a/n: so i would just like to preface this by saying that this chapter is slightly more on the t-rating side of things. nothing too bad, just a little risque.
a/n2: also i am so sorry this took so long to get up on ffnet. the doc manager was acting weird and i forgot about it for a while blah blah excuses but it's here now and i really liked it and i hope you guys will, too!
a/n3: also, this chapter doesn't contain an actual letter, and for that i apologize. it is, however, about double the words of past chapters, so you have that to look forward to!
It was fucking hot. Granted, not nearly as scorching as Creta was, but Rush Valley was so much more congested; what with people cramming together and sucking up the fresh air, it felt like suffocation and affixation. It was worse, in a way.
Ed grimaced at the image of this scenario if he'd still had his automail arm; engineers would be scrambling all over him just to get a looksee; their breath grimy and eyes hungry and greedy and this whole town was fucking nuts, really. Thank god his leg was easily concealable.
Besides, there was only one mechanic he would allow to get handsy with him; let her breath cling to his, but with a different kind of hunger burning in her eyes.
A quick shove in the sea of people brought him out of that recurring fantasy and he prayed the growing heat on his cheeks could be played off as heat stroke.
He gulped, shaking his golden head and ignored the sweat clinging to his brow and quickened his step before he reached the familiar storefront reading 'Atelier Garfiel'.
He didn't even knock; nor did it cross his one-track mind. He just wanted to see her, to hold her, to touch her, to kiss h-
He paused, dropping his suitcase on the musty floor and letting the loud thump jolt him. Don't get ahead of yourself, jeez, he reminded himself sternly. First thing's first; he had to find the girl before any more of his illusions could even remotely become a reality.
Carefully, he made his way through the shop, which was unusually abandoned; not even that creepy Garfiel and his lacy dresses were around. His nerves tensed up as he crept up the creaky stairs, wary of a wrench to suddenly connect with his skull.
He shuddered at the thought; he really should've just called her before just showing up like this. But it was supposed to be a surprise, dammit, one that would light up her whole face and warm her heart and bring her crashing into his arms!
But if she mistook him for an intruder, or worse, assumed he'd busted his leg...
He gulped, scolding himself for not thinking if out more thoroughly (but really, when did he ever think something through?) as he cautiously hollered her name into the seemingly empty building.
"Yo, Winry!" He kicked his foot against the already ajar door that lead to her room; jumping away from it as it swung open as if a skeleton were to come out and grasp him. He sneered at his cowardice but his nerves were already on the fritz to being with.
Once he concluded that there were, in fact, no paranormal creatures lurking in her bedroom, he meekly stuck his head inside.
It was humble; tidy and organized, save for the various bolts and cables that lingered around, but lacked any source of human life. He frowned; no dice.
Turning on his heel, he locked his sights on the next door to his right. He wasn't positive what room lie behind it, but he wasn't about to stand there having a stare off with the damn thing to see which one would budge.
He grumbled; aggravated with the lack of lemon-blonde hair whipping around his face and the whiff of a vanilla-polishing oil concoction and soft but calloused in all the right places hands wrapping around him.
Six months was a long time, but, honestly, he'd settle for a wrench right now if just meant seeing the damn girl!
And boy, would he be seeing her.
His hands closed around the brass knob, failing to notice the clearly tacked 'Do Not Disturb!' sign hanging off the handle. With a push, the door opened before him, revealing the bathroom he now remembered was here.
The memory was hazy, and not too significant, anyway; just a simple toilet, sink, and a porcelain bathtub. Nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing to fret about.
But what Ed did fret about, what he didn't recall about the typical washroom was the blonde mechanic he'd been searching for lounging hazily in the tub. Taking a bath.
A bubble bath.
Naked.
Winry's sapphire blue eyes snapped up to meet his. A crimson blush spreads all along her body and she cowered into the tub, trying to hide as much her decency as possible. "Ed?!" She mustered, bewildered. Mortification lined her features and though her face was frozen in shock, anger darkened her eyes. That tone was all too familiar to him, and he knew he should get the hell out of dodge but he could not bring himself to tear his eyes away. He couldn't seem to form any thought remotely coherent. His body trembles and his breath quickens and his heart throbs all over as he takes her in.
