#dorktp

It really wasn't much of a coincidence that Winry should run into one of her clients in the Ouroboros Clinic's waiting room. It was one of the best used providers in their network, after all. And it was nice to see Ed again.

Winry had long since lost contact with her grade-school pal, only to reconnect when she’d fitted him with a new prosthetic about a year ago. They'd friended each other on Facebook since then and commented on each other's posts a few times, though Ed wasn't on Facebook all that much. Still, he was just as bold and brainy as Winry had remembered him.

Winry waved him over as he walked into the waiting room. Ed waved back with a casted right arm. Winry was sure the story behind that cast would be entertaining.

“Hey Winry,” he greeted her, with a glance to Winry's baby bump. “Wow, I guess congratulations are in order?”

At six months pregnant, Winry was starting to get tired of that being the first thing people brought up. Still, she tried to be gracious about it. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Is it weird if I touch your belly?” Ed asked as he took the seat next to her. “I mean, if it's okay with you . . .”

“Yeah, here.” She took his uncasted hand and laid it just above her belly button. “It's sweet of you to ask. Most people just grab me.”

“Ugh, people are jerks.” And then, as the baby kicked, “Wow, there's really a baby in there!”

Winry laughed. “You don't say?”

“Sorry, I'm not trying to be a complete dweeb. I just think the whole pregnancy-new-life thing is really cool. Like, there's a whole other person inside you. That you made. It's fucking incredible.”

“Aw.” Winry hadn't been expecting this behavior from Ed of all people. It was refreshing to see such a brash personality gush over the miracle of life. “You’re terrible at convincing me you're not a dweeb.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You got any names for this tiny fucking miracle?”

“I'm still mulling over my options.”

“You should call it something kickass, like Puma or Diesel.”

“Oh god. Promise me you'll never have children, Ed.”

“Never say never.”

“So what's with the cast?” asked Winry.

“Oh yeah. Would you believe I broke my wrist fighting a dragon?”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know those Chinese costumes with like ten people inside it? I thought my brother was hiding in there.”

“So you tried to beat up the whole dragon?”

“Nah, I tried to tackle what I thought were his legs. Which was really kind of stupid, but my impulse control sucks sometimes. So I tripped up the dragon and one of the guys fell on my arm. As far as wrist-breaking stories go, there are definitely more embarrassing ones.”

“I guess so.”

“I'd ask you to sign my cast, but I came here to get it off, so I guess there's not much point.”

It didn't look like there was any room left on the cast to sign it, covered as it was with red and black signatures, doodles, and even a few chemical equations. “Eh,” said Winry. “I already signed your leg anyway.”

“True, true,” Ed said with a laugh.

Winry's doctor was ready to see her before Ed's was to see him. When her checkup was finished, she briefly took a seat to check her email. She had just finished writing a reply to Garfiel when Ed sat next to her.

"Yech," he said. "I hate how gross your skin feels after a cast comes off." He rubbed his right arm.

"Don't pick at it," said Winry. "You'll irritate the skin."

"I'm not. I'm just trying to relax these muscles. It's so stiff."

"Your doctor showed you wrist exercises to build up your strength, right?"

"Yeah. They hurt, though."

She shrugged. "They'll hurt less the more you do them."

He snorted. "You know, for a healthcare provider, you're pretty indifferent to my pain."

"What do I get for kissing every little boo boo?" Winry asked with a smirk. She and Ed both knew that he only liked to whine about the little things. If he were really hurt, he'd pretend he was completely fine. "You're not my client right now."

"You're such a mercenary," Ed grumbled. "So how'd the checkup go?"

"Good," said Winry. "We're both healthy and hitting all the milestones. Doctor Briggs just prescribed me some folic acid."

"Nice," Ed said. "Hey, you wanna get lunch or something? I've got some time to kill before Al comes to pick me up. Doctor Knox says I'm still not good to drive for a few more days."

"You haven't been allowed to drive?" asked Winry. "You must be hating that." He was such an independent person, it had to be driving him crazy.

"You have no idea," Ed groaned. "Public transportation sucks and Al won't let me bend the rules. He hid my car keys!"

Winry laughed. "Sounds like Al."

