What can I say? I lost my drive for writing for a long time, I guess. Let's see if I can finish this.
CHAPTER 10 - PARTY AFTERMATH
Fletcher was pissed, to the very least. Not that last night hadn't been fun, but being the only sober person amongst a group of drunken teenagers was quite frustrating.
He had slept in Alphonse's room. Very much like a rock, because he was so tired. It wasn't usual for him to wake up so late – the bedroom clock pointed out it was already half past eleven. Well, they only arrived at about a quarter before five in the morning, so it was only natural that he'd slept to this hour.
Cleverly thinking that it was impolite to wake up half-drunk people, he got his clothes on and left the house – not before stepping into the living room to check on his brother.
Russell was just lying on the carpet – still clutching an empty bottle –, one boot on his foot and the other one nowehere to be seen. Hm. Last night's tragic casualty: a shoe, missing in action. Best not to trouble himself with that small detail for now.
He noticed Alphonse. How was it possible that such a responsible person could get himself into such a situation? Sprawled across the large sofa, shirtless, pants unzipped and belt half-falling to the floor. A trail of drool trickled from his open mouth down his cheek, dripping into a tiny pool.
On his lap lay a large purple hat with a white ribbon wrapped around it. How quaint; Fletcher could have sworn he'd seen it during the night.
While he was eating his half-breakfast, half-lunch in the nearest restaurant, he remembered: it was the security guard's hat.
It was almost 3 PM when Fletcher decided to return to the Elric household. It was cold outside, and since last night's snow had melted the streets had a very characteristic smell. It was better than the alcohol-rimmed air inside the Elric house, anytime.
But he needed to wake everyone up. They couldn't just sleep all day, could they?
Instead of waking his brother up he decided to go and try to talk with Edward. It seemed like a good idea. Edward hadn't been doing too many weird things last night like singing on a stage and groping random women – like Fletcher's brother had done.
He gently knocked on the door. Nor response came. Maybe Edward was still asleep. So he opened the door and softly called for the eldest Elric.
"Edward?" the smell of alcohol inside this particular room was extremely intense, and it hit him like a slap on the cheek.
"Sorry to bother you buuuuuh- Whaaa?! Oh my! I- I'm ss- sso ssss-"
He stumbled backwards and closed the door as quickly as he could, slamming it loudly. Oh, his poor virgin eyes…
Because of the loud noise, Winry and Edward woke up pretty startled. Took them almost a minute to figure out what had happened.
"Shit," Edward cursed.
"Whoops," was Winry's comment.
Edward lay sprawled upon the bed, belly up, completely naked. Winry had been sleeping against his chest, one leg stretched over Ed's own legs. At least – luckily – one of the sheets was barely covering her behind.
She removed herself from Ed's torso and stretched as far as she could muster. Man, she was really sore from sleeping in such an odd position.
"Wha- How can you be so relaxed?" Ed was furious. The kid just walked right into them!
"Wait." He froze. This couldn't be happening. "Why in the world are you – "
She was naked. In his bed. But his boxers were still there.
Oh boy. Something was wrong.
"I swear to God you have the very worst memory in the world, Edo. Ah, I need a bath…"
He tried not to look. He did, honestly. But her… curvaceousness was just making everything very tricky.
"Please tell me we didn't…" He struggled for the right words, "do the do."
Good grief, he hoped not. His tongue still felt like sandpaper and his throat itched like Hell, not to mention the throb that kept pulsing at his head. His self-awareness immediately prompted him to pull up the sheets and cover himself up.
Winry giggled a little at his choice of words, then wrinkled her nose and frowned. "Geeze, aren't I supposed to be the one with memory loss?"
Ed just tilted his head sideways, like that'd help his memories come to. Winry sighed.
"You were really sweet," she told him tenderly, "and then it was fun and..."
Winry's eyes fluttered a little at the warm little tug she suddenly felt down there. "And it was interesting, but no. We didn't "do the do", not all the way."
Edward blinked, hoping that it would shake some more awareness into him.
"Oh," he said when he remembered. Good. They didn't quite come it it... Well, they did come, just not... Whatever. That was a relief. He wanted their first time to be special and with a "normal" Winry, not a hormone-junky, spazzy-memory Winry. "Yeah, sorry. Guess I was just waking up and my head's all foggy."
