Draped in Wires
by. Poisoned Scarlet
Theme 009: Young Lord
His definite return was the first of many opportunities to learn about each other.
Winry was mistaken when she believed she knew everything there was to know about Edward Elric: she had only scratched the surface of the elusive former-alchemist. A few things that were obvious to strangers was the way Ed acted: like he owned the place and he needed to be bowed to and respected, even if he called you a shit-faced lunatic with the IQ of a bird.
It was his 'Holier Than Thou' complex that everyone knew about but made no effort to beat it down.
She always set him right with one flash of her tool-of-choice.
Another thing would be his intelligence. It radiated off of him like snow during a blizzard and it was terribly difficult not to stand up and punch his lights out when he began his 'I'm-right-you're-wrong-and-this-is-why' speech which always ended with a smug smirk of satisfaction. Even though, by then, you were probably aware, given his strong build, he'd dodge the sock and retaliate with a fancy kick of his own that'd leave you aching and sore for a few days.
But those were only the many facades Edward Elric often preferred to push forward.
There were other facets to him she'd never even believed he had.
Like how he took care of the minor things without attracting any attention, for once – placing her tools back in the toolbox, pouring her a cup of water when she was parched and tired, opening the door for her when needed, or making her laugh whenever she looked gloomy or annoyed.
Or how he was a package of insecurity and anxiety when things didn't go as planned or that he was brow-raising vain about his thick locks of golden hair and admittedly good facial structure – proven when she caught him striking poses in the mirror one morning.
She pretended she never saw that although she spent the entire morning smirking like a thief as he ate his breakfast, weirded out by her smug mood but making nothing of it.
She also never knew Edward to have a single romantic bone in his not-so-scrawny, not-so-short-anymore, body.
She was proven wrong when she was carrying a box of heavy scrap metal from the workshop to the furnace and she tripped over the threshold of the front door, nearly barging down the porch steps had it not been for his quick reflexes, which caught the back of her tube top and sling shot her into his chest, a hand lashing out to grab the unsteady box filled to the brim with iron.
Her face had flushed red at the contact but he didn't seem to notice, instead smiling out "Watch your step – I can't be there to save your butt every time you know" and adding, pleasantly "But I'll try to for as long as I can."
He probably meant those words seriously and didn't think much of them but the words made her heart melt. He might be awful with words but when it came down to it he was actually a master at expressing what he wanted people to know – be it by words or actions, which she preferred the most even though the first of his many 'actions' had taken her by surprise in the most delightful ways possible.
A/N: Hurray for foreshadowing! :D
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Scarlett.