Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (Conqueror of Shamballa, pre-movie)
Rating: PG-13 for Edward's foul mouth and some fluff
Spoiler warnings: If you haven’t seen the ending of FMA then this will contain spoilers for you. No movie spoilers yet.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters used in this fic. They belong to their rightful owner.
Notes: So this is my first fanfiction you guys! I'm hoping for a bit of feedback (constructive criticism is appreciated as well) and comments to let me know how I did and if you guys want the next chapter. :) Not beta'd because I don't have/know any betas yet.
Summary: Alfons Heiderich had been living with the mysterious blonde for quite some time now, and was beginning to develop feelings for him. Conflicted with his disease, his time is running out; so he might as well make the best out of what time he has left.
Chapter 1: The Blonde Distraction
Alfons stared blankly at the clock. It was already past midnight, and he wasn’t even close to finishing the calculations on the fuel tank of the new rocket design the team was making. He sighed, and tried to focus, squinting his eyes because they had become blurry in the past hour. Just as he thought he was beginning to get on track again, the door to their small apartment opened, revealing the short blonde known as Edward Elric. Alfons shuffled his papers to let Edward know he was still working.
“You’re still up?” Edward asked. He laid his tattered brown coat across the kitchen table, which still had the remains of Alfons’ dinner strewn about it.
“So are you,” the German replied. “Where have you been tonight?” He eyed Edward suspiciously because he was never really one to get out and go with friends anywhere.
“I was researching something at the town’s library.”
“Researching what? And at this hour? I didn’t even know the library was open past ten.”
Edward smirked. “It’s not,” he added. Alfons looked at him, exasperated. Breaking into the library apparently wasn’t the worst thing Edward had ever done, according to his “stories” that he told Alfons more often than not.
“You mean to tell me that you snuck into the library while it was closed?” He sighed.
“I didn’t say that. I was in the library at the time that it closed, but I wasn’t finished with my books and I couldn’t check them out so I decided that I would hang around for a while. No harm done,” the other blonde chimed.
“I don’t know what I’ll do with you, with your stories and “hanging” around the library after closing. If you ever do something that screws up our work, I’ll personally hire an assassin to kill you in your sleep,” Alfons said, the half-smile on his face ruining the effect of the threat. He couldn’t help but notice how stupid of a plan that was. If anything, Edward would incapacitate whoever he hired. He was a good fighter.
Edward gave a short hmph, and went into the bedroom that the two of them shared. He shut the door behind him and didn’t make any further sounds. Reading, probably. Edward couldn’t help but read; in fact, it was probably what he did most in his life, like a necessity. Eating, (barely) sleeping, breathing, working, and reading. Not that Alfons didn’t like to read, but he couldn’t get so engrossed in a book that he stayed up all of the night.
And then he was distracted again, thinking about how cute Edward was when his bangs would sometimes get in the way of his book and he would become frustrated trying to move them out of the way. Alfons gathered his papers, arranged them in the order from least important to most important, and set them aside.
He then got up to go to the tiny kitchen in their already small apartment above Gracia’s flower shop to get some milk, the substance that Edward hated most yet Alfons loved. He poured himself a glass and took a long sip, letting the liquid soothe his throat, which was itching to let a cough out. It helped, but not nearly enough.
Alfons put the cup on the counter, doubled over, and began to cough, his chest tightening around his poor lungs. After the spell was over, he heard movement from their room, and Edward opened the door.
“You ‘kay?” He asked.
“I’m fine, just an itch,” the tall blonde replied. Edward nodded and closed the door again, the floorboards
creaking as he made his way back to his bed. The coughing made him remember that his time was limited, and that he needed to make the most of whatever he had left.
With another sigh, Alfons finished off the glass of milk and began to wash the glass, but he quickly stopped the water from the faucet. The sides of the glass were red, and it took him a moment to process that it wasn’t just the glass that was red. His hand that he had coughed into was as well. Blood. He had coughed up blood. Panic
rose in him, swelling into another cough as his heartbeat sped up.
