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Aerugo is far too hot for Ed, and he's travelled all the way to Xing through the desert three times. Yes, it was hotter and the switch in temperature that came with night was hard on his automail, but at least it was dry. Aerugo is humid and tropical and not even the darkness can subdue the goddamned mosquitoes.
He rubs the sweat off his palms on his pants. The vendor in front of him smiles knowingly at the gesture as he wraps his purchase in kraft paper.
"Fret not, young man, it's common to be nervous about this sort of thing," he advises. "I'm sure you will do wonderfully."
"I'm not nervous," Ed grumbles.
"They all say that, yet they all are."
"I guess I'm not part of that all."
"Why are you sweating then?"
"Because it's hot as an oven here!"
"Come on." The vendor's eyes glint. "I've lived here my entire life and I've seen my fair share of sweat. That, my boy, is not due to the heat."
He implodes to avoid going red. "Just give me the damn thing!"
The man shakes his head, laughing under his breath, and hands him the makeshift bag. "Good luck, son."
"Yeah, whatever."
Ed begins the walk back to the train station with his head hung low. The detour had not been planned. He'd just seen it out of the corner of his eye and bought it on impulse. Just what the hell was he thinking? There's no way he's going to actually pull through with this. He's throwing away his not-so-hard-earned money. Al would laugh at him so much if he ever found out about this.
The whistle blows barely a second after he flops down on the seat of his compartment. Soon, open fields and crops replace the city buildings. The train slides over the rails smoothly, and he gives himself a second to admire its technological wonders. He has half a mind to pull out his notes and try to sketch how he pictures the engine, but when he slips his hand in his pocket, he touches the paper bag and it distracts him again.
He really, really fucked up.
At the very least he should think about what he would say, right? Wrong. He isn't going to say anything, there's nothing to think about. He'll make sure she never even knows the bag exists. But in the case he did say something, what would he say?
"Dear Winry," he says to the empty compartment before slapping a hand over his mouth.
Who is he even talking to?!
Dear Winry. No, that's too cheesy and unnatural. It needs to sound less practiced. But it also has to sound like he poured his heart and soul into it. He snorts. Like he would ever not give her his best.
Half his life. All of it. He had only asked for half of hers, but truth is, he would have given it to her in its entirety: he only offered half because he didn't dare ask for more than half of hers. That's how Equivalent Exchange works. Of course she'd gone and turned his world upside down, reminded him that he wasn't an alchemist anymore and he didn't need that dumb rule anymore. It had never applied to love and it won't start applying now.
Love.
Well, damn.
Winry. Is that too dry? Beautiful Winry. Again with the cheese and it also implies physical appearance is of utmost importance. It isn't. Not that she isn't beautiful, but better to be safe than sorry. Brilliant Winry. She is brilliant. It's a good compliment. She's always liked compliments to her brain more than compliments to the attributes she had no control over. But it sounds stiff and a bit pretentious. He'll have to make do with just Winry.
Winry, I… He what? He knows what he wants to say, but maybe leading with himself isn't the best idea. Winry, you are… So many things, he would never be able to say them all in a reasonable amount of time.
Winry, you said you'd give me all of your life. Even though you tried to take it back, I don't think you meant it. I'm here, on one knee, ruining my best pair of pants— a little humor never hurt anybody— to ask you if you intend on keeping that promise.
Is that what it had been? A promise? Had she promised her life to him? Or had she just offered? Maybe the goodbye just got her nostalgic and sentimental. This is horrible, he is so not saying anything.
Winry, you helped me stand. I tried to take everything on my own because that's what I thought I was supposed to do, but you showed me support is never a bad thing. You gave me a leg. You helped me move on. I could have done nothing without you.
There he goes, babbling about himself again. Can't he even get a metaphorical speech right? Colonel —he's been ascended to Major General in real life, but not in his heart— Bastard has a way with words. Could he help him? Wait, no. Absolutely not. Their begrudging friendship, because that's what it was, as little as he likes it, is not there yet. Also, he would be even more cruel and mocking than Al. Hawkeye? He wouldn't want to bother her, heavens know she has more than enough with her own incompetent little man's mishaps to have to take care of another's. How did she handle all of them back then? Truly an extraordinary woman.
Ah, what a mess. How he wishes that, when the time actually comes, his words would not fall from his mouth in muttered waterfalls..
He falls asleep with Winry's name on his lips.
The whistle wakes him up. He squirms in his groggy state and a familiar, dull ache shoots up his knee. He rubs his eyes and sees the window covered in delicate droplets. Rain. Just his luck.
He jumps off the train. It's barely drizzling, and the water is refreshingly cold against his skin. Even though leaving Aerugo didn't help him escape the humidity, at least the heat problem is solved. Deciding he'd better get going before the weather worsens, he starts walking home.
The road hasn't grown muddy yet, but tiny puddles are already forming, so he presses forward. Granny would not take kindly to him dirtying her floors.
When the Rockbell household appears in sight, he stops dead in his tracks. Through the windows, he sees a beautiful silhouette he knows all too well swaying on a chair and it knocks the wind out his lungs. Suddenly he's too aware of the way rain splatters his nose, his skin grows hot and his clothes don't fit in all the wrong places. He fishes for the paper back in his pocket. It weighs on his hand too much to be such a tiny object. He unwraps it and carelessly puts away the bag.
Dear Winry.
The ring is as simple as they come: a silver band that twists irregularly, one end shaped like a wrench above another that looks like a nut with a sapphire in the center. He gulps. It's so silly. How come he chose this for something like this? Raindrops shimmer on top of the gem.
Dear Winry. I love—
His feet refuse to move forward. The light shower turns into a storm. The sky rumbles.
