rating: t for language
themes: idiots. that is all. (fluff)
a/n: jesus christ i don't even know how long it has been since i wrote anything, let alone posted it. (quite frankly, i don't even want to know). regardless, this idea has been in head for months now and i finally have a little down time and volia! finally.
a/n2: literally didn't even proofread this so i apologize in advance for grammatical/spelling/anything mistakes
"Raspberry?"
"God, no!"
"Okay... What about Almond? Butterpecan?"
"Blech, too nutty."
"White chocolate? Red velvet? Marble?"
"Chocolate? Are you kidding me? That shit has that vile white crap in it. No way in hell!"
Winry settles into the creaky, hard back of the chair, rubbing her fingers against her temples and refraining from losing all control. She cranes her head up and glares at her impossible fiancé with unamused eyes. "Well at this rate we might as well just have apple pie instead of cake."
Ed's eyes widen in delight and the grumble of his stomach is audible at the prospect. "Wait, can we do that, Win?"
She groans and tosses her head back, sending her blonde tresses slamming across her back. "No, Ed, we are not having apple pie at our wedding."
He pouts and slouches against his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looking very much like a child. "Why the hell not? It's my wedding, too! I should have a say!"
This sets her off like a firecracker; her eyes glow and she's ready to blow. "Are you kidding me? First off-"
He cuts her off, waving his hands excitedly so as to save himself some skin; he sees that hand snaking down to retrieve that godforsaken wrench. "Okay, okay, whatever, I'm sorry." He motions to the notebook open before her and encourages her to continue reciting the list of flavors from the local bakery.
Ed sneaks a glance at the huge notebook with bridal magazine cutouts and sticky notes spewing out from every angle - he's properly dubbed it 'The Wedding Book' - in which Winry jots down every last detail of their impending marriage ceremony, most of them concealed from Ed whether he likes it or not.
It certainly isn't that Ed isn't allowed to know, per se, but Winry has taken almost all of the creative liberty in planning the ceremony, something Ed is perfectly fine with. She of course inquires his opinions on matters that concern him - such as color schemes, arrangements for his and groomsmens' boutonnieres, a flavor for their cake - and simply keeps him guessing about all the rest. She does want some of it to be a surprise, after all. And for that reason, the book is mostly kept out of his direct line of sight except for occasions such as this. He can't help but a little curious about what she's stashing in that novel-sized notepad.
Winry settles down, exhaling deeply and relaxing her rigid frame. She squints down at the admittedly huge list but is once again cut off, this time by the shrill ringing of the telephone echoing through the house.
She sighs, rising from the table and setting the book in front of her dopey fiancé. "I'll get it. Look at the list and try to decide on something, please?" She asks sweetly and he can't help but muster a smirk.
"I'll give it my best shot."
She returns the smile graciously and rushes to answer the phone, muttering about how she can't understand how a man who eats everything in sight can't choose a flavor of cake as she picks up the receiver.
"Hello, Rockbell Automail and Prosthetics! How can I help you?" She recites, praying Mr. Kiser doesn't need another adjustment for his leg.
"Winry?" The line is slightly distorted but the chipper, bright, and surprisingly low tone catches her full attention. She'd know that voice anywhere.
She can't suppress the smile from bubbling onto her face. "Al?!" She responds so incredulously, you'd think they hadn't heard from him in years. In actuality, it's only been a matter of months at the most but even still, she's thrilled to hear from him.
Ed whips his head around at his bride-to-be at the telephone, eager to take her spot and chat with his brother.
Winry leans against the wall and begins her standard questionnaire. "How are you? Is everything alright? How is Mei? Ling? Xing? How are your studies going? When are you coming back?"
Al's vivid laugh is not lost through the desert miles between the receivers. "I'm fine, everything's wonderful here. It's a little warm now that it's spring, but I've gotten a lot done. Can't go outside too much, there's way too much pollen! Mei is... Mei is great, doing well. She's actually the reason I called. Well, the main reason, I guess. It's always nice to catch up and all, but first Mei wanted me to ask you something."
Winry wrinkles her eyebrows. "Me? You mean you don't want to talk to Ed?"
"Oh, no! I mean, not 'no', but no, he isn't the person to ask. I'll talk to him later, I'm sure. Anyways, it's about the wedding."
Winry positively beams whilst Ed sinks into his chair, feeling dejected. She begins rattling off detail after detail about the wedding while Ed turns back to the notebook in front of him.
