Eternity is Now

Author\'s Notes: Title stolen quite blatantly from \'The Dying Man\' by Theodore Roethke- the line goes \"I know, as the dying know/ Eternity is now\". Fitting, I thought.

This was written for Kaltia\'s Elricest contest, by the way. ^_^

Disclaimer: Don\'t own the characters and am not making any money off the story.


=====

Eternity is Now

=====

God.

It was something that they’d spoken of more times than he could count- as children, young enough to be innocent, lying pillowed in the grass as they watched the sun creep lower in a brilliant blue sky. As frightened little boys, preparing to take on a task far too large for them. As travelers set apart from the rest of the world, worrying over what they’d done and whether it could be fixed. As lovers, voices muffled against the warmth of the blankets and each other’s skin.

And always before, there had been just a glimmer of regret below the surface, barely visible in the depths of stunning golden eyes- a shade of emotion that he was certain his brother shared with no one else. Because the Fullmetal Alchemist did not hesitate, at least not in the sight of a public that so relied upon him; he did not stop to think, after proclaiming his disbelief, that without some benevolent deity to look over them, the people he’d been unable to save had simply ceased to be.

Alphonse knew better.

Understood, with an intensity that was nearly painful, the desperation behind words spoken so long ago- words that had suggested the impossible, the unthinkable, the worst sin a human being could commit. He’d seen the sorrow that wracked the frame of a twelve-year-old-boy in the darkness of a back alley, hands stained with the blood of a chimera that had once been someone he loved. Watched the ache that settled deep and heavy across his brother’s heart every time a life slipped through his fingers, lost to some petty, vicious human failing he’d been just moments too late to stop.

And so when the subject surfaced again, spurred by a priest that was stopping passers-by in the marketplace to hand out pamphlets, Alphonse knew what to expect: the slightly guarded expression in his brother’s eyes; the way he hunched his shoulders; the tiny crease that formed in his brow.

Signs that everyone else took as annoyance- but then, no one could read the Fullmetal Alchemist better than his little brother could.

* * *

When they\'d moved to Central, Alphonse had wanted to buy a house- someplace that could be signed over and called theirs without question.

But in all the years they\'d traveled, neither brother had stopped to consider that there was a time they ought to be saving money for, a time in the far-distant future when the wandering and uncertainty would be over at long last.

And so they\'d come to live here, a between-place that was home and yet not home, a compromise born of necessity. It was well enough, as far as apartments went, spacious and clean, with a window that faced west and looked out over the tile of rooftops far below.

But there was an unfinished feel to it, Alphonse could never quite help thinking- a sense that they treated this place as though it wouldn\'t last forever. It was in the boxes that lay clustered in the corner, full of decorations that the two of them had picked out together but never hung, in the suitcase that greeted him every time he entered the bedroom they shared, lying half-unpacked where his brother had left it.

And in the late afternoon, when the light streamed orange and muted through the wide, uncovered glass of their living room window, it always made the younger of the boys a little sad. Because it was a lovely apartment, certainly- exactly what someone in the vastness of Central wanted, perhaps.

But when the glow of the sinking sun caught in the gold of his brother\'s hair, when those bright, stunning eyes opened to meet him across the room, Alphonse knew that it wasn\'t theirs.

\"Al,\" the boy said from his place on the couch, voice barely loud enough to make itself heard. \"Do you ever wonder what’ll happen?\" That striking gaze had fixed itself on him, somehow pleading and subdued all at once.

“Happen, brother?” And a part of him could sense where this was going, in some small way, cringed from the knowledge and left the question uncertain.

“You know,” Ed answered, voice quiet. “After.”

And he did knew, even without asking, what Ed was trying to say- knew from the despair that had entered every line in his brother\'s face, from the way the boy lay stretched over the cushions, sprawled as though he lacked the strength to rise again.

\"What do you mean?\" he ventured regardless, picking his way across the too-bare floor to settle himself near Edward\'s feet. His brother had complained, when they bought the piece of furniture, that he wasn’t short, dammit- the couch was just too fucking long. But whatever the reason, they could fit comfortably this way, the older of the boys stretched out full-length and plenty of room left over for Alphonse to settle beside him.

