Rivalry
FMA
Envy/Wrath
PG 13 for language
Humor, aggravated Envy, happy Wrath. Happy Wrath is a good thing, and not done
enough. Strange severe humor, not exactly dark despite the violence
Written for yumeno shiro, who knows.
Homunculi were not family people. They weren't even group-people, and depending on who you asked, not even people at all.
Click-clickety-click-clickety-clic-clic-chick.
Envy flicked the barrel chamber on the gun to hear the rattle. He looked out the train window, blank and thoughtful. Dark forests and fields smudged by with the speed of the train and the rain. The car was empty.
Click-clickety-click-clickety-clic-clic-chick.
He'd tried leather straps. He'd tried metal chains. He'd tried bribery and threats and violent coercion. In the end none of it worked, and he'd shoved Wrath out the window, disappointed when the little rat grabbed a ladder two cars down instead of smashing on the floor, but had been too apathetic to do more.
Click-clickety-click-clickety-clic-clic-chick.
Rain lashed against the window, coming inside through the smashed window. Envy's eyes drooped. Even his hair seemed to sulk.
Homunculi, like the Sins and evils they'd been named after, didn't exactly need to sleep or eat, but such bad habits are hard to break for even the vilest of dark demon lords who liked to keep a bed and fluffy pillow handy when torturing others became a bit too much.
Envy could've really have gotten to know a fluffy pillow, right then. Even one with white lace on the edges. Even a pillow with happy chubby animals on it. He could've been friends with a fluffy pillow, right then.
The missions hadn't been exactly trying, but he'd been mortally shot a couple times and regenerating was never pleasant. Greed had liked it, the sick fuck, but Greed was dead now and…
The silence deepened for a few minutes.
After some laboring, Envy managed to shift on the leather seat, creaking and breaking the silence.
It wasn't like he cared. He'd promised he'd killed him. He kept his promises. He always kept his promises.
Envy rolled the barrel chamber again.
Click-clickety-click-clickety-clic-clic-chick.
…and Greed, unsavory and unfaithful as he was, had been an adult. Who could get drunk. And shut up, on demand.
He'd been with Wrath for a little over three days. He'd strangled the brat twice, shot him once, stuffed him full of whatever chemicals or poisons he had on hand and made the mouse spontaneously combust, and mortally stabbed him four times. Envy, in return, had been drowned once, smashed twice, exploded once, and had been tackled, punched, and snuggled enough to make him vomit.
He was going to make Sloth hurt. Oh…How he was going to make Sloth hurt.
He'd come up with nine different possible revenge ideas, and hadn't even started on fine detail. He hadn't picked one. He was considering doing all revenges at once, but wondered if that might be tasteless overkill. He disliked tastelessness. He disliked Wrath. He didn't like Sloth, but she was a handy scapegoat.
Envy's finger twirled the barrel chamber again, and found his hand empty.
No. It wouldn't be overkill. It would be mercy.
"I'm going to knot your arms behind your neck. And break every bone in your body. Three times."
Nothing. Not even a giggle.
"Go away. Go," Envy waved his empty hand listlessly, still staring out. "Go kill someone. Or terrorize people. Just don't stop the train."
Silence.
Something poked his shoulder. Envy fought not to tense. Or scream.
He could kill Wrath. Oh, he could kill Wrath easily in unpleasant ways, make the little rat scream for mercy. Not even Lust or Pride aggravated him this much—not even Greed had been (almost) this bad! Even Gluttony—fat cowardly subhuman Gluttony had the brains not to intentionally piss him off!
Wrath did not have Gluttony's brains. Wrath had no brains at all.
The problem with killing Wrath—the real problem, not what their Maker or Sloth or Lust would scold—was that it took effort. Work. His hair would get messy and his composure wouldn't be icy mocking perfection while he was throttling Wrath's spine. And that was only fun for so long.
Three days. Three fucking days and three damned nights.
Envy's hand slumped at his side, resigned that its toy wasn't coming back. Too tired to go after it, too tired to get indignant, and hoping Wrath would drop dead and stay dead somehow, someway. His shoulder was poked again.
Envy's eyebrow twitched.
Maybe if he ignored it, it would just go away…? Did that actually work? Not on him, true, but then this was Wrath so maybe…
Envy closed his eyes.
Go away. Go away go away and die and stay dead this time. Go away.
Nothing. Blessed silence.
