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I couldn't help it! TT_TT It's cute... (Don't kill me, Wrath-haters.)

I'm the only person I know of so far to write this pairing. I hope to inspire more love. tongue.gif

We'll start off first with an intro micro-drabble (Aka, the crap-filler-drabble), and then after you skip through read that one, I'll try to post the better stuff.

Ummm... spoilers, fluff, mild AU-ness occasionally, and projections of an older, more mature Alphonse, and Wrath. (Wrath? Mature? Omgwtfbbqimpossible!) etc. .__.

"When Brother was Gone"

When brother was there, Al always took his side. He couldn't help it. He was, after all, his only big brother, and Alphonse loved him more than he loved anything else in the world. It was only natural that they had to protect each other at all costs, and that meant against everyone else.
When brother was there, Alphonse would not hesitate to attack Wrath if need be. He was a homunculus; He had stolen Brother's limbs; He wouldn't bat an eye if he had to take the rest of his body. The normally demure Elric could not let such things happen, no matter how merciful his nature. That was the way things were when Brother was there.
But when Brother was gone, Al could not help but pity the child.

"First Kiss"

Alphonse's mother kissed him very often when he was young. She would kiss him on the cheek before sending him off to kindergarten, and catch his struggling brother for one, while their friends giggled. She would kiss him on the forehead when he did something that made her proud, like completing a good transmutation, or cleaning up his room without being asked. She kissed his scrapes when he hurt, and she kissed his lips before she tucked him into bed at night, and sometimes, as he helped her with the cooking, and got himself so covered in flour that his adorableness was utterly irresistable, she would pinch his chin, and kiss him on the nose, the only clean part on his face.

Being kissed by Wrath was not like being kissed by his Mother. He was surprised, at first, when the violet eyed boy who had normally been completely mean to him when they encountered each other on his visits to the Rockbells, had told him, with a profuse blush, that he wanted to go for a walk. He was shocked to have Wrath slip his automail hand into his own flesh hand, and stop beneath the plum tree in the backyard, where he could remember having played as a child. He was almost a little scared by the foreign feeling of Wrath's lips pressed against his; he froze, his heart fluttering, and confusedly wondered exactly what had just happened. He felt apprehensive, worried, even a little bit ashamed; all things that felt alien to him; he'd never felt that when Mother kissed him.

Yet, there was a tiny hint of warmth he felt, as Wrath's hands held on to his. Warmth... was definitely a feeling he could understand.

It was the first kiss, but only the first of many.


"Hey Wrath?'


"Let's have a baby."

The comment would have caused Wrath to fall off the couch completely, if Alphonse hadn't been curled on his chest to stake him down. He spluttered as though he were choking on something, which was only worsened by the weight on his torso that bounced with each tremor, and finally managed to cough out,

"A b-baby?"

"Yeah," Al replied, nuzzling against Wrath's neck, his completely calm and normal self.

"B-but, well, you know how- we can't exactly- you know we're both-"

"I don't mean that way," Al said propping himself up to gaze into Wrath's eyes, "I mean- we should adopt a baby." Wrath was still staring at Alphonse as though he'd grown another head.

"But why?" Wrath asked, as Al pouted and shifted a bit, beginning to twirl some of Wrath's dark hair between his fingers.

"Well, why not? Don't you think it would be so nice?" Al blushed as he continued dreamily, "A nice cute, soft and cuddly baby... to take care of, and raise, and teach, and hug, and comfort when he cries, and be proud of when he's good, and bring to school, and-"

"Don't get so far ahead. I mean- a baby's a really big commitment."

"I know. But we can commit. I think we'd be good parents."

"Bu- but that's not all! There's money involved, right? Lots of it. And a house, and-"

"Well, if I keep teaching for a while longer, I'll be able to make more, and you're pulling in a little as well. Then, well, I guess we'd need to get a new house..."

"-I like this house!" Wrath interjected, desperately, "And we're too young. You're only twenty four-"

"Twenty five next month-" Al pointed out, "Come on. Don't you think we can make a few sacrifices for the sake of raising a happy child?" Al began kissing wrath gently on the cheek, " We could adopt from Xing, or Ishbal; some poor baby who needs parents, and we could provide that." Al moved his affectionate pecks down the blushing Wrath's jaw and to his neck. Being kissed by Al was so nice... no!; he had to stay focused!

"Uh- ah- I don't think we're ready!" He stammered, trying not to be distracted by Alphonse's wicked wiles, "Just, not now. Isn't there anything else you could take care of? For the time being?"

Al pulled back and twisted his lip in dissappointment, "Like what? A new cat?"

"Yes! Cat! Good!" Wrath exclaimed, "Cat would be nice."

