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“There’s blood in your hair.”
It was a simple statement, an indisputable fact that Edward didn’t even have the energy to jokingly argue with. A statement that made sense for him to be concerned about, but ultimately, he couldn’t bring up the energy to be too worried. He was bloodied, bruised, and scraped up and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was blood in his hair. There was probably blood in his boots if he was being honest, he wouldn’t be surprised.
It was probably his blood, most likely his blood, but you could never always be sure. And Winry was looking at him with thinly veiled concern, her eyebrows furrowed tightly as she stood her ground, screwdriver still in hand.
Edward had returned to the hotel a little over half an hour ago from a mission tracking down a rogue alchemist. And In that time, it was long enough for Winry—who had traveled here for an emergency repair visit—to fuss over his automail and scold him thoroughly for being careless… again.
And by this point, Edward figured her lecture was done. She had sat him down on the couch and had been messing with his arm for who knows how long, tightening screws and tapping on different places to make sure it was functioning how it should be. A few minutes were spent examining his leg as well, fussing over some loose screws and telling him to be more careful.
Edward was exhausted, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and fall asleep for the rest of the night. But Winry was persistent. She pasted bandages on cuts that were barely bleeding and had clotted over on their own. And an ice pack was placed on a particularly nasty bruise on his left cheek. Even with the ice pack, it would certainly still be there in the morning.
By the time she was finished with all that, Edward assumed that was when she noticed the splatters of blood that had soaked into his hair. He could feel it there, the way it caused strands to clump together and weigh heavier, and he could feel the wetness from where it still slowly dripped.
“There’s blood in your hair,” Winry said again when Edward gave no response the first time. He simply heaved a sigh and hummed from the back of his throat.
“I can deal with it in the morning,” he said tiredly, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulder popped. Winry, who had been standing behind him, ducked away before he could hit her in the head with his automail arm.
Winry was silent for a long time and Edward could practically hear the gears in her head moving as he stood up slowly. His hip was sore from getting smashed against a wall and he let out a slow breath. He was exhausted. He didn’t even have the energy to eat something even though he knew he probably needed it.
“Let me wash your hair,” Winry said after a few moments, causing Edward to turn around quickly, his leg clicking as he did so. He furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth to say something but Winry cut him off.
“You used to let Granny wash your hair when we were kids,” Winry insisted, “let me take care of you.”
“That was when we were kids,” Edward took a step back, turning away so he didn’t have to see Winry’s expression, “I don’t need someone to wash my hair.”
“Then do it yourself. I don’t want you sleeping with blood in your hair,” Winry crossed her arms in front of her chest with a huff, tilting her chin up towards the ceiling. Edward frowned with a huff.
“I, however, don’t care. I’m tired and would rather be left alone so I can sleep.” Edward figured that by this point, he should be turning around and walking towards the bedroom. But his legs refused to move, locking him in place and refusing to let him walk out on this conversation. He cursed the exhaustion.
“Edward…” Winry’s tone was soft and sounded too much like she was approaching a startled animal. Edward hated when she looked at him with that amount of softness, it made him feel small. Smaller than he already was.
“Fine,” he grumbled, quiet enough that she could barely hear it. His face erupted in a deep blush as he avoided looking at her. Winry smiled with a small laugh, clapping her hands together gently.
He told himself that the only reason he agreed so quickly was because he was too tired to argue. Both of them were stubborn but one of them had done significantly more fighting earlier in the day to elicit this exhaustion.
So that’s how Edward ended up sitting on the bottom of the shower in only his underwear while Winry sat behind him on an overturned bucket. Goosebumps prickled against his skin as the tile underneath him caused him to shiver. Edward’s hair ran down his back in gross, sticky strands as Winry had taken the time to gently pull it out of the braid a few minutes earlier. Her hands already had blood on them and Edward found himself feeling guilty over it.
Winry held the shower head in one hand, spraying it on the ground for a few seconds as the water warmed up before she ran it over Edward's head with little warning. He spluttered for a second, an insult dying on his tongue as the warm water admittedly felt quite nice. Another shiver ran down his spine and he let out a slow breath, fingers twitching in his lap.
