

THUMP – THUMP

It was definitely not coming from the closet.

And it was not some sort of demon. There were no such things as demons.

No…

No, this was much, much worse.

It was coming from Granny Pinako’s room.

Right below their’s…

From the sound of it, Pinako was pounding on the ceiling with a broom handle, something she hadn’t
done since they’d giggled themselves to sleep as children.

THUMP – THUMP

Must have been a really long broom….

“WOULD YOU NIT-WITS SHUT YOUR YAPS ALREADY??!! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME
IT IS??!!”

It was amazing that a sound that loud could come out of a body that small.

Edward could actually hear Alphonse’s knees rattling from the depths of the closet.

“I-I’M SORRY, GRANNY!!” Cupping a hand to his mouth, Ed called his apologies to the floor. “WE’LL
KEEP IT DOWN!”

“SEE THAT YOU DO!” She punctuated that last order with another, slightly softer THUMP. “YOU DO
NOT WANT ME TO COME UP THERE, YOUNG MAN!”

No, they most certainly did not want that!

Apparently, not reassured that her message had made it home, Granny rapped again, and again the
tone had a softer, fleshy-sounding timber.

And the rapping continued. And…and it wasn’t coming from below anymore.

It was coming from the hallway!

Pinako was making good on her threat! She’d come up to there to … to …

Edward didn’t want to think about what she might have come up there to do. Replace his automail with
standing mixer attachments? Substitute them for the pink chrome ones they were making for that little girl
in Central? Attach his elbow gears to the washing machine and make him do laundry for the entire
village? In his underwear?

Edward shuddered.

Nooooo…

“WE’RE SORRY, GRANNY! REALLY WE ARE!” Edward numbly headed himself to do door where
Pinako was still rapping with great determination, obviously looking forward to extracting her revenge on
them. “WE’LL BE QUIET FROM NOW ON, WE PROMISE!!” Ed was practically sobbing when he
opened the door.

Shaking like a leaf, he lowered his eyes, out of respect, out of fear, and, well, out of necessity; Pinako’s
face would been about level with of the doorknob…

He had only seconds to register, not the eyes of a crazed Granny Pinako, but the smooth thighs and frilly,
pink sleep shorts Winry sometimes wore to bed, before her hand reached in to grab his arm and yank
him into the hallway.

Her cheeks were a bright pink and she looked at him almost shyly.

That only lasted for a second.

Then she backed him into the wall and proceeded to shower his face with kisses.

“Thank you,” she breathed in his ear. “Thank you so much.”

Not that he was complaining, but he was more than a little confused. Or that might have been his
hormones, who were dancing around like mad elves in his head. And elsewhere.

“F-for what?”

She was working on his neck now and he was almost sorry he’d asked her a question; she was going to
have to stop what she was doing to answer it…

Winry pulled away and smiled at him softly.

“For protecting my honor, you idiot.”

Thankfully, she went right back to sucking on his ear lobe.

Sanity had suggested he to move his hands to her back and he was grateful for the direction. The sleep
shirt she was wearing was as thin as tissue and the skin beneath it was hot and smooth.

“You’re welcome,” he managed, but his speech center was overloaded at the moment and it was clear he
wouldn’t be able to talk much longer. “H-How’d I do that?”

“Alphonse tried to get you to tell him about what we … we did today…” He could feel her blushing, her
face against his suddenly got very hot, and the knowledge of it went straight to his heart. (The cherub
was ecstatic.) “You wouldn’t do it. Thank you for that.”

Hands on her face, he drew her far enough away to look in her eyes.

“I always tell him everything. I feel like I kind of owe him that, you know? ‘Cause he can’t experience
anything for himself… But,” he drew a thumb across her pinkened cheek. “…but it didn’t seem right. This
one thing he can’t have.” He traced the edge of her lower lip with a finger, then, hesitating only slightly, he
drew her face to his and kissed her, smiling when he heard the tiny, whimper in the back of her throat.

“That,” he said, softly. “That little sound is mine.”

Her blush deepened.

“Your’s, huh?”

He nodded silently, trying to decide what he wanted to kiss next.

His…

She may have left her mark on his automail, but he had other ideas.

There was mischief in her eyes, and no ire in her voice when she spoke. “Still pissed that I “branded” you,
huh?”

