Notes: Completely and absolutely pointless EdxWin fluff.

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. In fact, I'm pretty sure it owns me.

Low whimpers break through her sleep and her eyes snap open. She knows this too well, but her heart clenches each and every time.

"Ed…?"

His back is to her, but she can see the slight tremble of his shoulders even in the darkness of the room. She places a hand on his arm and he doesn't seem to feel it at all. She knows it then: It's the nightmares again.

"Ed. Ed, its okay." She tries to shake him awake but to no avail, for Edward breaks into a full out sob. She quickly turns the bedside lamp on and returns to Edward's side; her arms embrace him from behind, and she feels him shaking against her own body. He's drenched in sweat, and she catches a glimpse of unshed tears under his gold eyelashes.

"Wake up, Ed." She kisses him on the temple, her lips against his sweaty forehead. "Its just a nightmare…"

And then he moans a single word that breaks her heart, as it always does.

"Mom…"

"Oh, Ed."

He gasps and she knows him to have finally broken free from whatever enslaved his sleep. His breathing comes hard and ragged, and she holds him from behind without letting go, whispering soft words that she hopes are of some comfort – I'm here, its just a nightmare, its gone, you're fine… – and placing kisses on his neck and shoulder and face. His breathing finally eases.

He grabs her arms and says, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Ed. It's gone now. It was just a dream."

He entwines his fingers with hers and she holds him even tighter, if that's even possible. They stay like that for a while as if either of them is afraid to let go. Everything stands still. She waits.

He lets out a sigh and she gives him a final kiss on the back of his shoulder before disentangling herself from him, just for a moment, to turn the lamp off. She returns to his side and settles down against him, her arms around him once again, her head just below his nape, some of the tips of his golden hair tickling her nose.

She closes her eyes and feels her own breathing ease down. After a while she realizes she isn't falling back asleep, so she settles for a quiet rest against Edward, feeling his heart against her arms, his slow breathing against her body, and the feel of their fingers together. She knows he isn't asleep either, but it feels very calm and warm. She wishes it could be like that more often.

"Winry?" he asks after a while, a low, throaty whisper in the dead of night. "Are you awake?"

He asks because he knows.

"Yeah."

A pause, then he says, in the same voice as before, "I can't sleep."

Another pause. She shifts a little so her chin is resting on his side. The room is dark but she can see the outline of his face, his sharp profile outlined by the little moonlight that drifted through the drapes.

"I think there's still pie in the kitchen."

He smiles a little bit.

He turns on the lamp of the living room and sits on the couch, and she moves on to the kitchen. She pulls out two plates from the top cabinet and sets them beside the leftovers of apple pie from that morning. It's more than enough for both, so she serves a generous amount of crust and soft apples for each, and pours just one glass of milk for herself.

She maneuvers everything into the living room, hands Edward his plate and settles on the other end of the couch. She puts the milk on the small table and pulls her legs up on the cushions. Edward raises his plate from his lap as an invitation, and she plants her feet there comfortably.

For a moment there's just the sound of clinking plates and silverware under the warm light of the room. She watches him gulf down the plate and leaving it clean while she's barely halfway through hers.

"Aren't you a pig. And I thought I was hungry."

He just smirks, shrugs, and puts his empty plate down on the table. He leans his head against the back of the couch and lets out a slow sigh, closing his eyes. He starts to mindlessly rub her feet on his lap, and she keeps eating her pie. There's something nice about feeling his touch, tender albeit automatic, running from the tip of her toes up to her ankles and back again.

She finishes the last piece of crust and puts the plate on the table by her side, takes the glass of milk, and scoots deeper into the cushions of the couch, so now Edward's hand rests on her knee. His thumb draws small circles on the rough skin and she drinks a gulp of milk.

"I saw her again." His voice is soft, his hand stills against her knee. "My mother."

His eyes are not closed anymore and he's looking at the ceiling. She notices the corner of his lips pulling down into a slight grimace and her heart clenches again. She reaches for his hand on her leg and he hastily takes it.

"And then she... she turned into that thing – and I couldn't…"

"I know," she says. She doesn't know, not really; she can't even begin to imagine what Trisha Elric had looked like after… after her sons… "I know," she says again, not really understanding what she's referring to.

That is her method; she just blurts out words, and whispers, and soft kisses, and gives him pie in the middle of the night – or ice cream, or biscuits, or whatever is left in the pantry – hoping to be of some help, of some comfort. She does so wholeheartedly, trying to understand.

He shifts his head to the side so his golden eyes settle on her face. He's still holding her hand; he brings it up to his lips and presses her knuckles against them. She can't help but grin a little bit because, after so long, she still can't manage to believe the tenderness he's capable of.

"Thanks," he says against her fingers. She outstretches them as a reply and holds his cheek on the palm of her hand. He leans into it, and back to the headrest of the couch. His eyes close again.

She keeps still for a while, and then leans back against the armrest, resuming her position from before. His hands are back at her feet, always absentmindedly, and she drains down more of her milk.

"You know you're not coming back to bed if you keep drinking that, don't you?" He's peeking at her through one eye, his head still on the headrest of the couch. The mood shifts and she pokes him with her foot on the chest.

"Milk is good for your bones," she answers, holding the glass of milk closer to her breast, almost protectively. "You should try drinking it more often. I don't even know how you managed to get so tall."

"By avoiding that disgusting cow secretion, I guess."

"Ed!"

He lets out a breath of mirth and she rolls her eyes at him. "You're an idiot," she says, and tries to hide the small grin creeping up her lips by the glass up to them and draining down the rest of the milk.

When the glass is emptied, she lets out a satisfied sigh and ceremoniously declares, "what a perfectly glorious glass of milk." She sets the glass back on the table with a content smile, "Loving the aftertaste in my mouth."

"Glorious? Ugh."

"Wanna taste it?"

"No, thank you."

"Come on…" She straightens and tries to level her face to his resting one, but he notices her getting close and immediately widens his golden eyes and dodges her.

"No! Stop it!"

She ends up kneeling beside him, holding his scrunched face between her hands as she attempts to plant a kiss on his lips. He holds her wrists, trying to get away from her; they are almost wrestling and it is all very childish and wonderful, like it used to be when they were children.

"Oh, come on, Ed. You know you'll love it."

"Winry!"

She finally manages to kiss him full on the mouth, and despite his struggling he doesn't even try to pull back. Instead, he deepens his lips against hers and she can taste traces of apple and cinammon. She giggles against him.

"Disgusting," he says through a smirk, his breath against her face.

"Idiot."

She smiles and feels content. She kisses him again, more softly this time, and feels his grin against her lips. She knows at least that he's content too.

I've decided to start writing some stuff again. This was kind of my re-introduction, probably, maybe. Hope you enjoyed!