Al's agate eyes dimmed as he thought this over, and finally gave in with a sigh,

"I guess a new cat would be alright for now." Al resigned, snuggling back against Wrath.

Wrath exhaled deeply, quite certain that his heart had nearly stopped for a moment there, and didn't notice the smug smirk that tweaked Al's peaceful expression.

(He would be able to take Mittens out of hiding now...)
That's a nice idea, x3 I haven't heard of Al/Wrath (until now) and your drabbles were CUTE! XD You should write more. :3
Sankyuu, Meo. There's plenty more where that came from. happy.gif

More, angst, uberfluff, and all that good shizz. Possible implications of Envy/Wrath.


Al had learned bits and pieces of exactly what it really meant to be a homunculus during the periods of time when Wrath came for maintenence. In spite of all of the cryptic allusions and theories the books he'd read offered, it seemed to be a relatively normal existence; He ate (quite barbarically at that), had an above average temper, considerable strength, and a reluctance to go to bed on time or be forced to bathe that was perfectly healthy for a headstrong boy his age. He even had a friend, or so Al was lead to believe that was what the gangly young man who called himself Envy was. Al had seen him only once, and briefly, as it was apparent from the Sin's condescending leer that he had no interest in waiting around to converse. Envy had angrily insisted that he and Wrath stay together, since they were the same kind, and took the boy home, wherever this 'home' was.

One remarkable thing about the homunculus that the younger Elric noted with his keen eye for detail, was that he had the ability to heal himself from injury. He'd seen Wrath graze his knee, stab his finger with a butter knife, cut his bare toe on an unfortunately placed rock in the front yard, and while nobody else noticed, a small zap of white light over the wounds saw the injury completely gone, skin renewed and flawless. While most of those who deal with rowdy boys would praise the heavens for such a blessed load off their mind, such an ability to hide drew Al's concern, and made him pay more attention. His worry was not needless; as Wrath continued to return, and pretend everything was fine, there was something wrong. Even without scars and gashes flawing Wrath's unnaturally snowy skin, deep within his angered violet eyes, there was an injury. The bruises evaporated with ease from his arms and legs, but they could not deteriorate from the pained amethyst rings that still tried to glare angrily and hide their own betrayal.

Al confronted him, calmly, out of the blue, as Wrath, who had grown accustomed to the Elric boy's presence, was lying against a tree in the Rockbell's backyard.

"Envy... hurts you, dosen't he?" Al asked. Wrath stiffened, shocked at the sudden pinpoint suggestion, but instead of lashing out in denial as Al had expected him to, he rolled his gaze away sadly, and muttered,

"He dosen't mean to..." Al stared at the saddened child, trying to figure out how to ask further, as the young sin grumbled, "He's just mad alot. He lost his powers in that place. We both did. That's why he needs me."

"Wrath," Alphonse edged closer, worriedly as Wrath's gaze trailed further away than his voice,

"We're both nothing now. He needs me..."

Al closed Wrath in a protective hug, and the sin, resistant at first, quickly fell limp, collapsing against the boy's embrace, sobbing for all the long lost tears he left unshed.

For that moment, he didn't have to keep pretending to be strong.


It wasn't really gray, but black and white threads intertwined. Wrath fingered the tattered knot at one end of the blanket, and rolled the yarn between his fingers, following them back to the base, where they were tied and knitted into a greater design. He hadn't noticed the color before, but was mesmerised by it now; the dependency and symbiance of black against white, white against black. They leaned, fused against eachother in a dependent lock, strong when united, and simply flimsy threads when the other was yanked away. It was perfect balance, just the way Al was perfectly shaped against him, beneath the same blanket, Wrath's arms encircling him, Al's fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea. They didn't need to speak, but Al looked back and smiled, and Wrath kissed his neck, knowing that he couldn't be whole any other way but like this.

After all, without Al, never would have thought to take up the passtime of sitting on the floor, just watching the stars out the window.


Wrath hadn't understood sleep in the beginning. From the early days, before he regained his memory and earned his name, he simply saw sleeping humans and disinterestedly assumed them to be dead, wondering only how to make up for the loss of playmates. After he lost his limbs, and his supply of red stones dwindled, he found himself preferring to nap and rest after long periods of activity, but had never really needed or craved sleep as other people did. Staying with Alphonse, he learned to comprimise his anxious nature, and began conditioning himself in the habit of sleeping at night, just as everyone else did.