The gun was replaced in his hand.
Envy opened one eye, the one closest to the glass.
Shrieks exploded behind him, the glass exploded beside him, the gun exploded in his hand and arms exploded through the seat on either side of him, grabbing his middle either tickling, jabbing, or groping him. The arms turned to empty brown leather husks when he grabbed them and snapped their wrists, yanking them from the upholstery.
Wrath appeared five seats down from him, bouncing ecstatically on the seat and giggling a high ear-bleeding screech.
"Play! Play play play play--"
Envy held himself down. He glared daggers. Chasing him only encouraged him. Fighting made the little bastard happy.
Had Greed really been worse? Had he? At least Greed had been good in bed, if nothing else.
"—play play play--"
Of course he could always ignore him. And go insane. Or not ignore him, and go insane anyway. The tick in his eyebrow grew worse.
"—play play pla—yeeee!"
Envy gave chase. Why not? Moot point.
Wrath shrieked and bounced wildly over the tops of the rows, darting underneath him when Envy got close and melting through the car sides and roof when Envy started smashing and tearing things apart arbitrarily.
Bits of foam floated down and rolled into corners and something bony and furry landed on Envy's shoulders, yanking backwards on his neck. Envy's fingers, curled into claws, dug into Wrath's skinny shoulders and yanked overhead, completely forgetting about not letting Wrath touch the floor until the blue-white light began fizzing.
Wrath rarely thought about things—he wasn't much of an alchemist, but he did have the innate homunculus ability to cause as much destruction in the minimum amount of time.
When Envy 'woke up', he had a three foot spike poking out of his stomach. It was metal with bits of leather twined inside it. He stood up groggily, feeling crappy and pissy and drained. His head pounded and his throat had been coated with yellow gunk. There was blood on his stomach. And legs. And skirt. He closed his eyes, counted slowly while shifting his skin and clothes so the blood disappeared. He exhaled.
There was a giggling.
Sometimes, you have no choice. It's a painful thought, but sometimes, you really have no choice.
This was something else their Master shouldn't know about.
"Okay! Fine! You win, all right! You win!"
The words didn't cost him as much as he thought they would—it was only Wrath he was surrendering to, and Wrath didn't count. Besides, he was lying.
"Liar liar pants on fire sitting—you're not wearing pants," Wrath confided giggling, mad eyes wide.
Envy stared, deadpanned and speechless. Killing Wrath would be a mercy; unfortunately, he hadn't planned ahead. Next time, next time.
"Ummm," Wrath's head popped up and his face scrunched up. "Promise? Promise-promise?"
"Sure," Envy shrugged—the hairball was incapable of speaking whole sentences. "Promise. You win. Be happy. Shut up."
Wrath ducked and peered at him over his fingers, too-wide eyes blinking owlishly. Envy waited for semi-intelligent discourse, either boasts (which Greed would have done) or suspicion (which the new Lust would've done, the old hag had finally made one right) then rolled his eyes and plopped on a clean seat with a sigh. He propped his chin on his palm and went back to staring out the rain, adopting his old posture effortlessly.
Quiet.
He could hope, right? The little shit thought he'd won, so there was nothing to do anymore, so he'd go away, right? Wasn't so much to ask for, a little solitary time?
Something poked his shoulder.
Envy stopped breathing.
A child's hand, small and soft, covered his shoulder.
Envy closed his eyes. The twitch started again.
He could grab the wrist, pull and twist and when the arm snapped off he could beat the little monster to death with it. But supposing it was Edward's arm he grabbed? The runt wouldn't be able to do alchemy anymore, he'd be powerless, useless. Their Master would be pissed if that happened…
Tempting.
Envy managed not to sigh.
So very, very tempting.
He opened his eyes again and glanced at his reflection in the glass. The hand hadn't left his shoulder. Wrath was crouched on the seat next to him, watching him avidly. Envy blinked.
Wrath resembled an animal more than a human; a small animal with too much eyes and hair and not much else. Greed had been rather animalistic—hadn't bothered justifying his urges or thinking on what it had meant to be human or not human, he'd just followed his name and gone after what he wanted until he got it. Simple. Beautiful. So damn…
He'd been happy, when he heard Greed was dead. He'd been very, very happy. He still was.
Envy looked away, back at the smudged trees and gray lake water under the bridge. "Do what you want, just don't touch--"
Another hand went to his knee. Wrath's little snubbed nose was about three inches from his face. Envy didn't twitch. They'd played this game before too.
