whiskeycoffee | "Betrayals Small and Large" (Fullmetal Alchemist, Al vs. His Body, 1/1, PG-13) (Reply)

Title: Betrayals Small and Large
Author: m.jules
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references
Category: Gen, Humor
Pairings: None. Al vs. his hormones. (Though Winry, Riza, Ed and Roy are all singularly unhelpful.)
Disclaimer: All belongs to Arakawa-sensei. I'm just playing around with my favorite boy.
Author's Notes: Set manga-verse, post restoration (speculative). For my Alphonse Elric claim at

10_cliche_fics, Prompt: "Curse you (and your inevitable betrayal)!" Thanks to

cornerofmadness for helping me and for helping with the title. Dedicated to

rainyelysian who requested "horny Al" in a writing meme I did a while back. This is for her. :)

Alphonse hadn't realized how inconvenient having a teenaged body would be. Oh, he knew the science behind hormones, knew how they would betray him, but he hadn't known they'd be so damned persistent about it!

Winry, stripped down to her tube top and shorts, bending over her worktable, made him excuse himself in a cracking voice. Hawkeye, rounded breasts straining against the smooth, black fabric of the turtleneck she wore under her uniform, made him flee Mustang's ante-office for the bathroom. But the most unexpected, and possibly the worst, was Mustang himself.

Currently, Al was trapped with no way out and starting to wonder if something had gone wrong with getting his body back because it could not be natural to be this horny over Mustang. But as the older man went on and on about Ed's latest assignment - the brothers were now the official delegates of a shaky new government, helping clean up after the war - Al could feel himself becoming decidedly more uncomfortable.

He groaned and cursed inwardly. Why him? Why now? It couldn't have been any more embarrassing or inconvenient. The door opened and Hawkeye stepped in, still sans jacket, still with that black shirt clinging lovingly to her curves, just like Al would like to do, and he bit back a moan. The universe must hate him.

Ed gave him a funny look and Hawkeye paused to glance down at him as he tried to pull the edges of his long brown coat over his lap. Thank whatever gods there were he was wearing it.

"Alphonse?" Mustang asked, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm --" His voice came out strangled and he stopped, cleared his throat. "I'm fine, sir."

"Are you sure?" Hawkeye put in, reaching out to brush a hand over his forehead. He tensed and closed his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. "You feel flushed."

"No, I'm all right, I promise," he insisted, hoping his voice didn't shake.

"Alphonse, if you aren't well, you don't need to go on this assignment. Fullmetal can handle it." Mustang pushed himself up and away from his desk, coming around with a hand outstretched as if to confirm Hawkeye's diagnosis for himself. "You've been pushing yourself pretty hard since you came back from behind the Gate; you should pay attention to what your body is telling you."

Oh, this was bad, bad, bad and getting worse. Al thought desperately that he would really rather his body shut up all together, at least until a more convenient time.

"Perhaps you should --" Mustang's fingers skimmed over his forehead, following the path Hawkeye's hand had taken, and Al leaped from his chair, choking back a cry at how unexpectedly painful it was to move so quickly in his current condition.

"Excuse me," he squeaked -- squeaked! -- and dashed from the office, trying to disguise his awkward gait. He headed straight for the bathroom, ignoring Ed's worried voice calling his name. He locked himself in and leaned shakily against the sink, breathing deeply and trying to get his body to cool off without him actually having to do anything. It was too embarrassing to contemplate jerking off when there was a room full of concerned people just a short hallway away.

His body, on the other hand, had different ideas. Al groaned and put his head in his hands. His hormones must be making up for lost time, he figured. Dammit, this couldn't be normal. Still, it looked like he was going to have to give into the demands of his flesh if he was going to get out of this bathroom anytime soon, and he cast a nervous glance at the door as he carefully undid his belt buckle and then opened his pants. His hand had just closed around that troublesome body part when there was a loud pounding on the door that nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"Al! Al, are you okay!?" Ed called frantically, still tapping on the door.

"I'm fine, Brother!" Al yelled back, hoarse and choked. He stayed perfectly still; it just seemed wrong to continue his motions with Ed talking to him.

"You don't sound fine," Ed insisted. "I'm coming in."

"NO!" Al shouted as he heard Ed clap in preparation to transmute the lock. "Dammit, Ed, don't come in here!"

"Al, what's the matter?" Damn it, didn't his brother ever give up? "I've seen you sick before, you don't have to be embarrassed... if something's wrong I should know about it!"

"Nothing's wrong," Al growled through clenched teeth. "But I promise you, Ed, if you walk through that door, I'm never speaking to you again."

There was silence so heavy that Al could almost hear Ed's confusion. "Oh," Ed said finally, still sounding baffled and somewhat hurt. A pause, and then a more enlightened, "Oh!" There was the sound of muffled snickers and Al turned bright red.

"Brother," he said finally, "Go. Away."

"All right," Ed conceded, still snickering. "I'll um... I'll just... Come out whenever you're ready, Al. I'll go back to Mustang's office."

Al waited until the sound of Ed's footsteps faded down the hall and looked down at the hard flesh he had cupped in his hand. "You know," he said to it, "that was the perfect opportunity for you to get over this nonsense." But despite the fact that it seemed to have a will of its own, his penis wasn't talking back and Al felt all the more embarrassed for having actually spoken to it. "Well," he muttered, "I guess there's no way around this."

It didn't take him long and he was too relieved to be embarrassed by that. He cleaned up quickly and washed his hands, then headed back down the hall. He paused outside the door to Mustang's office, frowning. Suddenly, the idea of seeing his brother face to face wasn't what he wanted at the moment, and who knew if seeing Hawkeye and Mustang would set him off again. He glanced down at his crotch and decided he didn't want to risk it. Running for the bathroom twice in a row was a little too obvious. Making up his mind, he poked his head into the ante-room. Breda, Falman, and Fuery were sitting at their desks, pretending to work while Havoc leaned negligently against Hawkeye's desk, his crutches propped beside him. Al thought the former sniper spent more time in the office now than he had when he was actually in the military.

"Um, if you could, would one of you mind telling General Mustang that I wasn't feeling well and went home to lie down?" Al said with a pleading smile. "Tell him I'll get the details later."

"No need," came a deep, sexy voice -- the same one that had started this whole incident in the first place. Mustang stood in the open door to his office, Ed and Riza visible behind him. "I'm taking you off this assignment. Ed can handle it by himself, you need to rest."

Feeling himself flushing again, Al nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said, edging his coat closed. He wasn't sure how quickly his body could decide to misbehave again but he wasn't taking any chances.

"You might want to stop on your way home and buy tissues," Roy offered helpfully and Al felt his face go crimson. Did Roy know or was he just being nice, assuming Al was sick? "And hand lotion... it helps with the chafing."

Al's jaw dropped open and Havoc clamped a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Breda didn't bother, sitting back in his chair and laughing. Fuery just looked embarrassed. Al fumed silently, casting about for an answer to Mustang's evil smirk. Finally, Al smiled sweetly and said, "I guess you would know."

Havoc snorted and Breda guffawed, and even Fuery cracked a smile. In the office behind Mustang, Al could see Riza covering her mouth and Ed looking somewhat disgusted. Falman was pretending to ignore the entire exchange. Mustang was actually blushing. Feeling quite proud of himself, Al closed the door to the anteroom and made his way down the hall. Lotion, huh? he thought. That's probably not a bad idea.