By Yellow Mask
Spoilers: Winry working in Rush Valley.
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.
AN: Just a bit of silliness that popped into my head one day. I'm writing so many serious chapter fics, so I thought I'd try to revisit the slightly humourous oneshot. And yes, I am aware that Christianity does not exist in the Fullmetal Alchemist universe, but I needed an excuse to get them drunk, so...Christmas party! This is a semi-companion piece to Under The Influence, the Royai equivalent. This story follows 'Drunk Ed', the other follows 'Drunk Roy'. The beginning section is the same for both, just from slightly different viewpoints.
And by the way, this is set in the manga-verse.
Winry heard about the drinking contest too late to intervene. In truth, she expected Ed to be a lightweight, and certainly hadn't expected him to be able to hold his own against the Colonel! Well, it wouldn't be the first time Ed exceeded expectations.
She had no idea how many shot glasses he'd downed, but she grabbed the latest one as he began to raise it, trying to prise it from his grip. Opposite them, Riza had Roy well in hand, her palm pressing against the rim of the glass and keeping it flat on the table.
"I think that's enough, sir."
"C'mooonnn, Hawkeye," he whined, "Jus' one mor'..."
"No more, you've had enough."
He glared at Ed, the effect ruined by the fact he seemed to be having trouble focusing on the boy's face. "You see? I tol' you I had it wors'."
At last, Ed's fingers relaxed around the glass, and Winry was able to slide it from his fingers.
"Win'yyyyy..." he bleated. "I was enjoyin' that."
Then Roy's comment seemed to penetrate his alcohol-saturated mind. "You? Have it wors'? Ha!"
It was with supreme effort that Winry restrained herself from whacking him upside the head. But he didn't need any head injuries on top of the killer hangover he was going to have tomorrow.
'Dammit!' she seethed silently. 'I came down from Rush Valley to spend Christmas with him – Al too, of course, but mostly him...and what does he do? He drinks himself into oblivion!'
"Hawkeye..." she could hear Roy whinging. "I need to drin' that. He hasn't go' his drin' anymo', and 'f I drin' now, I win!"
"Bastard," Ed's pronunciation was robbed of it's force by the way he had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Even 'f you win, I still shay I go' it wors'."
"You do no'!" Roy exclaimed. "You only see her for r...repairs – I hav ta see Riza ev'ry day."
"Uh...do you have any idea what they're arguing about?" Winry ventured.
"I have a feeling I don't want to know," Riza snorted, trying to tug Roy to his feet.
"I'm going to take the Colonel home," she called to the room in general. "And I think I'll retire for the night myself."
"Come on, Hawkeye," Breda grinned, "The night's still young."
"It's past midnight."
"Huh?" The burly soldier turned to look at the clock. "Oh, right..."
"Does anyone know where Al is?" Winry gasped, trying to help Ed to his feet. It felt like he weighed half a ton at least. "I could use a super-strong hand here."
"He went with Fuery," Riza reminded her. "The children's hospital, remember?"
Winry groaned. "Well, it looks like it's just you and me, Ed."
"Fine wit' me," Ed giggled.
As Riza all but dragged Roy from the room, Ed clutched frantically at his shoulders. "Win'y! Someone's stolen my coa'!"
"No one's taken your coat, Ed," she huffed. "It's still on the coat rack. Now listen carefully – you're officially trashed and you need to go to bed!"
Winry tried to haul him to his feet with his arm over her shoulders, except she made a very abrupt and sudden discovery. Ed was very heavy, and there was no way she could move him if he didn't want to be moved. And he didn't want to be.
She had expected Ed to stand with her, so the jerk when his weight arrested was completely unexpected. Winry ended up toppling into his lap with a startled squeak.
Even drunk, Ed's reflexes were still better than most. Before she could fall onto the floor, his hand shot out and wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him, preventing her from tipping off.
Winry waited a moment for her heart rate to slow, then tried to lean back.
Ed didn't move his arm. Winry remained firmly plastered to his body, breasts pressing against his chest, her face in his neck.
"Uh, Ed..." she began, her heart starting to race again. "Thanks for the timely catch, but...can you let go?"
"Why?" he muttered, "T'is is comfy."
She heard a snicker from the room's other occupants, and glared at them as best she could over Ed's shoulder.
"Come on, Ed. It's the alcohol – you don't really want this."
'No matter how much I might want it,' she added silently. 'But you're drunk. As I said, it's just the alcohol.'
