Winry wasn't altogether sure how she wound up traipsing alongside her silent companion down the hill from Rockbell Automail Repair and Prosthetics. She only knew it had to do with a very cryptic Alphonse hurrying his older brother into his best—and only—suit, while Granny Pinako all but forced Winry into her nicest dress, twisted her hair into a simple knot, and responded with nothing but laughter and surprising agility when her granddaughter made any escape attempts.

Now, Winry smoothed the soft fabric of the white dress against her stomach, appreciating its almost liquid sheen in the light of the fierce sunset. She didn't have the opportunity to dress up much around Resembool, and she wasn't quite sure how to wear something that wasn't greasy and blackened. Glancing sideways at Edward, she almost laughed at how uncomfortable he looked in the modest dress suit. Al had strong-armed his brother into making the purchase, with the half-hearted yet semi-plausible argument that he might need it someday for a military event. That was a month ago, and still Ed refused to try on the thing, even for fitting purposes. Until now, that is. Winry wondered what martial arts skills Al had to use to get his relentlessly informal brother into a cravat.

Ed cleared his throat loudly, and as Winry turned her head to look at him, she noted with a suppressed giggle that his discomfort was rapidly escalating into panic. His nose and ears were roughly the color of the sinking orb in the sky, and he clutched his arms so stiffly to his sides that Winry thought maybe both of them were made of automail and were in need of a good oiling. Evidently the prolonged silence of their walk was deeply unsettling to him.

"Those two, huh?" was his starting comment.

"Yeah," Winry followed. "I've never seen Granny exert that much sheer manpower. It was kinda scary being the one under her wrench—or—hands, I guess."

"Al said if I didn't put on the suit he'd kick my ass into the next Promised Day. Of course, he was grinning ear-to-ear, so there were some mixed signals." Ed searched around for pockets in the unfamiliar jacket, and shoved his hands into them. "He also said he and Granny agreed that the house was way too crowded with all four of us hanging out there all the time. And since I'm apparently the most trouble, I was the first to get hauled out the door." He scowled, but didn't attempt to refute the charge. "I don't know why they kicked you out too, though. You're useful, apparently."

"If you count running half the business 'useful,' then that's the truth," Winry sniffed. She didn't mention that Granny Pinako had sat her down yesterday and showed her half a dozen automail parts that were malfunctioning spectacularly after Winry's "thorough" maintenance on them. The embarrassed mechanic was forced to confront her increasing distraction, and the subsequent effect on her usually flawless metal creations. Barring a brain hemorrhage or loss of limb, the only possible cause of the sharp deterioration in Winry's work was the presence of the former alchemist walking right next to her.

Ed ignored her tiff, gazing toward the growing lights of downtown. "What the hell are we supposed to do in town? And dressed like this?" Ed swatted impatiently at the intricacies of his attire. At the same time, his stomach growled audibly.

"Well, you seem to have already made the suggestion, but we could always eat somewhere," Winry teased him. "There's actually a new restaurant here that's almost on a par with the some of the nice places in Central. It opened a few months ago, but I haven't gotten to visit it yet. Want to try there?" Ed made a nondescript noise in his throat, which Winry interpreted as assent.

The two walked on as the dirt path opened into the wider streets of the town proper. Resembool nights were never boisterous, but there was a steady hum of activity tonight from the shops, bars, and cafes. Golden lamplight replaced the afternoon's keen orange brilliance as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the gentle glow reflected softly off the highlights of Winry's hair and her ivory dress. Ed felt his throat dry up as he looked down at her, before swallowing hard and tersely tapping her shoulder.

"Is that it?" He motioned towards a building quite a ways down the street, from which emanated the strains of music and the sound of a healthy crowd.

"That's the one. It's called The Golden Mockingbird. Sounds a lot more posh than what we're used to around here, doesn't it?" Winry grinned up at him, and he wondered if his heart might actually stop beating. Ed didn't know if he should be cursing or kissing Al for his harebrained suggestion.

"Alphonse, if you say that word one more time, I will transmute your idiotic mug back into the Gate of Truth and see how you enjoy Father's company for the rest of eternity."

"What word is that, Ed? Oh, is it "date?" Is that the one you're referring to? Oh and by the way, you're going to have to perform a significant miracle to be able to transmute humans—or anything—again, which I look forward to witnessing."

"Shut the hell up! Dammit, she's just downstairs! And you're practically yelling!"

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm not the one here who's shouting."

