Fall in the Night
by Suzi a.k.a. KatsyKat
Came to me last night – AFTER I'd gotten into bed and FMA invaded my thought process. I got back OUT OF BED and wrote some notes... afterall – there are some things so much more important than sleep. :D
POV – Ed... To be honest, I started writing this third person... and then in the middle I ended up swtiching... MAN I HATE SWITCHING TENSES... but Ed just HAD to rule this fic. Spoiled brat. So I pre-apoligise and hope I caught all the places I needed to edit.
I woke with a gasp. The dream... nightmare?... no just a dream (if not unsettling), faded instantly upon my waking. Even before I rubbed my eyes with my fists... one warm flesh and the other cool steel.
It wasn't often I had bad dreams. In truth it surprised me that I didn't. There is much I've seen in my short life that would inspire nightmares in even the strongest of men. But I take pride in my unusual ability to sleep soundly. It's probably why Al razzes me so much about it. I'm sure he wishes to escape from reality some nights.
The pale moon shone in the cracks of the curtain on the window and lit up the spare room at the Rockbells. The room was quieter than usual, adding an eerie stillness to the night.
I sat up quickly looking to the bed Al occupied at night. It was oddly empty. An unstoppable panic seized me (as it did every time I didn't know my brother's whereabouts), until I remembered the cat Al had been fussing over earlier that day.
She was due to give birth. Al had probably snuck out to the barn to watch over her.
I lay back in bed, hands behind my head, studying the familiar ceiling cracks. It felt weird to be completely alone. Times like this make me really appreciate the fact that I have Al around all the time.
I can admit that I selfishly like the fact that he doesn't need sleep like I do. When I wake up like this and can't fall right back to sleep, I always have someone to talk to.
But not tonight.
I rolled over with a sigh hoping the new position would help me drift back to sleep.
It didn't.
Several sleepless minutes later, I yawned deeply and realized that my mouth was so dry it was sticky.
Frowning, I contemplated going all the way downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water or staying burrowed in bed and trying for sleep again.
Cool soothing water trumped warm comfortable bed.
I swung my feet out of bed, not the least bit held up by the difference in weight, in spite of my sleepy nature. My feet touched the floor at the same time. One sent tingling sensations from its sole as it came in contact with the soft carpet, the other provided little more than a dull thud on the wood underneath the carpet.
I considered throwing on a shirt – it was rather chilly outside of my blanketed cocoon, but I rejected the idea. I just wanted a glass of water. It wouldn't be the first time I'd strolled around the Rockbell residence in just my blue and white striped boxers.
Making my way quietly to the stairs I shivered as the once warm metal of my leg came in contact with the cool night air. I couldn't really feel anything but a few spots where the ports fused to the muscle. Still it sent a shiver up my spine and goose bumps spread from my leg up my stomach and even ran down my arm.
Absently rubbing the skin around my shoulder port. I realized that I should have probably put on a shirt. The goose bumps that raced across my chest got worse as I tried to warm up the metal touching by running my left hand up and down it quickly.
Half-way down the stairs, I could feel – even through my automail leg – the vibrations of the creaking stairs. True I didn't actually feel through the automail, but there were subtle vibrations that reverberated to my real leg. I had learned long ago to trust these small clues.
This is how I managed to stop halfway as a particularly loud protest was issued from the board underneath my metal foot. Not wanting to wake Winry or Pinako, I lifted the offending appendage and stealthily skipped the step.
I felt the cold of the linoleum floor stab my right, real, foot, while my automail appendance announced our arrival into the kitchen with a steady clack-click of my heel to toe footstep.
Despite my experience with reading all the subtle signs of my automail, I was helpless against the puddle of water on the floor directly underneath my metal foot.
With the next step forward – my automail leg flew out from underneath me and I grabbed at the counter to try to stop myself falling. Instead of helping, my metal arm slammed into the top and threw me into a painful twist as I fell to the floor with a loud thump and a surprised yelp.
