FMA: The First Five
Title: The First Five
Rating: K
Fandom/Claim: Ed/Winry, Fullmetal Alchemist
Summary: Four first dates (and one morning after) that Ed and Winry never experience. Five unconnected drabbles, written for
5_nevers.
Warnings: Besides the blatant het shipping of Ed and Winry? All are manga-verse meant to be set post-series (and assuming a relatively happy ending might occur).
I. I took a poll and you were graded / Boys were highly overrated
He was starting to regret the carnival idea.
It had seemed safe enough - there was food, and games, and rides, so she could easily choose what she wanted to do and he wouldn’t have to play that awful guessing game of which most women seemed so fond. All he had to do was pay. Not to mention, Al had found his own date, and once Ed had finally wrapped his mind around the idea of his baby brother actually going out with girls he’d been relieved. If things appeared to be going particularly badly he could always track Al down and turn it into a double date. He’d covered all the bases.
He hadn’t counted on running into Mustang.
The bastard had caught him off guard too - they’d seen Hawkeye first, and of course wherever she was, Roy was in the immediate vicinity. Winry and Riza were locked in conversation, concerned with nobody but themselves, and when Roy had approached he’d looked at Ed for an explanation. Ed’s response had been to roll his eyes and growl low in his throat.
“What’s the matter, Fullmetal?” Roy queried, sidling up beside him. “Vendor refuse to sell you a beer?”
“Shut up.” Ed crossed his arms and glared at Winry, hoping she’d get the message to finish up so they could go on their way.
“You’re wearing an awfully long face for someone who’s here with such a pretty girl…” Roy frowned as he glanced at Winry and Riza before looking back at Ed. “Unless she came with Al and you’re the third wheel?”
That was when Ed started yelling. Roy merely smirked, but when Ed questioned exactly who he had come with - except not nearly as politely and with several mentions of Roy’s boyfriend - Roy started yelling back.
They finally stopped when they were right up in each other’s faces, Ed’s fists curled around Roy’s collar and Roy scrambling for his pockets for his gloves. It wasn’t because anybody had stopped them - in fact, it was precisely because nobody had stopped them.
It was with dismay they realized that Winry and Riza were now further along the line of booths. With Al and his little date. They were laughing and clapping and clearly enjoying themselves. Ed and Roy broke apart, mouthing silently in outrage as they straightened their clothes.
“We’ve been cuckolded, Fullmetal,” Roy muttered, sighing.
II. Good guys all the villains zero / I'd save you from all that is evil / So you can sleep at night
“Okay shrimp, hand over your wallet and nobody gets hurt.”
Ed stared at the young punk in front of them, his bangs falling into his eyes, and tried to figure out what he was most angry about.
There was the name calling, for one. He’d grown a few inches and was well within the average range of height for a male of his age.
There was the fact that the dumbass had interrupted what had been, up until his ungracious entrance, a rather pleasant evening as he and Winry had walked through downtown Central towards their dinner reservations.
It was definitely the gun though. The pistol in the idiot’s hand was pointed directly at Winry. Saying it bugged him would have been an understatement. Ed put his hands together and tried to imagine the most painful and therefore appropriate way to punish him.
“Hey!” the punk yelled when he saw Ed move, his arm jumping from Winry to Ed. Ed growled, thankful that at least the gun wasn’t pointed at Winry anymore, and felt the alchemic energy starting to course through his body -
But before anything happened there was a dull thunk and a muffled cry. Ed lurched, suddenly coming out of the fighting stance, the blue energy crackling around his hands as he realized that the would-be robber was lying on his back, bleeding from a rapidly swelling lump above the eyes.
There was a wrench lying beyond his head.
Ed blinked at the groaning man, then looked back at Winry, standing there awkwardly in the cute little sundress and strappy heels she’d selected to wear to dinner. Her hands were anxiously clenching and unclenching around the clasp to her little clutch purse.
His eyebrows creased. “Where were you hiding that thing?!”
III. You won't understand if you gotta ask why / But if it's what you want I guess I'll try
"Let's stay in," Winry had suggested. "Al will make himself scarce. I'll make us dinner."
And Ed had agreed, because going out meant there was a possibility that they could run into people - people he didn't want to have to explain anything to yet. A nice, quiet dinner - just the two of them - had seemed just the thing.
