Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ By Sightless Lightning ❯ Part III - Russell ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Alphonse was in one of his energetic moods, which was unfortunate because it didn't happen until after dark, and rain had picked up at dusk. Edward would have liked to put him outside, because there wasn't any room in the house that was big enough to keep him from knocking into things when he got careless, but the darkness and rain neatly precluded that. The next best option was the living room, although it had no fireplace and was therefore somewhat cold.

It was raining a lot more as autumn advanced, and the rain became steadily colder. The usually-spectacular fall colors had come and gone in a nondescript brown muddle under the assault of the frequent rain, leaving the creek swollen and the trees skeletal. The golden grass in the yard was turning grey now, and Edward was starting to feel cooped. But not so much yet that he was inclined to leave.

He brought a blanket and one of Winry's novels into the living room with him and stretched out on the couch, while his brother worked on exhausting his inexplicable nervous energy. Before opening the book, Edward watched him for awhile, watched him crouch motionless on the floor for the space of a long breath and then suddenly leap to his feet, spin awkwardly in a half-circle, then collapse back into a crouch to repeat. It didn't take long for him to spin himself too quickly and fall into a table; Edward stood up and would have gone to help him untangle himself from the furniture, but Alphonse growled at him.

Edward stopped at the growl, hesitated, and then returned to where he'd been and left his brother to sort out his own limbs. Sometimes it was like that. He told himself that there was nothing for it, but a needle of rejection stabbed him in the chest anyway.

Miraculously, neither the table nor Alphonse appeared to have taken injury, and soon enough the sandy-haired boy was again crouched on the floor, measuring out his pause.

The second time Alphonse fell into something (a dusty and disused plant stand), Edward had to bury his attention in his book. He couldn't watch anymore. Listening was hard enough, and the rain wasn't loud enough, nor the thunder frequent enough.

Nor was the book engaging enough, although he gave it a good try for over an hour. The books Winry had brought were mainly the kind of story that involved a lot of shy blushes and coy innuendo, and this one was no different. He forced his way through it, through shy looks and subtle hints that were somehow expected to communicate something, and finally he got to an argument between the two protagonists that made so little sense that he had to give up. He suspected that they'd kiss when the argument was finished, and was in no hurry to reach that bit anyway.

"This is ridiculous." Sprawling out across the couch, he let the book carry his hand to the floor. "Is this how girls really think?" He glanced toward Alphonse, who had gone still and was watching him with a small smile. "Listen to this, this girl drops these little hints that she wants to kiss this guy, and now she's told all her friends but not him. And she's mad at him because he doesn't know." He thought about it a little, and then added, "Maybe he's supposed to be a spiritualist and getting guidance from beyond. That would make sense, in a wacky kind of way."

Alphonse laughed as if he understood, and Edward grinned at him, raising the book as if he were about to throw it at his brother. "I can't believe Winry likes crap like this."

At this point, Alphonse should have said, I can't believe you read as much of it as you did, Nii-san. Edward could almost hear the words in the air, but they weren't voiced, and Alphonse only hopped to his feet and spun around in a half-circle.

Lowering the book again, Edward felt his grin melt and disappear. "I miss you, Al," he said finally, toward the floor. "I miss ..." Everything. The arguments, the fights, the card games, the discussions, the jokes and laughter. The trust, even when it took awhile to come around, from both sides. Comfortable silences.

He hadn't been able to touch his brother, but he'd had everything else. Now they could touch, and he'd lost the rest, and only the silence remained.

When Edward raised his eyes again, his brother was still at his spinning game and paying no attention at all.

Unable to stand it anymore, Edward left the book and blanket on the couch and went out onto the porch. He would have liked his coat ... it was messy and wet and cold, and the rain cascaded out of the night a little over a yard from the door, raising a fine chilling mist that clung to his arms and hands. This was more bothersome on his left arm to start, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the automail picked up the cold, and that could be tortuous.

Coatless and barefoot, he stood on the porch and watched the rain for a little while before walking out from under the eaves, taking the three steps down into the puddle of muddy cold water.

