Fic: Prompt: "A Winter's Day"
Title: Snowman
by allegratheneko
Prompt: A Winter's Day
Rating: PG
It was snowing.
They say that each snow crystal is unique, a piece of art in itself; but from inside, all they saw was a sea of cotton balls clothing the landscape. The usually bustling fields were silent, animals having long since been taken into their barns. Even the plants seemed quiet, dipping bellow the additional weight of the snow before yielding to its will and bending over completely. Snow was rare this early in Resembool, it required some sort of celebration really.
Winry glanced up at Edward, who was watching a group of children run around outside. She followed his gaze back out the window, giggling as a boy threw the first handful of mush that signaled a coming battle; the unprepared victim spluttered indignantly before gathering his own ammo and launching a counter attack. Winry turned back to face Edward, expecting the corner of his mouth to be turned up in a lopsided grin as he shared in her amusement. His expression was serious, almost calculating as he somberly observed the younger group’s antics. Winry felt her own grin slide off, replaced with a puzzled frown. Edward’s eyes were focused, drinking up every detail of the scene unfurling before them as if to engrain it into his mind as he would a complicated array.
“Edward.” Winry said, attempting to capture his attention. She huffed when he didn’t so much as glance at her, moving to grab his shoulder but settling for an insistent tug at his shirt instead. She repeated his name with an adamant jerk at the cloth.
“Mm?” He acknowledged, eyes remaining trained out the window. Winry ground her teeth at the noncommittal noise, deciding that he had thoroughly earned it when she grabbed his braid and yanked it.
“OW- Jeez Win, what?” He demanded, finally turning around to glower at her as he massaged the back of his neck. Winry realized that she really wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say; there were questions and statements floating lucidly through her mind, but she had yet to put them into words.
“It’s snowing.” She stated eventually, running a hand through her hair as she averted her eyes.
“You don’t say.” Edward growled in response, apparently not deeming this statement of the obvious a good enough reason for such abuse.
“So I was thinking,” Winry continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “maybe we should have a snowball fight.” She glanced up to see Edward raising an eyebrow at her and quickly lowered her gaze. “I think that Al would enjoy it; he’d have an advantage anyway, without his hands getting numb.”
“Don’t you think that we’re a little old for that?” Ed asked, still appraising her skeptically.
“Not really.” Winry said, looking back out the window and realizing with a start that the group playing really couldn’t be considered children so much as teenagers; probably younger than herself and the prodigy sitting beside her, but not by much. “They look about our age.” She noted, eyebrows creasing as she assessed the validity of the statement. They should have looked around the same age, anyway.
“If you say so.” Edward muttered, looking away in clear dismissal of the idea. Winry looked back at him, trying to asses what specifically made it so hard for her to imagine him lobbing snowballs with the group.
It certainly wasn’t his height. Though she’d be loathe to admit it, he had grown; he stood a full head taller than her now and she actually had to look up to speak with him. But he was still by no means tall for his age; Winry wasn’t particularly tall, and most boys Edward’s age still towered over him- if by a less momentous amount. Despite the sudden growth spurt, that wasn’t nearly enough to set him apart from the rest.
Winry would admit to herself that he was muscular. No, that was an understatement- Edward had always been in good shape, but now he was ripped. She didn’t know if he’d gone through some sort of boot-camp after she left Briggs or if he’d just been hiding it under those winter coats, but now when he moved his muscles rippled in fascinating ways that even Armstrong’s sparkles wouldn’t sneeze at. Still, that alone couldn’t be it. Bulging muscles or not, Resembool was largely a farming community and Edward was probably not the biggest man out there, or the strongest. It had to be something beyond that.