They ended up going to the Applebee's around the corner. Winry had been eating there more since she got pregnant than she had in her entire life. She'd been craving ribs and Applebee's had a good deal on them.

"Doesn't baby daddy know how to work a grill?" asked Ed. "That's the best way to eat ribs."

Winry shook her head. "Baby daddy's not in the picture."

"Oh. Sorry. That sucks."

She shrugged. "It is what it is."

"I don't need to knock some sense into him, do I?"

"What? No! He's not around because I don't want him to be. I don't need him, and I don't need you to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

Ed raised his palms apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I know you can take care of yourself, Winry. I guess I'm just projecting. You know, since my dad walked out on me."

Winry didn't know the entire situation with Ed's father, but Ed had complained about him so many times over the years that Winry could read between the lines. "Yeah, okay," she said. "Thanks for apologizing."

"Of course. I know I can shoot off my mouth sometimes. That's why I hang around people who call me out on my shit."

And then, because Winry's mind was still on the subject, and it was nice to have another listening ear, she kept talking about her baby's father. "His name's Russell. The dad. We were never serious. When I got pregnant, I figured I was in a good enough place, financially, to keep it. And I always wanted to be a mom. But I didn't want Russell to be a permanent part of my life. He probably would've stepped up if I'd told him about the baby, but I just didn't want to coparent with him. So I broke up with him. He doesn't know about the baby, and I want to keep it that way."

Ed nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

But she could tell he was holding something back. "Whatever it is you're thinking, you should say it."

"You probably don't want to hear it."

"Ed, come on."

"Fine. I'm not saying you have to do things my way, but . . . if it were me, I'd at least want him to know he had a kid."

"I get why you'd say that," said Winry. "I just think it's more trouble than it's worth."

"I guess. Hey, you want to see this picture of Al at Pet Barn?"

Winry welcomed the subject change, and the rest of their lunch passed with little incident. Ed had tried to cut his food himself, only to wince as the muscles in his right hand spasmed. She teased him as she took his knife and fork. "Guess I better get used to doing this now," she said.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, you don't have to make the pieces that tiny. I'm not gonna choke."

It had been nice to catch up with her old friend. They'd only kept in touch peripherally since he'd become her client, and it was nice to confirm that he was still the rough-and-tumble personality she remembered. She also couldn't deny that puberty had been kind to Edward Elric. She tried not to think about that too much, though. Her second trimester was a horrible time to start a new relationship, let alone with a client.

However, they were in touch much more than peripherally now. Ed had started messaging her regularly. He liked taunting her with pictures of well-cooked ribs. She teased him back with reminders that he couldn't drive, and she quickly found more material once he was allowed behind the wheel again.

They'd been messaging for about a week and a half when Ed invited her over for dinner at his place. Winry said yes because she knew Al would be there, so it wouldn't be a date exactly, and anyway she couldn't say no to free ribs. So she knocked on Ed's door that evening with a fresh-baked apple pie in hand.

He opened the door wearing a bright red apron with his hair up in a messy bun. Winry couldn't tell if he was seriously rocking the barbecue chef look or she was just hormonal, but damn did he look good.

"Hey!" he greeted her brightly. "Um, Al had to bail. His girlfriend surprised him with concert tickets."

Double damn. This was starting to turn into an actual date. No, she couldn't read into it more than there was. They were just doing this as friends. He probably didn't find pregnant women attractive anyway. She tried to forget how much he gushed over how cool he thought pregnancy was.

Ed invited her out to the patio, where the grill was. "You should probably keep your distance though," he told her. "I don't think the fumes are good for the baby."

"It's sweet of you to worry," said Winry. She noticed how well he handled the spatula and tongs and said, "Your wrist's looking a lot better."

"Thanks," said Ed. "It still gets sore easy, but at least I can use it." He shut the grill. "Sorry, these are taking longer to cook than I thought. How hungry are you?"

Pretty hungry. Pregnancy had a way of kicking a girl's appetite into gear. "Why don't we switch it up and do dessert first?" Winry suggested, holding up her apple pie.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Ed approved. "That thing smells amazing."

They didn't even bother with plates, just split the pie down the middle and ate right out of the tin. Ed groaned when he took the first bite.

