It was Friday evening, and Kimblee was looking forward to a night of research and sleep, until,

"Off duty?"

Greed hailed him as he made his way towards the door. It seemed the homunculi came and went from the building as they pleased.

"Why yes." He replied. "And you?"

"Hell no, but we should get drinks anyway." Greed fell into step beside him. "I'll buy."

"You're rather free with your money for someone of your name."

"It's a rare thing. Consider yourself lucky."

"It sounds fun, but…"

"What? Don't go all Envy on me."

"Let me put it this way: the army has a policy of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'. But if I'm seen at a bar with some big buff guy liquoring me up, questions will be asked."

"Two things: your straight-laced army buddies wouldn't be caught dead in the places I go, and if they were, you'd have as much dirt on them as they did on you. Second: you work for us now. No one is going to ask you awkward questions ever again."

He wasn't quite so confident in what he could get away with, but oh, even a finite measure of freedom was so very sweet.

"When you put it that way, I think a celebratory drink is in order."

"What about you?" Greed said.

"What-" Kimblee began.

"Not you. That." Greed pointed to Envy, who, unknown to Kimblee, had been sitting in an alcove ten feet above them as they approached.

"You wanna come with us," Greed continued. "Or would you prefer to skulk around here?"

Envy assumed an exaggerated attitude of contemplation. "Hm, watching the two of you get drunk and fuck each other. Sounds like a delightful way to spend the evening."

"Don't be crazy, Leviathan. We'd never let you watch."

Envy sarcastically traced a tear line from the corner of its eye.

"In all seriousness, though, would you like to join us?" Kimblee said. "We'll keep it appropriate if you'd–"

"Maybe you will." Greed interjected.

"– be more comfortable that way." He finished, as though Greed had not spoken.

Envy frowned. Trading barbs with Greed was so normal it hardly mattered, and yet for some reason, Kimblee trying to be civil was the thing that stung. Envy had almost forgotten that this human had fallen into the vast territory of Greed's 'possessions', and the reminder of that, seeing them together…

Envy stood, turning and vanishing from their sight without another word.

"You're wasting your time." Greed said, resuming their walk towards the exit. "If I've –"

It was quick. There came the low whoosh as something large displaced the air around it, and Kimblee barely had time to register alarm before Greed had been squarely impaled by a hunk of flying sheet-metal.

He might actually have screamed. It was before Ishbal; his nerves were not the steel they would later become. Sound just didn't seem to want to come out of his mouth, however.

Greed fell to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. He turned his head to look up at Kimblee.

"The expression on your face right now is hilarious."

Well.

"That…seemed slightly uncalled for." He turned to look back at the alcove, from where Envy had assumedly thrown the makeshift projectile, but the wiry-haired homunculus was nowhere to be seen.

"I know, right?" Greed seized the metal firmly with both hands, yanking it out of himself with a grunt and a wet sucking noise. "Damn it, I liked this shirt. Fucking jealous little bitch."

"Are you alright?" Greed seemed fine, but it just struck Kimblee as rude not to ask.

"It would take more than that." Greed cleared his throat, spitting out a chunk of blood and something decidedly more solid. "Not traumatized now, are you?"

"…It would take more than that."

Greed chuckled. "Well said. Now let's blow this joint before Envy throws something else at me."

"Wouldn't it be advisable to clean up first?"

"I have spare clothes in my car."

.

And what a car it was.

Located in an inconspicuous-looking garage not far from Laboratory Five, it was a masterpiece of a vehicle. Of ambiguously foreign make, it was angular and predatory in shape as Greed himself, spotless and waxed to a cold metallic sheen from sun roof to chrome hubcaps.

Spot-on for someone like Greed, and so, Kimblee reflected, was the mess inside. As with any true mess, it was impossible to innumerate the objects which comprised the chaos, but it included several alcohol bottles of varying fullness, empty containers of food and discarded wrappers, as well as the spare clothes Greed had mentioned – his, and apparently those of several previous female guests. On the passenger's side seat, specifically, there lay a pair of lacy black panties, ripped on one side as though having been torn off.

"You can have 'em if you like them." Greed commented as Kimblee regarded the abandoned undergarments. "Throw all the crap in the back, otherwise."

Kimblee did so, although his attention was diverted by the sight of Greed changing out of his torn, blood-soaked shirt and into a fresh one. He was hardly modest in attire, leaving little to the imagination at all times, and yet the sight of his bare torso was nonetheless…distracting.

Greed caught him staring and winked. Kimblee tore his eyes away. It wouldn't be just Envy in his thoughts tonight, that much was certain.

There was also, he discovered as he cleared his seat, dried blood on the upholstery. The faint smell of rot lingered underneath it all. Kimblee would have bet money the car had been used to transport a corpse not long ago.

"It's missing the vanity plates with your name." He said as Greed slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

.

The lights were low, and the air was hazy with smoke, lending a dreamlike quality to the place. The smell, however, was something else entirely: smoke and cinders and sweat, years of grit and grime. A record played scratchily in the background, but its music was largely overwhelmed in the din of raucous laughter and periodical outbursts of drunken singing.

