Sorry about the long wait. My parents were getting a bit irritated that I wasn't doing anything but typing stuff in my room. I used this to spend the better part of three days with my friends. I rock at parent manipulation. Then I made an effort not to write as much because I felt that some of the characters were on the verge of getting OOC and I wasn't too happy with one of the chapters.

But yeah, then I had a week long ski camp, followed by a three-day-four-run running camp. I'm rereading Catcher in the Rye, I've finished The Scarlet Letter, and I need to read or spark note Huck Finn.

So, while I am sorry about the long wait, I'm not at all sorry about the length. You'll see why. The gloating almost cackling review responses from last chapter will all be explained.

And I really wanted to do a double update (2 chapters at once) because it'd be right before school starts and I won't get a chance to write much after that. But it didn't work out. But yeah, don't expect an update until around December. I'm serious. I may be able to update before then, but don't bug me.

This is why nobody's going to be all "Update now! Plz." My schedule is as follows:

AP Calculus (with the teacher who has all homework due the day of the test. I'm a chronic procrastinator.) [Which I ditched within a month, opting to take it at the university where it can't effect my GPA]

Econ (first semester)

AP English

Spanish 3 (with NOT-Applebe)

AP Chem (with the not-super-easy teacher. Which means I'll actually have to study)

Ceramics 2 (with the teacher who has to believe he's teaching AP Ceramics).

Then, I'm doing Cross-Country, which has practice every day after school.

So, I might be able to do an update after this before school really takes off. Don't hold your breath though. And then I might be able to start writing in November when Cross-Country ends. But then there's ski team but we have practices twice a week. Middle of December is really your best bet. Unless my family goes somewhere. But that's unlikely. After December, there's race season, which takes up all of my time. After that, there's track. I'll probably write more during track.

So basically, there's gonna be an update after this, one or two in November, more during Christmas break, then it might pick up around April/May, depending on senioritis and stuff. But June, June is good.

So yeah, I'm going to be a senior. No I don't know what I want to do for a career, yet. Or what college I'm going to go to.

Moreover, it's almost been a year since I started this!!!!!!!

[As you can see from the note, I've been done with this for a long time. However, I have extreme bad luck with betas. I am done with x-c, working on NaNoWriMo, college applications, and not failing AP Chem. I apologize for any weird symbols, my word program does not do .docx and this was received via email from ShindereraShinda, my beta who is not dead, yet. ]

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, AIM, Raddison, Google Earth, and I'm not Terri Clark.

Begin Chapter Ten

"Green tea ice cream?" Wrath asks, staring at his bowl. Dad just smiles and sits down on the couch. Al sits next to Dad and looks expectantly at Wrath. Wrath eyes the brown chair in the corner.

I slide swiftly into the chair and draw my knees up. If Mom was here, she'd yell at me for having my feet on the furniture and then she'd make us eat at the counter. But Mom's not due back until Sunday and Dad doesn't really care about the fate of the ex-sit up chair (which has since been reupholstered).

"Don't worry," Al says, watching Wrath sit down gingerly on the couch. "It's practically normal."

"Normal?!"

"Hey, they had crab," Dad says. We turn and stare at him, horrified. "But I didn't get it. Figured you'd like green tea better."

We nod. Green tea ice cream isn't bad, unless you don't like green tea. It has an interesting taste, like green tea, only wit h cream and sugar. The worst thing about it is that it has a lot of caffeine, only you don't expect it because it's ice cream. It looks pretty much like pistachio ice cream (which Dad hates) and Al's exploited this characteristic several times.

How he managed to switch all of the green tea with all of the pistachio without anyone noticing is beyond me. Of course what's really amazing is what Al did the second time. Somehow, he managed it so that the first few scoops of the ice cream from the green tea container were actually green tea. It was only on the second serving that Dad ran into the pistachio.

After that experience, Dad only buys small amounts of green tea ice cream and when he does buy it in large quantities, he has me taste it for him. I don't mind that job much. It pays very well.

As soon as I finish my ice cream, I head back up to my room. There's not much to do. I've already finished my homework. I could start reading my English book, but I didn't get around to getting one today. And besides, Envy said that Lust was going to read part of it aloud to Wrath and me which sounds a lot better than reading it myself.

