A/N: Chapter 2! :D This was the second hardest chapter for me to write. Why? Well... just because... My only comments about it would have to be... I've been reading far too much doujinshi! X3 Oh well, doujinshis good for the soul (ya right Shannon). Enjoy~


"But you're caked in mud!"

"You're the one that got me dirty!"

"Don't push the blame onto me Edward Elric! You are taking off those clothes and that's FINAL!"

Her bedroom had never seemed so crowded. Or wet. The wooden floorboards were glistening in raindrop varnish, and on top of that slightly significant problem Edward Elric was standing in her room layered in mud. Things could not get any more irritating.

"Okay Winry, if you absolutely insist…"

What the hell was his problem? Obviously if he continued drip-drying like a complete idiot he'd end up catching a cold, and on top of that he was creating a serious hazard by littering the floor with his dirty Elric mud water, in which someone was sure to sprain their ankle on late in the night. His ability to act sensible had seemingly not improved since he'd—

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Winry's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she watched Ed freely begin to take off his shirt. In her room. With her evidently present. He continued to just stand there, shirt halfway off his body, as she bore a hole through his taught little six-pack.

"You asked for this."

"I DID NOT!"

"Well where the fuck would you—"

"PUT IT BACK ON DAMMIT!" She was beginning to feel highly nauseous. Most likely from all the blush crinkling her face into a fiery red mess. Or maybe from the fact that Ed had just been about to completely strip down in her room. Yet… she'd seen him like this so many times before… why did it suddenly seem so terribly insidious—

"Okay, fine…" Winry took a deep, trembling breath, her composure snapping back into place. "I'll leave, and you change."

She gave a flippant whip of the head, her feet guiding her a safe distance out the door before she spun back around and thrusted it shut with a haughty hmph!.

However, she had barely taken a step away from the 'occupied room' when a thought of striking importance hit her: she had left her underwear out on the bed. In plain sight.

Not good.

Providing no warning whatsoever Winry thrashed open the door, her eyes landing directly on a topless Ed in the process of unzipping his pants.

All she could manage to do (aside from shushing her nervous system's over-dramatized eye candy identification alarm) was produce an awkward laugh. "Woopsies, sorry 'bout that…" she giggled ridiculously, the mental image of Ed staring at her like she was some psychotic nutcase making her soul evaporate right out of its mortified casing.

Carefully (probably too carefully) she closed the door, divorcing her eyes from the growingly hard-not-to-look-at image located in her room. An immediate attack of hyper-ventilating followed suit, complete with a body overly hyped up on epinephrine and a heart that was trying to beat the world record for most thumps in a second.

Yet still, the fact remained that her underwear was in there, unhidden, calling out with their pink lacy lining for the whole world to come ogle over. She had to save her underwear. No, her dignity. Yes, her dignity was at stake here, along with her image as a conscientious, hard-working young lady just brimming with the potential to become a future automail extraordinaire. Yes, her underwear had to be rescued, before it was too late—

Winry flung the door open again, its knob smacking the wall with a dent-worthy thud as she searched the vicinity for her underwear. But her eyes were taken hostage by another entity in the room, one whose presence was a much stronger, much more imperializing one in comparison to her tiny pink undies, leaving her numbly gawking at sights she had no intentions of sighting and conjuring images her brain was not at that moment prepared to conjure, oh the horrifying feeling of being glued to the spot—

"Is there a problem?" Ed asked innocently enough, nothing but a pair of faded white boxers covering his very well-toned body. Yet somehow, Winry did not take his comment as being very innocent. He was doing this to her on purpose. Oh yes, he was trying to make her look like a perverted little whore-faced—

"NOPE GOODBYE!"

The door was slammed so hard its direction of swing nearly reversed. She stood there, hand stuck to the doorknob, relentless in its attempt to keep that door wide wide open for the whole town of Resembool to see. She had officially forgotten how to breathe.

