Title: My Childhood Playmate
Summery: "The worst thing that can happen to you is falling in love with your best friend."
Notes from Shardy: Ah, my first FMA fanfic here. Gee, I never imagined I would come back to teh!Pit. I guess I just needed an ego boost or something.
"Oh, Edward, thank goodness you answered! We have a problem here!"
His face drained of its color upon hearing the voice of the backwards old bat on the other side of the phone.
"Winry's pregnant! She tried to pull it off as being sick, but how can she be sick if she's gaining weight?"
His topaz-hued eyes nearly popped of out their sockets, pupils contracting to only tiny pinpricks of shock.
"We're still not sure of the sex of the child, but I can tell you that she's already four months along."
Oh shit! Last time he went to Resembool was four months ago! Maybe Auntie Pinako wouldn't remember the time or at least, not think of the connection.
"Come to think of it, the last time you paid us a visit was exactly four months ago…"
Of course it would be otherwise. The old woman had only the memory of an elephant and the omniscience of God.
"Funny little coincidence, isn't it, Edward?"
Judging by the empathetic tone, she'd probably already put two and two together and was waiting for Ed to be intimidated enough to come out and admit that he had a little late-night playtime with his best friend and what started as an innocent wrestling match led to taboo actions that can only be found in trashy novels sold in the very back of the old bookstore. It was because Ed was intimidated that he kept his mouth shut.
"Hello?…Hello? Edward? Are you there, Edward?"
He was glad he was too frightened to breathe and give himself away. However, he could not hold out for long; first, breathing was a vital action in order to sustain life and second, she was starting to become suspicious with each syllable that passed those wrinkled lips and every second of empty silence from his side.
So he had no choice but to pull the oldest, cheapest, and most obvious trick in the book.
"Aunt Pinako?" he exclaimed, taking his sleeve and rubbing it violently against the receiver, smiling at the approving scratching sound that the action emitted. "I can't hear you! Something's wrong with this phone!"
"What? Edward--!" she yelled, and he knew she knew exactly what he was doing. Did he care? How else was he to get out of this situation?
"Did you say something, Aunt Pinako?" he continued, as though he were honestly confused and could not understand her, increasing the vigor rubbing. "I think you said something, but I can't understand! You're breaking up!"
"Damn this stupid line! Oh, well, I guess I'll talk to ya later!"
"Edward Elric, I know you'r—"
Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Ed collapsed back down on his bed, running his human hand through his golden bangs as he stared up at the blank ceiling. Dammit. Winry pregnant. With his kid. HIS kid. And neither of them were even seventeen yet. He knew he shouldn't have gone into her room that night.
But he did. Not with those kind of intentions though. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't seen her in so long. He wanted to talk, he had said as he opened the door only to discover her wide awake and unable to sleep as well.
They talked. Together they recollected moments in their childhood, of special times when all was right with the world and the only things they had to worry about were if their mothers were going to find out they played in the mud again. Together they laughed at the old jokes they used to play, how scared Winry had been when Ed and Al transmuted a doll for her, planted a dead snake on the windowsill of Old Lady Smithee who was even crankier than Auntie Pinako…
The talks led to light teasing and the teasing led to a playful wrestling match, an innocent game they used to play as children to settle a score, that whomever managed to pin the other down was right.
Unfortunately, they were no longer children and needs and hormones now added to the equation. Six years ago, all that was at stake in this game was being correct in their perspective; now with their bodies rubbing against each other, Ed had felt lightheaded and his face burning with sensations he had never felt before. Distracted by the awareness of her warmth and the musical sound of her laugh, she easily had him pinned to the bed, unspoken rule declaring her the winner of this match.
It no longer mattered. And when he had reached up to entangle the fingers of his left hand in her soft hair, she must have realized that the wrestling match was no longer a concern. He was not shy in pulling her head down toward his, to press his lips hungrily and demanding against hers. He was not the hesitant type, even if it meant that she was going to magically pull her damn wrench out of nowhere and beat him to a mass of gore because of it.
This was not the first time he had stolen a kiss from Winry.
They had been only nine, and it was then his mother had informed him and Al about the origin of babies. Ed didn't quite understand as those particular hormones had not developed yet, however, he did understand the intensity of his crush on Winry, the fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he saw her. He might not have understood why it was there, but it was there just the same. He had convinced Winry to come out alone with him for a moment one sunny afternoon and pulled the classic behind-the-tree trick. Pretending to show her the bird's nest he found on one of the lower branches, he waited for her to be completely absorbed in this discovery before placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her on her lips.
Back then, Winry had been shocked, mortified even, shoving Ed away with a small scream before bursting into tears and running full speed back to her house, leaving poor little Ed standing there in confusion, wondering what he had done wrong. The parents thought the action was adorable, Al laughed his butt off, and Winry didn't speak to him for two days.
This time was different. This time she was not going to get away from him. For a moment she was still as he kissed her passionately, pressing her body full flush against his own. His tongue flicked across her lips, begging for access and not taking "no" for an answer.
This time, her response was positive, kissing him back with a need of one who had waited too long for him, too long for this moment. And it was over. Soon, he was the one pinning her down, kissing her everywhere, caressing her in places where his lips were not.