Then he had wandered into the kitchen, straightening his tie - because Winry had gone to the trouble to bring a nice tablecloth and candles, and he'd felt compelled to dress up a little bit - and Winry had looked up from the pot she was stirring, eyebrows creased, and demanded, "Why are you clicking?"
"Huh?" It was true, too - his automail knee had been clicking, and he hadn't even realized.
The next thing he knew, she had him laid out on the workbench downstairs, stripped down to his boxers - though he was still wearing the tie.
And once she had figured out what was wrong with his knee, the quick fix turned into general maintenance on his leg, then on his arm, and by the time she had finished his automail had never been in better working order, it was almost time for Al to return home, and dinner was cold on the table.
Winry was cleaning her tools as he sat up, tugging at the knot of his tie. Clearing his throat, Ed couldn't help asking dryly, "How much do I owe you?'
IV. The earthly joy of sex and weed and wine / The high and low of life is not a crime
Ed woke up a full five and a half seconds after she did. She had shrieked and rolled off the bed with a thump and Ed sat up, instincts on full red alert after years of living dangerously on the road.
He regretted such a quick movement once he opened his eyes and took in the sunlight and realized his head hurt so badly it felt like his brain was about to leak out his ears.
Winry was still yelling something from the floor; stupidly, Ed craned his head to figure out what she was so upset about and when she caught sight of his eyes she shrieked even louder and grabbed at the blankets.
The comforter shifted over him, and Ed suddenly realized that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. And neither was she.
Things came together quickly in his mind as he yanked his pillow over any offending anatomy. This was Mustang’s fault. The bastard was the one who’d thrown the Yule Party - and surely the one who’d spiked the punch. Ed was going to kill him. Or thank him. Probably kill him - he and Winry had exchanged a few uncertain kisses but had never come close to the events of the night before.
He rolled over and glanced at Winry, who by now had the sheets wrapped tightly around her.
“Are you okay?” he asked carefully, wondering if she’d give him a chance to put pants on before he had to start dodging projectiles.
Her face was beet red. “Yes,” she replied tonelessly, her eyes trained on the floor. Ed swallowed hard, and after the longest moment of his life Winry snorted and added in a self-depreciating tone completely inappropriate for the situation, “You know, you could have at least bought me dinner first.”
His mouth drooped and he felt all the blood rush to his face. There had been irritation and embarrassment in her tone, but surprisingly little regret. Ed thought there might be a chance he could live through this.
“How about breakfast?” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. Winry’s eyebrows rose.
There had been no time for pants.
V. Can I have a second just to take in all the sights / All the southern stars and northern lights
The night, unbelievably, had passed without any significant disasters. They’d gone to dinner, where he hadn’t scarfed his food or belched loudly, and she had actually resisted the lure of the various automail clients that had been milling around - a significant risk, dating in Rush Valley.
After dinner there’d been a band playing on stage, and so they’d ordered dessert and wine and sat back and enjoyed the show, though Ed hadn’t worked up the courage to dance and Winry hadn’t pressed him.
When they’d finally left the tavern they’d ambled down the streets, shoulder to shoulder, until Winry had finally wrapped her arm around his and even if they weren’t exactly holding hands it was still enough to fluster Ed a little bit - she was close enough that he could smell her shampoo - but he still managed coherent conversation as they worked their way back to the shop, governed by starlight and talking about everything and nothing.
When they reached Garfield’s they simply stood on the back stoop. Even though they were both going inside, they were both aware that when they did, Garfield would be there, and Al would be there. The date would be over.
So they stood there and studied each other and put off putting the key in the door and going inside until they were leaning closer and closer to each other, and just when their lips were about to brush -
“I told you to have her back at eleven, you perverted teenager!” The unmistakably shrill voice of Garfield rang out from the upstairs window.
Ed reeled back. Winry choked, blushing instantly, and grabbed for the door handle, wheeling around and slipping inside so fast she slammed the door in his face.
“Hey!” Ed called, not sure if he was yelling at Winry or Garfield, who was still cooing something incomprehensible at him. He could hear Winry yelling something inside, and then Garfield disappeared.
Ed was still staring at the door when it finally cracked open again and Winry’s sheepish face appeared. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I forgot you were staying here.”
