So. I apologize for getting any part of the train horribly terrible wrong. I was on a train. Once. Eight years ago. In Finland. I'm basing the train off of that and the trains I saw in the FMA anime/manga. So if it's actually anything like a real train, much less the Starlight, I'll be amazed.

I do not own the Coast Starlight. It's the perfect, for writers. Who are writing about it. It can travel at the speed of plot whilst arousing no suspicions. It gets people to their destinations on time a whopping 2% of the time. It's generally 5-11 hrs. late. Admittedly it does not go to San Diego. It stops at LA. San Diego is further south. It really has been nicknamed the Starlate.

Here's the wikipedia article on it:

.org/wiki/Coast_Starlight

This is the link to the music video by Ash (which I do not own):

/watch?v=qQ-m7kRi87I

They suck, but they have a song named Envy so…

Here is what the earrings look like:

.com/res/img/subcat_pearls_earrings_

List of things I do not own:

Ash

FMA

JC Penney

Wet

Coast Starlight

The Veela Enigma

Dragon Tamer

Chapter Six Envy

Envy, envy, envy.

Breathless, weak I'm distracted, I wanna get under your skin.
A fever, you leave my mouth dry, but, I can't do anything.
Can't stop this burning from within

-Ash, Envy

Hohenheim was silent on the way to Starbucks. That was fine with Ed. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now, especially That Bastard. Ed shifted and the light blue sweatshirt pulled tight, making him scowl. He'd gotten the sweatshirt when he was in fourth grade for the class field trip to San Francisco. The only size they'd had left was extra large, and all Ed remembered about the trip, besides the fog, was everyone making fun of him and his huge sweatshirt. Winry had said that it made him look scrawny. He'd kicked her and the teacher had gotten mad.

Now the jacket was too small. Ed would have much preferred to wear his windbreaker, but Hohenheim insisted that he wear the sweatshirt. Ed fiddled with the sleeves. He'd never needed to wear it in San Diego, and it couldn't be that much colder in Chico. If anything, Chico would be hotter since San Diego had the coastal breeze.

Ed braced himself as Hohenheim floored the rental car in a desperate attempt to make the light. Ed didn't see what drove Hohenheim to take more risks than a teenage boy in a sports car. He was supposed to be older, more mature, and concerned about his son's motion sickness.

Ed flung out his arms just in time to save himself from painful contact with the dashboard when a puttering old car cut in front of them. Hohenheim muttered something under his breath about the driver's mother.

Ed glared at Hohenheim. He had felt safer when Winry was driving, and she alternated between speeding and going far too slow. Anything was better than this. From the way Hohenheim drove, it would be safe to assume he was imagining himself on a racetrack. 'Well, folks it looks like Old Auntie Ethel has just cut in front of Hohenheim Elric! How will he react? Will he be able to win the race at this rate?'

Oh yes, that was definitely what was going on in his head, Ed thought viciously as the light turned green and Hohenheim honked at the poor old woman in front of him. She slowly rolled down her window and flipped him the bird. Ed stared at her in shock. She looked to be about eighty and seemed like one of those sweet old grannies, not like Pinako.

Hohenheim's eye twitched, and he floored the car and blasted into on coming traffic. Normally the streets of San Diego were deserted early in the morning. However, this was Tuesday and one of the cafés had food delivered on Tuesdays. At least that's the best possible explanation Ed could come up with for the presence of the delivery truck bearing down on them.

Hohenheim didn't even flinch at the oncoming headlights. Instead he floored it and they shot through the gap between the old lady and the truck. Ed nearly threw up. Then Hohenheim really stepped on it and they flew forward again. He casually flicked his left hand signal on, and then, without even bothering to slow down for the turn (if anything they went faster), Hohenheim sent them careening around a corner and into a flock of pigeons. They pigeons scattered. Ed's suitcase slid to the other side of the car where it hit with a dull thud. Hohenheim swore and honked. Ed just stared at him, with the growing feeling that he was going to be lucky to escape this alive. Never mind the contents of his stomach.

Hohenheim suddenly flicked his signal on and turned the wheel, with a second or two for lag time. In the next second Hohenheim sent the car barreling into the Starbucks parking lot. Ed's suitcase slid to the other side. Ed winced and hoped that Al's present wasn't fragile. Another race-car turn sent them hurdling into a parking space. The car was silent. Hohenheim had stopped the motor.

