Evading the Thule Society had been easier than Al and Ed would have thought. The Nazis had scrambled after the fallout of the Beer-Hall Putsch resulted in most of their leaders getting arrested, and outside of Bavaria they weren't much of a problem at all.
Establishing themselves in Berlin - finding jobs where their expertise fit, where they wouldn't ask questions about Ed and Al's lack of background - that had been the hard part.
But Berlin wasn't a bad city for that. It was a city full of vagabonds, full of people from all corners of Europe and the Earth, eking out places for themselves in its more colorful corners. Alphonse Elric had a feeling that even if Ed and he were more upfront about their being from another world, that theirs wouldn't be the strangest story a lot of their acquaintances had heard.
Especially in Schöneberg.
Their neighborhood, especially where they lived, near Nollendorfplatz, was the center of Berlin's gay neighborhood. It was another plus to moving north; Berlin was much more tolerant of... differences than they were in the south. This world didn't accept homosexuality quite as well as they did in Amestris - where, while it was still uncommon, and frowned-upon by some circles, it was generally not a huge deal. But in certain corners of Berlin, people who preferred their own gender, or who weren't particularly choosy about gender at all, could open up and be themselves.
People like Al's older brother.
Al had suspected for a long time that Ed wasn't particularly interested in women. He remembered when they had walked in on Psiren in Aquorya, when she was changing into her costume and exposed her array... right over her breasts. Al had still been a suit of armor, but even in that state, he couldn't help but feel a bit flustered by such a fantastic display of such exquisitely-shaped breasts. But all Ed seemed to care about was that it revealed her secret identity. He didn't seem frazzled by her bust at all.
It wouldn't have been much, though, if Al hadn't noticed other things. As the famed People's Alchemist, Ed always had a long line of admirers, in every town they visited, in spite of his short stature. From the exotic looks that they'd both inherited from their father - literally, from another era - to the brothers' prodigious talent and intelligence and physical agility, it made sense. But of course, since Al was a suit of armor at the time, all the admiration of that kind went to his older brother.
And, of course, most of them were women. From their childhood friend Winry - who they'd fought over once upon a time, before either of them were old enough to know which way they'd end up swinging - to the pink-and-brown-haired young mother in Lior, Rose. Heck, even Rose's double, the Roma girl, Noa, seemed to be fixated on Ed. And while Ed was mostly oblivious to the attentions he got from all quarters, with the more forceful girls - and it was always the girls who pushed themselves on Ed - he seemed very out-of-sorts. Very uncomfortable. Even when they were the sort of girls that Al knew he would die to have look at him that way.
Well, okay, Ed was never that unsettled by Winry, even in her more obvious moments (which she thought no one picked up on, but Al did, and he was sure Granny Pinako, at least, did too). But Winry was Winry. They'd grown up around her; she was like a sister to them, and there was no way anything with her could be weird.
Al had wondered for a long time if Ed just wasn't interested in sex much at all. But then, when Al crossed the Gate with him, it was like he was a new person in that arena. Especially after they'd moved to the north. Al realized it: Ed had been so focused on finding the Stone before to think about much else. But now that those days were over, he could live for himself, for pleasure, and not solely for his brother.
And in Nollendorfplatz, in the right bars, with the right clientele, Ed could be especially open about his desires. His preferences.
Which were clearly, exclusively, for men. But not just for men. For certain types of men.
Al began to notice more patterns and it all started to make sense.
It was a cold December night, where they were once again at Der Regenbogen, which had fast become Ed's favorite watering hole in Nollendorfplatz. They served a particular kind of beer he liked, or something.
He was flirting with yet another man. Another war veteran, regaling him with tales of Verdun and Amiens. That wasn't anything special though; most of the men they met had served in the trenches of the Great War, it seemed. It had killed half a generation, and left the rest of them wounded from it, whether physically or in less tangible ways.
He was older - by at least five, if not more like ten, years. Just like the last one, and the one before. But again, not a big deal - it seemed like age differences were common among the men who dated other men. Al figured it had to do with slim pickings. Or just a general distaste for social convention. Some seemed to prefer it; Al certainly got hit on, at these bars, more by older men than men closer to his own age. Not like it mattered; Al didn't swing that way, so he politely declined while he sipped his beer and kept an eye on his brother.
It was the preference for darker hair that Al didn't quite understand. Maybe it was because Ed was blond, and people were just naturally attracted to their physical opposite?
And then, the answer walked through the door, shivering from the cold and the snow as he removed his hat. And everything suddenly clicked into place and Al didn't know how he'd been so oblivious.
Ed saw him, he couldn't take his eyes off of him.
Not that Al couldn't help but stare, either. He tended to do that, when they found another familiar face.
His name was Robert Feuermann.
The man wasn't an exact clone; his eyes were a brighter blue, his hair was more dark brown than black. But it was in enough ways - the pale skin, the deftness at hiding his emotions, and of course, that smirk - that it made it easier for Al to put the pieces together, and see that they were always leading up to this moment.
Ed was dating men who reminded him of Colonel Mustang.