When she studied his face, Winry thought that she might finally be getting somewhere. Edward didn’t look sixteen, his face had never really expressed his true age if she thought about it. There were little things- scars that made something within her clinch every time her eyes ran over them, so different than the various dips in her own hands where clumsy fingers had been caught in machines- scars that could have proved deadly had he dodged just a second slower, scars that reminded her of just how dangerous his life was. But everyone here had a few scars, mostly from machinery accidents like hers. It was a hard life, and while few were downright ragged, the wear showed on their faces. But the hard lines on Edward’s face were different.
They were marks of a childhood given up too soon, shouldering the responsibility of looking after a single mother and then a younger brother. The knowledge of his failures, the fear that he would fail again. The terror of sleepless nights left faint circles under his eyes, when he dreamed of what had happened, and what would happened if he couldn’t make everything alright again. It was never rightfully his burden to bear, but he placed the blame on his own head, and every clang that rang out rather than the soft thump of his own foot against the ground reminded him of just how close he had come to losing everything when he thought he had nothing left to lose.
Winry could see every mistake that Edward had made or blamed himself for carved into his face surer than any scar, and she wondered what her own face must look like. She wondered if it would be just as difficult to imagine herself gathering snow between shaking fingers, releasing the projectile before breathing on her hands to warm them, and smiling all the while. She wondered what they would say when a towering suit of armor strode up and asked to play.
“Let’s have a snowball fight.” She repeated earnestly.
“We don’t have enough people.” Edward stated without looking at her. “Al probably won’t be back for a while anyway.”
“Then let’s build a snowman.” She offered, undeterred.
“No.” He replied curtly. Winry frowned at him before getting up and tugging on her coat.
“Fine.” She replied, matching his tone as she struggled into her boots. Edward watched dubiously as Winry finished fastening them, pulled on a pair of gloves and tugged a hat over her ears determinedly. She opened the door and he cursed in surprise as the cold air hit him, retreating to the other side of the couch and glaring after her.
Still muttering to himself, Edward watched her figure retreat a few yards away from the house before stopping to appraise the scenery. She turned around a few times, waving at the brave warriors before turning back to the task at hand. Edward’s mouth twitched into a rueful smile when she pressed her hands together to form a rectangle, looking through it as if the shape would somehow help her refine her search. Seemingly satisfied with her current position, Winry plopped herself down and began to construct the base.
Several minutes passed as she pushed the snow together into something that seemed to resemble a circle, picking leaves or blades of grass out of the pile every now and again. Edward smirked when she glared at the offending items, imagining her threatening and growling at the inanimate objects. She continued pushing and plucking for another ten minutes, and Edward marveled at the fact that she seemed determined not to give up when there was clearly just not enough snow on the ground. She was walking several feet away now to gather handfuls of snow, and he thought it was pointless to put so much energy into something that would just melt the next day anyway; but that was Winry. She never did anything half-way.
Fifteen minutes later Edward contemplated the fine line between tenacity and pig-headedness. He knew that her gloves must be soaked by now, she should have been freezing- she was freezing, he was sure of it. But she didn’t spare so much as a longing glance towards the door. The base was completed, reaching mid-thigh, and Winry surveyed the accomplishment with a proud grin before moving on, presumably to make a head.
Sometimes Edward wondered how she could smile like that. His trademark smirk was legendary, and he would often treat Alphonse to a toothy grin after a won battle. But her smile was different. She was genuinely happy about so many things, no matter how small or simple. Sometimes Edward didn’t know how she managed it, after everything that had happened to her. Being taken captive by a group who would have thought nothing more of killing her than he did of swatting a gnat (and she never blamed him, when God it was all his fault), losing her parents even before he did, traveling in the hands of her parents’ killer; she just seemed to recover and move on no matter how huge the plight. He couldn’t see how. They had both had their share of misfortunes, neither one’s greater than the other, so why did she look so right out there building a snowman?