The bubbles outlined her form; clinging to her glimmering skin and causing his breath the catch in his throat. The frothy white concealed most of her, but her knees peeked out just enough to cause him to inch forward. The foam danced around her tantalizingly and he was suddenly aware of a floral aroma clouding his thoughts. The fizz reached all around, poking at her creamy white skin and stopping just above the peak of her breasts...
"Edward!" A thick, raspy voice shook the walls of the closet sized room and knuckles rap against the door, echoing loudly.
Ed snapped up at his desk, waking up quite unpleasantly; muscles quickly screaming in protest and a crook in his neck and he's vaguely aware that he is not, in fact, in Rush Valley, but in Creta. Still. Without Winry or a bubble bath.
He groaned, slamming his achy body against the stiff chair and rubbing his hands down the sides of his face. Damn it, Elric, snap out of it!
He exhaled deeply, heaving his chest in a large sigh. This was, what, the third time he'd dreamt about her in a week? And god knows how many times it'd happened overall!
He was in deep. As if he wasn't already reminded her whenever he glanced at his left leg, but in his dreams, now, too? Did he really miss her that much?
"Edward!" Came the gruff voice again, but time it entered his room as a petite middle-aged woman stormed in, a stern look on her face as she shook a wooden spoon dangerously close to his head.
"I have called you for dinner," she paused, counted her fingers and then wagging the result in front of his eyes. "Seven times, now!"
He sighed again, about to pour out one of his world-famous (literally) excuses when she took a step back and scoped out his room.
"Ay ay ay, Edward, what a pig you are! Look at how filthy this room is!" Her prickly eyes examined the room with extreme scrutiny. She wasn't completely exaggerating though; the room was covered in layers of shirts, pants, underwear, not to mention countless texts and papers littering the floor.
He grunted, mood considerably damped to begin with. "Well it isn't like I have much space to put everything," he muttered under his breath; aggravating evident in his tone.
Mrs. Anita Sprague, Lou's Aerugonean wife, was a motherly type, to say the least. She was nosy, strict, but kind-hearted and caring when it came down to it, and she cared for the whole town with a fierce passion. She was stern but all-knowing, and was constantly badgering Ed to complete his 'alchemy-nonsense' research and get out of her hair.
But he smirked; he knew better, and the woman had already taken quite a fond liking to the young man. She'd raised her three sons with a thick tongue and now that her babies were well grown and gone, she'd opened their home to Ed with open arms, despite their occasional clashing.
Nothing got past the woman, honestly, and her eyes flicked to his in response to his rude comment but she ignored it.
"Ay, haven't you even heard of cleaning, Edward! I swear, all you - ah!" Her x-ray vision locked onto something she must of left out of the 'alchemy-nonsense' category. She reached over his nightstand and grasped a small picture frame.
Immediately his heart jumped to his throat as she pondered it with her probing gaze. She flew her eyes back to his as a smug look crept upon her face. "Is this the Winry I've heard so much about?" She turned the frame over in her hands, looking for more clues as the glimmer of the glass caught his eye; revealing a trace of the image he had memorized.
Al had taken it; he'd gotten Winry a new camera for her birthday, but he loved it almost as much as she did. She didn't mind at all that he'd sneak it out her room and take snapshots of random occurrences; she was really pleased, as she loved to capture the moment, and to see Al so happy. This particular one he'd taken while they were on the front porch on a particularly warm day; lazing around in the sun and praying for the wind to pick up a tad while they drank her homemade lemonade.
The light bounced off her blonde hair and arched around her like the sun. Her eyes were alight and wide and brilliantly blue and her smile was contagious as ever. Everytime he looked at the photo, he couldn't help but crack even a small grin. She looked... pretty, beautiful, really but most of all? Happy; as radiant as the sun, without a care in the world. And that's what meant the most.