Ed unbuckled his seatbelt, and practically dove out of the car. Once out in the cool salty air he stood on shaking legs and breathed deeply. He was alive. That was…something, Ed thought as he walked towards the building, ignoring Hohenheim's fiddling with the keys. Starbucks was going to have a hell of a time removing the skid that started at the entrance and ended on the other side of the parking lot.

Ed opened the door and was greeted with the faint ding of a bell and the sickening smell of over-sweet coffee. This Starbucks looked exactly like every other Starbucks that Ed had been inside. Clean, faux cozy, and vaguely green. Only now there was no glowering redheaded presence breathing over Ed's shoulder and coming precariously close to his ear, muttering about the evil capitalism of the place.

"Espresso, four shots, no milk," Hohenheim said to the sleepy looking waitress as he walked in. Ed glared at him. He'd been thinking of Jeff and how the redhead always delighted in Ed's discomfort, especially in public. Hohenheim had killed that train of thought before it had a chance to be fully realized. Not that it could really go anywhere thanks to the Luvox, but still.

"Is that all?" the woman asked, her eyes half closed behind her thick black glasses.

"Ed?" Hohenheim asked.

"A grande chai latte and a raspberry scone," Ed said automatically, staring at his feet. Jeff would have ordered a blueberry muffin. That was the only thing he'd ever buy at Starbucks. He wouldn't even get water from Starbucks. Whenever Ed had asked him about that he'd start muttering about its inherent evilness. Ed had never understood why Jeff hated Starbucks. It wasn't like the store had done anything bad, save for becoming highly successful. Still Jeff hated it and Ed didn't question it. Mostly because if he did, Jeff would make comments about milk and Ed's height, or as Jeff put it, lack thereof.

"That's all?" the sleepy woman asked, flipping her black bangs out of her face. She looked more awake now. Well, maybe not more awake, but less comatose.

Hohenheim nodded. Ed ignored him and turned up his music. The harsh fast paced drumming of Ash drowned out the subtler sounds of Nora Jones. Ed mouthed the words of the chorus, 'Sunshine in the Morning.' He tapped his foot to the fast beat.

"Here," Hohenheim said, scowling as he handed Ed his chai tea and a bag. Ed took a sip of the tea and was met with a mouth of whipped cream. Right, because Starbucks always added whipped cream regardless of your preferences. Ed swallowed it down and grabbed a stirring stick from the jar on the counter. Whipped cream was far too much like milk for Ed's comfort.

The parking lot was chilly after being in the warm building, and Ed shivered before catching Hohenheim's concerned glance. Ed glared back. He didn't need That Bastard's sympathy and he certainly didn't need a larger coat. This one was fine. It was more than enough.

Ed opened the door to the dark blue sedan and sat down in the passenger seat, feeling like he was willingly agreeing to torture by motion sickness.

…………

On the way to the train station, Ed tried everything he could think of to avoid throwing up. Normally he would have drunk his tea, but he didn't want to risk spilling it all over his lap, a real hazard thanks to Hohenheim's crazed driving. Instead, Ed counted sheep, crossed his eyes, and contemplated suicide.

"Here you go," Hohenheim said, screeching to a stop at the San Diego Train Station parking lot. Ed scrambled out of the car. He breathed in the cool sea breeze for what was most likely the last time. He savored the tang of the salty air before opening the door and grabbing his suitcase.

Last night, when he'd discovered there was only one suitcase he could use, Ed had made Winry promise to send up more of his belongings later, when she had time to pack them. She'd called him short, mocked his packing skills, and eventually promised she'd send them up, in return for letters.

"Here's the ticket," Hohenheim said, handing Ed a small piece of paper. "Come on, you don't want to miss the train."

Ed shot Hohenheim a glare and trudged along after him, lugging his suitcase along the concrete pathway. The suitcase banged against his left leg. Ed ignored it and followed Hohenheim through the dark passageway. There were posters of what Ed assumed were advertisements. Though they could've been porn for all he cared. He was being forcefully removed from his home and therefore was in no mood to see whatever advertisements the local train station put up. Besides, it was too dark to make out most of them.

As they reached the end of the dark hallway, Ed glanced up and saw that there was more on the wooden walls than just posters; there were windows, most of which were dark. Ed guessed that there were offices for the stations employees. The wall on the left dropped away and they were once again exposed to the cool San Diego breeze.

Hohenheim walked up to the only ticket window open and glared at the newspaper he was faced with. The man behind said paper slowly lowered it, returning Hohenheim's glare. He, Ed thought, looked more like a crusty old seaman or a pirate than a ticket collector. The patch across his right eye did not help matters.