The place was packed to bursting, both in the number of patrons and the rowdy energy they exuded. Many people there seemed to know Greed, hailing him in loud, often slurred voices. Several called or motioned for him to join them, including a number of very attractive women, but he waved them off, cutting as straight a line as possible towards the bar.

Overall, it achieved something Kimblee would have before thought impossible: it was so sleazy it was charming. It didn't possess the air of desperate debauchery that had characterized his childhood environment. He got the impression that the people here were present because they chose to be, not because they had to be.

Tending the bar was the most – there was just no other term for it – dykish woman Kimblee had ever seen, and that was saying a lot coming from someone in the military. Were they to arm-wrestle, he would not bet on his chances.

"The usual, Mo." Greed said as he pulled out a stool at the bar.

"It's Monique, ya demon slut." She nonetheless began filling a tankard with whiskey. "And what's on the menu tonight?"

Kimblee realized with flat astonishment that she was referring to him.

"Zolf Kimblee." Greed answered. "The brilliant and soon-to-be-renowned Red Lotus Alchemist."

Monique scowled. "A State Alchemist?"

"He's cool, don't worry."

She made a noncommittal noise. "What'll it be for you then?"

"Um," He glanced at Greed, "I will literally drink whatever you pay for."

"That a promise?" He laughed. "Seriously though, a guy should always have a signature drink. Um…give him a white Drachman."

"It doesn't matter to me," Kimblee said, as Monique put the drink down in front of him, "but people usually react more positively when I say I'm a State Alchemist."

She snorted. "You've been talking to the wrong people, kid. Anyone with two eyes open can see that y'all are just dogs for that hack of a Fürer-President Bradley. And yes, I know you could lock me up for treason, saying that."

"I don't care what you think of him, the man's no friend of mine. I am curious, though, as to why."

She shrugged, beginning to scrub out a tankard. "There's nothing wrong with the guy per se, it's the way that he got into power that I have a problem with. You're young. Just wait; you'll see what I'm talking about. Everyone who's stood against 'im has flat out disappeared off the map, and my bet's that they'll continue to do so. You'll see."

"Our friendly on-staff conspiracy theorist." Greed commented, smirking into his glass.

"Get fucked." She growled. "I know what I'm talking about."

He tried the drink which had been ordered for him. It was very sweet; refined and smooth compared to the bottom-of-the shelf crap he had grown up on. He did not drink frequently, preferring to be the one awake and alert while others lost their inhibitions and motor reflexes. That was the kind of mood Greed put him in; relaxed, willing to relinquish control of the situation.

A few drinks later, Greed was called for by group of unruly automail mechanics, apparently something to do with the results of a bet on a horse race currently being announced on the radio.

"You mind?" Greed asked.

"Go ahead."

With nothing in particular on which to fix his attention, he let gaze wander. There was one particular woman, standing against the far wall, who caught his eye. She was exceptionally beautiful for one thing, although not dressed to flaunt her attributes to the utmost extent. She was watching Greed, as he haggled and tussled with his buddies, very closely. Like a cat staring at a bird through a window – frustrated, hostile, yearning.

In a phrase: like someone who wouldn't mind running Greed through with a blunt object.

His lips curled in a slow smile. Under normal circumstances, he would have left the matter alone, however, liquid courage was flowing through his veins. He stood, walking with that lightness that came before serious inebriation, and made his way over to where she stood, leaning against the wall beside her. He did not look directly at her, but after a moment, he asked,

"Jealous?"

She turned to him in astonishment.

"How the hell did you know that?" The voice was undoubtedly Envy's.

"Masculine intuition."

"Seriously, how?"

"I thought you weren't coming."

"I wasn't, and I'm not. As far as anyone's concerned, I'm not here."

"You should join us. See how long it takes him to guess who you are."

"He would right away. Knows me too well."

"What is it between you, anyway? Whatever your relationship, it doesn't seem exactly 'brotherly'."

"You're bold."

"Drunk."

"It's not something I can explain." Envy sighed. "A piece of advice, from me to you, assuming it's not already too late: don't get too close. You're special now, but soon enough you won't be anything at all."

"Did you 'get too close'?"

"I said it's not that simple."

"See, this is how you're messing up, Invidia. Any real woman wouldn't hesitate to tell me all about it."

"I am a 'real' woman right now. And why do you call me that?"

"It's a synonym for your name."

"I know what it means. I was asking why you call me it."

"Because I can, I suppose." He shrugged. "What's the point of knowing a word, if not to use it?"

"You mentioned to Father that you valued language."

"You were listening?"

"Of course I was listening. And I don't see how you don't hate Amestrians."

"I did, at one point. But I realized a long time ago how futile it was."

"You're awfully amicable, for a murderer."

"I told you, I don't take lives out of rage or hatred. That would belittle me and those I kill."

Envy regarded him with fathomless black eyes.

"What is that look?"

"I've known more humans than you will ever meet. I've known plenty who kill without remorse, but you're different even from them. I don't understand you."

"I'll elaborate if you will."

"No."

"Are you afraid to open up?"

