Run-Ins

He was walking along the sidewalk, his German Shepherd in tow, reading the morning newspaper sprinkled with unnecessary information and maybe a page or two of real news. His head was bowed slightly to accommodate the position of his paper, his eyes squinting slightly every now and again to view the hard to read sections of the paper. His morning routine would always go this way; first, he would go to the nearby, quaint little café at the corner of Union street to grab his morning cup of coffee, straight black. Next, he would pad toward the kiosk that would always be parked next to the mailbox on the opposite street, and buy a roll of newspaper to check – if any that he hadn't heard of already – the news for that day. After having completed these two tasks, he would walk Zell – his dog – around the block until she was satisfied, and calmly step around the crowded section of the district, walk up the steps of his apartment building, enter, use the rickety old elevator, walk over to his door, unlock it, and amble into the mediocre apartment. Following the sequence, he would merely get ready for work, his (atrocious) military uniform hanging ominously in the wardrobe of his bedroom, his silver pocket watch left on the nightstand to the left of the structure. Afterward, he would walk to Central Headquarters, and start his day.

He was in the middle of this process, strolling around the area of Central, waiting for Zell to finish her business. He was looking over the rim of the newspaper, finding nothing interesting that caught his eye, and watched the passersby as he and Zell walked.

And he probably didn't realize the woman scampering toward him near his blind spot.

The two nearly stumbled over themselves, the man cursing quietly, his coffee having spilt all over his shirt and down some ways onto his pants, while the woman apologized profusely and incessantly, saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" and "here, let me get that for you!"

Apparently she carried a packet of tissues in her pocket.

–

Winry was extremely late for her meeting.

She had thought she set the alarm to 6:00 am. Upon waking, however, she hadn't heard any obnoxious beeping, or the low growling of her dog (she wondered why he hated that clock). The maroon silk drapes were closed, but the stream of morning light beamed through the slit in the middle, making Winry jolt up awake, grabbing the clock on her nightstand, her eyes bulging.

It was 8:24 in the morning.

"Shit!"

Scrambling off her oh so comfortable and warm bed, she bolted from the structure, clambering into the bathroom, and slamming the door shut (although there wasn't really anyone to invade her privacy). After having brushed her teeth for the desired three minutes, she rinsed her mouth quickly of the remaining foam, spitting the contents into the glass basin.

She yanked the mirror cabinet open, snagging what little skin care products she possessed, and slathered the creams onto her face, making sure to blend every speck of the substance without trace. After fixing herself up with very minimal make-up, she brushed through her tumbleweed of hair, and neatly braided it, while simultaneously walking back towards her bedroom.

Grabbing the set of clothes she had laid out on her leather backed chair the night before, she wasted no time in hopping into the grey pencil skirt, hastily putting on her white, ruffled collar shirt and matching grey jacket, and slipping on the nude stockings up her legs. Braiding finished and clothing somewhat put together, she swiftly padded toward her modest kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread left on the countertop, placed it in her mouth, and seized her tote and briefcase from the mahogany table adjacent to the pantry.

Checking her cases for everything she would need for the meeting, she almost forgot to leave food and water for her dog.

Sighing in relief that Den was actually in the house, she ran towards the door, grabbing her black 2-inch heels from the shoe rack on the left of the door, and settled her feet into them. Clutching her keys from the duck on the wall above the shoe rack, she yanked the door open, walked out, shut it, and locked it quickly.

–

What a predicament she was in now.

Because she was rushing down the streets of the city and looking down at her watch (which she did every thirty seconds), she failed to notice the man walking perpendicular to her own direction, and practically slammed her body into his, the steaming hot brown liquid splashing over the man whose day she probably just ruined.

"Oh my gosh, I'm s-so sorry! H-here, let me get that for you," she sputtered uselessly, the man's eyes in utter disbelief. She desperately dabbed away at the coffee, trying to wipe the substance from his clothing.

Winry heard him clearing his throat loudly and stopped her ministrations, realizing, embarrassingly, how close her hand had been to touching his crotch.

Standing up abruptly, and forgetting her lateness to an especially important conference, her petite face flushed a bright red, apologizing again for her (may have been) misinterpretation of trying to 'feel him up.'