Embarking on a tug-of-war match with her hand, Winry was again hit by the cold hard fact that her underwear still remained air-bathing on her bed, advertising itself to all who surrounded it. She yanked her hand off with a strained huff, her eyes bulging from being toiled with in such a vulgar, uncivilized way.

She had to finish her mission. Had to.

Taking a deep, chakra-aligning breath, Winry allowed herself to open the door with a mature amount of force, its hinges squeaking liberally as she freely welcomed herself back into the visual battle zone. She ignored the idiot looming before her with a highly refined look of snootery, not at all noticing that he was now casually clothed in a clean pair of jeans and had yet to put back on a top.

"Uh, Winry…"

"Silence!" she lifted her hand with a commanding snap. "I did not come in here for the purpose of fulfilling my perverted fantasies, but instead, for the sole purpose of retrieving my adorable little—"

"—this?"

Her stomach skydived before she even got the chance to see what 'this' correlated to. Braving the sight that inevitably existed before her, Winry was pleased to look upon her hot pink lacy thong being presented to her, lazy-ass chauffeur style, by Ed's hand. Her vocal cords went into autopilot mode before her mind could even produce legible words.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING FINGERING MY UNDERWEAR?"

"You mean you actually wear one of these?"

"YES ED, I DO WEAR A THONG, IS THERE A PROBLEM WITH A MATURE WOMAN SUCH AS MYSELF WEARING A THONG?"

"So you're wearing one right now?"

His question was left very purposely unanswered as Winry violently ripped the flimsy pink material from out of his hand, her face matching its pinky hues with stunning accuracy.

"Get out."

"Nah."

"I said get out!"

"Then where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?"

"With the dog, obviously!"

"HA, you're funny Winry!"

"GET OUT!"

Even the room seemed to shake at her tectonic plate shifting command. With a look of unaffected stubbornness, Ed strutted coolly past Winry, hands shoved down his pant pockets in a way he undoubtedly thought made him look ultra cool. "Okaaay, guess I'm sleeping with Den then…"

Winry felt a vein upset the smoothness of her facial skin. "Wait."

Ed continued walking.

"I said WAIT DAMMIT!"

Thoughtlessly, or perhaps with thought that she would've liked to have been thoughtless, Winry bolted in front of him, a stubborn frown stretched across her face as she shot down his defiant golden orbs with her own cheeky blues. "I told you to wait!"

An incredibly cocky, overtly evil smirk inched across his face. Winry felt her heart faint. "Are you a liar, Winry Rockbell?"

Her eyes blinked in shock. "Obviously not."

"Then why'd you tell me to get out when you really wanted me to stay?" he took a step towards her, his eyes like crackling stars of thunder beneath the murky veil of night.

"Piss off Ed," Winry tore her eyes away from his gaze, fearful of being electrocuted into an eternal state of staring if she'd have continued for a split-second longer. "You can't classify that as a lie."

"So then you weren't lying when you said you wore thongs?" he placed his hand on the wall behind her, his face looming ever so close to her own.

"Nope."

"You weren't lying when you said you missed me?"

"Do you really think I'm that mean?"

"And you weren't lying when you said you loved me?"

"Of course no—"

Her mouth shut down. Her mind shut down. Her body shut down. Everything just shut down. All she could see, all she could hear, was Ed, Ed Ed Ed, he was overtaking her, unfairly invading her, approaching her, locking her body into a stupefied position of non-retaliation as he leaned in towards her, hypnotizing her with those sweet, crystal honey eyes of his, it wasn't fair, he wasn't allowed to devour her weak spots like that, wasn't allowed to alchemize her into a state of oblivious insensibility with those clever words of his, wasn't allowed to just take her heart and dissect it of all its secrets and heavily-locked coverts—

"I… I…" Winry's mouth was barely moving, her vocal cords hardly vibrating, it was all she could do to not glance down at his mouth, that part of his body drawing her closer and closer and deeper and deeper into his control… "I never said that."

"Winry," the way he said her name, breathed it with such a deliberate, eloquent inflection, made her spine completely liquefy, forcing her to collapse right against the wall's wooden support. "I thought you said you weren't a liar."