Lips at her throat, he suckled deeply. “Uh-huh.” Gently at first, then with growing heat, he applied teeth to
the spot, an act he knew would mark her, at least for a few days. She shuddered against him. “I’ll be
looking for a more permanent method…”

She was his. Had always been his. He was just glad she’d forced him to see that. Finally. Even if it had
taken a full-out mad to get them to this point.

He found her mouth again and shivered when her tongue slipped past his, exploring, tasting.

“Oh, Edward,” she breathed, pulling them more tightly together.

He thought he’d go mad from the sensations; he could feel all of her, everywhere.

Backing off a few inches, he fought for control.

“I-I have to get back to … to bed. It’s the middle of the night. And…and we’re in the hallway… And…”

She was nodding slowly, biting her lip.

“I know…” She was gazing at him with the greatest longing. “Tomorrow, though,” she breathed,
squeezing the hand she held.

“Tomorrow?”

His brain was hormone addled and, of late, had suffered from a round of mental gymnastics that would
have tired a roomful of geniuses, but, even a thorough search of his mental files would have turned up
zilch: he had no idea what she was talking about.

Eyebrows narrowing, it was her turn for confusion. “Grandma’s trip into the field? Didn’t Al tell you?”

Al was supposed to tell him Granny was going into the field?

“What field trip?”

“She’s going on a 10-day trip to service some clients in the field. Alphonse said he wanted to tell you…
He’s going with her. Sort of a bodyguard arrangement, I think. Grandma told him she didn’t need a
bodyguard, that she can take care of herself.”

“Yes, she certainly can.”

“But Al insisted he go with her… It was weird…”

Not so weird.

Ed felt himself blushing. Winry mistook herself for the inspiration, blushing gently in return, and Ed would
never disabuse her of the notion, but the real reason, the real reason he was blushing, the real reason
Alphonse was going out in the field with Pinako, on a 10 day trip… was to give the two of them time…

Time to be alone…

For once, the chorus in his head was quiet.

Ed took the opportunity to kiss Winry again, sweetly.

“We’d better get back to sleep then,” Winry said. “The house will be in chaos tomorrow morning.” Pulling
away, he was taken aback by a sudden mischievous look in her wide, blue eyes. “Here’s something for
you to think about for now, though…”

With a slight blush, but not a hint of hesitation, she slipped a hand between them, and finding the area
he’d been resolutely ignoring since she’d yanked him out of his bedroom, she held him there. The heat of
her hand, and the heat that had already been growing there, went right to his brain and then bounced
straight back to his groin.

Seeing him wide-eyed and slack-jawed, she giggled, then ran her tongue along the curve of his jaw.

“Tomorrow,” she breathed hotly into his ear, then, releasing him, she moved down the hall. To the next
room.

Her room was next door to their’s.

Her room had always been next door to their’s…

Still too stunned by her actions to allow Sanity to smack him in the head, he had at least regained the
use of his voice before she’d disappeared into her room.

“You…you heard the entire conversation, didn’t you…”

“Uh-huh,” she whispered, sweetly.

He should have been mortified, some small part of him was, but he was too turned on to care right now.

Right now he…

“Okay,” he said, absently, turning back to his door. “I’ll see you in the morning…”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yup.”

With a last glance at those frilly pink sleep shorts before they disappeared behind her door, Edward stiffly
pushed himself inside his room.

His mind was racing. Parts of him were so numb, he was lucky he could walk at all.

Sweating profusely, he grabbed a book from the table and fished a flashlight out of the desk drawer.

He’d show everyone just who needed an outlet…

Swinging the closet door open with way more strength than he needed, he found his brother sitting
calmly in the corner, behind some old suits and a beat up tennis racket.

“You wanna help me, Al? Here,” he dropped the book and the flashlight into his brother’s metal lap.
“Don’t come out until I tell you to.”

He heard Al’s gleeful, “Sure thing, Nii-san!” as he slammed the door closed, quietly, of course, and he
was in bed and under the covers in no time flat.

The Fullmetal Alchemist – tightly wound?!

Ha!

Not tonight, he wasn’t…

Before the heat overtook his brain, he could have sworn he heard bed springs creaking from the other
side of the wall. The wall they shared with Winry’s room…

It could have been the swing creaking on the porch downstairs, it could have been the hot water heater
kicking in in the basement. Heck, it could have been Alphonse crossing his knees in the closet…

Didn’t matter.

Edward let the thought of it, that it was none of those things, those things that were unrelated to him, slip
from his mind and, focused on the possibility that that steady, almost rhythmic, sound was coming from
the other side of his wall, Edward unwound….

fin…
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