Done (The Human Stain)

[jheti]

FMA slash (m/m). AU: past!fic. Magical wank of healing? Not quite. Envy/Greed, both consenting adults. Blood, sorta kinky, kinda bondage maybe? Rated R. Mainly because Greed says "fuck" a lot. Apologies to Arakawa Hiromu, to whom the characters belong. ~3,335 words or so.

Completed alpha draft. I might edit it for pronouns later, or I might not. I am lazy.

'Cause it costs to
Be alive, my friend [..]

That's the price you pay
Minute by minute
You beg for a minute more

Kamelot, "The Human Stain"



He regains consciousness on the third day and speech on the sixth. And on the seventh day, he is again himself. He has posture and memory and skin. Flesh. New, raw, agonizing. The air itself scours over him like a thing with teeth. Breath moves through his lungs with ragged, razor-edged slowness. Opening his eyes is an ordeal; they were sealed in his sleep with tears or sweat, something that flakes back when he blinks, crinkling on his temples.

He wants some of that dreadful colony tobacco. Right now. Desperately.

He cannot move. He hurts too much to bother trying. There are heavy bands across his wrists and ankles, thick cuffs lined with leather and pulled just a bit too tight. It's a shame he can't seem to remember where he is, or how the flying fuck he got here, or why exactly he has no clothes on.

Blood. That's what he smells. That's what's on his face, and--he cranes his neck--most of the rest of him. He's brownish-crimson from top to toe like the old-style devils of home.

Home. Dante.

The name, the memory, goes through him like lightning; his shoulders give way as he lunges forward and his arms lurch against the cuffs, nearly broken. He screams. It's impossible to stop once he starts. There's always more of the noise coiled inside him, waiting to burst free. He snaps the bones in the tops of his feet. He has to get away before she comes back. He'll fucking crawl out of here if he has to.

He is not going back into the circle. That unravelling array.

"Good morning," she says, with that fragile and heartless smile. White hair and a slight stoop have not made her less terrifying.

He's only just pulled all his pieces together again. The lines that held him prisoner are still wet. She tore him apart to make them, took his spleen and his liver and slimy dark bits that he can't even name. He wails like a girl, wide-eyed, frantic.

"I won't do it again," he says, because her hand is coming at him. Last that happened, she jammed her fingers through his heart and laughed about it. The Shield didn't work when she didn't want it to. "I swear! Please."

It's pointless to hate himself, to hate the words. He does anyway. He needs everything, all the time, and it makes him do and say the most shameful things.

A smirk creases over Dante's features; her hand is hot and smooth. "You're such a whore."

Is that all? The shock must show on his face, because she laughs at him, dark and low.

"Idiot brother," and her voice slides sideways, her features melt and twist. She pushes up against him, and suddenly she isn't a she anymore, jutting against him in new and different places. "Welcome home."

It's not Envy's true face, all sly cruelty and deep green hair, but it's his favorite. It's Greed's favorite, too, truth to tell. And Envy knows it. Greed makes a strangled noise of astonishment and tries to get closer. It hurts. A lot. But he's on the mend already, and what's a little more pain if it gets him what he wants?

'No' is the last refuge of weaklings. He's never said it, no matter what the witch did to him, and he's not about to start.

"Hello, yourself," says Greed, showing teeth. It's like a smile. He snares Envy's lips in his fangs and bears down, chewing. "Thought about you."

The elder homunculus grinds into him so hard his eyes water and then tears loose, leaving scraps of himself in Greed's mouth--wet paper, mercury, lead, and a touch of red stone.

"I didn't think about you," Envy says, lying, knowing it will work, knowing it will hurt. "Not once."

"Really."

Bondage is not Greed's thing. His head is pounding and his feet are numb. Envy won't move with him, won't help him in the slightest, won't touch him at all except for poking him a little with that hard-on.

He'll make it up to the bastard later.

"Of course." Envy smirks, grimaces, smiles, and tilts his head out of the way. "You're sentimental." The word is all sneer. "Still so human. Why would I care? I didn't even notice you were gone."

The room wobbles for a second. Exhaustion and pain and Envy are too much in the morning, fucking with his head like this; it's too damn early.

"I missed you," Greed insists.

