Travelers

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You do realize that these quotes at the beginning are totally meaningless, right? --Just a thought I had, in case people thought there was symbolism.

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“Are you fellows taking a break?”

The three boys turned about to see Isaac Crane come out of the woods.

“I’ve been out on a walk—do you desert the moment I leave?”

“Of course not,” Al said. “I’ve just discovered something. We were just—“

“Looking at the sky,” Russel finished, his smile not reaching his eyes at all. “It’s a really nice day out and Fletcher and I were frustrated because I messed up the mix for the Water. We have to start from scratch now.”

Crane gave Russel a warm smile. “Well, these things do happen. It’s to be expected in something as delicate as the Water. I do, however, have faith in the both of you.”

“I wouldn’t,” Ranen grumbled as she suddenly passed by, giving them a look. “Clumsy as sin, the both of them. They’ll end up blowing the house right off the foundations.”

“There was no call for that,” Crane snapped, giving her a dark glare. “They are keeping their part of the bargain.”

She yawned and smiled.

“In any case, you said you were going to watch out for them, to make sure they did not blow the house right off the foundations, as you so eloquently put it.”

Russel gave her a puzzled look. “Why? You don’t know anything about the Red Water.”

Crane snapped his gaze to Russel. “She doesn’t?!”

Russel glanced at Al and Fletcher. “Uh…no.”

“She informed me that she had a bit of knowledge on the matter and would be able to assist you.”

Russel shook his head. “My father, brother, me, and Doctor Marco were the only ones who still have documentation on the Red Water—and really, only my brother and I, as Marco and our father are dead.”

Ranen’s mouth tightened.

Crane’s sent his dark eyes at her. “You lied to me.”

She shrugged, yawning again.

“You will stay away from them from now on. Understand?”

She nodded, face a completely blank mask.

Crane glowered and turned back to the boys. “If you three would come with me?”

They followed Crane into the basement. He looked around the lab approvingly. “Don’t let her come down here anymore. I’m getting the feeling she wants the Stone for herself. She lied to you as well, didn’t she?”

Al and Russel nodded.

“Make sure you stay away from her. She isn’t to be trusted.”

Russel’s eyebrow twitched. Neither are you.

“Why don’t you just send her away?” Fletcher asked.

Crane scowled. “She knows what we’re doing. I don’t want her to talk. I’ll take care of her after the Stone is complete and the bargain is sealed.”

“What if she runs away?”

Crane smirked. “I’ll find her. This forest is alive with spirits and lost souls. And no one knows this forest like I do.”

Al shivered.



That night, Russel Trigham had a dream that he would never reveal or tell anyone about no matter how long he lived. And, as he lived many years after this, he truly never uttered a word of it, especially to Al.

He’d had a few similar dreams. He was a young man now, after all. At seventeen, he was privilege to such things. Of course, privilege made it sound as though he thought he had a right to these dreams, which he certainly didn’t…but he couldn’t help it.

He also couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about them later, especially when Al talked about Ed.

He dreamed he was in a bed. Her bed. In her room on the second story with that little window seat. Her stout table in the corner, littered with tools, even though the workroom was just down the hall. It had never ceased to make him smile.

She was sleeping next to him. For now. He smiled at her; a lazy, comfortable smile.

She looked enchanting. She was dressed in a neat, classy button-up blue shirt and a pair of oil-stained, denim shorts. Her hair was pinned up.

He was lying on his side in jeans and t-shirt. It took him a moment to raise his hand and touch her face. It was wrong, yes, (Al would kill him) but he swept blond hair off her cheeks. She blinked sleepily, coming awake with a little yawn. Her wide blue eyes took him in, blinking at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Russel only smiled at her, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. “Just thought I’d say hello.”

She sat up, her hair coming unpinned and falling around her throat. She looked embarrassed. “I…I didn’t hear you knock. I’m sorry.”

Russel shook his head. “It’s nothing. I wanted to see you.” He slipped his hand to the front of her shirt.

And because this was a dream, Russel had control here. Of course, this is how they usually went—Winry the sweet, willing virgin and he, experienced and confident.