For lack of anything better to do I sign onto AIM. Someone, somewhere, should be on.

Stutterbug has signed on.

Russell's on, but before I get the chance to type him a message a window opens up.

oneofthelowmillions: thank god you're here

Stutterbug: Why? What'd you do this time?

oneofthelowmillions: Nothing. But I'm going to. But you'll never guess what I'm talking about.

Stutterbug: you want to ask Sloth Peccato to TWIRPS but since she's probably convinced that you should be locked up, you're worried about your chances.

oneofthelowmillions: damn, your right. How'd you know?

Stutterbug: you're not exactly the epitome of subtle, you know that. Between the staring, the fact that you know she likes owls, the 'sexy Italian woman' comment, it's fairly obvious.

Stutterbug: You're just lucky that Winry hasn't attacked her.

oneofthelowmillions: Oh, right. Forgot about Winry.

Stutterbug: speaking of Winry, I think she's mad at you now.

oneofthelowmillions: bugger.

Stutterbug: hey, she hasn't given you a concussion yet.

oneofthelowmillions: you sound so optimistic.

Stutterbug: It's only a matter of time…

oneofthelowmillions: Back to Sloth, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO ASK HER OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stutterbug: What makes you think I know how?

oneofthelowmillions: girls don't hate you.

Stutterbug: Winry?

oneofthelowmillions: She's a special case. But back to Sloth

Stutterbug: Well, don't stare at her intently. That freaks just about everyone out. Don't drool. Do something cute, not public, but very cute.

Stutterbug: oh and NO VAMPIRES!

oneofthelowmillions: oh. I can't think of anything cute that's not public.

Stutterbug: Neither can I. I'm not a girl. Bite the bullet and ask the freshmen girls at your table about it.

oneofthelowmillions: ur no help (SUFFER!!!!!!!! May ur i's bleed as u reed this. Look i abus teh exlamation makrs !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! abus abus abus!!!!!)

I glare at the screen. Russell normally avoids using chat speak when talking to me on line. I sigh.

Stutterbug: Umm, Russell, random question but how do you feel about un-straight people?

oneofthelowmillions: Fine. I don't really care, I mean all of Anne Rice's vamps are bi and most of the guys end up with other men.

oneofthelowmillions: Why?

Stutterbug: No reason, just asking.

I hope that Russell will just leave it at that and forget the question. It was stupid anyway.

oneofthelowmillions: No you don't ask random serious questions like that. Someone you and I know is gay.

Stutterbug: What makes you think you know the person?

I cross my fingers and hope that Russell suddenly loses interest or something.

oneofthelowmillions: because your getting defensive about it. Which means I'm right.

oneofthelowmillions: Sloth's not gay, is she?

Stutterbug: no. She's not.

oneofthelowmillions: Winry's not lesbian, she had a crush on me.

I snort. That's hardly evidence. Winry's definitely crafty enough to fake an obsession.

oneofthelowmillions: Ling's straight. If he was gay or bi he'd have mocked us for being straight. Al's just Al. So that leaves…

oneofthelowmillions: you're coming out to me aren't you?

Fuck. This would be the day (hour, minute, second…) that Russell is more perceptive than the average rock.

Stutterbug: I guess.

oneofthelowmillions: Cool. So, how'd you know.

Well, I had this dream about Envy and we were naked and he was biting my neck and I liked it. And then, he's just been there, with his nice hair, nice ass, and generally nice self.

oneofthelowmillions: I bet you have a crush on someone.

I scowl at the computer screen. Russell has had two flashes of brilliant perceptiveness within a minute. I cling to the idea that Russell's using up his monthly quota of awareness. He has to run out sooner or later.

Stutterbug: Yes. I do, actually.

oneofthelowmillions: who is it?

I roll my eyes. Russell behaves exactly like a freshman girl sometimes.

oneofthelowmillions: Don't make me gues.

Stutterbug: you'll never guess.

oneofthelowmillions: Me?

Stutterbug: Ew. That'd be narcissism.

oneofthelowmillions: point. Ling?

Stutterbug: No.

oneofthelowmillions: Mustang, Habshi, Derrick, Fred, Daniel, Matt, Jeff, Davis, Shane?

Stutterbug: nope.

oneofthelowmillions: so, are you bi or gay?

