Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Nor do I own the song "Naked," by Avril Lavigne.

Author's Note: I got a couple comments from you guys about Ed and Winry sharing his bed...there is nothing going on! I mean, he put a freaking pillow between them. I think, if he wanted to do something, he'd've done it already. But alas, he has not! And I don't plan on anything happening, either. Now that that is said, enjoy. Oh, we have 194 reviews up here. Hoping for 200 soon! That will be awesome. Thanks, everyone. :)

Extra note: First couple paragraphs are for you, Shura. hehehe


Chapter 18: Naked

It was way too early on a Sunday morning for the phone to be ringing, Edward thought as he fumbled for the offending piece of machinery. After two more rings, he found the device and brought it to his ear. He took a quick breath before speaking. "Hello?" he murmured into the phone, barely understandable through his sleep-hazed mind.

"Still asleep? No wonder you're so short!" came a voice Edward remembered he was in no mood to listen to that morning. He would have hung up on the man if a subconscious reminder told him Roy Mustang never called without a good reason. It was Hughes he had to worry about. "You never get any sunshine; it's a wonder you reached five-foot!"

Ed growled. "What do you want? It's barely six." He started to turn on his side to face the door, but a dragging sensation over his chest made him stop.

"There have been more reports of Scar's work, still in your area," the man said in an unbelievably chipper voice for such a dark topic - and for so early in the morning.

Confused, Ed cleared his throat. "Scar?" he questioned.

"Oh," Mustang made a mock-humble cough into the phone, "Hughes and his team formulated a nickname of sorts for him, because of his scar."

At the mention of Hughes, Ed groaned. Unfortunately, that was a bad thing to do when on the phone with a captain who had a dirty mind.

"Edward, where's Winry?"

"STFU," Ed spat compulsively. (Yes, he really said the letters. He does that often in the manga.) "What'd you call for?"

Mustang laughed. There was a nasty, sarcastic edge to his laugh that made Edward's fingers itch to smack off the smirk he knew was on his captain's face.

"All right. Keep an eye out for Scar. He knows you're a cop, thanks to you spectacle at the night club." There was a pause. "He doesn't seem too picky about his victims, as long as their police."

Ed made a manly noise of acknowledgement. "That all?"

"Actually," Mustang began in a completely different tone, one that Edward knew all too well, "I have Hughes here, who would like to—"

Ed hung up the phone before his boss could finish. He dropped the nuisance on the floor and started to settled himself again to go back to sleep. In the process of shifting, he felt the hand on his chest move again. Hesitantly, he looked down at Winry's hand on his bare chest. There was a difference in their skin tone, blatantly so. Her skin was pale, almost pearly, while his was between normal and tanned flesh. For some reason, the contrast just seemed so natural and normal. That was what began to scare Edward.

He was getting used to her. He was used to her being around; he was used to her complaints; he was even used to her PMS! He'd only been around for about a month or so, but that was enough to know what was going on when. She actually wasn't pissy all the time. No, there was one week out of the month where she was pushing intolerable. That week, Edward had stayed in the library or shoved poor Al in front of him.

Ed looked at her and started to chew on his lip. He was trying to decide what to do. He didn't know if he wanted to quit denying his feelings and finally tell her he loved her, or keep lying to himself and finish the case. Both options had upsides and downsides, so he wasn't going to get off easier on either choice. Pros and cons, he told himself. Figuring out the pros and cons of the situation would help. It'd make things a lot easier to figure out if he had it laid out in front of him.

So, he'd start with the cons of telling her. Yes, he was feeling negative that morning. No, it had everything and nothing to do with Mustang's phone call. And maybe a tiny variable had to do with the woman Edward was gazing lovingly at... Okay, maybe more than a tiny variable, but who was counting?

Well, if Ed told Winry he loved her, there was the chance that, once everything was over, she'd drop him like a hot potato. That was a fact that was ever present on his mind, concerning this subect. On the other hand, telling her could mean that something good happened in his life, maybe even something...long-term.

Ed looked off in a random direction and shuddered. Long-term? One word came to mind: commitment. Edward was committed. To his job!

Slowly, he looked back at Winry and sighed. At the moment she was his job.

Moving on.

Not telling her looked almost the opposite of telling her. The upside was avoiding that possible heartbreak if she changed her mind. The downside was maybe missing out on that horrifying, beautiful long-term relationship.

