19Title: Warmth of Lies
Author: Nostalgic5947
Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Rated: T (for Kimbley and Envy's language, and YAOI)
Disclaimer: Do you see Envy snogging Ed at the end of the series? Of course not. Is Kimbley riding Miles like a cowboy? No. I rest my case.
Summary: PREQUEL to Warmth of Snow. Semi-AU after Kimbley enters Briggs! Miles is loosing his wife. Confused, he turns to an unlikely aid and takes advantage of it. Is he being honest with himself or lying? MilesKimbley, Envy+Kimbley (friendship), hints to one-sided EdEnvy
Key:
'Miles' thoughts.'
'Kimbley's thoughts.'
"Speech."
emphasis.
EMPHASIS.
*"Quotes from the past."*
'Unbelievable…'
Oscar Miles, Major of Amestris' Briggs, scowls up at the ceiling above him. He is in his room, the dark neck of some alcoholic beverage being strangled in his frustrated hold. Blood red eyes drift momentarily down to the opened envelope laying innocently on the Major's desk. He glares at it murderously.
'Why?'
Miles grabs the envelope and tosses it into the bin. At the last second, his hand twitches, throwing the projectile off course. It lands with a flop by the door. The dark skinned man stares at it for a moment before sighing tiredly. He takes a swing of the strangled bottle, distressed mind not registering the taste or flavor of the liquid. When he slumps back into his desk chair, he still does not know what he is drinking.
'How long has this been going on?'
Blood colored eyes close as tanned fingers rub the corners of the Major's eyes near his nose. He sighs quietly to himself, listening to the howling wind outside his window. Briggs is demanding his, and everyone else's, attention with another blizzard, rattling window panes and bending trees with angry and presumptuous winds. Miles obeys in the hopes that the storm will distract him from the official notice and two-worded letter from his wife.
'Ex-wife,' he mentally corrects. Miles swallows thickly. He brings the dark neck up again.
Knock. KNOCK.
Miles jumps, almost spilling alcohol on himself. Blood red eyes open and stare at the door in alarm. They travel to the envelope on the floor. Miles quickly gets up to retrieve it before allowing the person to enter. As luck would have it, while in his worst state in a decade (he was really bad during and right after the Ishbalan War), none other than Zolf J. Kimbley would choose to bug him.
The Crimson Alchemist lets himself in, off-white suit clean and impeccable as always. Miles' luck never seems to hold when this man is around. Kimbley quickly notes several things about the situation; one is the envelope by his foot.
Softly closing the door, Kimbley kneels and picks up the clump of paper. He quietly makes his way to Miles, stopping at the man's desk and setting the bundle down. He does not look at it. Instead, he looks at Miles, standing warily in his own room as though it were a lion's den or a snake pit. Kimbley smiles.
"Lovely day, no?" He studies the man's expression, noting the disdain (oddly not for Kimbley but for what his words imply) and desperation on his face. "Is Briggs always this noisy?" he asks, hoping to strike a conversation. He is here for a reason, after all.
Miles shrugs, taking a seat at the desk again. He does not know why Kimbley is here nor does he know why he has yet to push him out. He is tired and his mind is reeling. He wants to understand his situation but he can't. He just does not understand his wife. He does not understand what he did WRONG.
Did he do something wrong?
He is not even sure. He does not think so. Maybe it is true: he should be at home more, he should have a little more space in his wife's life, he should care that she is not satisfied.
Maybe she should care that neglect is no reason to go around fu-
"I will take that as a yes."
Miles blinks and stares at Kimbley confusedly for a moment. What was he-? O right: the weather. Miles nods distractedly.
Kimbley frowns slightly. This is not as amusing as he had hoped it would be. Judging from his time under the mutt's care, Kimbley had assumed that stepping into his territory with the air of ignorance (or something similar) would annoy the man. All Kimbley seems to be doing now, however, is annoying himself.
Well, DAMN.
The Alchemist pretends to not be bothered with this. Instead, he walks around the room, still hoping to draw a reaction from the other man. He takes off his hat, planning to be here a while, and sets it on the nightstand table beside the bed. Next to where he places his hat sits a picture frame. Idly, he studies it.
Miles and a woman.
Kimbley suddenly remembers last week, when he had made a faux call to the Führer. He was actually calling a different Homunculus to request information on the members of Briggs.
Envy did not disappoint-he never does.
'This must be the wife I read about…' Kimbley thinks to himself, silently thanking Envy for fulfilling his request. Gold eyes dim slightly as another thought crosses his mind, the same thought he had when he first found out about Miles being married: 'He is already taken.'
He repeats that to himself as he turns to see the man staring at him.
Another thought comes, unbidden: 'Is he drunk?'
"Why are you here?" Miles finally asks. He does not bother to hide the dark necked bottle in his hand; rather, he sets it on his desk, on top of the envelope, and turns to face the Alchemist.
Kimbley shrugs, "It is your job to watch over me." The man smiles slightly, "I am merely making sure you do not get in trouble."
Miles eyes him incredulously. A dozen rebuttals run through his mind but, in the end, he just says, "… Right…" His crimson eyes return to his alcoholic beverage and he idly wonders if he can get Kimbley drunk and drop him off in his own room. He quickly waves the thought off as he realizes that would require actually TOUCHING the other male.
He would like to avoid that, thanks.
Kimbley smiles as he watches the irritation flicker across the mutt's face. He decides that Miles is cute when grumpy. He then decides that when he gets the chance, he will have to Homunculus-nap Envy and orchestrate a long night of drunken confessions to stave off this sudden inane interest he seems to have acquired in the other human. Dimly, he wonders what confessions the Sin would have. Probably something to do with him staring so intently at Edward Elric.