"Holy shit, Winry, that's fantastic. Why didn't you tell me you could bake like this?"

"I'm a woman of many talents," said Winry.

"I'm pretty sure pie isn't allowed to taste this good. Did you make a deal with the devil or something?"

"The only devil I've seen lately is you." The remark was out of her mouth before she could think.

His grin widened. "You think I'm the devil? You haven't even seen my naughty side yet."

Shit, shit, they were totally flirting! She had to deescalate the situation. "I don't think it gets much naughtier than the pillbug incident back in third grade."

Ed laughed. "I totally forgot about that! And you put those bugs down my shirt, too!"

"You looked like you were having a seizure," Winry said, chortling.

Their conversation after that was more friendly than flirtatious. By the time the pie had been reduced to mere crumbs, the meat was finally ready. Ed had always had a large appetite and Winry was not ashamed to match him. They both had room for a couple racks of ribs along with potato salad and coleslaw. When they were done, Winry insisted on helping with the dishes. After a few protests, Ed finally relented.

So far, doing that chore together had been the quietest part of the evening. That is, until Ed cried out and dropped the pie tin back in the sink. "Hand cramp," he explained.

"Lemme see." Winry took his hand and started massaging it. She felt along his wrist for strained muscle and rubbed it too. After a moment she started feeling Ed's eyes on her.

She looked up to see him standing closer than he had before, his flushed face closer to hers than it had ever been. Winry's heart picked up, and so did the baby's kicking. But she didn't notice that so much as she noticed his eyes on her mouth.

Ed leaned in first, and Winry closed the gap. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a kiss like this, soft yet unyielding. Ed's left hand wrapped around her back, drawing circles down her spine. Winry traced her own hand up Ed's right arm and clutched his bicep. When the kiss finished, it took Winry a minute to remember that this was not how she had wanted this dinner to turn out.

Intellectually, anyway. Physically, it was clear her libido had other priorities.

Winry shook her head. She said, "Ed, this is crazy."

Ed's fingers drummed on her back. "Is it?" he asked.

"Yes, Ed, I'm about to have a baby."

"I noticed," he said, his left hand tracing around her waist and resting on her belly.

"Ed!"

"Come on, Winry, babies are awesome. I want to get to know the baby too."

Winry supposed that was a good way to put it. It was far too early for Ed to even consider being a father to the baby. On the other hand, impending motherhood was Winry's main focus and anyone she dated would need to be on board with that. Ed had accepted that he'd be spending time with both her and the baby. But still . . . "You're my client."

"What was it you said? When you didn't care about my pain? I'm not your client right now?"

He wasn't wrong. It had been a year since she'd treated him, so it wasn't an offense she could lose her license over. Still, they were cutting it close.

"If we do this," she said, "and your leg breaks in the next year, you wouldn't be able to go to me. You'd have to go to someone else."

"You said it would last me three years, right? Don't you trust your own work?"

He was such a smart alleck. She wanted to smack him. His smirk was obnoxious and alluring at the same time. She wanted to make out with him. He had such a tender look in his eyes. She wanted to hold him tight and never let go.

Winry said, "You're going to be the death of me, Edward Elric."

Ed said, "Yeah, I get that a lot." Then he kissed her again. This one was more fervid than before. Hands wandered down backsides and lips caressed the most sensitive spots of their faces and necks. Winry was pressed close enough to Ed that she was sure he could feel the baby kicking too.

"I think the dishes just need to soak for awhile," Winry murmured in Ed's ear.

"Hell yeah," he agreed. Then he picked Winry up and carried her to the couch, where they could sink into the supportive cushions and feel as close to each other as they possibly could.

We both climb out of the car, and my grandmother steps out on the front porch to meet us.

“Jeanine! You look so beautiful!” She hugs me and asks, “Who've you brought with you?”

“Grandma, this is Saundra.”

She takes a step away from me and shakes Saundra’s outstretched hand. “It's nice to meet you, dear.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Elric,” Saundra says in her politest voice.

She invites us in for sandwiches and asks about school, which is going fine. So is my internship. She and Grandpa don't really understand the field I'm going into, but she's interested in what I have to say about it all the same.

