Title: Boiling Point
Rating: M, for mature situations, yaoi, implied sex, and a pairing that may make people hurl. (For weird reasons.)
Summary: Everyone has a boiling point. Ed's tolerance for stupid thing is small, so he snaps more often than he should. But Al can tolerate just about anything. And when strange things begin to happen to his body and he starts craving for things that would disgust anyone, he decides that this once, it's okay to blame Edward.
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of the characters. I made this Fanfic purely out of entertainment and I did not make any sort of profit off of this.
Author's Notes: Short chapter. I know, I know. Something's up with my brain. It hates me. Argh, I need to find my rhythm. So please bear with me, while I actually think about the next chapter.
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Chapter Seven
Alphonse ripped the blanket off his bed, before collapsing on top of it and shielding his face with it. The tears were flowing and he didn't want to show Ed how much he really hurt him. When the blanket brushed against his cheek, he couldn't help but wince. Was it a deep cut? Maybe he should have checked out…
No. He was not going to get help on this. He could perfectly handle this on his own. After all, why would he want to burden Ed with his injury? Ha.
Al lifted his hand and lightly touched his cheek. It felt deep, but the pain didn't really come from that. It came from the fact that Ed actually hit him. Over what? A jacket? Sure, Al thought, it was from Teacher, but really. Ed didn't let him explain.
The only thing that made the jacket special was the fact that it had the same design Teacher had tattooed on her chest…
He blinked. Edward only cared about the flamel symbol. Maybe if… Alphonse smiled sadistically as a way to repay Ed formed in his mind.
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Edward looked at his jacket. Fixing it was a simple matter, but alchemy always left traces of the transmutation. It would look "normal" to say the least, but it would never look like it used to.
Breathing in deeply, he clapped his hands and reached for his jacket. But he let his hand drop, unwilling to recreate his jacket. Not this way, at least. Looking at the scissors and thread left on the floor, he silently wished he wasn't so hotheaded.
Or violent.
Sighing, he folded what he could of his jacket and stood. This time, he was going to talk to Al. His wasn't going to apologize, because he hadn't done anything wrong (except for hitting sweet, sweet Alphonse). No. He was just going to go in, and set him straight. The thing with Winry was a mistake. Making his way to the door, he listened closely for what may be sobs, and such. Instead, he heard faint whimpering.
He jiggled the doorknob, to see if it was locked. It was.
"Al?" Edward gripped his jacket with his automail hand. "I need to talk to you…"
"Go away," was the response he got. A strangled, whimpering response. "I don't want to talk-" Did he just grunt? "-right now."
Ed frowned. He leaned in a bit more onto the door. "I'm not giving you a choice," he said in his sternest tone. "We have to talk."
He could hear Al's whimper-ish. "Oh, now we have to talk. Now's the best time to talk- Ah shit," Ed could hear Alphonse gasp and sob?
"Al, what are you doing in there?" Edward never liked having to hear Al curse. And when he did, it was either when he was scared, or really hurt.
There was a moment of silence. "What am I doing?" Al's voice was soft. "I'm repaying my debt, Brother." He gave a out a soft choked cry. "An arm for an arm…" Ed's eyes widened. "A flamel symbol for a flamel symbol…"
"Al, open the door this instant." Ed slammed his automail hand on the door. When he heard Al cry out, -"Aw, shit, it hurts!"- he clapped his hands together, dropping his jacket, and slammed them onto the door.
Barging into Al's room, Ed panicked as he saw his little brother on his bed, digging a small knife into his shoulder, and bleeding onto the white sheets beneath him.
"What are you doing!?" Ed yelled, pulling the knife away from his little brother. Worry overrode him. What had he done? Dear god, Al was injuring himself? Taking a closer look at the wound, he swallowed hard at the sight. Al was carving the flamel symbol into his right shoulder.
Al blinked, tears of pain flowing down his cheeks. "I'm repaying you, Brother," he said calmly, placing his left hand on this wound. "Everything I owe you. The flamel symbol, my arm…"
"You cut yourself!" Ed yelled. "You… you…" He sucked his breath in. "God, Al. If this is about Winry..." He stood up and ran from his little brother, later returning with a first aid kit. As he began pulling out the roller bandage, Al had managed to reach for the knife, but not before having it slapped away from him. "Goddamit Al, don't do that!"
"But how am I going to repay you, Brother? My arm for your arm, equivalent exchange." Al leaned back, letting his brother bandage him up. He didn't comment on how Edwards was now freely crying, murmuring sorry's again. "A flamel symbol for the one on your jacket." He felt that same familiar blush when Ed leaned his head into his neck. Without thinking, really, he lifted his older brother's face to his, and whispered, "A sin for a sin," before pressing his lips onto Ed's.
TBC. In CH 8
