Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Playing With Fire ❯ Mobile ( Chapter 3 )

Sorry about the (broken) five day rule. My sister in sin, Insanity, was a bit annoyed that I posted early, which is why this is late. (Equivalent Exchange, eh?) Something about the fact that she has less time to finish her side of the story. It's not like she lost a week or anything. She still has two weeks to finish her chapters.

 

Thanks to: .d o g.s t a r.d r e a m s. , omniscient01200, lost.in.her.own.dreams, and roxie-san for reviewing. Sorry about not thanking you earlier.

 

(one of the reasons it's a good idea to review is I get mail. So instead of angsting about why I have no unread messages, I'm writing and keep my mental health somewhere near well.)

 

Other than that I'm going to tell you absolutely nothing about the next chapters. Though if you love foreshadowing, I'd suggest looking up the side effects of Luvox (the meds Ed's on).

Character sketches do exist. Unfortunately, they're only minor characters, like the waitress (and her hair) and the Judge. I'm considering posting them on Deviant Art (maybe).

La Alta Costra is a special joke of mine. It means, in Spanish, The Upper Crust. And in my town, we have a café thing called Upper Crust. If one really does exist in San Diego, that would be awesome and a little freaky.

 

I don't own Naruto or X-men

 

Playing with Fire

 

Because if you play with fire you're going to get burned

 

Chapter Three: Mobile

 

Hanging from the ceiling,

Life's a mobile,

Spinning around with mixed feelings,

Crazy and wild.

—-Avril Lavigne, Mobile

 

 

 

It was silent on the way to the restaurant. Ed was scowling in the back seat, his bad mood practically palpable. Al was smiling apprehensively in the front seat and Hohenheim kept his eyes trained on the road. There was something going on between his boys and he was going to figure out what. He just didn't know how… yet.

 

Unfortunately, Ed and Al were both chronically underage, which ruled getting them both drunk, out. Damn. That happened to be Hohenheim's best plan, aside from just asking. Not that would work. Al would refuse to explain in front of Ed. And Ed, well just getting Ed to talk to him without shouting was going to be hard enough.

 

Hohenheim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he came to another stoplight. He hated the amount of stop signs in this town. That was the one thing that hadn't changed. The traffic. It was still as bad as it ever was. He sighed, before glaring impatiently at the driver to the right of him. It took that blasted woman a full two seconds to realize it was her turn to go. For Hohenheim, who drove like he was in San Francisco all the time, it was two seconds too long.

 

Al cleared his throat slightly, reminding Hohenheim that honking his horn was not the appropriate thing to do. With a great force of will, Hohenheim resisted the urge. Though he shot the woman a dirty look. He almost wished Al, always the silent conscience of the family (so like Trisha, was she really dead?), hadn't been there. But that was stupid. Ed wouldn't have been there if Al wasn't.

 

This was going to be difficult; he'd never had to deal with the emotional side of things. For all that he was an artist, renown for capturing emotion, he was hopeless. Perhaps that was his one skill with emotion. The ability to translate it into something he understood: Art. However, that talent wasn't going to be of any use in this situation.

 

Trisha had always dealt with the emotional side of things, Hohenheim thought. Now she was… He hadn't been able to take it. There was nothing worse in the world than watching someone you love waste away until they died. He couldn't bear to watch her die, knowing there was nothing he could do.

 

`The cancer is so advanced.' Those had been the words he'd caught the nurses whispering to each other. Surely they had told Trisha the same thing, but he was so numb he couldn't hear it. It was too painful. She was going to die no matter what, and he couldn't bear to hope. It would just hurt more when she finally did die. He couldn't bear the pain. Besides, Trisha didn't need someone permanently teetering on the edge of a breakdown hanging around her.

 

But Trisha couldn't understand that. She wanted him near her, but she'd let him go. Hohenheim liked to think she'd done it for their sons, not him. After all, seeing one parent die before their eyes was enough. They didn't need to see their father become an alcoholic or go insane.

