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Warnings: Major Spoilers, Violence, Bad Language, MPREG.
Notes: Dark Humor is set before the final war in Liore where Ed is not quite the emotional wreck suffering from the effects of Impotent Hero Syndrome and Al is his usual metal self and not lit up like a Vegas Christmas tree. Both brothers have checked off all of the homunculi on their hit lists - save Pride - and remain unaware of the identity of the psychotic, Martha Stewart wannabe controlling them. Unbeknownst to the Elric duo, but knowst to us: they’re really better off that way.
If you're uncomfortable about the notion of boys getting knocked up by other boys, I suggest you don't read on... Unfortunately, I have to as I am the author.
Part the One: Mis-Conceptions.
Envy hadn't planned to take the joke as far as he had, but because the situation had become so ridiculous he simply couldn't help himself. Charged with the task of obtaining Edward Elric's regimental silver watch – proof of his induction into the State Alchemist Corps - Envy had decided to make the notably tedious mission a trite more enjoyable by taking acquisition the object in the most interesting way he possibly could. While Dante had hammered out, in her usual, no-nonsense, schoolhouse tone, that neither of boys were to be damaged until they became Philosopher’s Stone fodder - in any shape or form. If you get marks on them I’ll be very cross! – Envy knew that he could, at the very least, get in a bit of sport without splintering the rules too much; he had to admit, shaving a few slivers of pride off an Elric was just as good as barbecuing the shrimpy twerp with the fuel of his own temper.
Now, thanks to his quick, sly inspection the last time he’d swung by Ed and Al’s apartment in the guise of a cheerful doorstep salesman who happened to require the nuisance of the time, Envy was confident that the alchemist kept his watch in the pocket of his leather trousers; so the trick was that he somehow had to separate the item of clothing from the young Alchemist himself.
A task that, no doubt, required a subtler craftsmanship, than shouting: “Oi, Eddie! Got the time on your cock?”
To all intents and purposes, the cheap, classless Central City whore had accomplished the relatively simple job of removing Ed's pants without so much as busting out a set square; yet she had gone one step further in her performance by thoroughly indulging in the mood of her illicit role. Currently, Envy pondered his success as an actor as, in an irresistible choice of female form, he ground his body over Edward’s slim hips; emitting lungful after lungful of horrible, simpering bleats as he did so. And while Edward writhed below him - pawing hopelessly at the Sin’s thighs with clammy, helpless fingers – Envy stared back coolly; his face a mask of exotic impassiveness. It was a fact that the eternal homunculi took no pleasure in the act of intercourse itself – carnal enjoyment was not part of the Sin package, since they were pretty much out of the evolutionary cul de sac for good – but it was a shame unrealized by a select few of the homunculi community; namely those who had expired before adolescence made its rude introduction. Envy understood what sex was by function and fancy alone; experience had never wormed its way into the equation. While they say one can’t knock it before one tries it, the Sin was more than happily sated with a good round of knocking, since his combined munitions of alcohol and mind-altering drugs had finally succeeded in relaxing and over-sensitizing the unbelievably chaste alchemist into a state that was pliable enough to entice upstairs, shed clothing, and beat the mites out of what had probably been some form of mattress in previous life.
It was a little queer (no pun intended), that the length of the whore’s skirt seemed to have nothing at all to do with the success of the entrapment, however Envy figured he wasn’t one to comment on the alchemist’s sexual preference (bearing in mind that, under the fuzz of all those stimulants, preference in general actually existed in the first place), and if the gay bastard was happy banging blokes as he was broads, then good for him. It wasn’t as though he’d be able to claim much arse with Dante chasing his tail for the remainder of his career.
Envy cocked an eyebrow as Edward’s frantic jackhammer pace accelerated into a shamefully erratic frenzy, and grinned as he quickly morphed his shape seconds after the hot release painted his cool insides. After all, he wasn’t going to let Edward have the lord’s share of fun; this was where the joke really started.
