~A/N:

After two months without an update, here is Story Nine. I know a lot of people are probably annoyed that I haven't posted this one for so long, but I couldn't think of anything I wanted to write about, and, I'll be honest, I didn't feel like working on Little Wonders. But a good idea finally came to me this month, and after finishing some of my other projects, I turned to this. The idea for this chapter came from Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, and that is how the March sisters, mainly Meg and Amy, have to battle against being jealous of other girls and their luxuries, which is where I got Winry's struggle in this story from. Along the way, I realized this could be a standalone fic focused more on Winry than the early stages of the romance she and Edward share, but I wrote it specifically for LW and feel like it has a place here. I will go ahead and warn you though that it takes a little while to get into the actual "little wonder", but it is definitely there, just in the second half. Hopefully, I will begin work on the finale pretty soon. I want to thank everyone who still reads this, even after the horribly long delay, and I really am sorry for that. But I hope you enjoy, and feel free to review and let me know what you think and inform me if I missed any grammatical errors ;).

StarKatt427

Story Nine: Desire

...Because she wouldn't mind looking nice in front of a certain boy...

At three o'clock on most days, when school was let out and Winry was free to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, she was usually found walking cheerily, if looking somewhat lonely, down the dirt road to her house, her expression calm and eyes dancing with a smile, school bag slung over one shoulder, blonde ponytail swishing gently. Now, however, anyone who passed would have found it obvious something had been said or done to upset the poor girl, as she stomped rather than walked, face without its pale brilliancy and instead ruddy with color, eyes narrowed under furrowed brows, her mouth pulled into something that was not quite a scowl but surely a frown. To finish it all off, her backpack was dragging the ground, strap gripped tightly in one fist.

Winry was not one for envying others. As part of her upbringing, she had been taught to be thankful for what she had and be content, which had proved a rather easy task for her even after the death of her parents. She had never felt deprived, even with the little money that her grandmother and her did make, and she was happy with her life, Granny and the boys the brightest spots.

However, it was hard for her to not become jealous when she saw something pretty and wanted it, as with all little girls. Walking briskly, trying to get as far away from school and the people there as possible, she nearly tripped in her haste and took a short moment to regain her footing before tromping on.

Up until today, Winry had felt like she was pretty. Not a vain person by nature and only the smallest bit conceited if the mood hit her right, it had simply been known to her that she was nice looking. She was the spitting image of her mother, tried to at least look like she cared more about her hair than working on automail, and was content with her looks.

Then Margery Stryder shattered the image she had of herself.

Many people, even in Resembool, had heard stories of the wealthy, well known Stryders of Central. Henry Stryder was a judge, one of the most powerful not just in the capital, but in the entire country of Amestris. He was spoken of well and respected by most, as were his wife and many children. Winry hadn't been concerned in the least with the justice system or the perks it brought along if you knew the right people, but when the teacher had announced that morning the youngest Stryder child would be studying at their small country school, it surprised and fascinated her. If her high status hadn't been enough to pull everyone in, her looks were: to but it simply, the young lady was gorgeous.

On introducing herself, Margery had quickly explained that she was here not own her own violation, but because her father had felt a change in scenery would be nice for her. She didn't seem too impressed with what she saw, but she seemed to be trying to make the best of the situation, and her green eyes had swept sharply over every face before her, which had left Winry feeling like a hick in comparison in her simple clothes.

The morning had gone by smoothly, but when Winry noticed her few girl friends flocking around the new pupil, she had somewhat reluctantly followed, not exactly fond of the girl but still captivated by her. When she had joined the many people surrounding her at recess, Margery had been in the middle of telling them about life in the city, how she and her family had their own personal driver and a mansion filled with foreign relics, how she'd vacationed once in Xing and could speak the language fluently, and when she had received doubt from this last statement, had broken into the dialect smoothly and without trouble. When asked how she liked Resembool, she'd explained to everyone that she found it different, not at all like the city, but that it had its own charm.

For some reason, this had struck a nerve in Winry, possibly because of the patronizing air she'd spoken with, or the way her eyes seemed to hold a haughtiness hidden by appeal. She'd remained silent though, her attraction for the girl steadily departing and leaving her with a slight frown.

When it was stated that the country had so little compared to Central and that there was hardly anything here to purchase, Winry felt a simmering heat bubble up in her chest that was not anger alone, and she had found silence impossible. Calmly, only letting the smallest of irritation slip into her voice and keeping her expression neutral, she had stated, "There's plenty of things we have here that you don't."

Margery had looked at Winry then with those large, catlike eyes, as if noticing her for the first time since that morning. In less than a second though, she had quickly returned the comment, giving a small smile filled with fake thoughtfulness as she'd looked at Winry with sympathy. "I'm sure you do," she'd stated, voice sweet with pity and as if trying to placate, like she was speaking to a little kid.