She placed her palm on the top of his head, rinsing as much blood out of his hair as she could for now. Her hands were cold and if Edward was less tired than he was, he might’ve even commented on that. It probably would’ve earned him a smack to the back of the head but it would’ve been better than the silence that fell between the two of them.
Winry moved the stream of water away, squeezing out a small bit of shampoo into her hands before moving to scrub at Edward’s hair. She lathered the golden strands in soap, hands rough and calloused but gentle nonetheless. It seemed as if she was trying to avoid tugging on knots too hard which Edward appreciated.
Edward let his eyes slip shut for a second as Winry ran her fingers through his hair, scrubbing out the stubborn blood that still tried to cling on. The touch practically sent sparks of electricity over his skin and Edward did his best not to shiver. The water made him a bit warmer, at least compared to the previous chill of the small hotel bathroom.
She was being so gentle, treating Edward with a type of softness that Winry never usually showed him. Usually, she was pretty rough, she got irritated easily and Edward wasn’t much help for her mood. He usually egged her on with petty insults or just being careless with his automail. She would yell at him and scold him until she figured he got the message and then would simmer down and spend the rest of the repair visit mostly silent. But sometimes she asked questions about what happened, often she asked questions about what happened. Questions that Edward usually left unanswered.
But the way that Winry ran the stream of warm water over his head and lifted his hair enough to run her fingers through it to rinse the soap out. The way she tucked his bangs away from his face and pulled the tangles out while doing her best not to tug too hard. The way that Winry was treating him like a stuffed toy that was falling apart at the seams. It made him want to sob.
He didn’t deserve this and Winry had to have known that. He didn’t deserve the kindness that she was currently showing him or the gentleness. All of this was his mess, the blood on his hands, the bruises that covered almost every inch of flesh that he still had. It was all his fault that he should be dealing with.
He was the one that joined the military, he was the one that got his brother’s body stolen. It was all his mess that he had to clean up.
And yet despite that, she still smiled at him like she was glad to see him alright, and she did her best to lessen the pain in Edward’s limbs and to make getting around easier. She worked so hard just for him and he had no idea why she did it.
He didn’t deserve it. None of this.
Edward’s hands were shaking and he clutched them together tightly to try and minimize the tremor. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest from how fast it was beating and Winry was still running her fingers through his hair, smoothing a dollop of conditioner through the strands.
He was sure that she could feel his pulse when her hands brushed over the back of his neck but she didn’t comment on it. A small hum resounded from the back of her throat as she focused on the task in front of her. Winry was methodical like that, when she was determined, she was determined and Edward was sure that she would have badgered him into this one way or another.
Edward’s breath stuttered as Winry smoothed his bangs back, her hand running down his head, scratching lightly at his scalp. Winry politely didn’t point out the way he was trembling under her palms or how his breath was awkward and fractured. Or how he reacted to none of this except for sharp inhales or a twitch of his shoulder.
She could hear the small joints of his automail clicking together as he fidgeted silently. His face had bloomed a dark red and had been that way for several minutes now. Winry smoothed her hand over his hairline, rinsing the conditioner out of his hair in a way to not get it in his eyes or have the water run down his face.
The song she was humming was familiar, but Edward had a hard time placing it, especially with how his thoughts seemed to stall or stop completely when she would pull her fingers through his hair. For a moment it felt as if he couldn’t breathe, her hand was gentle as her short nails scraped lightly at his scalp and the water ran down his back.
It was still warm, but the temperature was unchanged compared to how it would’ve been in a bath. Warm baths got cold quickly, but the shower was still warm and Winry’s hands had warmed to the same temperature.
The sound of the water spraying against the tile went quiet as Winry shut the tap off, her hand resting on Edward’s shoulder.
“Stay here,” She instructed quietly, not wanting to break the spell that had settled in the room. She stood up for a second, shuffling over to the counter where she grabbed the thin metal comb that Edward had brought with him in his travels. It was unnecessarily ornate with a design etched into the surface. She recognized it from a while ago when he got it.
Winry sat back down on the overturned bucket, her foot pressing against Edward’s side. She ran her fingers through his hair one last time before gathering the golden strands in her palm.
