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“Hey, Winry.”
“Go away Ed.”
“No, I have a question.”
Winry spins around so fast that Ed has to jump back to avoid getting stabbed by the screwdriver she has clasped in her fist, “I am NOT done yet! Fucking hell Ed! I told you that I need at least a few more hours!”
Ed rolls his eyes, “I know! I have a question that isn’t about the leg!”
“I don’t care, go away!” Winry says, looking like she really is going to stab him with the screwdriver.
Ed raises his hands in what he hopes is a placating way. “It’s fine! Okay, fine, I’ll ask you later!” He says stepping away as carefully as possible without turning his back, which is surprisingly difficult to do with a peg leg instead of automail.
Winry’s knuckles go white around the screwdriver, and he bolts.
It’s not fair. It wasn’t even his fault that the stupid knee joint got knocked out of place. He had been sparring with Roy, because there was no way in hell he was gonna let that bastard lose his edge if he wants to become Fuhrer. Even Grumman had an assassination attempt, as if Roy’s gonna do all he wants to do, he’s gonna piss off some very powerful people, and he can’t afford to forget how to dodge a blow.
He plops down onto the porch, and stares into the distance with Den nuzzling him at his side. He hadn’t been back to see Pinako since New Years, and that time he’d had Roy and Al to keep him company, this time, with Al in Xing, and Roy in some stupid meeting out west, he was forced to travel an eternity on the train to get here. Winry had left Rush Valley in the spring, when Pinako had fallen and broken her leg. As much as Ed hated to admit it, Pinako was old. Old and short. Old, short and mortal. The crater his mother’s death left in his life would always be larger than that of any other person he’d ever lose, and in a way it was soothing to know that even Al’s death wouldn’t hurt worse than losing her. It would hurt a shitload, obviously, but the bar for emotional pain had reached its maximum, and nothing could be worse.
It was difficult to not dwell on mortality, when he had spent too many years in the army. He knew the pain of losing parents, friends, innocents, and even his brother for a short period of time, but he tried to focus on the present, and forget that one day he’d wake up to an empty bed, because Roy was 14 years his senior, and in the running for the Fuhrership. If old age didn’t kill him, an assassin, would and then where would Ed be? Or maybe he’d be real lucky, and that stint he pulled with Kimbley cost him a literal decade, and he’d die alongside Roy in their wrinkly old men clothes.
He laughed at the image that conjured up. Roy Mustang in pants that came up to his rib cage, and that signature toothless profile that old people had when they took out their dentures. Oh, hell he wanted to see that! He’d totally have ear hairs that were so long they’d brush his shoulders, and giant saggy ears.
Obviously, he’d be by far the most attractive decrepit old man in the city, but that was because Roy aged better than that stupid whiskey he’d bought for his own birthday. Ed could see him now, sitting on a park bench, using his walking cane to point at things, and smacking his tongue against the rook of his mouth in that way all old people seem to do. Ed wasn’t quite sure if he’d age well, Hohenhiem hadn’t exactly aged, and Trisha hadn’t had any family so it was a crapshoot if Elrics aged well or not. Roy seemed to think that Ed aged beautifully, but he wasn’t exactly a reliable source on these matters. It didn’t really matter anyways, they could both age into spotted raisins, and they would totally still be having sex...which reminded him.
“I’m not done yet Ed, so don’t even ask.” Winry glares, as she reaches for the cookie jar. “I’m just getting some food so I don’t pass out and drool all over the beautiful masterpiece you insist on destroying.”
“Can I ask you my question then?”
Winry sighs, “Fine, what’s your question.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Ed begins, “You know that fake skin stuff they are putting on automail these days?”
She nods, “Yeah, why? You want some on your leg? It would look nice, but it isn’t as flexible as you’d think and--”
“No!” Ed says, “Ew, that’d be weird.” He grimaces, “No, I was thinking that since it covers the automail, you could make an automail strap on and use that skin stuff to cover it, and make it safe for use.”
“Oh,” She says, “Yeah, I guess. It could have joints and vibrating----” She stops mid-sentence and stares at him, “No.”
“Hey!” Ed protests, “Why not!?”
“ Because , Edward , I am not making you a fucking automail strap on so you can finally have the big dick you’ve always dreamed of!”
“Fuck off! My dick is perfectly fine thank you. I just think that having one that vibrates--”
“HOLY SHIT!” Winry shouts, “SHUT UP EDWARD! I AM NOT MAKING YOU A VIBRATING AUTOMAIL DILDO AND THAT'S FINAL!”
“BUT WHAT WILL WE DO WHEN WE GET OLD!?” Ed cries out, “SHIT DOESN’T WORK LIKE IT SHOULD THEN!”
“I DON’T CARE! ” Winry slams a fist on the counter top, “I REALLY REALLY DO NOT CARE, YOUR SAD FLOPPY DICK WILL BE YOUR PROBLEM, NOT MINE.”
“Should I even ask?” Pinako says, rolling her chair into the room.
“NO!” Ed and Winry say in unison, spinning to look at her, their faces flushed, and pale simultaneously.
“Alright, I won’t then.” Pinako says, turning her chair around and rolling away, “Now you know what to get them for their wedding present, Winry.” She says, before slamming the door to her bedroom shut.