Anger had turned into pure rage then, but Winry, already becoming a very tact person, had given the girl an smile equal in false politeness, eyes flashing with strength even as she felt her cheeks grow horribly hot. Margery's smile had slipped slightly, as if she understood Winry would not back down, and then Winry had affirmed, "Yes, we do." Forcing her hands to remain loose, she had turned then, whipping her ponytail over her shoulder and walking off with proud shoulders and her head held high, even as her eyes had began to water with tears and she felt like she'd been slapped.

The last three hours of school had gone by slowly, with Winry trying to act normal and saying little, only speaking when the teacher called on her, and completely ignoring the black haired girl two rows over.

Resurfacing from the day's events, Winry felt her cheeks flush all over again, just like they had when Margery had spoken those words and had given her that stuck-up look. She kicked at the ground, hardly able to find it within herself to feel proud about how she had handled the situation, wishing she had smashed in that girl's pretty face instead of acting as undaunted as she had. But that wouldn't have gotten her anywhere, and she knew that, so she'd settled for the next best thing: burning her with a phony smile and acting as if she wasn't discouraged.

However, now that she was away from her friends and teacher and her, Winry couldn't help but glare down at her clothes, feeling plain in her faded purpled skirt, T-shirt and old sneakers compared to Margery's leather vest and designer knew she wasn't interested in elaborate apparel like that, but seeing someone else wearing them had made something boil in her blood and pound in her chest, and she wanted to look like that, to be perfect and beautiful in fashionable outfits, rich enough to have anything she wanted.

So it didn't come as too big a shock when Winry realized she was jealous.

By this time, she was in the yard, almost to the porch, and she stopped. Trying to put her anger and jealousy aside, she closed her eye and took several deep, soothing breaths as she attempted to lock away the mass of violent red and acerbic green that swam around her heart and tried to cloud her judgment. Once she had mostly succeeded, only small twinges left but her mood still sour, she walked up the steps and opened the door quietly, hoping to be unnoticed.

"Winry?"

She groaned. Today was just not her day.

"Winry, that you?"

"Yes, Granny," she called through partly clenched teeth as she threw her bag on the floor, then walked down the hall to her grandmother's workroom, where the old woman sat over a short piece of partially grafted automail, a screw driver in her hand and a box of bolts within reach. "What do you need?" Winry asked, trying to keep her tone from sounding too upset.

Pinako Rockbell looked over at her and lifted an eyebrow, clearly seeing something she didn't like, but said nothing about it. Instead, she lifted the piece of metal she was working on and gave Winry a half smile. "I've been waiting for you to get home. I need your opinion on something."

Winry felt pleased if a little shocked, and she smiled amazedly. "Really?"

"Of course. You're in training, aren't you? Your thoughts are important."

"Oh," she said, unable to say much of anything else. "Um, okay. Cool."

She could tell her grandmother was either trying not to laugh or roll her eyes. "Now quite dallying and get over here."

Winry complied and walked to the woman's side, where she looked at the beginnings of an automail hand and wrist, the fingers already cast. The back of the hand was open to reveal narrow spaces where the many wires would go, and several of the screws had already been put in.

"Now," her grandmother said, motioning to the metal limb. "First of all, what kind of joint is the wrist?"

"Gliding," Winry answered immediately, having leaned this and many other anatomical facts years ago.

"Correct. This will be attached to someone's arm." Granny motioned as if to bend the wrist. "So we're going to have to make this specially, since it's a joint. They're more difficult to make and are harder to adapt to."

"I know," Winry said, thought going to Edward's new leg, his knee, and she wondered just how much pain and stress recovery put him through. "But what do you need me for?"

"I'm trying something new. Normally, the screws would go here," Pinako said, pointing to two placed on top of the wrist with the screwdriver. "We did that with Ed's, but we also installed them on the sides.

Winry knew what she was getting at, and her mind was already racing with ideas and possibilities, gears turning as she imagined just how the joint would function. "So you're thinking about also putting those two on the wrist, or just them by themselves and none and top?"

The old woman sighed slightly. "Not sure which yet. That's why I wanted to ask you."

Winry blinked. "But you know way more about automail than me."

This time, her grandmother did roll her eyes. "That's because I've had years of practice, child. But I want to know which you think would work better."

She considered this, thoughts racing around in her head. If four screws total were installed, it could possibly slow the wrist down, and it would probably take more time to take care of. On the other hand, if just the two screws on the sides were fitted, the wrist would move more quickly, but could lose adroitness.

"Two on top, one on each side," she stated surely.

"You think?"

The look her granny gave her, slightly disbelieving with raised eyebrows, was almost enough to make her change her mind. But she knew this game the old woman played, and she was certain she was accurate in her decision. "Yes."

For a moment, Pinako's expression didn't change. But then she gave Winry a grin and nodded approvingly. "Same thing I was thinkin'."

Winry smiled back, looking from her grandmother to the automail and back, wishing she had something to work on at the moment to keep her hands busy and mind preoccupied. "Thanks for asking, Granny."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, turning in her chair to face Winry fully. "Now, I have something else to ask you."

"Okay."

"What happened at school?"