There was very little wind, but the first touch of rain on his face and arm was a shock; it was even colder than he'd expected. He spread his arms to either side and raised his face, closed his eyes, and let the rain come. The first trickles to get under his shirt and run down his back made him shiver, but before long his shirt was soaked, and so was his hair. The world strobed around him, and the crack of thunder sounded very close.

It was like being wrapped in ice. It felt good. It felt sane.

He was just about to go back inside when something out-of-place caught his attention; it wasn't immediately identifiable, as it was gone before he registered that it didn't belong. Brushing the wet hair back out of his eyes, Edward went still, peering blindly into the darkness for some kind of clue.

"Hmph." Maybe he'd imagined it ... but then it repeated itself. It was a sound, different from the sounds of hissing rain and crackling trees, and he barely had time to classify the sound as a voice before the owner of the hallo stepped into the dim halo of the light from the living room window, wrapped up in a hooded raincoat.

"Edward Elric? That is you, isn't it?"

Alert now that it was too late, skin prickling with something that might have been alarm or the first touch of fear, Edward shifted his stance slightly to put his shoulder toward the intruder. Rainwater dripped down into his eyes, and he blinked a bit to clear his vision. "Who wants to know?"

There was hesitation, and then, "Russell Tringham."



Edward did not immediately invite him in. They lingered on the porch, rainwater dripping off Russell's coat and every inch of Edward, and neither of them sitting in Alphonse's rocking chair. Edward was starting to become seriously cold, but he wanted to know what the younger alchemist was up to before he started acting hospitable.

"I'm sorry to show up so late," said Russell, who to Edward's annoyance seemed to have grown even taller yet in the intervening years. "I got some bad directions and got turned around at the crossroads, or I would have been here before dark."

"You're presuming an awful lot. What makes you think we want visitors, whether before or after dark?"

If he was affected by Edward's hostile tone, Russell did a good job of concealing it. "If you want me to leave, I will."

Edward had no idea how Russell had managed to find the house in the darkness and sluicing rain; turning him away and sending him to find town or other shelter in this kind of weather would be kind of cruel. Not as bad as if it were sleeting ... but if the temperature was really continuing to fall the way it felt to Edward, it might start sleeting soon. Sleet would be unseasonable, but not unheard-of. Then again, it was possible that he was shivering only because his automail was dead cold, and not because the weather was actually getting colder.

It was comforting to think that his unwanted visitor wasn't going to try to force his presence upon them, though.

"How'd you hear that we were here?" Edward asked.

"I didn't." Russell shook the skirt of his coat and scattered raindrops. "I looked in East City first, but you weren't there, obviously. I was told that you'd been transferred back to Central with the rest of your unit, so I went there next. Nobody in Central would even talk to me, except to say that you weren't there either. The rumor on the street was that you'd been transferred somewhere else, some said Southern Headquarters, some said East City, but I figured the military would admit it if you were just based somewhere else now. And I already knew you weren't in East City."

"So you decided to look here in some kind of fit of intuition. Brilliant. Want applause?" His shoulder was starting to ache beneath the automail port, and this wasn't improving Edward's mood. His thigh wasn't echoing the ache yet, but it was just a matter of time.

"Actually, no." Russell smiled a little. "I just thought that maybe somebody here would know what had happened to you. I didn't expect you to really be here. Where's your brother, by the way?"

It shouldn't hurt to be asked that. "Inside." He didn't elaborate, and this was accepted without question. Edward was starting to think that he shouldn't be leaving Alphonse alone this long, and gave the door an involuntary glance.

Russell sighed a little. "I can understand if you don't want me here. I would have written if I'd known you were here, and I really thought I could get here before dark."

"I'm glad you understand that." Edward moved to lean against the door, listening for sounds inside. "So why were you looking for me?"

The rain seemed to briefly slack up a bit, but then came back just as thickly as before. "I want to ask you to teach me."

"Pardon?" Edward couldn't have heard that correctly.

The stiff oilcloth raincoat rustled a bit as its owner shifted his weight. "I've had a lot of time to think about it. I came to ask you if you'd teach me what you know about alchemy."