Which was, naturally, very much the opposite of how things would probably be. He had a small amount of experience that did go beyond casual touches and innocent kisses but not a whole lot farther. He’d been mocked for it, but he had more self-respect and was secure enough with himself that he certainly didn’t need someone else’s approval or acceptance when it came to his actions. It took more self-control not to do those sorts of things, in his opinion.


But this was a dream, after all, and so his hand lifted to her shirt, skimming his fingers along the buttons. She drew away a little, smiling shyly. And he started on her buttons, slowly, one at a time. He stared into her eyes while he did it, smiling softly, reassuring.

When her shirt was open, he slipped his hands inside, gliding over her flesh and pulling the shirt down her arms and away. She shivered.

“Russel…”

“Shhh….you’re fine.”

He slipped his fingers under the straps of her bra and gently pulled them away. He scooted closer to her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her up against his chest, as he unhooked the garment from her. Keeping one hand on her back, he slid his other hand to her breast and pulled the bra away, tossing it to the floor. She seemed to melt into him, one hand between them on her breast.

He pressed into her breast with his fingers. She brought her face up to look at him and finally—he kissed her.

She sighed. He traced her lips with his tongue and followed a path to her ear. He kissed his way down her throat and sucked at a pulsing vein. She moaned, arching into him. He felt her hands skitter up his back and into his hair. He pulled his lips away and kissed the red mark. Leaning back, he pulled her on top of him.

She looked uncertain and he smiled, slipping his right hand to her cheek. “You’re all right, Winry.”

She looked, slightly anxious, to the side and then down at him. Slowly, he drew her down to kiss him and, while she was preoccupied with his mouth, he slid his hands over her hips and down her legs. She shivered again as he slipped his hands up her thighs.

She gasped when he reached the hem of her shorts and he slipped his fingers up into the denim.

“Hey….,” she murmured, breathless.

“You’re fine, Winry. Don’t worry about it.” He pressed into her lips more insistently, slipping his tongue out to glide over hers, asking for permission, which she shyly granted. He used his left hand to hold onto what would be her right leg and he continued following the trail up her left leg, finally tugging aside her underwear and slipping his fingers inside.

She moaned when his first and middle fingers softly stroke the hot, damp, sensitive flesh. He felt her muscles ripple. He loved how he affected her. Oh…don’t stop... Her breathing was stilted and rough. Her face was starting to flush a bit. She moaned again when he paused at the little bundle of nerves near the front of her slit and rubbed against it quickly and then he slowed again, wandering over the rest of her, reveling in her breathy whimpers.

Her hips jerked against his hand and she shut her eyes, gasping against the sensations. Russel could feel the fever encroaching on his brain. His clothes were gone, he realized suddenly—although he couldn’t remember removing them.

And sometimes, Winry would change and become a temptress.

She was taking his hand out of her shorts and kissing down his chest, scratching his flesh.

“Russel…,” she murmured.

He laid back on the pillows, feeling her going lower and lower…”W-what…?”

“Russel…” she whispered again.

He choked, feeling her tongue creep out and flick over him, as if taking a test taste. He groaned, feeling her mouth enclose in a glory of wet heat. His vision blurred and everything turned white-hot.

He yanked her up, shoved his knee between her legs and flipped her over. She was giving him a wicked smile, watching his eyes smolder and darken as he took her in. Her clothes were all gone and he shoved his hands over her.

She stretched and arched, sighing as he handled her. His fingers pushed against her breasts as he laid down over her, kissing her mouth, her jaw, sucking on her throat again and listening to her moans and cries and gasps and whimpers.

Her fingers flitted down to press against the small of his back, forcing him forward and, perhaps intentionally, thrusting into her. He couldn’t handle that and before he knew it, his control had snapped.

She gasped when she came, whispering to him. Oh…oh….

He groaned, lowering his head to her damp shoulder.


That was usually where the dreams would end (that, or right before, which was endlessly frustrating) but not this time.

This time he woke in bed, Winry lying on his chest and when he opened his eyes he jumped.