After he allowed a few more coughs to slip from his body, he sank to the floor, unable to stand any longer. Both of his hands were stained now. He looked at them wildly, as if expecting them to explode or something. Alfons began to recompose himself as he picked his sorry self off of the floor to wash his hands. Great, he thought to himself sadly. He couldn’t let Edward see this, and wouldn’t, for that matter.
But it hadn’t been just blood. It looked slightly pink, and was foamy. Alfons wondered what this could be, but it couldn’t be good.
The German finished cleaning up, and then went to his shared bedroom. As he predicted, his roommate so into a book that he didn’t even notice Alfons walk in until he sat down on his bed to sulk at his wasted life. He wanted Edward to notice, to ask what was wrong and actually care about him instead of his brother. That was almost all Edward ever talked about, and it depressed him deeply.
How could he be from another world? The idea was so preposterous, Alfons didn’t quite get how talking about it affected the short blonde so much. It wasn’t true, so why should it bother him so much? Maybe he had gone insane thanks his childhood (which actually made sense, up until something called “Human Transmutation”). He himself knew what it was like lose your family. His own mother had succumbed to illness, and his father was lost in the war. It was a bit like Edward’s situation, except he didn’t have a brother.
The brother. That was the main problem. He couldn’t help but feel dislike to Edward’s brother, whom he had never even met, who somehow looked like him, except for his eyes. He also had Alfons’ name, only spelled differently.
“If Al had grown up, I’m sure he would look almost exactly like you,” Edward had said to him. “The only difference would be that his eyes are gray and yours are blue, and his hair is a bit darker than yours. You just look so alike, though…” Every time the Englishman would bring up his lost brother, Alfons would feel a twinge of annoyance sparking in his mind. Just shut up, he always wanted to say.
As nice as he was, Alfons hated being looked through and ignored. It had happened far too often as a child. It was like he was wasting space, like somebody else who everyone wanted to see should be standing there instead of him. That’s why he had to make his mark on this world before he was dragged away from it.
Unfortunately, Edward never did notice anything was bothering him, so he gave up. Unfolding the covers on his bed, his roommate finally put his book down and spoke up.
“What time do we have to be in tomorrow?” He asked. A typical question; Edward never paid any attention to schedules or time as far as Alfons knew.
“Eight,” he replied.
“Damn, why so early? In my world, I never had a schedule of where to go or what to do, except if I had to go on a mission or some other shit like that.” A typical Edward statement. At least it explained why he was so bad at keeping up with things, besides being so spaced out all the time. Wait; did he just believe what he just said?
“Because we have work to do,” was Alfons’ final reply, because of thoughts of him becoming crazy like Edward prevented him from speaking further. On the other side of the room he heard more curses, then the light turned out. But just because they both decided to go to sleep didn’t mean it would be necessarily peaceful; his roommate had frequent nightmares that he never talked about.
Occasionally, Edward’s groaning and whimpering would wake him from his slumber, causing him to lie awake for some time before finally drifting off again. It was a wonder he got barely any sleep, because the nightmares seemed to torment his friend every night.
In the morning, after a sleep deprived night, Alfons’ dragged himself out of bed to find that Edward was already awake and brewing his coffee. The machine was noisy, so it could be heard from the bedroom. That was just another factor in his life that woke him up on a daily basis.
Edward yawned, his face grim. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles under his eyes as usual, though they seemed slightly worse than usual. Alfons wondered what his lunatic mind had dreamed up for him this time; those stories he told were probably getting to him.
Alfons knew one story in particular that was quite disturbing. The story of little Nina Tucker, the girl turned into a half-dog chimera by her psychotic father, Shou Tucker, and was then murdered. Of course, Edward, being the graphic and cruel person that he is, went into great detail about Nina’s blood all over a wall, despite that it seemed to scare him as well.
