Pandora Effect
folder
Fullmetal Alchemist › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,237
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fullmetal Alchemist › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,237
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
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.
Pandora Effect
Disclaimer: Hagaren belongs to Arakawa, Bandai, Squeenix, and a whole boat load of other people who aren't me XD And I'm both broke AND morally bankrupt, so it's really not worth their effort to sue :)
A/N: The Ed in this is based on the Ed we see in HYS's doujinshi, "Glamour In Pink" XD As in - aggressive, horny, and fundamentally very insecure :( Poor guy.
It was mostly the same thing, every morning. Mostly. Alphonse woke late (as usual), but with enough time to still make it through his morning routine (as usual). Combed his hair, washed his face, a dab of cologne behind each ear, and still time to slap jam on a few pieces of toast, but not quite able to make eggs. Which (again, as usual) was irritating. Just one of these days, he would like to be able to wake up early enough to have something real for his breakfast. Ham. Bacon. Hell, gruel, or even reheated leftovers. He really didn’t care what it was, so long as he didn’t have to eat it in the hallway, on the way to the coat closet.
“Running laaaaaate!” He announced ahead of himself, flipping his jacket on entirely the wrong way. Cursed, yanked it off again, reversed it. Damn it all, where was his watch, he didn't know what TIME it was...
A brief whine met him at the door, and Alphonse scowled.
“NO, brother.” He said, even before his pajama-clad sibling pounced and made an ass of himself.
“Aaaaaal…”
It was not every day Edward Elric begged, but this morning he was on the floor. On his knees, and rubbing his cheek against Alphonse’s thigh in a v-e-r-y suggestive manner, actually. He tilted his chin and looked up at his sibling, eyes smoky in that special way, half-closed and begging.
Fingers twisted in the cloth just to the right of where, as usual, Alphonse had no time to let fingers go.
“Brother, I have a job.” Alphonse said, thoroughly unimpressed. Edward ignored him, ran his other hand up the back of Alphonse’s thigh, urged his hips forward. Alphonse swallowed. He’d left his hair down on purpose, he bet. Damn.
“Call in sick.” Edward breathed, nuzzled the tip of his nose along the top of Alphonse’s thigh. Inward.
“…brother—ah—stop that, I can’t!” Alphonse said. “I’m down to two.”
“Which means you’ll still have one left.” Edward said, reasonably, and began molding his mouth around much more interesting territory. His hair swayed with the movement and caught the hall-light, reflected it.
“I said, NO.” Alphonse snapped, pressed hard at his brother’s forehead. It took a supreme amount of effort to step backwards, but he was afraid if he didn’t, he was going to wind up with mouth-prints on his trousers. “I’m late enough as it is.”
His brother eyed his retreating crotch like he was losing his best friend, and Alphonse resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Overreacting (as usual), but then, overreacting had always been his brother’s forte. A slight to his height, to his sex drive, it was all the same breed of silliness.
“You know, SOME of us have bosses who care if we show up in the morning.” He said. “You’re lucky the General slacks off more than you do.”
The name-dropping did not work. Instead of ranting, Edward made another play for his fly, and Alphonse had to resort to a Look.
“…oh, alright, here’s your lunch, then.” Edward grumbled, and produced a small brown sack. It would not have much in it – a bruised apple, a chunk of cheese maybe; Edward was not exactly a master at meal design – but it was, as they said, the thought that counted. Alphonse bent down and kissed him, and stole the frown right off of his face
“Have a nice day.” And out the door, before his brother had time to register that he was going. Edward made an upset noise after him, and he closed the door shut. Hard.
Really, they needed a new routine.
=====================================================================================
The problem, Alphonse mused darkly, as he limped down the long and narrow staircase to the street, was not so much their schedules. It was his brother’s ability to wreck havoc with said schedules, at any time of the day or night, regardless of what saner people might or might not care to be doing. Hell, regardless of whether or not saner people cared to be conscious - more than once he had woken up to find a hand down his pants, and its mate up his shirt, and whether or not he had work at seven the next morning seemed to be entirely unimportant. After so many years in the dark, Edward Elric had discovered he had a libido after all, and it was unfortunately exacting its frustrated vengeance upon one Alphonse Elric.
Well, not, he amended, that he was entirely blameless. His brother had never been this bad before he’d entered the equation. Frustrated, definitely, and prone to explosion at any man/woman/inanimate object that drew his ire, but he had at least been easy to manipulate. Point him in the right direction and let him run himself to exhaustion, that had been the way to deal with him then. But when he’d taken that one extra step – gone so far as to confront his brother’s intensity, take it into his own hands – it was like he’d taken the cap off something grievous and vast. The proverbial tip of the iceberg, only this was neither cold nor sitting around and waiting. THIS iceberg jumped out and shoved its pointy bits right up your ass, if you weren’t careful.
“Pandora’s box.” He muttered to himself, and near the sidewalk, an older woman with a broom looked up at him sharply. Hohshit, downstairs neighbor! he recognized, and gave her what he hoped was an apologetic wave. She waved back in acknowledgement but her expression was not nearly so friendly; Alphonse could only imagine what she was thinking. Crazy person, talking to himself! He clutched his lunch bag tighter and made a sharp left turn, eager to make it to Thatcher Street and lose himself in the traffic.
