This takes place in Amestris, but don't assume anything else from the canon storyline applies to this fic. Hopefully all major changes will be clear. And yes, they have cell phones. Hey, automail is pretty crazy advanced technology, why couldn't they develop cell phones too? Leave me alone, it's important to my plot.
Enjoy!
Winry finished scribbling the last few figures in the leather-bound account book before swinging her canvas bag over her shoulder and heading down the stairs. She was feeling accomplished after a good morning's work—one of the regulars at Winry's and her grandmother's automail shop had come in earlier for a tune-up on his thumb and then Winry had actually managed to get them caught up on the state of their financial transactions.
She checked her phone absently for messages as she headed for the door. There was one from another client, asking for confirmation about the method of oiling Winry had instructed her in. She started to type a reply, opening the door as she heard her grandmother's voice.
"Going shopping?"
She stopped with the door still open, turning to address her granny over her shoulder. "Yeah, we need eggs and I thought I'd pick up a few other groceries while I'm at it."
"Make it quick, Winry, we're receiving a new client this afternoon and you should be here."
"Oh?" The blonde's ears perked up at that; it had been a while since they'd gotten anyone new. She turned so that she was fully facing the shorter woman, letting the door close and leaning against it.
Her granny nodded, fiddling with a stubborn screw on their dog Den's leg. "Got a call this morning. He'll have to be a stay-in while he adjusts."
Winry's eyes widened slightly at the news of a stay-in on such short notice. "I'll be sure to hurry back so I can fix up the guest room."
Granny waved a hand dismissively. "I've taken care of it, just hurry back so we can get started as soon as he arrives."
Her granddaughter nodded. "Okay, see you soon, Granny!" She was out the door before she realized she'd forgotten to ask what kind of automail he needed. Now she wouldn't be able to mentally plan the design on her grocery run.
She was halfway through her shopping when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and saw that it was a text from an unknown number.
12:58pm: Hi, is this Rockbell Automail? This is Alphonse Elric and I'm bringing a customer in today, I just wanted to confirm with you on the address?
Winry smiled at the way the guy typed as if he were speaking on the phone and quickly answered his question.
It was about fifteen minutes later when she hurtled through the door, grocery sacks hanging from both wrists. "Am I—"
"Late," her grandmother sniffed. "They're in the clinic."
They? Oh, so maybe that Alphonse guy had stuck around.
She deposited her purchases on the table and went to the clinic, smoothing her hair and trying not to seem as if she'd just been hurrying.
"—should be here soon, brother."
"Sorry to keep you waiting!" A boy with short-ish, dark blond hair was facing away from her, wearing a button down white shirt with a brown vest and khaki pants; he was the one who had been speaking. Slouched in a wheelchair against the left wall sat a boy probably around her age with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, a bit lighter shade than the boy who must be his brother, but not as light as Winry's own. At the sound of her voice his eyes snapped up to meet hers, and she had to stop herself from openly gawking. The irises boring into hers were a brilliant shade of gold and for the moment the only thought that she could process was pretty..
"That's alright!" Winry had to force her gaze away from those eyes to the brother that was speaking again. Alphonse. Whose eyes were the same bright shade as his brother's. "We weren't waiting long. Only a few minutes. We got a bit lost on the way," he chuckled, but something about the sound of it didn't sit right with the mechanic. It sounded a bit strained. She smiled as brightly as she could.
"Well let's get started then!"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce us! I'm Alphonse Elric, but you can call me Al, and my older brother is Edward."
Edward had been staring straight ahead and started a bit at hearing his own name. For the first time she noticed that the right sleeve of his black long sleeve thermal shirt was hanging loose at his side and his left pant leg was doing the same in the wheelchair. Were his eyes really so remarkable that she hadn't noticed missing limbs?
"I'm Winry Rockbell. Are you going to be staying with Edward while I examine him?"
Al glanced at Edward and looked like he was about to reply in the affirmative, when his brother shook his head just a fraction of a centimeter.
"Ah—" Winry tried not to notice how the short-haired brother's face fell. "Alright, I'll be waiting outside when you're done, brother." He put on a bright smile and directed it full force at the mechanic. "Take good care of him."