Edward didn't really intend to laugh, but he couldn't help it; it was a bitter, horrible sound. "You want me ... me ... to teach you about alchemy." He laughed again. Ludicrous.

He wasn't looking directly at Russell anymore, unable to face the naivete that would ask something like that of him, but he could hear the strain in Russell's silence. When he'd laughed himself out, and wiped the tears from his eyes, he cast his gaze at the porch overhang.

"I didn't think it would be that funny," said Russell in a soft voice.

"You just have absolutely no idea." Edward opened the door, and said, "Come in."

Edward had drip-dried somewhat on the porch, but not completely, and his pant legs speckled the floor with water as he moved. "Hang up your coat beside the door," he said, stepping into the better light of the living room lamp. Alphonse had fortunately not moved very far, investigating the book that Edward had discarded, and he smiled up as his elder brother approached. "Al, want to go to the library?"

The automail arm was a known thing to Russell, but Edward couldn't recall the taller blonde learning about the other lost limb. Well, he could hear that his footsteps sounded distinctly different, one from the other; as accustomed to the difference as he was, it seemed impossible for Russell to not notice. When he cast a wary look Russell's way, though, his visitor was politely looking anywhere but at either Elric. "Come on, Al," Edward repeated, and touched his brother on the shoulder.

It took one more prompting before Alphonse climbed to his feet, less energetic now, but he was still in a contrary mood and twisted free from Edward's steadying hold on his arm. "Library," said Edward, with a nudge in the proper direction. He remained close by, though.

Alphonse made it almost to Russell before stumbling. Edward caught him, helped him back upright and then let go again, and glared viciously at Russell. Is this what you want to learn?

If there was effort involved in not staring at Alphonse, Edward couldn't see it on Russell's face.

When he caught Alphonse a second time in the library, Edward moved him into the chair next to the fireplace; it was hard to judge with his own hands icy, but his brother's hands felt somewhat cold. "Sit down," said Edward to Russell as he put a blanket over his brother's knees, and settled on the floor himself with his back to Alphonse's chair and his right shoulder to the fire. He stretched out his arm to catch as much heat on the automail as possible.

Russell hadn't sat down, and looked a bit lost in this library that was so bare of books, so Edward said again, "Sit down. You'll make Al nervous if you just stand there." This was a lie, Alphonse didn't care one way or the other and didn't seem to have even noticed Russell yet, but it had the desired effect.

"So tell me what I can teach you about alchemy. How to fuck up your life with it? How to destroy everybody around you? I could teach you that easily, and it probably wouldn't even take very long." A hand landed on his hair, and Alphonse began to toy with his wet braid.

Like any good supplicant, Russell had overlooked all the angry, bitter things that Edward threw at him, and he overlooked this as well although a hint of color came to his cheeks. "You're a good alchemist," he said.

"I was an irresponsible alchemist," Edward corrected.

Russell opened his mouth a little, and then closed it. Edward eyed him a bit, and said, "I did this to Al. And myself."

It was an interesting struggle that was played out on Russell's face; he wanted to know, but didn't want to ask. Edward frowned at him, and made no effort to make things easier ... if his visitor wanted to know, Edward was going to damned well make him ask. And, finally, he did. "What did you do?"

Edward thought about it. We tried to resurrect someone. We broke every rule, committed a crime against God and the person we were trying to bring back. And survived it. In Edward's case, three times running, although he had sort of cheated on the last one. That was the important part, the part that, when an alchemist happened to find out about it, sometimes brought the kind of blank bewilderment to their eyes that almost nothing else could. Edward used to like it, at least a little. Sugar mixed in with the vinegar. Yes, I screwed up, but look at what I did. I accomplished more in my error than you ever could in your success.

Maybe he still liked it, but instead of confessing, he said after a pause, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Well ..."

"Of course you would. Want to drop your own little brother off a cliff? I can show you how. Then you, too, can transmute without an array, and the cost is so low."

Russell's eyes were very blue in the firelight, and he glanced toward Alphonse in confusion. "I don't understand."

