Edward was never particularly good at being normal. It was probably because his life had been everything but normal ever since he can remember. But if he were to pick the strangest thing that had ever happened to him, the strangest situation he ever found himself in, this would, by far, be it.
The Fullmetal Alchemist was not an easy person to surprise - he'd seen so much messed up things that he thought by this point barely anything would take him of guard - but he was left speechless when he felt his friend's frigid fingers slither up his bare back.
"Wha-?" he squealed as her hands worked their way to his chest. He couldn't see her face and he caught himself thanking the God he didn't believe in that she couldn't see his. "What the hell, Winry? Get off!" he tried to wrestle his way out but she pulled him back.
"Hold still, will you?" she demanded and, for reasons that he didn't have time to think about, he complied. He felt her nails dig around the wires in his automail arm and pull on something. She yanked and pulled at him before a frustrated sigh spilled from her lips.
"What the hell are you trying to do?" his voice was angrier than he felt.
"The wires in your arm are all tangled up," she informed him with a growl. "I don't know what you've been doing with it, but you should have come home sooner. I'll have to take it off and see what I can do."
Edward looked away, searching his mind for anything that could have caused this. "Fine, whatever," he sighed after a long pause.
He didn't look at Winry to see the displeased frown spread over her face. She yanked at his arm again, pulling him into the hall. He saw no reason to look for a pointless fight so he let himself get dragged into her work room.
Winry pulled out a screw out of the tool box that was set up against a wall and immediately started unscrewing his arm from his socket. Edward put his chin in his left hand and crossed his legs under the table. For a few long moments the only sound that broke the silence was metal scraping against metal, and Edward realized that he found the situation uncomfortable for some reason. Finding himself unable to find any words that would start a conversation but not a fight, he sighed loudly.
„Doesn't be such a baby," Winry scolded him, not looking away from her work. "I'll be done in a minute."
Her words were professional, he realized, and not friendly. He didn't know why, but it bothered him.
"So how have you been?" the question was simple and in no way unordinary, but he still felt a stab of embarrassment asking it. He saw his friend lift her shoulders in a shrug.
"Alright for the most part," she replied. "Granny's been a little sick a few weeks ago, but she's better now," she looked up from his arm and searched for his eyes. "Of course, you would have known that if you were here more often." Her words weren't angry and neither was her voice, but Edward couldn't tell what she was feeling exactly.
"You know I can't do that. I have more important things to do than going home for the weekend," he spat. He tilted his head to look at Winry, who was obviously pissed at him now. Or was she hurt? His eyes detected nothing, but he heard the pain in her tone the next time she spoke.
"You're right," her voice was barely above a whisper. "Why would you even care that we need you when there are so many more important things for you to worry about."
She pulled his arm out of its socket harshly and far too fast. Edward screamed and reached for his shoulders, holding back the hot tears that gathered behind his eyes.
"I'll let you know when I'm finished," he didn't wait for her to say anything else; he got to his feet and left her alone in the quiet.
...
The sun was already half way to falling behind the hills when Edward realized Winry hadn't left her work place since that morning.
He thought about leaving her to cool off after their argument, or even sending Al over to talk to her, but instead he grabbed a plate of food and headed into the hallway.
Winry heard him coming long before he peered through the half-open door. She knew apart the echoing click-clack of his automail foot from the numb tap-tap of his real one all too well. She sighed wearily and lifted her head, only then realizing what time it was.
"Hey," Ed's voice was masked with caution and false worry. "I brought you some food."
She waved her hand at him without actually bothering to look in his direction. She heard him growl something from behind her and the door scratching against the floor as he opened it.
"I'm done with your arm," she spoke. She talked about it in a casual manner, Edward noticed, like it was a toy for her to play with rather than one of his limbs. He seated himself to his previous position on the half-broken chair across from where Winry sat.
The mechanic worked on putting his missing arm back in place and Ed couldn't help the feeling that the whole situation was somehow misplaced. Winry's lips pursed together in thought.
"Do you remember how we used to make paper flowers when we were kids?" she was desperate not to sound desperate.
