Becoming Blush

AN: Not entirely sure where this came from…

Disclaimer: As always, Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me. All the characters and anything to do with the series belong to Hiromu Arakawa.

It was cold in the Briggs fortress. She picked at the scarf she wore around her neck, pulling out the little tassels at the border. She watched as the thread that comprised the tassel unraveled in her hand, and she stretched her arm until she couldn't stretch it any further. Sighing, Winry twirled the long thread around one finger, ignoring how it bit into her skin, and gave a sharp tug. It snapped off near the place of its origin and came away in her hand. Studying the thread intently, she eventually wound it around her finger until none of it was free and slipped it off the digit, pocketing it.

Well, it had wasted two and a half minutes, at least. She could have always gone to the workshop and studied more about northern auto-mail, but her heart wasn't really in it. For once in her life, Winry Rockbell didn't feel like tinkering with auto-mail.

What had gone wrong with the world?

She laughed softly, hugging her knees to her chest. She was sitting in the room she had been allotted, on the floor with her back against the simple bed that had been provided for her. After tuning up Edward's auto-mail – thank goodness she had, he looked like he could have developed frostbite if she had delayed. The way the Briggs engineers had developed a method to stave off the cold truly fascinated her, and she'd spent much time ooh-ing and ahh-ing over their models and blueprints. She'd definitely be able to create a market for northern-style auto-mail once she returned to Rush Valley.

So what had led her to abandon the enthralling world of auto-mail engineering? What had led her to retreat to her cold little room?

She wasn't entirely sure. Maybe it was because she'd taken what Edward and Alphonse had said earlier, in their cell, to heart. She was in danger. It frustrated her to no end – she was always in danger, always used as a pawn against the Elric brothers. It came from refusing to cut ties with them for so long, she thought wryly. If she had given up on them when they relocated to Central, how much easier things would have been.

Even though Winry was only joking, part of her mind reprimanded her for harboring such unfaithful thoughts. Winry's face twisted as she ducked her head, letting her chin rest on her knees. She really didn't need to give her mind another reason to think of the Elric brothers. More specifically, one Elric brother in particular.

Winry giggled nervously into her knees. She'd never behaved so irrationally before – she'd never stopped working to stare into space with a dreamy expression, envisioning all sorts of scenarios. She'd never lost herself in a daydream before. She'd never sighed so frequently or so pathetically. She wondered what had gotten into her. She was behaving so… so stupidly. It was probably a bout of girly-girl-itis.

Winry had never allowed herself to get so wholly wrapped up in one person before. Not since she'd started studying bio-physics and tinkering with auto-mail. Ever since she had begun her career in auto-mail, she had never allowed herself to be swept away by anything else. Yes, she often worried over her aging grandmother and the idiot Elric brothers – but she would never forsake her work in order to drown herself in worry. People might have considered it callous, but Winry knew she cared. That was all that mattered, after all.

But this… she felt her stomach churn uncomfortably. She pushed away the half-formed thoughts, determined not to allow herself to grown even more distracted. The sooner she got over this, the better. An engineer could not afford to give into distractions. She needed to get a hold of herself.

She'd had plenty of time to think about this, after all! Ever since the Elric brothers had seen her off at the Central station the last time she'd visited, she'd been thinking about her abrupt confession to herself in the train. Mr. Garfiel had often asked her what she was thinking about when she got a particular look on her face, but he soon learned not to question her any further when she replied with 'Stuff'. Winry supposed she was lucky to have such an understanding mentor – any other auto-mail engineer would have probably thrown her out because of her moodiness in those days.

She allowed herself a small grin at the memories. The grin quickly slid off, however, as her single-track mind once more returned to the problem at hand.

Edward.

"Oh Edward," she muttered, punctuating the exclamation with a sigh.

"Uh, yeah?"

Winry's head shot up at the sound of that hesitant, familiar voice. Her stomach tied itself in knots as she stared across the small room and into the confused visage of Edward Elric.

Oh, damn.

"Why… you… I… you're supposed to be in a cell!" she finally finished, pointing an accusing finger at him. "What are you doing here? Did they let you out?"

Edward had reacted rather unexpectedly at her words. His ears turned red, and the shade swept through his entire face. "No… I was talking with," he fidgeted slightly, "someone, and I thought I'd stop by to see you on the way back. Check on how you're doing."

Winry eyed his blush with puzzlement. She'd never really seen him blush before. What had embarrassed him so much? The girl shrugged and quickly got to her feet, praying that he wouldn't ask why she had been sitting on the floor and sighing his name.

Edward had never been good with people. "Why'd you say my name, anyway?" he pressed, gazing at her quizzically.

Winry wished she could turn scarlet, but not even the faintest trace of heat radiated from her cheeks. In a way, it was a good thing. She could feign ignorance.

"Because I was remembering how carelessly you've been treating your auto-mail," she spoke off-handedly, "and I wished I could lob something at you."

The corners of Edward's mouth twitched upwards, but her tone wasn't quite right. Too detached. "Really now," he replied in a disbelieving tone.

"Yes," Winry retorted, moving backwards and seating herself on the thin mattress. "And of course, speak of the devil and he doth appear." She gestured in Edward's direction. "Be happy I don't have any sort of mechanical tool with me now," she added for extra measure, enjoying the front she was putting up.

"I think you're lying," Edward spoke, crossing his arms and allowing one shoulder to press against the door frame. "You wouldn't be calmly discussing this with me if you'd thought I'd treated your auto-mail badly."

Winry flinched. Damn it, why was he so good at picking up subtle little signs like that? Okay, so it wasn't that subtle after all – she tended to go homicidal-maniac on him when he destroyed her auto-mail – but still. Edward Elric should never have been born so perceptive. Men were supposed to be dense, for goodness' sake.

Again, she felt the overwhelming urge to blush, if only to release the pent-up feelings inside her. How a reddening of cheeks could be cathartic, she wasn't sure, but she saw everyone doing it all the time. Girls always blushed over silly things – happy blushes, coy blushes, even embarrassed blushes. They always blushed. Why couldn't she? Were her red blood cells defective? Were they immune to her embarrassment?

"Just go away, Ed," she muttered, pointedly avoiding his gaze. She could almost feel the bemusement radiating off him. She heard the faint creak and squeal of his auto-mail leg as he began to walk away.

"I'll see you later, okay?" she called after him, feeling guilty about her coldness. "I'll come visit you and Al."

"Mmm." Her only response was a grunt. Winry sighed and stared at her upturned palms, resting on her thighs. She felt ridiculous for wanting to blush so badly, and highly embarrassed about Edward having caught her at such a bad time. What were the chances of him walking in on her just when she had spoken his name? She had to have the worst luck.

A faint smile played on her lips. At least he knew when to back off with her. And he hadn't pressed her too much about the entire episode. She was fairly sure he'd continue to make allusions to it the next time she saw him, but that was all right.

She'd come up with a better alibi next time.

AN: Yours truly can't ever blush at the right time, either. I honestly wonder if it's cathartic. Let me know?