Winry couldn't help but return the smile. "Don't worry about that! He's in good hands! My grandmother runs the best automail clinic in Resembool!"
When Al was gone Winry went straight to the worktable to pick up a few items for measurement. She couldn't suppress her curiosity over what happened to get the guy in this state but knew it might be considered insensitive to ask. She usually only pried if it was someone she knew, which was hardly ever since few people she knew could afford automail, much less had any need of it. But maybe if she brought it up indirectly...
"Looks like you've had a rough time." She stuck a pencil in between her teeth as she headed back over to Edward with the tape measure.
"You took your time getting here," Edward muttered. Winry blinked. Did she hear that correctly?
"We even got a bit lost on the way and we still beat you. Al was getting anxious."
The mechanic grit her teeth. "I got here as soon as I could. Can you get your clothes off yourself or should I help you?"
Edward seemed a bit surprised by this but recovered quickly. Yeah, mister, you're not the only one who can pull the random subject change.
"I can do it," he mumbled, pulling at his shirt with his left hand and managing to get it up and over his head. Winry had to remind herself that she was a dignified professional and that she was not, in fact, here to stare at his torso. Even if it was nicely toned.
His pants proved to be more difficult. Winry let him struggle for a minute, having figured already that he wouldn't be able to do it but wanting to see him flounder a bit after that comment he'd made. She was about to stop him and help when those golden eyes turned on her and gave her such a fierce warning look that she took a step back. It would seem Edward was determined to get his pants off himself through sheer power of will.
It took a couple more minutes but he managed it. He looked so smug sitting there in nothing but his boxers that Winry had to stifle a laugh.
"Alright, let's get you up on the table." She held out her hand to pull him up and surprisingly Edward let her, leaning on her slightly with an intense look of concentration on his quickly reddening face, his gaze directed determinedly on the floor. Winry pressed her lips together in a line, hoping her face didn't match his.
Once he was seated on the table, the examination only took a few minutes. She quickly measured and mapped the contours of where his arm and leg stopped as well as the measurements of his good limbs to use as a template.
"Alright," she said when she was done, pencil to her lips. "Your automail should be ready for installation in, oh, two days at most."
"Installation?" He chuckled without any real amusement. "What am I, a machine?"
"When I'm done with you, you will be," she quipped. "In part. Automail is machinery, get used to the terminology. You're going to have to deal with it from now on."
Edward went quiet again and Winry softened a bit. "Come on, I'll show you to your room." She helped him back into his black shirt and pants and into the wheelchair again, being careful of his bandages. Edward let her without complaint.
"Dinner will be around seven-ish. Do you need anything?" Winry stood in the doorway of the guest room as Edward sat propped up on the bed. The boy shook his head.
"Brother," Al started, standing in the middle of the room. "Are you sure you don't even want—"
"I don't want anything," Edward snapped. Al seemed to deflate a bit and his brother glanced at him and sighed. "Al—"
"No, it's okay—"
"No, I'm sorry, just, I'll be fine, okay? Don't worry so much. I don't need anything."
"Right... I should go now, I have class in the morning, and it's a long drive. I'll be back Saturday, alright?"
Edward smiled. It was a weak one and looked rather put-on to Winry, but still it was the first smile of any sort she'd seen on the boy's face. "Don't miss me too much, in that apartment all by yourself."
Al grinned and punched him on his good shoulder. "I'll try to keep the partying to a minimum."
"Speaking of minimum, I think I just heard your grandmother call."
"Wha—" Winry's confused expression morphed into a glower when his words registered. "Listen, you jerk, who gave you the right to talk about my gran—"
"Winry!"
Winry huffed. "Coming, Granny!"
Al sighed. "See you later, brother. Try and be civil."
"Yeah, yeah," Edward waved him off and the two other blonds made their way down the stairs.
"Have a safe trip," she offered.
"Thanks," Al said with a tired smile. "I know my brother won't ask you for anything while he's... you know, being like this, but he really likes books."
Winry smiled, vaguely wondering what he meant by 'like this'. Like being a jerk? "I'll keep that in mind. You're a good brother."
Al's smile faltered and disappeared. "Right... I hope you'll keep me updated on how he's doing?"