It was easy to learn, however he still didn't need it, and thus often spent bored hours awake, as Al slept curled against him, and that was when Wrath made the most trivial and yet rich of tiny discoveries. Alphonse Elric, in spite of how cherubic and serene he appeared in his sleep, would snore. It wasn't especially loud, nor was it grotesquely unappealing, but in his rhythmic sleeping breath, the sound was just so faintly porcine, that Wrath often had to clap a hand over his own mouth until his giggles ceased to tremor in the squeaky mattress springs. Al, with his mouth ever so slightly agape, and serenading the silent room with his sleeping song was a sight so adorable, yet so ridiculously comical, and Wrath found his vicious side tempted to make a joke out of it by grabbing a wisp of blanket fuzz and sneaking it into Al's parted lips. He was able to resist temptation, though, and politely, he moved a finger under Al's chin, pushing his jaw up and closing his mouth. He never told Al about his snoring. He just couldn't bring himself to. It was one of those things that he delighted in knowing in secret, and was just one of those topics that most couples choose to omit from each other by tacit agreement.

By similar unspoken truce, Al would never reveal his secret knowledge that Wrath still sucked his thumb.
I'm double posting... I feel so lame gettin no replies. ;_;

C'mon, you know you like 'em!

(Also contains Al/Winry.)

Growing Up

Wrath got a job because he didn't want to be left owing anything to anyone. Automail equipping just happened to be one of the most expensive procedures existing in the human world, and seeing that the girl had been willing to let him have it free of charge when she hadn't even offered that service to her best friend, made him sick. He wouldn't have what little was left of his pride damaged by charity.

He took up an apprenticeship in construction; seeing as that was the only occupation he could find that he might stand a chance at, noting his lack of experience in just about everything. Further than that, though, after having lost his ability to use alchemy, it felt good to be able to make things with his own hands. After having lost essentially all of himself, he wanted to at least believe he could do something worthwhile.

He bought an apartment; not for need of a place to sleep, but only for the sake of not rousing suspicion in the humans who had so recently become unavoidably entwined in his life, and for need of a place from which to mail his automail payments back to Rizenbul.

Every week, Wrath would take the end of a worn down pencil, and make a slash mark just above his head against the wall by his doorpost. He spent hours, often, just staring at the small line of hashes against the whitewashed wall, ascending the wall little by little. It wasn't only that the lines signified his inevitable need of an eventual adjustment in his prostheses, and would require another debt, and another trip to Rizenbul, but there was the lingering question in his mind. It engulfed his consiousness for long periods of time, as he gazed listlessly at the marks, wondering why. Things weren't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to age. He should have been immortal; he'd been told so. He feared hopelessly that maybe he'd lost all of his essential being as a homunculus, that maybe little by little he was turning human. He was growing, healing slowly, needing food, warmth, rest; it all frightened him to death.

To death... yes, that was what he feared. He knew that that was what awaited him at the end of the sick human cycle of life. He was moving, hurtling toward an inevitable end and he had no control over it. Suddenly, days had a heavy value; the ticking of a clock was no longer an insignificant bother; it represented another second, another minute, another hour lobbed off of his no longer extended existence. It represented another bit of time lost into the void, another second gone from what now was meant to pass for a normal life. The marks on his wall weren't just a growth record; they were his life sentence- no- his death sentence.

It wasn't the thought of dying that terrified him; it was of dying alone.

But then, that was how he was born, wasn't it?

A Special Place

The first priority was to stay away from Central, or any other large city for that matter. The last thing he needed if he was going to settle ,even temporarily, was a place where scholars and alchemists, who could easily identify him, were abundant. Which is why he decided on the little one-horse town in the middle of nowhere as he did. More importantly, though, it was half-way between Dublith and Rizenbul, which made it much easier for one traveling Elric to make special visits.

He had much difficulty getting used to human company, but swallowed down his fears and contempt to do what he had to. He had retained his penchant for eating often, that habit which had earned the teasing of his elder siblings, and thus made sure his apartment was not only near to work, but by the market as well. Seeing as he had little talent for cooking, he didn't scout the market so frequently as he did the various restauraunts in the village. He searched, and tried to fight against his tendency for forgetting details, and in time had memorized all the important locations for finding a good meal. He even discovered he had a particular liking for Xing cuisine, and chalked that up in his mind so he could remember to take out Alphonse, who had a love for exotic food.

He kept all the important places in mind; parks, shops, cafes, things that people would normally think to see. He had one special place however, that he kept in mind. Just a small spot he passed often on his way to work; a place where the river ran into a slow stream, and ducks swam past, eyeing pedestrians in hope of some charity bread crumbs. It wasn't the ducks that interested him, though (no matter how their pitiable begging reminded him of Al's stray cats); it was the perfectly sized spot underneath the quaint wooden bridge, where he and Al could sneak away to kiss in secret (and ignore the bugs.)