His breath was grazing her now, caressing her face in a pleasurably wicked way that made her lips involuntarily pucker, instinctively part and pant and beg, beg for something they had only ever dreamed about, had only ever experienced in the realm of dreams and nightmares and lurid delusions—

"I… I'm not a liar," the words stuck to her teeth, stuck to the air with the sticky, heavy weight of spoken, air-kissed lies, forcing her eyes to just barely hover open and her lips to just barely reach out more…

"Then why are you lying to me?" he was looking straight into her, the gold rings of his eyes lassoing her into a position of unmovable, powerless immobilization, snaking the soul right through the emptiness of her pupils, teasing her into this state where lying was no longer possible, no longer feasible…

"I'm not…" Winry didn't know what to do. For once in her life, she literally had no sense, no instinct, no intuitive flicker informing her of what to do; she was completely barren. Deserted. Alone. Yet…

They were literally only inches apart now. Their lips. Inches.

"I really do… I…" her back oozed down the wall, down down down. She was sinking. She was sinking into the ground, melting into a puddle that would carpet the floor and moisturize the wood. "… I really do… love you…"

Whatever force had been holding them apart before was gone; within one petrified second, Winry had lost all ability to stand, her body nearly catapulting to the ground before Ed had wrapped his arms around her, pulled her towards his body and smashed his lips into hers. Somehow Winry managed to thread her arms around his neck, sensually fingering the outline of each little neck muscle, grinding her lips deeper and deeper into his until her entire body gave out, pulling both her and Ed down to the ground into some sort of uncomfortably comfortable sitting position that left Winry being shoved against the wall and Ed sprawled over top of her as her pelvis desperately, gravely tried its hardest to ram into his body, align itself with the smoothness of his waist. Their mouths were starved, uncontrollable, manoeuvring past strands of wet, spit-glistening hair and massaging the other's lips with propulsive movements of climatic desire, a taste test of saliva and skin and tongue—

She didn't know how it happened. They just went… her hands, they were sliding up and down Ed's chest, thriving off the feeling of its strength, creating a fuzzy, orgasmic layer of friction that both excited and terrified Winry's insides, making her clitoris pulse and her vagina radiate with heat and unbearable, insatiable craving. Hair plastered across her back, smeared across her face, she pressed further into Ed's mouth, her breaths coming and going in short, laborious gags that hardly accomplished anything besides exciting the lungs into a feeling of false starvation. For so long she'd waited, for so so long she'd put up with playing that fucking game of cat and mouse, of waiting and waiting and waiting, and now she could finally feel her insides again, feel the flaming beat of her heart as it shrieked out in palpitating, systolically unending lust, feel the savagery of her female organs as they shivered in erotic gratification. She had never tasted something that had tasted quite like this, she could taste it in her mouth, her chest, her blood, her mind, it contaminated her, dirtied her, fed the sinful pleasures that had been hidden for so long in the dingiest prison cells of her id. She couldn't handle it any longer, the tolerance had evaporated with the continual rising and falling of their tightly twined bodies, she was growing hornily impatient…

Ed's hands slid beneath her tank top, crawling their way with sticky smoothness to places where Winry didn't want them to go, where she knew they'd go, where she ever so desperately desired them to go—

"E-Ed…" Winry's thighs quivered violently, pressing stiffly up towards the sky as they tried to make contact with his lower half, doing everything in their power to remain raised and interceptive. Ed's lips had detoured from her mouth, pressing against her neck, journeying closer and closer to the rise of her chest, leaving her in a state of complete and utter immobility, yet a kind of immobility that commanded her to seek and create pleasure in any way possible, so long as she remained in heavy bodily contact with Ed. A delectable moan seeped from her lips as she felt his tongue race across her navel, tracing her belly button with its wet, chilly pressure.