"Yeah, sure. Don't worry about a thing, you couldn't have brought him to a better clinic!" She said confidently.
Winry's eyes scanned over the blueprint she had just drafted for Edward's arm. Yeah, this would work. She bounced up and down in her seat, envisioning how it would look constructed in sleek steel and how beautifully it would function once she connected all the intricate wiring and machinery.
Before she allowed herself to be consumed by the task at hand, however, she remembered something and made her way up to the living room. Inspecting the rows and rows of books on her grandmother's bookshelf, she realised she should have asked Al to specify exactly what kind of books Edward would be interested in. With nothing really to go on, she grabbed a variety and carried them upstairs, thumping the stack against the door in lieu of knocking.
"Yeah?" She heard from within. With one hand she managed to get the door open. She glanced at Edward just long enough to see that he was sitting in the bed with his eyes closed, his back propped against the wall. She deposited the books on his bedside table with a loud, dull thud, causing the teen to jump, eyes flying open.
"I'm just gonna leave these here," she said quickly, swiftly exiting the room before he could respond.
Winry's basement workshop was in perfect order to get started. She rubbed her hands together in excited anticipation of finally having such a big project and set straight to work.
"Winry, go to bed."
"Eh?" She continued tightening one of the screws with her wrench, not paying her grandmother much mind.
"You've been working all night. It's six am."
"Is it?" Winry murmured, not too concerned.
"You don't want to make a stupid mistake on his leg because you overworked yourself on the arm."
"I won't make a mistake!" The teen huffed, straightening. "Although it might serve him right..." She added under her breath. Although she knew no matter how irritating the few sentences Edward had spoken to her had been, she would never intentionally mess up an automail limb. She took too much pride in her work for that.
She slid her wire cutter to the side and her phone towards her on the workbench. One missed message, from Al.
5:49am: How is he doing?
Hmm, how indeed? She crept upstairs, knocking on the door of the guest room with one hand, still clutching her wrench in the other. There was no reply, so she tentatively opened the door.
Edward was asleep with a book open face down on his chest. Winry smirked, coming further into the room to see which one it was. Her smirk morphed into a real smile at the sight of the familiar cover. It was one of her automail books.
She was startled by a sudden movement and low groan coming from the body under the book, the arm holding her wrench moving on its own to whack the offending thing in the head.
"Ai—!" Edward was sitting upright in a flash, staring at Winry with no small amount of alarm. "Woman! What is your problem?"
"Don't wake up so suddenly, you jerk!"
"Says the one sneaking into my room while I'm sleeping and hitting me over the head with—" he focused on what was in her hand, his incredulity increasing. "A wrench!"
Winry hid her gloved hand behind her head, scratching a nonexistent itch. "Well, you see—"
"Winry!" Her granny entered the room, hands on her hips and pipe between her teeth. She surveyed the scene in front of her and shook her head. "Winry, I hope you have a good reason for hitting the boy, he can't afford to lose any height."
Edward bristled. "Shut up, you flea-sized old lady, you've never even seen me standing!"
"I can tell from your stumpy little torso and short leg—"
"—still taller than you sitting down—"
"Winry, shouldn't you be working on Ed's leg?"
The blonde girl blinked. "I thought you told me to go to bed..."
"Well, I certainly hope you weren't planning on doing that in here—"
"Of course not!" Winry felt her face heating up against her will. "I was just checking up on Edward because Al asked—"
"Al?" Ed perked up at his brother's name.
"Yeah, I think I'll go work on his leg..." Winry headed for the hall, shooing her granny out in the process. She closed the door solidly behind them and let out her breath in a sigh.
"That boy has no manners," Granny said, taking a drag on her pipe. "I like him."
6:11 AM: Oh, he's doing just fine.
By evening the automail was complete. She rechecked her carefully labeled connecting wires and sat back to admire her work. It was beautiful, if she did say so herself. Definitely one of her best designs, and she was confident that it would function perfectly. She let herself revel in her accomplishment for a few minutes before setting her jaw. The worst part was yet to come. Thankfully she wouldn't be the one performing the surgery herself, her grandmother was the master surgeon; Winry herself was merely an amateur in that field. But still, she would have to be there to help if it was needed.