Ed slowly unclenched his fist, which he had half-fantasized closing around his brother's throat, and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Al, it isn't in the cards. It would be beyond weird. We're practically as close as siblings—and what's more, I'm pretty sure that's the only way she's ever going to think of me."

"You really can be thick sometimes, Ed." Alphonse sighed dramatically, shifting his still fragile form as he rested on the couch. Ed immediately reverted into protective older brother mode, offering another pillow, which Al gently pushed away. "Being in a room with the two of you is like waiting for a bomb to go off. I barely prevented Granny from forcing you and Winry into a broom closet and locking it so you could sort through your issues. Although to be honest, I'm not sure she thought that plan through…" Al waggled his eyebrows at his visibly embarrassed brother.

Ed got up and started stalking the room like a caged animal. "Well, what am I going to do? It'll just freak her out if I tell her any of this, and I don't want to make things more awkward than they already are." He rubbed his temples vigorously, looking so distraught and at the same time so comical that Al chuckled, which earned him a stony glare.

The smiling boy addressed Ed's doubts: "I don't think you're giving Winry enough credit, brother. But I do have an idea that will remove you from suspicion. That is, as long as you're willing to put the word "date" back into your limited vocabulary."

Edward groaned. This was going to be humiliating, and probably more terrifying than any homunculus he'd ever faced off with. But it was certainly better than living in limbo.

Ed remembered two weeks ago when Al proposed that he and Pinako provide cover for Ed and Winry to spend some time together—time that didn't involve Ed's boxer-clad self under the girl's critical eye in the automail workshop. There hadn't been an opportunity to put the plan in motion, especially since one of its major players still needed a little help getting up and down the stairs. However, the last few days had seen Alphonse moving around the house entirely under his own power. Ed was beyond relieved to see his brother back in his healthy human body, but he wished—oh, he wished—that Al had at least warned him beforehand instead of catching him off guard and flinging him out the front door to go entertain Winry.

That, and some choice details of the plan were never under discussion, he thought as he frowned down at the suit again.

"Here we are." Winry took his elbow and guided him into the restaurant while he was still wrapped up in his own distractions. Ed peered nervously around the establishment, noting with relief that it was nothing like some of the joints in Central. The dark wood and roaring fireplace gave the place a friendly atmosphere, and even though many of the patrons were dressed formally, Ed and Winry didn't stand out as being too casual. In fact, Ed noticed, Winry looked a damn sight better than anyone else in the room.

They were seated quickly, and given menus with a picture of a gilded bird on the front. With water tumblers in front of them, the two talked about familiar, comfortable topics before deciding on what to order. Al's recovery, Granny's health, and Winry's friends in Rush Valley figured largely in their talk. Ed finally began to relax, and even to think that Al had a point. If this was what going on a date with Winry was like, than it really wasn't so bad. After about five minutes, a waiter approached their table.

Winry was in the middle of telling Ed about Paninya's latest letter when the waiter reached their table. After wishing them a good evening and listing the specials, he asked if they'd care to see the wine list. Winry quickly responded in the affirmative, even as she saw Ed trying to shake his head at her from across the table. She selected a vintage from Aerugo, and the waiter took the list from her with a smile, saying he'd be back with a bottle shortly.

Winry glanced across the table, nearly spitting out her water when she saw her dinner companion staring at her with a slack jaw. "I haven't seen any flies in here yet, but you might want to close that up before one finds its way in," she warned him playfully. She heard his teeth click as they snapped together.

"Winry, what the hell? Aren't they—don't they—aren't you sixteen?"

She shrugged. "Ed, it's not a big deal. This isn't a big city like Central or East; no one's upset when a couple sixteen-year-olds drink responsibly. They just don't care enough to enforce a rule like that."

Ed was still sputtering a bit, and when the bottle itself arrived at their table he turned positively crimson.

God, that's adorable,was Winry's unbidden thought. She shook her head to clear the nonsense out as the server poured glasses for both of them, leaving the bottle at the table. He stayed long enough to take both their orders, and then departed.

Ed fell silent, apparently adjusting himself to the study of his full glass. Winry picked hers up and gazed through the deeply tinted liquid. It was a bright, inflamed red in the well-lit room, and Winry's mind was suddenly jarred with images of the hate-filled eyes of an Ishvalan monk. She lifted the glass and took a generous sip, hoping the alcohol would flush out that singularly unpleasant memory.

