I'd like to start off with a quote I read the other day and loved:

"You have to walk carefully in the beginning of love; the running across fields into your lover's arms can only come later, when you're sure they won't laugh if you trip." ~Jonathan Carroll

Anyways, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update… It's the usual: real life, university, nephew, boyfriend, lack of time-wise coordination.

Well, on with this. Not much of a title, but…

CHAPTER EIGHT, "Hints of Desire"


The music kept playing, and the rhythm kept shaking their bodies with as much ferocity as an earthquake as the drinks just kept coming.

One after the other, Andre would suddenly pop right in the middle of the crowd with a new set of drinks, in funny shaped glasses and brigth colors.

Edward was definitely not feeling his usual self. He was excited, full of the adrenaline of experiencing something new and pleasant as dancing to a (closely) techno beat. His mind, however, was slowly losing ground to his body's instincts.

He'd stay like that all night long if he could, just holding her. He liked dancing like that, but he had an impression he wasn't very good at it – so standing still would be better for him than jumping around and about in complicated patterns of moves. But Winry just seemed like a toy that had been completely wound up, and wouldn't stop till the battery went dead. Or the cord ran off. Or something like that.

Whenever he could he'd run his hands up and down her back, slowly, until he got where he wanted and she'd stop him. It was actually a bit infuriating. She'd practically shoved herself into his hands back at the house, and now she was playing difficult.

Women…

Again, following her lead, he moved somewhat gingerly to the sound that reached his ears. He tried wrapping his arms around her again – but she pulled away.

"I need to go to the bathroom! Stay here!" she told him, as if giving orders to a four-year-old, and left his sight.

Ed could not help letting out a small growl of annoyance.

Now that he had some moments to think, he didn't really enjoy how comfortable she felt inside the small dancefloor, as if she were used to this.

And f it weren't bad enough that he was horny and dizzy from all the flashy lights and the alcohol mix, he also had time to realize his brother was shirtless.

"Shit."

He honestly did try to scold Alphonse. But neither would Al listen, nor could Ed articulate himself very well anymore. Plus, Russell wasn't making it any easier for him: he kept scowling at him.

"You and my little brother are no fun at all!"

Man, that was such a girly line. Ed really did think about a smart retort, but he couldn't, so he just shrugged and stood there. There were too many women for him to dare make a move. He wasn't exactly the social type of person; but he just felt like he needed to pay a closer look to what his brother was doing.

Not that he would be much of a help anyways: his sense of balance was not the greatest at that moment. The laws of physics were failing him, and the verticality of that crowded bar oscillated nonstop, no longer seeming perpendicular.

A few minutes passed, drowsily, with him swooning back and forth absent mindedly at the sound of the music.

He stared at his own hands. They were feeling oddly tingly, so he moved his fingers around for a little bit to check if they were still attached. Now he wasn't sure whether it was his head that was numb, or his fingers, or both!

"Did I miss anything?"

Finally! Winry arrived. So he turned all his attention towards her again, leaving Al and Russell and their lady friends behind.

"I'm not a freaking babysitter anyways. He can do whatever he wants," he thought bitterly.

Something new caught his short attention span.

"Where d'ya get that?" he demanded, noticing two tiny glasses with a small amount of blue liquid inside. His tongue felt both dry and numb at the sight of the drinks.

"That crazy Andre said these were for them," – she nodded at Al and Russell, who were now cloistered around the music band – "but I say we do our own toast. What say ye?"

"… Maybe I could toast alone? I could drink both glasses." he ventured, smiling in a hopefully cute manner.

"Ehh! Nice try! I toast to…" she had been about to say "our un-proclaimed love", but that sounded too cheesy. She stared at Alphonse and Russell for a moment, and grinned an evil grin.

Ed noticed she was about to do something terrible, but couldn't actually stop her. His reflexes were too slow.

"I toast to a karaoke party!!" she yelled out from the very top of her lungs, when she noticed the band was about to stop playing – Alphonse, at that very exact moment, grabbed one of the drumsticks from the drummer's hand and was trying to hit a plate. He managed just in time, right after Winry yelled.

Chaos settled inside the small bar, as the women pushed and tugged at the few existing men in the bar, ushering them "on stage". Of all the men there, the two alchemists were positively the most handsome. So a bunch of guys now gathered round the band, as if herded by the women in an obedient fashion.

The general sound of laughter was soon having its effect on Ed, as if it were contagious, but in a good way – he felt like he had no troubles. Just another kid, having himself a good time! He should definitely do this more often.

His attention span increased a little, to what was possible to his drowsy brain at that point.