"I do so wan' this," Ed grumbled. "But 'f you don' like it..."
His arm slipped away, allowing her to put some space between their bodies. Winry breathed a silent sigh of relief as she clambered off him – it had been hard to think straight with Ed's face inches away from hers, forcing her to concentrate all her willpower on not kissing him senseless.
"Now, how about that whole 'going to bed' thing I mentioned?"
Ed seemed to consider it. "Nah. I'm 'aving fun. I'm 'ere, you're 'ere, wha' more coul' I wan'?"
Winry resisted the urge to smash his forehead into the table.
"Hey," she called to the group behind her. "Anyone going to give me a hand? He's too heavy for me to move by myself."
Breda laughed. "I'm not lugging him back to his room! Just let him pass out where he is – he'll be fine in the morning. A hell of a hangover, but fine."
Winry scowled. "Wimps!"
"Hey, Win'y," Ed slurred. "I gorra ques'ion."
"Ed, you can ask me on the way to your room, now please get up!"
Ed refused to move, and instead plucked at the miniskirt she was wearing. "How come you 'ave to wear c'othes like this? Al'ays makes it sooo diffi'ult to concent'ate durin' repairs."
Winry was thrown for a loop. She'd never pictured Ed as being aware of what she was wearing – after all, she was the one who'd had a crush for so long. He didn't have those feelings for her...right?
But Ed's rambling didn't seem to have been discouraged in the least by his audience's lack of attention. "Hones'ly, working in tha' tiny li'l skirt...or tha' tubey-bra thin'...it's jus' plain dis'racting, 'cause then all I can thin' abou' is you and it's the mos' I can do not to jus' kiss you sens'less in the middle o' a repair..."
Winry almost fell over as his words sent her reeling. 'No, he's drunk, it doesn't mean anything!'
It was getting difficult to preserve her good intentions while Ed sat in front of her, completely drunk and spouting off everything she'd always wished for but had never dreamed of hearing from him.
So when Falman tapped her on the shoulder, she nearly screamed in shock. "Y-yeah?"
"Riza called," the older man said, trying to hide a smile as Ed weaved back and forth on the chair. "She says Ed's going to wake up with a killer hangover, so you should get him to drink about a heap of water, followed by burnt toast, followed by more water."
"She says that'll help the hangover."
"Oh, right, thanks," Winry smiled, then sighed in exasperation as Ed giggled wildly. "Any suggestions on how to get him upstairs and in his bed?"
"Well..." Falman tried to look innocent, and didn't quite manage it. "How about you just walk away?"
"And he'll follow me?"
"It's worth a shot, right?"
Winry shrugged, and began to walk away from Ed, heading for the door. To her surprise, Ed seemed almost alarmed by her sudden departure.
"Hey, Win'y," he called, trying to stand. "Wher' you goin'? Don' leave wi'hout me!"
She paused, allowing him to lurch drunkenly to her side. "Come on, Ed, I'm going upstairs."
He was swaying slightly, and Winry took him by the shoulders to steady him. They managed to stagger out the office door and to the end of the corridor, but the stairs were another story entirely.
"Why are they movin'?" Ed whimpered, eyeing the stairs as one would a known killer.
"They aren't moving, Ed. You only think they are."
"Don' patternize me, Win'y! They're movin'!"
Silently praying for patience, Winry tried to coax him up the steps. "Alright, Ed, they're moving. How about we get moving too?"
Winry tried to make her way up the stairs, trusting that Ed would follow her once more, except the stairs apparently looked more dangerous to Ed than she'd bargained on.
"Wa'ch ou', Win'y!"
And the sudden yank on her arm was so forceful it brought her to the floor. Her hands snatched automatically at anything that could keep her upright, only managing to seize Ed's shoulder on the way down. The clutching hand upset his already precarious balance, and he tumbled on top of her, driving the breath from her body.
Winry lay still for several minutes, trying to recover from her sudden winding. It was difficult with Ed lying on top of her – his weight was considerable, and he was making no effort to relieve it.
"Ed," she gasped out, "Can you move?"
"Comfy," he murmured, giving Winry a strong sense of deja vu. Hadn't they just had this conversation when she fell into his lap?
Ed sighed in contentment, and nuzzled her neck. Winry squirmed, trying to ignore the delicious shivers that ran up and down her spine.
"Ed...?" she whispered, trying to wriggle out from underneath him. They were right in front of the stairwell, if someone came along and saw them...