Winry inwardly moaned, having completely forgotten the way her grandmother had first looked at her, like she read something in her expression that had completely given her away. Knowing it was useless to play dumb with Granny, she simply said, "It's nothing bad. I took care of it."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Granny, it's no big deal," she argued.

"When I see my granddaughter looking around with a uncharacteristic frown and dull eyes, I know something's wrong. Now tell me," Pinako demanded firmly.

Winry felt her face droop, and she crossed her arms over her stomach and sighed, looking down at her feet. "We got a new student."

"And?"

"And I don't like her."

"Care to explain why?"

Winry smiled dryly. "I don't really have a choice now do I?"

Her grandmother smirked briefly. "Good answer. Now continue."

She backed up until she was against the wall, trying to get away from her grandmother's inquisitive eyes. "This girl came from Central and started acting like she was better than everyone, even though she was being nice. She said we didn't have anything good like the city, and I got mad and told her we still had a lot of cool things. Granny, you should have seen the way she looked at me," Winry said, finally lifting her eyes. "She treated me like I was some stupid yokel and that I was too poor to even compare with her."

Pinako listened quietly, but her eyes were intense. "So what happened?"

Winry felt a small bit of satisfaction slip through, and she grinned slightly. "I looked right back and her and smiled like she didn't bother me."

The woman's wrinkled face lifted into a smile. "Good girl. Kill 'em with kindness."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I feel good. She was so pretty, and everyone liked her except me, and she's rich, Granny. You should have seen her clothes and how pretty she is."

"Looks don't make up a person."

"They sure help," Winry said, unable to hide her bitterness. She hated feeling like this, but the jealousy just didn't want to go away and leave her be, restore her back to the comfortable life she'd known.

Her grandmother sighed, lifting her hand and motioning toward her. "Come here a second." When Winry reached her and stood waiting, frowning and trying not to feel sorry for herself, expecting some encouraging word from the granny, she instead received a hard hit on the top of her head.

"Ow!" she cried, reaching up and rubbing the tender spot with her hand. It hadn't been hard enough to make her eyes sting, but it sure hurt, and her fingers probed the area where her grandmother had smacked her with the butt of her screwdriver. "Geez, what was that for?"

"To knock some sense into that head of yours," Pinako answered evenly, placing the tool down and looking at Winry, who couldn't help but pout and narrow her eyes slightly. "Look," the old woman continued, "you're human, so you're gonna get angry with people. You handled that nicely, and I'm proud of you for that, even thought if hurt your feelings and made you mad. But I will not tolerate you pitying your own self, even if that little brat does."

"Granny—"

"Everyone gets jealous sometimes, it's natural. But you can't let that control you. That's when it gets out of hand and makes your soul sick. That girl may have nice things, but do you think she has any real friends?"

Winry blinked, considering the question, and her hand slipped from her head. "No? Probably not," she admitted. Maybe Margery's life was like today, when all of those students had been crowding around her; so many people paying her attention because of her wealth and title, but no one ever really knowing her.

Pinako nodded. "Or do you think she has half the smarts you do if she's so concerned with what's she's wearing?"

Winry shook her head.

"Do you think she has two brothers that always have her back?"

She blushed, looking away as it grew hard to swallow. "But Ed and Al aren't my real brothers," she said softly, reluctantly.

"Maybe not, but they're always going to be there for you. They won't ever forget about you, and that's more than I can say for that Stryder girl."

Winry looked up, shocked. "You knew who I was talking about?" she asked, slightly aghast.

"Of course, everyone's been talking about it all over town," Granny said, waving her hand like it was unimportant. "But back to what I was saying: Are you gonna let her get the best of you? Let resentment get the best of you?"

Winry imagined Margery, all perfect and smooth, as cold as a statue but with less emotion. She thought about how nice her clothes were, then tried to imagine her own self in them and found she couldn't; they just weren't her. Central, the biggest and brightest city in Amestris, was home to that girl, but could it ever be to Winry?

"No," she replied, smiling surely, somewhat fierce in her victory at overcoming this. Sure, she would love to have nicer things, but she was happy, and that was more than Margery could ever be. She didn't have everything she wanted, but she had what she needed.

Pinako smiled approvingly, chuckling. "Glad that's settled. Now, I'm gonna go start on dinner," she said, hopping down from her chair and popping her back. "And you're going to pick that backpack up and take it to your room."

Winry couldn't help but laugh; her grandmother really was like a bat with her hearing. "Okay, Granny." She turned and left the room, walking back down the hall and grabbing her bag. "Hey, where are the boys?" she called to her grandmother, now in the kitchen.

"I think they went outside an hour ago," she answered. "They said they were going to go looking through the woods. Don't know what for, but if they bring any snakes in this house, I'll clobber 'em."

Winry walked by the kitchen, bag over her shoulder, and she leaned in and smiled at her grandmother. "Thank you."

"Uh huh," she replied gruffly, but Winry could see her smiling from where she stood by one of the cabinets. "Now go get on that homework, unless you plan on being in my way all day."

"Whatever you say," Winry said, laughing as she started up the stairs.