She'd barely even had a chance to think when Ed lifted his mouth from off her stomach, his lips gravitating back towards Winry's, hands sliding smoothly beneath the flaps of her tank and up the length of her back. However, his lips weren't moving fast enough for her standards, she needed to reunite with them faster, needed to satisfy her craving for passionate mouth fondling quicker, she could feel her heartbeat punching her crotch and turning it into a rhythmical pad of desire, hot and steamy, prepped for interception. Fervently she injected her tongue into Ed's mouth, its sloppy surface lacing around his in sensual pressurization. The top of her tank, the area that had only ever so fragilely covered her chest, was being pushed further and further down her body, its straps sliding perilously across the slopes of her shoulders till her breasts peeped out, firm and erect, smothering their plump curvature temptingly across Ed's chest. This skin to skin contact, so alarmingly intimate yet delightfully warm… for so long she's waited for this…. for so long. Experience didn't even matter. The pleasure being configured between the two's touching and kissing and moaning, it was magical enough to erase the tiny flaws and hesitations. She stole a gasp as Ed's lips traveled their way down towards her collarbone.

Perhaps it was due to their separation, a separation that had been both necessary and far too long to handle, that everything seemed to be so deep and passionate. Winry didn't want him to leave. She didn't want him to leave ever, ever again. She wanted to hug and kiss him like this whenever she wanted, and to feel the strength of his body wanting her and only her, no other female body in the world but hers. He left her suffering from such erotic paralysis after each and every kiss… Winry had fallen for him about fifty times over in less than a minute. But she couldn't let him be the only daring one in this relationship; she took the plunge, began nipping his earlobe, dotting it with the moist tip of her tongue before squeezing it with seductive pressure, like a carnivorous flower sucking the life out of its prey, always keeping him in a moment of half-aware suspense. Sensing his enjoyment, she let her lips slide off, their wet surface hovering just above the opening of his ear. "Told you I'm not a liar."

Her raspy voice escalated into a full-on groan; Ed's hand was now pressing into her vagina, groping and squeezing it, sending her into an uncontainable scraping motion along the floor, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

The air smacked at her bare, naked skin with a cool briskness, giving rise to the fact that Winry wasn't wearing shorts anymore, informing her that they had long been disposed of, informing her that the time had almost come where she would be giving herself to him, all of its purity and innocence and naivety, all of it, all of it was going to Ed, all of it…

As each layer of clothing was peeled off by greedy, yearning hands Winry couldn't help but have a quick moment of panic, a terrifying moment of paralyzingly thick panic; however, the moment she sensed Ed's presence, warmly pressing against her, rising and falling with breathy surges of life… she knew it'd all be okay. She'd been waiting so long for this. And besides, she'd promised— she'd give him everything…


It was different. There was definitely something very very different about her. The mirror didn't lie. It would always dependably reflect back at you the truths you already knew were true, but just needed visual evidence for in order to grippingly, credibly believe. It was the bluntest way one could face themselves in the morning. The cold, hard reflection of a mirror, so clean and vibrant in its communication efforts, a messiah of miniscule truths, only given away by the flaws of the face as it held back the secrets it had been sworn to hold, its only hints tiny facial fragmentations and complexion cracks. After all, the face was like the mirror of the soul, putting artistry and word to the body's thoughts and feelings. And it's pretty damn hard to hide something in a mirror. Despite its truthful intentions, it was the biggest back-stabbing traitor you could ever face so early in the morning.

And that's just what Winry did. She stared at herself, stared right at the big, introspective traitor fastened to the bathroom wall before her, her eyes like newly blossomed bluebells getting their first glimpse of a thundercloud. Something internal was off… something not even the Big Bad Mr. Mirror could see… she could feel it.

Peeling her gaze away from her reflective twin, Winry went to grab her toothbrush, its pink plastic handle digging into her palm with a relentless viciousness she had never before known her toothbrush to house. Why did everything seem so overdramatized this morning?

Muscle memory assisted her in dressing the toothbrush for its formal date of tooth brushing; Winry shoved its head into her mouth, the spangled banner of toothpaste mushing against her teeth with pasty clinginess. Her taste buds recoiled as the mint flavour speared them into tingly awakening.