Ed rubbed his hands sheepishly across the back of his neck, but he couldn't manage to tone down his wide grin. "Yep, that's her," he said simply, but his tone said it all.
Mrs. Sprague nodded, and any anger about the untidy room seemed to vanish completely from her mind. She smiled softly down at the photo as she hummed, "She's very beautiful, Edward."
"Yeah, she really is. You have no idea," he admitted, a hint of admiration adorning his face.
The older woman cracked a knowing smile. "Really, now? What's she like?"
He scoffed, rolling his eyes at her prying, maternal nature. "Oh, please, I've already told you what she's like."
It was her turn to scoff, this time, and she used her hands in circling gestures to encourage him on. "Yes, sure, but what is she like, Edward?"
He paused; pressing his lips together and furrowing his brow and racking his brain for the right words to fit Winry Rockbell before he came up blank. "... what do you mean?" He asked lamely.
"Ay ay ay!" She exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing deeply. She looked him dead in the eyes, resting her palms firmly on his shoulders.
"Do you love her?" She asked, simply.
"Yeah, of course!" He responded quickly, before he was taken back by the enormity of his words. That was the closest he'd ever come to saying it out loud, let alone for anyone else to hear. He'd never even managed to say it Al, and, sure it'd written it to Winry, but he hadn't, with his own voice, declared it. Even still, it felt completely solid and right and whole, with every fiber in his body.
Mrs. Sprague narrowed her eyes once more, as if she could see right through him. He wriggled uncomfortably under her gaze before she removed her hands and set them on her hips; a proud grin plastered on her face.
"Good. I can tell, you know, these eyes know all," she bragged, pointing to her wide open iris and letting out a good hearty chuckle that Ed returned wholeheartedly.
"Now come downstairs and eat before your food gets cold! I whipped up some of the Sprague Family Delicacies!" She moved her hand to her stomach, smiling wickedly. "Mmmm, Edward, you will love them. So rich and tasty... Oh! You should send some of them to your Winry; something to remember us by when you leave! You said she was good at cooking, yes? I'm sure she is; strong capable hands who can build limbs out of mighty steel, yes! She is good for you, Edward, just like my food, yes!"
Ed followed her down the stairs, laughing as Mrs. Sprague continued on her famous rambles; going on and on about her cooking as she slid a thick salmon fillet onto his plate, drenched in a fragrant rich orange sauce. He would give the old lady that much; she could cook up a mean dinner and his stomach was grumbling in anticipation.
After he'd stuffed his face, and his pants felt tighter around the band, he sighed happily; leaning back in his chair until Mrs. Sprague scolded him and Lou laughed in response. Right as he was about to rise to clean his plate (not it needed much cleaning), Mrs. Sprague wiggled a letter in front of his face; a knowledgeable smirk planted on her lips.
"From your Winry," she said, placing it gently in his lap and grabbing his plate for him, throwing him a knowing wink as she entered the kitchen.
Ed stared at it eagerly but he knew better; the old woman had very strict table restrictions. His foot began to jiggle impatiently and he kept glancing at the clock every three seconds before she reentered the room and frowned.
"What are you waiting here for?"
Ed's eyes widened. "Oh, well, uh, you know..."
"You read the letter in your room, boy! It's rude to read in front of the table!"
"Oh, right, sure!" Ed said, smiling as he rose from his chair. Her thick voice cut him off once more.
"Forgetting something?"
"Oh yeah, uh... May I be excused?" He grumbled quietly; just itching for a way out.
"What was that?" She grinned at him; she was relishing every minute of it.
He sighed, annoyed. "May I be excused?"
She let out a loose laugh and waved her hand in the direction of the staircase. "You may, Edward."
He nodded, muttering a reluctant 'thank you' under his breath but he couldn't help but keep the grin off his face as he raced for his room.
Mrs. Sprague just chucked to herself, turning to her husband with a know-it-all look on her face. "She's good for him, that girl. Very good for him."
Mrs. Sprague was known for being right for a reason, after all.