At least she wasn’t the nice lady two doors down. Alphonse shuddered at the memory. She had used to bring them cookies sometimes, except that one day she had decided to come knocking just when Edward had decided he was tired of reading up on Basal’s Theory of Chimera Inversion, and oh god-
Is everything alright? I thought I heard screaming? Oh god. Screaming, indeed. He had come up with something to tell her, but it hadn’t been helped by Edward appearing suddenly from the bathroom, clad only in a towel and looking mightily annoyed that he was not alone in the foyer. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but he thought the frequency of cookies had decreased after that.
At least it hadn’t been old Mrs. Dunway. Edward had actually told her, their NEXT DOOR neighbor, that they were brothers; Alphonse had just about throttled him. It wasn’t like she had to know, she wasn’t their landlady. And oh god, what if she weren’t as deaf as she claimed to be? What if they kept her up at night? The walls weren’t that thick, and -
And dammit, why did they have to live in an apartment building, anyways?! On his brother’s salary, they could afford a real house. They could afford a couple houses, probably. But no, here he was, stuck in the low-rent part of Central, because that was closest to the base, so that brother could be close to work, never mind that HE was out here fighting to get fifteen blocks to Penn Street, and he probably only had five minutes to do it in. Sometimes, he felt like his life was nothing but an endless scream, and it was welling up inside of him, waiting to get out…
Alphonse pinched the bridge of his nose, willed himself to stay rational. No, he knew the reason they were here – knew that someday, they both wanted to back to Risenburg and settle; that any house before that would not feel like Home. Knew that HE was the one who had thought they should stay closer…his brother’s health had been so scarily inconsistent those first few months after he’d come Back. He still felt a vague shadow of guilt about that, how much the creation of his body had taxed his brother’s own; really, it had been that last prolonged hospital stay that had driven him to touch him, just needing to be close, take his mind off how much everything hurt. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way his brother’s pain-filled eyes had finally, finally uncrossed, and then crossed again for all the right reasons – those milky thighs parted, pressed up -
Pinched himself again. Had to keep focused. Had to walk faster. He took stock and realized that his legs were actually kind of shaky, not moving nearly as well as they should. Right. He could do with a snack.
He opened his lunch sack and rustled around in the bottom, colored to realize that there was more than just his usual fruit and a sandwich. His fingers wrapped around an all too familiar glass bottle, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from hurling it. His brother hadn’t intended him to get out the door from the start.
That sneaky little bastard…and what am I supposed to do with this AT WORK!?
One thing was certain: Pandora’s fucking box had nothing on Edward Elric.
=====================================================================================
A/N: The Ed in this is based on the Ed we see in HYS's doujinshi, "Glamour In Pink" XD As in - aggressive, horny, and fundamentally very insecure :( Poor guy.
It was mostly the same thing, every morning. Mostly. Alphonse woke late (as usual), but with enough time to still make it through his morning routine (as usual). Combed his hair, washed his face, a dab of cologne behind each ear, and still time to slap jam on a few pieces of toast, but not quite able to make eggs. Which (again, as usual) was irritating. Just one of these days, he would like to be able to wake up early enough to have something real for his breakfast. Ham. Bacon. Hell, gruel, or even reheated leftovers. He really didn’t care what it was, so long as he didn’t have to eat it in the hallway, on the way to the coat closet.
“Running laaaaaate!” He announced ahead of himself, flipping his jacket on entirely the wrong way. Cursed, yanked it off again, reversed it. Damn it all, where was his watch, he didn't know what TIME it was...
A brief whine met him at the door, and Alphonse scowled.
“NO, brother.” He said, even before his pajama-clad sibling pounced and made an ass of himself.
“Aaaaaal…”
It was not every day Edward Elric begged, but this morning he was on the floor. On his knees, and rubbing his cheek against Alphonse’s thigh in a v-e-r-y suggestive manner, actually. He tilted his chin and looked up at his sibling, eyes smoky in that special way, half-closed and begging.
Fingers twisted in the cloth just to the right of where, as usual, Alphonse had no time to let fingers go.
“Brother, I have a job.” Alphonse said, thoroughly unimpressed. Edward ignored him, ran his other hand up the back of Alphonse’s thigh, urged his hips forward. Alphonse swallowed. He’d left his hair down on purpose, he bet. Damn.
“Call in sick.” Edward breathed, nuzzled the tip of his nose along the top of Alphonse’s thigh. Inward.
“…brother—ah—stop that, I can’t!” Alphonse said. “I’m down to two.”
“Which means you’ll still have one left.” Edward said, reasonably, and began molding his mouth around much more interesting territory. His hair swayed with the movement and caught the hall-light, reflected it.
“I said, NO.” Alphonse snapped, pressed hard at his brother’s forehead. It took a supreme amount of effort to step backwards, but he was afraid if he didn’t, he was going to wind up with mouth-prints on his trousers. “I’m late enough as it is.”