He turned his mind away from the thought and instead picked up a glass to get some of the freshly brewed (cheap) coffee that tasted a bit like toilet water, he imagined. Alfons sat down on the ratty sofa to sip his coffee in peace as he watched Edward stride into the bathroom to get ready.
He watched as the Englishman’s ponytail trailed behind him, the golden locks fluttering with every step he took. Alfons especially liked when it was a windy day because of how much Edward complained that his hair got in his way; he found that to be somehow attractive.
He liked men who complained about virtually everything in life and claim they’re from a different world. The German laughed silently at the thought.
Alfons walked into the bathroom to prepare for work as well, and found Edward struggling to brush all of his hair. In the end, he threw down the brush and commenced tying his hair back furiously. He hated when he couldn’t do things right.
“Fuck it,” he exclaimed loudly.
“Let me do it,” Alfons said, his voice sounding a bit too high. Edward gave him a questioning look.
“No, that’s fucking weird.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”
After a couple more minutes of convincing, Alfons was finally allowed to brush Edward’s long hair for exactly thirty seconds. He started out at the bottom and worked his way through the tangles until he reached the top.
“Thirty,” Edward said, turning around and snatching the brush from Alfons’ hand.
“Let me tie it now,” Alfons said.
After a moment’s hesitation, he heard a quick, “Fine,” arise. He smirked, making Edward turn around again and punch him hard in the arm.
“Be thankful I didn’t use my right arm.” Alfons was thankful for that, but it’s not like Edward’s left arm had that much strength difference. Both of them hurt pretty badly.
Alfons ran his hand through the soft hair, and chuckled as he saw Edward reflection begin to blush slightly in the mirror.
“Stop that! If you’re going to tie it, then do it!”
He relented, and scooped up the hair in his hands, then tied it back in a ponytail. He briefly wondered what he would look like with long hair, and then dismissed the thought. He could never pull it off quite like Edward could.
Alfons found his heart beating faster than usual, and tried to regulate it.
“There, all done,” he exclaimed. His roommate stormed out of the bathroom, forgetting his coffee that he had left sitting on the bathroom counter. Alfons smiled and sighed, then picked up the brush and began to work on his own hair.
Then he caught himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. “You and Al look so alike,” his mind whispered to him, replaying what Edward had said many times before. His hair, his face, his expressions, his name, somebody else had them too? What happened to being unique?
He looked at himself, trying to picture what Al would look like, and found himself becoming annoyed, he didn’t know what at, though. Maybe himself, maybe Edward for implanting this in his mind. Or maybe his brother Al for just being like him.
Regardless, Alfons squashed the thought and went back to getting ready. After all, he needed to focus as much as he could. Deadlines were fast approaching; both his death, and his work were conflicting with each other; the death deadline wanting to put itself at an earlier date to be due.
He picked up Edward’s coffee mug and left the room, barely remembering to turn off the light behind him.
“What time is it?” Edward mumbled, his eyes glued on a page in his book. It was the book on rocket design and engineering Alfons had lent his friend. At least he knew he was enjoying it.
“Can’t you look at the clock yourself?”
Edward repeated the question, this time more sternly.
“It’s half past seven, we’ll need to leave in ten minutes.” Edward groaned, obviously wanting to do anything but go to work today. Alfons noticed that they both weren’t dressed properly yet, so he dragged them both into the bedroom to change.
As Edward changed, Alfons couldn’t help but stare at his chest. Or more specifically, what was on his chest; a large, oval-like scar that also appeared on his back, only a little smaller. Every time he saw Edward shirtless, he wondered what it was from. That was one story that he hadn’t ever heard, and the one story he was actually interested in.
As curious as Alfons was, though, he knew Edward wouldn’t want to talk about or explain it. Something in his eye let him know that it was not to be discussed, but today, he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was the fact that he was feeling particularly needy, but he wanted to find out.
“Edward, what is that large scar on your chest from?” Alfons voiced, a little nervous. His friend got a frown on his face, and looked away.
