Title: Creamy Endings
Author: S J Smith
Summary: Winry's making pies. Ed's protesting the topping.
Disclaimer: Arakawa absolutely owns all.
Notes: This takes place during Winry's return to Rezembool, from Briggs.
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Granny wasn't a baker, not really, but Winry had learned from Mrs. Hughes how to build a pie. It was too early in the year for apples, but Granny had canned pumpkin last fall for soups, and Winry appropriated two full jars for making pies. The recipe for the filling was easy, make a kind of a custard with the pumpkin, some milk, spices and eggs, then fill the waiting crusts.
Winry hummed as she worked, the sweet scent soon rising out of the oven and attracting the attention of all the men, including whatever had control of Ling. Maybe he – Winry guessed it was masculine, it still moved like a guy, after all – wasn't so different after all, but there was a sort of slick surface to him that Winry didn't like, especially compared with Ling's happy smile.
Ed stuck around after she'd managed to kick the others out of the kitchen, almost hovering, and Winry hated that prickly feeling on the back of her neck. "What?"
"I just wonder if they're going to taste as good as they smell."
She whirled and got a flash of too many teeth – Ed's cocky, teasing smile filled his face. "You don't have to worry about that, Ed. I'm a good baker."
"You're good at everything."
The words were mumbled, and for a second, Winry wasn't sure she'd heard them correctly, but Ed was looking off to the side, and it looked like he could be blushing. "Of course, I need to whip up some cream to put on those pies."
Ed snapped back around, horrified. "You'd wreck something that smells that good with imilk/i? That's so gross! Why would you want to destroy those pies with something a cow secreted!" Ed's screwed up face would look good on one of his weird monsters.
"Not everyone thinks milk is a bad thing, Ed," Winry said, her voice tart.
"They ought to! Stuff's so gross…" He kept making spitting sounds.
Winry rolled her eyes. "Fine, you don't have to eat the cream. I won't put it on the pies. She folded her arms, leaning against the countertop. "But there's milk in the pies, you know that, right?"
Ed blinked a few times, the happy expression he'd worn when she'd agreed not to put cream on the pies melting into dismay. "There is?"
"It's part of the recipe. I have to use it. But," she raised her eyebrows, "you eat milk in stew."
"That's different! It's stew! It's not pie!"
"No different," Winry said triumphantly. "So you'll eat my pie. Even if it has milk in it."
The whine was music to her ears.
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