The man chuckled awkwardly, trying to cover his actual frustrations from the woman before him, the hand that had been holding the newspaper (left forgotten on the concrete where his coffee had spilled) going behind his head, scratching nervously, "It's alright, really," his eyes twinkled slightly amusingly; the woman's eyes looked down toward the asphalt, obviously abashed at her previous actions, "I was almost done with that, anyway."

Winry looked up then, surprised at the non-scolding tone in his voice, eyes gazing into his golden ones (what a lovely shade, too), "Well, it's not like I feel any better about h-having run into you rudely, adding to the fact that I a-also had your coffee that you obviously spent at least two dollars on all over the ground… uhm, mister…?"

The man raised a brow, his hand hanging limply at his side once again, and realized after a moment what she had asked, "Elric. Edward Elric."

Winry sighed, "Mister Elric, I apologize for the mess I've caused, but i-if you'll excuse me," she glanced at her watch again, and gasped, "I-I'm extremely late for a meeting!"

Edward stared at the flustered woman, his hand automatically lifting up to grab her hand before she got away, "Wait, I didn't quite get your name."

The woman raised her face up, looking at his eyes, "My name's Winry, Winry Rockbell."

Edward paused, "…Rockbell, you say?"

Winry tilted her head to the side, "Yes, my surname is Rockbell, and?"

"Your grandmother is Pinako Rockbell, then?" He inquired, his hand going around again to scratch the back of his neck.

Winry, still confused, confirmed his question, "Yes, Pinako is my grandmother…" She examined his body (not like that!) slowly, realizing that his hand was still holding hers, and saw that he wore gloves, and the hard, cold sensation she felt through them almost seemed like…

She gasped, "You have automail?"

Edward clamped her mouth shut with his hands, "Don't just go announcing it to the world!"

Her eyes widened a fraction at the close proximity between her face and his, and cursed herself for not having noticed sooner; she was supposed to be her grandmother's legacy, for crying out loud! She quickly made the 'OK' sign with her fingers, and, hesitantly, Edward lifted his hand from her mouth, Winry letting out a long breath after her mouth was freed, "Sorry, I didn't realize…"

Edward's mouth twitched upward, "It's alright, I'm just… not comfortable with the attention these limbs get," he swung his right arm for emphasis.

Winry raised a brow, "Limbs?"

Edward's face contorted into a frown, "Yeah, my uh… my right arm and left leg are, uh, automail."

There was a long pause before anyone said anything. Winry contemplated asking how he had lost two of his limbs, and at his age (she guessed he was around the same age as her) no less, but decided against it.

Having been standing stagnantly facing each other for a minute or two, maybe even longer, Winry asked, "So, was my grandmother your mechanic, then?"

Edward lifted his head up, nodding slowly, "Yeah, granny Pinako was my mechanic, but I haven't been able to get in touch with her recently."

Winrys dainty lips pulled downwards, her forehead forming tiny little frowning wrinkles, "Grandmother passed away around a month ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Edward regretted his thoughts of further imploring about his mechanic and her grandmother.

Winry shook her head firmly, "No, it's alright, she left peacefully, so there's nothing to apologize for." Her quivering hands contradicted her statement, though.

Edward still felt remorse for her loss. The silence took over again, although the bustling of the city people drowned out his mind into a pool of mush and useless thoughts, but that didn't keep him from speaking.

Edward coughed awkwardly, "Well, miss Rockbell," his face blushing marginally, "I hope to run in to you again sometime, then."

Winry smiled gently, "It's just Winry, and sure, I'd like that, maybe even check up your automail, see how it's working, right?"

Edward nodded his head slowly, his own smile forming onto his glowing face. Winry decided she'd appreciate his existence in her life.

So worth missing half a meeting for.

–

Zell watched the strange exchange curiously, her bottom sitting on the ground, like master had taught her, and regarded the conversation with interest.

But… can I go home now?

A/N: So yeah, that's that. This was supposed to be a one-shot, which is why the following chapters may not seem to mix together, properly. I've decided that there is no strict timeline, so there will be some long skips of time in between different chapters, because I feel it's easier for me to handle than following a strict plan. Thanks for reading by the way! Hope you click that 'next chapter' button, because I promise, my writing gets better.