Edward Elric was staring at him from the foot of the bed. His arms were folded, his mouth a tight line, his shoulders hunched.

Russel felt a burst of panic.

Edward unfolded his arms.

I’m going to die.

“What do you think you’re doing, Trigham?”

Russel started, opening his eyes. He glanced around the room and sat up on the carpeted floor. Fletcher was still sleeping soundly on his bed. Al was murmuring in his sleep.

Russel scowled. He’s got me all paranoid now. Dammit. This is ridiculous.

It didn’t stop him from running his hands through his hair, picking at his t-shirt and getting up for a glass of water. He showered in the tiny downstairs bathroom, changed his clothes and went to sit in the lab. He stared at the various glass tubes and casks and burners and tried to shove away the unease he felt. It was just a dream, after all. It meant nothing.

His feelings on Winry were probably one-sided. She seemed to be oblivious to them. Of course, that may have been because she lived in a tiny village with hardly any males her own age. She’d been in love with Ed—he knew that. But Ed had never made any move or effort to show he felt similarly. So…maybe she just didn’t know how to act.

Russel licked his lips and laid his forehead down on the tabletop. He was beginning to wish he’d never come to Rizenbool. He should have just ignored Ranen when he’d seen her on the train. He should have just looked out the window and pretended he hadn’t seen her.

He glared at the countertop. He felt helpless, enraged. He hated feeling helpless. It was one of the worst feelings in the whole damn universe.

This whole lark was idiotic. Creating a damn Philosopher’s Stone so Al can go find Ed?! What the hell? If Philosopher’s Stones are just a dime a dozen—well, hell, he should just make one and go revive his damn mother and father. He could transmute gold and take care of himself and Fletcher for the rest of their lives. Fuck Crane.

Deep down, he knew what would happen if they found Ed. Or at least, what he assumed would happen, is that Winry would be with him. Which, yes, Ed deserved that. He’d been through way more shit than Russel could ever dream about. Did it keep Russel from feeling a twinge of jealousy and resentment?

Oh, hell no.

But Russel took a deep breath. It couldn’t be helped. And besides, he was above this sort of behavior. He was more mature than to be spiteful and hateful about it. It’s not like Winry would turn to him if he knowingly kept Ed from her. That was moronic and he couldn’t do it to Al. And how could he ever look his brother in the face?

Russel smiled bitterly at the Water in front of him.

When Al had touched him, the Elric had said he could hear his thoughts. But Russel couldn’t hear anything from Al—well, nothing he could make out. Just murmurings and yells but he saw images. He saw blood, flowers, Winry, a dog, a forest, the Colonel. He saw weapons and fighting and the red coat that symbolized everything Al seemed to strive for. He saw Edward. And then the pain and it had been over.

He wondered if Al had seen anything and just didn’t tell him.

Russel rubbed his eyes. What would it matter, even he had? The older Trigham brother got up and started flipping lights on. The sun was just beginning to rise. He opened the curtains of the little windows near the ceiling and turned one of the burners on.

Maybe he should speed this up. Get Ed back and be done with it. He’d be glad to see Ed and realistically, he had no real chance with Winry.

Right?

But while Russel was able to think such a thing logically—he still could not really accept it easily.



It was the December in Munich of Ed’s first year in Europe when Alfons had thrown the door open. He rushed into the flat and bolted to his room. Ed sat up on the kitchen floor, blinking away the spots from his eyes as he refocused on Alfons.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

Alfons paused in the hallway, and then glanced down at a plate of untouched food, an island in a sea of books, papers, pens, and charts scattered on the floor. He smiled. “You could use your desk for that, you know.”

Ed smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I just like changing scenery every once in a while.”

“Well, leave all of this—I’m going to change your scenery!”

Ed looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Alfons grinned. “C’mon! Just get your coat!” He grabbed Ed by the arm and yanked him up.

“What--?”

“C’mon on! Hurry up!”

Ed threw his hands in the air and went back to his room. He exchanged his everyday gloves for a warmer set and pulled his coat from the closet. When he went back into the hallway, Alfons was tapping his foot by the door.