As she released a bomb of saliva-infected toothpaste into the sink, another presence appeared beside her, slicing the mirror into a broken, overtaken world of claustrophobic compactness, into a two-part ice cube that had only ever been created with the intentions of being a single unified one.

Ed had awoken.

Winry cast her eyes downward, toothbrush quickening its scrubbing pace almost to the point of panic but not quite. Those pink silk pyjamas she was wearing, sweetly blushing at her from the mirror's volumeless depths, suddenly felt very very… contaminated. The tank top's crushed rose petal shimmer, it no longer smiled at her, no longer concealed her, but instead flirted with its surroundings and made it a point to exemplify the very tiny bit of stomach peek-a-booing from out above her shorts. Her crotch began pulsing, sore and tired but driven mad by the presence now right beside her, ultra conscientious of its every movement and every jerk forward as toothpaste came sliding from out of his mouth with stringy luxuriousness. The pulsing ascended into an orgasmic wince.

Winry covered up her reddening face by spitting sloppily into the sink, teensy dobs of toothpaste outlining her lips haphazardly. Ed immediately copied her actions, only the sound of excess toothpaste escaping his mouth much more audibly intrusive than Winry's concise little spit.

Forcing herself to hold on to her maturity and not make some smart-assy comment proved difficult, but Winry managed nonetheless, her strength as a highly dignified, highly sophisticated individual shining through even amidst the morning awkwardness. She closed her eyes, allowing the minty overload gassing her mouth to fill her nasal passage and take her on a resurrecting journey of morning arousal, the toothbrush absently jabbing the side of her mouth as she artificially lost herself in the moment.

The spit that had been sluggishly frothing down her throat two seconds ago, however, came back up again in a shocking counterattack of regurgitation as she felt Ed's hand rest gently on her head. Her eyes remained closed, too afraid to peek at the unfolding scene, but she could most definitely feel his fingers lacing between her tussled strands of hair, ever so softly patting them down and reassuring them into a smooth state of untussled, bed-headless composure. She could just tell what he wanted to say to her with that simple press of the palm, that reassuring rest of the fingers, the leaching of his warmth right into her scalp, her skull…

Almost as soon as it had happened, it ended; Ed bent down to give one final spit-emptying of the mouth, threw a towel over his shoulder, and strutted out of the bathroom with a morning saunter that made it look as if he had something important to do but he was too groggy to remember what. Winry's toothbrush hung from her mouth, sliding past her lips till its head caught against her teeth; maybe nothinghad changed after all. Maybe… maybe…

No. That internal feeling of heaviness, like something had intruded into her body and began to fester and multiply and perform vast operations of asexual reproduction that would completely take over her body and cover her in some sickening rash—

No. It wasn't that bad. Yet, it was, at the same time. It was maddening, really. Completely and utterly maddening. Never before had she felt so insanely invaded, so filled up and encroached, when she knew there was nothing to even worry about. She was perfectly fine. The same old Winry Rockbell she had been yesterday, right?

Something told her… something that felt intuitive, but at the same time wasn't her normal twinge of intuition, more like this natural bed of instinct that had been lying dormant within her for this incredibly long, long period of time… this 'thing', so to speak…

It was telling her something would never be the same.


A/N: And with that, I would LOVE to hear your thoughts! This chapter was actually a lot of fun, because I had lot of fun writing about Ed and Winry's bickering, hehe! But anyways, stay tuned for chapter 3!

Many thanks go out to all those who read/faved/reviewd/watched this story! Thank you so much! And as usual, feedback and all that jazz is always welcome. However, I do want to make mention quickly... if you don't enjoy my writing style, or you find it's not to your liking, please don't bog me down with reviews about it. I've worked very hard to hone and develop my own personal style, and, while I realize I cannot please everyone, I try my best with what I can do. While I respect those of you who enjoy simpler styles of writing, I'd appreciate it if you didn't leave a review criticizing my writing style because of that. My writing comes directly from my soul, and my main goal is to simply provide EdWin fans with a fanfic they can enjoy and fangirl a little over. Thanks for understanding guys! :)