(Wait for it...)
The Alchemist gave an exclamatory grunt as the final throes of his admittedly impressive orgasm left him spent, and he crashed backwards onto the pillows of the bed – viciously squashing the heel of his hand into his temple.
"Oh God," he moaned, rubbing the other across his closed eyes. He cracked them open experimentally and winced as the light threw shards of pain into his eyeballs and his vision fuzzed and spun.
(Wait for it...)
What... had just happened? Where was he? Why did he feel so awful? Why had gravity suddenly gone insane and insisted upon pulling his head in six different directions? In fact...did he even have a head anymore...or had is somehow been transmuted into a lump of cotton wool?
Why was his mother sitting on him?
Naked.
Mother.
Sitting on him naked. Mother.
Muh...
"What's wrong, Edward?" She smiled sweetly, cupping a perfect breast with one hand while the other toyed in areas that didn’t exist in polite conversation, much less the imagination of a studious young man whose experience with women was painfully nubile (and mainly limited to “ones who threw things at him and ones who didn’t...”). "Didn't you like it?"
Ed screamed.
And with another blast of blue-white light, Envy's stringy, pale body materialized; perched on his enemy’s bare legs and cackling like an escaped lunatic.
"Oh… Oh God… Oh Goddamn, that was priceless! You stupid bastard! You stupid, shrimpy bastard!" He slapped a black-clad thigh and clutched his ribs as Ed slowly recovered from the shock beneath him. "The look on your face! If you had your pants on – I'll bet you'd have shit them!"
Edward reacted to the observation by lunging forward, punching the homunculus first in the stomach, then across the cheekbone – knocking him off the bed. Rage had temporarily cleared his mind of the stimulants, allowing his automated response to the mockery of his stature and wounding of his pride by way of a sound pummeling to take immediate effect, and he used this to his best advantage by attacking the Sin with all the strength he could muster. For a wee short bugger, Edward Elric could muster quite a surprising amount.
"You asshole!" He seethed, leaping off the covers himself to land his foot, once again, in the Homunculus' guts. "You complete asshole... You have no shame, do you?"
Envy simply continued gasping through chortles; unable to speak if he wanted to.
"What the hell did you come here for? Just to fuck with me? Is that your idea of a joke?"
"Of course!" The Sin finally sat up, wiping tears from his eyes as Edward stood over him, glaring. "It's obvious! You're a joke, and I fucked you. Anyone would find that funny!"
There was a clap, and a flash of alchemic light, and suddenly the Sin found himself staring at the point of a halberd with a very pissed off State Alchemist at the other end.
"I know another joke that's funny" Edward growled. "What goes 'Ha-ha-ha 'bonk!’?”
"What?" Envy leant back a little, rubbing the side of the blade with his toe.
"A homunculus laughing its head off!"
Edward made to stab, but Envy kicked the weapon to one side, and flipped away from the blond – landing near the window. He snatched Edward's trousers off the chair where they'd been tossed carelessly, and slowly withdrew the watch from the right side pocket.
"You know, you've got quite a wicked sense of humor. I'd love to stay for the rest of the comedy show but, well, Gluttony loves jokes and I'd better tell him that one before I forget it."
With a grin that could cut set cement, Envy blew a kiss and jumped backwards out the window into the alleyway beyond; disappearing almost instantaneously as he morphed into a nondescript passer-by. The only thing that followed him was Edwards' ear-splitting howl of rage.
Upon stringent, hypothetical examination (for one could not examine the Gate in any tangible sense; it was as real as it wasn’t) at face value, the Gate of Worlds was simply a connector between two parallel dimensions: one, the Alpha world; where alchemy was strong and the power of it hummed through the air like electricity, and two, the Beta world; where humans overlooked 'nonsensical' practices and progressed through the advancement of technology – content in searching for the Truth by wholly scientific means. Where alchemy became labeled an ancient, yet unsuccessful endeavor to simply turn lead to gold and was put quietly back on the shelf to gather dust.