Winry wasn't plagued with nightmares like she was before the Promised Day. No more waking up shaking so hard her bones ached, trying to force her loved ones' names out through chattering teeth. No more midnight trips to the bathroom to rinse her sweat-soaked hair, splashing the freezing water on her skin to reassure herself that the hideous visions were nothing more than her overactive imagination. Ever since the boys—her boys—had come back with only one missing limb between the two of them, Winry's nights had been quiet. Now it was her own battles that haunted her, not those of others. And the most wrenching memory of her young life, staring down the barrel of her own revenge, was still capable of stopping her in her tracks.

She looked at the young man across from her, who was currently tipping his wineglass back and forth as if trying to visually assess its chemical makeup. Winry felt her face break into a smile as she considered that Ed, immature and short-tempered as he was, was the only reason her life hadn't fallen apart in that critical moment. And at the present, she didn't think it was the wine causing giddy warmth to bloom in her chest.

Ed sloshed his glass around, still not taking a sip until he was sure the stuff wouldn't backfire on him. Winry had already drunk some, but she was related to Pinako, so Ed banked a lot on her natural tolerance. Finally, he took a ginger swallow, expecting a harsh burn similar to the one accompanying Havoc's concoction of choice. The lieutenant had forced a mouthful on Ed at their last meeting, saying that nothing was sure to inspire feats of courage and manliness like one swig of Drachman vodka. Ed thought it far more likely to induce projectile vomiting, feats of courage notwithstanding.

Instead, he tasted the South. The bitterness left his mouth with an aftertaste of berries and cinnamon. Not so bad. Ed glimpsed Winry over the rim of his glass as he put it down. She was watching him with warm eyes and the corners of her mouth gently turned up. His stomach dropped a little, and he felt blood rush to his ears as he nearly choked on that one sip. But he really liked that expression on her face, even when it didn't happen to be directed at him. He'd seen worry etched on her forehead—usually related to his dangerous exploits—and it soothed his guilt to see her relaxed, carefree smile again.

"Not what you expected, is it?" she inquired.

It took a second for him to figure out she was talking about the wine. "Oh, no, I guess not. At least it's better than that swill Havoc raves over." He grimaced. "And it's a hell of a lot nicer than milk."

Winry's laughter rang out, and even though Ed made a face, he was happy he could still amuse her. At least this "date" wasn't going to be full of awkward silences.

Their food arrived soon afterwards, and the wine bottle quickly emptied as the two dug in and enjoyed a dinner conversation that didn't veer towards any uncomfortable topics. When she wasn't chucking wrenches at him, lamenting the state of his prosthetics, or berating him for his dangerous missions, Ed and Winry got along well—very well. That is, until Ed unfailingly shoved his automail foot into his mouth. He had a chronic habit of blurting out something insensitive, painful, or insulting just when he and Winry had finally hit their stride. Which was why tonight, he was carefully avoiding anything that could generate conflict.

The military.That was Ed's concern. He was still technically a state alchemist, and he knew Winry was aware of that. He also knew that he was still the military's "dog," and his leave could be up at any time. Even though he no longer had the ability to transmute, Ed's knowledge of alchemical science was beyond many of the leading minds in the military, and he didn't chalk it up to them to give him up so easily. His limited freedom in Resembool was the last thing he wanted to bring up after everything was finally calming down.

So he stuck to safe territory, which was easy enough. Pretty soon (about halfway down the wine bottle), he found that conversation came second to body language anyway. He was almost agonizingly aware of Winry's hand, which had rested on the table during their talk and was creeping steadily towards him. Three-quarters down the bottle, he found the guts to cover her fingers with his own, and realized somewhere along the way that his sentence had stopped mid-syllable. He gave up trying to remember his train of thought when he looked into her eyes.

Either this drink is stronger than I thought, or she's somehow gotten ten times more beautiful since we sat down.

He was sitting so far on the edge of his seat he had to jam his heels into the floor to keep from falling, but he only wanted to get a little closer…maybe touch her cheek…and who knows after that, maybe…

Suddenly Winry pulled back, pressing herself against the back of her seat and inhaling sharply. Ed realized their lips had been inches away, and stifled an anguished noise. So close. What had he done wrong? Was it too fast? Maybe it wasn't good manners to try and kiss a girl halfway through your first date, especially if that girl was your mechanic and was probably secreting a pocket-sized wrench with which to bash in your damn thick skull.

