Author's Notes: Here we are, folks... Fit the Last. There were about a dozen scenes left on the cutting room floor, but I do what I can, and I hope it turned out alright, in the end.

Thanks very much for everyone who left comments and in advance to anyone who will in the future. And to Silvertails: there's an underscore between the words Faulty and Wish, but deletes it when I upload documents. Hope you like- they really are fantastic fics. :)

Aftermath- Epilogue
Five months later.

It was snowing outside, the sky a heavy, stormy grey that made the tiny flakes settling to the ground even whiter in comparison. It was the sort of weather that made Ed ache- a deep, nagging pain that threaded its way through every one of many old wounds, kept partially at bay only by steady, constant warmth.

Which was difficult to achieve, the boy reflected for what was far from the first time, considering that the gas had been shut off shortly after the electricity and plumbing, taking the heat when it went.

Not that it had proved any sort of surprise- after all, neither of them had held a job for the better part of two years, and most of what Alphonse had earned since they returned to Central had gone to pay for medical expenses. But knowing that it would come didn't stop the twinge of guilt every time Al went outside to haul in buckets of snow- dumped into the bathtub and heated with alchemy, it had been substituting for the water that the brothers couldn't pay for any longer.

It had been Ed, after all, who'd insisted they didn't need help from the Rockbells or that bastard Mustang, Ed whose pride had led to the frugal, independent life that they'd been managing. And that would change, perhaps, if ever it became a question of them going hungry- because his little brother still hovered protectively at mealtimes, still worried over the weight that hadn't yet been fully regained, and Ed suspected very much that there was a point at which Alphonse would simply put his foot down.

But they'd been getting along well enough, so far, the worst of their problems the bitter cold that had settled in with the snow. And Alphonse took care to keep the fire built up high so that he didn't ache too deeply, had even gone so far as to carry their blankets downstairs and deposit them in a pile in the center of the living room. Some nights, he would haul them back up to the bed before returning to help Ed make his awkward way to the second story- and some nights he'd declare it too cold for the two of them to leave the heat of the little fireplace.

It was one of the latter tonight, the chill deep enough that Ed hadn't even protested an arrangement that he knew was primarily to make him comfortable. And when Al drifted in from the kitchen, hands clasped around a pair of mugs that still steamed gently, he made room for the younger boy eagerly, grateful for the warmth.

"It's tea," Al warned him as the smaller boy lifted the cup one-handed to take a sip. "We're out of hot chocolate."

But whatever it was, it was warm, and Ed's first swallow was a huge one- a decision he regretted quite thoroughly a moment later.

By sheer force of will, the boy choked it down, regarded his brother with an expression that combined disgust and accusation. "You said it was tea!"

"It is," Al answered, drawing the covers up around them. "A different kind than usual, is all." And he took the first sip himself, offered a smile as though to prove that it wasn't utterly repulsive.

For several seconds, golden eyes watched the younger boy's face intently, outrage morphing into disbelief when the same disgust he'd experienced didn't become evident. "But it's bitter!"

"Well," Alphonse admitted, slightly apologetic, "We're out of sugar." The unspoken words hung between them: "And we can't afford more."

That spike of guilt intruded again, prompted Ed into taking another sip. And when it had settled into his stomach, distasteful as before but still blissfully almost-hot, he forced down a grimace. "I guess it's not so bad."

"Liar," his brother observed quietly- but there was fondness behind the accusation, and when he turned to look, the other boy's eyes were soft with affection.

"Yeah, well." The grin that worked its way onto his face was a mix of pleased and embarrassed. "It's drinkable." And he lifted the mug once more, golden eyes fixed on his brother's face as he took another sip.

He'd scarcely taken the cup from his lips before Alphonse was leaning in for a kiss- and the boy had time to consider, just for a split-second, that the tea was going to make a terrible mess.

He was right, of course. As soon as Ed opened his mouth for the tongue that slid teasingly along his lower lip, a drop of the liquid escaped to trickle down the edge of his chin. And when Al kissed him in earnest, slow and thorough and tasting as horribly bitter as the drink shared between then, it was only natural to try and pull the younger boy in closer.

But Ed's hand was closed around a thick white mug, and all it took was for him to tip it just a little too far.

"Brother!" Alphonse yelped, jerking back as the hot liquid scalded him.

"Fuck!" And abruptly, the cup was discarded on the floor just beyond the comfortable nest of blankets, ignored so that Ed's single hand could be put to use in attempting to sop up the spilled tea. "I hate this," he muttered viciously, reminded abruptly of the dragging frustration that'd been plaguing him for months. "As soon as my new automail's installed, I swear I'll-"

"Brother," Al interrupted, and the tone was mildly reproving. He batted Ed's hand away almost absently before setting to work the buttons on his now-drenched shirt free of their holes. "You know you need to be patient. Winry can't get to work on you until after you've recovered from the surgery."