Dear Winry, would you—
He blinks and finds himself drenched. Cursing, he runs all the way to the porch, the ring held so tightly in his fist it begins to dig into his palm.
Dear Winry. All my life for all of yours.
His suitcase clatters to the ground as he leans forward on his knees to catch his breath. He gasps desperately and straightens his back.
Dear Winry.
He can't knock.
Dear Winry.
He doesn't dare.
Dear Winry.
He urges himself to knock and hide the ring before they open.
Dear Winry. Dear Winry. Dear Winry, please.
"Ah, Den's not here," Pinako growls from inside. "Child, go see if she's in the front somewhere. All this water can't be good for her leg."
"Sure thing, Granny."
Dear—
Footsteps approach the door quickly. Ed inhales sharply. He has to hide it now.
Dear. Loved. Precious Winry.
When she opens the door, his legs buckle. Winry's eyes widen like moons when she sees him on one knee in front of her under the rain.
"Ed? What are you doing here? Weren't you in Aeru—"
"Marry me."
Well, that came out very flowery.
"What?" She asks faintly.
He lifts the ring to her face. She gets cross-eyed trying to look at it, but when she finally understands what it is, her entire face turns redder than it did that day in the train station.
"What?" She repeats. "Ed, what are you doing?"
"I'm sorry," he apologizes before he can stop himself, and it's a really bad move to apologize right after proposing but this is very hard and he's trying his best. "I didn't mean— I, uh, fuck. Um." He pushes the wet strands out of his face. "Marry me. Shit, no. Actually, can you give me a minute? I didn't plan this at all."
"It shows." She overcomes the initial shock and breaks out a smile. "Don't you want to come inside while you think?"
"No. The water washes off the embarrassment."
"Dork."
"Insult me again and I'll drag you out here with me," he warns her.
It's her irrepressible grin, her flushed cheeks, and the joy in her eyes that convinces him that he will do so anyway, because he knows her answer already.
She snaps her fingers impatiently. "Focus, you got a job to do."
"You're not making this any easier," he gripes, but he clears his throat. "Winry. No, wait. Dear Winry."
"Make up your mind."
"Seriously, do you ever shut up?" He really tries to sound upset, but laughter cuts up his voice into tiny pieces. "Do you want to get proposed to correctly or not?"
"Okay, okay, my bad," she crosses her arms over her stomach. "Go on."
"Dear Winry," he starts before pausing again. Nothing he had come up with in the train feels quite right. Heartfelt honesty would have to do. "I have loved you all my life. You probably knew, I probably didn't, and it took me a shameful amount of time to notice it. But I'm glad it happened the way it did, because—" He licks his lips. "Because it led me here, to this point in time when I can ask you to let me love you for the rest of our lives."
Thunder roars above their heads but they pay it no mind. Winry bites the inside of her cheek as tears begin to pool in her eyes.
"You are my best friend and my heart and everything that's okay in this world. You took me by surprise and chose to help me when I didn't deserve it and to stick with me when I proved to be nothing but trouble for you."
She lets out a choked chuckle. "I mean, you were our best client."
"And you talk a lot and too much sometimes," he adds purposefully. She shakes her head in amusement. "But I want to hear you. Every day, everything you have to say, I want to be there for it. I want to be there for you like you were there for me and I want your midnights and your mornings and the entire life you offered me the other day. Are you willing to give me that? Because if you are, I'm sorry I can't pay you back in kind, because my life isn't worth half of yours but if you want it, you can have it."
"I do." She reaches for his outstretched hand and covers it with her own. "I want it."
"Marry me, then."
"You know, when they say pop the question , it's supposed to be a question," she comments, "not an instruction."
"It's a proposal, that's how it works!" He complains. "I'm proposing a course of action!"
"You're making it sound so formal!"
"Would you rather I were vulgar? I can be very vulgar, look: Winry, apple pie of my eye—"
"God, Ed," she laughs. "I love you so much."
Even under the storm, fire blazes in his chest. "Enough to marry me?"
"More than enough."
"All of my life for all of yours?"
"I like that deal."
He turns her hand around and pushes the ring onto her finger. At the sight of the band on her pale skin, his dam finally breaks and he starts sobbing. She quickly follows suit. Pushing himself off the ground, he grasps her waist and pulls her into his chest. He made her cry again, and this time, he couldn't be prouder.
When he pulls away, she's completely soaked as well. He snickers. She looks kinda stupid with her hair stuck to her face down to her eyebrows, so he combs through her bangs with his fingers.
"Yes, very cute, but are you going to kiss me or not?" She whines.
"Hey, I already proposed, it's your time to initiate."
"You're such a headache."
And cradling his nape, she pulls him lower and presses her lips against his. Oh, how he wishes he had gotten his shit together earlier, if only to have kissed her before. He wraps one arm over her shoulders and the other around her middle. The fabric of her clothes feels familiar. Is that his hoodie she's wearing? Again? He smiles into her mouth.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"What on Earth?"
Pinako's question breaks them apart. She drops the kitchen spoon when her eyes land on Winry's hand. Immediately, she starts cackling maniacally.
"Ah, the children, always so unexpected!" She slaps her own knee. "Alphonse needs to hear this right now."
"No, granny, wait—"
"Old hag, don't make me come and get you!"
He tries to run inside the house after her, but Winry holds him in place. When he raises a questioning eyebrow, she just shrugs.
"Al is gonna find out either way."
"Well, yeah, but she's probably going to make me sound lame."
"You are lame."
"How loving a wife-to-be you are."
"You chose to ask me to marry you, never forget that."
"Yeah, I won't," he reassures her before kissing her again.