Edward shivered, clutching his hands together tighter. Winry pulled the comb through his hair, pulling out the tangles and squeezing out as much water as she could. The thin teeth snagged on a few knots, but nothing too awful.
“Do you remember when we were kids and you and Al would always ask to braid my hair?” Winry asked quietly, staring at Edward’s head as she gently combed his hair. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl up as the water slid down his back and began to dry.
“Mhm,” Edward responded tiredly and albeit a little strained to keep his voice level and without cracking. He sucked in a deep breath, hissing it out through his teeth.
“And when I said yes you two would fight over who got to do it,” Winry laughed softly, bringing a hand up to her mouth to muffle it. Edward blushed a little harder, his heart somehow managing to beat faster.
Winry continued despite Edward’s lack of response, “but I let you both braid it into little pigtails,” she smiled fondly at the memory, “Al never has been very good at braiding hair.”
Edward remembered those times well. How both he and Al would always want to braid Winry’s hair since it was the longest out of the three and how she would sit down on the grass and let each of them take a side. Alphonse was always too loose with his braiding, he was scared of pulling Winry’s hair that he ended up making a poor braid. But Edward was good at it, never too tight or too loose, he knew how to do it better than the three of them. He still did.
“You were good at it,” she continued, combing his bangs away from his forehead only for them to fall right back into place, “and I only let you two do it because it felt nice.”
Edward chuckled weakly, his shoulders shaking a bit too much at the motion. Winry stopped her hand resting on the back of his neck.
“Are you okay?” she asked, a small frown tugging on her lips. Edward forced a nod, swallowing thickly.
“Mhm,” he hummed, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. Her hands finally pulled away from his head and he cursed himself for missing the contact. He missed the gentleness of her touch, knowing it would be a long time until he felt something like this again.
Winry let her hands drop to her lap, the two of them sitting in silence for a long time. Edward refused to let the tears that desperately wanted to spill from the corners of his eyes fall. He brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his cheeks and eyes, a yawn spilling from his lips.
“Here,” Winry reached over, handing him a towel.
“Thank you,” he whispered, exhausted and almost completely voiceless. He toweled off his face and back, wrapping it around his waist as he used the wall to support himself as he stood. Winry smiled softly at him, her eyes displaying her exhaustion as she tried to hide a yawn.
Edward figured that there was something he should say. Another thank you? An apology? Anything except the silence that was currently filling the room.
Instead, he held out his hand, pulling Winry up to her feet when she placed her palm into his. She sighed softly, moving her bangs away from her face.
“You need to start being more careful,” she scolded and Edward just nodded silently and expected that to be the end of the conversation. He expected Winry to go back to her hotel room and sleep while Edward would collapse onto his bed and probably overthink this entire thing.
But then, Winry’s arms were around him and he was suddenly pulled into her embrace. His eyes widened as she buried her head into his shoulder, grip tightening. Edward was frozen.
Her skin was warm as she hugged him and Edward felt a surge of tightness wrap around his chest. He tentatively returned the hug, closing his eyes and choking back the sob that threatened to worm its way out of his throat.
He was shaking so hard he could hear his automail rattling and he was sure that Winry could feel it. But she held him just as tight, if not tighter, her fingers tracing small absent circles onto the exposed skin of his back. A tingling feeling spread from wherever her fingertips brushed and Edward couldn’t stop himself from leaning further into the hug.
And when she finally pulled away, her hands still lingering on his arms, Edward was rattled. He was sure he looked like it too. But Winry smiled softly, patting his cheek (the one that wasn’t bruised) and stepping away. He missed the hug already, his skin burning from how she had pulled him in so close.
“Goodnight, Ed, get some sleep,” she said, stepping over the pile of water that had gathered on the floor.
“Goodnight, Winry,” he said dumbly, holding his hand up in a small wave. She gave him one last smile before ducking out of the bathroom.
Edward stood there for a few seconds longer until he heard the door to the hotel room click shut. Then he began to move from the stupor he had fallen into. He got dressed into something that wasn’t dirty and bloodstained and found himself crawling into bed with that same feeling burning over his skin.
With how fast his heart was beating, he was surprised that sleep came quickly.