­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the property of Hiromu Arakawa.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

"I'm starving!" Ed declared the second he stepped foot into the kitchen. Now Ed bemoaning the state of his empty stomach was really nothing unusual. This scene was, in fact, something to be expected. And if Winry was honest with herself, it was actually one of those weird things she missed when the boys were gone. She smiled secretly before turning from her place at the stove. Then she rolled her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

"You're always starving, Edward. You do realize you were snacking only like an hour ago."

He flashed her a big grin. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy." The grin dropped as soon as he realized he left the perfect opening for her. His eyes narrowed in warning. "Don't you dare say it."

Winry smiled wickedly. Sometimes it was too easy. "Say what, Ed?" she teased. "That you're more likely to-"

"Winry!"

She spared an unimpressed glance at the automail finger that was suddenly in her face.

"May I say it's not a good idea to bite the hand that feeds you?" she asked sweetly. Ed looked like she had just dealt him a low blow but seemed to consider her words all the same before turning his attention to the large pot on the stove. Winry couldn't help but notice how his shoulder brushed against hers in his effort to get closer. To the food she told herself. He's trying to get closer to the food.

"So is this dinner?" Ed asked. All offence to her unspoken short joke was evidently forgotten. "It smells really good."

"Uh, thanks. Yeah it is." Winry briefly wondered if her cheeks were flushing from cooking steam or from the sudden compliment. Not like it really mattered, she decided. Ed probably didn't even notice anyway. In an effort to ignore her discomfiture, Winry dipped a teaspoon into the bubbling broth and sampled it. Ed tracked her movements hungrily.

He leaned over the pot and peered at the contents. "Stew?"

"Mm hmm. It's a new recipe I'm trying. It's supposed to be Ishbalan."

"Oh yeah? So what's in it?" he asked.

"Um, let's see. There's tomato, onion, stew meat, a whole bunch of different peppers," Winry paused in her recitation to give her companion a sidelong glance. "And apparently your drool."

"Ah, yes. Elric drool, the secret ingredient to a truly great dish," nodded Ed, completely undeterred from his inspection. " It's coveted by all the top chefs, you know. You're lucky you get it for free." He gave an exaggerated wink like he was really doing her a favor.

"Yes," she responded dryly. "Aren't I just." Winry moved to add a dash more salt but was hindered by Ed's hovering. "Will you back up?!" She picked up a wooden spoon from off of the counter and began brandishing it at him. "My god, Ed; you're like a vulture."

Though he crossed his arms defensively, he took a step away from the stove. "Am not," he asserted. "You're just overprotective of your creations."

Winry's lips pursed reflexively. She was pretty sure he was alluding to her automail. However, before she had a chance to whack him with the spoon, Ed asked, "So when do we get to eat?"

"Now I guess. Granny called a bit ago saying she was going to be late and to start without her. Go get some bowls and spoons, will you?"

"I'm on it." As he walked over to the cupboard he shouted through the doorway, "Hey Alphonse! Me an' Winry are eating. You gonna join us?" There was a moment of silence then a dull creak of metal.

"In a little, Brother. I'd like to finish my chapter first."

"Alright."

When Ed had finished setting the table, he brought two bowls over to the stove and held his out expectantly. Winry had to smirk at his eagerness.

"Now this stew is really pretty hot so be careful," she cautioned as she finished ladling it out. Ed pulled an annoyed face and moved to go sit at the table.

"Alright, alright, mom," he grumped. "I'll be sure to blow on it first."

Winry snorted at that and turned back to the stove. As if Ed would actually take the time to let his food cool before he devoured it... She paused, halting the ladle in its path from her dinner bowl back to the stew pot.

Oh. Crap.

Winry whipped around, not caring about the arc of broth that trailed along behind her. "No, wait! Ed, that's not what I meant by….hot," she finished lamely as she realized her warning came too late. Ed, in the way that only seemed possible for him, had already eaten a large portion of his dinner. Winry resisted the urge to run her free hand over her panicked face.

Not good. Oh, this is so not good.

"Huh?" Ed blinked curiously at her. He had eaten so quickly the consequence of his hasty consumption hadn't yet registered. But Winry didn't know that. In that brief, beautiful moment of uncertainty she dared to hope the name Fullmetal extended to include an iron clad stomach.

He likes to eat, Winry rationalized. That's an understatement, really; Ed eats a lot. So maybe in all of his travels he's become accustomed to spicy foods. It's totally possible. This might not even faze him…

Edward's spoon suddenly went slack in his left hand as he realized what exactly Winry had meant by 'hot.'