 

“Let's go there!” Al said, pointing to a fairly busy restaurant. In the rear view mirror, Hohenheim saw a smile ghost across Ed's face. Perhaps this was his favorite place. There was so much he didn't know, and so much he would never know.

 

Especially since he was only one taking. Hohenheim thought the brothers would be easy enough to manage and would get along with Sue's kids just fine. But after Ed's tirade, well, if that was how Ed took Hohenheim's mere presence, he shuddered to think of Ed's reaction upon learning that Hohenheim was engaged.

 

 

Ed smiled at the choice of restaurant. Al had picked what he thought was Ed's favorite restaurant. It wasn't that Ed didn't spend time at the place, because he did, he just had other reasons than the food.

 

The first time he'd come to La Alta Costra was in 8th grade. It was the second Minimum Day of the year and he had no idea of what to do. Last year he'd just gone home, and later to the hospital. But now, there wasn't any reason to hurry home. Winry's private school didn't have let them out until three and Al was in elementary school, and above all, Ed didn't want to be alone.

 

He'd had to stay after to take a short quiz so he missed the bus. Ed didn't feel like waiting for the three o'clock one (that came sometime between the hours of three and four). That left hitching a ride with Russell, however Russell had stayed after school for basketball practice. Ed wasn't about to sit and watch tall, fast guys run around and dunk. He wasn't that much of a masochist.

 

Ed had grabbed a few dollars for lunch money, before realizing that he didn't need it for school lunch. However, that meant that if he spent his money right, he could eat out. This was something of a rarity; he'd gone out with his friends, but never alone.

 

He been browsing around the downtown area when he walked into the least busy restaurant he saw. That was how Ed wound up at La Alta Costra. It was a café uniquely suited to its location. Its breakfasts were easy to grab and the coffees were superb. The lunch consisted of sandwiches, salad, and possibly a soup. It wasn't so pricey that high school or even junior high students couldn't afford it, nor was it so cheap that it drew the masses. This had the effect of weeding out the louder teens, and kept the adults from complaining. Ed hadn't expected the café to be as nice as it was, and it soon became his favorite.

 

He'd come there constantly after Russell had ditched him, and later it had made the perfect hangout for him and Jeff. At first Mark and Davis had insisted on coming with them, then stopped. Jeff said it was because of all the glares they got from the adults (all of whom seemed to be writing novels or at least newspaper articles). Ed privately thought it was the prices that discouraged them. It was simply too much for them to pay just to listen to Jeff and Ed talk about boring things. Slash wasn't a problem. He didn't believe in restaurants.

 

Ed sighed. Al couldn't possibly realize why he liked La Alta Costra so much, but at least it was a nice gesture. That or it was an attempt to placate Ed. Ed personally didn't care. No restaurant could make up for the torture he was about to endure.

 

 

Ed glanced at the waitress that showed them to a table near the window. Al smiled at her with sweetness that verged on vulgarity, at least in Ed's opinion, and considering the type of mood he was in, that opinion was pretty damn biased. Hohenheim politely smiled at her, but didn't flirt. That was good. Ed wasn't sure he could've handled that.

 

The table was decent. It wasn't right next to the door, so there weren't any drafts. But it wasn't too terribly near the kitchens. And it wasn't the booth that he always shared with Jeff. And there wasn't any pervy redhead to share it with.

 

Ed shook himself. Thoughts like these would get him nowhere. The unmemorable waitress disappeared into the kitchens.

 

“What can I get for you tonight?” the new and rather buxom waitress asked. Ed eyed her carefully. She used to work on the day shift when he first came here, her name was Amanda, he recalled. She had changed her hairstyle once again. It looked like someone had taken Sasuke Uchiha's hair added volumizing shampoo, a blow dryer, then crossed with an electrocuted Wolverine, and then hair sprayed the resulting style into place. Sadly, this was one of Amanda's more conservative hairstyles. At least she kept to the dress code of pants and a shirt.