“C’mon Ed! I want to show this to you!”

“Show me what?”

But Alfons hustled him out the door.

Ed had seen some of the strange decorations that the people in Munich had put out for this odd holiday called Christmas. He had ignored them mostly. It had nothing to do with him and if he went outside, he was usually going somewhere, no time to stop and stare and wonder about that hard, hollow baby and fake animals.

It was completely dark when Alfons forced him outside into the cold night. Ed stumbled in the dark.

“What’s going on? Why do they have the lights off?”

“Just come on. They’re going to light the lights.”

“Light the lights? Turn them back on! Who cares?”

Alfons laughed. “Just give it a chance. You don’t have anything like this where you come from.”

Ed, his eyes adjusted, stared at the back of Alfons’ blond head as the boy pulled him along.

Finally, Alfons stopped, pulling Ed up next to him. There were several people around them. A whole crowd, it seemed. They were muttering and laughing and someone was singing songs. “Now wait for it!”

Ed glanced at him impatiently. “Wait for what?”

Alfons clapped his shoulder. “And…..now!” He snapped his fingers.

And suddenly, lights were coming on all around them. Tiny golden lights. Bigger colorful lights. The plastic displays that Ed had seen but seldom looked at lit up. A massive tree, no, a gargantuan tree, was in the middle of it all, shining with beautiful white lights and a bright, cheery star on the top.

Many of the people in the crowd started to sing and clap.

“C’mon, Ed. You have to try to roasted almonds!”

But Ed was staring at the lights. Alfons had been correct. Never before had he seen such a spectacular display. The lights. So many lights and…he couldn’t think of anything to describe it or compare it to. His mind jumped about, dismissing alchemy completely, and settling, perhaps, on stars. It was as if someone had gathered all the stars in the sky and put them all in this square. On the buildings and the light posts and that incredible tree.

He heard Alfons laugh next to him. “What did I tell you, Edward! Now c’mon! You have to try some almonds and we’ll buy some marzipan too! Have you tried that yet?”

“What is mazipan?”

Alfons seemed overcome with glee. “It’s wonderful! Wait until you have some!” The young man grabbed Edward’s arm again and pulled him away.

“Is this…some sort of festival?”

Alfons stopped and Ed almost bumped into him. “Kind of,” he told him, face red from the cold. “It’s December. Christmas is on the twenty-fifth—that’s what this is for, really. But every year they have this. They light all the Christmas lights in Munich at the same time. At first, it was just a little show, now it’s become something of a party. There are venders and music and all the pubs are open. It’s just a fun time for everyone. That’s why I wanted to show you. Even if you know nothing about it…it’s still beautiful.”

“Yeah…,” Ed muttered, looking around. “Hey, Alfons?”

“What?”

“What is Christmas?”

Alfons paused and seemed to think for a moment. Then he smiled. “It’d take too long to explain. But around this time of year, you’re supposed to make an extra effort to be nice to each other. Most people get together with their families but, hey,” and here he shrugged. “people like you and I are kind of left out (my uncle John is in France at the moment). So I figured we’ll just have a good time. It gives people an excuse to decorate and just have fun together.”

“And it’s only in December they do this?”

“More or less.”

Ed nodded. He’d have to look into this if he ever got home. He thought of Winry for a moment and how much she’d love this. It made him smile.

You know what, I’m just going to have fun tonight.

He looked at Alfons and grinned. “I like the sound of it. So what is it you want me to try?”

Alfons was excited as a boy as he grabbed onto Ed’s arm and pulled him through the crowd. “Come on! Germany is famous for its marzipan and roasted nuts! I saved up for a while so I could buy some for us.”

Ed stumbled after him. “You didn’t need to do that!”

Alfons stopped again and looked right into Ed’s face. “Yes, I did. Because you need a break. You need something to smile about. And, frankly, I’m tired of you sitting in weird places in the apartment doing work. You need to get out for a while and experience this place.”

Ed gave him an odd look.

