"So how did this happen again, son?"

Russel tried very hard not to look at me and I tried very hard not to look guilty. I don't think it worked because the doctor was looking suspiciously at me. Rus waved off the question and laughed, "Oh, my fault. I was excited about a new idea and I managed to forget that grabbing Ed when he's grumpy and tired is a bad idea. Fighter's instinct you know, and since we spar all the time so his instinct really doesn't check me as someone to treat like glass like he does with—" the doctor sighed and made another stitch, "—ow!"

"Are you sure you don't want to file a complaint?" he asked while glaring at me pointedly. I glared back.

Russel started to shake his head and then remembered that a needle was a few centimeters from his eye. "Hey like I said. I mean, the only reason he reacted like that is because I grabbed him and he was already testy because some idiot was saying stupid stuff without thinking, and we were both tired so neither of us knew better. Honest. Look how bad he feels about nothing!"

I sunk lower in the chair and mumbled, "Five stitches isn't nothing."

"Pfft," he scoffed. "Remember when I went a bit too far in practice and managed to seriously bruise your ribs? I don't know how I didn't crack them but even just bruised it was a month before you stopped holding yourself funny." He looked back at the doctor and told him in earnest "I really am being honest. We bruise each other all the time sparring. That's how we met actually."

I tried to bury a snort. Yeah, sparring. That's a good euphemism for us trying to kill each other in Xenotime.

The doctor didn't look all that convinced but he stopped pushing Russel to press charges. To be honest I was on the doc's side; no matter how pissed and upset and confused I was I should not have lashed out with my auto-mail. Carelessness with a metal limb can do as much if not more damage than actually trying to hurt people with it. I could have shattered my best friend's jaw and cheek with that blow.

Best friend, the phrase floated up in my mind. Followed shortly by a word that made me blush like a schoolgirl: Boyfriend.

I still wasn't completely convinced that I wasn't having some bizarre nightmare. The main thing that had me believing it was reality was the fact that the universe generally did hate me this much. Sometimes I wondered if whatever consciousness controlled the Gate could screw with reality without the help of some fool alchemist trying to go against nature more than usual. Even Al had doubts about the Gate being somehow sentient, and generally the idea would be the kind of thing I would dismiss as well. But it took Izumi-sensei's ability to have more children in order to resurrect her stillborn baby and it castrated Scar's brother when he tried to bring back his lover. On the few occasions we talked about this Al would point out that the price I paid didn't have any meaning, completely missing the fact that he was the price I paid: family for family. Hell, even the fact that I lost an arm and a leg could be some sick joke. And anything that twisted could probably find a way to screw with people, particularly people who have a connection to it.

Even inside my own head it sounded paranoid and stupid. Not the part about the Gate being sentient, but the idea of blaming all the crap in my life on it. If it was the case or if it wasn't there was still only one thing I could do, and that's to deal with things as they came.

Very philosophical… I thought with self-directed sarcasm so thick the doctor could probably taste it. Now maybe instead of worrying about the cause of things I can actually look at the problem and figure out what to do about it.

I glared at the problem. Russel grinned back and was scolded by the doc for it.

Disbelief and my own irrational hopes and fears aside, where do we go from here? He wouldn't suggest this unless he was sure of it himself, at least, as sure as he can be without further tests... I need to spend less time at the lab. Regardless, he could think he's attracted to men but maybe he's just not not-attracted? Some sort of neutral state where maybe he's fine with kissing but anything below the waist would still make him uncomfortable. Is there a way to test that?

I blushed in spite of myself and very carefully didn't look at Russel.

A way to test besides the obvious. I don't think there is. So the only way to prove to him that this is a bad idea is to get him into bed. That won't backfire at all...

"Hey, Ed, come on!"

I started and realized that I had gotten a little too introspective and lost touch with reality. The doctor had finished with the bandaging and was holding the door open for us. He was still glaring at me. Russel was leaning over me and I took the opportunity to examine the damage. It wasn't as bad as I thought with only two stitches and one butterfly closure. It was still more than should have been there.

"I'm sorry, Rus, I shouldn't have-"

He scoffed at my apology. "You've said that already and there's not even anything to forgive. I provoked you, you reacted, so since we both messed up it's a wash."

I would have argued but I recognized the look on his face. He could be as stubborn as me—well, almost—and he was ready to put all that ornery into refusing to listen to me. I settled for a sigh. Finishing the paperwork and feeling guilty some more distracted me from the issue at hand up until I started the car.

Oh, right, we're dating now. I looked over at him in the passenger seat; he was staring out the window and trying to pretend he wasn't nervously glancing at me. He probably has no idea what to do now... probably worried I'll punch him again. Or he's trying to figure out why I reacted that badly. I really don't know which possibility is worse at this point.

I paid extra sharp attention to traffic, which was practically nonexistent at two in the morning. Still, it couldn't hurt to be sure, particularly with an injured passenger. It was a weak distraction but I didn't know if I could survive examining the latest turn of events right then. I still wasn't completely convinced that I wasn't having a nervous breakdown and all I was seeing was a vivid hallucination.

Russel's probably filling out the paperwork. That's why I imagined filling out his medical paperwork, because I saw him with mine. I'm probably tied down with something nasty, both restraints and drugs, to keep me from accidentally breaking someone's skull with my auto-mail. Thus the hallucinations. By the time my brother gets here that will be out of my system and maybe he can talk some sense into me. Man, I really hope he's not with his girlfriend when he gets the news. He likes her and he doesn't need me scaring her off indirectly...

By the time we pulled into the driveway I had half convinced myself that I was having a psychotic episode. The fact that I still found this preferable to the reality where this was really happening probably should have worried me, but I was too tired to feel anything by that point. I was so numb from the emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion that, once I made sure Russel got to his room okay, I flopped onto my bed and fell asleep with my shoes and coat still on.

I'll find out in the morning. Either Al and an orderly will be staring at me or I'll be here at home. Then I can decide what to do.