Stutterbug: so far, it's just been one person.

oneofthelowmillions: WHO?

Stutterbug: Envy.

oneofthelowmillions : OMG! U like have 2 ask him 2 twirps

Stutterbug: I hate you.

oneofthelowmillions: I'm serious. Ask him to TWIRPS. You can come with Sloth and me. That way it won't be as awkward. You can save me from myself. You can kick me in the shins whenever I do something wrong.

oneofthelowmillions: Please? Do it for me, if not yourself.

I stare at the computer. Can't one person at least act surprised when I come out to them? Why is everyone taking it so well? Not that I want them to take it badly, but right now it feels like I was the last person to know and everyone else was just waiting for me to figure it out.

Stutterbug: Maybe. We'll see.

oneofthelowmillions: give me a more definite answer than that.

Stutterbug: You think I have one? But, yes, IF I ask him, we can try the double date thing. God knows you're going to need someone to keep your foot out of your mouth.

oneofthelowmillions: thanks. But Sloth didn't seem bothered.

Stutterbug: Look, just because she didn't slap you, doesn't mean she wasn't bothered. I think you just stunned her into silence.

I hear Al and Wrath come running up the stairs. They're giggling about something. I sigh and roll my eyes. It's not fair that Al acts more gay than I do, yet he's the straight one.

And I know that life's not fair. I'm actually fine with life not being fair, provided it's unfair in my favor. Not that it ever is or anything.

oneofthelowmillions: oh. I'm screwed aren't I?

Stutterbug: yeah, pretty much.

oneofthelowmillions: help?

Stutterbug: Fine. But only because you'd make a fool of yourself without my help.

oneofthelowmillions: Thanks, I think.

Stutterbug: ask her out to lunch. Impress by having all of your work done by Saturday.

oneofthelowmillions: but I want to do something special

Stutterbug: start small. This is the build up. Besides, what do you actually know about her?

I wince after I hit enter. I have just realized that I don't want to know the extent of Russell's stalker-like tendencies. I have a feeling that the truth will be worse than what I've imagined. Especially because I know that Russell installed Google Earth on his computer.

oneofthelowmillions: she likes owls, she's Italian, she's pretty good at English, she has a temper, she's in winterguard, but doesn't do colorguard. She wears a lot of designer stuff to school and it's not like the semi-designer stuff you could find around here. It's like actual designer-designer stuff. Like from New York.

oneofthelowmillions: she wears expensive jewelry. Most people just think it's really good rhinestone stuff, but it's not. It had too much depth and fire to be plastic or even cubic zirconium.

So far Russell hasn't admitted to anything creepy. This is going better than expected.

Stutterbug: how do you know the difference between rhinestones and real diamonds?

More importantly, why do you care, I think.

oneofthelowmillions: I looked it up.

Stutterbug: Hmmm. You're taking Italian aren't you?

oneofthelowmillions: But she speaks it, fluently.

Stutterbug: So?

oneofthelowmillions: I don't speak it so well. It's my first year.

Stutterbug: Oh, right. Why did you take it again? Wouldn't it have been better to take Spanish 3 or something?

oneofthelowmillions: Sloth doesn't speak Spanish, now does she?

Huh? I can't be reading this right. If that's true then Russell's been crushing on Sloth for a very long time. That's pretty much impossible, considering how unsubtle he is.

Stutterbug: you've liked her that long?

oneofthelowmillions: Err. I've always had a vague idea that it'd be charming if I could speak to Sloth in her own language.

That doesn't sound like Russell at all.

Stutterbug: Really?

oneofthelowmillions: Okay, so last year there was this rumor about having an Italian exchange student this year. I thought that it was going to be a girl, so I signed up for Italian. I was hoping that I could ask her to tutor me or something. Only it turned out to be a boy…

Stutterbug: write her a poem in Italian. And have your professor proofread it or something.

oneofthelowmillions: NO! Italian poetry is different, there's all sorta of connotations that words have and stuff. And even if I managed a poem that didn't inadvertently insult or proposition her, my professor would probably edit it so it'd do that.

I raise my eyebrow. How does Russell manage to piss off all authority figures in his life?

Stutterbug: you're on your own then. Just don't be overly cutesy and make her something in Ceramics. That'd be awful.

oneofthelowmillions: Course not. Now I have to go finish my research and stuff.

