A/N: I definitely complained about warm December weather on the last note, knowing full well that it is, indeed, January. Ladies and gentlemen:I present my Friday brain. Or lack thereof.
As promised, the preceding scene. Still Brotherhood.
35. Ordinary
"Al, where the hell are you going? You're my shield!"
"You're on your own, brother! See you, Winry!"
"Where's he going so f- Edward Elric what the HELL did you do to that arm?"
Ed dove for cover behind Winry's work bench, but she threw the wrench anyway. It bounced off the table and landed on his flesh foot. ("OW!" "Serves you right, jackass!")
Winry paused a moment for a thought. Ed might still run from her wrench, but violence didn't seem to get through his thick skull; if the state of his arm was any indication, violence was practically an incentive. If she was going to truly give him hell for breaking himself, she would need a totally different approach, and a prayer that he'd respond to at least one situation like an ordinary sixteen year old.
Checking first to make sure Ed was preoccupied with cowering, Winry adjusted her tube-top to push a little more cleavage. She then turned to Ed. "Oh get up, you chicken," she ordered. She even set her wrench on the table as a peace offering. Ed's eyes stayed narrow, but he stood up warily.
"How do I know you're not hiding another one?" he asked. Winry followed his gaze to her chest.
Perfect. "If you're so worried, check for yourself," she taunted. She hung her arms out to the sides and beckoned for him to check her jumpsuit- in the process pulling it slightly more open. Ed's jaw sank a little bit, but he still came forward. Apparently, the idea of patting her down like a criminal was still too intimidating, so he took one of the loose sides of the garment in his hand and lifted, checking for the added weight.
"Guess you're clean," he muttered. Winry smiled; her plan didn't call for a wrench. She took a step forward; Ed took a step back and bumped into the bench. Winry reached across him to push some things off the table as she forced him onto it. He grabbed her waist to keep from toppling, but fell onto the table anyway, dragging her with him.
"Edward, you are in so much trouble."
Winry leaned over him and tried her best to imitate that sexy glare she'd seen other women around town use to intimidate their men into buying jewelry. Ed gulped loudly- must be working.
"What the hell got into you?"
She leaned in closer and ran her tongue across her lip- Ed actually shivered; she was close enough to feel it. "Your arm is in pieces, Edward," she said, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice. She hovered centimeters above his lips, and watched his eyes try to stay on her face, but then he peeked down her top.
Winry pushed off the workbench and turned toward the door. "Well come on then, shrimp, help me find the design for your last arm," she ordered. Ed made a sound of protest, but still followed her up to her room. Five minutes later is when Al found Ed spread eagle and frustrated in ways he hadn't known himself capable (since when was Winry such a damn tease?), but ordinary ways nonetheless.