pairing: ed/winry
rating: k+ for language
a/n: THREE. MONTHS. THREE MONTHS. i honestly have no excuse aside from school, school, and school which of course has the lovely side effects of time-consumption and stress and bleh bleh excuses all that matters now is that it's up! it's up finally! praise jesus.
a/n2: once again, this chapter is dedicated to and very, very mush inspired by the lovely laura whose writing (and wonderful presence really) just does things to me and i want to melt into a pile of goop.
prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | ffnet
enjoy!~
Winry hums; a smile reserved only for one former alchemist playing across her lips as she carefully - with hands fine-tuned for precision and care - decreases the folds of her most recent letter. Not surprisingly enough, it's becoming more rare to receive word from her bumbling dope of a... What even should she call him? Boyfriend? Lover? Fiance, of sorts; well obviously, they've (she's) even started wedding details. Surely he's all of those things to her (well, quite frankly he's so, so much more, but for simplicity's sake) but she forcing an exact label is so damn difficult, especially when she hasn't seen him in... what, six? Seven months now?
Edward's letters are detailed, to say the least, especially when they begin to arrive farther and farther apart. He rambles off excuse after excuse and delves her into the foreign exploration he so adores. He discusses the cuisine, his friends, his enemies and rivals (she really isn't surprised he managed to get under someone's skin), and even a bit of automail-related news, where applicable, of course. He doesn't filter out any of the alchemic progress, only summarizes it, and she's grateful (even if most of it does go over her gear-wired brain). He recognizes she doesn't particularly understand it, but he wants her to be a part (the smallest, safest part that keeps her astray from chimeras and those damn homunculi and all-knowledge-seeking beings) of one of the largest chunks of his life. She may not comprehend it all, but she certainly doesn't want him catering to her every need.
Oh god, her needs. The mere mentioning of such a thing, even in her head, is enough to make her flop over and groan in agony. Needs, she thinks bitterly. Dumb, trivial things she didn't even realize she had until he was gone. At least when she, when they were children she had school and textbooks and a few close friends to occupy the hole the Elrics left in her heart.
Of course she's made countless friends and contacts in Rush Valley - it's her effect on people, Edward claims. Her charm - and she's busy enough to elicit one or two all-nighters a week, but something is just different. It's different after being with him for two whole uninterrupted, blissful years where she saw him and touched him and was with him everyday. She became unawarely privileged, and the needs she'd had satisfied for so long finally decide to become antsy and unsatisfied and bite her right in the ass.
It's numb; missing him. Of course she misses him, but it isn't always conscious, for doing so would waste her time and she hasn't got any to spare. Her one consoling factor is that she knows, for a fact, that the feeling isn't one-sided. In fact, it's entirely mutual, at the very least. He doesn't always outright spell it out, but, god, she's known him so long - he's practically an open book.
Winry blinks up at the dim ceiling and pauses (she hadn't even realized she'd been rubbing the fold of the parchment between her thumb and index finger), hearing a small ringing in the space between her ears. It reverberates inside her skull and she blinks tartly. A groan escapes her lips and she mentally kicks herself for the apparent lack of sleep she's been getting and it occurs to her that she isn't even sure what time it is. Curious, she turns her head to her window and peaks her eyes through the slants of the blinds. The sky is navy but just at the brink of the horizon, a color she can only describe as 'Elric gold' merges with the night stars.
How fitting, she thinks tartly, and for a few seconds she's lost in subconscious of the world around her. It's then that she recognizes the ringing she hears is not in fact a result of sleep deprivation, but certainly the shrill bells of the telephone downstairs.
In an instant, she's snapped out of the quilt that was once her mother's and books it down the narrow stairwell that leads to Mr. Garfiel's shop a floor below. It's almost incredible how the motivation pours back into her at the prospect of work (as if she didn't already have enough mechanical puzzles on her plate) but in a moment's noticed, she's prepared to assist anyone who needs her.
Her fingers wrap around the receiver as she recites the opening monologue she's got memorized. "Hello, Atelier Garfiel-"
A shrill, surprisingly deep voice cuts her off, "Automail and Prosthetics, yatta yatta, yeah I know the drill."
