"You're beautiful," Dan told him much later, after they'd cleaned themselves off and were lying together in Dan's bed.
Al looked down at himself. He could feel his face growing hot.
"You just sucked me off, but that makes you blush?" Dan asked, amused.
"It's..." He paused. "I was... sick for so long, and then recovering. I'm not used to people noticing how I look. I don't know what to say to it."
"Usually, you say thanks," Dan told him, cocking his head to one side. "Or return the compliment. You should practice; you're going to run into the problem again."
Al could feel his face getting hotter. "Thanks," he said. "Um, you're nice-looking too."
"Quick learner," Dan said. "I guess I should have expected it."
Al closed his eyes and breathed, letting himself focus on the beating of his heart and the warmth of Dan's body against his skin.
Dan shifted. "I know what it's like to love someone who doesn't love you back," he said, his voice rumbling against Al's back. "And I know what it's like to love someone you shouldn't love. To feel like you're wrong just for feeling it- I know that."
Al tensed, sorrow flooding back into his body like a poison. "I'm sorry," he said, softly.
"You'll always love her," Dan told him, his voice so blunt as to be cruel. Al rolled away, covering his face with a hand, struggling to control the tears that pricked behind his eyelids. Dan ignored him. "That's what I learned. You'll always love her, so there's no point fighting it. But loving her isn't what's killing you. Letting it stop you from living the rest of your life, that's what hurts. Letting it cut you off from the people you care about is what's driving you crazy."
Al pushed himself up. "How do I-" he started. "I don't know-"
"Loving her doesn't mean you'll never love anyone else," Dan told him. "Love her, sure. But let yourself be with other people too. If you don't, this will eat you up."
If he hadn't just... done what he had done with Dan, Al reflected, he wouldn't have believed that what the other man was suggesting was possible. Now, though, his body relaxed from sex that had been far removed from the longing that had bruised his heart, it seemed... conceivable, at least.
Dan sat up. "You can stay here tonight," he told Al. "But after you go tomorrow, don't come back."
"What- why?" Al said, hurt.
Dan looked over at him. "You don't need to drink yourself out of having to face your problems," he told Al. "And you can't see me again." His face turned fierce. "This isn't a relationship, and I can't have people thinking I'm queer. I have to live in this town."
Al wanted to protest, to argue that it wasn't like that, that it wasn't fair. But Dan was right. Al didn't even know the other man's last name, much less anything about him other than that he had been kind, and he was a bartender, and he liked to sleep with men. And Dan didn't know anything about Al at all. Al had used Dan to feel something other than despair for a few hours. He couldn't ask anything more of the man. "I understand," Al said. "But I can stay for tonight?"
Dan nodded. "I always was a sucker for a handsome man with a sob story," he said, his lips quirking upward.
"Thank you," Al said. "Thank you for everything."
Dan ran his fingers idly through Al's hair. "It's nothing," he said. "Really."
Dan was already gone when Al woke up in the morning. There was coffee and a slice of buttered bread waiting on the table. Al ate and showered and dressed, feeling- something. He wasn't sure what, exactly. He walked the few blocks back to the bar, and got in his car, and drove.
He was surprised to find that he was driving back to Resembool.
Ed was there almost before he'd gotten out of the car. As Al turned to face him, Ed punched him, his fist impacting squarely with Al's jaw. "What the hell are you doing back here, Al?" he shouted, angrily. "Winry cried all last night-"
Al slid down the side of his car, his head spinning. His face felt hot, and he suddenly realized that he was crying. Once the tears started, they wouldn't stop. He buried his face in his knees.
"Al?" he heard Ed saying, distantly. "Dammit. I'm sorry." And then Ed's arms were around him, and Al felt like he was fifteen again and so gloriously and painfully not in control of his body; he felt like he was six again and crying in his big brother's arms. The pain and shame and fear and confusion of the last months and years broke through him like a wave, and he sobbed, clutching helplessly at Ed's shirt.
"Hey," Ed said, alarmed. And "Al." And eventually, "It's okay. I'm sorry, Al. It's okay."
"No," Al gasped. "No, don't be sorry. Please."
"I shouldn't have hit you," Ed said, resting a hand on the top of Al's head. "I'm sorry for that."
Al nodded. He leaned his head silently against Ed's collarbone.
"You are such a crybaby," Ed said, teasing.
Al pulled away. "Sorry," he said, wiping his eyes.
"It's okay," Ed said. "I... know this kind of thing is hard for you sometimes, still. It's okay."
Al shook his head, leaning back against the car door. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have walked out on you like that."
Ed nodded, but didn't say anything.
"Brother?" Al said, after a while. "What would you think if I told you that I liked men?"
Ed turned to look at him sharply. "Wait, what?" His face scrunched up. "Like, liked them? Like Garfiel?"
Al shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "I think I like women too." He leaned his head back. "But I slept with a man last night. It was good."
Ed made a face. "Way too much information, little brother," he told him. "The less I have to think about your naked ass, the better."
Al shrugged. He felt numb, like he'd thrown himself against a wall so many times it didn't even hurt anymore.
"Hey," Ed said, frowning suddenly. "This isn't what's been bothering you all this time, is it? Because I don't give a shit who you sleep with. You're my brother, and I love you, and I don't give a damn what people think. And if anyone says shit to you, I'll kick their ass if you need me to."
Al huffed out a breath. "I can look after myself, Brother," he said. "I could always beat you, after all."
"Still," Ed said, looking into the distance. "Why wouldn't you talk to us? You've been weird ever since you came back from Xing."
Al turned his face away. "I wanted someone I couldn't have," he whispered. "Someone who didn't love me."
Ed's face scrunched up again. "Who is it?" he said. "Do I need to kick someone's ass?"
Al couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes. "Not everything can be solved by kicking someone's ass, Brother."
"Lots of things can, though," Ed said, grinning. "Seriously, though, Al- who wouldn't want you? Whoever it is, they're losing out."
Al sighed. "I don't think so," he said. "I just need to get over it."
"Well, don't worry us so much while you're doing it," Ed said. He stood up and held out a hand to Al. "C'mon," he said. "Winry's waiting."
Al took his hand, and followed him into the house.
Winry was beautiful in her wedding dress. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes sparkled, and when Ed pulled her into his arms and kissed her, she glowed with happiness. Al breathed. It was okay, he told himself. People always cried at weddings, and no one had to know that his tears weren't entirely happy.
Later, he made a point of asking lots people to dance- including a very surprised Brigadier-General who nonetheless agreed to let Al spin him around the dance floor. Captain Hawkeye watched from the sidelines, her expression by turns bemused and thoughtful.
Paninya caught up to him near the punch bowl. She was wearing a dress for once; a silky, mustard-colored thing that set off her dark skin. "Alphonse Elric," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You sure turned out to be a looker under all that armor."
As she dragged him out onto the dance floor, it occurred to him that Paninya didn't remind him all that much of Winry, either.