Winry tried to figure out exactly what had caused her to break the moment that very well might have turned into her first kiss. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something just felt…off. As nice as the restaurant was, she didn't want something so important—to her, at least—happening in front of everyone else in the building. She also had the bizarre sensation that Ed was trying a bit too hard to be nice. Her oldest friend and best customer couldn't talk for five minutes without hitting a nerve, and so far he had been all sensitivity during their dinner conversation.

Well, if she couldn't get him to be forthright with her, she'd just have to rely on the alcohol.

"Want to finish it off?" She tapped the neck of the wine bottle enticingly.

Ed appeared to still be shaking himself out a disappointed haze. Winry wondered exactly how stupid she'd been for missing such a prime opportunity.

No, I don't know what's up with my instincts, but this just wasn't right.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help glancing remorsefully at his rather too perfect—and currently agonized—features. Be strong.

Ed's gaze shifted to the bottle, which still held a small amount of the ruby vintage. He hesitated, reached out and took the bottle, then skipped the pouring stage entirely and downed it in a gulp.

"Ed!"

Winry's shocked reprimand had no effect on Ed's composure. She swiveled her head rapidly to see if any of the waiters or diners had witnessed his impropriety. Luckily, no one looked scandalized, so she counted her blessings and settled for glaring at the shameless buffoon across the table.

"You better hope the bill comes fast, before you do something else to get us kicked out for indecency."

Ed, still unconcerned, grinned toothily at her and flagged down the nearest waiter.

A few minutes later, Ed and a still-mortified Winry returned to the main streets of Resembool and started walking towards the edge of town. The dusk had deepened greatly, and not even the lights of downtown could dim the effervescent wash of stars illuminating the countryside. Winry saw Ed's chin tip up as he stopped in the middle of the road to stare at the constellations. She halted alongside him.

"They're always this bright, huh?"

Winry didn't respond for a few seconds. She was hit with the realization that Edward, relentlessly driven on his tortured quest for so long, had been deprived of too many simple wonders. She didn't think the stars in Central ever looked this bright or this close. She snatched one of his hands out of his pocket and hurried him a little roughly down the street.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

She steered them out of town and up the path that led back to the Rockbells' house, but before the house itself came in sight she turned and started climbing the gentle grassy slope. She knew Ed had figured out where she was taking them—this was a favorite playground for them as children. The huge, lonely cliff-side tree might not have been a traditionally friendly place for three toddlers to play, but Alphonse, Edward, and Winry had always preferred its sturdy branches to the frail saplings near their homes.

The tree, silhouetted against the brilliance of moon and stars, almost looked like it was waiting for them. The neglected swing hung motionless in the heavy summer night, and Winry gingerly sat down on it, hoping the wood and rope would bear her weight. Ed flung himself onto the grass, entirely careless of his nice clothes. Winry grinned, imagining Al trying vigorously to scrub out the stains on his brother's only good suit.

"Hey, you're right. Up here they're a lot more…" Ed lifted his right hand to gesture vaguely at the shimmering sky. The stars, bright as they were in the midst of town, now cast a persistent silver glow that left no room for shadows. Winry could see every hair on Ed's outstretched arm, the dip of his throat, the strands of grass tangled in his hair. I really should have kissed him back there.

"…Winry?"

The distracted girl jerked, and realized that Ed had asked her something.

"Oh, sorry. I guess the wine affected me more than I thought."

Ed snickered. "Guess the Rockbell tolerance gets watered down through the generations."

Winry growled and reached for her trusty wrench, then remembered her dress didn't have a single pocket, much less one big enough for her weapon of choice. "Stop being rude, and just ask your question again, won't you?"

Ed flipped over onto his stomach and obliged. "Do you think you'll stay here?"

Winry wasn't sure how to answer. "You mean—forever? In my house? In Resembool? I don't think so."

"Oh. Just wondering."

"I want to go back to Rush Valley some time. There are a lot of people there who really wanted me to stay and keep making automail for them. I could even start my own business…it's what I always imagined doing, honestly."

Winry didn't really pay attention as Ed rolled onto his back again, looking a little deflated. His question, idle as it seemed, started her on a train of thought that kept her speaking.

She had never talked to Ed about her own plans. Up until now she had been so concerned with making sure he and Al were safe and stayed that way, she had barely thought about a life for herself—a normal life. More than just a normal life—a successful life, doing what she loved.