 

“I'd like milk,” Al said. Ed made a face. He had never been able to see how anyone could drink that stuff. It came out of a cow's well.. you know, and no matter what Mr. Pasteur had proven, Ed didn't trust it.

 

“Scotch on the rocks.” Amanda didn't bat an eye.

 

“Coke?” Ed asked hopefully. He hoped the owner had finally fixed the—

 

“Nope. The machine's broken,” Amanda replied without looking up from her pad.

 

“Cherry Coke?” Ed asked. He couldn't stand Pepsi. And under no conditions would he stoop to order diet anything.

 

“We have that,” Amanda said, winking at Ed, before striding off to the kitchen, her prominent bosom parting the crowd of newer waitresses like Moses parted the Red Sea.

 

“So Dad,” Al began, “Are we going to move in with you?”

 

Ed slouched into the booth. He didn't want to live with That Bastard if he could help it. That ranked pretty high on Ed's Things Never to Do And Are To Be Avoided At All Costs list. It was right up there with going to Al's church. At least, Hohenheim had the decency to look surprised.

 

“Well, if you want to,” Hohenheim left the sentence to dangle. He glanced at Ed and Ed gave him a glare strong enough to peel slightly damp paint.

 

“Really?” Al said, looking like an attention-starved puppy. Ed scowled in disgust. How could Al forgive That Bastard so easily? This wasn't like the Al Ed remembered. That Al never forgot anything, and he didn't forgive, he just gave second chances. A lot of second chances. However this was different from a second chance. Ed had been given a “second chance.” Hohenheim was forgiven.

 

The conversation moved on. That Bastard, apparently, had some very nice property in the Puget Sound area. Ed knew nothing of that area save that it was in Washington (very far from San Diego) and it was cold and rainy (not Ed's first choice of climate). Ed knew nothing more about it and wanted to keep it that way. It sounded awful. And that was without the added presence of Al and Hohenheim and whatever tart That Bastard decided to drag in.

 

Hohenheim had alluded to that possibility. Al didn't realize this possibility. Of course, That Bastard hadn't said anything directly, but he didn't need to. It was all too clear from the awkward sentences in the conversation. He refused to meet Al's eyes when Al had asked about the neighborhood children. Then the detail in which he proceeded to describe only one “neighbor's” children was suspicious. One simply does not know one's neighbors like that. Ed guessed they belonged to that woman who'd caught Hohenheim's attention.

 

Needless to say, Ed wasn't exactly in the greatest of mood when the food came. He'd ordered a clam chowder, ignoring Al's sidelong glance. As long at the milk was in something else (like hot soup), he didn't mind it. You couldn't taste the stuff when it was cooked with what-ever-the-heck they put in clam chowder.

 

However, Ed couldn't do more than play with the soup. The thought of moving to some rainy hell, with Al, who just barely tolerated Ed, Hohenheim, who Ed just barely tolerated, and That Woman, who Ed would never tolerate, had taken away his appetite. Then there was the amount of alcohol That Bastard had consumed. Just driving to La Alta Costra had been nerve wracking. Hohenheim drove like a maniac. Ed had felt the bile rise in his throat several times and was not looking forward to repeating the experience.

 

“I wish Jeff were here,” Ed thought, dipping his spoon into the cold soup.

The door opened and Ed reflexively glanced at it and nearly dropped his spoon. It was Jeff. Ed blinked. He could hardly believe his eyes. Amazingly enough, Jeff was really there. This was the last thing he'd expected to happen today.

 

One of the waitresses came over and started to flirt with Jeff. He turned away from her and glanced around the room, his eyes lighting on Ed. For a moment it looked like Jeff was going to come over. Ed shook his head, panicked. He couldn't have his boyfriend just drop in, Hohenheim didn't know he was gay and considering what Jeff was wearing (peircings, pants, and not much else) Al would freak. He'd never forgive Ed.

