Edward awoke slowly to the dark quiet bedroom he shared with Winry. There was noise, only the feel of a gentle breeze washing over his bare skin and the blonde girl tucked into the crook of his left arm. A peaceful look softened her expression and she moved closer to him, her arm draped over his warm chest. He looked down at her sleeping form and thought of all she had given him. She was the one who gave him his arm and leg back. She was the one who had given him and Al a home again. She was the one who had returned his love, something he didn't give freely. She knew every inch of him. She knew every bolt, every rivet of his automail and could tune it in her sleep. She renewed his confidence that he and Alphonse would accomplish their goal. She took care of him, as much as he would let her. She worked hard in her studies to build him the best arm and leg possible. Many times he had found her slumped over her worktable, asleep. He had also time and again gone to move in their bed and hit a wrench or a screwdriver. He would start to get mad, but one look at her, and it faded away. He had never been able to stay mad at her for very long, even as kids. He allowed his lips to curve upward in a reminiscent smile as he meandered down memory lane, stopping at his childhood. The three of them had had some good times, playing hide and seek by the river, running in and out of each other's houses. Sometimes when he looked at Winry, all of a sudden he was seven years old again, and he had to fight the urge to grin like an idiot. He supposed it was things like that that supported his theory that he loved her. Theory, ha. They both knew better. Sometimes when he thought of all she did for him, all the worry he caused her, he felt bad knowing all he had to offer her was his love. But, at the same time, when he looked at her, her eyes said it was more than enough.
-Fin-