He remembered her saying once that she cried because he wouldn’t. He’d thought that was stupid at the time, there was a reason he wasn’t crying after all; if she cried in his place then it made his efforts a bit pointless. But maybe that was why she was able to smile like that; because she wasn’t afraid to cry. He’d always regarded crying as a sign of weakness- not that he thought Winry was weak, but to let your emotions get the better of you when crying didn’t do a thing to help the situation seemed like a pointless exercise. Looking at her now, he wondered if he’d had it backwards. Maybe the ability to cry when you wanted to was anything but weakness; maybe it enabled you to grin when you wanted to as well.
Without quite knowing what he was doing, Edward found himself groping for the snow boots he’d somehow kicked under the coach, reaching for his coat and rummaging through his pockets for wherever he stuck those damn gloves.
Winry glanced up when she heard the door shut, expecting to see Alphonse or Pinako announcing their arrival. She blinked in surprise as the Fullmetal Alchemist strode down the front steps, slipping on the last one and grabbing the handrail for dear life. Giggling would be an additional blow to his ego, but seemed entirely unavoidable.
“They’re a bit icy.” She called, trying to stifle her laughter. Edward looked up at her darkly, gradually releasing his vice grip on the wooden rail. He looked as if he had half a mind to just turn around and go back inside to collect the scattered scraps of his dignity. Heaving a sigh, Edward took a careful step and then continued on his way to Winry’s side.
“Stop!” She cried, rushing forwards before he could reach the plot and placing her hands on his shoulders restraining. “It’s not done yet.” She continued when Edward looked at her as if she were insane. His expression didn’t change.
“Just stay right there.” She ordered, backing up a few steps experimentally. She seemed appeased when he didn’t follow and strode back to the snowman.
“What’s the big surprise?” Edward demanded.
“You’ll see.” She replied in a sing-song voice, picking up the large snowball she’d dropped and resuming her work. Edward rocked back and forth on his heals, rubbing his gloved hands together irritatedly. It was cold and if she wasn’t done in another minute, he was going back inside.
He watched her plop the lopsided sphere onto the base, situating it so that she was sure it would stay, and begin carving at the face with her finger. Edward shifted to get a better look at it, but a threatening glance from Winry was enough to keep him from moving his feet. Which, incidentally, were starting to go numb. Ignoring Winry’s incredulous glance as he hopped around in some off-count imitation of a jig, Edward wondered why he wasn’t just waiting inside with the nice heater.
Winry turned back to the snowman, puckering her lips in thought as she made minor adjustments. Edward rolled his eyes when she started sanding down the sides with her hands.
“Will you just let me see it before we both get frostbite?” He demanded. With all the maturity and poise of a professional automail mechanic, Winry stuck her tongue out at him in response.
“I thought you were too big for snowmen.” She reminded him, continuing to shave down the sides. Edward didn’t respond, merely waiting. Finally she smiled, stepping back to take a final look at it.
“You may now see it.” Winry decreed with a theatrical wave of her hand. Edward snorted, but stepped forwards none the less. He looked at the creation blankly for a moment before recognition hit. Two sideways D’s formed lazy eyes, dotted pupils centered within them. A wide parabola stretched across the lower potion of the face, which he guessed to be the tongue, with a straight line denoting a mouth.
“It’s you.” Winry declared proudly. Edward’s mouth twitched, letting out a brief chuckle as the snowman glared up at him disinterestedly.
“I’d say that ‘artist’ is out as a career path for you.” He teased, ducking as Winry took a swipe at him.
“You’re lucky my wrench is inside.” She growled, crossing her arms. “This took me a while to make you know!”
“I think you’re insane for staying out here, it’s freezing.” Edward said, slipping his hands back into his pockets.
“Well, it’s worse with automail.” She mused, eyes gliding over landscape. “I think there’s still enough snow.” She added, moving behind the snowman to reach for something.
“For what?” Edward asked, watching her back warily. Winry spun to smirk at him a moment later, holding a tightly packed ball of snow in her hands. Edward brought a defensive arm in front of his face.
“Don’t you dare.” He warned, backing up a pace and assessing his chances of making it back to the house; they didn’t look good.