And she stopped short, eyes widening as a thought struck her out of nowhere.

Granny was her father's mother, and all of his old things still resided in the bedroom he'd slept in with her mother. Which also meant that Sara's things were there as well, which included her clothes.

There were dresses up there.

"Hey, Granny?"

"What now?"

"Can I go in Mom and Dad's room?"

Pinako appeared in the doorway, looking up at her, faintly concerned." Honey, you sure you're okay?"

Winry laughed lightly, a real laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just…wanted to know if I could look at Mom's clothes."

This would help, Winry knew it would. As a little girl, she had always found her mother's dresses the most beautiful in the world, even the ones that weren't fancy. If she looked at them, she thought she might be able to appreciate her life—and her mother's life—more.

Granny seemed to understand this, and she sighed, smiling slightly. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

Winry hadn't been in her parents' bedroom in six months.

As she opened the door, the musty cleanness of it filled her nostrils, and she looked around the light colored room; beige walls, blue and white bed linens, and ocean colored furniture. It was familiar and alien, a mere shadow of what had once been filled with traces of life. But she still loved this room, and it filled her with a sense of buttery warm comfort.

When she'd first heard her parents had been killed, Winry had walked into their room and, grabbing one of her father's shirts and one of her mother's dresses, had crawled up on the bed and cried into their clothes. But after that, she'd been afraid to enter this sacred domain, until she'd slowly grown out of this and eventually came to find console and peace by walking into the room where she had tottered on the floor as an infant at her parents' feet. When something was bothering her or the loss of them grew too great, she would sit on the queen size bed and flip through old photo albums or letters they had written, shedding a few tears and sometimes falling asleep.

The last time she had been in here was the night the brothers had tried to bring their mom back and had shown up at her house, Al carrying a bloodied Ed in through the door. She had walked into their bedroom sometime around midnight, exhausted and on the verge of tears and begging for the strength and courage to get through that nightmare. And she had, pulling every ounce of power she could find within herself to keep her composure and staying strong for the boys' sake, knowing her parents were somehow watching her and hoping they were happy.

Slowly, the memories of that time just months ago still flushing through her mind, she walked through the threshold and over the smooth wood, stopping to skim her fingers over the soft, lacy bedding. She sighed, smiling slightly as she recalled petting at the comforter when she was little, before pulling back and walking over to the large dresser, fingers passing over framed photographs and touching the jar filled to the brim with the sea glass her parents had collected over the years. Leaving these things behind, she walked to the twins closets, one having been her father's, the other her mother's.

Briefly, Winry opened the closet to the left, allowing the smell of her father's clothes to swell over her, the sharpness she had never been able to put a name to, clean and sharp, mixed with age, and she touched the edge of one of his shirts. She closed her eyes, missing the way he would brush her cheeks with his stubble and she would smell his neck. Shakily exhaling, she shut this closet, then slowly opened the other.

Filled with her mother's dresses and nicer shirts and slacks, it was a colorful mixture of pastels and brighter shades, ranging from carnation pink to Egyptian blue, from ivory to black. The smell was stale and floral, like honeysuckle, smelling so sweet that Winry felt her eyes water and her body long for the warmth given her by one of her mother's hugs. But she didn't cry, instead reaching in and gently looking through the dresses. Picking out several that she found the prettiest, including the one that she could remember seeing her mom wear most, she pulled them out and laid them on the bed.

When she had been little, Winry had once played dress up with her mother, the young woman painting her face and fixing her hair and putting her in a dress and low heels. Now, Winry was going to play again, this time by herself.

Leaving the dresses on the bed, she walked over to her mother's vanity set, eyes searching over half used perfume bottles and candles, until she found what she was looking for. She lifted one of the small blue tubes and inspected it, then grabbed another after deciding she didn't like the color. The next one caught her attention, and after looking at the other three and deciding she liked it the best, she quickly sat down and applied a small coat of coral lipstick. Rubbing her lips together and making sure she hadn't used too much, Winry smiled and decided it looked good on her.

Not worrying with other makeup items, Winry stood and walked back to the bed, where, keeping her own clothes on, she slipped a spring green sleeveless dress off its hanger and slid it over her head, then smoothed it out in front and back. Straightening the neck line over her shirt, she walked to the floor mirror.

Winry smiled, nearly laughed, at her reflection.

The dress was gorgeous but looked silly on her, most likely because it was far too long, falling several inches above her ankles instead of resting just below her knees, and it hung loosely around her chest, intended for someone many years older. Still, she didn't feel childish at the moment, too caught up in how, even with her hair slightly disheveled and looking like she was wearing a bed sheet, she thought she resembled her mother tremendously, even more so than usual.

And so she continued, sliding out of one dress and climbing into another, turning this way and that to get better glances at herself, laughing at the way she looked in some or simply smiling at others, walking around the room and peeking back at herself. She tried on several day dresses and one that was lavish and violet colored, clearly to be worn for special occasions. The next-to-last one Winry put on, her mother's favorite, was a jasmine yellow sundress that would probably fit her nicely when she got older, and she wondered if it would be alright if she did wear eventually. Once off of her body and back on its rightful hanger, she picked up the last dress, and she smiled at her favorite before eagerly sliding it on.