Indeed there were accomplishments of human engineering present in the first world: cars, guns, medical and military equipment and suchlike were indefinitely accounted for, however, technology in the Alpha world did not enjoy the level praise and glory it did in its twin. Mechanical advancement, steam and coal were simply other forms of power apart from alchemy; they were not as new and frightening, and they were certainly not as celebrated. However, they were put into practical use just as readily, and thus increased the steady consumption of the metaphysical energy present in the atmosphere, weakening the fabric that held the world together; pulling things apart at the strings, as it were.
In order to balance this drain, something of a see-saw effect was established: since the sole need of power in the Alpha world was far greater thanks to the many processes involved in refining the complicated nest of alchemical reactions into something your normal, everyday physics could understand as a flash of blue-white light and a sort of “sshbhuush” noise, the energy necessary to provide for the motion – right through to its complete state and final product - was “borrowed” from the second world, sort of in the way your flatmate borrows a roll of toilet paper; you’re certainly not going to get the same thing back in terms of mass and consistency, and general hygiene etiquette strongly recommends against accepting any form of reimbursements from the original product.
Naturally, this rather implied that the Beta was simply an energy store to fuel the alchemic transitions, and to be brutally honest, it really did happen to read a bit like that. When something was transmuted in the Alpha, something in the second would break or cease to work. When a human was transmuted, someone in the parallel world would die – their life energy becoming the creation for the body on the other side.
Smooth as clockwork, one might think, but it didn't always go so cleanly. In between the worlds, in the cool shadows surrounding the gate itself, lay a domain of monsters - a black, seething primordial swamp of memories, forms, and parts that were the residue of the exchanges; bits and bobs that had been bartered, but were left unused and unable to return to the one world, or pass through to another. These were informally known as the beasts of the Gate (informally, because it was rare that anyone who had managed to catch a peek at the foul little bastards – save for the tumult of reaching hands to snatch whatever was on offer. Those who might’ve managed to witness a wall of at least a thousand eyes, studded with teeth and laughing at them, probably wouldn’t have been able to write much of a formal report on their findings – were they able return in a state to write anything at all), and were a cretinous bunch of scheming, bitter creatures who fooled the alchemists into believing in the rule of 'Equivalent trade', taking the extra offerings as energy for themselves, and for the construction of the race of homunculi with all the leftover bits.
No matter how hard humans tried, souls could not be reclaimed once they had been lost; the soulless creations to whom the Gate Creatures gave life and fed back into the Alpha world for a bit of a laugh, were doomed to either die or, with the aid of the Philosopher’s stone, roam as undead, immortal abominations. Unable to live like humans but still recounting the memories of the flesh as though they were their own. And ultimately a little bit pissed about the whole show.
However, because of the extreme accumulation of energy on the Alpha side, occasionally something of a meltdown would occur. It was nothing to worry about really, just an intermediate malfunction; something par to a dropped stitch or a double yolker in the weave of the universe and was generally swept under the rug. If one can bring to mind the way in which an accountant might take an excess of funds and make them “disappear” into an assimilation of numbers, well, that was really what the Gate did with an occasional sub-atomic affluence; it would take energy as one thing, turn it around a few times and give it a knead, then send it back out as something else. The processing of power was really just a bit like baking a cake: one would take a number of very different ingredients, mash them together and come out with something quite whole. Whether it would taste good or not was entirely dependant on what foodstuffs you used, or in the case of quantum physics, how the Gate was feeling on that particular day.
Sometimes the end result was simply a new formation in the land given birth by the ocean. Sometimes it was a phenomenal storm or a baffling miracle of nature. Sometimes it was an idea, an epiphany - eureka! And sometimes, only sometimes, it was the creation of a new soul in a place where, in ordinary circumstances, a soul should never develop.
"Oh, so that's what it was for,” Envy scratched absently at his haphazard, greenish-black mop. "I thought we were just letting the bastard know where he stands."