 

Jeff looked puzzled. Ed jerked his head towards his brother and That Bastard. Jeff still looked puzzled. He'd seen Al before, but not Hohenheim. Ed raised his eyebrows., trying to communicate without words. He knew better than to mouth words at Jeff. The redhead was terrible at lip reading and would end up making a scene. Still, Jeff wasn't exactly stupid and should be able to pick up on the general family resemblance.

 

Jeff shrugged and allowed himself to be seated. He ordered a drink, but no food. He waited just long enough so that it wouldn't look suspicious before getting up and heading to the bathroom. He sent Ed one significant look and Ed knew that if he didn't appear shortly, that Jeff would do something incredibly stupid, like introduce himself as Ed's boyfriend. Ed nodded and turned to his father and brother.

 

“I have to go the bathroom,” Ed said shortly, interrupting a conversation about the Mariners. Al nodded and Hohenheim muttered something. Ed ignored him, got up and walked to the bathroom.

 

“Jeff what are you doing here?” Ed asked as soon as he entered the bathroom. He ignored the lingering smell of urine and stale air freshener. Jeff just smirked.

 

“I thought you might be here,” Jeff said pinning Ed against the mauve tiled wall effortlessly. Ed stiffened. He still hadn't gotten used to people touching him. Jeff leaned in to kiss Ed but he panicked and placed a finger on Jeff's lips. Things were moving too fast; he couldn't take it.

 

“Not here,” Ed hissed glancing at the door. “What if someone walks in?”

 

“No one's going to walk it,” Jeff said, cocky smile on his face that was simultaneously infuriating and endearing.

 

“You don't know that,” Ed replied hotly. “If Al walks in then—

 

“Never mind that, its just added spice,” Jeff said flippantly.

 

“Easy for you to say, he's not your brother,” Ed muttered but didn't pull away as Jeff trailed his fingers up Ed's sides. Ed held his breath, waiting for the inevitable arousal. Except, nothing happened. Ed felt nothing. Maybe he should stop taking Luvox, but going off of the medication was the equivalent of violating his parole. He couldn't do that.

 

“Looks like someone's been practicing their self control or it's the medication screwing you over. Please get that looked at.”

 

“I will, I will, just—I—

 

Ed laid his head on Jeff's shoulder. He couldn't take it. Ed had practically lived in a constant state of arousal since he hit puberty and now he didn't feel anything. Ed didn't feel anything for Jeff or any guy. Even the idea of sex didn't warranted so much as a twitch. Throw Al instantly forgiving That Bastard and Hohenheim just being there and Ed couldn't handle it. Everything's changing, out of what I— great,” he thought, now an Avril Lavigne song could describe his life. This was a new low.

 

Still, Ed knew he wasn't going to stay here. Hohenheim didn't know Pinako. Ed's only hope was that Hohenheim found Ed's behavior so rotten that he'd send Ed somewhere else. Ed didn't care. But he couldn't just leave Jeff hanging like this; it wasn't fair nor was it right.

 

But breaking up doesn't fit with Equivalent Exchange, Ed thought. He'd first heard of that philosophy from an online comic (Iron and Alchemy). It decreed that for everything gained, something of equal value most be lost and vice-versa. Jeff had waited for Ed, so Ed should wait for Jeff. But that wouldn't work. Jeff had waited for five months knowing that Ed was going to come back. Ed couldn't wait for three years for someone who could never be with him. Sure there was college, but Ed had planned on going to UC San Diego, while Jeff had set his sights on the local community college. However now that Ed wouldn't have in state tuition that vision was an impossibility.

 

Breaking up with Jeff wasn't just the right thing to do, it was the only thing that benefited both parties. Surely that counted toward Equivalent Exchange.

 

“Thanks,” Ed said, pulling himself together. He would debate the philosophical side of his decision later, possibly in Washington.

 

“Anytime,” Jeff said, and he meant it. He loved Ed's cuddling moods almost as much as he enjoyed watching him jack off. Ed was never sure which Jeff preferred and didn't want to ask. It was too embarrassing.