It brushed her top of her calves and would have come to right above her knees if she had been taller. The material was thin and light, cotton, and felt good against her legs, short sleeves fitting comfortably around her biceps even with a shirt on and being too loose around her chest and stomach and hips. It was red, not quite scarlet, and when she spun, it twirled elegantly around her. Winry smiled brightly, suddenly deciding that if Granny would let her, she would definitely wear this in a few years.

A stifled laugh, followed by a scrape and a muttered curse from outside the room, made her jerk toward the door, where, to her horror, she noticed she hadn't completely shut it. Through the crack, she could see Ed and Al watching her, Edward kneeling on the floor and Alphonse crouched above him. Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw drop.

When it was obvious they had been caught, Edward broke the newfound silence by busting out into hard laughter, halfway falling against Al and mortifying Winry almost as much as she had been earlier at school. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she closed her mouth and tried to keep her lips from trembling, both from rage and distress, as she glared fiercely at them with over bright blue eyes.

Al, for his part, seemed repentant. He stood up, entire manner apologetic, even as a suit of armor, and he looked from Winry to Edward anxiously, taking a moment to grab his brother's shoulder and say, "Come on, Brother, that's enough."

Ed snickered, opening his eyes up enough so that he could see Winry while he grinned at her. "That's some show you were putting on, but aren't you a little old to be playing dress up?" he managed to get out, and then he was lost to hysterics again, leaning against the wall.

It was getting extremely hard not to cry now, whether from anger or hurt, she didn't know, but her vision was steadily growing more clouded, eyes filling. Still too shocked and upset to say anything, she glowered at them, eyes icy. What was their problem? It was bad enough they had actually seen her prancing around in too big dresses and looking like a five-year-old; it made things worse that Ed was laughing as hard as he was and openly mocking her.

And then a thought crept up out of nowhere, an unwelcome shock that made her feel almost as hurt and worried as she was angry, and her cheeks grew hotter. Edward was laughing at how she looked, so did that mean she looked as stupid and ugly as she felt right now?

God, she wanted a wrench right now.

"Ed, really. Stop," Alphonse said, this time more commanding, voice serious, apparently able to see the moisture filling her eyes. She didn't care, still too mad at him, even while he tried to wrangle his brother.

Trying not to giggle, Edward sat up and looked at Winry, and the last traces of his snicker vanished slowly, as if finally realizing that she was looking down at him with tearfully wrathful eyes. She realized her hands were shaking, hard, and her restraint was beginning to slip. She had put up with enough today; she didn't need to be ridiculed by her two best friends.

Ed gave a nervous half laugh and made it to his feet, eyes somewhat cautious, clearly able to tell Winry was about to either scream at them or cry or both. He stepped into the room, followed by his younger brother. "Hey, come on, we were just playing."

She didn't say anything, and she felt her shoulder jerk.

Al lifted his hands imploringly. "We came by and heard you laughing, so we wanted to know what you were doing in here. And, well…when we saw you…we, um…" He trailed off, completely at a loss for how to finish his thought.

He was trying to be nice, and Winry knew that; Alphonse was not one to make fun of people, too sweet to think it enjoyable. Still, he had stayed and watched her when she thought no one would be able to, and that was enough to make her resent him, at least for a little while. The main problem was Ed, who didn't have trouble openly mocking people, even the ones he cared about, and especially over something like this. He knew how sacred mothers were; he should have respected this.

She watched as Edward smiled warily, clearly knowing he was in trouble and trying to talk his way out of it. "Honestly, it was—"

"Get out."

The command sounded nothing like her, harsh and cold but with tints of emotion, like the way her voice cracked on the last word, and she tried to make her eyes piercing as she frowned at them, her hands now fists.

Shock was apparent on his face, as in the way his body seemed to freeze, and he looked at her with large eyes, smile slipping. "What?"

"You heard me," Winry said, praying that the water wouldn't spill from her eyes. "Go away."

Edward's eyebrows furrowed, and she couldn't see any emotion from Alphonse due to the helmet, but his voice was soft and apologetic when he spoke. "Winry, please don't be made. We weren't trying to be mean."

She looked at him, trying to keep her glare in place and give him a moment to let it sink in that to her, they had been mean, namely Ed. He seemed to catch on after a minute, because he ducked his head.

When she turned back to Edward, she found him with narrowed eyes, not quite frowning as he stared at her. He cocked his head to the side, studying her.

Oh no. Oh no oh no. Winry knew exactly what he was doing, and she made her eyes appear harder, flash brighter, her scowl deepening. She wasn't going to let him figure out something else was bothering her, and that was if he hadn't already; it was hard enough to admit it to herself.

If Ed had laughed at her now, when she was at least attempting to see how fixing up made her look, how would he react to Margery Stryder, the embodiment of attractiveness?