They must have done it three times. Maybe four. Like he had been keeping count. All that he was aware of was their warm bodies entwined in a lover's knot, her own kisses and caresses and the way she breathed, saying his name, begging him to continue, holding onto him like she would never let him go again.
It had been like that for a week. Every night. Whether he would sneak into her room, or she into his, they made love over and over and over. They experimented. They did whatever tidbits they had picked up and their own creativity.
He knew their late night excursions did not go unnoticed. Al long since knew Ed would jump Winry if he ever go the chance (especially with her running around in that tube top), and nothing escaped Pinako. She would remark on hearing tiny noises at night with her brows raised and holding her pipe in a poise that all but said, "I know EXACTLY what's going on, you naughty children, and you are fools in thinking you can hide it from me".
When he first left home, Ed felt nothing but determination to undo a foolish action. Now, he left like he was literally being torn in half. He couldn't even properly say good-bye to Winry. He knew that if he had held her during those last moments, he would have been lost completely and would never leave again. She must have felt the same way. She didn't cry, she didn't even reach for him. She just smiled and threatened to hunt him down and beat him with her wrench if he didn't write once in a while. They both knew better, saw each other right through their masks, but they did nothing.
During these past four months, Ed did everything in the book to make an excuse to go back to Resembool. And it was during those four months that he learned two very vital lessons: that no matter how much he cried and threatened, Mustang would never be sympathetic towards him and automail is very hard to break.
And now, Winry was pregnant.
Ed turned over on his side, moaning with discouragement in his pillow. If he didn't get to Resembool as soon as possible, Aunt Pinako would skin him alive next time she saw him. But he needed a legitimate excuse to go home, and while a pregnant girlfriend was legit enough, there was no way in hell he was telling Mustang that! The Flame would never let him hear the end of it.
A sound knock jerked Ed from his thoughts, and the steel helmet of his younger brother poked through the slightly opened door. "Hey, Ed, you asleep?" Al inquired, a tone of apology in his voice in case he had interrupted him.
"No, just thinking," Ed replied quietly. "Where were you?"
"Oh, visiting Riza and Hayate," he answered cheerfully. There was something about small furry animals that made Al acquire a tone of contentment Ed rarely heard anymore from his brother.
One day, Al, Edward vowed, one that he made every day, every waking moment of his being. One day, I swear, I'll restore you.
"Oh, and you have a visitor," Al continued as if remembering that important information. "I ran into him on my way here."
The hulking suit of armor entered the room and stepped aside as Roy Mustang walked in with an apathetic, "Good afternoon, Edward." Ed merely tensed, much like a cat with an arched back and fur standing straight up in defense.
"Are you doing well?"
Ed hated it when Mustang acted all nice and talkative. It usually meant the Colonel was plotting something that no doubt would be at the young alchemist's expense. "Don't beat around the bush and just tell me what you want," Ed spat, glaring at the Flame.
Mustang shrugged indifferently. "How would you feel about going home?"
The silence was threatening. Ed narrowed his eyes darkly at Mustang. "What are you planning?" he demanded heatedly. There was a secret agenda to this seemingly innocent question. With Mustang, it was all about personal agenda. Hell, the man probably invented the phrase.
"Oh, Edward, must you be so suspicious of everything I say?"
Mustang tsked, shaking his head in an almost regretful manner. "Such a cynical one," he remarked, dark eyes looking off to the side. "And here I thought you would be pleased to learn that I'm sending you home."
"Why you selfish bas—what did you say?" As soon as the announcement registered, Ed stared at the colonel as if seeing him for the first time.
Mustang smiled, one that sent chills skittering down Ed's spinal column. "Sure! Take a few weeks off! Go visit your family, relax, take a vacation!" He even reached over and patted Ed on the head. "You've been working so hard these past few years. You deserve a break."
"And what do I have to do to get this break?" Ed demanded, now more than ever convinced that Mustang was plotting his untimely demise.
Mustang stepped back and his chest inhaled in a deep sigh. "Edward, I really wish you would stop talking like I'm planning something."
How was it everyone could read his mind like a friggin' book? "And I really wish you would stop talking like you're doing this just to be nice," Ed shot back.
"What if I am simply being nice?" Mustang countered, dark eyes glinting with amusement.
"Dammit, Mustang!" He leaped to his feet as if ready to challenge the Flame to an alchemy battle right then and there in the dorm.
Al just simply watched with interest. His brother and the Flame going head-to-head was always a good show.
Mustang simply turned and began walking towards the door. "A carriage will arrive shortly to take you boys to the station," he explained, ignoring the eyes stabbing invisible daggers into his back. He was about to depart completely when he stopped like he suddenly remembered something and turned around, hand resting on the doorknob.
"Oh, by the way, Edward…congratulations."
Ed's expression softened from frustrated to puzzled. Then the heavy feeling of a boulder slowly sinking into his gut was confirmed when Mustang drew a yellow envelope from his jacket pocket. "The old woman wrote me, explaining everything." The passive face lit up with a wicked grin. "Had a little bit a fun, didn't we? So, Edward, is it a boy or a girl?"
Mustang quickly shut the door and the lamp that was thrown with the intention of smashing his face smashed to pieces against the wood instead.