Stutterbug: g'night then

oneofthelowmillions: night

oneofthelowmillions has signed off.

I sigh. There's nothing left to do now but go to bed. I briefly entertain the idea of waiting to see if Envy will log on again tonight, but discard it. I don't know if he's a late night person and besides, I have better things to do than stare at the computer screen.

Unbidden, the lines to a country song come to mind. Wash my car in the rain, change my new guitar strings, mow the lawn like I did all yesterday. That's right, I've got better things to do.

But I seriously have better things to do. Like sleep.

In the morning, Dad tells me that Envy's going to be picking me up for school.

"Wha—huh?" I ask, munching on the French toast Al's made.

"He called when you were asleep," Dad said. I nod. "I didn't want to wake you up, so I told him yes."

The doorbell rings.

"In fact that's probably him," Dad says with a smile. I hastily stuff the rest of the toast in my mouth, grab three more pieces, and throw my backpack over my shoulder.

"Thanks Dad," I say through the French toast. He waves me off and I exit through the front door.

"You look lovely," Envy says, standing back to look at me. I look down and realize that I'm wearing my old pair of leather pants. I don't think I've ever worn them to school. They were originally meant for a Halloween costume, but then Russell stopped dressing up. The pants still fit, but they're a lot tighter than t hey used to be. I find that I don't care, after all Envy seems to appreciate the effect.

"Thanks," I say.

The ride to school flashes by, the school flashes by. When we stop at a red light, I open my mouth to ask Envy about this.

"We're ditching," he whispers, leaning in. He's so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. I move slightly to the side so that our mouths are almost touching.

"Awesome," I whisper. His pupils dilate almost instantaneously.

"Good," Envy whispers back. He brushes his lips against mine. The light turns green and I'm sitting in the passenger's seat, fighting the urge to touch my lips. They haven't stopped tingling.

Unfortunately, we make all the lights.

Envy pulls into a spacious parking lot. I look out. It's in front of the upscale Raddison Hotel. I wonder where we're going. Not to the hotel, that's simply too good to be true.

Envy leads the way, and to my surprise, he enters the hotel. I follow. I've been in here once. It was for a dinner party for my dad's company. We stayed in the lounge the whole time (Dad had expressively forbid Al and I to go exploring) so I don't know my way around.

"I have reservations," Envy said to the man at the front desk. He sneered at us. I tangled my hand up in Envy's. "They're under Envy Peccato."

The man's face becomes neutral and he rings up a woman and gives her directions. We follow her to our room, grinning the entire way. Not once does Envy let go of my hand, even when the woman sniffs at it.

The room is enormous. The bed is at least king-sized. I flop down on it and watch with interest as Envy toes off his sneakers. Interest turns into something else when he removes his shirt. My heart swells and I stare wantonly at him. He turns to me and walks lazily towards the bed.

He sits down and fiddles with the button on his jeans.

"Here, let me help you with that," I say and crawl over. My hands are mere centimeters away from his crotch, something that both he and I are aware of. Then suddenly he's kissing me and I forget just where my hands are and drop them.

The effect that has on Envy is intense.

He mewls and closes his eyes. I attack his throat and move so that I straddle him. My hands forsake all thoughts of modesty and pull his unbuttoned jeans down. I lean my hips against him and he whimpers. I look up from Envy's chest and meet his eyes. He's staring at me with so much lust, hunger, and feeling. It's like yesterday, only today, I don't break eye contact.

He likes me. Wrath said so, and even if he hadn't, Envy's body has said it a million times over.

Suddenly, he's moving forward, grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging. I lean back and wriggle out of my shirt. He throws it somewhere and I lay across him. He draws his nails up my back and I arch into the sensation. Our groins touch and we both shudder.

"Why," Envy pants through half-lidded eyes. "Are you still wearing those pants?"

"Because you haven't taken them off yet," I say. Envy tackles me and rolls me across the bed. I laugh as he unbuttons my pants and pulls the zipper down. He tries to jerk the pants off me, but they're stuck fast.

"Here, let me up," I say. I roll off the bed and shimmy out of them. They pool at my ankles and I step out of them. Envy's watching me intently.

