Title: Happiness Is
Author: Kaltia
Rating: R
Genre: Fluff, sap
Pairing: Elricest
Notes: Gift fic for Kalika Maxwell.
Word Count: 1,402

What is happiness?

Happiness is -

It is very warm here, beneath the blankets. Ed stretches out languidly, like a cat in a sunbeam, and then folds back in on himself with an indignant little squeak as Al trails a gentle hand down his midriff.

"Morning, brother," he says softly, running his hand over Ed's cheek and tilting his sleepy face up for a kiss. This done, Ed slumps back on the pillow, hardly noticing when Al reaches out and twines his fingers with Ed's. "Do you remember what day it is today?" Al asks, leaning over and brushing Ed's bangs out of his face. Ed's eyes open a slit, the gold dark and rich, the pupils still dilated.

"No," he mumbles. "Wan' go back t'sl'p - "

"It's your birthday, idiot," Al replies with a soft grin. "Honestly brother, getting forgetful in your old age?"

That gets Ed awake, when not much else would have. He sits up, teeth bared. "I am NOT getting old! It was just one grey hair!"

"Where there's one, there will be more," Al retorts with a wicked grin, and with a thunderous snarl, Ed pounces on him, knocking him off the bed. "Ah - brother - !"

"Gonna show you! Old, huh?"

"Brother! Stop it!"

"No way!"

"I said, stop it!"

"Ow!" Ed struggles feebly, but Al has pinned him down well and truly to the floor, kneeling across his legs. He tries to move his arms out of where Al has crossed them over his chest, but his younger brother has a good grip on both his wrists with just the one hand, leaving the other free to - "Uwah!"

Al smirks and carries on tickling his exposed ribs and throat, and Ed jerks wildly beneath him, laughing helplessly. "Revenge, brother," he says when Ed stops squirming and glares up at him, his scowl occasionally twitching as Al finds a particularly sensitive part of him. Eventually he sits back, releasing Ed's wrists and climbs to his feet. "You shouldn't have pounced on me like you did yesterday, you know. Anyway, come on. I'm going to make a special breakfast for you."

He turns back to his brother and holds out his hand; Ed blinks at him for a few long seconds, before his face splits into a warm smile and he reaches up to take it.

Happiness is -

His arms are filled with a huge wicker basket, containing food bought from the village a mile down the road. Bread and cheese, two bottles of milk - Ed's going to hate that, he knows, but you can't make a good cake without milk - and a bottle of cream, jam in a tiny jar, tied with a plaid cloth; sugar, eggs, flour and a little bowl of strawberries. A bag hangs from his wrist, in which are some neatly wrapped chicken breasts, the part of the bird he knows his brother likes most. He walks slowly up the hill towards their home, not wanting to jar any of the more fragile items, and wonders what he'll cook tonight. After all, it's not every day that his older brother turns twenty-five.

He pushes the door open and sets his burdens down in the kitchen, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face - it's growing out, he'll have to cut it later. Ed wanders in as he's unpacking the basket, hair dripping over the floor. "Brother! I've told you before, dry yourself up when you have a shower, you get the house sopping wet - "

Ed sticks his tongue out and pads over to the stove, crouching in front of it. They never let it go completely out, and Ed just transfers a log from the pile beside it onto the dying fire with the tongs, prodding it to get it to catch. This done, he shakes his hair out and leans closer to the heat, and Al shakes his head. "Don't let yourself catch fire," he warns. "Like last time."

Ed colours and hunches his shoulders. "That was an accident," he mutters. "You try having hair this long, if you think it's that easy."

Al hides his smile with his hand. Ed's hair has grown out, like his, but Ed refuses to get it cut. Braided, it reaches down past his hips; Al loves running his fingers through it, soft, warm gold. "Maybe I should do that, then. Anyway, I'm going to start cooking soon, so you'd better scram."

"Or else you'll what?" Ed asks, turning back and raising his eyebrows challengingly, then flinches when Al raises an egg and makes as if to throw it. "All right, all right, I got you! Jeez." He climbs back to his feet, closing the stove's little iron door, and squeezes his hair out one last time. As he makes his way out the of the kitchen, Al's arm flashes out and catches his elbow; when he turns, startled, to his brother, Al drops his elbow and instead wraps both arms around his neck, tangling his hands into Ed's hair.

