A/N: This is an old fic that I started for a prompt in the FMA Kink-meme over on LJ and I never finished it, that was more than a year ago, but I've decided to pull it out of mothballs and re-upload it to the regular boards and give writing another go, it's been ages! Hopefully, you'll enjoy.

He looked like an angel, with piercing eyes of the deepest gold and hair that shone in the bright mid-afternoon sun and glowed ethereally in the moon's pale, white light. Rarely did he smile rather he grinned, welcoming others to grin with him and shrug off the sadness in those eyes. His body appeared so small, so fragile draped in clothing that didn't fit him quite properly and his short stature to match.

He laughed too loudly for decorum's standard almost all of the time and he fumbled the German language so badly he couldn't say anything too quickly but the curse words without biting himself. Occasionally he'd clap his hands together with purpose; small tongue poised anxiously between his teeth and touch something. After a few seconds his expression of determination faded every time into a perplexed frown and he would withdraw into himself thinking of something no one else knew.

He'd shout every insult he could come up with if someone commented on his height and turn green if he was offered milk. But, sometimes he'd really smile, small or large and Alfons' heart skipped a beat with every one. There was just something about him that couldn't be explained or quantified in all of the scientific equations that chased each other around in Al's head he was simply head over heels.

His name was being called through the barrier of the doorway in a thickly accented voice he would have recognized anywhere making him stir uncomfortably atop his thin mattress. "Heiderich! Heiderich, I know you're in there!" Alfons groaned, taking a moment of thought before Edward shouted again making him reach for his watch on the bedside table. The hands read four-forty-four and he groaned, knowing the neighbors would complain if he allowed Edward to continue his tirade much longer.

"I'm coming, Edward," he said loud enough, he hoped, that his friend would hear and stop beating on the door as though it were a steel drum and slipped from the warm confines of his bed to the cool, hard floor.

It wasn't unusual for Ed to turn a random hair and come barging in at any odd hour of the day but Alfons still wondered what exactly had sparked his enthusiasm this particular morning and he hurried to drag on a pair of slacks and throw a shirt over his bare shoulders.

"Hurry up!" Invaded his still groggy thoughts and he did just that, fastening the buttons of his shirt as he walked and doing his best to ignore the pain in the toe he had just crushed against the door frame. Alfons flipped the deadbolt on his door, smiling slightly at the flutter of light beneath it where Ed was tapping his foot impatiently.

After opening the door Al didn't even have the chance to get a look at Ed before the young man breezed past him a blur of gold talking a hundred miles a minute and starting in so quickly Al's sleep addled mind didn't even catch the first sentence.

"…So, when I came home this morning he's yelling at me? That stupid bastard disappeared on me for years and now he thinks he can step in and just be my father again? What right does he have to grouch at me as though I've done him some terrible wrong staying out a little late? Besides, I'm seventeen years old; I can take care of myself." Edward huffed ever so childishly and fell despondently onto the ragged green couch in Al's living room, finally sparring Al an actual glance. "You look like crap," he said bluntly before rolling his head back against the couch cushion to stare up at the ceiling.

Alfons ran a hand back through his night tasseled hair and took a deep breath. "It's five o'clock in the morning, Edward," he reminded, rubbing his knuckles against his eyes to see a little more clearly in the dim dawn light. Edward sighed again.

"I know. But you don't mind, do you?" Shaking his head a definite, Al gave the Ed a quick once over, noting that he was wearing a set of his best clothing, black slacks over shined shoes and an actual suit jacket instead of his usual vest. His silken honey hair looked like it had once been pulled into a high ponytail but had since been mussed to an almost unrecognizable state.

"I don't mind," he voiced, allowing himself to walk over and lean against the edge of his desk. "But why don't you start over from the beginning, what is it your father's done?" Ed swung one leg over the other nonchalantly.

"Just being an ass like usual." He muttered, seeming somewhat less intent on ranting madly having deflated some with the initial outpour. Alfons couldn't help but note how nice he looked; dressed to the nines even in his rumpled state and he wanted to move closer. Instead he ended up folding his arms across his chest and waiting for Ed to elaborate. It took him a few moments of swinging his foot up and down and making eye contact with the ceiling to actually begin, but eventually he did. "I got home late-."