She's momentarily stunned by the blatant rudeness of the person of the other line until it hits her like a wrench. For a second, she forgets to inhale.
"Ed?!" She exclaims, although it's only a formality. She would know that voice anywhere.
An admittedly deep and husky chuckle serves as her response and she actually gets a prickle of goosebumps from the sound. "Hey, Win," Ed replies coolly.
A feeling that can only be described as pure bliss washes over her, even if for a split second. Hearing him utter a meager number of words and syllables is enough to launch her over the moon and for a brief moment, absolutely nothing else matters.
A brief moment, however. Before it hits her (again) and she frowns at the receiver and clutches the transmitter wire between her fingers. "Edward, you better not be calling me in the middle of the night to tell me," she pauses, choking on anger rising in her throat, "that you broke your automail or so help me god-!"
The response is immediate and fear-induced. "What?! No, Win, god no, do you think I'm an idiot?" He rambles off his defense, panicked, hoping to save a little skin even though she couldn't even do anything if she wanted to; not with thousands of miles between them.
Winry cocks a smile to no one; one, because she's honestly proud he hasn't destroyed his leg in half a year (it must be a new record!) and two, because even after this time, she can tell nothing's changed.
"...I'm going to decline to comment on that one,"-a scoff from the other line brightens her smile-, "but you swear nothings wrong? All your limbs are in the same state you left Amestris with? Two arms, two legs, one metal?"
Ed scoffs again, "What? Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, Win, relax. Damn, you think I'd be able to just call my woman without her jumping down my throat about precious automail, nonetheless," the coy smile reaching across the line is evident, "but that wouldn't be the girl I fell in love with, huh?"
Winry rolls her eyes lightly at the comment, but her heart flutters effortlessly and her cheeks flush relentlessly. She mouths a silent 'thank you!' to the dark and the fact that Garfiel is fast asleep.
"Well, then, what's your excuse for calling this early in the morning? You know, I do actually like to sleep, contrary to your belief" she says in mock annoyance.
Ed mumbles an incoherent statement - she picks out the words 'work-crazy' and 'gearhead' - before rising up and speaking in a decipherable tone. "I need an excuse? Pft, I thought you'd be happy to hear from me; your breadwinning, genius, devilishly handsome fiance who just happened to wrap up his alchemic research three months in advance!"
She's about to retort something about Ed's head being far too large for such a shrimp, but all words are caught in her throat as she replays his words in her head. Once. Twice. Third times the charm.
Did she hear it correctly? Her sleep-hungry mind isn't playing tricks on her, is it?
"You're coming home?" Winry asks quietly and incredulously, as if any loud noise would serve to wake her up from what has to be a dream.
The chuckle Ed lets out this time is completely light-hearted and sincere. "Yup, I just need a week or so to wrap everything up here, and I'll be on a train to Rush Valley before you know it."
She lets out a breath of relief, and a weight she didn't quite recall is suddenly lifted off her shoulders. "How on earth did you manage to complete your research so ahead of schedule?"
"Eh, I dunno. I guess you could say I've had some really kickass motivation. I mean," he coughs awkwardly, "I've just missed you, Win."
Winry coils the wire around her finger and sighs, giving a small smile. "I've missed you, too." She immediately feels oddly embarrassed at the heavy silence and declarations and shifts the direction of the conversation. "So, a week, huh?"
"Yeah, maybe less than that but definitely not any longer," Ed assures her. Assures himself.
"Great! I'll, uh, wait for you then! At the train station, I mean," she stops herself and mentally sighs for stumbling over her words.
"Yeah, sounds good! I'll call you again before I leave, alright?" Ed pauses. "I'm really excited to see you, again, Win. Can't wait."
She grins into the receiver and does little to ignore her heart sputtering out of control.
"Me too, Ed."
They mumble their goodbyes in a few words (which may or may not contain the words 'I', 'love', and 'you') and Winry hangs up the receiver feeling significantly lighter. She completes her work quickly and even more so efficiently than normal. With a smile and a quick blush, she accredits this to the very same newfound determination Ed described.
Winry begins counting down the days.