Alfons laughed. “Whether or not I believe your stories aren’t even the point right now. You aren’t familiar with this place. So, I think you should be. So—I’m going to show you everything this time of year has to offer! Now c’mon! I want to get some damn mazipan!”

So Alfons drug him all over the square, showing off the mazipan first.

“Well…which one is marzipan?”

Alfons grinned. “They’re all marzipan.”

“But this looks like a strawberry. And this one looks like a balloon.”

“Marzipan can be molded into almost any shape and colored to an almost exact replica. It’s very ingenious, whoever came up with it. Come on, pick one.”

So Ed, grinning, picked out a piece shaped like a book and Alfons bought a small bag of them. When they got outside the hot, crowded little shop that had been set up, Alfons opened the bag and gave him a piece.

Ed grinned at it. “I feel weird, eating a book.”

Alfons chuckled at him.

Ed brought the book to his mouth and snaked his tongue out then he stuck the whole thing in and bit down. He nearly choked. “Ah! That tastes terrible!”

Alfons stared at him for half a second and than burst into laughter. Ed spat the stuff onto the ground. Alfons continued to laugh at him.

“You must be one of the only people I know who doesn’t like marzipan!”

Ed laughed at Alfons, who had his forehead in his hand and was trying to keep from falling over. He reached out to steady his friend. “Well, you eat them then!”

Alfons took a deep breath and lifted his nose into the air. “Fine then. I will.” And with that, Alfons drew out another little book and ate it.

Something about it made Ed chuckle again but then Alfons was dragging him to another vender. He bought Ed toasted almonds—which Ed loved and begged Alfons to buy more (which he eventually did)—and then took him to a stand and bought some dark beer for each of them.

Alfons, surprisingly, could slug it down like many of the older men. Ed had stared at him in amazement while he did it and glanced down at him own beer uncertainly.

Well, why not.

On his first attempt to knock it back, he choked and sputtered beer on himself, to which Alfons laughed at him again and Ed declared war on the spot, only making Alfons laugh harder.

“Dammit, Alfons!” And Ed paused, having a hard time not laughing himself. “I’m gonna do it!”

“All right! All right! But before we do, let me show you a few more things. Just to make we get to see them!”

So Alfons had taken him to a stand where a glass-blower was sitting, showing off her work and making pieces on the spot for customers and children. This fascinated Ed. Alchemy didn’t compare to the time and effort and care that went into each piece the glass-blower made. At another stand, someone was selling jewelry and clothes. At another, huge, soft pretzels that made Ed’s mouth water. In front of the great tree, musicians were playing and all the way across the square, people were singing.

“Those are Christmas carols,” Alfons informed him. “They’re…nice songs for the season. People love them. A lot of them are very happy and some of them are sad.”

Ed nodded, filing away this information. “Hey! What’s that?”

Alfons showed him a stand with homemade, wooden toys. Little silver bells with peals like laughter sang in the cold breeze.

After they visited a few more stands, the two of them made their way to a familiar pub throwing themselves down at a small table.

“You’re not going to win this Edward. I’ve lived in Germany almost my whole life.”

“That means nothing!” Ed retorted, waving the barkeep down. He started by bringing them two great steins of a light-colored beer.

Ed gave it an anxious look and glanced at Alfons. The young man raised his and winked and then knocked it back. Ed stared.

Not to be outdone, Ed readied himself for the taste and brought the mug to his mouth. He drank it more slowly and Alfons was waiting for him when he finished. “Well, come now, Edward.” He laughed. “You were going to beat me, weren’t you?”

Ed grinned. “Just wait! Are we just going to drink beer?” He slammed his fist down on the table. “Let’s get something stronger!”

“Good lad!” someone shouted. “Buy them a bottle o’ whiskey! Get the good stuff!”

“You suppose Barkeep’s got any moonshine—like they make in America?”

“Ain’t nobody got that ‘cept for the Americans—lucky devils!”

The barkeep, grinning, brought out a bottle of amber liquid and put a tiny glass in front of each of them. He stepped back. Alfons picked up the bottle. “My uncle John would kill me if he could see this. Out tonight drinking whiskey at the fesitval. He’d murder me.”

