A/N: This is my first attempt at FMA – kind of different from the Pride and Prejudice I'd been writing and the Supernatural I've been reading (by the way, there are some unbelievable Sam/Jess fics out there). This little idea just kind of popped into my mind and I figured I'd write it. I love EdWin, so... let's see how this goes, eh?
If you asked him, Edward Elric would vehemently deny that he had anything in common with his father. His golden eyes would widen and his mouth would squeeze shut into a tight line but then the two would switch and his eyes would narrow dangerously while his mouth wrenched open and he would yell.
For the most part, he would be justified. Besides the superficial resemblance in their eyes and hair, nothing quite translated. Even that comparison had its failings – Edward did not go for beards and his ponytail managed to hang completely differently. And there were all of his idiosyncrasies which differentiated the boy from his father.
Van Hohenheim never fiddled nervously with his hair or let his lovers play with it. When he looked at Trisha – years and years and years ago, he knew it was that long, but it still felt like just a moment ago – his love shone through, sure. But it was always clouded by something darker, something selfish. Something intangible always tainted his happiness even when he did manage to show his emotions. He normally hid them well, much to his own chagrin. He had only twitched slightly when his sons called out for him as he walked away, but he kept going and going, completely alone. He had wanted to stop and cry and go back to them, really, he had. Yet he could not bring himself to do so.
These were the real differences.
Edward's hand never left his hair these days as Winry worked on his automail. He was nervous. He needed a distraction. Sometimes, though, she would catch his eyes and see that they were bright and clear and absolutely beautiful. More than that, though, they looked like the eyes of a teenage boy, not a tragically disillusioned war veteran. She told him that once, and she blushed furiously at the observation, and he just rubbed the back of his head as he tried to repress the goofy grin plastered on his face.
He thought about her words that night. She had told him his eyes were pretty when he relaxed. He much preferred that to being told that they were pretty, just like his father's. He tensed up for a moment before forcing himself to breathe. After a few minutes of meditation, he stood and stretched. He would try to calm down before he went back downstairs. Edward Elric wanted Winry Rockbell to remember how beautiful his eyes looked when he first told her he loved her. He wanted to remember how beautiful hers were when she said it back (she will, she has to, he told himself). And a small part of him realized he wanted to remember the feeling when he confirmed that he would never be alone. When he confirmed that he was his own man, that he was not his father.
"What are you doing?" Winry hissed when he entered her workroom. She looked so disheveled and exhausted and unbelievably lovely. "Seriously, Ed. I'm trying to work and you're whistling a wedding march."
He simply sat on her workbench and smiled. "Hey, Winry?" She replied with a small noise akin to a grunt, but much more attractive. "Let's talk."
She paused and turned, a surprised expression firmly in place. "You want to – you mean, to me?" He nodded brightly and she wondered why he was so chipper for a moment. Then she realized they were supposed to be talking and she nodded back. "Sure, Ed. Let's talk."
That wasn't terribly romantic, was it? Oh well. First try and everything.
Drop me a line, yeah? (Review, please!)