His brother eyed his retreating crotch like he was losing his best friend, and Alphonse resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Overreacting (as usual), but then, overreacting had always been his brother’s forte. A slight to his height, to his sex drive, it was all the same breed of silliness.
“You know, SOME of us have bosses who care if we show up in the morning.” He said. “You’re lucky the General slacks off more than you do.”
The name-dropping did not work. Instead of ranting, Edward made another play for his fly, and Alphonse had to resort to a Look.
“…oh, alright, here’s your lunch, then.” Edward grumbled, and produced a small brown sack. It would not have much in it – a bruised apple, a chunk of cheese maybe; Edward was not exactly a master at meal design – but it was, as they said, the thought that counted. Alphonse bent down and kissed him, and stole the frown right off of his face
“Have a nice day.” And out the door, before his brother had time to register that he was going. Edward made an upset noise after him, and he closed the door shut. Hard.
Really, they needed a new routine.
=====================================================================================
The problem, Alphonse mused darkly, as he limped down the long and narrow staircase to the street, was not so much their schedules. It was his brother’s ability to wreck havoc with said schedules, at any time of the day or night, regardless of what saner people might or might not care to be doing. Hell, regardless of whether or not saner people cared to be conscious - more than once he had woken up to find a hand down his pants, and its mate up his shirt, and whether or not he had work at seven the next morning seemed to be entirely unimportant. After so many years in the dark, Edward Elric had discovered he had a libido after all, and it was unfortunately exacting its frustrated vengeance upon one Alphonse Elric.
Well, not, he amended, that he was entirely blameless. His brother had never been this bad before he’d entered the equation. Frustrated, definitely, and prone to explosion at any man/woman/inanimate object that drew his ire, but he had at least been easy to manipulate. Point him in the right direction and let him run himself to exhaustion, that had been the way to deal with him then. But when he’d taken that one extra step – gone so far as to confront his brother’s intensity, take it into his own hands – it was like he’d taken the cap off something grievous and vast. The proverbial tip of the iceberg, only this was neither cold nor sitting around and waiting. THIS iceberg jumped out and shoved its pointy bits right up your ass, if you weren’t careful.
“Pandora’s box.” He muttered to himself, and near the sidewalk, an older woman with a broom looked up at him sharply. Hohshit, downstairs neighbor! he recognized, and gave her what he hoped was an apologetic wave. She waved back in acknowledgement but her expression was not nearly so friendly; Alphonse could only imagine what she was thinking. Crazy person, talking to himself! He clutched his lunch bag tighter and made a sharp left turn, eager to make it to Thatcher Street and lose himself in the traffic.
At least she wasn’t the nice lady two doors down. Alphonse shuddered at the memory. She had used to bring them cookies sometimes, except that one day she had decided to come knocking just when Edward had decided he was tired of reading up on Basal’s Theory of Chimera Inversion, and oh god-
Is everything alright? I thought I heard screaming? Oh god. Screaming, indeed. He had come up with something to tell her, but it hadn’t been helped by Edward appearing suddenly from the bathroom, clad only in a towel and looking mightily annoyed that he was not alone in the foyer. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but he thought the frequency of cookies had decreased after that.
At least it hadn’t been old Mrs. Dunway. Edward had actually told her, their NEXT DOOR neighbor, that they were brothers; Alphonse had just about throttled him. It wasn’t like she had to know, she wasn’t their landlady. And oh god, what if she weren’t as deaf as she claimed to be? What if they kept her up at night? The walls weren’t that thick, and -
And dammit, why did they have to live in an apartment building, anyways?! On his brother’s salary, they could afford a real house. They could afford a couple houses, probably. But no, here he was, stuck in the low-rent part of Central, because that was closest to the base, so that brother could be close to work, never mind that HE was out here fighting to get fifteen blocks to Penn Street, and he probably only had five minutes to do it in. Sometimes, he felt like his life was nothing but an endless scream, and it was welling up inside of him, waiting to get out…
Alphonse pinched the bridge of his nose, willed himself to stay rational. No, he knew the reason they were here – knew that someday, they both wanted to back to Risenburg and settle; that any house before that would not feel like Home. Knew that HE was the one who had thought they should stay closer…his brother’s health had been so scarily inconsistent those first few months after he’d come Back. He still felt a vague shadow of guilt about that, how much the creation of his body had taxed his brother’s own; really, it had been that last prolonged hospital stay that had driven him to touch him, just needing to be close, take his mind off how much everything hurt. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way his brother’s pain-filled eyes had finally, finally uncrossed, and then crossed again for all the right reasons – those milky thighs parted, pressed up -
Pinched himself again. Had to keep focused. Had to walk faster. He took stock and realized that his legs were actually kind of shaky, not moving nearly as well as they should. Right. He could do with a snack.
He opened his lunch sack and rustled around in the bottom, colored to realize that there was more than just his usual fruit and a sandwich. His fingers wrapped around an all too familiar glass bottle, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from hurling it. His brother hadn’t intended him to get out the door from the start.
That sneaky little bastard…and what am I supposed to do with this AT WORK!?
One thing was certain: Pandora’s fucking box had nothing on Edward Elric.
=====================================================================================