"It's not important. It was a mistake, and we paid for it, and tried to put it right, and ..." He turned his head a little, but didn't really try to look at his brother; Alphonse was still playing with his braid. "You can see the result. I suppose ... by one way of thinking, this could be considered an improvement, but don't expect any witty conversation. He hasn't quite recovered yet." Anger that this person was even present overrode most of Edward's other emotions, but he still had to swallow hard as he said this.

Edward knew he wasn't managing to convey very much. That was all right, though, he wasn't intending to.

Russell looked completely out of his element. Whatever he'd expected to encounter when he finally managed to locate the Fullmetal Alchemist again, it clearly hadn't been a slew of half-information and ill-veiled hostility. He gave Alphonse a thoughtful look, and Edward frowned.

"Don't stare at him, he's not a lab exhibit."

Instantly, Russell's eyes snapped back to Edward. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to offend you, really. And I'm not trying to pry into ... whatever happened. I just ..." He looked down toward the warm wood floor and said, "I can't go any farther without help."

"Then get help. But not from me."

"I've seen other alchemists," said Russell quietly. "None of them were as good as you."

Edward startled Alphonse by standing up; with Russell sitting, Edward could look down on the younger alchemist. His pants were still wet, and clung to his legs. "Aren't you listening to me? Am I talking to the chair, or to you? Whatever it is that you think I can teach you, you don't want to learn it."

Another glance was cast Alphonse's way, furtive this time. When Russell spoke, some of the servile politeness had left his voice. "There's no reason to think that I'd repeat your mistakes."

"There's equally no reason to think that you wouldn't. And no reason at all to tell you how to make them. Look," he said, when Russell would have said more. "The more you argue with me, the less I want to teach you how to draw a circle, much less what goes inside. So forget it."

Had their roles been reversed, Edward would perhaps have disputed this flat denial ... he had disputed it, in fact, when he'd been the one begging for a teacher. Russell was not him. "I'm sorry to bother you," he said, and stood up.

"Where are you going?" asked Edward, as Alphonse touched the back of his leg.

"I don't want to impose on you any more."

Edward scoffed. "Don't be stupid. You can sleep on the couch."



It might have been Edward's wishful thinking, but his brother's grey eyes seemed brighter later that night when they climbed their slow way upstairs to sleep.

"You are getting better, aren't you Al?" he asked, sitting on the bed with the covers turned down, waiting for Alphonse to finish undressing. Although his brother turned to look curiously at him, there of course came no answer. "You're going to be yourself again someday ... right?"

With his pants only half-off, Alphonse crawled over the bed and into Edward's embrace. Edward held him close, kissed the top of his head and let his brother try to burrow into his good shoulder. "It's okay," he said softly, unsure whether or not his brother really understood. "I still love you. Even if you're like this forever, I love you. Okay? I do. I do." He stroked his brother's hair awkwardly, partly because he had to do it with the automail and above all he didn't want to get careless and hurt him, and also because the feel of Alphonse's body next to his was affecting him. He did not want to put his own desires over his brother's again.

Alphonse tried to curl up closer, but he was just too tall and lanky and one leg was draped out across the mattress, trapped by the pants. "I wish you were the way you used to be," Edward whispered. "But if you can't be, that's all right. As long as you're happy. Can you be happy?"

The fingers of one of his brother's hands found the end of his braid; the other hand tugged at the steel over his shoulder. Edward grabbed the leg of Alphonse's pants and started to pull them off, but the angle made it awkward and slow. "Are you happy?" he asked again. Alphonse could smile, could laugh, and could certainly look happy, but did that mean he was? It was tempting to accept the smiles and laughter at face value, but Edward was reluctant to give in to that. How could anybody as bright and clever as Alphonse be happy in a state like this?

When the garment was off his brother, Edward dropped it by the side of the bed and got Alphonse to slide over a bit and get under the covers. The room held a wet chill despite the warmth of the chimney that took up half of the wall beside the bed, and Edward let his brother sleep next to the wall so he could get as much of the heat from it as possible.