As I was pulling myself into an Indian-style sitting position – tenderly rubbing my injured hip and lower back – I heard another crash... this one coming from the workshop.
I was startled. I didn't know anyone else was up. But before I could get to my feet; I watched the door fly open and light flooded the dark kitchen.
I blinked against the harsh light to see Winry.
She stood, silhouetted, in the doorway, breathing ragged and obviously startled. I noticed she was still in the same clothes from earlier in the day. Her hair was disheveled and there was a red mark on her cheek.
I did NOT think about what cute a picture she made standing there, with the light flooding in behind her giving her an ethereal appearance.
And even if I did think her near-panicked expression was endearing, I quickly blamed it on being half asleep.
When my over-processing brain protested that after that fall I had surely knocked any sense of sleep from my body – I blamed it on the painful disorientation of being on the floor without knowing why.
Finally assured in the reasoning of my odd opinion, I was forced to look away from Winry as she flipped on the kitchen light. Deep needles of pain shot through my eyes as the intruding light invaded my wide-open pupils.
Served me right for gaping at her, I though sardonically.
"What happened? Are you alright?" Winry asked, quickly rushing to my side.
I shrugged off her help, trying to ignore the hurt look she gave me, and stood easily. I brushed imaginary dust off my boxers, and as if only just then realizing that was all I was in, blushed a deep red. Not like Winry'd never seen me in this state of undress... but there was something so intimate about our matching sleepy faces as we stood next to each other, alone, in the middle of the night.
"I'm fine, I'm sorry. I slipped." I ground out, still rubbing my offended hip.
Winry looked around the kitchen and saw the puddle immediately, an abashed look crossing her face.
"I'm sorry. It looks like Den splashed water out of his bowl again." She said as she retreated to the laundry room to get a towel.
Using her absence to complete the task I had started by coming down here, I snatched a glass from the cupboard and proceeded to pour myself some water.
The cooling water did wonders to bring my face back to its normal temperature.
I had just finishing gulping the last swallow of water as Winry returned.
I watched her throw the towel over the water – not even bothering to actually wipe it up.
I refilled the glass and handed it to her.
She smiled – the dimple in her cheek... wait, dimple? No – it was a mark... I couldn't help but smile as I saw the perfect crescent of a wrench imprinted into her cheek.
"Did you plan on sleeping in the workshop tonight, or was it an accident?" I asked her in a teasing tone.
She managed to finish drinking and shook her head with an embarrassed look.
"I wasn't..." She began her lie, as she reached around me to set the glass by the sink.
I found myself reaching up to her face. I only meant to point to her tell-tale mark, but found my finger tracing the indentation with my real hand.
It was strange. I didn't touch people often, but this felt so natural.
I felt the heat in her cheeks as the blush blossomed from her neck to her face.
"I... might have dozed off a bit." She admitted, her eyes searching mine.
As if only just realizing our close proximity, I became uncomfortable under her gaze.
"You should go to bed." I said lamely, as I dropped my hand and backed up a step.
"Eh, I will... I just want to get the last adjustments on the cogs for this timing belt..." she trailed off as if realizing something and then fixed her gaze on me. "Wait, what are you doing up? Are you ok?" Her eyes traveled my form and I found myself squirming, even if I knew she was just inspecting my automail for a possible reason as to my being awake. I felt more than a little exposed.
When her eyes rose, once again to my face, she placed a cool hand on my forehead I had to resist the urge to jerk back.
"I'm fine... I'm not sick." I shook my head, succeeding in shaking her hand away. "Just woke up thirsty."
"Bad dream?" she asked with concern.
"Not really." I replied grumpily. Not caring that she was close to the truth. What did she think I was six years old?
She chuckled at the defensive pout I hadn't realized had taken over my expression.
"It's not a big deal. You used to get them a lot." She remarked, her eyes shifting to some point in the past she was reliving. "I would sit by your bed after until you fell back asleep."
I startled... I used to...?
"Oh." I said lamely. "I forgot."