 

“I want you to know you've been great, and I couldn't ask for a better first boyfriend, but—

 

“No buts,” Jeff said, avoiding comprehension. Ed smiled sadly. Jeff could be as dense as molasses on a cold day. Ideas just refused to enter his mind and stick. Jeff had used this particular talent to piss off most of the subs they'd had and even some of the regular teachers. The only way to get through to Jeff when he was like this was to ignore it. Something Ed had a great deal of practice at.

 

“Yes, I'm going to be moving.” Ed stated.

 

“How far? Maybe we can still see each other on weekends—

 

“How far is it from here to Washington?” Ed asked, he was almost sure that he wasn't going to be living in Washington, but Jeff didn't need to know that. It'd give him too much hope. If it was going to be a clean break, there couldn't be hope. Jeff's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

 

“Exactly,” Ed said, bracing himself for complaints.

 

“Can we—

 

“What? Write? You take months to answer the shortest letters. Talking on the phone is out of the question because of the phone bill,” Ed said, taking away each of Jeff's options one by one.

 

“What about email or IM?” Jeff pleaded.

 

“I don't even know if they have that in Washington,” Ed muttered.

 

“It's not the end of the world—

 

“It's five short miles away from Canada. You do realize they still ride around on horseback there,” Ed said.

 

“But doesn't your dad work, he'll have to Internet access,” Jeff said, visibly grasping at straws.

 

“He's an artist,” Ed said. “And even if they get Internet up there, what makes you think I'll be allowed to use it? And even if I could, you'd be in an online relationship and I know what you think of those.”

 

“But this is different,” Jeff complained.

 

“How so?” Ed said raising an eyebrow.

 

“It just is,” Jeff said before muttering, “Fine, I guess you're right.”

 

It broke Ed's heart to put Jeff through this. But Ed had to do it. If he didn't, Jeff would never be able to move on. He'd cherish the hope and if Ed allowed Jeff to hold on, he would never be able to break up with Jeff. And if he found someone Ed couldn't be with them, because of Jeff. So the clean break was for the best.

 

Ed smiled before saying:

 

“I am right, Jeff.”

 

 

“He's been gone for a while,” Al said, glancing worriedly at the bathrooms. Ed was wretched at being discreet. Ed probably though he was being sneaky by waiting a few minutes before going to the bathroom. It didn't take a genius, let alone someone who'd lived with Ed for thirteen years, to read the none too subtle looks Ed had sent that guy. Al didn't miss the fact that the redhead's eyes had never left Ed's, save for when he finally left for the men's room. Add that to the fact that Ed was gay, always came here, had a long time boyfriend, and Al had a match. If that guy wasn't Ed's boyfriend, he'd be surprised.

 

“He's probably fine,” Hohenheim said, but shifted in his seat nonetheless. Al sent him a worried look. No one, not even Pinako was immune to that look.

 

“But it wouldn't hurt to check,” Hohenheim admitted. Al smiled, once again he'd gotten his way.

 

Hohenheim smiled in return and got up. Al was such a happy, agreeable child. He already knew that he'd get along just fine with Sue's three children. Ed on the other hand, was going to be nothing but trouble. Hohenheim had been wary about even going to see Ed; it was Sue who'd talked him into the trip.

 

Well, it was more of a guilt trip, since she used the phrase `how long as it been?' and `he's probably just lacking a father figure in his life'. The last one had hurt. But the thing that had really made up Hohenheim's mind was the mention of Al, or as Sue put it `the other boy.' Al didn't deserve to be neglected just because Ed was being difficult.

 

Though that led to the question, what was he going to do with Ed. He couldn't just leave the boy here. Sue was a psychiatrist and often stated that kids caused the most trouble between the hours of three and six. That was how she convinced him to stop painting in the afternoons and look after the kids. Ed's arson just proved her point. Sue would agree about moving Ed. Only problem, she'd want to move him to Washington so she could work with him.

 

That wouldn't work. Hohenheim knew that if Ed held him responsible for Trisha's death, he'd never accept Sue's help. Especially because Sue could be stubborn and prying at times. And while that might've worked on her patients, it would never work with Ed.