Then she froze. Ed's body – male, teenaged and full of hormones – had just reacted in a very predictable way to having a moving female body beneath it.
"Uh...Ed...?" Winry's voice had gone rather squeaky all of a sudden.
"Tol' you th' stairs were movin'. Better be carefu' they don' 'ttack you again."
For a moment, Winry couldn't help wondering if this was some sort of surreal dream. She was pinned under a drunken Edward who was fast becoming physically aroused by the bodily contact, and who was currently mumbling about evil moving stairs.
She didn't know whether to laugh or die of embarrassment.
"Ed...can you...move off me, please?"
Ed seemed to think for a moment. "'Kay."
He managed to half-roll, half-crawl off her, and Winry took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. And trying not to let her eyes stray below Ed's waistline.
"Let's...uh...let's take the elevator," Winry murmured, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of it in the first place.
Fortunately, Ed was uncharacteristically quiet during the elevator ride, the only breakout being the occasional dopey grin and idiotic chuckle. Somehow, Winry knew she was better off not knowing what he was thinking about.
She'd managed to procure Ed's dormitory keys from him, and lead him into his bedroom without much fuss. But then came the part where she tried to get him in the bed.
"Into the bed, Mr. Drunk-As-A-Skunk Fullmetal Alchemist."
"You too?" Ed asked hopefully.
"No, Ed, I'm not getting into bed with you. Trust me, go to bed and go to sleep, and you'll thank me in the morning."
"Well, you'll probably be too busy cursing alcohol to thank me, but I assume you'll be grateful I got you out of the party before you drank anymore."
To her surprise, Ed seemed to be thinking it over. "You're righ'. I don' than' you enough."
"Ed, I didn't mean it that way. You thank me plenty."
"Bu' no' enough," he continued doggedly. "I mean, I say than's for th' au'omail an' eve'ythin, bu' I never say than's for bein' so nice to me, or for stayin' my frien', or for..."
"Ed, that's okay, really," Winry cut him off. "I'm not all that great. I just do those things because...you're important to me."
Ed slumped onto his bed, grinning dazedly up at her. "Hey Win'y...I love you, you know tha', right?"
Winry gaped. He what? He loved her? He loved her? Her? But...he was drunk...
"Should I assume that's the alcohol talking?" she managed to breathe out.
Ed's face fell. "'F you do, I thin' I migh' cry."
Winry was at a loss for words. He meant it? Ed loved her, really loved her? "I...uh...I..."
"'S okay 'f you don' love me back," he murmured, looking absolutely crestfallen.
Winry took a deep breath. While a drunken slip of the tongue wasn't quite how she pictured them confessing to each other, this was it. Now or never. Sink or swim.
"I do love you, Ed. I have for quite a while."
"Really," Ed's face lit up like a kid who'd just been handed his favourite sweet.
"Really. Now go to sleep, I'll be here in the morning to help with your hangover."
Ed made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat, and closed his eyes.
Ed woke, a terrible pain thumping in his head. Had he been knocked out? He tried to struggle to his feet, to face whoever had attacked him, only to discover he was in his own bed. What?
Then memory returned, partially, at least. The Christmas party, the drinking contest with Roy...and everything afterwards was black. How had he gotten in his bed?
He winced as someone stepped into his room, the slap of feet on floorboards obscenely loud in his ears.
"Winry?" he croaked out, his mouth feeling as though it had been lined with ash. "What's...?"
"Your hangover's arrived, I see," she said, shoving a glass of water into his hands. "Don't worry, Riza told me how to take care of it."
"How'd I get here?" Ed muttered, taking a liberal swig of the water despite the protestations of his stomach. "I remember the drinking contest, but everything gets real foggy after that."
Winry had turned away to try and rearrange his bedclothes, and at those words, she had gone completely stiff.
"Nothing?" she whispered, her voice sounding strangled.
"Not a thing." He took another long drink.
Ed tried to see her face. Winry had sounded...sad. Why?
"Finish your water," she said abruptly, her voice tight. "You have to drink heaps, and then eat some burnt toast, and then drink some more."
"That doesn't sound like any cure I've ever heard of."
And as she stomped out the room – every step elected a wince from him as agony stabbed his temples – Ed couldn't help wondering what she was so angry about.
Winry gathered her things into her bag, trying to stifle tears. She was going to return to Rush Valley today. She had planned to stay in Central a week, but now...