“Awww, not gonna get scared now, are you Alfons?”

Alfons gave him a cool look, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not scared, Edward. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Pour the damn drink!”

This time, Ed didn’t even wait for Alfons to finish pouring. He slammed it back and found that it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it tasted better than that damn beer. It just burned more but that was okay. As soon as he brought his little glass down, someone filled it for him. He knocked this one back too and wiped his brow off as Alfons had his little glass filled and drank it down. Ed held up a finger and shrugged his coat off, but left his gloves. Alfons shrugged his coat off and rolled up his sleeves.

“C’mon lad, take those gloves off!” someone called.

Ed hesitated for a few seconds and then remembered the covering on his arm. Aw, what the hell. So he took the gloves off and rolled his sleeves up also. If anyone said anything about the different tones of his skin, he couldn’t remember.

Ed lost track of how many times he slammed that little glass back. The only marking point was went the drink changed to something with a tangy bite in it.

“Look at these two lads! They’re going at it! Break out the rum!”

“Oi! We should do a drinking song!”

So someone stopped the both of them. Ed was beginning to feel a little woozy and very, very warm and Alfons’ cheeks were flushed bright red.

“Here lads, we’re going to sing.”

So Ed and Alfons blinked a lot and grinned and laughed at each other for no reason at all and the barkeep came over with a bottle of liquid.

“You guys are lucky these men are buyin’ for you. This is expensive stuff.” The man opened the bottle and poured each of them another drink.

Ed could only vaguely remember the song later—something about a man who went to war and his girl left him for someone else or something. All he knew was that at the end of each verse, he had to take another drink. And it didn’t matter if they sang the right words or not, so long as they roared like the rest of the men and slammed their glasses down on the table at the appropriate times, no one cared.

By the end of the song, Ed could hardly see. He was laughing too hard. He put his forehead on his palms. Everything just seemed utterly hilarious. Across the table, Alfons was leaning on one elbow, a few of the buttons on his shirt undone, holding his glass and trying to stop laughing so he could take the drink.

When he and Ed looked at each other, they started sniggering again. Ed took some deep breaths. “Okay. Okay. I’m okay.” He focused on the drink in front of him, trying to conquer the urge to collapse into a fit of unmanly giggles.

He felt his stomach heave.

That brought him to his senses. Then it quieted. “Okay,” he muttered. “I’m okay.” He picked the drink up and shot it back, closing his eyes at the ceiling as he felt it burn its way down his throat.

He looked at Alfons and raised his eyebrows. His friend grinned, picked up the drink, cool as you please, choked on laughter and then drank it.

They both sighed and leaned on the table, attempting to focus on the other.

Alfons stuck his tongue out.

And that’s all it took for Ed to start laughing it again, laying his forehead on one arm and slapping the table with the other.

“Okay! Okay! Come on now, lads. It’s about time you two went home.” The barkeep was tapping Ed on the shoulder. He looked up, blinking in the hot, fuzzy lights. “Come on, will you two be okay going home?”

Alfons staggered to his feet. “We’ll…uh….we’ll….what was the question?”

Ed snorted and tried to stand but had to clutch the table as the world spun.

The barkeep rolled his eyes. “Where do you live?”

“Oh. Ok.” Alfons stared hard at the man, no doubt trying to get his brain to catch up and focus. “We live not far from here. What time is it?”

“Quarter after three!” someone sang out and he and his mates burst into another song.

Alfons had to seriously think about that for a moment. “Okay. We’ll be fine. Fine. Jus’ a short ways away. Thanks f’the drinks.”

So they both managed to get their coats on and stumbled out the door.

The cold air was a shock to them and they breathed it in, grateful for it versus the heat of the bar. They held onto each other as they walked past the square filled with either drunks, like themselves, or couples.

Ed kind of wanted to stop and look at the lights some more (because he couldn’t remember them blurring in such a pretty way as they were now) but then his stomach heaved and he tripped and threw up in the gutter.

Alfons sniggered but went down on his knees beside him. He clapped Ed on the back. “You okay?”