It was childish, letting that bother her almost as much as his laughter; it was also impossible, as Ed showed little interest in girls, solely focused on getting Al back to normal. But the thought worried her, for a reason she wasn't sure of, and she hated that it made her feel even worse and caused her eyes to grow even wetter, made emotion balloon up in her chest.

For just a fraction of an instant, her control slipped, and she felt something flash like lightning over her face, and all she could hope for was that Ed hadn't noticed.

He full out frowned now, eyes unreadable but expression telling her that he had, in fact, seen in. Edward walked toward her until there was just a few inches between them, and Winry felt something light up in her chest; more anger maybe? It was hot and jumpy and made her fingernails claw the inside of her palms, and she kept her eyes locked down on his, her frown furious but not quite as powerful as his own.

Suddenly aware that she was beginning to lose ground, she did her best to snarl out, "I said go away!"

It came as a shock when Edward did not rise back with a retort and yell at her in return; instead, he looked steadily at her, golden eyes strangely intense and glowing almost, hard and, beneath, softer, like he really had seen what she was trying to hide. Voice quiet and unnaturally calm, he said, "Make me."

His eyes were scorching in their gaze and seemed to rip away every one of her defenses, leaving her with eyes that were widening and lips that pulled out of their frown. She blinked at him.

And then she started crying, unable to force the moisture back any longer as she lifted her hands and buried her face in them.

The tears were hot as the fell down her cheeks and onto her hands, made from jealous acid, and Winry couldn't fight the sob that welled up in her chest. She hated this, feeling so petty and sensitive and immature, even when she was trying not to let her envy of Margery and being teased by Ed get the better of her, and she was unable to stop crying, sniffling and wishing she could just disappear; if she hadn't been humiliated before, she definitely was now.

Why did it hurt so bad when Edward made fun of her? Yes, he teased her often, and she had mostly grown used to it. But when she was already in a fragile state and trying to recover and he just had to come along and ruin it, that was when she lost it and wanted to bash his brains in. It was obvious he was insensitive, but shouldn't he have a bit more discretion then what he'd just displayed? But then Winry realized he might just, because he wouldn't have looked at her like that if he hadn't been able to understand her so well.

Looking at the floor, she moved one of her hands and wiped at her eyes, sniffing thickly and trying not to hiccup, throat clogged with tears and feeling like the biggest idiot ever born into existence.

And then a hand landed on her shoulder and patted it, awkward in its reassuring. "Hey," Edward said, voice slightly rough and uncomfortable, just as he always sounded when she was crying and he tried to be nice. "Quit being a crybaby. I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry."

Not the most eloquent of apologies by any standards, but when Winry opened sticky eyes and looked past her fist at him, her anger began to trickle away, because even if he hadn't said it with enough force to make someone believe him, his eyes held the truth, and she understood that he honestly meant what he said. Looking up at her, his golden eyes were swirling and troubled and anxious, mouth pulled down unhappily, and she sucked up her tears as best she could, wiping her nose.

His eyes changed then, tightened, and he gripped her shoulder gently with his flesh hand. "You don't believe me, do you?" he asked softly.

Winry couldn't help it; she smiled, giving a wet chuckle and clearly telling him she did. She could still hear his laughter and taunts, but it didn't hurt as much anymore, now a light sting that would soon go away, and she forgave him and Alphonse.

He smiled then too, then quickly ruffled her hair, the incident clearly gone from his mind. "Good. Now," Ed said, Al coming to stand behind him, and both stared at her seriously, even with Alphonse having no real eyes. "Tell us what's really wrong."

Winry sighed, defeated, and hung her head slightly as she sat back on the bed, rubbing her hands over her damp face. Al sat beside her with care, and Ed moved to the vanity chair, and then they were both waiting. "Just a rough day," she said softly, voice stopped up, knowing there was no way either would let it end with that.

"What else?" Ed demanded, wincing as he shifted his automail leg.

Instead of out rightly answering, Winry looked from Alphonse to Edward, trying to decide how she could admit how silly she had been without being made fun of again. "Have you…have you ever wanted something you couldn't have?" she asked, her eyes traveling from Al to Ed.

She didn't realize her mistake until it was too late.

Edward's eyes went distant for a moment, like he had drifted far away, and then they were locked fully on her, regretful and hard and hiding emotion, clearly thinking about his and Al's mother and what had prompted them to attempt Human Transmutation. "Yes," he stated softly.

Winry wished she had bit her tongue, guilt immediately gnawing up at her at asking that question. "Ed, I'm so—"

"Forget it," he said dismissively, taking a quick glance at his brother that no one but Winry would have seen, as if searching to see if Alphonse was alright. She looked in time to see Al nod faintly, and then she turned back to Ed as he said, "Keep going."

Winry sighed, still feeling awkward about what had just taken place but continuing nonetheless. "Well, there's this…this new girl at school, and…well…she's…"

"What? A bitc—"

"Brother," Alphonse warned, making Winry smile and Edward look just the slightest bit deterred, but he didn't continue his thought.

"Yeah, you could say that," Winry said to Ed. "She's from Central and her father's a big time judge, so she's rich."