"Ticket for the 4 o'clock Starlight," Hohenheim said in clipped tones before taking another gulp of coffee. Ed peeked through the window. The man's office was minuscule, hardly larger than the average closet. The rough wooden walls were covered with framed black-and-white photos of old trains. The plain desk and its accompanying tables took up most of the space, leaving the old man with barely enough room to turn around. There was a computer in the corner and small photos decorated its edges, like a shrine to the man's family. Ed stared at the pictures and nearly gasped out loud in disbelief. Instead of faded snapshots of small children and a woman, there were more pictures of trains.

"Just one?" the man queried, raising a thick gray eyebrow. Hohenheim nodded but didn't explain. The man shrugged, placing his newspaper down. Ed stared at his feet. What sort of person had pictures of trains in his office instead of family photos? Sure, the man worked at a train station, but still.

"Starlight you say?" the man asked again. He even sounded like a pirate, Ed thought idly as Hohenheim nodded.

"It hasn't come in yet," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What do you mean it hasn't come in yet?" Hohenheim asked. "Is it late?"

"It's the Starlight," the man said with another shrug, as if that explained everything. Of course, it might have meant something to that man and anyone else who had ever ridden the Starlight, but it didn't mean a thing to Hohenheim or even Ed. Even though he'd grown up in San Diego, he'd never ridden the train before.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hohenheim demanded.

"It's always late," the man answered, thrusting his newspaper up. Ed turned up his music. Of all the trains he'd had to get, it had to be the one that was constantly late. It probably had loads of turbulence or whatever the railway equivalent was.

"Do you have any idea of when it's going to be in?" Hohenheim asked, grinding his teeth.

"No." was the curt reply, emphasized by a flap of the paper.

Hohenheim glared at the man again. It didn't do much good.

A train whistle blew in the distance. The man looked up over his newspaper. The action reminded Ed a hound scenting the breeze. The man's droopy jowls only magnified the effect.

"It's in," the man said, before returning to his newspaper. Hohenheim fixed the man with a steady glare, mouth partway open to deliver a stinging sarcastic remark. Ed slouched into the wall. His father was being so immature. Ed didn't see how Al was going to be able to stand him. Al complained enough about Ed's immaturity and Ed wasn't even an adult.

"The Starlight Express has entered the station," a clear feminine voice rang out on the PA system. Hohenheim's eye twitched. Ed smirked. Serves the stupid bastard right, he thought.

"Loading place is that way," the man inside said, pointing to his right. Hohenheim glared at him again before stalking off in the direction the man had pointed. Ed followed, keeping a healthy distance. He could practically feel Hohenheim's rotten mood radiating off of him. And if Ed was picking up something like that, it was bad, or at least that's what Winry would have said. Well, that's what Winry would have meant when she said 'You sense emotions like Pinako senses burning food.' That statement was further emphasized by a cloud of thick black smoke emerging from the kitchen.

Hohenheim stopped suddenly and Ed nearly walked into him. Ed glared at his father while he read the ticket.

"It's this one," Hohenheim said, finally giving Ed his ticket. Ed glanced at it before looking at the train. It was lightish colored with blue stripes. A few people got off the train and blinked dazedly.

"Good luck," Hohenheim said. Ed stared back at him, waiting for Hohenheim to do something. He did nothing. Ed ducked his head as he realized what he'd been waiting for. A hug.

"Bye," Ed said barely managing to keep the disappointment and wistfulness out of his voice. Dammit! He didn't need anything from That Bastard. And he didn't want anything from him either.

"Here," Hohenheim said, awkwardly thrusting a small box at Ed.

"Thanks," Ed said, nodding, a small smile twitching at his lips. He hadn't expected anything and therefore hadn't gotten Hohenheim a thing. Though he was sure Al would come up with something touching from the both of them.

"Goodbye Edward. Give my best to Izum—Mrs. Curtis," Hohenheim said, his voice dull and flat, save for the last bit, which was said as fast as possible. Ed said nothing. If this woman was so terrifying that she could make a grown man flinch whenever he uttered her name, then why was his father sending him to live with her?

"Bye," Ed said, his voice equally devoid of emotion. "Tell Al I'll miss him."

And with that he boarded the train.

………………….