Games. The little bastard actually had him playing games.
Like the last time, Wrath didn't say anything; a small miracle. Like the last time, he didn't stop staring obsessively through the tangle of his hair at Envy's face. Like the last time, Envy avoided his gaze, refused to be disturbed, refused to acknowledge anything, and tried really, really hard not to scream.
Like the last time, Envy lost. "What?" he spat tersely.
"You're pretty."
Envy blinked. Since when did Wrath speak intelligently? Speak sense?
Envy turned his head slowly, hoping whatever poison or sedative finally taking effect would keep. Wrath was uncomfortably close; their hair touched. Envy felt his skin crawl; Wrath was in his personal space, they were not social creatures, and Wrath was crawling with more diseases and parasites than a suave metropolitan sewer rat.
Envy sneered, "I know. Stop touching me."
Wrath didn't run away.
Envy stared. Wrath blinked, grinned evilly, and darted to stretch out on Envy's lap. Although 'stretch out' was stretching the truth; his head was in the region of Envy's lap and the rest of him was poised to jump. Envy didn't move. Wrath's hair was touching his stomach and knees; Envy didn't grimace, didn't flinch because who knew when Wrath had washed his hair, if he even knew how, but turned his head to plop it back on his palm, keeping one eye on the rain and the other on Wrath.
By degrees—slow tentative degrees—Wrath relaxed.
He could break his neck easy. It was over his thigh. He could strangle him…
…And be back to square one when the brat revived.
"What do you want?" For a minute, Envy forgot he was talking to Wrath, not Greed. Not Greed. Greed was dead.
Wrath blinked, and let himself settle completely. He weighed almost nothing. His legs hung off the seats edge.
"I'm tired."
Had any of the Lust's pulled shit like this? No. Any of…? Greed had pulled plenty, but at least Greed had been interesting, a surprise. Wrath was young, boring, and dull. But Wrath felt pain and he hurt the kid plenty of times (Envy was mildly proud of his own perseverance) so…was Wrath really that stupid? Or just suicidal like Greed?
"Why aren't you afraid of me?"
"You didn't leave," Wrath said simply, with what Envy considered to be his usual stupidity. Wrath squirmed until the back his head was nestled against Envy's stomach, legs kicking up blue alchemy until the seat and floor rearranged itself so Wrath could curl his legs under him comfortably.
Then for all intents and purposes, Wrath closed his eyes.
He'd be living up to his name if he slaughtered the ankle-biter for resting when he couldn't, for taking advantage of him, his body, when there was no one for Envy to take advantage of. He'd also be ruining whatever chance he had of relaxing.
Envy considered, and overruled himself. He remembered the fluffy pillow. There'd be time to sin later, no harm done.
But…he hadn't, had he? He strangled, shot, strapped, and poisoned the brat, but…it had never crossed his mind to just leave, and not because he wouldn't have done it either, he just…hadn't thought of it. It wasn't an act in his normal repertoire. It wasn't something he did.
Wrath was young, and one of the things it was easy to forget about youth was that it happened to everybody. It had happened to Envy. He'd been the first. And he'd been alone.
If Greed had done this, he would have attacked by now. Whether or not he could've brought Greed down was a different story, but Wrath…didn't count, somehow. Besides, it was all a lie. They weren't family people; weren't group people. They were alone, but he alone had been the first.
Half-curiously, like he didn't care (and he didn't), Envy stroked his fingers over Wrath's hair. Thick stuff, somewhat coarse, but mostly baby-soft. Thankfully, miraculously, not sticky or tangled with crap.
"I didn't leave." Envy considered. "I don't leave."
He wasn't even sure he could abandon things. If he even had a--
He pushed the hair away until he could see Wrath's temple and put a very light lingering kiss there. The boy didn't wake. He smelled like rain and vaguely of wet dog. Not like Greed at all—natural, earthy, reliably there. Somewhat human. Envy sighed, and pressed another kiss Wrath's cheek, then touched the spot with his fingertips to touch Wrath's lips.
Envy stared out thoughtfully for some minutes, then began to look around for something heavy he could bend around Wrath. The next body of water they passed—be it lake or river—he was dropping Wrath into it like a stone, a good old hit-man style disposal.
With love, of course. But whoever said love was a good thing?