A/N: eeeeee, lookie I said I'd have an update on this soon! XD I'm so proud of myself for actually doing it. and just to let you know, I've still got plenty of little plot bunnies running about my mind for more drabbles, so there'll be even more updates soon :D
okay, so this particular one was reeaaally fun, and a lot easier than I thought it would be. Though probably only because angst is fun, yay XD. but this was based on theCatandtheCow's elricest fanfic, "Patience is a Virtue." if you haven't yet, GO READ IT. you'll be glad you did, it's such a good story. and so good, in fact, that I was inspired to write this. It just goes into more detail on one of the scenes in the fic. and in Al's POV, so yeah.
and I just wanna throw in a little extra thank you to theCatandtheCow for letting me do this. you're so awesome:D
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, and I don't own the story this was based upon. this was written and posted with permission from the author, theCatandtheCow.
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"X - Affliction"
by: If Wishes Were Blue Skies
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I feel horrible, yet so completely wonderful at the same time. There was probably a point in time where I'd wonder if that was at all possible, or at least to the extreme that I felt it right now. Though obviously now, I couldn't imagine feeling any other way in this situation, except without the guilt-ridden happiness.
I had been fixing Edward up for bed like I had every night for the past week, normal routine (or what could be considered 'normal' anymore), when he suddenly spoke something I couldn't understand. I had leaned down to see if I could make sense of what he'd said, and before I knew it, I was thrust down onto the bed next to him. At first, I'd begun to yell at him for being stupid, demanded to know what he was doing, but then his lips parted once again.
And he said things that… I hadn't even dared to dream of him saying. Words of utmost affection filled the quiet bedroom, but more so my mind and being. I could only stare at him, into those hazy golden optics that were only inches from my own. I could very well smell the alcohol on his breath, but somehow it didn't matter. Not compared to the softness in his voice that almost made me believe he was actually coherent. He kept talking, kept on saying those sweet words that would probably kill me soon, whether it would be because he kept saying them, or if he stopped.
Shivers ran up and down my spine, and I managed out his name in a soft whisper. Somehow, this seemed to surprise him, for he stopped talking. I wanted to tell him to keep going, never stop speaking to me in that soft voice, but instead…
The next thing I could comprehend was his lips on mine. Or maybe it was the other way around. Oh, God, I don't care, either way I had something I never thought I'd have. My eyes were open only long enough to see that his were closed, and for a moment, I imagined that he wasn't drunk, that all of his actions and soft words were really his and how he felt. I let my eyes shut, and I scooted closer to him as his hands came up to either side of my face.
My heart wrenched painfully inside of my chest, and whether it was from the wonderful release I felt from finally letting out all that built up tension, or the horribleness of what I was doing, I couldn't tell. I felt like crying, what I was doing… actually returning his kisses, moving closer to him, putting my hands on his body as well… I think he would hate me if he knew I was doing this. At least he wasn't himself, didn't know what he was doing. While me on the other hand, I knew very well what was going on, and that I should pull away, should have pulled away when contact was first made.
But I'm selfish. And I actually don't feel the tiniest bit of regret. Our bodies became even closer, our touches a little more desperate, and I found myself in my first adult, grown-up kiss, all with my intoxicated older brother, and I couldn't find it in myself to regret it. I felt guilty, I felt horrible, I felt disgusting because of my own feelings, but I didn't regret it. I wanted this for longer than I was about to admit, yearned for it so much more than I'd let on. And so, in his embrace and his mouth open to mine, I still – in my own messed up, selfish mind – felt good.
"Brother…" I whispered between kisses. "I… love you."
He didn't reply. I didn't expect him to. He probably didn't even hear, but… I still felt bad for saying it.