Ed walked down the isles looking for an empty seat. He felt exactly the same as he had five minutes prior. It wasn't logical but he'd been expecting something to change. In the instant he'd stepped onto the train he'd stepped out of Hohenheim's control and out of what he knew. He figured that such an event should be coupled with a corresponding sensation. He should at least feel like he'd started a new chapter in his life.

He didn't.

Ed took his time choosing where to sit. He wanted a window seat. Well, what he'd really wanted was a bed, but his ticket was not for a sleep coach and he had to make do with a bench seat.

Ed eventually settled on one by a window and near the front of the coach. He spotted Hohenheim and waved. He waved back. Then the engine started and the train pulled away from the station.

Now Ed should really feel like he was beginning his journey into the unknown. Instead he felt nervous and slightly homesick. Was this how the Lewis and Clark expedition felt, Ed wondered, before they'd left to go explore the Louisiana Territory? Of course, it had probably sucked more for them, since they could be killed. And in some cases they were killed. Ed, however, wasn't going to die any time soon.

Ed sighed and stared out the window, watching dark shapes flash past his window. He still couldn't believe all of this was happening to him. It seemed like only yesterday he looking forward to summer vacation, like any normal boy was. Not that Ed could ever be normal; he had a boyfriend and jacked off to fire. Normal people just didn't do that.

Then things started to go downhill. They'd had a 4th of July party at the twins' place with just the four of them. There'd been alcohol there. Mark and Davis insisted that everyone had some. Even Slash had unbent from his usual position (It's demon-brew and I'm not touching it) and drank a glass. Jeff had no inhibitions and easily downed a beer and a half. He would have drunk more if it hadn't been for Ed.

Ed, it turned out, could not hold his liquor. He'd gotten drunk off a single beer. It was then Mark and Davis had discovered just what type of drunk he was. An obedient drunk.

In retrospect, that had probably been the time when Mark and Davis came up with their Plan. Jeff hadn't liked the devious looks in the twins' eyes and had started looking for a way out. Ed hadn't liked Jeff's method of escape. Jeff, on the other hand, had found it hilarious. His brilliant plan was Give Ed So Much Beer He Throws Up.

Ed did not consider it brilliant per say, but it had worked. Though he'd always thought that Pinako suspected that it wasn't food poisoning that led to Ed's horrible vomiting. She'd never said anything and Ed had felt it best to let sleeping dogs lay.

The train slowed to a stop and more sleepy people filed on to the train. Ed sighed as he watched them through his window. There was a lady in a nightgown and robe saying goodbye to a man in a crisp business suit. He was wearing slippers, Ed noted apathetically. They were pink and fluffy.

After a few more minutes the train started off again.

……………

Normally the gentle rocking of the coaches and soft sounds of the train would be enough to send Edward into a deep sleep. However, the coffee that Hohenheim had brewed kept Ed from falling asleep. That ruined his plan to sleep on the train. Now he didn't have anything to do.

He stared down at Hohenheim's present.

The box was small and looked like it had originally been an expensive jewelry box. The top was dark blue, plain and without any ornamentation. The bottom was a creamy white, with some French looking design embossed on it. It was not a masculine box.

Ed eyed it warily. It was far too elegant to be something Hohenheim would just pick up. Perhaps That Tramp had something to do with it.

With that thought in mind Ed lifted the lid. A note on faded parchment fluttered out and landed on the floor. Ed picked it up and read it.

For our eldest daughter, the note read:

Wishing you nothing but the best on your special day. Have a sweet sixteen and treasure these pearls of wisdoms.

Love,

Trisha and Hohenheim, your proud parents.

Ed glanced at the other sheet of paper. It read:

Ed,

Sorry I didn't have a real Christmas present for you. I found this in a box. The necklace was your mom's. Her parents gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday. When she was pregnant with you, we went out looking for earrings. She picked them out. She was so excited about having a daughter and then well, you can see what happened.

Ed glared at the paper. It made sense. Things he'd thought were strange suddenly seemed normal, expected in fact. Like how his mom had never complained about the length of Ed's hair (17 inches and growing). And that day when she taught him how to French-braid his own hair. She'd never complained about buying Ed hair ties or how they ended up all over the house. He'd wondered about that and now he knew. He was supposed to be a girl. That sucked.

Though, maybe Mom wouldn't have minded Jeff so much, Ed wondered. He shook his head. It didn't matter now.

Ed read the rest of the note.