Rating: K
Fandom/Claim: Ed/Winry, Fullmetal Alchemist
Summary: Four first dates (and one morning after) that Ed and Winry never experience. Five unconnected drabbles, written for
5_nevers.
Warnings: Besides the blatant het shipping of Ed and Winry? All are manga-verse meant to be set post-series (and assuming a relatively happy ending might occur).
I. I took a poll and you were graded / Boys were highly overrated
He was starting to regret the carnival idea.
It had seemed safe enough - there was food, and games, and rides, so she could easily choose what she wanted to do and he wouldn’t have to play that awful guessing game of which most women seemed so fond. All he had to do was pay. Not to mention, Al had found his own date, and once Ed had finally wrapped his mind around the idea of his baby brother actually going out with girls he’d been relieved. If things appeared to be going particularly badly he could always track Al down and turn it into a double date. He’d covered all the bases.
He hadn’t counted on running into Mustang.
The bastard had caught him off guard too - they’d seen Hawkeye first, and of course wherever she was, Roy was in the immediate vicinity. Winry and Riza were locked in conversation, concerned with nobody but themselves, and when Roy had approached he’d looked at Ed for an explanation. Ed’s response had been to roll his eyes and growl low in his throat.
“What’s the matter, Fullmetal?” Roy queried, sidling up beside him. “Vendor refuse to sell you a beer?”
“Shut up.” Ed crossed his arms and glared at Winry, hoping she’d get the message to finish up so they could go on their way.
“You’re wearing an awfully long face for someone who’s here with such a pretty girl…” Roy frowned as he glanced at Winry and Riza before looking back at Ed. “Unless she came with Al and you’re the third wheel?”
That was when Ed started yelling. Roy merely smirked, but when Ed questioned exactly who he had come with - except not nearly as politely and with several mentions of Roy’s boyfriend - Roy started yelling back.
They finally stopped when they were right up in each other’s faces, Ed’s fists curled around Roy’s collar and Roy scrambling for his pockets for his gloves. It wasn’t because anybody had stopped them - in fact, it was precisely because nobody had stopped them.
It was with dismay they realized that Winry and Riza were now further along the line of booths. With Al and his little date. They were laughing and clapping and clearly enjoying themselves. Ed and Roy broke apart, mouthing silently in outrage as they straightened their clothes.
“We’ve been cuckolded, Fullmetal,” Roy muttered, sighing.
II. Good guys all the villains zero / I'd save you from all that is evil / So you can sleep at night
“Okay shrimp, hand over your wallet and nobody gets hurt.”
Ed stared at the young punk in front of them, his bangs falling into his eyes, and tried to figure out what he was most angry about.
There was the name calling, for one. He’d grown a few inches and was well within the average range of height for a male of his age.
There was the fact that the dumbass had interrupted what had been, up until his ungracious entrance, a rather pleasant evening as he and Winry had walked through downtown Central towards their dinner reservations.
It was definitely the gun though. The pistol in the idiot’s hand was pointed directly at Winry. Saying it bugged him would have been an understatement. Ed put his hands together and tried to imagine the most painful and therefore appropriate way to punish him.
“Hey!” the punk yelled when he saw Ed move, his arm jumping from Winry to Ed. Ed growled, thankful that at least the gun wasn’t pointed at Winry anymore, and felt the alchemic energy starting to course through his body -
But before anything happened there was a dull thunk and a muffled cry. Ed lurched, suddenly coming out of the fighting stance, the blue energy crackling around his hands as he realized that the would-be robber was lying on his back, bleeding from a rapidly swelling lump above the eyes.
There was a wrench lying beyond his head.
Ed blinked at the groaning man, then looked back at Winry, standing there awkwardly in the cute little sundress and strappy heels she’d selected to wear to dinner. Her hands were anxiously clenching and unclenching around the clasp to her little clutch purse.
His eyebrows creased. “Where were you hiding that thing?!”
III. You won't understand if you gotta ask why / But if it's what you want I guess I'll try
"Let's stay in," Winry had suggested. "Al will make himself scarce. I'll make us dinner."
And Ed had agreed, because going out meant there was a possibility that they could run into people - people he didn't want to have to explain anything to yet. A nice, quiet dinner - just the two of them - had seemed just the thing.