After letting her grandmother know she was done, she headed up to the guest room and knocked, letting herself in after hearing Ed's response.
"Your automail is ready. It's time now."
The boy blinked. "That was... less than two days."
"Yeah, well I did say two days at most."
He still looked shocked. "You crafted two steel-armoured prostheses that can connect to and utilise my nervous system to run all the electrical motors and pneumatic actuators and whatever else you put in there, without any external power source, in a day?"
"Well, I had to pull an all-nighter, but yeah. Sheesh, you say that like it's not my job." Her lips quirked upward, pleased at this reaction. "But hey, look who suddenly sounds like the expert in biomechanical engineering."
Ed's disbelieving face relaxed a bit. "Yeah, well someone told me I needed to brush up on my terminology," he said with a brief glance at the automail textbook sitting back on the bedside table.
Winry chuckled as she headed towards the bed to help him into the wheelchair. As he leaned against her, he glanced at her sidelong. "Why would you pull an all-nighter for this?" he asked quietly. "Why would you work yourself that hard unnecessarily?"
"Isn't it obvious?" She dumped him into the chair. He grunted, then shrugged. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Because you need a leg to walk with and an arm to work with. Isn't that what you came to me for? Every minute I don't work is a minute you don't have those things. So don't tell me it's unnecessary."
She glared at Ed, expecting him to be either sheepish or angry, but the expression she saw on his face was one she wasn't sure how to identify. If she had to try, she'd say he looked a bit... awed. But there was an intensity in that gaze that didn't quite fit with that, and it unsettled her.
"Let's go," she sighed, taking hold of the handles of his wheelchair. "Granny should be almost done with the preparations in the clinic."
"When we connect the nerves, it's going to cause a lot of pain. Luckily for you, Winry designed the automail with extreme precision and attention to the shape of your residual limbs so it won't be necessary to amputate them any further to fit the mechanisms."
Ed's eyes widened. "Do you sometimes have to do that?"
"Mm, sometimes there's no good way around it," Granny replied.
Ed fixed Winry with a ridiculously grateful look that would have made her laugh if she didn't have her game face on. It had been a while since she had observed an initial installation surgery, but she still remembered what serious business they were.
Granny began to unwrap Ed's shoulder bandage and Winry could tell that whatever had happened to him, it had been recent. The wound hadn't completely scarred over.
Winry's grandmother worked as efficiently as she could. She started with the installation of the shoulder port and the only sign of pain Ed gave was a sudden clenching of his jaw and fist, though Winry knew from watching the reactions of other patients that the pain he must be experiencing was much more intense than he was showing outwardly. Winry's hand automatically reached out to take his own to give him something to hold on to, and immediately she felt her fingers being crushed. She held back a squeak of discomfort. If he wasn't making a sound, there was no way on earth she was going to.
When the nerves connected, he couldn't suppress a cry of agony, his face contorted and eyes squeezed shut. Not for the first time, Winry lamented the fact that the conjunction of the nerves with the mechanisms required that the patient be awake and alert. All she could think about was how he would have to go through all this again with his leg.
Winry was an expert when it came to automail; she knew the ins and outs of all the inner workings and how to draft and craft the most efficient and functional designs, but one thing she didn't know was what it was like to actually have automail as a part of your body. The pain of installation, which Ed now knew. The trials of recovery, which he would soon find out. And living with it every day after.
She held his hand all the way through both procedures, attuned to his varying levels of pain by the pressure she felt squeezing on her own hand. By the time his new leg was fully attached, he was trembling all over, his breathing had grown shallow and quick and his forehead and neck were covered in a shiny layer of sweat.
Granny was done and Ed's hand went mostly limp in Winry's own, but his body continued to be wracked with tremors. She retracted her hand quickly, the practicality of having taken his earlier now no longer applying. The boy made no sign of noticing.
Winry helped her grandmother clean up the blood and sterilise the room again before promptly crashing on the couch.
When she was dragged back into consciousness Ed was seated on the edge of the operating table, flexing the fingers of his metal hand open and closed. He was staring at the appendages with a concentration that suggested he was trying to figure out every little mechanism that was taking place between his brain all the way to the fingers in order for them to move.