Winry smiled in understanding. It never ceased to amaze me how many different emotions she portrayed with her smiles.
"You were pretty doped up and in a lot of pain." She said, "It's pretty common to have night terrors during surgery."
Night terrors? Were they really that bad...? A few faded images flashed through my mind and I understood, embarrassed that I'd forgot.
"Well... I don't get them much anymore. I remember now that you bring it up. Those dreams... they were always weird exaggerations of what happened – like me getting all my arms and legs ripped off by people I knew and stuff like that." Her wide eyes caused me to stop abruptly.
"What?" I asked finally when I could take no more of her silence. Winry looked down immediately.
"Nothing... it's just... you never would tell me what they were about." She said softly.
I paused... I hadn't? ... Why wouldn't...? oh.
"I didn't want you or Auntie to stop the surgeries if they were some weird side-effect." I explained.
She nodded, still looking at her feet.
"So, are you having trouble sleeping?" Her quiet voice pushed on before I had a chance to respond. "Because I could come sit with you... since Al's... with Calla." She finished.
Her offer caught me off-guard and it took me a moment to place the name of the cat Al had been with earlier.
"I wondered where he was." I said sheepishly.
"He stopped in a few hours ago to tell me." She said with a sudden yawn, betraying her fatigue.
"You know you shouldn't be working so late... early." I corrected, stretching and preparing to head back up to my room. "It's not healthy."
Winry shrugged sheepishly. "I really wanted to finish this. It's taking me longer than I thought..." she trailed off glancing at her workshop – and strange look on her face. Before I could place it, she turned to me quickly a light blush covering her cheeks as she repeated her offer with a hopeful smile. "But I could come sit with you a while... since I got a nap in, I'll be up a while. It'll be like old times."
I shook my head as a reflex – refusing any human contact... any help I didn't absolutely need. But after a second I realized she wasn't looking at me. She was looking back at her feet. I opened my mouth to tell her I was fine by myself when my eyes betrayed me...
Against my will they jumped up and down her sleepy countenance, already preparing herself for my rejection. And why wouldn't she be? It was, after all, my standard reply.
Winry's lips were drawn in a thin line. Her fists were clenched as if it were taking a lot of willpower to stay and wait for me to answer. The way she stood completely still as if waiting for a physical blow was too much for me.
What could it hurt? I asked myself. We used to sleep together all the time as children.
I pointedly ignored the voice that reminded me we were no longer children.
Looking at the wrench mark in her cheek again, I figured that I may as well coax her into sleeping in a real bed instead of her table.
"Why don't you just forget the..." I drew a blank on what she said she'd been working on, "... whatever it is, and come sleep with me." I suggested. Shocked at how suggestive my words sounded when voiced out loud, I hurried on. "I mean, it's such a crazy hour – you really shouldn't be up working anyway... I mean, Auntie'd kill me if she knew I just let you wander back your nuts and bolts and... you'd be more comfortable... then your... bench..."
I trailed off with my hurried explanation when I realized I was rambling. I looked up into her large eyes. A soft smile graced her lips, though whether at my proposal – my blush – or my awkward rationalization of an innocent request I wasn't sure.
I waited, my heart in my throat, already preparing my self-recriminations for being such an idiot and putting her in the position to have to...
"Sure." Winry said softly. "Just... let me change."
I nodded, ignoring the jump in my stomach at her agreement. She was still in the previous day's clothes.
After she shut off the workshop and kitchen lights, I followed her upstairs, nervousness making itself known in my stomach.
She skipped the same step I had only minutes before. I followed suit – something told me, that no matter how innocent we intended to be, we did NOT want to wake Auntie Pinako.
At the top of the stairs Winry turned into her room, and I entered my own. Looking around, I wondered what would be best to wear to bed.
I couldn't sleep in just my boxers. No matter which side she slept on – she'd be cold against the metal of my automail.
After a search – made longer by the need to be so quiet, I finally found an old pair of loose cotton pants. Pulling them over my boxers, I began to search for a shirt.