"Happy birthday," he whispers, into Ed's shoulder. "Love you."

"Al, you sap," Ed says with a grin, settling his own arms comfortably around Al's shoulders. "You know how I feel."

Al closes his eyes, just for a second, and smiles.

Happiness is -

Ed's hair is unbound, scattered over the pillows, and Al takes a moment to sift it through his fingers, rub it against his face. "Al," Ed says hoarsely, then clears his throat and tries again. "Al. Hurry up."

"You're so impatient, brother," Al replies with a scowl, setting his hands on Ed's shoulders and leaning forward to nip lightly at his throat and collarbone.

"No, you're just slow," Ed grumps, and Al pushes himself up to claim his brother's mouth in a kiss. Ed tastes like the meal they just shared, the remnants of which still lie on the table downstairs; it's certainly not bad, and Al hungrily deepens the kiss, his hands sliding up the warm skin of Ed's shoulders to cup his face. They part with a gasp, Ed panting to get his breath back, and Al sets a hand over his brother's franticly rising and falling chest, right over his heart to feel the steady rapid beat.

Ed's eyes are half-open and watch him curiously; he slips his free hand down Ed's right arm, to hold his hand tightly. "Al?"

"Mmm?" Al murmurs, as his mouth closes gently around a nipple. He feels Ed stiffen beneath him, and smirks into his brother's skin as he toys with it, nibbling and licking and sucking. Ed writhes softly underneath him, even before one of his hands slides up to close around the other nipple, at which point his brother gives a low, throaty moan. "You were saying, brother?"

"Al." Ed's eyes are hazy with pleasure, his cheeks slightly flushed. Al smiles and releases his nipples, slipping further down Ed's body and bracing himself with his hands on Ed's hips. "Alphonse. Thank you."

Al's mouth curves into a smile, and he ducks his head down gracefully to take his brother in his mouth. Ed moans and writhes on the sheets, but after a while he freezes; confused by the reaction, Al lets go and looks up, curious. "Al."

"Yeah?"

"There's a bloody cat staring at me." Al blinks at him and Ed jerks his chin sharply over to the windowsill, where a hunched figure with a pair of shining yellow eyes can just be seen. Pushing himself up off his brother, Al scoops the cat - a kitten, really - up and holds it out to the light, so that he can see which one it is.

"Socks!" he exclaims. "I wondered where you'd gone!"

"Al," Ed growls, and Alphonse turns to look back at him. "Get her out."

"Why? She wasn't doing anything wrong," Al says with an indignant little scowl, and Ed places a hand over his eyes and takes a few slow, deliberate breaths.

"I don't have a voyeurism fetish, Al. Make her beat it. My libido's already shot to pieces."

Al sighs and rubs his face against the little kitten's. "I'm sorry, Socks," he says, opening the bedroom door and crouching to put the cat on the rug outside. "Brother's cruel and heartless." He shuts the door, careful not to catch the little kitten's tail in it, and then climbs back on the bed and settles back between Ed's thighs. "Better?"

"Aside from the libido thing, yes, much," Ed retorts sourly, and Al smiles.

"We can do something about that, you know," he says lightly, his tone a challenge, and Ed smirks acceptance.

Alphonse wakes slowly the next morning, body lax and reluctant to move. There's a storm raging; they didn't draw the curtains last night, and through the rain-lashed window he can see that the sky is pure grey. He stretches out his toes, wiggles them softly, and relaxes with a smile. Ed's arms - both of them flesh and blood, warm, human, alive - are wrapped around him, and he can feel his brother's breathing, steady and deep, against the back of his neck.

This is happiness. Being with Ed, going to the market to buy food, mornings and nights - all of it. This is what happiness means, what it is, and for a moment, Alphonse is thankful that they've been able to appreciate it. A decade ago it had seemed the last thing they would find; a fourteen-year-old Alphonse hadn't even been sure that they would survive to see the end of their quest at all. "Sometimes things surprise us," he whispers, and in response Ed mumbles a sleepy query against his spine. "Nothing," he says in answer, smiling. "Nothing at all. Go back to sleep, brother."

In a moment, he'll have to get up, take a shower, and start breakfast. But for now, watching the storm bluster outside and listening to his brother's breathing, he's perfectly happy to lie there and bask in the warmth and comfort.

This fic was for my friend Kalika, who requested angst-free ficlet. I hope she likes it!