"Where's Granny?" She propped herself up on her elbows tiredly.
Ed's golden eyes met her blue ones for the first time since before his surgery had begun. "She went to bed. She told me I could wake you up if I needed anything."
"Do you?" She mumbled, trying to shake off her sleepiness.
"Catch me if I fall," he said after a moment's thought, scooting off the edge of the table before Winry could process what he was doing.
He placed his mismatched feet firmly on the ground, testing his weight on them. He winced, and she could only imagine the spasms of pain that must be shooting up his leg.
"Don't—!"
He took a clumsy step forward and promptly fell to the ground with a grunt.
She cringed. "Idiot. There's no way I could have caught you. You weigh like twice what you did yesterday."
A moment later he was pulling himself back up.
"Hey, hey, slow down there," she crouched next to him to help him get up and hobble over to the wheelchair. "Let me take you up to your bed. You need to give it time to heal before you try and walk, genius."
"I'm fine."
"You're not!" She let him collapse into the wheelchair on his own. When she saw that he looked like he was about to try to stand again she stood directly in front of the chair so he wouldn't have room.
"Move."
She shook her head. "Don't be stupid. You literally just had surgery a few hours ago."
Ed scowled. "I knew I should have tried it while you were still asleep."
Saturday brought Al back to Resembool and Winry was all too happy to see him. He had been nagging her every day via text about Ed's well-being, and she was glad to be able to give him proof that when she said he was fine she had not, in fact, been lying and secretly keeping him tied up in the basement.
The first thing Ed did when his brother entered the room was swing a punch straight at his head. Winry gaped and was about to yell at Ed and see if Al was alright when the latter brought an arm up immediately to block the blow and dropped into a crouch, swinging his leg out in front of him. Ed, who was still quite unsteady on his left foot, had his legs easily swept out from under him and landed in a heap.
Al rubbed his forearm. "Did you have to use the metal one?"
Ed pulled himself to his feet with a chuckle. "Don't expect me to go easy on you now, Alphonse."
Al smiled. "Pretty cocky statement from someone who just got knocked to the ground."
"Are you both insane?" Winry demanded, hands on her hips. "Ed, you haven't healed completely and you can barely walk! Al, don't badger me about Ed's health if you're just going to show up at my house and beat him up!"
"Oh, come on, I can't just sit around forever waiting to heal."
"That's exactly what you can do, and it hasn't even been a week! Edward," she walked up and pushed a firm hand against his chest. Ed let himself be pushed backward onto the bed. "Stay there and talk to your brother like a normal person. Al," she whirled on the younger brother, who gave her a sheepish smile. "Don't let him do anything stupid."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Let me know if you need anything. I'll be downstairs."
"Yes, ma'am."
It was evening and Winry and Al found themselves alone in the living room. Ed had finally been persuaded to get some rest (meaning he had argued until he passed out from exhaustion) and her grandmother was in the shop.
"Thank you for taking good care of my brother, Winry," Al said earnestly, coming down from Ed's room.
"It's no problem," she answered and opened a window to let some air in. "I hope you were aware we'll be needing to keep him for a while longer. His body will take a while to completely heal—even longer if he keeps up this recklessness," she added, muttering. "After he's healed it will be safe to take him home, but he'll still need time to get accustomed to using his new limbs. They'll give him trouble and pain for a while. Full recovery from surgery and complete mastery of the use of the new automail usually takes about three years."
Al's eyes widened and she noticed for the first time that though they were the same shade as his brother's, their shape was something softer. "That long?"
She nodded. "Automail surgery is not a thing to be taken lightly."
Al sunk onto the couch, his shoulders slumping.
"Al..." She bit her lip. "If you don't mind me asking... What happened to Ed?"
"He didn't tell you?" Al looked over at her. "I guess that's not too surprising. My brother is a pretty private person."
"Oh, well, if he wouldn't want—"
"No, it's fine." He took a seat on the couch, not meeting her eye any more. He took a deep breath.
"It was my fault, really, what happened to him. We were walking along the street, headed to the library, and a driver on the street lost control of her car. The car was headed straight toward me, but my brother reacted quickly and pushed me out of the way." He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his thumbs. "He just wasn't quick enough to get himself out of the way, too."