"I mean, obviously I'm not qualified yet, but where better than Rush Valley to finish my training? Garfiel would take me on again, I'm sure of it, and I could keep studying with Mr. Dominic—he's the best of the best, really, and if I could work under him, I might be able to come up with designs that are truly groundbreaking. And combining that with the northern alloy that your automail is made of…wow, there are some serious possibilities! Ed, do you know how much work I have to do? I'm going to start some design schematics tonight, once we get back—"

Winry sat up ramrod straight on the swing, alight with the sparkle of new work and a mechanical challenge, and Ed scrambled upright in no small alarm. He interrupted her excited monologue by grabbing one of the swing's ropes and twisting her around to face him.

"Hold on, Winry. Why haven't you mentioned any of this before now?" His eyebrows were tilted sharply upward in concern. "Have you asked anyone about this, or gotten any advice? Is this the first time you've thought about what you want to do? You should probably take a few days to think over your plans. I mean—what's so bad about staying here? Taking over Granny's business. You get plenty of customers, and everyone already trusts the Rockbell name."

Winry heard his voice slowly creeping up into a nervous register. She herself was slightly confused as to why he was opposing her new and brilliant life goals. After all, why should I stay here in Resembool forever? It's not like he's ever felt any long-term ties. Bitterness welled in her chest. He's going to leave again. He just can't say anything about it.But Ed was not done with his counterargument.

"Rush Valley can be dangerous Winry. I know you have some friends there, and it was a great experience for you—but for a short time! Wouldn't you want to make your life and career here, where it's familiar, and safe, where people wouldn't worry—" He jerked to a stop, possibly because he might have been about to say something regrettable, but more reasonably because the young mechanic launched herself upright, going nose to nose with him and lancing spears from her dangerously narrowed eyes.

"Oh, what a fantastic argument you make—Rush Valley, dangerous! Dangerous for me, a poor defenseless little maid. You complete imbecile, you've had too many wrenches to the cranium to ever think I can't take care of myself. And you have the damn nerve to talk about worry?! After what I have lived through? Worry has been the only thing uppermost in my thoughts since you first started on this path to get your bodies back. And did you or Al ever listen to me? Did you even stay in contact? You have got to give this up, Ed, or at least develop a better argument, because you have no room to be talking about how worriedyou'll be about me. It's not equivalent exchange—and that's probably the only way you'd ever understand it."

Winry backed down a little. Even she was a little surprised by her own tirade. Well, the other shoe had to drop at some point.

She was still near enough to his face to see the unadulterated shock in Ed's golden eyes. The shock was quickly succeeded by defensiveness, and…guilt? No, that couldn't be right. Then his face closed off, like he shut an inner door. Instead of immediately retaliating in typical Ed fashion, he kept silent, which made Winry feel worse than irritated; she felt horribly lost. Their verbal sparring was something she counted on to remain the same forever, no matter how much either of them changed. If he was being quiet, he was still keeping something hidden.

She dropped back onto the swing, smoothing her hands restlessly over the fabric of her dress. The satin was so cool, it felt almost damp—like soft, pale tears. But Winry's eyes, so quick to well up at others' misfortunes, were dry now. She might be Ed's oldest friend, but she was obviously not someone he could talk to without concealment. And friendship without honesty was hardly worth the name.

Winry spoke softly into the tense silence.

"I can't stay here forever, Ed. You haven't. And I feel like I've always been leashed here, something always tugs me back even though I can't see a future here. But I think I might have the tools to cut that leash now. And no one can tell me when or if I can do it—that's my decision. Even you have to admit that's fair."

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and she even had a split second to wonder why what she said had struck a chord with him, when her sharp complaints earlier had just barricaded him away. But before she could look up to assess, Ed had dropped to his knees in front of her and tugged the swing forward with one hand. With the other, he cupped the back of her head to suddenly pull her lips to his.

It was a short kiss, and Ed's head was pounding with too much adrenaline to even make sense of which direction was up. He felt like the galaxy was whirling precariously, with only him, Winry, and the lone tree at the unmoving axis. Am I actually drunk? tumbled through his consciousness, before being replaced by the overwhelming realization that he had just kissed his mechanic. At an insurmountably and grotesquely inappropriate moment, nonetheless.

Ed stared at Winry, bracing himself for the oncoming tempest, which he fully deserved. What in Truth's name had come over him? And what made this the moment to kiss her, when a romantic date hadn't done the trick? The girl's wide eyes were locked on his, her expression unreadable. She lifted one hand to gently press her mouth, as if to make sure it was still there.

"Wh-what?" she faltered out, sounding exactly as confused as Ed still felt.