One of these days, Kimbley is going to have to sit the ancient down and explain to him just WHAT that fluttering feeling in his stomach is and just WHY he can never seem to stay calm when the older Elric is around.
Then again: Envy would have to do the same to him.
Kimbley turns away to hide his sudden scowl. Envy is in love with Full Metal (or at least really attracted to him). That is fine (it is not: it is dangerous and heartbreaking-but so is everything ELSE in their (pseudo-) lives so it really does not matter). Kimbley being in love with Miles? Well, one: he is NOT. Two: That is not fine. At all.
"You were given your own room for a reason, Alchemist."
Why Miles calls him that is beyond Kimbley, but in all honesty, he likes it better than when Greed calls him "Crimson". And it sounds better from Miles than it ever did from Frank Archer, the cold-blooded ass.
"And if I like yours better?" The mad bomber tosses back nonchalantly. He is eyeing the bed which, unlike the one in his temporary room, is dressed in dark blue covers with a thick black quilt. It looks so inviting…
"All rooms are the same if the rank is. We gave you a Major's room so it is the same as mine." Miles sighs tiredly. He eyes the drink longingly but acknowledges that it is a bad idea to get drunk in front of this man (he is not even sure Kimbley is human; he is just THAT nuts). He conveniently forgets that he is already just that: completely hammered.
Why ELSE would Kimbley's ass look so good.
O FUCK.
Miles shakes his head. Alcohol always loosened his back and his mind but knotted his tongue; he wife ('EX-wife.') always found that amusing. Then again: so had his drinking buddies.
"The bed looks like a hospital's," Kimbley calmly complains (the man is a walking oxymoron!). "I like this one better." And with that, the Alchemist is reclining on Miles' bed, shoes off and pale gray jacket tossed to the bed frame by his feet which are on the sheets and crossed at the ankles.
Miles' eye twitches.
"Yes, I like my bed too," he says, giving slight emphasis on the fact that it is HIS. "I also like sleeping on it. Alone."
Kimbley quietly gestures to the picture frame, "That says otherwise."
"That is-"
"Your wife."
"EX-wife; thank you."
For a moment, gold eyes stare in shocked happiness before Kimbley quickly masks his joy. Envy will have to listen to him rant about 'It' (God, Ishbala, The World, etc.) dangling a now SINGLE Miles under his nose and just out of reach.
Envy is gonna kill him.
"Ex?" Kimbley treads carefully, trying to be uncaring. He wants to see how resent this new development is. And if it can be used.
"Yes," the Major replies tersely. He says nothing else.
'It is resent then. VERY resent.' That explains why he had not known and why Envy had not told him. It also means that Miles is still unavailable. (Hey, Kimbley is a killer not a rapist; he likes consensual sex-sex because ever since his own ex-wife, he has been very wary about letting others close. Why, then, is he so close to Envy? Simple: Envy is… well: ENVY.)
Gold eyes drift to the bottle and its make-shift coaster, "Is that what those papers are?" Kimbley freezes as rage filled, crimson eyes glare at him. "Ah…" He nods to himself and looks away, gold eyes skittishly staring out the window. He tries to ignore his erratic heartbeat. The room goes silent.
Miles takes this time to study the Alchemist from his seat by the desk. He allows his eyes to drunkenly trace the pale man's cheek bones, sunken and ashy face, strong jaw, smooth throat, petruding but almost delicate collar bo-What. The. FUCK.
Panicky, Miles takes a swing of the dark necked bottle. Only after two mouthfuls does it register that his action will only make things worse. He mentally swears: colorfully.
The silence continues.
The wind outside finally ceases rattling the windows. Now, it just howls. Kimbley is still staring out the window though, mind blank for once. He welcomes it; years of war and the military had made it natural for his mind to think rapidly, thus making his brain constantly filled with chemicals and decompositions that normally leave him spent and none-alcoholically hung-over. Those headaches are a bitch. And they make him a bitch, as Envy so often tells him rather cheerfully.
Yeah; Envy is gonna get an earful later. Then, when Kimbley has finally calmed down, the Sin will probably kill the Alchemist. O, the joy of their twisted friendship.
A sigh breaks the silence. Kimbley glances over to see Miles tossing out the now empty bottle of… whatever alcohol it was. The younger man's glassy eyes stare tiredly at the wall and Kimbley wonders if the Major is any good at holding liquor. He somehow doubts it.
He tucks that little titbit away.
Miles' bleary eyes drift to him and for a moment, Kimbley worries about the man being a violent or angry drunk. When the mutt stands and drags his feet to the bed, Kimbley wonders why he was ever (and it really pains and embarrasses him to admit this) intimidated by Miles before.
Is it his blood? (Ishbalans are volatile, after all-look at Scar.) His age? (Kimbley is so OLD now; he knows that even if he had been able to stay in shape nothing would change the fact that he is of retiring age.) His HEIGHT? (God awful thing THAT is; the Major's a bloody TOWER.) Maybe it is just his eyes-those freaky red piercing bright eyes that seer Kimbley's skin and soul.
Maybe.
Could be all those things.
Who really cares?
Kimbley sure doesn't, not when aforementioned Major is ON TOP OF HIM.
"Ah… M-Miles…" Kimbley curses himself for stuttering as he gently prods the younger male on top his person. Miles groans throatily and buries his face into Kimbley's neck. "Ah." The Alchemist blinks, pausing as a pleasured shiver runs up his spine. His face flushes as the Major relaxes drunkenly against him.
O this is BAD.
Kimbley shifts, trying to roll over so Miles will fall on the bed and therefore off of him. The mutt grumbles into his neck and suddenly hugs Kimbley, sighing contently when the man freezes and stops trying to dislodge him. Miles drifts into a light sleep to the erratic sound of Ishbalan drums.
Posted: April 13