“It’s nothing,” he replied.
“It’s obviously something. But what that something is, I don’t know,” the German retorted.
“It’s fucking nothing!” Edward said, raising his voice.
“Just tell me!” He pleaded.
“It’s none of your fucking business, got it?” Edward snapped, obviously perplexed. Alfons backed off some, but not completely.
“For God’s sake, Edward, you tell me everything about stuff I don’t want to hear, then you don’t tell me about the one thing I actually do want to know.”
“Fine, you want to know? You can know. I fucking died. I was murdered. There. End of story. Happy now?”
Alfons was momentarily shocked before processing what he just heard. Edward was… murdered? But that didn’t make any sense, because Edward was here, alive and well, standing right in front of his own eyes.
“I don’t…” Alfons trailed off. He didn’t get it. How could Edward be dead? “I don’t understand. You died? But you’re still alive, unless you’re a ghost, but those don’t exist…”
Edward glared at Alfons and clenched his fist, steaming with annoyance.
“Look, can we talk about this later? We have to leave now.” Alfons hadn’t even noticed that it was now ten minutes later, and quickly sped up his pace of dressing. Edward left the room, pick up his coat off of the table, and left the apartment; not forgetting to slam the door.
Alfons was still very confused at the whole situation, and would sighed at the thought that he probably wouldn’t be able to get any work done today. How can one expect to work on complicated equations about rockets while thinking about how your roommate could possibly be a ghost or demon?
Damn, this was surely going to bother him until all of this was explained. He guessed this was why Edward had never told him, or maybe it was because he didn’t want to be reminded of his death, if that was even true.
And that brought him to the fact that if it was in fact true, then maybe all of Edward’s other stories could be true too. If Edward died and… lived (He guessed that was the right word, though it didn’t really make much sense), then he could have most likely been the most known alchemist in Amestris, the Fullmetal Alchemist. He could have fought a serial killer that killed innocent girls named Barry the Chopper. His brother could have been trapped in a suit of armor without a body for four years. Was it even all possible?
No, it wasn’t, and that was what complicated everything. None of that was possible, except for maybe the serial killer part. Could that have been where he was killed? No… Edward would have been chopped up. He shuttered at the thought of a disfigured Edward, and tried to derail his train of thought from going further.
As Alfons shuffled out of the apartment after what seemed like hours later, he grabbed his coat off of the sofa and headed out the door.
Everything that he had known about Edward swam through his mind and distracted him from working. At one point, he was concentrating on piecing together everything when his coworker, Klaus, tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around and yelled, “Are you a demon?” At him. He quickly apologized, and said that there was a lot on his mind.
Klaus leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “Is Elric finally starting to get to you?” This made Alfons think for a moment. Maybe Edward was just screwing with him to see how much he could mess up his life.
“Yeah, I think so,” Alfons whispered back. Klaus patted him on the back and gave him an ‘I’m-sorry-that-you’re-stuck-with-a-luna
“Maybe you should go home and rest a bit, before he gets done working here. I’m sure we can handle things here without you for a day. You don’t seem to be making much progress anyways, probably have too many things on your mind,” he said. Alfons appreciated the thought, but declined his offer.
“We have a deadline, don’t we?” Alfons said strongly. “We can’t afford to waste any time just because I can’t get my head around things,” he added. Maybe this would tell them that he didn’t need any pity from anybody else.
“That’s the enthusiasm I like to hear,” said Klaus, heading back to his work area. “Feel free to take from leave every now and then, though. You work hard enough as it is already.”
Alfons assured him that he wouldn’t be taking any breaks any time soon, and that they still had a lot of work to do. He hoped that the other men on the team would think the same way.
Even with his mind a little clearer now, Alfons’ head was having trouble doing some of the calculations. He eventually gave up on that (he was still too distracted to use his brain to full potential), and went to making a few quick sketches of rockets and parts, then labeled them all.