I'm quick to turn the conversation to Saundra, though, because she's an engineer. She's surprised to know how up to date Grandma is on all the latest research.

“My granny worked every day of her life, and so will I. And my husband and I think that if you're not learning every day, you might as well be dead.” The front door opens, and she says, “Speak of the devil.”

“Sorry I'm late,” Grandpa says. “High school research reports are coming up, and of course they left their books stacked open on top of each other, you’d think they were hired to murder the bindings.”

The Risembool Public Library is Grandpa’s baby. When Risembool became a more established city, he advocated for its creation. Forty years later, he’s still running it.

“Well,” says Grandma, “book mercenaries aside, Jeanine’s here.”

I get up to give him a hug. “It’s so good to see you,” he tells me.

“Good to see you, too, Grandpa.”

He asks, “Who’s your friend?”

Saundra smiles uncomfortably at being called my friend, and I smile back reassuringly. I will set my grandparents straight on what exactly our relationship is . . . once Grandpa gets to know Saundra a bit more.

I tell him, “This is Saundra.”

“She’s an engineer,” Grandma adds.

“Oh no,” says Grandpa. “Poor Jeanine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grandma says testily.

“She’s probably been sitting here for the past half hour, bored to death, while you’re talking shop with Saundra. Good thing I came home to save her.”

Grandma hits him playfully. I say, “It’s never boring listening to Grandma.”

Grandma smiles. “No need to kiss up to me, Jeanine. You already won the award for favorite grandchild.”

“I have to defend my title.”

“So Saundra,” says Grandpa as he sits down with his sandwich, “tell us more about yourself. How does Jeanine know you?”

“I grew up in East City, and I met Jeanine at school.”

“What part of East?”

“By the fire station that used to be an army base.”

Grandpa nods. “It was smart of the city to convert it. That way it actually became useful.”

Saundra seems a little surprised by Grandpa’s politics. “Jeanine said you were a vet.”

“So I have enough experience to know our military hurt more than it helped. Still is hurting, if I’m being honest. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mustang had the old stomping grounds converted in order to hide something. He was always lousy with secret plans.”

Saundra asks, “You knew Fuhrer President Mustang?”

“He was my commanding officer and a major pain in my ass, pardon the language.”

“That’s Ed’s way of saying he misses him,” says Grandma.

“Nonsense. I said that plenty of times when he was alive. To his face, even.”

“They were close.”

“I was close to punching him in the face.”

“May he rest in peace.”

“I’d pay good money to see that.”

Saundra gives me a look that says, Is your grandpa for real? I smile and give a little shrug back.

We start talking about all the other ways East City has changed over the years. Which are the “good” and “bad” parts of town, what the popular restaurants are, the coffee shop chain that’s popping up all over the place.

“Jeanine and I like the local-run place by our apartment best,” Saundra says. “We go there all the time.”

“I didn’t know you two were roommates,” says Grandma.

Saundra looks at me, and I take a deep breath. “Actually, roommates isn’t the best way to put it,” I say. “Saundra’s my girlfriend.”

“That’s great!” says Grandma. “Congratulations!”

“That's nice,” says Grandpa. “Real nice.”

Grandma elbows him. “Ed! Is that all you have to say?”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“Congratulate them!”

“You already did!”

“She wants to hear it from you! She wants to know you approve!”

“If I approve?” Grandpa’s eyebrows rise, and probably his blood pressure as well. He turns to me and says, “Jeanine, you're a grown woman. You don't need approval from some old fogey like me. Your grandma may call me obtuse, but I can read in between the lines. You've been nervous about introducing us to this Saundra, who seems great to me, but even if I didn't like her I'd support you one hundred percent. Or at least eighty-five percent, if she really seemed terrible.”

“Ed!”

“Kidding! I'm kidding!” Once Grandma seems placated, he continues, “But really, Jeanine. You've been acting like you’re scared of what we might think, and frankly I find that insulting. I thought you trusted us better than that.”

“Grandpa, it's not that I don't trust you . . .”

“We just didn’t know whether you’d be comfortable with the idea of two girls being together,” Saundra says.

Grandma and Grandpa share a look. Grandma says, “We must not be doing our job right if you think we might not accept you or anyone you love. We should have made it clear that we’re more than comfortable with two people of any gender loving each other. Did your mother never tell you about me and Paninya?”