 

Hohenheim sighed at placed his hand on the door, ready to open it.

 

“I am right Jeff.” That was Ed's voice. Hohenheim froze. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but this was the only way he'd learn anything.

 

“Are you sure? We could make it work, people have—

 

“They weren't fifteen. Besides you can't just wait around for me.” Jeff was a boy's name, Hohenheim thought stupidly, his mind refusing to work.

 

“Yes I can.” The other distinctly male voice protested. He's gay, Hohenheim thought. Well, that was one thing I didn't see coming.

 

“Don't.”

 

“But some long distance relation—

 

“Jeff, listen. I don't want to tie you down. I'm not going to be back for years, maybe never. You'll find someone new and—

 

“They won't be nearly half as perfect as you.” Jeff protested. Hohenheim had to give Ed credit. He sure knew how to pick a … a significant other that adored him and would stand by him.

 

“Jeff, be reasonable.” And Ed certainly had no second thoughts. That or he was hiding them.

 

“Fine, send me postcards love. And if you meet someone, tell them if-if they hurt you, they'll have to deal with me.” Hohenheim backed away from the door and walked back, grateful for the fact that Al could see the door from their booth. He couldn't believe it. As if it wasn't enough that Ed was a pyro. Still, he'd been an artist and lived in San Francisco long enough to realize that prejudice wasn't good for business. Besides, there'd been the fact that Hohenheim knew gay couples who were incredibly devoted to each other. They would never even think of walking out. Not like he'd done.

 

Hohenheim walked back to the table. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. Not with all the ideas he'd had shattered today.

 

“So?” Al asked when Hohenheim returned.

 

“He's coming,” Hohenheim said, wincing at the innuendo. He hoped it wasn't true or soon to become true.

 

“So what's the ocean like in Washington?” Al asked, moving the conversation back onto comfortable ground. Hohenheim paused a moment, exactly how much did Al know or guess?

 

“Hey, Dad,” Ed said grimacing at the unfamiliar word. Al's eye's widen in shock. Ed had just called Hohenheim Dad, as opposed to That Man or That Bastard or even Hohenheim.

 

“Yes,” Hohenheim replied, feeling as if he'd been hit in the head by a two by four.

 

“This is my friend Jeff, we haven't seen each other in a while and I was wondering if I could ride home with him?” Ed asked, smiling like Al had. However, Ed smile was more of a show of teeth than a smile, and the effect was terrifying rather than convincing. However, Hohenheim didn't want to cause a scene. It would give him time to talk to Al alone. And avoid negative contact with Ed, a voice in Hohenheim's head whispered. He ignored it; it sounded too much like Sue.

 

Liar, the only reason you're caving is because this is the first time in six years he'd called you Dad. Hohenheim ignored that all too truthful thought.

 

“Ah, sure,” Hohenheim said, still in partial shock. Maybe Ed would come around. Something told him that was asking too much. The only reason Ed was being civil was so his boyfriend wouldn't be curious and so Hohenheim would relent. Classic ploy, but it was working.

 

Hohenheim looked at Jeff. He was taller than Ed, but that was to be expected, as Ed was just barely as taller than the average sixth grader. Jeff was no where near Hohenheim's height of 6'7, but definitely had the look of someone who would get there. He was tanned, well-muscled, with curly red hair, and if he wasn't clearly under the age of eighteen, Hohenheim might've asked him to model for him. Ed sure knew how to pick guys.

 

“Bye Dad,” Ed managed to say through gritted teeth. Jeff waved good bye.

 

 

“I can't believe he actually said yes,” Ed whispered excitedly. Jeff sighed. He couldn't figure out why Ed couldn't stand his dad. Of course, his mom had died last year and Ed seemed to hold it against him. But that wasn't his dad's fault.

