AN – I dun own nuffin' so dun sue me, plskthxbai.
Like a Woman
By Anrui Shino
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. –William Congrave "The Mourning Bride"
The table sparkled, the wooden floors beamed, the windows were so clear that birds dared to fly into them—Winry was in a cleaning mode. In recent years, she found it to be a stress reliever of sorts. Putting things back where they should go, setting order once more where chaos had reigned: it gave her back a small sense of control (control that, she felt, her life sorely lacked).
This time, however, the cleaning was not for naught. She was waiting for someone to arrive today, and she wanted everything to be perfect.
Even after she was dressed and ready for him, she found little things to pick up, little things to undo and reorganize. For a while she didn't mind the few minutes he was late--it was only a few minutes, after all, and he was coming in from the city and all that. When the minutes turned into an hour, she forgave that as well citing that the trains never did run on schedule. It was when the hour turned to two and three and the early afternoon turned to early twilight that she bit her lip in anxiety.
Where was he? Did he forget about her? Was he alright? Was he HURT? What if something happened to the train and he WAS hurt? What if he just didn't want to see her again? She was being stood up in her own house?! WHO does he think he IS!?
Den's excited barking and automail against the hard packed dirt path outside jolted her out of her musings, and an evil glint sparkled in Winry's eye for a second. In a flash she was upstairs, wielding her trusty wrench. She barely gave the man approaching the door a once over sending the wrench flying.
"You bastard! I can't believe you left me waiting all this time!"
"What the hell kind of greeting IS that?" he grunted, rubbing his head. He had heard her pounding footsteps inside, but still barely had time to react. Luckily he was able to deflect the wrench; the full blow of her anger was not inflicted upon his person.
"Roy Mustang you are half a day late, and you dare ask me 'what the hell kind of greeting is that?'" the blonde glared down at the one-eyed man mercilessly.
"Winry!"
"Hmph."
"Winry!"
Silence. She'd stalked off back inside, and Roy knew she was probably making her way to the other side of the door. In the years that he'd gotten to know her, he knew she wouldn't just leave him out there... at her worst, she still tossed him a blanket or "forgot to lock the backdoor."
Roy leaned on the door, smirking when he heard her gentle breathing on the otherside. "I love you Winry," he said it loud enough for her to hear, and without warning the door was opened and he was sprawled on her gleaming floor.
"Winr--" The soft lips against his own effectively cut Roy off from any further outburst. It was good to be home.
End.