So, we never had a reason to get the necklace. Trisha sent me hers a couple of years ago. She wanted me to give it to either you or Al (depending on who had a daughter first). But I decided to give it to you. Since Al's getting her engagement ring (to give to his wife) I thought you deserved something of hers.

Have fun at Izumi Mrs. Curtis's!

Hohenheim Ulbrecht Elric

Ed glanced down at the open box. The necklace and earrings were covered by white tissue paper. Ed tore it open. On a bed of white cotton there was a necklace of medium sized pearls. Ed touched it reverently. His mother had worn this. And his daughter would, if she could exist. Ed wasn't betting on it. Ed reread Hohenheim's note. He wondered when it had been written. Al was getting an engagement ring. Yep, either Al had blabbed or Hohenheim had seen them. Oh well, there wasn't much he could do about it. He was on a train and Hohenheim was going to be in Washington with the heathens.

Remembering the earrings, Ed opened the box.

The earrings were nice, Ed supposed. Instead of being one pearl in each ear things like Ed imagined, they were clusters of four teardrop-shaped pearls. They were still studs, Ed discovered as he peered at the box.

Ed guessed that giving him the earrings had been a nice gesture, aside from the fact that Hohenheim had just about said 'Your mom wished you were a girl.' The necklace was also nice, regardless of the fact that it was meant for a girl. But what was he going to do with earrings and a necklace? He was a guy. He couldn't just wear earrings like that. Maybe if they were small and single pearls, but those clusters were so utterly feminine that he'd be beat up within an instant of walking outside.

Oh well, perhaps he'd meet some guy and adopt a child someday, if it were ever legal in the US. Ed scowled at the thought. Sometimes he really hated the system.

In no mood to stare out the window any longer, Ed attempted to yank his iPod out of his pocket. It didn't budge. Cursing his leather pants, Jeff's desire to see him in skin tight leather, and That Bastard, Ed carefully wriggled the iPod out of his pocket. Choosing a playlist at random Ed jammed the earbuds in his ear.

The song of the electric guitar surrounded Ed. The lead singer counted to four and the drums started.

Ed smiled. Ash was his favorite band and this was one of his favorite songs on that album.

He tapped his foot along to the beat, humming along with it. He knew all the words, but he didn't want to wake anyone up with his singing. That would be the most embarrassing thing that could happen.

The music video was awesome, Ed reflected. And not just because two guys made out. Though it was pretty hot. Jeff had seen it once and insisted they hire a cab to reenact the scene. Ed had just barely managed to convince Jeff they didn't need that girl between them.

Ed smiled and closed his eyes. He mouthed the words of the chorus as he fell asleep: 'Envy, envy, envy, envy, envy." The song faded out as Ed fell asleep.

…………

"ENVY!"

"What?" he asked, flipping his recently shortened hair back. The tall girl leaned against his doorway.

"You know what day today is, right?" she asked, slipping her long black hair back.

"The 19th," Envy answered before turning back to his motorcycle magazine.

"Exactly," the girl replied.

"You have a point?" Envy asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Mom, have you seen the Greensleeves Arrangement?" another girl yelled.

"Oh shit! Insanity!" Envy shouted and dived off the bed. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because, you were supposed to remember," Insanity said. She glanced around the messy room. "Your shirt is on your desk. Your tie is hanging from the lampshade. Your pants are in the closet. Your socks are dangling off of the fan. And your shoes are at the front door. And girls don't dig the my-room-looks-like-I-had-wild-sex-with-some-one-who-wasn't-you look."

Envy had been about to thank Insanity but he shut his mouth after her last comment. He grabbed his socks and hastily pulled them on.

"Of course, guys might dig that—"

"Get out!" Envy shouted. Insanity ignored him as he ripped off his shirt and tried to button the crisp white one.

"The button holes are uneven," Insanity said glancing at her watch. It was quarter to seven, and Sloth's recital started at eight. Mom was taking a client that refused to cooperate with her firm there. She was hoping that several hours of beginning violinists butchering various classical pieces would convince him. Insanity wasn't sure it was going to convince him of anything, save Lust's cruelty.

"Shut up!" Envy muttered, undoing the buttons. Insanity smirked. Normally Envy would have been trying to weasel out of going. He'd be complaining about sitting through about one or two hours of bad to mediocre violin playing before it was Sloth's turn. It happened every year since the small group of classical violin teachers, who banded together bi-annually to reserve Laxon Auditorium, decided to follow the rule 'best for last.'