Years ago, in school, he never thought of himself as being an engineer, he had never liked math. But now, Alfons was in love with the thought of complicated equations and intricate parts on a rocket that could determine whether or not it would fly or crash.
He had always liked space, though, and had always wanted to go into it. Of course, that was a long way off, and he was probably too big to be an astronaut anyways. He had heard that the capsules that the astronauts would eventually go up into space in were small. Edward, though, would probably fit nicely in one.
The taller man chuckled to himself as he pictured what Edward would do to him if he said that; he always hated being called small or short. It was his pet peeve.
Edward. The scar. His death. And there he was, distracted again, unable to complete the drawing of a narrow rocket he had been working on for the past twenty minutes. He couldn’t even focus on that feeling he had when he was brushing Edward’s hair that morning; it was like knowing that his roommate had died completely wiped out every good feeling he had ever had about him. Now all Alfons felt was fear.
He was scared of Edward. The Edward that he wanted to hold and kiss. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do that anymore. Maybe this was for the better; after all, homosexuality was strictly forbidden by law in Germany. If anybody found out that he had a thing for his roommate… things wouldn’t be looking up for him.
The German pushed the thoughts out of his mind and looked back at the design of the rocket that suddenly seemed so alien to him. Edward had once told him that his world didn’t have rockets or planes or anything, which seemed very strange. A world without rockets? No way.
Despite not knowing anything about rockets or the equations for them, Edward picked up everything very quickly. It was obvious to anybody that he was a genius. He could solve the complex equations in a matter of minutes, no matter the difficulty.
Apparently, Klaus noticed Alfons spacing out again and forced him to go home (with the help of Erik, Steffen, and Phillip, who literally threw him out). He got up, sarcastically thanked everybody, and began to walk home in the cold, fall weather.
At the apartment, Alfons was surprised to find Edward lounging around on the sofa (without a book) just staring off into space.
“You’re home early,” Edward spoke.
“Klaus and the others said I looked stressed out and that they wanted me to go home,” Alfons answered. It had obviously been a question as to why he was here, interrupting Edward’s alone time. And this completely defeated the purpose of going home, to get away from his roommate. But he really did need to talk this out with him, and midnight was not the ideal time to.
“Can we talk about what you said earlier, now?” Alfons asked. His reply was a glare from Edward. “Please, it’s been stressing me out all day.”
Edward looked him over as if to confirm that he had been, indeed, stressed out. Alfons was sure he looked the part, his hair was a mess from how many times he had run his hands through it (an odd habit he had when he was stressed or in deep thought), and he could feel that his eyes were a bit strained. But it might not have been enough to convince the most stubborn person in all of Germany.
“You won’t believe me even if I tell you,” Edward muttered, looking somewhat ashamed. “You think I’m crazy. Why should I even bother wasting my breath if I know you won’t even believe it?”
“It will be hard to believe, but I’ll try my hardest. After all, it’s hard to ignore proof that’s right there on your body.” That seemed like a pretty good point, but it rose a thought in Alfons’ mind; would he believe him? Or would the story be so abstract that he would have no choice but to put it down as fake.
“Look, I’m not a normal person. I guess you can tell that already, even if the stories I told you weren’t true.”
The taller man looked down for a second before saying, “Yeah."
“And you’re okay that you’re rooming with an insane man that tells insane stories about what appears to be an insane world?” Edward asked, a smirk creeping onto his face.
“I wouldn’t say ‘okay’,” Alfons chuckled. “More like beginning to accept the fact that my life is screwed up.” At that, the smirk on the Englishman’s face turned into somewhat of a smile, though Alfons couldn’t tell if it were fake or not. It was still a nice smile. He loved Edward’s smiling face, and wanted him to be happy, but he seemed to insist upon being depressed in this world.
And then Alfons found the thoughts creeping back into his head. The thoughts about pinning Edward down onto the bed, him trying to fight, smiling. Then he would tell him not to make so much noise, that someone could hear the taboo they were violating, and Edward would say something smart-assed, and Alfons would grin. Then…
His mind trailed off before being brought back to reality when Edward spoke.