He had a quote from one of his drinking buddies go through his head. "Hey man, you know what? I hate to tell you this, because it really sucks, but...only Edward can make that decision for you."

Ed almost smiled at the memory, but instead scowled. He didn't remember what it concerned really, only that it was horribly true. Only he could make the desicion on whether or not he would tell Winry. He supposed things would come together with time. Hopefully. Until then, Edward was stuck trying to figure it out on his own.

He looked at the clock and saw it was a little after six. It would probably do well for him to get out of bed now, despite going to sleep at one AM. He'd just go to bed early that night. Besides, Al probably needed that stupid Vicodin by now.

So, a little reluctant to leave the warmth, Edward crawled out of bed and pulled the covers up to his pillow, semi-neatly. When he straightened, a twinge of mildly painful sensation went through his back. That was fine; he knew it was from sleeping on the couch yesterday. What worried him was the tingling feeling emanating from his right shoulder. It was unusual, thus unwelcome. Whenever he'd had feeling like this from his shoulder, it had never boded well. It had usually resulted in rushed, expensive visits to his home town to receive expert repair, maintenance, and routine short-guy jokes. But he didn't want to make a visit there with Winry in tow. Ed had put together the pieces a long time ago that the woman he was keeping safe was his mechanic's granddaughter.

Then he caught himself. He didn't even know if his shoulder was damaged. It was no use to fork out a large sum of money he didn't have for a two-way trip for three to see a family reunion. Ed knew it would probably be nice for Winry to see her grandmother again, but it would make traveling difficult when someone wanted her dead. Edward quickly made up his mind to let Winry inspect his arm when she woke up. She was, after all, the great Pinako Rockbell's granddaughter. Surely the young blond woman could tell if his arm was damaged.

As Edward went over to his desk to look for some of his case papers, he glanced at his bookcase. There was something wrong. Something was missing...

Upon further investigation, he saw that the photo of him, Al, and his mother was gone. But he didn't puzzle over it much, since Winry had been inspecting the pictures the previous day. It might have fallen behind his bed. So, Ed went on to his desk. The picture would show up. Eventually.


Somewhere across Central, in a busy building, sat a confused woman, gazing down into her lap. Not only was she confused, she was troubled, as well. She was remembering things she'd never done. Or at least, she didn't think she'd ever done them. For some reason, she remembered a red bathrobe with a black symbol on it. Why that particular object stuck out, she didn't know. It was all somewhere on the disturbing side of realizations and thoughts.

"Ms. Nichols," a commanding voice said, drawing her from her thoughts.

"Yes, sir?" the woman replied distractedly. She looked up at the rather intimidating man sitting at his desk across the room. The patch over his eye only added to the feeling of pride and power that came from him.

But he smiled. It made him appear a little softer around the edges. "You have a phone call."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir." She placed an item on the desk and stood up. With a hesitant glance at the picture, she shivered when she saw her likeness again. Then she ventured a look at her boss. No matter how much the man smiled, his pride would always show.


Ed grumbled as he turned his car off. He'd gotten a call from one of Al's friends from college about his makeup work, and had thusly been petitioned to go pick it up, halfway across town during lunchtime rush hour. That had not been what Edward had wanted to do for lunch. It was now one o'clock and he was flustered, aggravated, and hungry. His growling stomach was reminder enough that he hadn't eaten much, if anything at all that day. What he wanted to do was give Al his homework, shove some food down his throat, and then work on Winry's case. He'd neglected that lately, and it needed to be done.

It wasn't that he was procrastinating, it was just that they hadn't had any leads in the first few weeks of the case. Then suddenly everything had come up; Primus, Quintus, and quite possibly Secundus. Then Edward had been having bad vibes from work lately, too, especially near Mustang's boss' office, Mr. Tertius.

Suddenly, Edward stopped with his hand on the door. Something wasn't right, wasn't adding up... What was it? He thought a moment, but then shrugged it off as lack of food. He always had bad vibes at work.

Ed moved to open the door, but when he moved his arm, it twisted wrong and he suddenly felt another tingle go through his metal limb and down his back. He stiffened as the door opened and bit back a curse. He wouldn't yell, he tried to tell himself, but the pain was pulsing through his head now, too loudly for him to think. He emitted a few sickly sounding noises before going into the house. He shut the door with his foot and tried to take a deep breath. Once the door clicked shut, he let out a curse that would have brought his demise from Winry. As a second thought, he looked around to make sure that she wasn't standing somewhere close by, waiting to chop his head off with a dull butter knife.