Now, she didn't think she could. Not after...
'It really was the alcohol,' Winry thought in despair. 'Well, at least he didn't remember my confession. Thank heaven for small mercies.'
But Winry didn't feel very thankful at all. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears while she helped Ed through Riza's hangover cure, she wouldn't be able to last a week. She just needed to go back to Rush Valley, get some distance between them, and then she could deal with it.
Strange, she'd had little problem dealing with the fact that Ed didn't feel the same way, but to have her dreams handed to her on a silver platter and then snatched away was almost more than she could bear.
Her chest ached, her eyes burned, and Winry wanted nothing more than to lie on the bed, bury her face in the pillow, and have a good cry.
So she did.
"Garfiel needed her?" Al asked.
"That's what she said," Ed mused, waving as Winry's train pulled away from the station and trying not to be to disappointed. But he'd been looking forward to a week with Winry...
"Brother, did Winry seem...sad...to you?"
Ed shrugged. "Kinda. Probably just disappointed she didn't get to have a week in Central spending my money."
"Maybe...did something happen at the party?"
"I don't think so. I mean, I don't remember most of it..."
Al snickered. "Be glad, brother. You probably don't want to remember it."
"I don't know, Al. I get the feeling something important happened..."
Ed snuggled into his blankets with a grateful yawn. It had been a long day. A long, hard day of hangovers and taunts from Mustang's team about the party. Both Mustang and Hawkeye had taken the day off for some reason, and without the Lieutenant around to rein them in, the teasing had been near-endless. In short, he was grateful to be going to bed.
But in the twilight world between waking and sleeping, his memories filtered back to him.
Win'yyyyy...I was enjoyin' that.
Someone's stolen my coa'!
It's the alcohol – you don't really want this.
I do so wan' this.
It's the mos' I can do not to jus' kiss you sens'less in the middle o' a repair...
Tol' you th' stairs were movin'. Better be carefu' they don' 'ttack you again.
I don' than' you enough.
Hey Win'y...I love you, you know tha', right?
Should I assume that's the alcohol talking?
'F you do, I thin' I migh' cry.
I do love you, Ed. I have for quite a while.
Ed's eyes snapped open. He'd told Winry he loved her! And she loved him too! The urge to let out a joyful whoop was checked by the fact that Winry was no longer here. She'd gone back to Rush Valley. Why? Had she only said it to placate him?
Should I assume that's the alcohol talking?
Ed's eyes closed in momentary pain. He hadn't remembered. He'd woken up with no memory, and Winry must have assumed...
She must have assumed it truly was the alcohol talking.
No wonder she had bolted back to Rush Valley. She'd bared the deepest secrets of her heart and he hadn't even remembered talking to her the next morning. His stomach twisted at the thought of how hurt Winry must have been.
Well, he could fix it, right? Go to Rush Valley and tell her he remembered everything, and that the alcohol hadn't created his emotions, just made him more relaxed about expressing them.
He wondered how soon he could catch a train to Rush Valley.
Winry sighed as she began work on the automail leg. It was only a day after her return, but she was feeling better already. She no longer felt like she was going to burst into tears at any moment...but she still felt depressed and mopey. But she figured that was normal, and she'd probably be feeling depressed and mopey for quite a while.
Lost in her own thoughts, she never heard footsteps behind her. When someone cleared their throat right next to her ear, she bolted from the chair with a shriek, hand snatching her wrench, ready to defend herself...
But it was just Ed.
She threw the wrench anyway, giving vent to some of her feelings under the guise of being infuriated he'd broken his automail...hang on, it seemed in perfect working order.
Ed winced, clutching his head as he slowly made it to his feet again. He'd didn't yell or shout or ask why she'd hit him – he suspected he already knew.
"Winry," he said softly, standing directly in front of her.
Winry dropped her eyes to the floor. "Ed...why are you here? I mean, your limbs seem fine..."
"Well, you know how I forgot what I did the night I was drunk?" He tilted Winry's face up to his with soft fingers under her chin. "Well, my memory came back."
He leaned in towards her pale face and wide eyes. "And this time I can say, perfectly sober, that it certainly wasn't the alcohol."
Winry's mouth opened in surprise, but whatever she was going to say died in her throat as Ed's lips brushed hers.
'He meant it!' her brain screamed in joy. 'He meant it!'
She threw her arms around Ed;s neck and enthusiastically returned the kiss.