He felt awkward to boot, but Winry seemed unabashed. Like she was used to them having a routine of their own - which they hadn't, at least not yet. Edward asked himself if one day he'd be able to just be like this, naked in bed with her, completely comfortable. Maybe he would. Or maybe she was just like this because of her current condition, he couldn't really tell.
"Hm," she nodded and smiled, pulling the sheets up to her as well. "I guess I better cover myself up, since you're just going to stare at the wall anyway."
He chuckled and shrugged. After she was covered he looked at her and smiled. She smiled back, sending his stomach flipping up and about for a reason completely unrelated with the hangover.
"Well, I guess I better get myself into a shower… No chance you'll be joining me in it? Wash my back and I'll wash yours?" She stuck out her tongue slightly, teasingly. He just put up his hands and shook his head.
"Let's just try to keep this simple, and… uh. Take it slow."
Winry nodded, wrapping herself in the sheet entirely and, before leaving for the bathroom, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. It was quick and simple and uncomplicated, much the way Ed liked it.
"You're such a thoughtful guy," she cooed.
The shower helped her shake most of her nausea away. The dull throb at her temples and the uncomfortable burning and churning of her stomach persisted, though somewhat subsided. She realized she was hungry, devilishly so. Maybe she'd go downstairs and devour the rest of last night's dinner. She felt like making another pie.
Winry toweled herself off hastily and while walking towards her bedroom she rapped on Edward's door. "Your turn to get all squeaky clean!"
When she made her way downstairs, dressed in comfortable pants and t-shirt, towel secured around her wet head, she was suddenly very aware of the faint smell of distilled alcohol inside the house.
A disgruntled Fletcher was already in the kitchen, windows wide open despite the cold – to help refresh the ambiance inside the house, and maybe to keep himself from bursting into flames – bustling about with pots and pans and eggs and food. The smile was very appeasing to the famished Winry.
She walked up to Fletcher just as he was pouring eggs into the frying pan.
"Smells good!" she chirped. But instead of his usual nice reply, Fletched jumped up and let out a loud squeak, nearly spilling the contents of the pan all over the place. As soon as he looked at her his face turned deep red and he splutterd incoherently.
Winy vaguely remembered someone at the bedroom… oh no. Did Fletcher see them? Did he see her naked? Crappity-crap.
"I'll leave you to it then!" She blurted, grabbing a random piece of fruit and getting the heck out of the kitchen. She actually felt embarrassed, especially considering the kid was younger than her. What had he been thinking anyway, just strolling into someone's bedroom after a night-out like that? Obviously things had to happen. Things always happened between a couple of enamored, horny teenagers... or at least that's what she told herself.
Winry stopped at the sight of the two other boys in the living room; she couldn't suppress a laugh despite herself.
Alphonse was sitting on the couch, but not doing a very good job at it. His head lolled to the sides every now and then, a weird hat rested upon it. He was shirtless, but had a blanket thrown around him. On his hand a glass with water and something fizzing at the bottom of it; probably an aspirin.
Russell sat on the armchair beside the sofa. He wasn't doing very well himself, but at least his eyes were open – reddened, but open. He also held a glass that fizzled but was already halfway through, his other arm dangling from him like it didn't even belong attached to his body. He only had one boot on, but didn't even seem to register that fact.
"Good morning, boys. Sleep alright?" Winry asked gently, taking a seat by Al's side and taking a bite at her – was it a pear? Yes, a pear. Not exactly what she had in mind - she needed hot, substancial food - but it still helped settle her unruly stomach.
"Hmm," Russell nodded.
"Don't talk so loudly," Al whined, though she'd spoken softly. Al cringed and squinted at the glass of water before pouring it down his throat, making a face after he finished.
He clicked his tongue and stretched his arm to set the glass down on the coffee table ahead of him, but missed it by about a mile or two and the glass fell on the floor with a shrill crash.
"Crap," Al swore, "Fuhh, 'm never drinking again."
He whined and groaned at the same time as he sunk into the couch, snuggled in the blanket, the hat lopsided but still securely strapped to his head. Winry chuckled.