Finding that the coast was clear, he made his way to Al's room to give him the papers. Ed would definitely have to have Winry look at his arm pretty soon. Maybe after he ate, he would find her and convince her to take a look at the shoulder joint.

"Hey, Al, you awake?" Edward asked when he opened his brother's door a bit.

"Yeah," Al replied from within.

Edward went into the room and tried to smile, but his arm was still hurting. "Here's your homework and assignments." He put the folder on his brother's desk.

Al was lying on his bed, looking out the window with a sullen expression on his face. Edward pulled the chair out from the desk and placed himself down onto it. "What's up?" he asked, knowing that it was never a good thing to let Al brood. Alphonse was someone who had to talk about his feelings, but always felt awkward bringing it up on his own. The only way for Al to talk about himself was for someone to ask him.

With a sigh, the younger man turned onto his back. He attempted a shrug, but his injured shoulder kept him from doing so properly. Inwardly, Ed grumbled. His brother was being closed-mouthed, so it was something that had to do with him. Though it wasn't always a bad thing, it wasn't usually a good thing, either. Now the next choice was whether Ed wanted to hear it.

"Come on," he found himself pressing, "I can tell there's something on your mind." Forcing his pain to the back of his mind, he smiled.

Al sat up with some effort and looked down in his lap. "It's weird," he mumbled.

Ed chuckled and moved to sit on his brother's bed. "What is?"

Another half-shrug. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but Winry's voice outside the door cut him off.

"Al, do you know if Edward is home yet?" she called. A second later, she poked her head around the door and smiled, looking a little surprised. "Oh, there you are."

Ed scowled at the bed. "What do you need?" he asked. "We're having guy talk." Couldn't she see that he and his brother were having a man-to-man discussion? Why was it that women always seemed to be able to interrupt at the worst possible moments?

"I was just going to let you know that there was some lunch made for you, if you were hungry," she said, looking a little dejected from his tone.

Lunch. The magic word to win Edward for as long as it took him to eat. So he smiled at Winry like she was his best friend. "Thanks. I'll get it in a few minutes," he said.

She stood in the doorway for a moment longer before going off to the living room. After a few seconds, they heard the TV turn on. Ed sighed and looked at his brother again. "Well?"

Al shook his head. "Never mind." Then he smiled. "Go eat lunch. She made macaroni and cheese," he said.

Ed frowned a little, but nodded. One of the ways he and Al were alike was that no one could get information out of them, easily, if they didn't want to talk about it. So, it would have been a fruitless effort for Ed to try to pester some facts out of his brother. He made to leave, but his brother's question stopped him.

"What about you?" he asked softly.

Already at the door, Edward looked over his shoulder. "My arm is hurting," he murmured before exiting into the hallway.

Winry was sitting on the couch with her notebook in her lap. The TV was on, but she wasn't paying attention to it. At least, Ed hoped not from the smutty movie that was playing. He merely blinked a few times before picking up the remote and turning the television off. Winry looked up at him, surprised again. "Hi," she said and offered a smile.

Edward put the remote back onto the couch arm. "Hey," he mumbled. Then he went into the kitchen to find a pot of macaroni and cheese on the stove. There was a bowl next to it, and a fork. Edward shook his head, wondering if he would have the heart and peace of mind to let her go if it came to that.

While he was dishing up his lunch, he heard Winry humming a tune and tapping her pen on the paper. He knew she was polishing her lyrics and probably writing down chords to her song. He had never been able to grasp music, and thought highly of those who could recall a certain note upon hearing it. Obviously, Winry was one of those people.

With a sigh, Ed sat at the bar and began to wonder about what Al would have asked him. It could have been any number of things, ranging from a Vicodin induced thought or something serious. Ed figured it would have been something serious, because his brother was pretty good at controlling his impulses. Until it came to abandoned kittens. Then, impulse took over and reason was left behind in the dust. It would really start to bug Edward if he didn't find out soon, but he had no idea where to start figuring it out, aside from it was "weird."

Okay, a lot of things were weird! The people who didn't eat meat were weird. The fact that water was mostly clear with a tiny tint of blue was weird. Edward and Winry's relationship-thing was weird!

Ed scratched his chin at that last thought. Maybe...? Then he shook his head. Nah, Al wouldn't worry about Ed and Winry unless there was something to worry about. Which there wasn't, right? Right? He scowled at his food.

"If you don't like it," he heard Winry say from behind him, "then don't eat it."