Winry took in this new information in silence for a moment before frowning and crossing her arms over her chest. "That's not your fault."
He smiled sadly. She wondered if he had a smile that wasn't at least slightly tinged with sadness. "It's hard to believe that when your brother spends weeks in hospital and loses both an arm and a leg, while you get away without a scratch."
Winry was about to respond when he turned to her, his smile widening. "But I don't mean to sound all depressing, I really am pleased with how well Brother is doing. I can't thank you and your grandmother enough for what you've given him."
"Don't worry about that," she answered brightly. "That's what our business is for, and your pay is enough thanks."
When Al headed back to his home later that day, she couldn't help but wonder how Ed felt about the event that led to his injury. Admittedly she didn't know either one of them very well, but seeing the two of them interact, she couldn't imagine that Ed blamed his brother for what happened.
"Winry!"
The blonde started, having been absorbed with making beef stew. Or trying to, anyway. Her cooking skills were improving, but she still preferred her Granny's cooking over her own.
Den, lying at her feet as he always did when she cooked (undoubtedly hoping a bit of beef would accidentally find its way to the floor), seemed to have been roused by the sound as well. He lifted his head and cocked it to the side, staring in the direction of the living room.
Winry's brow furrowed. Was that Ed calling her? She realized belatedly that she'd never heard him say her name before. It sounded strange coming from him.
She left the kitchen, a bit anxious. Had he fallen and hurt himself?
No, there he was, standing in the living room, perfectly fine.
"Is everything okay?" She asked, puzzled.
The boy nodded, his ponytail swishing slightly with the action. He walked from the couch he was standing next to across the room and over to the fireplace, each step deliberate. Then he turned around and walked back. Winry blinked.
Ed looked at her so eagerly and expectantly that she had to stifle a laugh, the image of Den waiting for a treat flashing in her mind. Is this why he'd called her out here, away from her dinner preparations? To show off how he could walk without falling?
Aw.
She smiled, proud of his progress but wondering what he expected her to do. Pat him on the head? Somehow she didn't think that would go over too well.
She did it anyway. "Good job, Ed!"
As expected, he shrunk away from her touch, a blush spreading across his cheeks.
"What the— I'm not a dog," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'm proud of you," she offered. She watched in mild fascination as his blush deepened.
"If I'd known you'd react like this, I wouldn't have called you out here."
"Well, why did you call me out here?" She asked, a bit of defensiveness in her tone but genuinely curious.
He huffed, his stance and expression the perfect picture of a petulant five-year-old. "Because... A few days ago... You said I could barely walk, remember? So..." He looked at her defiantly, a bit of smugness replacing the embarrassment she'd caused with her response to his performance. "I wanted you to see that I can."
She considered him a moment before crossing her arms to match his.
"Beat Al in a fight, then you'll be off the hook."
She swept back into the kitchen with the image of a dumbstruck Ed burned into her mind and a triumphant smirk on her lips.
The days passed and turned into weeks; Al came, went, and came again; Ed kept slowly but surely healing despite his somewhat reckless behavior. He continued to infuriate Winry with rude remarks and stubborn behavior and inspired her respect every time he pulled himself to his feet after falling, never once complaining of the pain she knew he must still be feeling or the difficulty of mastering his new limbs.
Once in a generous moment she even commented on it. "You know, you don't have to act so tough all the time, like nothing hurts you. It's okay to admit you're in pain sometimes."
He waved it off, which she should have expected. "I have nothing to complain about. Better me than him."
He didn't explain who he meant. He didn't have to.
"You know," she started again, "you're almost completely healed from the surgery. You've scarred nicely. You should be able to go home soon."
A light went on in his eyes that made her chest unpleasantly tight. "Really?"
Was he so eager to go home? Winry checked that thought immediately—of course he's eager to go home, wouldn't you be?
She wondered what he would do when he got home, how he would spend his time. She wondered, suddenly, what this boy's goals were, his dreams, what he valued most. What he thought about when he was cooped up in the house and his eyes had grown too weary to comprehend the text of the books she'd kept cycling through his room. Alphonse wasn't kidding when he'd said his brother was a private person. She wondered if she'd ever get the chance to know this boy enough to gain any answers to the things she wondered about.