While that rule can be nice, especially for preschool teachers longing to end the cries of 'I got it first!', it can be downright cruel for audiences. Especially since some of the teachers had very young students who were also very ambitious. Sure they looked darling with their 1/4, and in some cases 1/16 violins, but hearing them scratch out Flight Of The Bumblebee (the whole damn thing too) was not cute.

Envy had been trying to explain this to Sloth when she'd cracked him across the shins with a frying pan.

Since then Envy hadn't complained about the recital.

"Found it!" Sloth shouted before yelling " ENVY! Come on!"

……

Baby, C'mon baby, C'mon baby, c'mon.

Ed was dreaming.

How could he tell? Simple. Charlotte's shoe sandal things weren't black. And they weren't skin tight.

Her hair wasn't that long either. She didn't walk towards him like a boy either. Her hips swayed as she took off her guitar and flung it away. It made no sound or if it did Ed didn't notice because he suddenly realized that Charlotte wasn't wearing the pink dress anymore and wasn't a girl either.

The boy sauntered towards Ed, smirking slightly. The tight blank tank he was wearing had slid up to reveal washboard abs. Ed's mouth watered. He eyed the strange get up the guy was wearing. It appeared to be a black skirt with biker shorts underneath. Too many layers, Ed thought.

'Like what you see?' the boy mouthed at Ed. Ed nodded weakly. As the boy drew closer, Ed saw that he was taller than him, a lot taller. The boy knelt before crawling towards Ed. Ed gulped. Even in his dream he was embarrassed. The boy stopped when he was practically on top of Ed.

"Are you embarrassed?" the boy questioned, his voice pleasantly androgynous. Ed blushed fiercely and shook his head; his blond bangs fell down across his face, shielding him from view.

"You sure?" the voice teased and Ed felt the boy practically crawl over him. His lovely long legs felt wonderful against Ed's bare ones. Ed glanced down and suddenly realized he was naked. Completely and utterly naked. He turned red again and tried to bring his knees up to his chest.

Ed realized that that was the wrong thing to do seconds after the action. The boy toppled over onto Ed. Ed turned bright red and tried to stammer out something.

"I-I-I-I can explain," he stuttered his eyes not leaving the green haired boy's head which lay upon his chest. Ed's breathing quickened and he hardened. The other boy shifted in such a way that convinced Ed that his 'friend' was very well acquainted with Ed's not-so-small problem. Seeing as said problem was currently prodding him in the stomach.

The boy looked up and Ed stared into eyes that made his look normal. They were a vivid purple, impossible to pass off as 'very dark blue.'

"Can you really?" the boy murmured. Ed shivered. The boy's voice was suddenly low and he could feel its vibrations. Ed blushed a brilliant shade of red. The boy smirked before dropping his head down to Ed's chest again. Ed tried to move. Had he-

He felt a warm tongue on his chest and the half-formed thought vanished. He let out a groan. He hadn't done anything like this in ages.

"You're a loud one, aren't you," the boy said before biting Ed's nipple. Ed threw his head back and gasped. For all that he'd gone out with Jeff for months, he still hadn't done anything like this with him. Of course, they'd been avoiding getting caught, but the most adventurous thing he'd done with Jeff was jack off in front of him. Granted it had been for an entire day, but it was nothing compared to what this boy was doing with his teeth.

Ed gasped again as the boy moved downwards. He wondered if the boy wanted him to do something. He wasn't sure of what though. His only experience had been with Jeff and a few printed out fan-fics that Winry had.

There'd also been the disturbing erotica book he'd found in her room that day. However, he didn't think that Wet or The Veela Enigma or even Dragon Tamer would help him now. They didn't deal with pathologically innocent characters (aside from Ron).

"Hmm, I guess small guys do have—"

"I'M NOT SMALL ANYWHERE!" Ed yelled and woke up. He panted. That was one weird dream. A pain in his crotch drew his attention to his lower regions.

Ed closed his eyes in shame. Why did this have to happen to him. He glanced around and saw no one. Good. He didn't want to explain anything to anyone right now. He got up and made his way to the bathrooms to take care of his NOT SMALL DAMMIT! problem.

~fin

When Ed referred to the heathens, he meant the Canadians. No offense to any Canadians. I love it there. Your accents are so cool. And I think it's awesome when you guys say 'eh.'

The sex scene was more… well sexy, but I decided that in interfered with the plot. So I shortened it. I assure that Envy will show up more… just wait until they go back to school. Which is January something or other. And it's the 19th.