…Or not, she sighed mentally.

The warm heat in Ed's throat begin to intensify violently, the fire licking up his esophagus to ignite his tongue and threatening to burn off the roof of his mouth. Winry cringed for him when she saw his eyes fill with water and beads of perspiration form on his forehead.

"Ed?" she ventured cautiously.

He gave a strangled cough before latching onto his glass of water and draining it in no time flat. "Hot," he wheezed.

"Ed?"

"Yeeah?" he returned as he cast around blindly for something, anything, more to drink.

"You okay?" He shot her an incredulous look. Alright, she'd give him that one. It was a stupid question. "Uh, hang on," Winry tried again. "I know of something that is supposed to help." The expression on Ed's face was one of utter gratitude. It almost made her feel guilty for what she was about to do. Well, almost. The solution was just so fitting on so many levels.

Ed's eyes widened in abject horror at the glass she held in her hand. "You're kidding, right?"

Winry gave a solemn shake of her head. "Nope." She set the glass on the table with a definitive clack. He instinctively leaned away from it.

The series of expressions that passed over Ed's face spoke volumes: There was no fricken way his salvation could be a big glass of bovine udder secretion; It had to be some elaborate plot to make him drink milk; He had no idea Winry could play so dirty. Ed glared at the offensive fluid. "I'll stick with water," he said sourly.

"Water will only spread the oil from the peppers."

Ed defiantly shook his head. He wasn't having any of it. The legs of his chair scraped obstinately against the ground as he stood to go to the sink.

"It's not going to help." Winry was starting to get irritated. Honestly! Would that boy ever just listen?

He narrowed eyes at her. "I know what you're trying to do."

Winry fingered the wrench in her side pocket, ready to wield it if he got too unreasonable. "Honestly, Ed. Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

That's what it was going to come down to, trust. Did Ed trust in her enough to drink the milk? He certainly didn't when she said it would make him grow. But then again, maybe short didn't burn as much as capsaicin or not as urgently.

Ed eyed the tap one last time and then sat back down. He turned a questioning gaze on her and swallowed uncomfortably. "This helps, right? You're not just messing with me?"

"I've tried it myself. I thought it worked."

He nodded and frowned at the glass of opaque liquid as if daring it to try something funny. With a deep breath, he grabbed the glass and raised it to his lips. "You better make me taller too," she heard him mutter before throwing his head back. About half the milk was gone by the time his gag reflex kicked in. He looked a little sick but soon started poking around at his stew again. Winry wasn't too worried. "Do you feel better?" she asked.

There was a pause as Ed thought about it. "Yeah. I guess so."

"Do you want some mo-"

"NO! Thanks. I think I'll live."

Winry studied her dinner and then looked back up at Ed. She noticed he was taking much smaller and much slower bites. "You know, there are quite a few lessons to be learned from all of this," she remarked sagely.

"Whatever," Ed bit out. "You probably got some sick satisfaction out of making me drink milk."

"The milk was not for my benefit!" He was partially right in is accusation, but how dare he think that! "If you would just take the time to…"

Ed's spoon clattered loudly against the table. "I am nearly burned alive from the inside out, I'm practically poisoned by the 'cure,' and now I get a lecture?! How about we round out this fabulous exercise in pain with an unnecessary automail reattachment!"

"That can be arranged, Bean Boy!"

The two glared at each other for a long minute. At some point during the standoff Winry thought she heard Al come into the kitchen and tip toe back out in that impossibly quiet way of his.

Finally, Winry broke the silence. "Oh, Ed, you poor, poor dear." Her voice was laced with as much sarcasm she could muster. "You have been through a lot, haven't you? Do you want me to kiss it and make everything all better?"

Oh, god. She did not just say that. Winry schooled her features, not willing to give anything away. She chanced a look at the boy across the table for his reaction.

Ed looked a little stunned.

Okay, yes. Yes she did. Well, hell. Winry wasn't even really sure what the 'it' she offered to kiss was. She hoped Ed would just pass it off as some motherly phrase and not some subconscious slip of the tongue. Was it a subconscious slip of the tongue? Probably. Alright, fine, it wasn't all that subconscious.

She noticed Ed was still fumbling for a response, and this time it was his face that was flushed. That was when Winry decided she really didn't care she'd let something slip. Instead, she turned her attention back to her stew and smiled inwardly.

I'll just let the idiot sweat it out for a bit. It's about time he finally noticed something.

As for Ed, he found himself become rather hot for the second time since walking into the kitchen.