One of the women yelled, "Let the cute boys go first!" It seemed like she was trying to get some order into the mess that had become the other women – they acted no more like shepherds, but like a pack of wolves, circling at their preys.

"But only shirtless entries are allowed for men!" came Andre's voice from behind the counter. "The winner gets to take this amazing prize home!" and he pointed at a bottle with a black liquid in it. It read "VODKA" in capital letters at the front.

Funny, since he'd said he didn't serve vodka. This must be his special stash, then.

"Hmmmmmm," said a little voice at the back of Ed's head as he noticed the pleasant-looking liquid inside the bottle. Black was, after all, one of his favorite colors. "This might actually be good idea…"

He looked around for Winry but, again, she was nowhere to be found.

"Damn. How does she manage to disappear like that? She's like a ninja… or something."

(No, Ed, she's not. You're just a bit too drunk to notice when she walks around.)

So he clumsily slid through the cluster of women that surrounded the band, trying to get closer to his brother so he could talk to him; but it was too late, as some girls had already ordered for him to sing some crappy song of their preference and he happily obliged. Lucky for them, they were drunk enough not to notice how horrible Al was at singing.

Or at getting the lyrics right, for that matter.

Of course, Ed couldn't help but snigger. His brother really did have a crappy singing voice... Well, it was actually a family trait.

Quite suddenly, he sensed movement very close to the left side of his body; he turned to look at one of the women standing right next to him. She had brown hair and eyes – and a big cleavage – and wore a perky smile.

"Hello there handsome," the woman whispered right next to his right ear, throwing her hand over his shoulder.

"Er," he replied.

"You're not going to join your friends?" she asked, in a way that Ed interpreted as somewhat sexually appeasing. Her cleavage was showing off in a way a guy just can't ignore.

"Er," he replied.

"Oh, come on… It's not that hard to take your shirt off, is it?"

"Er," he replied. He really couldn't think of another thing to say. His mind was all fuzzy, and it became even fuzzier as she tugged his shirt upward a little as a sign of encouragement...

But she stopped and removed her hand abruptly, taking a cautious step backwards. Another female had come into scene, and she was rightfully claiming her territory back.

"Excuse me," Winry scoffed. She gave the older woman a cold stare. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. "Don't you think you're a bit too old for him?"

"Well! Don't you think you're a bit too young to be here drinking like that?" she replied, pointing an accusing finger at the two drinks Winry held in her hands.

"No, actually I don't!" she replied, shoving the drinks into Ed's unexpecting hands. He spilled the contents of the glasses a little.

"Well then, how old are you?" she demanded aggressively.

"Screw you," was Winry's reply, "and please leave my boyfriend alone. I won't say it again."

Of course, Ed was too distracted to notice neither Winry's foul mouth, nor how the two girls were sticking dangerously close to each other. To a normal person, the fact that they were both grinding their teeth and balling up their fists would be a clear warning sign.

Sadly, Edward had his attentions turned towards the two glasses filled with an orange-colored liquid.

"Oh, your boyfriend, huh? I'm sorry, but he doesn't really seem very interested in you, brat."

"That's because he's drunk, you bimbo!"

"Who's the bimbo, you crappy little blonde bitch?!"

Oh. That was it.

"Cat fight!" one of the guys yelled, while pointing at the two bickering women. Everyone turned to look – even Edward, who had finished the second glass of vodka with orange juice. Took him a few moments to register what was going on.

Of course, it took only one of Winry's right punches for the other woman to be knocked out cold immediately.

"Who's the bitch now?" she growled - very much like in a cool action movie. "That'll teach her not to mess with my guy."

"... What am I, her property?" Ed thought to himself.

Alphonse was on the stage, cheering her up. "You go, girl! Teach her some respect!" he blurted out.

"No!", Andre begged only too late, "No fighting please! Please!!"

It was a mess. All of a sudden, women everywhere were pushing each other, shoving, and pulling at each other's hairs, kicking and throwing glasses.

Edward wasn't drunk enough to not be shocked at this. He thought bar fights were men's stuff?

Winry grabbed his forearm to drag him out of there. "Wake up, damnit! You're acting like a zombie!"

Well, that's not entirely true. Ed was moving around a lot, although mostly to drink or grope Winry's hips.

At his reaction – a dopey grin – she sighed and gave up, starting to look for Al instead. She found him quickly enough.

"Help meeeee!" he sobbed. Some girls had grabbed his arms and were not letting go; one of the girls, who appeared younger than the rest, was actually holding on to his shirt, standing there apparently amused at the whole thing.

Winry stomped over, genuinely pissed.

"Can't you just leave, Alphonse?"

"No! They're fighting over me like dogs over a bone and I can't do anything because they're girls!" he sounded genuinely concerned. The women looked genuinely persistent.

