Disclaimer: This story is based on situations and characters created and owned by Hiromu Arakawa.


The first time they kiss it is an accident.

He is sitting in bed with his gleaming right arm hanging limply in a sling, his heavy left leg strapped to the bed. His usually bright (though, not lately, she muses) eyes are slightly glazed over, but they sluggishly focus on her as she steps into his temporary bedroom, her arms laden with a tray of warm chicken noodle soup and a glass of water.

"No milk," he says lethargically. She sighs. Even when he is completely out of it, he can still manage to maintain his incredible stubbornness and piss her off all at once. It is a goddamn talent, that's for sure.

"No, no milk," she says wearily, setting the tray on the bedside table. The abundant number of medicine bottles that are already sitting there troubles her, but she looks away. "When have I ever brought you milk?"

He shrugs, then winces as his steal healing shoulder delivers a sharp pain that seems to throb through the rest of his body, even to his toes. He clutches at the dirty bandages desperately with his one good arm, golden eyes suddenly alert and panicked. "W-Winry?" he gasps.

She rushes to him then, an open bottle of painkillers already in her hand, the glass of water in another. She is used to this by now, it has happened a few times this week. She hands him a rather large white tablet, which he grasps with shaking hands. A sweat is already starting to break out on his forehead, and his dirty blonde bangs are beginning to stick to his face.

"What did I tell you about moving, Ed?" she says, slightly exasperated. If she's told him once, she's told him a hundred times. But since when had he ever listened?

He whispers an apology and his breathing slows to a normal pace. His left hand is still holding his opposite shoulder, but with less intensity as before. He swallows thickly and his eyes close tiredly, right at the moment that she sits on his bed, right beside his new prosthetic leg. She touches it softly, but he doesn't (or can't) register her fingers on the cool metal surface of his recently-replaced limb.

It is then, right at that moment, that it happens. She hadn't realized how close she was sitting to him until he starts tilting forward, seemingly asleep. In an effort to catch him before he inflicted more harm on his sensitive arm, she leaned forward as well, arms out and at the ready.

Before she knows it, his lips are crashing (quite literally, she thinks later on, rubbing the skin on the top of her lips) on to hers. Her face burns a fire engine red, she swears that all the muscles in her body have atrophied because she can't seem to pull away, the idiot is still asleep and goddamn him.

When her brain starts to function properly again

half a minute later she slowly disengages herself from Edward's (warm, loving, dead asleep) mouth and gently lays his golden blonde head on the pillow. Hastily grabbing the untouched tray sitting on the bedside table, she tiptoes her way across the creaky wooden floorboards and shuts the door quietly behind her.

Within the privacy of her room, Winry Rockbell makes the childish vow to never wash her mouth again.

A/n: A little idea in my head that came about in between writing chapters for Subject to Change that I had to right down. Hope it was enjoyable! I hope it was an acceptable romance-ish thing. Please let me know if there's any mistakes in it.

My original plan for this was to be short, multichapter fic, but I think I like it better as a oneshot. It's complete for now, at least until I manage to get any other ideas. -.-;;

As always, thank you! Until next time then...

Michi P.