"No," he did remember. Winry was more than a little disappointed with his response, but she continued to talk as if his answer was the one she wanted to hear.
"Sure you do," she felt stupid for trying to convince him. "Your mom taught us how to make them because we liked them so much. Do you remember how we both wanted to make the best one and you ended up throwing them all out the window?" she smiled as she let her eyes find his. Edward was silent. "It was raining pretty hard that day," by now she could hear the piteous plea in her undertone.
Edward averted his eyes from her and Winry felt like crying for some reason. Why was this so important to her? "Maybe we could make them now?" his stare was steady but soft, piercing a whole in her back. She forced a smile to her lips and nodded.
...
They sat in silence for what seemed like infinity before Ed's frustrated growl cut through the thick quiet that settled between them.
"This is stupid!" he declared in anger. "These things are out to get me, for sure!" Winry covered her mouth to silence the giggling that escaped her anyway. "What?"
She shook her head as a certain familiarity washed over her. She looked up and a flash of something familiar appeared behind her eyes - whether it was mock or sympathy, Ed was not sure.
"You're just...the same as you always were."
"Is that a bad thing?" his brow shut up and Winry was almost positive it was with concern.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Is it?" her eyes were expectant; his were unreadable.
"I've changed a lot. You just don't see it."
He was right, Winry realized. She didn't notice that he changed because she didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to admit - to herself - that the Edward she thought she knew was only a memory; a memory this stranger, who has erased all the traces of the boy she once knew, has long forgotten.
"I guess that's true," she admitted. Another moment passed in discomfort as both of them concentrated at the work at hand. Ed didn't say a word about it, but Winry knew he must have noticed that she changed as well. Or maybe he didn't. The notion came before she could think to stop it. What if he didn't want to admit it too? Before she could put any more thought into it, though, Edward's hands both flew into the air, tossing aside the half-finished paper flowers he was holding.
"Fuck it, I give up," he was on his feet before Winry had managed a blink.
"Wait," she called after him. "You can't just leave this mess here, you lousy quitter."
She saw him flinched before turning back, muttering curses under his breath. He bent down to pick up the papers from the floor and Winry dived in after him and snatched them from his hands. She stared at the wrinkled papers between her fingers.
"I guess I still make them better than you," she grinned victoriously. Edward didn't seem to pay attention to her gloating; his eyes were distant and unfocused, but fixated on something in the distance. Winry turned her head to see what had caught her friend's attention, but all she saw was old furniture in the corner of the room. She snapped her head back and almost hit his forehead with hers, he was standing so close. The bundle of words she was going to throw at him got caught somewhere between breaths as his face collapsed against hers.
Her eyes fluttered on his face for a short moment before closing. She opened her mouth as though to protest, but Ed took it as an invitation to penetrate her even further. Her only response was a soft - surprised - moan as she felt the tip of his tongue slide against her teeth. He grabbed her wrists in his hands - one automail and one flesh - and pushed her to the floor. Winry opened her eyes to see his face; for the first time in a long time his eyes didn't hold that ever-present distant look in them. His emotions were completely out on the open: he wanted this, he wanted her.
He pushed himself against her torso in the most comfortable way, even though Winry's back was pinned to the wooden floor and her ankles were twisted in a weird position beneath Edward's automail leg.
She gasped into his mouth, wanting to let him know she needed air. Several moments went by and the only sound that broke the ear-wrecking silence was Edward's tongue exploring the inside of Winry's mouth. Then, he pulled away. He didn't move from his position above her and she didn't want him to. His gaze was steady on her face, like he was trying to find something he thought wasn't there. He looked disappointed, then pleased, and then she could no longer read him like she could the moment before. Winry cleared her throat, perhaps a little too loudly, and Ed snapped his head to look at her.
"What?" he asked.
"This was...unexpected," she wasn't sure if that's what he wanted to hear, or if it was what she wanted to say. He snorted and looked down at her.
"Was it really?" Winry's eyebrows flew up in surprise, getting lost beneath her hair. Had he been planning this?
"Well, yeah," Ed's smile grew wider.
"Glad to know that I can still surprise you, even after not changing at all," he laughed and kissed her again.