Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's notes: For some reason, this was left resting somewhere inside my last semester's notebooks, so until today, I hadn't had the chance to post it. It's a really short drabble, but I hope you enjoy it! See you soon.


Ed never really talked whenever she fixed his automails.

Occasionally Winry tried to make up a conversation and he'd answer gruffly every now and then. Especially since she had taken a liking to scolding him for his recklessness. She would always ask questions about the same, old things, and they would never get into real depth for a specific subject. Questions about Central or the country's current situation were swiftly avoided, as usual, though. And when he didn't answer, she would frown until she started talking about random things again.

It wasn't like neither liked talking about war anyway.

Even if Winry sometimes felt slightly left out, disappointed; there was nothing she could do about it really. Ed was determined to do anything that would prevent her from getting involved in the conflicts...

Other than that, Ed answered almost every question about his health, Al, and any other thing that Winry came up with.

Whenever she ran out of topics, she would simply work silently on the twists and turns needed be made with her wrench and tools. It was one of those times that the blonde girl noticed how he always stared down at his limbs, never meeting her eyes if she ever searched for his, and his lips were set in a grim, thin line.

When he winced, she would pause from her work and look up at him. And he would, of course, refuse her gaze and turn away from her beseeching eyes. Always the same.

And yet, sometimes, he'd look back at her, offering a weak smile before asking her to continue.

If Winry ever doubted if her work was worth it, or if he even really cared for the matter, then she'd only have to remember Ed's smile and his eyes to know it was.