And just then, a shadow blocked the flashy lights in a funny angle. It was the security guard; he looked genuinely frightening. Not even his white and purple hat helped lighten the aggressive features of his face. When he spoke, it sounded like a thunder had just hit the person standing next to you. He made the air sizzle with testosterone.

"Time to stop, ladies." He boomed. Everyone noticed how his large smoking seemed unable to accommodate his overgrown muscles. Everyone shivered and stopped A.S.A.P.

"Have a good night, ladies," he boomed again.

The moods seemed to lighten, so Winry took the chance to take the drunken brothers and leave. Of course, Alphonse had to go and thank the overgrown man.

"…I thought I was going to be raped! Thankies!"

She was having such a good time only a few moments before! If it wasn't for that idiot Edward, she wouldn't have gotten into that mess. Couldn't he just have told that woman to buzz off?

Stressed out as she was, she went over to the bar and grabbed the big black bottle and took one large gulp. The flavor was incredibly nice, despite the ghastly black color of the liquid.

"Winry…" she heard Ed's voice mumbling behind her, but she didn't want to look at him. She was afraid that she might punch him as well. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course.

"I don't wanna talk to you. I thought you were a different kind of person, y'know."

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, you just… You're no fun. Your brother, he's fun to go out with."

"But… But that's it? Oh, come on! I thought I was being pretty fun tonight!"

"No. No fun at all," she spat back bitterly.

He gave up. She wasn't even bothering to face him, she just lent over the counter with that bottle in her hand. Edward was taking too long to realize the real reason for her annoyance... It's not that he wasn't fun to be with. He was, especially because he hadn't quite been able to keep his hands to himself around her.

To tell the truth, she didn't remember much about him or even herself, but she felt inexplicably attracted to him. Aside from all the sexual impulses he aroused on her in those few hours since they'd "met" at the hospital, he was clearly someone she'd known and cared for differently, before… Before she forgot who she was.

She was actually pissed because of the way he didn't put up any resistance to the woman that was hitting on him. Winry felt a huge pang of jealousy right through her chest, and was still digesting it.

So instead of breathing any other word, Ed swooped the bottle from her hand and ran for it, pushing through the crowd of people leaving the bar.

"Hey…!" she tried calling, but she could no longer see him. "Why that little…"

Grabbing her coat hastily, she managed to push herself outside, stepping on a few people on her way out, just out of sheer annoyance.

He was waiting for her outside, bottle in his hand, black coat wide open, shirt half unbuttoned. It was cold, but none of them seemed to feel the wind biting through their clothes and onto their skins. The cold actually helped her focus, and keep her attentions centered in her goal.

"Give it back," she roared.

"You're making such a fuss over a bottle of alcohol?" he asked, waving said bottle in front of her face.

She insisted, stretching her hand in his direction. He denied her, pulling the bottle further away. All of a sudden, it turned into a struggle between a couple of drunk teenagers over a bottle of alcohol.

Well, it already was a struggle between a couple of drunk teenagers over a bottle of alcohol; but now it became pretty much physical. His strong arms pulled her away fiercely – even though he wasn't as firm as he'd be were he sober, he still managed to keep her off bay as she flailed and tried to push him around.

"Stop pushing me!" she squeaked.

"You're the one pushing! You ought to stop."

"Give me that bottle back!" She had a sudden urge to go find a wrench to beat him over his head with. Hm. An idea: she'd hit him with the empty bottle.

"I don't feel like it…"

Angry as she was, she threw her weight once more against him, hoping that he'd drop the bottle under the force of impact. But upon meeting no resistance, she fell straight onto his chest. Instead of pushing her off, he left the bottle resting on the cold, wet wall they were now leaning against – and he wrapped his arms around her frame, pulling her even closer to him.

"Let go!" she demanded, now pushing with all the strength she had in her, to release herself from that grip. But he was stronger than he looked like, and she barely managed to move him a few centimeters.

"Please let go," she asked softly, after a few more fruitless attempts of freeing herself. But she wasn't actually trying anymore. She didn't want to.

He was so close, and so warm. His warmth sparked again in her that feeling, now familiar, of pressure between her thighs, of longing and sheer lust. Both were inebriated not only by the drinks they'd had but also by the proximity between them... He became aware of that proximity very suddenly.

She expected him to retreat and pretend nothing was going on. To back off and just leave her standing there, hot and frustrated. She knew it, somewhere inside her mind, that he'd act that way – she was used to it, even though she couldn't pinpoint why. He always acted all chaste and embarrassed, afraid to go anywhere beyond a light kiss or holding hands.