“I don’t like thinking,” his brother said slowly, “That there’ll be a time when I won’t see you any more.” There was a pause, anxious. Expectant. “You know?”

Al couldn’t see the boy’s face from here, and for the space of several seconds, he was grateful for the fact. Because the tone was full with a bleak, washed-out sort of pain, and he wasn’t sure that he could stand to watch it reflected in the expressive depths of his brother’s eyes.

Alphonse reached with careful slowness, heart heavy in his chest, to rest a hand on the smaller boy’s leg and give a gentle squeeze. “I know,” he agreed, quietly.

“Every now and then,” Edward continued after a moment, “I wish it made sense to believe in something else.” He hesitated, uncertain, before managing to press on. “Something bigger. So that when people die…” There was silence again, so thick with emotion that Al thought his brother would be unable to finish- but the boy took a deep breath, shuddering and slow, and began to speak again. “…when people die, they aren’t just gone.”

“Brother,” Alphonse said, helplessly.

But there was no time for more- because Ed was moving already, propping himself into a sitting position, arms back and braced behind him. And when he fixed the younger boy with his gaze, deep and pensive and somber, Al had a moment to reflect that he’d never seen an expression quite like this one etched into his brother’s features.

He never wanted to again.

Alphonse was rising before he’d even realized that he intended to move, was standing and walking to kneel so that he could place his fingers carefully over his brother’s flesh hand.

“Brother,” he said again, more urgently this time. But whatever he’d meant to convey fled him, and there were no words of comfort that could be offered- nothing to be said about a subject of which he truly knew so little.

And so the boy simply leaned that little bit further, brushed his lips feather-soft against the gentle curve of Edward’s cheek, then jaw, then mouth. And when he pulled away, eyes soft with affection and shared pain, the smile that he offered was as full of hope as he could manage.

“Does it matter what happens later,” he asked quietly, “As long as we’re together now?”

For a fraction a second, there was a spark of hurt that bloomed, deep and thick within those lovely golden eyes- and then his brother was returning the smile, a crooked grin that ached to look at. “Not really,” Ed answered, and they both knew that the words were a lie. “Not so much.”

Fingers of steel reached for him, then, sealed around a fistful of shirt-fabric to guide him until he was where the smaller boy wanted. And when they’d both settled again, Alphonse with a knee planted firmly on either side of Edward’s lap, there was a moment before either of them moved, content simply to watch the play of the setting sun on hair and skin and eyes.

“Kiss me,” Ed demanded at last- and there was something fragile in his voice, something desperate, and the sound of it tugged at the edge of Alphonse’s heart.

He complied with a sense of caution, sought his brother’s lips even as a part of him reminded that Ed must be dreading some lonely, far-distant life. Made a thorough search of the boy’s mouth with an understanding that the tiny shudders racing through the form splayed out below him weren’t borne of passion.

Not yet.

But when his brother began to respond, tongue greeting the gentle exploration, Alphonse promised himself quietly that for now at least, for just these few moments, what they had today would be enough.

Just the two of them, in this place that wasn’t truly home. Just these touches, fleeting though they might be.

Imperfect, perhaps. Overshadowed by a future that neither of them could see and by the simple fact that life is made up of unplanned-for events. But for today, it was good. More than they’d dreamed of in all the long years they’d spent searching.

And it would be enough.

Beneath him, Edward made a quiet sound that came out muffled by his brother’s mouth, and Al lifted a hand carefully from the overstuffed cushion, transferring all his weight to the other so that he could place his palm flat against the boy’s still-clothed stomach. A moment longer and he was sliding the touch slowly upward, taking the fabric with him; a soft hum of pleasure was the reward as his hand began to search newly exposed skin.

Breaking the kiss to take in a gasp of air, Alphonse took a moment to steady himself before returning to the gesture with a sense of passion that had been missing before.

