#eye.......

💙 for a spiderman kiss!!

an all-night barbecue. a dance on delta sigma’s lawn. 

it’s how winry wishes to celebrate the spring solstice: among her ragtag group of friends and former sorority sisters. it’s nice, vy admits, even if they have to snub the repulsed glances being sent their way, even if their eyes have since grown sore of floral print and north face jackets and ( knock-off ) birkenstocks. 

they’re content playing the part of a spectator, sidelined atop a too tall tree with a forkful of roast beef in their mouth. vy is so used to ‘ doing ’ that they forget to observe what is ‘ being done ’ around them. it’s a refreshing change of pace, they figure. utensil in hand, they jab at the last morsel of meat on their plate and guide it to their mouth. a jarring, girlish giggle causes their attention to relocate to the grassy field below them, in search of its source.

mar, tipsy off the white claw in her hand. her other arm is draped over the shoulders of a flustered alphonse elric. he’s holding her like she’s a christmas ornament—a fine, fragile thing—but all in all, they’re all smiles swaying to the verse of a lord huron song. 

vy’s lips trill into an approving hum before their gaze travels left toward the punch bowl. ryuko is boredly conversing with a lanky boy who reeks of “ computer science ” major, but in all the worst ways. then, standing beside them is the hostess herself, long blonde hair fastened into a tight, curly bun. she’s offering some guy a small, slender bottle, which he accepts with a laugh. another girl approaches them and envelops their newfound trio in a group hug. 

with her chin conveniently sat atop the guy’s shoulder, winry spots vy from their tree branch refuge. one hand slips out of the embrace to offer them a wave. they fire back with a middle finger, paired with a smirk. she mockingly pouts before her attention is stolen away, this time by a backwards-cap-wearing frat boy. his raspy, raucous voice dares “ fletcher, ” whoever the hell that is, to shotgun a beer. a chorus of “ do it ” ‘s fills the air, and with a shake of the head, vy’s eyeline travels to the steel gate bordering the sorority house.

coincidentally enough, that’s when a figure, short and slumped, emerges from a departing vehicle. recognition is quick to strike vy as edward elric, man of the ( late ) hour, punches in the gate’s code with one hand and balances a tray with the other.

“ well, well. look who decided to finally show! ” even from their looming position, vy’s voice is audible enough to grab ed’s attention. he pauses just below where their branch dangles, neck craning upward to behold them.

“ shove it! ” begins ed’s retort. “ god, i swear i’m gonna chuck this at you— ” he menacingly brandishes the tray in his hold. oh shit, it’s a fruit pie. “ —can you really blame my broke ass for wanting to work more hours? ”

vy feigns contemplation, an overdrawn “ hmmmm ” coloring their breath. “ yes, ” marks their decision, after a few beats. “ yes, i can. ” they carefully shift their stance into something more lax—belly down on the branch, long legs kicking to and fro. “ but perhaps you can make it up to me by, i don’t know, letting me have first dibs on that pie. ” they raise their empty plate and whack it with their fork, as if it were a gong.

“ whatever, whatever, ” ed answers with an eye roll. “ but i’m only feeding you if you come down. ‘ tarzan ’ ‘s not really my style, and it hurts like hell talking to you like this. ” he guides a hand to the nape of his neck and rubs, as if to emphasize his latter point.

shoulders rolling into a shrug, vy obeys. they lithely settle onto a lower tree branch, now only two feet above the other. “ how about this? ”

“ ground floor. ” and before they can protest, ed continues with, “ and no, idiot, i’m not spoon-feeding you on my tiptoes. ”

an almost comical frown tugs at vy’s lips. they pelt ed with their plasticware ( which he narrowly dodges ) in retaliation. “ that’s no fun. ”

“ sounds like a personal problem. ”

“ you’re a personal problem! ”

ed musters a snort, one hand resting on a hip. “ nice dig. what’re you? four? ”

“ yeah. goo goo fucking ga ga, ” vy mocks. “ anyway, hold still. i want to try something. ” ed can’t help lift a quizzical brow as he watches them amend their position. 

when they victoriously announce that they are “ done ”, all ed can think about is bats. batman or spiderman? the upper half of vy’s body is airborne, long tendrils of hair a web he could get very easily tangled in. only the backs of their knees and white-knuckled grip on the branch are keeping them steady.

“ congrats, ” ed commends flatly. still, he can’t help but draw nearer to them, inwardly wondering how long they would be able to hold that pose. he exhales a mischievous snicker as one hand lifts to flick the bridge of their nose.

“ hey, wha— ” in a flash, vy has relinquished one grip in favor of seizing ed’s wrist. he can barely register the smirk illumining their face before he’s brusquely yanked closer. 

something soft and wet and like roast beef closes over his lips, and—oh. ohhhhh.

vy is kissing him upside-down?

ultimately, want triumphs over bewilderment. the fruit pie ed had been holding onto plummets to the ground as that hand is instead used to cup vy’s face. kissing like this is weird—very movie-like and admittedly somewhat misplaced, but neither of them had any qualms thus far, aside from the desire to get closer.

so, that’s what they do, as ed’s hand opts to guide vy’s chin toward him and vy’s grip on ed’s wrist beckons him forward. 

the pair would have been successful, too...had vy remembered that, damn, i’m hanging by a thread on a fucking tree branch, and noticed that, damn, my other hand is starting to cramp the hell up.

had that foresight been taken into account, vy wouldn’t have succumbed to their lust-tinged lethargy and fallen on top of ed. the commotion is enough to capture the other guests’ attention. innumerable pairs ears slowly tune into a garbled orchestra of groans and profanity. likewise, innumerable pairs of eyes curiously peer over to identify its origin—a tangle of limbs, a fractured tree branch.

only one onlooker has the audacity to investigate. gait weary, albeit purposeful, this onlooker carries themselves over to where vy, ed, and their tree branch lay.

“ i shouldn’t have invited the two of you. ” 

vy and ed groan in unison. again, again. not again.

we’re sorry, winry.