Sighing and slumping his face into his palm, he begins to go over the ridiculous types of cakes written in Winry's neat penmanship. His fingers run over the papers sticking out from the sides and it's a few minutes before he realizes he's alone - Winry's voice is muffled by the wall and he notes the phone cord being stretching into the other room.
He's alone with the book - granted, it's probably full of girly, boring, wedding crap but she's been so diligent at keeping it from him, he can't help it. He just has to know.
He grins deviously to himself as he skims over the labeled sticky notes; looking for anything particularly eye-catching. It's all boring crap at first, just like he thought; 'Dress', 'Flowers', 'Shoes', 'Guests', 'Locations', 'Food/Refreshments', 'Bridesmaids', 'Groomsmen'. And then he spots it; one tab near the back of the book and so concealed he almost missed it - 'Edward'.
Curious, Ed excitedly flips to the section labeled after him. What first garners his attention is a detailed sketch of a man that he deduces to be himself sporting a tux. He examines it carefully; it's a damn fine doodle, and not just because it's of him. Winry's been an expert on anatomy before she could ride a bike, and she's been sketching automail designs long before that, so he clearly isn't unfamiliar with her skill. He just never thought of himself as the product, not when automail wasn't concerned.
"Damn handsome devil," he mutters cockily as he grins at the drawing before flipping through the small chapter devoted to him.
More sketches await him; of his dress shoes, his wedding band, his own boutonniere, as well as side notes written in Winry's delicate handwriting. She comments on his dancing skills, or lack there of (which he huffs at), her appreciation and excitement to get him in a tux (and get him out of it) (he blushes at that one), and a list of reminders for herself that she will inevitably pass between Al and herself 'Make sure he's packed for the honeymoon!' 'Has vows memorized!' 'Greets everyone - Even Mr. Mustang!' 'Hair?'.
He rolls his eyes but admires the work and effort she has put into all of this, and to think that he's only seen one small section. He reminds himself of just how lucky he is as he flips through his passage before he reaches a new one labeled 'Misc./?'
Ed frowns and picks through it. He finds several outlines of the invitations for the ceremony before he comes across curiously empty pages. He furrows his brows and continues to flip until he finally lands on a page completely covered in ink, spelling out the name 'Winry Elric' in a million different variations.
In cursive, in print, first initial followed by full last name, initials; all of them in different forms and alterations. It continues; the ink spreading from page to page as she experiments with her new name and the styling that accompanies. He's four, five pages into the art that has become Winry Elric and to say he is enthralled is an understatement.
He's amazed and delightfully surprised that something as seemingly insignificant as a name - his own name - has elicited this much though and dedication from her. Not to mention that seeing her name, his name, their name on paper only serves to excite and shock him more that in only a few short months, she's going to be his wife; a part of his family.
He scowls at that; it doesn't quite sit well in his mind. To him, she's always been family. Actually, she's always been much more than just that, but the realization that it'll be official and wonderfully permanent is enough to raise an arrogant smile out.
He's so immersed in their name (he even spots little 'Mrs. Winry Elric' and 'Mr. and Mrs. Elric's hidden throughout), he almost misses the creak of the floorboards, signaling Winry's reentry back into the room.
He curses under his breath and quickly, quickly, quickly flips back to the cake list just in time for Winry to wrap up her conversation.
"Yes, of course I'll tell him... I'm excited for it, too. I've been waiting long enough. I know he is, too, even if he's too stubborn to admit it... Yep, yeah... Alright, Al, I'll see you in a few months... Bye!" She carefully sets the receiver onto its post and returns to the table, placing both of her hands on his admittedly broad shoulders.
"Your brother says hello, as do Mei and Ling. They're all very excited for the wedding." She murmurs contently, rubbing her hands along his shoulders in a gentle massage.
He grumbles, "I still can't believe you convinced me to invite that arrogant prince. We'll be lucky if he doesn't eat all of the food."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't counter the 'arrogant' comment. "Speaking of, did you finally decide on a flavor?"
Again, Ed's stomach voices an opinion quite audibly. "Nah, not yet. My mind was elsewhere," he proclaims slightly dramatically. He rises to locate any leftover stew, Winry following in tow.
She huffs and raises an eyebrow, "Elsewhere, huh? Enlighten me."
He spins around and kisses her warmly, catching off guard at first, but she softens when his arms lock around her waist. She says a silent thank you that the dope is finally becoming more confident where romantic endeavors are concerned.
He doesn't respond to her for a few minutes, mouth otherwise occupied, before he separates from her, quite reluctantly.
"My thoughts were clouded by you, of course, Mrs. Elric."