Title: The Cure
Author: S J Smith
Characters: Edward, Winry
Summary: "You didn't tell me it'd hurt this much."
Disclaimer: No, no, never, never, uh-uh-uh
A.N.: D. M. Evans looked this over. Any mistakes are mine. Written for the fma_fic_challenge community on LJ; with the prompt "whisper".
Warning: Sap. *eyeroll*
The room remained dim except for the burning candle. Her expression tight, Winry's eyes slotted against the faint glow. "Damn it, Ed, you didn't tell me it'd hurt this much."
"Sorry. I didn't expect," his voice trailed off. "Sorry." Edward dipped a cloth into a wash basin, wringing it out and laying it on Winry's forehead. Damp and cool, it eased the band that seemed to stretch from temple to temple and over the crown of her head. "But I did warn you about mixing your drinks. If you're drinking beer, you don't switch to whiskey or those stupid fruity girly things." Winry would've killed him for the lecturing tone in his voice but it hurt too much to move.
"Just shut up," she whined, wishing the room would stop spinning, that her stomach would just settle down. Winry couldn't remember how often she'd thrown up in the past however many forevers it had been since Ed had brought her home from the party. It felt like it had been weeks but she knew it couldn't have been, not if Ed was still wearing that dark grey shirt. She wondered what had happened to his shoes after she puked on them.
The cloth moving on her skin startled her and Winry blinked, not quite awake. "Shh, it's okay. Go back to sleep." Metal fingers touched her forehead, cool and smooth, stroking away the pain lines. Drifting again, she heard Ed whisper, "It's my turn to take care of you."