"Who do you want to sing your bedtime song, me or Papa?" Winry leaned back against the couch, watching her daughter.
Sara kicked her legs, considering. "Engine, engine number nine," she chanted, pointing her finger at Winry, and then at Ed, and back again. "Going down the Eastern line. If the train goes off the track, do you want your money back, Y-E-S spells yes!" Her finger should have landed on Winry, but at the last moment, she twitched it back towards Ed. "I want Daddy to sing my song," she said.
"Alright," Ed said, pulling himself off the couch. "Time to go up to bed, then." Suddenly, he reached out, grabbed Sara's ankles, and hoisted her into the air. She screamed and giggled. "Bedtime!" Ed repeated, and started up the stairs, tickling her as she went.
Winry sighed, and smiled. No matter how many times she told him not to work the children up before bed, he never listened. She glanced over at the chair, where little Al sat reading a book. "It'll be your bedtime in a few minutes, too, sweetheart," she told him.
"Mooom," he said, as though she were being the most unreasonable creature in all Amestris. "I'm in the middle of my book."
She started laughing. He looked mortified. "Sorry," she told him, getting control of herself. "I guess we should have known what we had in store for us when we named you after your Uncle Alphonse." Al rolled his eyes, and it took Winry's breath away for a moment. Al might act a bit like his namesake, but he looked just like his father had at that age. "Fifteen minutes," she said. "Then bed. The book will still be there tomorrow, I promise."
She had to escort a grumbling Alphonse upstairs fifteen minutes later, the book held high over his head. "Tomorrow," she repeated, sighing. Ed was still in Sara's room when she was done with Al.
"Will you be home tomorrow?" Sara was asking.
"Yup," Ed said. "Tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. The day after that, I have to go to Central to see Roy."
"I want to spend some time with you," Sara said, firmly.
"Good," Ed said, poking her. "Because your Mom has to work tomorrow, so you and Al are stuck with me. Now," he added, "Go to sleep."
"Hug and kiss!" Sara demanded.
Winry watched Ed comply. Then he got up, said goodnight again, and turned out the light. He closed the door carefully, and almost walked into Winry. "Al to bed?" he asked.
"Yeah," she smiled.
"Ice cream?" he asked, grinning.
"Oh, yeah," she said.
They ended up on the couch. He sat on one end, writing in one of his notebooks. She sprawled across the length, her bare feet in his lap, reading an automail technical journal. She had a mostly empty bowl of ice cream on her stomach, and he had a completely empty bowl on the table at his elbow. Every so often, usually when he was thinking about a particular turn of phrase, he'd reach down and massage her feet a little. It was an excellent perk of their positioning, and Winry was all for it.
"We should go to bed," Winry pointed out, eventually. Her eyes were growing heavy, and she'd had to read the paragraph about bone-grafting twice.
"Bedtime?" Ed said, looking over at her, his golden eyes full of mischief. "Did I hear someone say it was bedtime?" And then he hauled her up upside down by her ankles. She screamed and laughed and fought him unsuccessfully. She squeaked as he dumped her on the bed. "Special delivery," he said, cheerfully.
"You asshole," she told him, punching his arm.
"Such language!" he said, feigning shock.
She punched him again. "Don't make me get my wrenches," she threatened.
Later, with the lights out, she curled up against him. She slept on his right side, of course, because automail wasn't nearly as much fun to sleep on as flesh. He wrapped his arm around her, kissing her neck absently.
"How long are you going to be in Central again?" she asked, considering.
"That depends on Roy," Ed said. "Take it up with him. Better yet," he advised, "Take it up with Riza."
"I'm just thinking about who can watch Al and Sara," she said, leaning back into him. "I just finished machining on the Winthrop leg, so I'm going to be doing the installation then. And there's that Thompson girl's hand, too." She sighed. "Hands are hard- to be honest, it's easier to do a complete arm than just a hand. The wrist connections are so delicate."
"So I hear you tell me," Ed said. "Over and over again. And I don't know why you're worried about it; half the town would watch the kids if you asked. Hell, you could just throw them out the door and tell them to be back by dinner, and I'm sure they'd be fine. Al would go read all day, and Sara would spend the day charming old ladies out of their candy."
"She takes after you more than I'm comfortable with," Winry said, smiling in the dark.
"Me?" Ed disagreed, laughing. "I remember a certain little blue-eyed girl doing exactly the same thing at a certain age."
"Only because I wanted to look at their automail," Winry pointed out.
"We all have our interests," Ed said.
"Hmph," Winry said, into Ed's chest. He scratched her scalp idly with his free hand.
"Ed?" she said, after a while.
"Mm?" he said, sleepily. He stirred a little.
"Do you want chicken for dinner tomorrow?" she asked. "I was just thinking about that chicken in the icebox, and I think we need to use it."
"Crazy woman," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Sleep now. Chicken later."
"Okay," Winry said, and closed her eyes again.
She had almost dropped off when Ed stirred a little. "Winry?" he said, his voice slurring with tiredness. "Love you."
She smiled. This was still the only time he could bring himself to say it- here, in the dark, alone with her. "Love you too, idiot," she whispered, fondly.