"Then why'd she come here?" Al asked curiously.

"He made her. She's here for the rest of the semester, but I'm not sure I can handle her for that long," Winry confessed.

"And why is that?" Edward asked, propping his elbow on the vanity and resting his cheek on his palm. While his posture implied he was barely listening, his eyes were inquiring, and she could tell he was thinking, trying to figure out what she would say next.

"It's just…I want to punch her. She thinks she's better than everyone and that Resembool's a dump, and then she went and treated me like I was an idiot at recess."

Alphonse twiddled his thumbs, red-white eyes on her. "You…didn't hit her, right?"

She smiled dryly. "No, but I probably would have felt better if I had. I just smiled back and pretended like nothing was wrong."

Edward was grinning at her. "I would have just punched her, but I guess your way's effective too."

Al gave a nod, clearly glad she did not choose to hit anyone. But then he was looking at her again, and even while he had no real expressions, Winry sensed concern. "That's not all, is it?" he stated more than asked.

Here came the embarrassing part. How did you tell two boys that you were jealous over appearances, especially when all these two cared about was alchemy? "Yeah, um, since she's so rich, she had a lot of…nice things."

"'Nice things'?" Edward repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

She tried not to frown, wishing he could be a bit more observant toward things like this; but he was a boy, and she tried not to expect too much of him. "A big house, clothes, anything she wants. And, well, I sorta got…jealous…of her."

"But why?" Al asked innocently. "You have so much she probably doesn't."

"Fancy clothes isn't one," she mumbled.

"You mean…? Oh, so that's why you were playing dre—" Edward caught her quick glare and immediately changed his words. "Um, putting on your mom's things."

Winry turned to Al, figuring he would be of more help than Ed since he was the sensitive one. "I couldn't help it. She just looked so nice, and I felt poor next to her, and I thought that…if I had pretty dresses…I might not look as plain."

While Alphonse was clearly a boy, he was able to talk to Winry about stuff like this, something she was immensely grateful of. But he took her by surprise at just how nice he actually was at the moment. "You, plain? Winry, you'd have to be blind not to think you're pretty."

She felt her eyes widen, and a soft blush crept over her cheeks. "Y-you really think so?"

Alphonse seemed to catch himself and realize what he was saying; he gave an embarrassed stutter and quickly looked away. "Y-yeah. Ask anyone," he said, trying to cover.

It was a known fact that Al had had a crush on her when they were little; he'd proposed to her once, but she had kindly declined. Of course, so had Ed, and she'd refused him as well. Winry had never thought of him being more than her brother or best friend, but she wasn't sure if Alphonse still carried this crush or not; even if he did, she couldn't find it within herself to mind right now. So, smile softer than any piece of silk, she leaned up and placed a kiss on the metal helmet, right where Al's little cheek would have been.

He looked at her, clearly shocked and unable to move, metal limbs stiff and held up slightly, and she could almost imagine how he would have looked, all rosy cheeks and wide, pale gold eyes.

"Thanks," she said, still smiling and trying not to giggle at how adorable he was.

"Ah, you're welcome," he replied, voice an octave higher than usual, and she couldn't hide her laughter any longer.

"Am I interrupting?" Edward asked sarcastically, pulling Winry and Al to look back at him. He was looking at her nonchalantly, and she was about to give a smart retort, but lost her train of thought as something swift flashed over his face. Honey eyes hardened, and his frown deepened for just a second, almost to where he looked like he was sulking, his body slightly tense in its casual position. He glanced at Alphonse, and a slight shadow filled his eyes; but then it vanished, and he was looking back at her.

He actually looked…annoyed, though Winry couldn't understand why. She felt her interest flare up, but she tried not to show it as she gave him a sardonic smile in return and heard Al laugh, still tinged with his earlier nervousness.

Before her very eyes, she saw Edward flash a slight scowl at his little brother, not with enough venom to truly wound but clearly showing he was displeased, and then it was gone, almost as if she'd imagined it.

Winry felt her eyes round a little as a thought occurred to her, one that was ludicrous and unrealistic and completely impossible and made her face feel warm.

Was Ed…jealous?

He'd been acting normally up until she had kissed Al's cheek, and then he seemed to be subtly glaring daggers at them, especially his brother. But that didn't make any sense, because if he was jealous, then that meant—

She didn't get any farther in her thought, because Edward took that moment to speak.

"Look, you're…um…nice," he said, and she felt a spark of annoyance once again at his lack of expressive wording, "and you shouldn't waste you time worrying over some dumb girl. She has city clothes and is pretty; so? You've actually got a personality. And…looks," he mumbled, glancing away, face somewhat red. "And you've got us. So don't let somebody like that get under your skin."

As she listened to him, Winry found herself more and more appreciative of his inelegant words, slowly feeling something like a smile trying to lift her lips and a warm glow tint her cheeks. When he was finished and looking at her expectantly, his own face still colored lightly, eyes smoldering, she could do nothing but smile brightly at him, saying nothing and hoping he'd be able to know how much what he said meant to her—what he meant to her.

