It had been good to hear Winry's voice. His relief that no one had followed her had been so short lived upon meeting Greed again. He was worried and tired. The smell of blood still hung in his nostrils and the cries of Lin echoed in his ears. He felt guilty at letting Al go alone to Dr. Knox's house, to face Lan Fan. He sighed, and then pushed those thoughts away. Winry. He had to keep her safe. Did that mean keeping her away or pulling her closer? He had hesitated when they spoke, almost requesting that she come back and stay with them, but stopped at the last second. It was rude, even he could see that. It wouldn't be fair to bother her more than he already did, it was selfish. So he settled on telling her to "take care of herself."

It had been really good to hear her voice. Too good. Even if she did call him creepy; she had also been happy. Happy. He had made her happy. He let the words echo in his head, trying his best to imagine her as she said them. She would have been working; half-dressed and sweaty. Had she licked her lips in between saying she was happy and thanking him for calling? Suddenly, it didn't matter that he was tired as thoughts of Winry took over his mind. Thoughts of her happy at something he did, with wet lips. He couldn't help himself; he was too tired to fight the feelings as he ran a hand through his hair.

He let his left hand trail down his body, imagining Winry's fingertips. He moaned as he took hold of himself and visions of her wet lips floated through his mind. He teased himself, letting the remembered touches and smells take over his conscious thoughts. Winry. He imagined her silky hair trailing over his abdomen and thighs. He imagined her breasts slowly emerging from beneath her black top as he pulled the zipper down. He remembered a stolen flash of panties from the last time he was in the hospital and began moving his hand faster. Remembering how she hadn't even known he'd seen when she'd casually laid a warm hand on his shoulder immediately after. He imagined himself sliding over on the bed, ignoring her protests, until he was face to face with her. He imagined grabbing her, sliding her off the stool and onto his lap. Her skirt would ride up and her bare legs would encircle his waist. She would fight him a little, protesting as he tried to drown her words with kisses. As she finally gave in, returned his love, he would turn pushing her back onto the bed. He fought with her clothes, tearing her underwear in the process and just as she was about to be exposed to him……

He gasped. His rational mind took over again as he reached release. He lay still for a few moments, panting. Ugh, he'd made a mess. He leaned over and fished a handkerchief out of the pocket of his discarded pants. He cleaned the mess and chucked the sodden tissue at the waste bin across the room. He felt better, more relaxed, as he rolled over. He grasped the pillow in a hug, thoughts of Winry turning gentle and tame, just sunny afternoons and remembered snatches of her singing to him. He drifted off to sleep.