"We don't want him coming after us before we've prepared everything," the woman continued, unaffected by her company’s contribution. "Slowing him down is the best way we can divert him without losing his interest. Lust and Sloth are doing excellent jobs in their own roles, now we only need to- are you alright?"
Dante stared as the Homunculus swayed a little on his feet; arms slowly snaking around his middle. A glazed look had come over his eyes.
"Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. Must've taken... worse hits than I figured.”
"You shouldn't play with him so much if you're going to moan afterwards." Dante scolded, loftily, but she couldn't keep curiosity from invading her voice as she noticed a slight sweat coating Envy's pale skin. She narrowed her eyes when the homunculus nodded grudgingly, bowing his head low and turning away.
"I know," he muttered, plodding out the door. "But it's worth it. He never gets to me the way I get to him."
"Is that so?" Dante whispered her gaze drifting like a smooth current as she watched her son leave the room.
Izumi winced, feeling a strong need to duck, as a rainbow of crass insults spilled from the mouth of her eldest student. They were alone in her motel bedroom; Ed needed to speak to her the moment he stepped inside the door, still shaking from his disgustingly intimate and entirely too personal encounter with the homunculus. Since Al and her husband were busy packing for their journey out of Central – where the couple had paid the brothers a short surprise visit - she was able to take the time to sit and listen; horrified at first (mostly at Envy's gall), then repulsed (once again, Envy), then relieved. Edward, formidable as he was, was liable to act upon his emotions too readily, and had the homunculus been sent to kill him, he may not have returned so unscathed. Not with the kind of mortifying distraction Envy had pulled.
"You should rest," Izumi sighed, fingering a tight braid as Ed play-acted the demise of his enemy – pretending his teacher's pillow was Envy's head, and stomping on it repeatedly. "Whatever he fed you might not have left your system and it would be better to sleep it off."
"And do you know how he did that? How he made me drink that stuff?" Ed stopped kicking the pillow, and shook a tensed index finger at it. "Pretended he was a Girl Scout selling lemonade! LEMONADE! Lemonade my ass! I'd hate to think what his cookies were made out of!”
Izumi brushed her student’s shoulder gingerly as he panted – his tantrum of pure adrenalin evaporating as he finally began to settle down.
"I thought nothing of it," he continued, huffing - his blond bangs damp and smeared across his face with sweat. "I just... bought the stuff off the girl. Y’know, she was just a girl – I figured it was fine. Winry used to do lemonade stands in Rizenbul all the time. Her stuff was bad enough, but this one – the one he gave me - was hot. I drank it anyway, and the next thing I know, I'm in this sleazy hotel room, where there's this naked woman taking my pants off, telling me she'll do anything I ask. I just... I couldn't..." Edward's anguished gesticulations, wide and slow by now – not as frantic as before – were a strong indicator of his humiliation and shame. "I couldn't say no. I don't even like that sort of thing, but I couldn't say no." He squeezed his eyes shut, and plonked down onto the bed, right hand massaging his brow. Izumi stopped patting his shoulder, and, after a moment, gave it a firm squeeze; her gaze directed somewhere out the window.
"It wasn't your fault,” she said, simply. “But you know that. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, you just have to realize they play much dirtier than you expected. You aren't hurt, that’s the main thing.” The woman eased up off the bed, and walked out the room; her sandals flopping listlessly on the floor behind her. "And get some rest," she added, before switching off the light.
Edward lay back and rolled over onto his side, kicking his boots onto the floor.
Play dirty, huh? He thought, viciously. Fine, let them, the fucking cowards! But wouldn’t it be a laugh if that Envy git wasn’t as tough as he thought he was. What if there was a way I could get him back. Make him the butt of the joke…
"I stole it off that stall over there. It's not so bad."
"Since when did you start eating things?" Lust countered.