After some time Fletcher appeared at their side, a plate full of steaming hot food on each of his hands. Winry found helserf slavering with antecipation - food, at last!
"Eat," was all he said as he set the plates down on the coffee table. He never made eye contact with Winry – why did she feel a little guilty? – but he returned a second time with a mug of orange juice, two glasses and some cutlery juggled in his hands. He set them down and disappeared again, silently.
"Thank you." Winry called, but the only sign that he heard her was the way he stumbled clumsily on his own two feet.
Winry discarded her pear – way more interested in the leftover Bolognese and scrambled eggs to care for fruit – and ate away at it carelessly.
Russell took a few bites of scrambled eggs but Al just groaned and moaned and occasionally stirred under the blanket. "I'm hibernating," he told Winry when she nudged him and suggested he eat something.
"Crazy night, huh?" Russell chewed slowly, downing half a glass of juice in one swig.
"Mmmm," Winry nodded, mouthful of nommy goodness and uncaring for her manners.
When Ed came downstairs and found them sitting around the table – Al buried under the fabric and groaning like an old person, Winry and Russell eating absent-mindedly like a couple of over-partied zombies – he couldn't help but chuckle.
Ed merely fetched himself a glass and filled it with juice - twice. The liquid was sweet and soothing in his churning stomach, and he sighed contently.
"You're not going to eat anything?" Winry asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"My stomach's not up to it," Ed responded, making a face at the food. Even the smell bothered him. "I'm not hungry."
Al's voice crawled out faintly, muffled beneath his soft fluffy shelter. "That's gotta be the first time I ever heard that."
"Good to know you're alive, baby brother!" Ed called out, much louder than necessary. Alphonse moaned, complaining about his head again, and they all laughed...
Except for Fletcher, who was outside basking in the remaining sunlight despite the cold. He needed the cold right now, if he was going to have to go back into the house and act like a normal person. Up to that day he had never seen a naked woman before, so he was genuinely trying to figure out how to deal with it (aside from just "beating" it off).
It was much warmer inside the house despite the open window. The kind of warm that invited you to sit down and put your feet up in the air and just relax and laze around all day.
Edward nudged Winry aside on the couch; Alphonse only grumbled further because he was being squeezed into a tight space, but he coulnd't even muster the strength to complain anymore.
Winry took a moment to look at Edward and give him what was, hopefully, a seductive smile. She leaned in closer to him, her hand snaking up his thigh. Al was in his own secluded little spot and Russell seemed to be dozing off after eating, so she was, technically, being discrete.
It was his fault for taking the seat next to her. Now that her stomach wasn't bothering her so much, another feeling began to settle down south of her waistline, that comforting heat pooling viciously in her loins. Her hand drew closer to her objective, and Ed blushed visibly.
But instead of responding in the same flirtatious manner, Ed's mouth just drew into a smirk and he snorted, seemingly amused.
"What is it?" she demanded, taken aback.
"It's just that you look so cute with a towel on your head and your face full of food."
Winry's nose twitched. Was her face dirty? Oh God, she must've been eating like a piglet. Regaining her composture, she smacked her lips and asked, "I'd ask you to lick it off me, but you seem to be put off from food right now."
Ed blushed and his eyes darted away from her face; Russell snorted and hid his face in his palms; Al let out a placantly loud "EEEEEEWWWWW," and squirmed feebly under the blankets in protest.
"Well, if Elric's not up to it, I would glady -"
Ed cut Russell off immediatly. "Finish that, and the only thing you'll be eating will be my fist."
Winry threw her head back and laughed. Ah, boys. So easy.
She noticed something on one of the ceiling beams and squinted at it.
"Wait," she asked the two guys who were now glaring daggers at each other, pointing upwards. "What is that? On the ceiling?"
The boys turned their heads in the commanded direction.
"Ah," Russell said after a pause, his jaw slack. "So that's where my boot went."
END OF CH. 10
So yeah, for some reason today I felt like giving this another go... Sorry if it's shorter than what it used to be.
What do you guys think? Shall I cut to the finish line? I'm not doing it in just one chapter though, just FYI. Don't just want to rush it off.
I'll take suggestions, prompts and requests if anyone's up for them. :)