Content
S J Smith
Disclaimer: So, it ought to be obvious I didn't get what I wanted for Christmas as I don't own FMA.
Summary/Teaser: He desperately wants to agree….
Rating: K
Word Count: 390
A.N.: This imagines a happy ending…or at least the possibility of Ed and Winry getting together by the end of the manga. Unedited by anyone other than me. Twelve Days of Ficmas story.
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The nightmare wakes him, sends him halfway out of the bed before Edward realizes just what he's doing. Still, the adrenaline rush makes him blow out his breath, shake his head and chuckle half-heartedly.
Winry is watching him. He can feel her gaze on him, though Edward isn't sure whether to acknowledge it or not. It seems easier to stare at the sheet puddled around his hips than meet her eyes. "It's all right," she murmurs, as she has so many nights.
He wants desperately to agree but can't get the words out. Instead, he waves his hand, half-heartedly, trying to shove the images from his dream back to the dark corners of his mind. "I didn't," Edward risks a glance Winry's way before jerking his eyes back to the mattress. "Didn't hurt you?" His fists clench automatically, forearms trembling under the strain. Edward has seen the marks on Winry's fair skin before, from the simple act of sleeping beside him. He doesn't always wake soon enough from his nightmares, though Winry never blames him for the bruises.
"I'm fine, Ed." Her voice is a balm, sweet and low. He wishes he knew how she can speak a few words and sooth his jangled nerves. Edward's body reacts almost involuntarily, his shoulders sagging, fists unclenching. Winry's hand, rough and cool, strokes along his spine, and Edward turns into that caress. "What was it this time?"
Your body, in the place of that thing I brought back instead of Mom. Edward shivers, not saying it loud, pulling Winry close. She's warm and, though her body is hard from working with metal, she seems soft when she wraps her arms around him. In her embrace, his tension bleeds away, leaving him drowsy, though not so tired he can't press a kiss on the pulse in her throat.
They topple artlessly back into bed, reluctant to release their holds on each other to pull up sheet and blanket, but somehow they manage. Edward's dream is fading now, like dew before the sun, the horror chased away by the warmth in Winry's eyes. She's so close, he breathes her in, tasting her breath in his mouth. Her lips brush over his, the touch so light, Edward might have imagined it. But he knows Winry is here, guarding his rest, and now he can sleep.
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