“Your friend from Rush Valley? What about h- ohhh. You were together?”

Grandma looks a little wistful. “She was my first kiss. And she was a wonderful girlfriend, though it didn't last.”

“What happened?”

“We were teenagers. You know how young people can go through relationships. We both moved on, but stayed close friends.”

“Wow,” I say. “I can't believe I didn't know you had a lesbian phase.”

Grandma's smile freezes in place. “It wasn't a phase. I'm attracted to both women and men. The fact that I chose to spend my life with your grandfather doesn't change that.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean . . .”

“I know you didn't, sweetie,” says Grandma. “A lot of people get confused. But it's a lot simpler than they think.”

Ed was tired of going to these things. He’d done his time at plenty of dinner parties when he was a state alchemist, and they were still boring as hell. The only good thing about them was the wine they served, which made tuning out the awful conversations so much easier.

Even so, he never could escape the odd question about his state alchemist days, and with Winry off chatting up some charity fundraisers tonight, he had to field this group of investors on his own. When they asked what he was currently working on, he answered, “I still do my own research. But mostly I help take care of my kids. Keep them from burning the house down.”

Ed wasn’t expecting them to laugh out loud or anything, but raised eyebrows weren’t the most appropriate for his tongue-in-cheek comment, either.  “Isn’t that your wife’s job?” asked a guy with thinning hair. Ed couldn’t remember his name.

“No, it’s both our jobs.” Ed sighed. The last thing he wanted was to get into this. Couldn’t he talk about his job without getting these kinds of reactions?

“But you were such a brilliant state alchemist. Couldn’t you be putting your talents to better use?”

Okay, fuck not getting into it. There was no way he was letting such a stupid comment slide. “You know what? No. I couldn’t be. Good parents contribute a hell of a lot more to society than state alchemists ever did. Don’t knock my kids.”

Baldy blanched. “I wasn’t trying to – I just thought, well, your wife –“

“Okay, fine. You want to talk about her job? As an automail engineer? And a surgeon? You want to talk about how she gives people their limbs back? Because that’s pretty fucking amazing. And – news flash! – that takes a lot of time and energy. What kind of asshole would I be if I left all of that and everything at home to her?

“And you know what else? Even if she didn’t do any other work, I’d still help out around the house. Because raising a family is a shitload of work, and it’s not like your nine-to-five job where you can clock out and leave all the stress at work. You’re always on the job. And you think leaving all that to your wife is fair just because you spend eight hours a day shuffling papers or whatever the hell you do?"

Baldy said, "I'm an independent contractor. And I usually put in about twelve-hour days."

"Oh, for - you expect me to act all impressed just because you pull a few extra hours every day when I just said that a full-time job comes nowhere close to being a full-time parent in time commitment alone? Are the requirements for independent contracting being a damn fool idiot?"

"Hey man, lay off," a guy with glasses butted in. "He was just asking an honest question." 

"An honestly stupid question. Which I’m sick of hearing from stuffed shirts like all of you.” 

At that point Ed realized he’d been speaking rather loudly, because other groups had halted their conversations to give him odd looks. He didn’t really want to make a scene, and - shit, Winry was heading this way, looking none too pleased. He excused himself with a hasty “anyway, good night” and went to head Winry off, ignoring the eyes on his back.

“Ed,” she said when they met, “can’t I leave you alone for just five minutes?”

“That was longer than five minutes,” Ed hissed back. “More like twenty, at least.”

Winry rolled her eyes. “I suppose you want to leave now?”

“Please.”

She took his hand. “You’re just lucky Director Fills agreed to fund the program tonight. Her lawyer should be calling within the week - we’ll have to remind the kids about proper phone etiquette.”

Ed nodded. “So it’s on, then? You’ll be able to give all those kids automail?”

“Yep,” said Winry, her face lighting up. “I should be able to get started in a couple months.”

“That’s great! I knew you’d find a way to do it.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Aw, c’mon, Winry, you know this stuff is bullshit. I wouldn’t put up with it for anyone else.” 

Winry sighed. “I know it’s hard for you. Thanks for supporting me.”