Because if he hoped to chase the melancholy cast from his brother’s eyes, the boy knew, he would need to replace it with something different entirely.

And so he traced his tongue searchingly along the roof of his brother’s mouth, swiped it out to draw across Edward’s lower lip, heated and slow, growing more intense with each passing second.

Between them, his hand traced idle patterns on the skin of Ed’s stomach, thumb dipping briefly into the smaller boy’s navel as his fingertips brushed feather-light across the line of his brother’s ribs. And when at last he trailed gentle touches over the scar-riddled skin surrounding the auto-mail port, shifted to sweep the pad of one thumb over a nipple, it was Ed’s turn to break the kiss, panting for breath.

“Al-” he began, and there was want in his eyes now, coupled with reluctance. “I-”

But a kiss swept in to silence him, and Ed’s body rose up in greeting, a soft sound of approval escaping the smaller boy’s lips.

It never failed to delight Alphonse, how unabashedly sensitive his brother was. How even the softest of touches could be turned into something erotic by the way Ed whimpered beneath them, squirming under the trace of fingertips along his wrist, or the gentle nip of teeth at his collarbone.

It was lovely to watch as coherence fled, bit by bit, from those astonishing golden eyes- brought him more pleasure than he could say to see the molten desire that rose up in their depths.

And by the time he reached the zipper of pants that had grown tight with anticipation, the brush of his fingers against his brother’s still-clothed erection brought a throaty groan in a response.

Edward bucked up into the touch as he worked the smaller boy’s length free, face a masterpiece of sheer emotion- and when he took it loosely in one hand, amazed as always at the sheer heat of it, the sound that wrung itself from his brother’s throat was quite possibly the most arousing thing he’d ever heard.

“Al,” the boy gasped as he began to stroke, tone already borderline desperate. “Al.” And that astounded him, too- that no matter how often they did this, his brother still responded as though he was discovering, for the first time, what it felt like for someone to touch him this way.

“Patience,” Alphonse murmured in response, and leaned forward to kiss him.

There was no reluctance in the gesture now- nothing but want and love and a powerful, thrumming desire that threatened to overwhelm them both.

And that, Al thought to himself, was as it should be.

Edward whimpered at the loss when he sat back, rocked his hips helplessly against air as the younger boy attempted to divest himself of clothing that was far too constraining. It was difficult with those eyes fixed on him, though- difficult when such a lovely creature was ready and willing and panting shamelessly beneath him.

He managed it somehow, though he had to force down a groan when Ed reached to help with his shirt, palms lingering mid-chest to graze over his nipples on the way to ridding him of the fabric.

By the time he was coaxing the smaller boy to lift his hips so that they could work his pants down a bit further, he could feel his control beginning to slip, eaten away beneath the want that radiated so openly from those amazing golden eyes.

He fumbled in the pocket of his brother’s jacket, hand closing around the small bottle that Edward kept there in hopes of convincing him that it should be put to frequent use. Two twists and the lid was free; the younger boy’s grip wasn’t quite steady as he spilled a bit of the contents across his fingers, fighting down the anticipation that already had his nerves stretched taught.

And when his brother spread his legs so blatantly like that, as wide as he was able on the narrow piece of furniture and with pants still trapped around his ankles, Alphonse moaned softly at the sight of it: lovely and erotic and all his.

He reached back behind his brother’s erection with a hand that trembled just slightly, pushed in slow and even. And Ed groaned in response, long and low, as the first finger slid into him- pressed back against it, hips moving restlessly against the rhythm the younger boy set.

“Al,” the boy warned after a moment. “Go faster.”

And so he added a second, watched with an answering spike of pleasure as Ed’s erection twitched at the intrusion, full and hard and moist at the tip. The smaller boy was panting open-mouthed now, all but writhing, and it was an incredible sight to behold.

Eyes locked carefully upon that expressive face, fingers still moving inside perfect heat, Alphonse leaned forward with deliberate slowness and licked a path up the underside of his brother’s erection.