“I’m just afraid you’re going to think I’m some kind of freak and then…” He said softly.
“And then what?”
“Nothing. So what happened was-“
“No wait, tell me what you were going to say,” Alfons pushed further. He wanted to know what Edward was afraid of so he could help him.
“It’s not important, just something stupid,” Edward persisted. He was living up to his title as the most Stubborn Person in Germany.
But Alfons wasn’t letting it go. He could be persistent too. “Please?” He asked, his face morphing into a worried expression. He wondered that if he ever acted so much like Al, he could get Edward to do anything he wanted. Edward could be his. But he didn’t want that. He wanted for Edward to love him because of who he was: Alfons Heiderich; not Alphonse Elric.
“I’m just afraid that I’ll lose the one person that I have in this world!”
The words snapped Alfons back to reality; he didn’t know that Edward actually cared about him. Or maybe he cared about his brother. Maybe he was lumping Alfons in with the other Alphonse, somehow changing them into one person, one being. He got rid of the thought abruptly and tried to take in what his friend had just said.
“What…” Alfons trailed off. At that, Edward got off of the couch and went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He was so dramatic. And Alfons loved it.
“Edward, come on. Open the door,” the German said, reverting to English for a moment (Edward called it Amestrian, though) to see if that had any effect.
Apparently it didn’t. He got the silent treatment in reply. Instead of waiting, he decided to work on the equations he couldn’t do earlier because of the distractions. Then he realized, Edward was just avoiding talking about it. Even if what he said had been true, he was still stalling on the subject. Alfons decided to give him some more time to think about what to say.
As the evening went by, Edward still hadn’t come out of his room. He was probably reading.
“Do you want any dinner?” Alfons called to him through the door. No response. He could obviously force himself to stay frustrated.
Enough was enough. Alfons found a paperclip laying around his stack of papers and books. He had learned how to pick locks when he was younger, which proved to be a handy skill in times of need. After a couple minutes, the lock was open.
“Edward, I’m coming in,” the blonde said. As he opened the door, he immediately observed the surroundings, and found out why Edward hadn’t answered him.
Edward was gone.
“Edward?” Alfons said uselessly. It was stupid, he couldn’t really be hiding anywhere, but he decided to check anyways. He wasn’t under the beds, or in the closet.
The window. Leave it to Edward to attempt to jump out a window just to get his way. What a stubborn man. Alfons grinned. He waltzed over to the window and peeked out of it to find the snow beneath noticeably shifted out of place, with imprints of a body landing on it.
Alfons whisked his coat on and ran out the door, hoping that Edward hadn’t gotten them into too big of a mess. Here he was, supposed to be at home staying away from the man; not chasing after him.
Outside, the snow was falling lightly; just a little bit more than a flurry. Typical fall weather. It normally began to snow sometime in early fall. Alfons remembered how he would look out the window of the house he had shared with his mother and father when it was snowing. Germany was so beautiful.
But now wasn’t the time, he remembered. He had to find Edward before he froze his ass off. Or worse, his prosthetics could give him frostbite. The thought alarmed him enough to get moving through the snow, buttoning his coat as he went.
Alfons called out Edward’s name in a desperate attempt to find him, the snow now getting heavier by the minute.
“Edward! Edward!” He called. No answer. Panic rose in him; what if he couldn’t find him? What if Edward was lost forever in this whirling pool of whiteness?
Thirty minutes later with still no luck, Alfons was half frozen already. The snow was coming down hard now, and it showed no signs of stopping. He hadn’t paid attention when people around him discussed that there would be an upcoming snowstorm soon, but now his heedlessness was going to get him in a mess of trouble.
“Edward!” He continued to call out. It was no use. Edward was probably lost, or hurt or…
Or back home.