"You think you're gonna goad me into spilling my guts?"

"Apparently not."

"Nice try, but you'll have to be plenty more irritating before you can rival Greed."

"How about this then: you answer my questions, or I tell him that you're here."

He could tell at once that he had struck gold – or maybe a land-mine – with that one. Envy's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. Her hand shot out, and he became uncomfortably aware of how delicate his trachea was, when his throat was held not-so-gently by her inhumanly strong digits.

"You're very lucky," she said, leaning forward, so close they could almost have been kissing, "that you're useful to us. I'd squash you like a bug, otherwise."

Then his neck was his own again, and she was gone, her footsteps receding quickly into the general clamor of the bar.

He rubbed the place where, come morning, he was certain to have five distinct bruises. He felt mortified, more at his own actions than Envy's. What had possessed him to try and force her hand like that?

He made his way back to his bar stool, feeling in need of more alcohol, and found that Greed had returned.

"Envy in a bad mood?" He asked, glancing sidelong at Kimblee.

"You knew?"

"'Course I knew. I've known Envy for way too long not to. What'd you do to rile it up?"

"Asked the wrong questions, I suppose."

"Yeah, really. And what questions were those?"

"Ones about you."

"Holy crap, you do have gigantic balls."

"I am here."

"True. Guess you wouldn't have come this far if you didn't have quite a set of stones. But seriously, our family dynamic is pretty much layer upon layer of crap. You just don't want to go there."

"What if I do?"

"You'll have to ask someone else. Sorry, but I have to live with it. Not gonna make it worse by talking about it."

"Think that's how Envy sees it?"

"Oh, who the hell knows?"

"Can you tell me about…him, her, it? Do you mind sharing that much?"

Greed sighed, but it was not ill-natured. "It's not my favorite story to tell, but I can see your little crush won't let you leave it alone."

He took a deep drink of whiskey, licked his lips, and sat in silence for a moment, contemplating.

"You know, I've never actually told this to anyone." He said at length. "Not that it's a secret, it's just that everyone either knows or doesn't know Envy. I guess I should start when it was born. Ugliest. Fucking. Thing. Imaginable. Even Father was freaked out, and he was the one it came from."

"I've seen Envy's true form."

"It was worst than that, if you can imagine. As far as I was concerned, the question wasn't do we kill it, but how do we kill it? But then it started manipulating its form and…well, it went from there."

Greed took another swig.

"Anyway, that's the core of Envy's personality. Regardless of what you see now, each face it takes, Envy is still ugly on the inside, and it knows it. And I'm not saying that to be mean, it's the truth."

"That's very sad."

"You'd be considerably less sympathetic if you'd had to deal with its goddamn sensitive ego for years. You see, the thing is, Envy never got over that. For all that it can look however it wants now; it still behaves as though it's an ugly thing, all bitter and spiteful."

Kimblee remembered the way Envy had looked at Greed, that unnerving mixture of resentment and longing…. There was something of Greed that Envy wanted, or had wanted at one point in time. Maybe it wasn't romantic love, but it seemed something very similar in nature.

Did you get too close?

No. Envy had never been able to get close, both out of Greed's rejection and its own wounded vanity. Where Greed was concerned, Envy was like a spurned lover, but less. A spurned un-lover.

And yet…

"But you're still interested in having a threesome with me and Envy?"

"Heh, I was wondering when you'd get to that. The truth is, if Envy weren't such a frigid bitch, I wouldn't find it so annoying. But Envy never will, so I'll never have to. Which is why you should forget about the behemoth and just spend the night with me."

Greed was slick, Kimblee would give him that much. While the space between two people could so often be an incalculable distance, Greed managed to cross it as though it did not exist at all. As though there had never been any space between their two bodies, and never should. Greed's mouth was hot and wet on his neck, sharp teeth grazed his skin and, oh, but that did excite him. He shivered involuntarily, and Greed laughed huskily against his neck.

"Envy advised me not to get too close."

"Exactly what a jealous little bug would say."

Greed leaned up, presumably to kiss him, but Kimblee turned away, knowing that if he didn't at this point, he wouldn't, ever.

"Sorry. I'm not ready to give up just yet."

Greed pulled away, looking put-out and rather puzzled.

"What do you want, anyway? Even if you succeed, do you think Envy will make you happy?"

"Would you?" There was just something funny about it; Greed, who was all about materialism in every form, talking about happiness.

Greed shrugged. "I'd get you off. More than I can say of my asexual sibling."

"I'm not saying no. I'm just saying not yet." He stood, donning his hat and turning towards the exit.

"Where are you going?"

"To try and win, of course."

.

(A/N: The bar scene, particularly Greed being called 'demon slut' is heavily inspired by gelfling's "Shards". It is an awesome story, you should check it out =). Other things: White Drachman = White Russian, since Drachma is apparently to Russia what Xing is to China. At first I couldn't picture Greed with a car, but then I realized it would be foolish to picture him without one. I did the best I could in making his ride tricked out and yet not anachronistic. I imagine it as whatever the FMA version of a Ferrari would be. Thanks for reading!)