Envy leans into him, his slim, pale hands braced against the cuffs, folding so tight the metal whines as it starts to buckle. Something flickers and glows behind his eyes. His lips, white and shining like the edge of a china plate, flutter just at the corners as he slowly rocks forward on his hips.

Greed knows hunger when he sees it.

"You're--" he rolls his head toward the ceiling, brings it down too fast. Sparkles coil through his field of vision as he widens his eyes, perches his tongue on his teeth and licks his lips. A little nearer and he'll be able to take another bite. "Unforgettable."

It's the thinnest line he's ever spun, and Envy's not taking the bait. His hands convulse around the cuffs; they implode with one clean, wet thunderclap of sound and take Greed's wrists with them.

He's ready to pass out again, seasick with hurt. Envy will laugh as he kills him again. He reaches in, tries for the Shield, and gets only a strong, electric chemical charge from his toes to the tips of his hair--the ones against the nape of his neck are standing at attention.

He's going to die, still hung over from last time, and he's got a boner that could cut diamonds.

"I suppose that's why you left?" The words are small and bitter through Envy's delicate doll lips. He takes two steps back and keeps Greed pinned to the wall by main force.

He'd never manage that if Greed were better. If it were tomorrow instead of today.

"The bitch." Greed spits; half sticks to his face and he doesn't care. It's just like her. He can't get rid of her and he can't get away and he can't understand why Envy didn't come with him. "She's why. She's always why."

He asked! He never asks for anything, from anyone, and he'd said please. Of course Envy refused. Envy always refused everything the first time. That was how he got it up, got off, and probably the only way he got any sleep at night.

Greed, dizzy and half-poisoned, had figured he just needed better bait. That was the last time he'd ever snort antimony, or anything else from the bitch's lab, no matter how sparkly it was or what Lust said it would do for his sexual prowess.

Envy looked so fragile in that halfway form, pliable and dangerous. Greed, feeling dangerous himself--nothing could kill him, except her--had coaxed Envy up to his room and laid bare a fantastic new plan he'd dreamed up just seconds before. His hands shook and flexed by themselves as he reeled from side to side, pacing, unable to stop talking long enough to even pause for breath, talking and talking until he tasted blood. Envy watched with detached amusement from atop the loose pile of bawdy sketches and old clothes that buried the nicest of Greed's three divans.

It was a brilliant fucking plan. They were going to sneak up on her, see. She had a mortal body, she was a deep sleeper and always had been. All he would have to do would be lean on her. Then they would be free. They could go to Central, or maybe the Drachmin border, kill a bunch of northmen and see what passed for alchemy in the hinterlands. Together. That would be perfect.

Envy quit smirking. Greed hadn't noticed--his head hurt so much; his throat was on fire and he couldn't stand straight. Bile and vodka twisted sideways in his guts and pushed up into his mouth, red hot. He almost didn't hold it down. But that didn't matter. They were kings, they were gods, they were flawless created beings, and they were going to slay the bitch and rule the world. Envy could have that operahouse he'd fancied, the one in Central where giddy tarts and tenors with a mince in their step painted their lips and trilled the mindless, endless scales of notes that were the fashion these days.

Envy was frowning outright by the time he collapsed and scowling at him when he came up from convulsions and darkness, all cold sweat and confusion.

That didn't matter. He was the Ultimate Shield; he couldn't die and he had the best bait ever in the world--Envy would pop a blood vessel, it'd throw that switch in his twisty, vicious mind marked 'I Want It'. Everybody had that switch and Greed knew how to get inside people's heads and stomp up and down on it. Envy was going to flip.

He'd offered up his best secret, his best trinket. He'd been saving it for-fucking-ever. A sliver of very old red stone--the real shit, the good shit, from that eastern country where they slaughtered firstborn girls. Pure distilled misery, bright new lives. Not eating it, holding it out toward Envy and smiling and pretending he really wanted to give it up, had about killed him.

Then Envy finished the job anyway. Twice. He'd demolished Greed's room and set it on fire, and then gone and tattled on him. The stupid little shit.

Dante had not been best pleased.