Anger welled up inside of Alfons, pushing him not to give up. If that bastard was home the whole time Alfons was looking for him, he didn’t know what he would do. He stomped through the snow angrily, half-hoping he was right so he didn’t have to continue searching.
And one hour later, he found out he was right.
Coldness forgotten, he threw his coat at Edward and began to scream, not even caring if he had a rational reason as to why he was here.
“I was searching for over two hours for you, and here you are, at home! I can’t believe you, making me chase after you, getting wound up from worry! I thought you were lost and couldn’t find your way home! Why would you even go out the fucking window in the first place!” Alfons yelled. Poor Gracia could probably hear them downstairs, but he didn’t care.
Through all of that, Edward just sipped his coffee. “I went out to the store and got more coffee because we were low, then I came back and you were gone,” he said nonchalantly.
“Couldn’t you have used the door like a normal person, or at least have told me?” Alfons continued. He didn’t even remember that they had just bought more coffee a couple days ago, and still had a lot of it.
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“That wouldn’t have bothered me!” Alfons sat down, exasperated. All of the yelling made his throat hurt, and a cough came up. After a couple more minutes, he settled down and went into their room. He was fucking cold. It was now about ten o’ clock, so he decided to read for a bit to try to calm down his nerves.
“Look, Alfons, I’m sorry. I should have told you. I didn’t think you’d worry so much,” Edward said, his voice muffled through the door. Then it opened, revealing his roommate’s face, which was a mix of concern and guilt. It suited him, Alfons thought.
He sighed. “It’s fine… I was just over reacting. That’s all,” he muttered softly. It was hard to stay mad at such a beautiful face.
Edward’s face took on a more relieved look.
“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” Alfons finished, closing his book and setting it aside.
“I will too,” Edward said. He went back to the other room and turned off all the lights before coming back the bedroom, then shut the door. He then began to undress, and Alfons was once again reminded of the mysterious scar on his chest and back. Now was not the time, though. He at least knew that much. Alfons had already dressed in his night clothes, so he got completely under the covers in an attempt to get warmer. Their apartment was cold, and his bed was close to the window.
About five minutes after Edward had gotten settled into his bed, Alfons heard a whisper come from across the room.
“What? I can’t hear you,” he voiced.
“I said, do you think we could sleep together?” Edward asked softly. Alfons flipped onto his side to see that Edward was looking at his bed, blushing a bit. “It’s cold tonight.”
Maybe this was some attempt to make up for what had happened earlier, or maybe he was actually cold, but either way, he would never turn that offer down.
“Sure. It’s colder over here, though.”
“Well then I’ll make it warmer.”
With that, Edward shuffled out of his bed, brought his pillow over to Alfons’, and climbed in, nudging Alfons over a bit. It felt so different, sleeping with him. Would this become a daily thing? Or was it just because of what happened? It was best to enjoy it now, though, while it lasted. And if it happened again, that would be even better.
Edward flipped onto his side to face Alfons, who felt his face heating up. He found himself scooting closer to the beautiful creature beside him. Without even meaning to, he slung his arm over Edward’s waist and scooted even closer.
“Alfons-“ Edward was cut off when Alfons leaned in and pushed his lips against Edward’s, not expecting a return from Edward. The kiss became more heated, and Edward slid his tongue over Alfons’ lips to signal that he wanted entrance. Gladly granted, the Englishman’s tongue began exploring the German’s mouth enthusiastically, so Alfons did the same to Edward.
His heart was still beating rapidly even a minute after they had pulled apart. Edward put his head on his collarbone, so Alfons rested his chin on his head. His hand was still slung over Edward’s waist protectively.
“Is it any warmer now?” Alfons whispered into Edward’s ear. He started to nibble on it slightly, making his way down his neck, trailing kisses down it that made Edward shudder in excitement. He pulled his head back up and chuckled at his roommate’s whimper.
“Yeah, lots,” Edward said
And with that, they fell asleep together. If only Alfons’ dreams had been so pleasant.