I heard Winry's soft footsteps padding into my room.
"What are you doing?" She asked me.
I turned to find her, not one of her lacy nightgown things, but standing in an oversized tee-shirt and shorts. I wasn't sure if the feeling in my chest was relief or disappointment.
"Looking for a shirt." I told her, shoving those thoughts aside.
"But, you don't usually sleep in a shirt." She said tilting her head and looking strangely at the pants I had on.
Seeing the oblivious look on her face, I shrugged.
"Yea, but..." I trailed off. I had been about to say something negative about her automail. I had caught myself just in the nick of time. It was not my intent to start a fight before we tried to go to sleep.
"But...?" she questioned.
"Nothing. It's... just... a little cold." I finished lamely.
"You mean the night... or your automail?" She asked, correctly deducing my train of thought.
I smiled sheepishly... "uh... both?" I asked, hoping that was the right answer.
Winry shook her head, but she didn't look angry.
"Don't worry about it. It will warm up under the covers."
I couldn't help the blush that jumped to my face, even though she hadn't meant anything by it. I was grateful that she'd already turned to climb into bed.
More specifically, into the right side of the bed.
Crap.
Trying to look as casual as possible, I followed her to the same side.
"Scoot over." I told her.
She raised an eyebrow – her eyes flickering to my automail arm. She opened her mouth as if to argue but thankfully closed it and moved without protesting.
The bed was small for two, so we were forced to touch, arm to arm.
After the obligatory shifting and shuffling to get comfortable, we settled down. I felt her warmth bleed into my own and found a contented drowsiness had already seized me.
"Good night, Winry." I said softly.
"'Night, Ed." she replied.
After a few moments of silence, she shifted from her back so that she was curled facing me on her side.
If I shifted to allow her head to pillow on my shoulder it was only so my arm didn't fall asleep with her weight pinning it to my side.
With her curled against me... I could feel her breath on my chest. It almost tickled but I didn't ask her to move.
If she was snuggling, surely it was to my body heat because it was cold, not because this felt so... right.
"Ed?" Winry asked finally, her voice already thick in her near-sleep state.
"Yea." I replied.
"Let me see your hand."
I frowned, beginning to move my flesh arm... from where it had curled, against my will, around her shoulders.
"Not that one." She said reaching out over my stomach.
I was happy she couldn't see my confused frown. What was she going to do – inspect my automail in her sleep?
Hesitating only until her bright blue eyes rose to meet mine, I brought my metal arm over my chest and presented it to her.
She clutched the digits of my automail and pressed them to her cheek.
The same cheek from which the wrench marks had finally faded, I noted with a grin. Then, with a heartfelt sigh, she lay on my hand, closed her eyes and I felt her body relax.
What a strange girl.
If I stayed up just a little longer to study her sleeping face curled against my metal hand, it was only because I knew Al and I would be leaving in a day or two – and I wanted to imprint her new time-enhanced features in my memory.
It was certainly not because I thought she looked beautiful with the moonlight catching the highlights in her hair, and her face smoothed in sleep.
My eyes traced her features like my hands longed to do. Alas, I was completely and utterly trapped with my flesh arm around her shoulders and my metal hand clutched under her cheek.
So why did my heart suddenly feel freer than it ever had?
My mind ran a replay of my slip in the kitchen.
I smiled as I drifted to sleep.
How nice it can be to fall...
(The last line is a play on falling in the kitchen, falling asleep, and falling in love – I probably loose points in pointing that out... but OH WELL, who cares about points anyway?!?!?)
I want to give a special thanks to SJ Smith. If you haven't read her works YOU NEED TO! She's an incredible author! In addition to which, she's been absolutely amazing in helping me with my FMA writings thus far. It's like having my own writing coach, fan club, and tutor all in one! Thank you!
BTW – for anyone interested, I promise I AM working in Maintenance – this random plot bunny just molested me last night and I HAD to get it out!
Hope you enjoyed!