Then he had wandered into the kitchen, straightening his tie - because Winry had gone to the trouble to bring a nice tablecloth and candles, and he'd felt compelled to dress up a little bit - and Winry had looked up from the pot she was stirring, eyebrows creased, and demanded, "Why are you clicking?"
"Huh?" It was true, too - his automail knee had been clicking, and he hadn't even realized.
The next thing he knew, she had him laid out on the workbench downstairs, stripped down to his boxers - though he was still wearing the tie.
And once she had figured out what was wrong with his knee, the quick fix turned into general maintenance on his leg, then on his arm, and by the time she had finished his automail had never been in better working order, it was almost time for Al to return home, and dinner was cold on the table.
Winry was cleaning her tools as he sat up, tugging at the knot of his tie. Clearing his throat, Ed couldn't help asking dryly, "How much do I owe you?'
IV. The earthly joy of sex and weed and wine / The high and low of life is not a crime
Ed woke up a full five and a half seconds after she did. She had shrieked and rolled off the bed with a thump and Ed sat up, instincts on full red alert after years of living dangerously on the road.
He regretted such a quick movement once he opened his eyes and took in the sunlight and realized his head hurt so badly it felt like his brain was about to leak out his ears.
Winry was still yelling something from the floor; stupidly, Ed craned his head to figure out what she was so upset about and when she caught sight of his eyes she shrieked even louder and grabbed at the blankets.
The comforter shifted over him, and Ed suddenly realized that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. And neither was she.
Things came together quickly in his mind as he yanked his pillow over any offending anatomy. This was Mustang’s fault. The bastard was the one who’d thrown the Yule Party - and surely the one who’d spiked the punch. Ed was going to kill him. Or thank him. Probably kill him - he and Winry had exchanged a few uncertain kisses but had never come close to the events of the night before.
He rolled over and glanced at Winry, who by now had the sheets wrapped tightly around her.
“Are you okay?” he asked carefully, wondering if she’d give him a chance to put pants on before he had to start dodging projectiles.
Her face was beet red. “Yes,” she replied tonelessly, her eyes trained on the floor. Ed swallowed hard, and after the longest moment of his life Winry snorted and added in a self-depreciating tone completely inappropriate for the situation, “You know, you could have at least bought me dinner first.”
His mouth drooped and he felt all the blood rush to his face. There had been irritation and embarrassment in her tone, but surprisingly little regret. Ed thought there might be a chance he could live through this.
“How about breakfast?” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. Winry’s eyebrows rose.
There had been no time for pants.
V. Can I have a second just to take in all the sights / All the southern stars and northern lights
The night, unbelievably, had passed without any significant disasters. They’d gone to dinner, where he hadn’t scarfed his food or belched loudly, and she had actually resisted the lure of the various automail clients that had been milling around - a significant risk, dating in Rush Valley.
After dinner there’d been a band playing on stage, and so they’d ordered dessert and wine and sat back and enjoyed the show, though Ed hadn’t worked up the courage to dance and Winry hadn’t pressed him.
When they’d finally left the tavern they’d ambled down the streets, shoulder to shoulder, until Winry had finally wrapped her arm around his and even if they weren’t exactly holding hands it was still enough to fluster Ed a little bit - she was close enough that he could smell her shampoo - but he still managed coherent conversation as they worked their way back to the shop, governed by starlight and talking about everything and nothing.
When they reached Garfield’s they simply stood on the back stoop. Even though they were both going inside, they were both aware that when they did, Garfield would be there, and Al would be there. The date would be over.
So they stood there and studied each other and put off putting the key in the door and going inside until they were leaning closer and closer to each other, and just when their lips were about to brush -
“I told you to have her back at eleven, you perverted teenager!” The unmistakably shrill voice of Garfield rang out from the upstairs window.
Ed reeled back. Winry choked, blushing instantly, and grabbed for the door handle, wheeling around and slipping inside so fast she slammed the door in his face.
“Hey!” Ed called, not sure if he was yelling at Winry or Garfield, who was still cooing something incomprehensible at him. He could hear Winry yelling something inside, and then Garfield disappeared.
Ed was still staring at the door when it finally cracked open again and Winry’s sheepish face appeared. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I forgot you were staying here.”