Greed figures it might have hurt less if he hadn't fled. If he hadn't tried to lay low, get away, make a name for himself further down the coast. If he didn't want so much. To be free. To be famous. To get rich. To get laid. To have another drink, another dare, another duel, and Just One More Round of wine, women, and cards. He's that way with everything, even pointless things like pretty rocks and bits of paper and string. He has yarn and thread and silken floss of every color and description. It's his secret vice. He keeps it in jewelry boxes in his closet, nestled beneath his shabbier coats.

He can't help himself. He can't stop. Even if he could, that's the only thing he wouldn't want.

"I hate you," says Envy. He doesn't say why; he doesn't have to. He might not even know.

Envy is, of course, jealous. He can't be otherwise, any more than Greed can be charitable.

"Good," says Greed, conversationally, trying to ignore the deep ache spreading from behind his groin. "Go for it."

"You'll never learn," croons Envy. His smile is sweet and perfect and dead. His tongue is cool, sleek, all seawater and women's tears. It trails down Greed's bare face and makes him shiver.

"Teach me?" He could play like he doesn't want it, but he's tired and raw and already naked. Envy rubs up to him and it makes him groan. "Show me how. You're so good at it. Much better than me."

This time it works. Envy beams, just for a second, scowling again by the time he parts his lips, and Greed learns it is possible for someone to preen and suck face at the same time. He'll feel used, he always does, but that will come later. Here and now there's what he wants, and the little bastard mewls into him, purring in his mouth, taking his breath. Envy's hand glides down his chest, icy and smooth. It burns--his nerves seethe and scream at the touch--and he arches into it, pressing. He bucks his hips, his shoulders, just to get more. He can't struggle and have Envy at the same time, not with the wall against his back, but he wants both. He wants all of it, right now.

"Like this." Envy grabs on tight, demanding a response with hard, fast strokes like he wants to pull it off. Maybe he does, and that would hurt like fuck and it's making Greed crazy. He holds off biting, forces himself to be as gentle as he can, hunting for the back of Envy's throat with his tongue. Envy keens and tightens his grip in both places.

The elder homunculus is sleek as glass. The only warmth to him is Greed's reflected heat; it makes Envy sweat, a chilled goblet left out in the sun. He fools them all, a perfect mirror, showing them only what they want to see. Greed wasn't lying. He's missed this, missed him, wanted him, thought of him. For Envy, that's all that needs to be true. He's always loved attention. His younger sibling has amazing focus when he wants something. Envy thrives on being needed, being desired. Why can't Greed stay and be his and be content? Isn't he enough?

He shoves Greed away with a growl; there's a low, dull crunching sound and a halo of dented red against the wall, outlining his head. He snarls in pain--it takes both hands and a knee to keep him down, this time. Envy's fingers dissolve into the wall and hang on. He whips forward and slams his skull against Greed's face. He feels it give under him, that smug lantern jaw and big ugly nose popping apart in a rush of bitter warmth. Greed's teeth don't break, but he doesn't want to play anymore, making hard, sharp noises of pain. There's nothing human about the way he screams when Envy rams his knee up into exposed places.

He hardly goes soft at all, still hot and twitching against Envy's thigh. His little brother really is a sick fucker. It makes him laugh.

"What's the matter?" He's every inch a kitten with its first mouse. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

At last the Shield flinches into being. It crawls in from the edges first. His claws are massive, sharp and hot and lightless in Envy's cold ivory grip. It's Greed's turn to laugh--a wet, mangled noise, concrete slogging down a cesspit. He gags on the remnants of his face as his cranial bones fuse.

"Fuck you."

He can't manage the full transformation. The sigils still humming faintly all around them won't allow it. If Envy had thought about it, if he'd thought of anything except breaking some more of Greed's bones just to hear him whimper, he would have remembered that the signs tooled into the cuffs were a big part of what held Greed in place. He's still too weak to do anything, but strong enough to deny his brother.

Almost. It won't cover his head, no matter how he strains, and he knows what Envy sees, because just now Envy is wearing his face.

He looks like shit and he can't stop smiling, all eyes and teeth, fairly drooling at the prospect of more--punishment, pleasure, whatever, as long as there's lots of it.

"No," says Envy, matching his voice down to the hitch of breath at the end. "Fuck you. Lesson's over."