Ed nodded, mouth open wide as saliva dripped from his tongue. He swallowed hard and breathed in the cold air again. “Drink some water when we get back.”

Alfons nodded, grinning. He helped Ed stand and somehow, they managed to find Gracia’s shop. They started to snigger again when Alfons took out the key and attempted to use it. He finally just tossed it at the door and stared at it when it landed on the ground, looking totally bewildered. Ed knelt down and nearly toppled over. He picked up the key and stood up, Alfons' hand on his shoulder steadying him. He looked very hard at the door and stabbed the key at the knob. On the third try, he got it in and somehow managed to turn it.

They stumbled into the flat, laughing as Ed yanked the key out and slammed the door, jumping backwards at the bang it made. He had to clutch onto Alfons so he wouldn’t fall over. They stood in the front room for a moment and just stared at each other, holding each other up by their shoulders.

“Are we okay?” Edward asked.

“Yes,” answered Alfons, who promptly dissolved into snickering again.

“You’re going to make me start laughing again! Stoppit!” Ed told him, swaying into the kitchen and tripping over his own plate of cold food. He cursed and kicked it.

“Oh Christ!” Alfons laughed. “Are you okay?”

It took a lot of concentration for Ed to get a cup down from the cabinet, fill it with water and drink it. When he put it down he heard Alfons give a shout. Blinking hard, Ed held onto the walls as he made his way to bathroom, where Alfons was throwing up. Sickened by that sound, he turned away and went back to the kitchen, got some more water and managed to get back to the bathroom. Alfons sat back against the wall and drank from the glass that Ed gave him.

“Ah, my mouth thanks you.”

“You're welcome, Alfons’ mouth.”

Alfons set the glass on the floor of the bathroom. “We can’t f’rget that’s there. Else we’ll trip on it in the mornin’.”

Ed nodded as if this was perfectly logical and he helped Alfons stand up. Supporting each other, they managed to get into Alfons’ room and collapse on his bed.

Breathing hard, they looked at each other.

“You know what I hate about this?” Alfons asked, staring at the ceiling.

“What?”

“My coat is still on. So are my shoes. I can’t sleep with my shoes on.”

Ed started to laugh. He threw himself into a sitting position. “Okay. Focus.” He unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it off. Then he reached over and pulled Alfons up. The German hooked an arm around Ed’s shoulder as he unbuttoned his coat one-handed. That done; he got it off and threw it on the floor.

He stared at his feet, as if contemplating the difficulty of the coming task. Ed snorted, reaching down and untying his shoes and shaking his feet to get them off. He yanked his socks off.

Alfons was still staring at his feet, starting to grin. His shoulders shook with suppressed glee.

Ed cocked an eyebrow at him. “Wha’s so damn funny?”

Alfons tossed his hands in the air. “My shoes. They’re not going to come off.”

Ed started to laugh. “’Course they won’t if you just sit there.” So Ed leaned over and untied Alfons’ shoes, as he seemed completely incapable of wrapping his brain around it. He pulled off his friend’s shoes and socks; leaned up and then flopped back on the bed.

“C’mon, Ed.” Alfons grabbed onto Ed’s shirt and tugged. They both managed to get to the head of Alfons’ bed and just laid there for a moment.

“That was fun, Al.”

“It was.”

“It’s fucking hot in here.”

Alfons snorted with laughter. “I don’t think I can get up to open the window.”

“Then it will only be fucking cold. I guess I should live with what I have. Better fucking cold than fucking cold. Er…fucking…fucking hot than fucking cold.”

“I disagree,” Alfons slurred, bringing a hand up and pointing at the ceiling. “If it’s cold, you can put on more layers. But if it’s hot, there’s only so much you can take off.”

“Bahhh!” Ed unbuttoned his shirt and pushed himself up to get it off. He threw it over the side of the bed. He flopped back down on the pillow. “That was fun, Al.”

“You already said that, Ed.”

“Well…it was. We should do it again sometime.”

“We’ll see how you feel in the morning first.”

“Oh, shut up.”

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