"Sorry! Oh Winry, I'm so sorry. I don't know—what the hell that was—I'm really sorry. Shit. I just…"

Ed tried to articulate the intense panic that had flooded his brain when Winry had first said the word, "leash." She felt trapped in Resembool because of them. The Elrics. They were what caged her in the house she had always grown up in, and it was because of them she had waited, alone, on the off chance that they would come back and need her help. It was his harebrained selfishness that had forced him to try and talk her into staying here, when she obviously had bigger and better plans for her life work. And kissing her was his regrettable strategy for convincing her that maybe she should keep waiting.

He swallowed—his throat was desert-dry—and tried to put together an explanation that would excuse his very impulsive actions. "Yes. You're right. It's your decision, and you'll be able to know best where you should go, and what to do when you get there. But someone—who might want to find you—might not always know where to look. Especially if that…person…hasn't always been the best with communication in the past. And maybe that person doesn't want you to feel leashed here, but he also…doesn't want you to move on completely, and make a life for yourself, without maybe…letting him know, so he could still be part of it."

Ed faded a little through the last few words, hoping that he hadn't just royally screwed any of his last chances. Winry still looked a bit dazed, but as he finished speaking, he thought the corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly when eventual realization struck. Then her face grew stern, and he braced for impact.

"What about you, Ed?"

He stared blankly. That was not the expected response. "What?"

"I mean, will you stay here?"

He flinched. There it was. Beyond anything, he didn't want her to be hurt at his inevitable departure, whether it was to continue working in the military, or something else, faraway in the West. He could not tell her that he'd always be here, but it was hell to think that she'd be living her life in Rush Valley—or wherever she decided was right for her—growing even more beautiful…and forgetting him.

"No." Ed thought the word sounded cruel as it cut the evening air, but oddly, Winry's face softened when she heard it. "I can't. I still have obligations to the military—like Mustang is ever going to let me forget it—and even if I didn't, there's too much to still find out about alchemy, especially since Scar's brother's research came into the open. I would be falling down on the job if I just stopped now. I'm sorry."

And he looked down, certain that now Winry knew his plans, nebulous as they were, she would write him off forever. She'd always hated that he was with the military, and the knowledge that he was under Mustang's thumb even though Al was still getting his strength back would infuriate her. He heard her move slightly, and he waited for her to get up and leave him alone in the dark. But instead, her hand reached out and softly tipped his face up to again meet her eyes.

Winry saw in his face the anticipation that his words would drive her away. He can be so stupid. What he's saying really can't be worse than what I've already survived.She kept holding his chin steady, feeling soft stubble beneath her fingertips. "Then now we both know what to expect. No surprises."

The confusion in his expression prompted her to explain more.

"I don't like being stuck here, always waiting, but the waiting is so much worse when it's accompanied by secrecy. You've always known everything about me, Ed, but I haven't had the same knowledge about you. You can't expect me to always, always wait with no reason given. Maybe now it's time for you to do some waiting of your own—we can each wait a little longer…for each other, if that's okay."

Winry felt heat creeping up her neck. This was as close as she'd ever gotten to telling Ed her feelings for him, and she had certainly never thought such sentiments would follow one of their arguments. She had also insinuated that he felt the same way about her—which, admittedly, she strongly suspected—but it just felt so presumptuous now that the words were out.

Ed stayed silent, and Winry found she couldn't look at him any more. Her hand fell away from his face as uncertainty closed around her. But as her hand dropped, she suddenly felt one of his catching it. Her eyes flew up to his face in surprise.

He was looking at her with a little incredulity, and something else that made her heart skitter unevenly. He brought her hand back up to his face, and for a wild second Winry thought he might actually kiss the back of it, which struck her as being hysterically out of character. Instead, he turned it over and briefly pressed his lips to her open palm. It was so sweet, and so wonderfully Ed, that she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Then he released her hand again and raised his head, the deep red color of his ears and cheeks apparent in the silver light.

"That's okay," he muttered, brushing away his bangs in obvious embarrassment.

Winry smiled at him as he returned to standing. He cleared his throat loudly and thrust his right hand in her direction. "You wanna go back now?"

"Sure." Winry slipped her fingers through his and got off the creaky swing. Their plans could wait for the next day, or week, or month. And both of them could keep waiting for each other a little bit longer. But Winry couldn't help wondering exactly why Ed had been so honest and open with her, when she usually had to work, argue, trick, and connive to find out anything about him at all.

Hmm. Maybe I should have tipped the waiter a bit more for bringing out that Aerugan red.