 

“I mean, I thought he'd want me to stay with him, family time, I guess,” Ed said with a shrug. Jeff felt like crying. How could Ed continue like nothing had changed? He'd just turned Jeff's whole world upside-down and now he was complaining about his only parent. Jeff couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. Did he really mean so little to Ed? Or was it the Luvox, that Jeff was beginning to hate.

 

“And I can't believe—

 

“Shhhh,” Jeff pulling Ed into an unlit corner.

 

“Jeff, what are you doing?” Ed said, his voice wavering.

 

“Don't ask, just listen,” Jeff said, looking down at Ed. Ed was gorgeous. The faint blue lights from the street lamp lent a silver glow to Ed's golden features. Jeff unconsciously ran his finger up Ed's sides. Ed shivered as Jeff's finger danced lightly up his arms. This time with purpose, Jeff ran his fingers along Ed's jaw line. Damned if he was going to let Ed leave without giving him a proper goodbye.

 

Ed gave one of his peculiar keens when Jeff's fingers massaged his throat. Jeff smiled. Ed, when he was hot and bothered, was the sexiest thing on earth. Jeff continued, he loved the feeling of Ed's throat beneath his hands. He leaned down, hoping to do more than touch when Ed hissed:

 

“Do you hear that?” Jeff shook his head, but listened nonetheless. Voices, not far off, sounded.

 

“So I can really live with you?”

 

“Sure.”

 

It was Hohenheim and Al. El stiffened beneath Jeff's hands. Jeff frowned; he still couldn't understand why Ed got so upset whenever Jeff brought up his parents. Of course, Jeff didn't have much experience with parents; he lived with his grandmother.

 

“Ed—

 

“Shhh, I'm trying to listen,” Ed hissed back, entwining his hands with Jeff's in silent apology. Jeff huffed but held on. This was the first time Ed had initiated any form of physical contact since he'd gotten out of juvie.

 

“I think they're gone,” Jeff ventured, glancing back at Ed. Ed still looked panicked, and Jeff knew that he wouldn't calm down until he was at Pinako's or Jeff's house.

 

“Yeah me too,” Ed muttered still looking rattled.

 

Headlights turned on and an engine started somewhere in the parking lot. Jeff ignored it and focused on Ed. He was determined to memorize Ed's face completely by the time the night was through.

 

“So where were we?” Ed all but purred, pressing himself against Jeff. Jeff felt something hard poke him in the thigh. Unless Ed had started carrying a rolls of quarters around in his pocket, he was turned on. Jeff smirked triumphantly. He'd brought the old Ed back.

 

“So—

 

Ed silenced himself and pressed harder against Jeff. Jeff glanced over at the parking lot, bright head lights were coming their way.

 

“Jeff, you're going to pick me up and walk backwards before my brother and dad see us like this,” Ed said in a clipped voice, a hint of fear creeping into his voice. Jeff had no problem obeying that command. He easily lifted Ed up to about eye level.

 

“Wrap your legs around me,” Jeff whispered, contemplating squeezing Ed's ass. Sure Ed would freak, but it was his ass. To squeeze, or not to squeeze. Jeff squeezed.

 

“Did you just squeeze my ass?” Ed asked, his voice strangely high-pitched. The headlights had drawn closer.

 

“Yes,” Jeff said, low and sultry, before squeezing Ed's ass again. Ed's eyes dilated, and he jerked in Jeff's grip before regaining control far too quickly for Jeff's liking.

 

“Stop that, well at least wait. Now back up before they see us,” Ed hissed. The headlights were almost on them. Jeff stepped back and fell over a crate.

 

“Fuck!” he yelped before Ed slammed his face on his mouth. Jeff sworn again. Only this time it was purely mental because Ed was biting his tongue. The engine stopped.

 

“Who's there?” Ed's dad said, stepping out of the car with his flashlight. Jeff looked at Ed. Ed was practically shaking from fear, his eyes were mere pinpricks in his almost glowing yellow eyes. Ed's dad stepped closer. If he moved that blasted flashlight just a few more inches to the right, he'd see them.

 

“I think I see something—