Photo Album

Wrath hated the photo album. It was full of pictures that hurt him, made him angry, because they were all of people he recognized and wished he didn't. Pictures of their mother, soft, loving, beautiful; a perfect mother, the one he wanted to have so badly, and almost had. Pictures of their master, strong, cold, strict and authoritatve, but with each snapshot, a layer was peeled from her steely exterior to reveal the protectiveness and sympathy she harbored for the two boys, the way a good mother would. He would have rather only remembered the worst things about her; that she was cruel and heartless, and essentially a bad person. That would have made it easier for him. The idea that the person who left him to rot in hell could be good, kind, right... it terrified him. Made him fear he really was a monster. That he deserved to remain in the darkness forever. All those deep emotions were churned up just from a single candid shot of that woman putting a bandage on her student...

He hated seeing Ed when he'd been young, healthy, with all his limbs, and with all the people who cared about him, not because he was jealous, but because he felt guilty. He had wanted to take Edward's life from him, and now seeing it all laid out before him reminded him that he didn't deserve to exist half as much as the elder Elric had, and yet he still defiled the world with his being, and Edward was nowhere to be found.

Alphonse loved the photo album, and Wrath knew this. He loved it because it was his only link to his lost years, his past, his brother. Because Al needed it so much, Wrath sat through every venture through the photo album and tried to pretend that it didn't make him sad.

But it still killed him a little every time.


She held his hand gently. Wrath could have done that. He would have given him one normal hand, and one cold harsh metallic hand, but would have held on gently no less.

She slipped a ring on his finger. Wrath could have done that too. Granted, he didn't have much money, or many other worldy posessions of his own for that matter, no business set up or inheritance money for fancy frills as she had, but he could have managed. He could have gotten a ring, cheaper, but no less well intentioned and given it to him with more enthusiasm and dedication than anyone could have ever imagined seeing him display.

She kissed him as the priest announced the obligatory 'I now pronounce you man and wife'. Wrath could have done that too. He could have, and would have, done that every single day, if only he'd had the courage. True, he hadn't any experience, but that didn't hinder his devotion, his resolve to try, to practice, to get better just so he could give Al that wonderful fuzzy emotion that can only come from the perfect kiss.

She gazed into his eyes, an image of beauty clad in white, and swore to protect him forever; to be his soul mate for all eternity. Wrath, as much as he wished, and hoped, and fought against the truth, could not promise that.
the new ones are different from the first ones, arent they? the first ones were cute, and kinda silly, but the new ones arent really Al/Wrath any more. however i likes them just the same, maybe even a little more.
QUOTE(Infinitesimi @ Jul 15 2005, 08:53 AM)
the new ones are different from the first ones, arent they?  the first ones were cute, and kinda silly, but the new ones arent really Al/Wrath any more.  however i likes them just the same, maybe even a little more.

You kidding? Aside from "Growing", they're all big honking Al/Wrath.

"Losing You" (Aka Toby's miserable attempt at dialogue)

"I just... can't believe you would do something like this, Al. It's so senseless. It's irresponsible. It's..."

"Brother, I-"

"It's disgusting!"

Al drew back, the hurt apparent on his face.

"Do you think I'm disgusting, Brother?"

"That's not what I meant," Edward said, words tinged with remorse. He hadn't meant to say it like that, but there was no other way he could think of to convey his pandemonious thoughts. This was wrong! It was all wrong! This was Al he was talking to. Al! It was a self-defining word in his mental dictionary. Al had always just been Al, and always would be. Now in only a few years of absense it almost felt like that Al had slipped away into something different. Edward couldn't make sense of it; the thought of falling in love with another man struck him as, to put the simplest of terms on it, weird. With him, of all people! If there was this part of Al that was hidden, what else was there for him not to know?

"Brother, I don't think you're being fair. What if it were someone else?"

"That's not the point, here."

"What if it were Winry?"

"Winry never tried to kill us, Al!"

"... You know I don't remember anything from then."

"That's why it's all the more dangerous! I don't want you getting hurt."

"But he's changed, Brother! People change!"

"He's hardly even human!"

"You don't even know him!"

"I know enough! I'm telling you this for your own good."

"Do you really feel that way, Brother? Or are you afraid that I might really love him?"

There it was. The truth; plain, and undisguised and straight from the mouth of his brother who had always posessed wisdom beyond his years. Most people would have taken offense and become emotional; yelled, retorted, gone overboard. Not Al. And yet, even if he was supposed to have lost all those years of growing; there was some smidgen of maturity he had retained; no- gained. This wasn't the insecure ten-year old he had lost in the gate in a fateful night of tears and blood, nor was it the selfless armored boy who had given himself up in order to save his brother. They were all the pieces same Al; but this one had grown just a step further. He had grown up, and Edward had missed it. Worse still, he had gotten to be there to see it happen; Ed had never been so jealous.

