For a long time, Envy lay where Pride left it, staring at the darkness until it didn't see it anymore.

This was as close to besting its eldest brother as Envy had ever come. It hadn't cost Pride anything, but he had certainly been wrong. He had failed. And Envy had caught him at the failure, had called him out on it. And he had even left Envy mostly intact.

The victory was not as sweet as it should have been. Because Pride's actions had had unforeseen consequences. No, even more than that: his plan had outright backfired.

Envy had never willingly touched another creature in a sexual way. It had been compelled to do so in the past, when it had sometimes spent years at a time in deep cover. If having sex with someone – a spouse, for instance – was the difference between a successful mission and being found out, what choice was there? Each incident had been unspeakably loathsome, oil to the fire of Envy's hatred towards humans. Having been touched by them, invaded by them…

Left to itself, Envy would never have allowed Kimblee to lay a hand on it. Okay, that hug in the alley had been nice, but that was different. Chaste. Parents could hug their children – or a sister her brother, as in the case of Lust and Envy. But kissing? With tongue? Crawling into his bed, sitting on his lap and – no, no, Envy would never have done any of that under normal circumstances.

Envy would never have done it, and therefore it would never have had to face the realization that it had…liked it. It hadn't been turned on exactly; there were no switches to turn on, so to speak. Yet the appeal was undeniable. The memory of being in his arms, the feeling of his mouth on its neck…Envy laid its hand over the spot, as if to hold the sensation down and trap it there.

At first, Envy had been too focused on the idea of revenge to pay attention to its own feelings, and then Envy had been too confused to feel much of anything else. Kimblee had been sincere when he should have been deceitful, forgiving when he should have been angry, and…kind, when Envy barely had any concept of the idea. Its world had been broken apart and reordered as a place where it could actually…actually have a friend, and the ensuing disorientation was a force to be reckoned with.

It was only in the aftermath that Envy was left with a buoyant sense of satisfaction at what had happened between them, sweeter even than having born witness to Pride's utter failure in preventing this very situation. Yes…having fooled around…with a human…was somehow better having one-upped Pride.

What the hell was wrong with Envy? And what was it going to do now? It would figure that this revelation came not hours after it had insisted, with blunt force and on the threat of violence, that it had no interest in any erotic activity. What a miserable fool. Envy could almost hear Greed laughing, and a coil of snake-like doubt uncoiled inside. What if Kimblee lost patience with its inconsistency? There had never been much margin for error in Envy's life. Mistakes had consequences; never forgotten, let alone forgiven. It was daunting, the thought of admitting to him that it had been wrong. What if he thought less of Envy for it?

And, even if he forgave the mistake, what then? Happily ever after? It didn't seem likely somehow. So many things could go wrong.

Oh Pride, why couldn't you have just left it alone?

If nothing else, there was a vast difference between a bit of groping and actually….Envy's stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought, at the memory. How Envy hated it, being pinned down awkwardly and pierced in such a way. It hurt, for one thing, but the pain wasn't the problem. Pain went away. The shame and revulsion never did. Envy felt it, even now. They would grunt, and sweat their human reek all over, and sometimes whisper disgusting things in 'her' ear. And then finish, and that was the worst part. Feeling their sticky leavings inside, becoming a receptacle for cast-off fluids, like a spittoon or a urinal. And that stuff they left was essentially humanity, the raw material thereof, the essence of human weakness and inferiority, and it was inside of her.

And yes, Envy could change, not be a 'her' any longer, but that wouldn't remove the pollutant. All she could do was turn her finger into a scythe like Lust's, reach up inside and slice and gouge that most sensitive tissue, until a deluge of blood ran in torrents down her legs, washing out the filth…

What if I tell him there's a chance, and I don't have the nerve give him what he wants? How much stop-and-go will put up with, before he tells me to go fuck myself, if I won't fuck him already?

Maybe it would have been better if Envy had never opened this Pandora's Box of sexuality. Yes, it seemed there was potential for pleasure, but also so much pain….

Yet there was no going back, no closing the box. Because Envy knew that if it didn't take him, someone else would. Greed, for starters. Envy would have to watch them together, knowing Greed had something that Envy had wanted; something Envy could have had were it not too cowardly. And even when Greed moved on, how many humans would take his place? Envy couldn't stand the thought of that, of someone else getting his attention, his affection. Just the recollection of what it had been like to kiss him…the thought of him kissing anyone else was abhorrent. That kiss was Envy's, damn it, no one else could have it!

And then, the worst thought of all, what if Envy gave itself to him, gave everything, and lost him anyway? What if Envy's everything wasn't enough? That was the often the case for men, would this one be different?

I would kill him if he betrayed me. I would regret it, but that wouldn't stop me.

Maybe it was best for both of them, in the long run, for Envy to push him away. As it stood, Envy feared it was setting itself up to ruin the only good thing to come its way in a long time. Perhaps less was more in this case. Although a novice at friendship and romance alike, Envy understood that platonic relationships was safer, saner; less charged emotionally and therefore more stable. It should let things stay as they were. Should. But could it?

No. The box was open. Pretending otherwise could be as disastrous as not.

So this is what infatuation is? Envy wondered despondently as it lay on the floor. All the poets and playwrights have it wrong. Being enamored of someone is wanting to beat your head repeatedly against the wall. And here am I, Envy, dithering over it like an adolescent girl.

Oh yes, that wall was looking very inviting.