He blinked slowly, expression slipping into something softer and kinder as he gave a smile in return—not a grin or a leer, but a real smile that he saved only for a few people, and Winry was one of the lucky few. He quickly lifted an eyebrow, letting her know he understood her gratitude.

"Now," he said a moment later as he stood up and stretched his automail arm, "I say we head down to the den and find something to do. You know, like, read maybe?"

Winry and Alphonse laughed at the bookworm, but she shook her head. "I'm gonna have to pass. Homework."

Edward did pout this time, something that Winry found, of all things, kind of endearing. "At least do it downstairs so you can talk to me. I get bored."

"You're going to be reading, and Al's going with you," she argued.

"It's more fun with you around though. Right?" he said, looking up to the armor for agreement, and Al nodded dutifully, still chuckling lightly, the laughter echoing in his helmet.

Winry grinned at Ed. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that, Edward Elric."

"And you never will again," he replied, returning the grin, and she was glad to see his mood was no longer sour, though it still confused her as to why it was in the fist place. "One time compliment."

She sighed, casting her eyes to the ceiling. "Fine, I'll be down there in a minute."

Edward flashed a triumphant smirk, Al lifted his hand and gave her a half wave, smiling an unseen smile, and then they exited the room, leaving Winry alone once more.

Winry stood up and walked back to the mirror, looking at her reflection, just now remembering she still had the red dress on. She held the smooth material in her hands, thoughts traveling back to how angry she had been with the brothers for spying on her. Now, she felt silly for having been so mad, but that was usually how it was between them: Edward would do something to enrage her, she would be livid for a few minutes, Alphonse would help calm her down enough to think, and all would be forgiven.

This time, things had been different though. Edward had been the one to make her break, to begin the recovery, with his soft eyes and warm hand on her shoulder and his hidden apology, the one he hadn't uttered, the one that was truer and more wholesome than anything he could ever say.

They were right, all of them: Granny, Edward, Alphonse. She didn't need material items to make her happy, not when she had the people to fill her heart. That didn't mean she would never feel the deadly sin envy again, but she hoped that maybe next time, she would remember this experience and what she had been told.

"A personality, huh?" she whispered, smiling gently.

A knock caught her attention, and she looked around to see Edward in the doorway, smiling apologetically for what had transpired earlier and trying to make up for it by informing her of his arrival this time. Winry laughed, letting him know he was off the hook. "Back already?"

"Yeah," he said, smile beginning to disappear as he walked in, and she found something off in the way he looked around the room almost nervously, eyes never resting on her.

"Did you forget something?"

"Um, no, not really," he mumbled.

She smiled slightly. "So what's up?"

Edward looked at her finally, frowning and soft eyed, two thing that were usually unseen of together. He gripped his automail arm behind his back with his left hand, swaying where he stood; he looked almost nervous.

"Well?" Winry encouraged.

She heard him take a deep breath, and then his eyes were fixedly on her, swirling like melted gold. "You look nice."

Winry tried not to gawk. "Huh?"

"In…the dress," he muttered, face going red all the way down to his neck, and he bit his bottom lip. "It's…pretty, the color and everything. You look…you look cute."

She blinked owlishly at him, blue eyes wide and amazed and feeling like someone had just injected hot, sweet syrup into her veins; she felt nervous and delighted, surprised and a little bit disoriented, completely unsure of what she should say back. But what took over most was the sheer enjoyment, and it flowed up her face until she was blushing like a rose and beginning to beam, still unable to think of how she should answer him.

Winry didn't have to, because Ed jerked around quickly so that his back was to her, a hand scratching uneasily at the back of his head. "Yeah, uh, that's all I needed. I'll see you downstairs," he said in a quick rush of almost garbled words. He moved to the door stiffly, body language terse.

Something finally clicked, and Winry reached out instinctively, even while he was out of reach. "Ed."

He froze, shoulders rigid, arms locked at his sides, and her turned around grudgingly, eyes veiled and mouth pulled into a pronounced frown; but Winry clearly saw that his face was still flushed. "What?"

She lifted her mouth in a small flash of a smile, then looked at him with honest eyes, her own face flooded with warmth. "Thank you. For everything."

Frown disappearing, he watched her with eyes that steadily began to thaw with something pleasant and contented, and Edward grinned at her softly, golden eyes sparkling gently as his cheeks colored a shade darker. He didn't say anything in response, but he gave her a quick wink, and then he was walking out the door, hands in his pockets. "Hurry up and get your stuff," he called.

Winry smiled and gave a soft laugh and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, still able to feel Ed's wink and feel its warmth, the knowledge that he thought she was cute unleashing a fluttery feeling in her chest, like a baby bird beating its wings.

It felt good.

¡Bonus Note!

*When Winry opens her dad's closet, she can smell his scent still on his clothes; I based Urey Rockbell's cologne off of some my own dad used to wear: Coty Musk. I can remember being little and my sister and me smelling his neck when he would come in from work, so I got that idea from personal experience.