"Wait, how late?" Alfons asked, remembering that it was terribly early or, judging by Ed's appearance, very, very late.

"Uhm, I think it was a little after four." Alfons balked, resisting a gasp, he wasn't sure he'd ever stayed out that late in his life other than when he was at work or with Edward.

"What on earth were you doing until four in the morning?" He asked finally, not bothering to hide his surprise, it was much too obvious no matter what.

"I was just out," Ed answered evasively, seeming to again find something, anything but Al's face, very interesting. It was somewhat like masochism, wanting Edward to tell him what or who he'd been out doing until four o'clock a.m. when he knew perfectly well what the answer would be, if Edward ever decided to give one. He had, as it seemed he always was, out with- "Roy, okay? We were…caught up. Besides what does it matter to you what I was doing?" Edward huffed; the answer unwittingly tore into Alfons' chest not minding that he had already guessed the words.

Roy Mustang wasn't such a bad man, only thirty-one and already the chief of police, and a good friend of Maes Hughes, the local patrol officer. He was a sort of hero, having flown among the ranks of the new wave fighter pilots in The Great War and survived, like so few in that business had and now he held a large amount of clout in local government and the civilian mind. He was an upper-class kind, and never afraid to show it dressing in the best clothing that could be found in Munich, residing in one of the larger houses that remained after the bombings and lavishing Edward in gifts and expensive evenings.

Alfons had not had much of a chance to speak with him at any point, only brief hellos and greetings of such, and Al supposed he had done nothing to warrant his immediate dislike, other that is, than taking such a liking to Edward. It seemed that since the first evening Ed had agreed to meet with him Al had seen him as the enemy, though he did his best to remain neutral.

It was unfortunate, though, how knowing who Ed had been with made his would-be adorable appearance seem sullied. His mussed hair more likely the result of a grabbing hand and the rumpled clothing probably came from the press of lustful bodies. Simply the image made Al shudder. "I suppose it doesn't," he said after a moment, adjusting his back where the edge of his desk was beginning to dig in uncomfortably. That was truth, it didn't really matter. Edward could probably have been doing absolutely anything, spending the evening running down kittens if he pleased, and Alfons would still have been there come five in the morning to be a shoulder to cry on. Or, in this case, complain on. So, he prompted, "And?"

"And that idiot comes running down the stairs when he hears the door shut and starts yelling like someone set off a friggen bomb in his head. Feeding me all of this bullshit on how I should have told him how late I was going to be, or at least called when I was running so late. I told him to shove it," Edward sounded almost proud of that statement, like he'd done something phenomenal telling Hohenheim off and there should have been nothing endearing about it but Al smiled slightly anyway, because it was so much Edward. "It's not like he should have any control over what I do, I wouldn't even be living with the asshole if I didn't have to." Alfons decided against pointing out that he had, on more than one occasion, offered to let Edward move in with him but the blonde had always found some sort of excuse to change the subject and Al had let it be.

"So, why didn't you go back to Mr. Mustang after the outburst?" Alfons asked, a little of the jealous demon lurking inside his mind baring its claws. Ed sighed, almost offended but it was more likely he didn't even catch the implication.

"He has to work in the morning. Besides, I'm sure he wouldn't want to listen to me go on about Hohenheim."

"So you came here?"

"Yeah, I did. You said you didn't mind, didn't you?" Ed looked at him, his gold eyes were tired and he wasn't smiling but Al couldn't stop his heart from racing anyway. That was the second time Ed had asked that question in just the short time he'd been there, and the answer remained the same.

"No, I don't mind."

Alfons didn't mind being a doormat for Edward, at least not for now. He took in the smooth tanned face again, and smiled gently. "I bet you're exhausted, would you like to take the bed?" Edward grinned and nodded, jumping from the couch as enthusiastic to go to sleep as a child would be to go to the candy store.

He didn't bother to ask if Alfons would rather keep his own bed for the remainder of the morning, and maybe that was terribly rude but still it didn't seem to bother Al, it was just another piece of Ed.