“Still think I’m a terrible artist?” Winry questioned mockingly, taking a step forward to match his.
“Yes.” Edward replied, never one to back down from a challenge. Then the projectile smashed into his cheek, snow splattering across his face as a sharp stinging sensation hit before ebbing away.
“You’re supposed to throw snow, not rocks!” He yelled, swiping his sleeve across his face as Winry giggled. He growled, glancing around for another plot of snow. “We’ll see who’s laughing when you’ve got a handful of snow shoved down your shirt!” He threatened. Winry squeaked, making a run for it as Edward bent over to gather as much snow as he could fit between his hands. Lifting the colossal mass, he quickly made his way to stand in front of the stairs as he shaped it into a more manageable shape.
“You know, I really think that snowball fights are bellow the dignity of a State Alchemist.” She said, glancing around frantically as he cut off her escape route. Edward snorted in response.
“Shut up.” He replied, taking a menacing step towards her. Winry gulped, eyeing the volume of snow he was toting. She tightened her scarf unconsciously.
“You snow, since I threw a snowball at you, I think that we would be even if you just nailed me with that.” She reasoned.
“Nope.” Edward grinned. She took a tentative step back, and then he was on her. Winry gasped in surprise as she found herself on her back, snow just barely breaking her fall as her head slammed into the ground.
“Ow- hey!” She said indignantly. Edward was smirking above her, one hand pinning her arm to her side while the other held the snow heap above her ominously. “Don’t you think this is a bit much?” She asked acerbically, maneuvering her free hand to grab the more threatening arm. She realized with pang of dread that it was his automail arm; she didn’t have a prayer of overpowering it.
“Eye for an eye, Winry.” He said cheerfully, laughing at her expression. Her hair was fanned out behind her, hat skewed and a faint blush gracing her cheeks from the exertion. Edward tried to push these observations out of his mind before a certain conversation with Lt. Hawkeye could come to mind; he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep her pinned if he was busy reciting the periodical table in order of descending atomic numbers.
Winry seemed to take his momentary distraction as her chance to escape. She began to maneuvered her leg up, ready to knee him if he didn’t move, but Edward deduced her plan and quickly sat on her leg.
“That’s cheating.” He informed her as she glowered up at him.
“THIS is cheating!” She yelled exasperatedly, beginning to thrash around. “You have exactly five seconds to get off me before I scream rape!”
Well, that was a thought.
Moving quickly to immobilize her before she could escape, Edward leaned his head down and kissed her clumsily. He caught the edge of her mouth, mostly landing on her chin, but Winry froze none the less. Edward straightened back up, noting that her scarf had come undone in the struggle as she stared up at him in shock. A blush that had nothing to do with their impromptu wrestling match fanned across her cheeks, Edward felt the same warmth spreading across his.
Then he shoved the snow down her shirt and ran.
Winry screeched behind him, sitting up and attempting to shake it out. Edward laughed as he sprinted for the house, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder. She was already on her feet, looking every bit as angry as he had ever seen her, blush or not.
“Edward Elric I am going to KILL YOU!!” She yelled, streaking after him. Ignoring the odd way her heart was thudding, she concentrated on closing the gap between them. He had already flung open the door and disappeared inside. She followed hot on his trail, not sure if she wanted to throttle him or kiss him, but leaning heavily towards the first.
Alphonse and Pinako arrived home half an hour later, the elderly woman immediately setting down her bags to yell up the stairs as she noticed the puddles littered across the living room floor. The culprits thundered down the stairs moments later, predictably arguing and trying to blame the mess on one another. Pinako effectively shut them both up and pointed them towards the linen closet. Alphonse watched in surprise as Edward’s hand lingered on Winry’s waist a moment before he followed her to the cupboard, noting Winry’s expression brighten at the touch. He resolved to confront his brother about it later as the two bickered quietly about who was responsible for the disarray, wondering a bit apprehensively exactly what had happened in his absence.