He reached over to turn out the lamp, and paused when he felt a touch on his back. Then he felt Alphonse move away from the wall and spoon up behind him, nuzzling the scars on his back.

In Edward's already half-aroused state, that was all it took to send a thrill of lust through him. He cursed himself, his body, and all the circumstances that had led to his brother learning to look to him for sexual release. Instead of turning out the light, he rolled over and brushed Alphonse's hair back from his face, and was rewarded with a soft little smile. Edward kissed the smile, and his brother's arms went around his neck.

There was nothing more natural in the world than to warm the space beneath the blanket with slow kisses and gentle fingers on skin. Edward could drown in the heat and scent and taste of his brother, so familiar, so ... everything. Everything he'd ever wanted or needed, in all the years since that first crucial error, was between his hands and sighing against his cheek.

"I love you," he whispered against Alphonse's lips. "Forever."

Edward pushed his brother onto his back and straddled him on hands and knees, and dropped his open mouth to the throat that was offered. Hands were on his back, fingers on the bridge of scar that linked skin to steel over his shoulderblade; Edward shivered and groaned, and could feel the answering groan under his tongue. He knew what he was doing, and a twist of guilt settled into his belly as he dragged his pelvis up Alphonse's thigh to let his brother feel his erection. He knew what he was doing when he lowered his body to rest some of his weight on the body below him, but he did it anyway and told himself that Alphonse deserved pleasure. There was nothing wrong whatsoever with Alphonse's hormones or responses or desires ... except, of course, that it was all directed toward Edward. But that wasn't his fault.

There was nothing wrong at all with the way Alphonse's body reacted; no male in the history of the world had ever needed to be taught to thrust against a source of pleasure. Edward leaned a bit to the right to keep the deadweight of his automail on the bed and off his brother, and laid another open-mouthed kiss on the junction of Alphonse's neck and shoulder while Alphonse groaned and thrust hard into the soft hollow of his hip. Each motion sent a stab of pleasure through Edward as well, since his own cock was caught between them too, and he found himself breathing soft, gasping encouragement into Alphonse's ear.

There was only just so much of that that Edward could take before it drove him crazy, though. In the end, with the fabric that separated him from his brother damp and sticky, he pushed himself onto his right side next to Alphonse and tugged his brother's underwear down to his thighs. Alphonse attempted to roll onto his side and kiss Edward, but missed, and a moment later was too busy arching his hips into Edward's hand.

Edward kissed his brother's head when Alphonse was finished, and licked his hand clean as Alphonse snuggled against his chest. And it was then that he had a sudden, horrible realization.

Russell was downstairs.

No matter how disgustingly turned on he was, there was no possible way that Edward was going to be able to go downstairs tonight and jack off in the bathroom.

"Shit," he whispered, and wished that Alphonse would just go straight to sleep and let him try to squash his erection in peace. It was a futile wish; his brother never did that. Once his breathing had calmed somewhat, Alphonse began to nip hesitantly Edward's chest, eventually finding one nipple to suck on like an infant.

Edward whimpered. In time, Alphonse would get drowsy and nod off, but he wouldn't be able to take care of himself at that point, either. And the longer he remained the target of his brother's affectionate cuddling, the more intolerable it was.

"Al," he said, but couldn't seem to get out any more than that. His skin was sweaty and he felt overheated, and Alphonse's mouth and tongue were still on him and ...

"Hell," he whispered, and gave in. He had to get up a bit, spread his knees to brace himself, and in his shame he kept his eyes closed, as if that somehow made it acceptable. When he touched himself, he had to bite his lip to keep from making a sound because Alphonse was still licking his nipple and now rested both hands on Edward's thighs. It only took a few strokes to make the pooling ache in his groin overload.

Collapsing forward, he found himself kissing his brother's hair, and felt like crying ... but he often felt like crying right after he came nowadays. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and choked on a sob.

Careful hands touched his wrist, and then picked up his hand; Edward opened his eyes just as moist lips closed over his finger. Blinking to clear his vision, Edward watched in astonishment as Alphonse licked milky semen off his fingers.