And as soon as he got to talking to and getting to know Mustang's alter, it happened very, very fast. It was almost like they fell into each other's arms. One day they were just talking and laughing, and sharing each other's personal histories - though Al wasn't listening close enough to hear if his brother revealed the full truth of their origins, the lucky thing about Ed moving from partner to partner was that he didn't usually have to do that - and the next day? The next day they were holding hands, shamelessly swapping kisses, at least while they were in Der Regenbogen and the other bars that Ed and Robert liked to frequent in Nollendorfplatz.
(In this world, in this country, homosexuality was against the law. So Ed had to be discreet about his desires outside of certain corners. It was silly, Al thought, but there was little they could do to unwrite centuries of prejudice, as appeared to be the case here.)
Herr Feuermann was like Mustang in various aspects of personality, but not much in the way of interests, it seemed. He wasn't military, or a chemist or physicist (which seemed to be this world's closest approximation to alchemy), or a politician, or really anything like what the Colonel had done with his life.
Maestro Feuermann was an artist - a composer, in fact. He wrote operas and symphonies. He conducted a small orchestra in Berlin, though when his works were performed they were at larger, more significant venues. He told Ed stories about his music, and his life as a musician. Al was pretty sure that Ed knew next to nothing about classical music, but he always listened attentively to whatever Robert had to say.
Apparently the world of classical music in 1920s Europe was a surprisingly complicated and controversial one.
"I studied with Arnold Schoenberg for a time," Feuermann told them, "I think we all fell under the spell of twelve-tone music at some point. But while it's very expressive for some things," he continued, "it's not for what I want to express. For that I had to rely on more traditional harmonies, I had to be modernist in my own, distinct ways. And so that's why I stopped studying with him."
"What is twelve-tone music?" Ed has asked, eyes wide with curiosity. Again, Al wondered where this sudden curiosity for music came from, because Ed had had none of it before they met Robert. Al was certain his brother couldn't read music and had never learned any instruments, even in the years they'd been apart on opposite sides of the Gate. Noa had been a musician, but Ed had seemed content to stomp his feet to her music and never ask any questions further.
"It means all the twelve tones of the scale are of equal importance. There is none of the hierarchy of traditional tonality." Did Ed even know what Robert's terminology meant? He acted like he did. He acted like he was hanging on every word.
Is this what love did to someone?
No, no, far too early for that. Not with Ed.
At least, not with this person. But Al was pretty sure that part of the reason that Ed was so attentive to Robert Feuermann was that if he looked hard enough, he could pretend he was staring at a similar, but ultimately different face.
The face of the man he really loved.
Now that Al could see it, now that it was all clearly laid out in front of him, he wished that Ed could admit it - to himself, to Al, to anyone. Because the realization made Al pretty sad.
It wasn't just that Ed would never see Mustang again. But it was the fallout of his feelings for the other people involved.
He'd seen Ed break other men's hearts before, probably for the same reason. They just weren't Roy Mustang. But this was different.
Because Al was pretty sure that Robert Feuermann really did love his brother.
When he wasn't talking about his background, or his chosen career, all Robert Feuermann wanted to do was dote on Ed. He kissed him, caressed him, so lovingly... it wasn't long before Robert was spending nights over at Ed and Al's apartment, and though Al obviously wasn't (and wasn't interested in) looking in on their intimate moments, he could predict from the eyes that Robert gave his brother what was going on. And he didn't just mean the sex. Robert looked at Ed like he could lose himself in his eyes, held him like he never wanted to let go. He looked like he was staking all of his heart on Ed being with him, always.
"I know you know," Robert had said once to Al, when Ed was going to get more drinks, or using the bathroom, or something of the like during a long night at the bar. "I'm a little scared, I have to say. I've been burned before by love... not a lot of people in this country have much respect for a half-Chinese Jew like me, even when I'm a respected composer. Even other..." he waved his hand in a circle, acknowledging the room. "Men like us. Prejudice dies hard, you have to understand."
Al nodded along, deciding to hear Herr Feuermann out before he aired his thoughts.
"But he is so beautiful, and he ignites something in me I've never felt with another person. I feel so complete in his arms. He is so beautiful, I almost feel like I was made to write music so I could write it about him, for him... I want to write operas dedicated to his smile. No one would want to see them, they would be so boring and self-indulgent, so I won't." He chuckled. "But that's how your brother makes me feel. I feel like this time has to be the one that works out, you know?"
Al gave a small, sad smile. "I hope it does. I think it could," he said, slowly, not quite believing his words. "With time. But you have to understand. Where we lived before, there was someone Ed left behind. It's going to take a long time to get over him."
Robert's eyes drooped. "Oh. I see."
Al suddenly felt bad. "But it's okay! He's never going to see him again. And you're a lot like him, actually." He gave the composer a grin. "So I think it could work. Certainly, he seems to be more dedicated to you than his past boyfriends."
Robert grinned and nodded. "Okay. I hope you're right, Alphonse," he said. "Because I don't know if I can take it if another man breaks my heart, especially if that man was him."
Al smiled at him reassuringly, and would have made a comment to the same effect if Ed hadn't decided to return just then, slinking his arm around Robert and leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. It started firm and closed-mouth, but very quickly evolved into something more passionate, as per usual.
Which was Al's cue to look away.