He turned his gaze on her wordlessly for a moment, then went back to scowling at his lunch. Just to let Winry know that her cooking was fine, he took a bite of the cheesy noodles and went back to his thoughts. He was really wondering what Al would have asked. Maybe he could convince Winry to have a chat with his brother, then interrogate her under any means necessary to find out what they talked about.

Edward snickered at the thought of "any means necessary." He knew Winry was wondering what the heck was going on in his head, so he would take the pleasure of not telling her.

When he finished his lunch, he pushed away from the bar and turned in his seat so he could look at the blond woman. He just looked at her, watching her movements. He knew it was bad for his personal morale of trying to fall out of love, but he didn't care at the moment. He'd had a sucky past few days, so he would do whatever the heck he wanted without hearing any protests from anyone else. At least, that was his preference. If someone wanted to say differently, they could. But Edward would just say, "Screw that," and go on doing things his own way for a while. Unless it came to Mustang. The man had a way to get Ed to do what he wanted without Ed realizing it until it was all over and done with. That brought a little scowl to his face, but he pushed it away. He was thinking about...well, he wasn't really thinking about anything at the moment. He was just looking in some direction with a nice focal point to study.

Edward knew he was making her nervous. She kept flicking her eyes over at him then back at her notebook. She'd only written about two chords in the past three minutes, and Edward knew it wasn't because composing music was hard. It was because he was unnerving her with his heavy stare. It wasn't like he was appraising her physique or anything. No, he'd done that last night. Unless something had changed, there was no need to do that again. He was just watching her. He'd actually watched Winry quite a bit in the month and few days that they had known each other. She had just never realized it. She only realized it now because he was about five feet from her. He was wondering how long she would last until she yelled at him or something.

But surprisingly, Edward was the first to speak.

"Winry?"

She didn't look up. A very relieved expression went over her face. Ed almost smiled. "Yes?" Her voice was soft, and he could tell she was trying to sound a little distant.

He slid off the barstool and sat next to her. "You said your grandmother was a mechanic, right?" he asked casually. Another twinge of pain shot through his arm and back when he shrugged. His shirt was catching on something.

Winry looked at him curiously. "Yeah, why?"

"And you said that you know about mechanics and stuff," Edward said lowly.

Slowly, she nodded. "Why?"

"Could you take a look at my arm, because it's been bothering me," he said, fighting back any slight embarrassment that tried to seep in. They were currently sharing a bed, and he'd walked in on a towel-clad Winry, so there wasn't much secret left to each other. Plus, she'd seen him without a shirt plenty of times. Why was this so different if she was going to look at his shoulder?

He knew why. It was one thing for her to look, but she would also be touching not only around his shoulder, but the metal limb he was slightly sensitive about. It had been a significant emotional event in his life that he hoped only he had to carry the burden of, so it was natural that he had a soft spot for it. Ed gave her his most convincing look, even though he had a sudden insecure feeling about it all. What happened next was something he had not expected.

Winry's eyes became all hopeful and shiny. The biggest smile he'd seen in a few weeks plastered itself over her mouth. To say in short, it was one of the most disturbing things Edward had seen in a while. He was beginning to wonder if asking her had been a bad idea. From the few stories he had heard about Winry, she did love her music. However, she had this underlying passion for mechanics that would surpass her music if it had the chance. A distrusting look came over his face when he looked at her again. She laughed at him.

"Sure," she said, controlling her impulsive expression and emotion. Winry set her notebook on the couch and stood up.

Edward, now genuinely confused, had no idea what to do. Usually when he was at his mechanic's house, there was a little pallet for him to lay on with a little table to place his arm. But, the closest thing he had to a pallet was...nothing. So, he stood up as well and went to the bar, hoping that his quarter of an idea would work.

Winry sat in the seat next to him patiently, with a more or less ecstatic look on her face. It took a moment for Ed to realize what she was waiting for. Then it occurred to him that he was wearing a pullover shirt, and too much movement in his arm would cause the artificial nerves to twinge. So, with one hand, he reached behind his neck and tugged on the collar of his shirt.

About two minutes and a lot of swearing later, Edward placed his left elbow on the counter and leaned his chin in his palm. Winry tossed his shirt over the bar into a pile of dirty clothes, then clapped her hands together like it was a job well-done. Ed had a feeling he would never live down having to have help getting his own shirt off with both arms. He'd had plenty of help dressing and undressing during his hospital and limb surgery days, but lately? He shook his head.