“Fuck,” Ed hissed in response, hips coming up to meet him. “Fuck, Al- I need-”

But the younger boy was already pulling back, easing his fingers from his brother’s body, spurred as much by the plea as by his own rising desire. And Edward whimpered when the contact left him, squirmed against the cushions- beautifully impatient, already too heated to be able to wait motionless.

Alphonse’s hands trembled as he smoothed more of the bottle’s contents onto his erection, couldn’t quite stop himself from allowing the fingers to remain slightly longer than necessary, rubbing on the oil in long, slippery pulls. Below him, Ed seemed unable to tear his eyes from the sight; the boy was restless, eager, and it was the tug of hands, one metal and one flesh, that told him he was taking too long.

“Al,” his brother pleaded. “Now.”

It took no effort at all to urge the boy into a more accessible position- and then all that was left was to lean forward and press in, and Edward was rising up to meet him, eyes squeezing shut as a husky groan fell from his lips.

He hesitated just a moment, battled down the impulse to simply thrust into that delicious heat- and then Ed’s hips rocked up against him, and most of the sound he made was lost under his brother’s words: “Move, goddammit.”

And so he did- picked up a rhythm steady but building, watched enraptured at the expressions that it caused to bloom across his brother’s face. Just the sight was dragging him closer to the edge, building upon hot, tight flesh to overwhelm him.

“Brother,” he gasped, and spurred himself faster.

Ed keened in response, eyes falling closed under the assault of pleasure; almost of its own accord, the boy’s flesh hand crept down over his stomach and toward the erection that lay straining between them.

Al got there first, though- and when fingers closed firmly on overheated flesh, the older boy gave a cry that was very nearly a wail, jolted up into the touch.

“Good?” Alphonse panted, voice thick with want, as he firmed his grip and began to stroke.

There was no coherent response to that- nothing but the delicious little noise that Ed made as he attempted to press up into the oil-slicked heat of his palm. And the younger boy could only hope that meant his brother was drawing near the edge, because every tiny whimper had been adding to the lingering, tightening ache that dragged at the last reserves of his willpower.

And when Edward’s movement grew more frantic, when the boy’s head fell back to expose the smooth column of his throat, when he began mewling softly as Alphonse’s thumb traced small circles over the tip of his length, it all became quite suddenly too much.

“Brother,” Al managed, just a fraction of a second before the world whited out around him.

He was aware of nothing except the roaring in his own ears, the waves of ecstasy that left him frozen helpless in their wake. Didn’t realize when Ed’s back bowed taught as the smaller boy reached the threshold and hurtled over, voice rising up in a keening cry that drowned out Alphonse’s low moan. He knew nothing of the room around them, of the fading rays of the setting sun outside, of anything beyond one startlingly intense point of absolute bliss and the waves of rapture that crept out from its center.

When the world began to return to him, fragments of awareness, he shifted his weight carefully to one side, slipped in between the smaller boy and the back of the couch so that he could slide an arm around trembling shoulders. A heartbeat more and Ed had turned to face him, was pressing up close and nuzzling in against his neck.

He could feel his brother’s breathing, erratic but slowing, against the skin of his collar bone, reveled in the sensation of hair pressed soft and warm into the underside of his chin. For a long moment, the room was silent save the noises of the city in the streets far below, and Alphonse wondered, with just a tinge of worry, whether Edward’s thoughts had returned to their previous conversation now that the distraction had come to an end.

And then words filled the hush that had descended, whispered soft and uncertain, so close that he could feel them leave Edward’s lips. “Love you, Al.” The fingers of the boy’s flesh hand tightened on his shoulder, just perceptibly. “You know that, right?”

Alphonse took a long, slow breath, let it out in a sigh. “Don’t be stupid, brother,” he murmured in response, inclined his neck just slightly so that he could press a kiss to the top of his brother’s head. “Of course I do.”

There was silence again, and Al couldn’t help but wonder what filled his brother’s thoughts- whether Ed’s mind was caught once more in the notion that, whatever they had today, the future would bring a time when they were parted.

“Good,” Edward said at last, softly. “As long as you know.”

~owari~