"Do you really love him?"

"Yes. I honestly do."

Those were the words of a person, who in spite of his age, knew what he meant when he said them. It was still Al.

"I don't want to lose you, Al."

Alphonse drew himself against his brother in an unashamed embrace.

"You haven't."

"Photo Album" made me kinda sad, but I liked "A Special Place". Cuteness!! ^__^
They're...they're...really good. Really emotional. I don't know what to say besides that.
"Just Like Him" (Whee for implied Moofy/Ed!)

"You look just like him," said Wrath, tentatively shifting onto his prosthetic leg. Alphonse turned from his suitcase and gave him a warm smile, that in spite of the young Elric's otherwise perfect textile imitation, definitely did not belong to Edward. The more Al stared at him, the more he felt his mind was being looked through, and he grew nervous.

"What?" he said, irritably.

"You liked Brother, didn't you?" Said Al.

Wrath hated the way Al was always so right about things.

"Wh-what makes you think-... I hated hi-"

"Don't worry. It's not a bad thing." Al said, pleased that the suspicions he had collected over time had proven true.

Wrath sighed defeatedly, and looked away. He really didn't like to be reminded of that embarassing little time in his life; the time when the world was so simple, and he had been so dumb. Before the stones, and before the homunculi, and before things had been so damned complicated, he hadn't understood what those new strange feelings meant, but he was happy about them. He had been happy about most everything. He bet that the 'First Crush' most people went on so fondly about hadn't been nearly as complex as it had for him.

Without a word, Al drew closer, and pressed his forehead against the boy's, lifting a gloved hand to his cheek. Rather than rejecting it as he would have wanted to, Wrath leaned into the unbidden touch, savoring the relief he found from the simple idea of not being rejected.

"I may not be like my brother," Al said, taking up Wrath's fist against his chest, "But I hope you can accept me as myself."

Wrath just nodded and embraced him.
Phyco girl
T.T Sooo... cute... Must have more!!! @_____@
*smiles happily* It's so cute! Kya!
Izumi angst gets thrown into the mix! Yay!

This one is ooc times 'finity. biggrin.gif Actually, I like to call it, not 'ooc', just... really far-fetched character development that might have occured.

Fun Fact: I actually started crying while creating this. I win the lameness award. sleep.gif

"I'm not human; I'm not your son," He said, glaring intently out the window, "But I'm not one of 'them' anymore either. Whatever in-between thing that makes me, I'm not your sick little creation anymore. I'm my own monster."

Izumi looked up suddenly at the surprisingly poignant way he had decided to break their silence. With all the years and anymosity that had built up behind this inevitable meeting, there had startlingly been no violence from the creature who had once been cripplingly blinded by the hate he harbored for the woman who created him. The spark of a long held grudge still hung in his gaze, but it seemed as though his fury had been softly leeched away over the years replacing it with something that almost resembled human patience. That was... unexpected.

He waited as though to let her speak. Unsure of what to call him by, she began akwardly,

"I had never-"

He had already interrupted,

"Never what?" He shut his eyes, his hands curling into fists, "Never meant to make me? Never meant to abandon me? Never loved me?"

"I had tried..." For one rare time in her life, she was unsure of the right words to say; she was shocked at the near-civility of this encounter; the sudden... eloquence that this one called Wrath had suddenly drawn up seemed to pull away all of her own.

"But you failed, didn't you? You failed, and you didn't want to remember that. You didn't want to believe that you created something so awful. So much that you even pretended to love me, until you realized I could never be perfect."

"That's not-"

"Don't try to play innocent! You would have sent me to rot in hell without a second thought! I should have killed you for what you did to me. But what if I did? Then I would have still just been a monster. I wouldn't have been any better than you. So I changed. And he helped me."


"Al is nothing like you," Wrath said, gritting his teeth, "He knew I was a monster and loved me in spite of it. He knew I coculd change; he still believes I can get better. And I love him. I love him more than a bitch like you could ever understand." With that, he had left the room, his eyes brimmed with the tears of restrained scorn.

It could never be 'right' between the two of them, but perhaps... so long as they both still loved the one who connected them, something small would be forgiven.
God, I loved it, Toby! So much angst for poor Izumi but that's true Wrath didn't deserve this! And it was so sad! I understand you cried! You're a great author! Keep up the good work because this pairing definitly needs more attention!
Nice one, Toby-chan! Keep writing!
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