"Do you have any tools handy?" Winry asked after inspecting the plates covering the wires.

He nodded. "There's a little red toolbox in the island," he told her, inclining his head a little towards the approximate location. "Bottom drawer."

In a minute and some seconds, Edward sat a little nervously with Winry beside him, poking metal objects among his electric nerves. For some reason, it just didn't seem like the smartest idea, but it was too late now. He just had to suck it up and hope (and pray) she really knew what she was doing. He sat for quite a few minutes, listening only to silence while Winry poked around in his arm. He hesitantly stole a glance at her when his nervous tension became too much.

"So?" he asked, voice cracking a little from the lack of talking and moisture in his mouth.

She looked up as if she'd just noticed him there. Edward didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Who made this for you?" she asked. "The style looks like my grandmother's work."

Debating whether or not to tell her it was her grandmother's work - he didn't know what type of reaction he'd get - he did a one-shoulder shrug, much like Al's earlier. "A good friend of mine from my hometown," he answered nonchalantly. "She does armor work, and wanted a challenge. I proved one for her." He heard Winry laugh from beside him.

"A good challenge. It's beautiful," she commented and continued to poke around, twisting things here or there.

Ed cleared his throat. "So, ah, can you tell what's broken?" he asked. "If it's broken?"

She laughed again. "It's definitely got some damage to it. I'm surprised you didn't notice it sooner. There's a dent in one of the plates, and some wires rubbed on an edge and frayed."

"Can you fix it?" Ed was afraid to hope, because the possibility that they would have to go see her grandmother was still hanging in the air.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "My grandmother did stuff like this all the time, and I helped her a lot when I lived with her, after..." She trailed off and started playing with the wires.

Ed furrowed his brow. He was about to ask, "After what?" but he had a feeling he already knew what the end of her sentence would have been. So, instead, he nodded and let her continue her work in silence.


About an hour later, Edward stood up and stretched his arms out. Then he crossed his right arm over his chest, hooked his left arm around it, and pulled it closer, seeing how the docking port felt on his shoulder. A little pull on his skin, but not enough to hurt. The metal in his arm and the metal in the port creaked when they touched.

"What do you think?" Winry asked hopefully.

Ed smiled at her. "No pain," he told her. "Thanks, Win." Before he could think of his action, or even try to stop himself, Edward leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Before he could recover from that unexpected action, he felt Winry wrap her arms around his waist to keep him close to her. He looked at her softly, not even realizing he was looking up slightly. He was suddenly caught up in a moment that was bigger than both of them. He lifted his hand to her cheek and rubbed his thumb lightly over her lips.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he neared her face, "that I keep confusing you like this." He moved his hand further into her hair.

Ed didn't give her a chance to respond before he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her as gently as he could at that moment. It wasn't only because gentleness was what Winry needed, it was also for him to know what he wanted, if he wanted this for however long it would last. Slowly and at a leisurely pace, he deepened the kiss and very soon lost himself in the soft passion and the emotions that were welling in him. When Edward felt his control slipping away, he pulled back from her and looked away for a moment. Winry lifted his face again with a smile on her features. Wordlessly, she began the kiss again and Edward felt it in himself to take the lead of it all once more.

He was just amazed by it all. Here he was, a twenty-one year old man who had problems trusting, but found himself wordlessly handing his heart to a woman he'd only known for a month or so. He just felt so bare around her, like all of his secrets were open for her to see and look at. Normally, it would have bothered him, but for some reason, it just felt so right for him to feel that way around her. It was a new feeling that he couldn't escape from. If he could, though, Edward didn't know if he would want to. He wondered if Winry sensed how he felt, and what she thought about it. It bothered him a little to know that she could have an opinion of him that she didn't share. It bothered him more that the opinion could be good or bad.

Edward pulled away, but kept her close to him. "Winry," he whispered, his voice a little hoarse. "I..." He wanted to say something, anything meaningful. He wanted to tell her he cared for her, that he wanted to spend an indefinite amount of time with her. He wanted to tell her he loved her. But the words wouldn't come. Nothing came to mind, and nothing came out of his mouth except a soft, quite sigh. He kissed her again, momentarily, and then just held onto her.

How was it he could be so in love and still doubt that she loved him back? How was it that she could still stand him after all of the things she'd learned about him? How was it that, even though Edward felt so bare, so naked around her, he could still hold onto her like he was now?