"You." Greed's face is so dark that for a moment he looks as he did when Dante first lured him here; it's that same throttled, hideous eggplant flush of pure strain. "I'll kill you."

"I'll kill you," rumbles Envy, scrunching up his face, wagging his tongue and rolling his eyes crazily. "I'm Greed, and I'm gonna fucking kill you." Making faces at him with his own face. It's just not right. "But I'll rape you first," Envy purrs. "Twice. Then I'll skullfuck you and piss on your corpse."

"Get off me." It's ferocity born of panic.

"Get you off? Sure, baby. I was made for love."

This is wrong, this is one thousand different kinds of wrong, and he'd come right now if he could get enough friction with anything. If Envy would hold still and touch him again. The Shield leaches down around his ankles, midnight retreating into his skin.

"You talk a lot." Greed sneers. He pistons his hips for show, hurting, touching air and nothing. There will be blood in it when he's finally done. "But you don't do much."

Oh. There. That was the right thing to say. Envy's hands are on him again. Envy's body is on him again. Sure, it still looks and feels like his own hands around his throat--that's weird, and he hates to be strangled--but Envy is within his reach, his influence, his ownership, and now Envy is naked, too.

"Don't fuck with me," snarls the eldest, irate. Greed's vision starts to go melting and dark at the outsides. This hurts more than the antimony. It'll probably end the same way, though. If he can just finish before he dies...He can feel his eyes watering in sheer base-physical frustration.

He flexes his neck as much as he's able; those hoarse little sounds could mean anything.

"You don't know anything about me!" Envy shrieks, melting again, changing again, always cold no matter what face he wears. It's his standard expression, long sprays of acid green hair wheeling out of control around his contorted face. "None of you do! You don't know--"

And all the pressure's gone. Just like that. He lets go, shaking, and Greed would throw up from the sudden inward rush of air if he could. He falls forward instead, taking huge, heaving, gagging breaths and trying not to be disturbed by the way Envy nuzzles into his chest, somewhere between grinding against him angrily and holding him up.

That's good. He couldn't stand on his own. He can't even lean straight.

Envy's crying. He's sure of it.

"Hey," says Greed, and the word feels like dying, "Hey."

It's a new kind of hell, having circulation in his arms again, but he manages to throw one across Envy's shoulders without knocking him over. "What we were--" Coughing takes the words away, so he tries again after. "What we were doesn't matter."

"Shut up," says Envy tonelessly. "You big, dumb, ugly fuck."

"Eat me," says Greed with a sigh that stabs clean down through his aching balls. "You little, prissy, crybaby whore."

Envy convulses underneath him and makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scream.

"Now we're getting somewhere!"

A pearlescent, malicious flash of teeth and a creepy little giggle on the way down are all the warning Greed gets.

No one's ever nipped him there before. No one's had the brass. He shudders, thrusts up, hard; he won't wait anymore. Envy doesn't need to breathe. He can die waiting his turn. Greed almost did. Envy's cold, all the way down, but he knows what to do with his tongue and tenses his muscles just right--a damned tease to the very end. Envy stares up at him without blinking. There's more than anger there, some reaction other than fear and disgust, something almost like want, but the hydraulic quality of his attentions does not change.

That shouldn't matter. Nothing hurts him anymore. Envy caved to his wishes in the end, everybody does eventually, because everyone is his. Even that psychotic, wizened old bitch skulking around somewhere in this house, his fucking house, this prison, his prison. The warden herself belongs to him and so do all the inmates. But this one is special, he's different, better, scarier than his younger siblings. He's the best one and Greed doesn't argue over that, even with himself.

Envy is the best thing he's ever had, giving him the best he will ever get. The room unhinges, reeling on its foundations as he screams. For one blank, white-hot second, he has everything.

The eldest swallows twice, deep and hard, and smirks up at him.

"You'll be well enough in a few hours to snap those little ankle bracelets, princess."

"I love you too, gorgeous," says Greed, smiling. This is too perfect. Envy's not going to put it awry now, no matter what he says. "I love you too."

Envy stands. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand with a chuckle and kicks Greed's crotch in.

-END-

Lolz PWNED.

Greed will have his revenge. It might involve flea-traps. I haven't decided. Not absinthe, everyone uses absinthe.

Oh well. W/e.