"Really," she answered with a smile. "So be good and don't reopen any wounds or get any new ones."
He grinned—really grinned, the kind that gets your eyes caught up in the smile, an expression that had never previously been directed at her, only at Al. She had to remind herself to take a breath.
"No promises," he said, "especially if I have to hang around you and your wren—ai, back off, woman, remember the wounds!"
Winry had been out shopping for groceries for almost an hour when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
1:37 PM: hey, is it ok if I stop in for an overhaul sometime?
1:37 PM: Paninya! It's been a while, dear. Yeah of course, nothing's wrong is it?
1:38 PM: nope just, as you said it's been a while. besides it gives me a good excuse to see you hun :) plus I know you want to ogle my sexy automail ;)
1:38 PM: when will you be home?
1:39 PM: I'm always home in the mornings and evenings. And if you come soon you'll be able to ogle our most recent patient. Ugh, I swear every time I look at his arm and leg I just want to take them apart. They're beautiful.
1:39 PM: Also his face. His face is beautiful. But I can't take credit for that.
1:43 PM: ehh I'm not sure who you think this is ...
1:45 PM: .. Who is this?
1:48 PM: I must have typed in the wrong number
1:49 PM: Oh shoot. I was texting my friend and I thought you were her.
1:49 PM: I'm a bit frightened. are you like some kind of sicko doctor?
1:50 PM: OH MY GOSH
1:50 PM: I just reread that text oh my gosh I swear I'm not as creepy as it made me sound
1:50 PM: I'm an automail mechanic.
1:51 PM: sure you are
1:51 PM: Really!
1:51 PM: either way I'm not sure I'd want to come near you
1:52 PM: Don't worry, only people with automail are in danger from me.
1:53 PM: Oh man that sounded creepy too, didn't it?
1:55 PM: that is in no way reassuring
1:55 PM: is this some kind of weird fetish
1:56 PM: It's my profession!
1:56 PM: whatever you say, automail freak
1:57 PM: Oh great now even complete strangers are calling me that.
1:59 PM: well what do you expect when you open a conversation with 'I want to take this guy's limbs apart'
2:02 PM: Excuse me, I wasn't trying to open a conversation! It's not my fault you hit a wrong number!
2:07 PM: it's not my fault you can't pay attention to who you're texting when you talk about your disturbing fetishes
2:08 PM: Oh my gosh okay I'm not contributing to this conversation anymore
"Did she say when she'll be home?" Granny Pinako poked her head in the door of the living room. Ed started, flipping his phone shut.
"Uh... No, she didn't answer."
2:43 PM: Why didn't you just tell her who you were?
2:44 PM: don't be stupid, al! I couldn't just say, oh yeah you know that guy you were talking about, the one you said had a beautiful face? yeah, I'm that guy
2:45 PM: it's not even beautiful. my face is handsome
2:48 PM: I'm sure that's what she meant, Brother. Still, it doesn't seem right to not tell her.
2:49 PM: that's rich coming from the person who told her I got hit by a car
2:53 PM: You know that's different.
2:58 PM: I panicked, okay
2:59 PM: at least I'm coming home soon so I can stop getting all flustered every time I see her
3:03 PM: Aw.
3:04 PM: what do you mean aw? it's annoying
3:39 PM: HEY
3:40 PM: I hope you're not insinuating what I think you're insinuating, little brother
3:59 PM: DON'T IGNORE ME ALPHONSE
4:04 PM: I'm sure I have no idea what you think I could be insinuating, Brother.
4:05 PM: I'm glad you're coming home soon, too.
4:05 PM: don't try to turn this into some sweet brotherly moment you manipulative toad
4:07 PM: Aw come on, you know you can't wait to see my smiling face.
4:08 PM: what are you talking about I don't even like you
Chapter 2 is nearly complete and should be up sometime next week!
(Also on the chance that you're a reader of my KH stories, the next part of TCIYH should be up soon too—deepest apologies that it's been so long)
Reviews are lovely and appreciated and I will reply to them all!
Cheers,
Alice