"Since I got hungry." The green-haired homunculus shoved the last bite in his mouth, and crouched over the edge of the guttering as he surveyed the path of the brothers. Lust snorted ungraciously, watching him out of the corner of her eye; Envy’d been acting quiet strange the past few weeks or so, but this was certainly the oddest thing she'd seen him do. The sleeping she could almost understand: homunculi didn't need to sleep, but Envy had seemed to take a liking to napping a few hours every night, which was, perhaps, something to do with his age. Envy was many years her elder, and his body might have been created differently; needing rest every now and again to rejuvenate. She thought she’d heard Dante say something about him being “less refined”, whatever that was supposed to mean, but that couldn’t mean he was… what? Eroding? Expiring? Over the hill? Was that going to happen to all of them? She wasn’t sure, but Lust, being Lust, wasn't one to pry; she just fretted, unexplainably, over some very strange things. However, the eating stumped her; he’d never done that – not even for pleasure!
"Damn," Lust cursed under her breath; readying herself at the roof’s edge as the boys turned into a deserted street towards the Old Museum. "Sloth's not finished in there. They arrived faster than we expected. She was counting on them going into the store.”
"You shoulda done something about it then," Envy remarked shakily. Lust shot him a scathing look, and was rewarded by the fact that his countenance had taken on a notably nauseous tinge.
"And if we'd left it to you, Elric One and Elric Two would have found out about the choreographed the murders long ago, and be in Ishbal right now. Hurry up!" Lust leapt of the roof, landing directly in the Elric’s path – claws drawn. She didn’t really have the time to emerge all sinuous and slinky-deadly from the shadows, she had to cover Sloth’s arse.
Envy paused a moment, rubbing his wrist over his stomach,
Don't feel so good
then, he too jumped down from the guttering, and faced Ed; his smirk almost glowing with brattish glee.
"Hello, baby," he purred. "Miss me?"
Edward had quickly transmuted his Automail into a short blade at Lust’s initial confrontation; but as soon as he'd caught sight of Envy, he lunged after the Sin with a feral snarl.
"You bastard, I'll make you pay this time!"
"Oh is that so?" Envy taunted. "I thought the customers usually paid the whores – not the other way around."
"Nii-san?" Al added in a shocked voice as he held off Lust, her claws scraping horribly against the plate of his metal gauntlets. Edward ignored him.
"We'll call it a freebie, thanks to your lemonade!" He shoved forward, only just missing Envy's thinly-clad neck. The Homunculus laughed as he flipped out the way, turning somersaults and flik-flaks in between booting the ornery alchemist in the face. However, after he'd been jumping around for awhile, dodging Edward’s blade as well as several waves of curling earth that threatened to crush him, he began to feel tired; his energy spent as though he’d coughed up a couple of stones. The grin dissolved from his face as he found it increasingly harder to keep the distance between the sharp metal point of Ed's Automail and his skin. One slip, one moment of dizziness cost him dearly and with an unexpected swipe, Ed had knocked him to the ground and was aiming his blade at Envy's navel.
"I should gut you for what you did," he rumbled, sheer rage twisting his handsome features into something quite terrible. "Bet that'll take awhile to heal!"
"Go ahead!” Envy countered, not feeling quite as confident as he knew he ought to.
“Fine!”
“Fine, dickhead!”
"Oh, Edward, no!" cried Sloth, who was poised dramatically on the awning above the hardware store, obviously having finished with disemboweling the shopkeep. Ed's head snapped up to focus on the mirror of his mother's face, and he stared for a moment before quickly reminding himself that it was Sloth, not Trisha Elric. He narrowed his eyes as she descended in a spill of clear water – as though a small puddle of dew had been tipped out of the canvas - and watched as she bent down, not taking her eyes off her 'son' whilst sliding one hand between his Automail and Envy's middle.
“No? Why?” He rumbled, not moving his blade an inch. “Why shouldn’t I, huh?”
Sloth just blinked, still perfectly in character, though it wasn’t at all necessary. The shock would work just fine.
"Why? But Edward… What about the baby?"