"Yeah?" Ed raised his chin, defiant, and wiped absently at the little trail of tea that had slipped by during the kiss. "Well, I still say I could've managed sooner- four months is a long fucking time to be a cripple."

The shirt fell open to reveal a pale chest, and slender fingers kept moving. "You were hurt, brother." And that tone was serious now, bronze eyes intent in a way that made Ed feel both chastised and cherished by the same gaze. "And if the doctors say that you need four months- four years- four decades- before you're healed enough under the ports for new automail, then you're going to wait."

But the bite behind the words was lost on Edward as his brother's shirt came open the rest of the way, as pale hands bundled the fabric up and put it to one side. Golden eyes drifted quite unabashedly to the smooth expanse of skin that had been revealed, frustration at the spill effectively forgotten.

"Brother!" Al scolded. "Have you even been listening to me?"

"Maybe," the smaller boy offered, noncommittal. His gaze flickered up to his brother's face, and a grin not even slightly apologetic twitched at the corners of his lips. "Can I help it if you're distracting?"

And that earned him a blush, a warm flush of dusky rose that worked its way across the pale skin of the younger boy's face. "It was wet," Al protested, "I wasn't about to keep it on."

"Am I complaining?" And he leaned in for another kiss- had to wrap one arm around his brother's neck to keep upright without a second limb to support him, had to throw his weight against Alphonse just so that he wasn't off-balance. But when bare arms settled about his waist to hold him in closer, Ed found that he really didn't mind.

It was the lack of air that forced them apart a moment later, left them panting softly, forehead to forehead, eyes burning.

"Brother," Al began, softly- but he didn't get further than that, because the smaller boy was kissing him again, heat and urgency poured into the contact in equal measures. Bare seconds more, and Ed felt whatever protest there had been fade away as fingers plucked at the hem of his shirt, slipped up and under the fabric, leaving trails of fire where they ghosted along his flesh.

He shivered under the touch in spite of himself, pressed in closer when gentle fingertips found his spine. It was difficult to think clearly beyond the searing intensity of the kiss, difficult to focus on much of anything but the want that grew, coiling, inside him- but when they broke apart again, he managed to put one thought, at least, in words: "Less clothes," he insisted, "Now."

Alphonse laughed quietly in response, and the smaller boy felt his face burn under the smile that accompanied it, amused and fond and wanting. "Anything you say, brother."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed grumbled, pushing himself away from the younger boy's chest with his sole arm, "Be smug about it." A moment later, he'd grasped the hem of his shirt and was pulling upward, squirming to aid the process, half dreading the cold that was sure to set in with the loss of clothing. It was awkward, but he'd had practice, and a moment later he was bare from the waist up, shirt sailing through the air to land in a careless heap someplace halfway across the room.

But by the time he'd accomplished that much, Al was setting his pants out by the tea-damp shirt- and before the smaller boy could get started on his own, before he could even think that the chill of the room wasn't so bad with the fire burning brightly nearby and the heat of his brother's body, Alphonse had leaned in once more.

The younger boy began at the junction of throat and jaw, lips working a line of slow, wet heat down his neck and to the collarbone. Ed shuddered under the attention, letting his head fall back as his brother used the hand still at the small of his back to lower him to the blankets.

And when he felt the weight of Al's body settle over him, Ed lifted his hips into the contact eagerly.

He wouldn't think until later about what, precisely, this ought to mean- wouldn't consider until he woke the next morning, warm and sleepy, that it had been the first time a part of his mind hadn't recoiled in terror at being pinned, despite the fact that it was only under the comfortable warmth of Al's body.

At the moment, Ed was lost in the feel of his brother's touch, mind too caught up in pleasure for nightmares of the past to intrude- and he would be grateful for that, too, the next morning.

Additional Author's Notes: Please be aware that this scene has been edited to comply with rating policy. To read this chapter in its entirely, please visit Livejournal and search for username Asidian; you will be able to find the epilogue of Aftermath there in all its NC-17 glory.

Or, carry on. :)

Everything was still save the crackle of the fire and the harsh, jagged sound of heavy breathing.

"Fuck, Al," he managed, after a minute.

His brother was crawling up to lay beside him, then, pressing skin to skin and reaching out to pull him closer. And for a time, there was nothing more complex than the simple joy that came from feeling the slowing beat of Alphonse's heart.

By the time the younger boy spoke, he was drifting on the edge the edge of sleep- wasn't sure, in fact, whether the quiet words were from waking or a dream. But Ed mumbled a response anyway, a drowsy "Love you, too" that may or may not have been coherent enough to be understood.

And when he felt Al nuzzle in to press a kiss to the place where his shoulder met steel, the boy suspected that it didn't matter.

After all, his brother already knew.

owari--