And all that sexual tension was bottled up right there. In them both. Hers exploded, after her little incident - when she woke up, wanting to go wild on him. And she'd almost ripped a reaction from him today! But… he always retracts. He won't press forward. If only he did, she'd just give herself away right there, on the spot.

Some memories rushed through the back of her mind in dazzling speed, startling her. All those times they'd been a bit closer, but never farther than they were "supposed" to. Why? Why not let it all out? Why not go wild and give in to their needs, like their bodies kept screaming at them to do?

Up until today she didn't even know she could cause him to become aroused. He'd never shown such a strong emotion to her.

Of course, that is, she'd know it by now, of full conscience, if her memory wasn't all jammy.

"Please…" she began pleading again, after seconds that dragged on forever. It was torture. She loved being so close to him, but hated both the fact that she was mad at him, and that he was just standing there, unmoving. He wasn't doing anything to help her put out that terrible fire... she was sure that if a snowflake fell on her legs or stomach right now, it would instantly melt.

What was it with this boy, this young man, that made her blood boil up like that?

"I'm sorry. I was just…" he began. But then he changed his mind. He muted his voice and opened his lips, gently leaning over to taste hers.

The sudden reaction caught her off guard. She didn't move.

He pulled his head back, squinting his eyes at her expression of mild shock.

"You just kissed me," she said flatly. "I wasn't really expecting that..."

"Yeah, and I'm not regretting it. Surprise," he replied with a smile, leaning once again towards her lips and taking them on his own. This time, she happily kissed back. She wasn't even thinking about it anymore, all her damn buzzing thoughts went away and were replaced with a sensation of bliss.

And then - an image of his naked chest. If only she could tear those annoying clothes off! She'd like to feel his skin, warm and soft under her palms. She wondered if his fever was as high as hers, if he was feeling the same heat she was feeling... Because if he was as hot as her, why didn't the stone ground melt? She wanted to make sure - and he had just the perfect "thermometer" for that. She wanted to check it with her hand...

A sudden, colder gust of wind caused them to wince and part the kiss. He was quick to pull her back against his entire body; it was as if he'd been reading her mind, because at that moment she was really able to feel his "temperature". She gasped; indeed, by all heavens, how come the ground wasn't melting? She could melt right there, right now. It was like bursting into flames, but the pain downed to an aching at waist-level.

He breathed heavily against her neck - now, both fire and electricity consumed her, for her skin was covered in goosebumps, caused by the close contact of his lips on her bare neck.

He too gasped, taking in some air to help cool down his body He felt his cheeks burning hot against the cold wind; he was thankful to the weather because it helped him straighten his mind up. He wanted to tell her something.

"Winry… You've been driving me crazy all day. I can't take this anymore. I need you. I've always wanted –" He hesitated. Even drunk, there were just certain things he couldn't bring himself to say. He was just your typical, distant guy. He didn't feel comfortable to drop his brick wall and stand there vulnerable; besides, he wasn't really a man for words. He didn't know how to say it. But he was sure of what he wanted to do with her.

She'd felt those hints of desire today, always lying there underneath his embarassment and distance. But he didn't want to take an inicative; until now. Now, he was giving off more than just hints. She felt it, she felt that he really did want to materialize that lust and those impulses into a single act.

So she pulled free of his grasp and locked her eyes on his. Blue over gold. Spinning inside their own bodies and souls, all rational thought taking a well-deserved vacation. Both minds setting on one goal – one which didn't require words, only actions.

Actions.

They needed to get home straight away. So he took her hand - a firm, determined grasp - as they darted off without even noticing the other three boys were already waiting for them nearby.

"H-hey, looook," the shirtless, coat-covered Alphonse pointed at the forgotten bottle standing, lonely, on the wall, and he quickly darted off to grab the precious treasure and take it back home.

"Well, I can say this was a good night, but it's getting cold. It's starting to snow! Al, can we crash at your –" Fletcher began. But his brother and Alphonse were already wobbling their way behind the two desperate lovebirds.

He told himself he'd never get himself drunk. Some young girl had tried to remove his belt at some point in the middle of the karaoke contest heat, so he was positively frightened of women too…

There, done! I'm not sure whether it's short or not. I was actually going to skip this one - I had meant for chapter nine to be chapter eight, but I thought they deserved something else in between. So I wrote this today.

However, I am a bit irritated 'cause I have no idea where I've been keeping chapter nine. I was really, really happy with that chapter. Now I can't find it anywhere in my pen drives or hard disk... T.T

Anyways, tell me what you think. Mainly, how I'm getting the characters. I'm not sure if I'm getting my message through, let alone if I'm managing to capture their reactions in this situation in particular.