"You do know," he whispers, standing behind me. His fingers caress the skin above my boxers and he bites my neck lightly. "That what you did to get out of those pants was the most erotic thing I've seen."

I twist around and push him onto the bed.

"Oh really?" I say, as Envy watches with widen eyes. "Then let me show you more."

Envy's boxers are thrown at the door, mine follow shortly after. I kiss every inch of Envy's body and he licks any place he can reach on mine. Soon we're covered in a mixture of sweat and stickiness.

I smile and look up at the white ceiling. I roll over to whisper something in Envy's ear.

THWACK!

OW!

"Fuck," I groan. What on earth did I hit? I blink my eyes. A wall comes into focus. More importantly, it's my white wall, not the cream of the hotel suite.

Fuck! It was a dream.

Wait. I didn't stutter in my dream. I didn't stutter when I said fuck.

"Fuh—"

The sound is low and hesitant.

"Fffuh-fff-f-ff-f-f-f-fuh—CK."

Fuck. I still stutter.

I roll over onto my stomach and realize not even sudden pain has convinced my body that the dream is over.

Fuck. I loathe cold showers.

"Cold, Cold! Cold! Cold!" I hiss as the cold water hits me. I scowl. The water seems to have no effect on my body. None. I don't even consider the other way of removing my… problem. Not when Al and Wrath are only two doors down.

Still, it's not going away. I turn the warm water on and get up out of the shower. I ignore the wet mess I'm making of the bathroom floor and lock the door. I shiver and return to the now warm shower.

It's not that I've never masturbated before. I've just never done it with a specific person in mind. Or, I realize, a specific gender. I wonder what the difference is going to be like. I stand in the shower's spray for a moment and contemplate possible positions.

I've always stood up before, but this time will be different; I can tell. I chew my lower lip. If I fall, it's going to make a sound. And Al, Dad, and Wrath will all come running. Well, maybe not Dad. My fall isn't going to wake him up.

But I don't want Al or Wrath to see me … doing that, naked. Sitting down is the best option.

I bend the shower head until it clicks into its near vertical position. I sit down and spread my legs. I can't believe I'm going to do this. I can't believe I'm really going to jack off to Envy.

My … um… thingy hardens at the thought of his name. Not even the awkward thoughts of what to call my natural male reaction to certain green haired stimuli can err… de-harden it.

I tentatively touch my … dick, cock, member, hard-on, pick, shaft, manhood, organ, wang—I hate all these stupid words. Sex. My sex. Sex totally works.

I lean back and the shower spray soaks my hair. Envy has magically teleported here, naked. A tingly warm sensation fills my groin. I shiver. I can't believe how my body reacts to the mere thought of Envy. I run my hands slowly up and down my sides, slow and teasing. A thick tightness develops in my chest and my breaths start to come in pants.

As I curl my hand around my self, I imagine that the hand is his. He's leaning against me, his hard—shit! Stupid semantics. His hardness is pressing against my butt. I arch up against it, throwing my head back into the shower's spray.

I draw my short nails up my sex, err shaft. I try to imagine what Envy's longer nails would feel like. I close my eyes and have a vision of him lowering his head to my—I yelp as my body orgasms violently and I bang my head on the facet.

I moan and it has nothing to do with arousal.

The pain to my head takes care of any lingering … excitement that the masturbating didn't remove. I complete my now innocent, but rather chill, shower. I wrap my towel around my hair and drag the floor towel across the floor to mop up the water.

At the sink I brush and floss my teeth. I hear a small knock at the door. Which I open.

Big mistake.

"I was—you're naked," Wrath remarks, blinking rapidly.

"ARGH!" I slam the door in his face. Today is not my morning. I grab my boxers off the counter and slip them on. Feeling considerably braver now that my bits aren't displayed for the world to see, I open the door.

"Err, ss-s-s—sorry about that," I stammer, sliding past Wrath.

"No problem," Wrath says looking at me with unholy amusement in his eyes.

"Right," I mutter and retreat to my room. I refuse to think about what Wrath's last comment means. It's not like he's going to go home and tell Envy, in extreme detail, what my naked, wet body looks like.

End Chapter 10.

Well, I like this one. I got so into it that when I was editing it and I got to the end I was like 'What?! I didn't write anymore.' Then I realized that I had and that this was just the Chapter 1O document.