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He’d been practicing. It took everything in Winry not to be nosy, to poke and prod and ask a zillion questions and give her own two cents. She wasn’t a bad cook. Neither was Ed, though he had a lot to learn after a childhood of rations and restaurant food.
Pinako didn’t spoil the secret, but she did tell her granddaughter to get the hell out of her kitchen several times. Eventually, it worked.
Winry focused instead on doing her job. Running herself ragged, the boys would say, but she didn’t feel like that. She felt alive and free. Her belly was empty of the intense worry of making sure they were okay. She could now do anything, swallow new worries and solve problems. Her life’s work, she was beginning to realize.
Though she figured out what he’d been practicing, she didn’t know it was for her. She thought it was for the next journey, one he hadn’t mentioned but knew he was itching to take. Winry saw it in the way he read– voraciously, like always, but with intent. He picked books about the West, about culture and foods and how to behave there. He had to know she knew– that she watched everyone she loved like a hawk even if she didn’t act on the knowledge. She didn’t resent his travel. She loved him for it; wanted him to become the best person he could be. Wanted his future to be bright and full of knowledge, like she thought he may have always wished.
Alphonse went away to Central, beginning to cement his own plans on leaving– out East instead– talking with their military friends and other people they met on the quest to stop the Promised Day.
Pinako left for a nearby village for a long surgery, having to work past the last train and stay with her patient for a night.
Winry had thought about changing her plans to spend alone time with Edward, something they barely had, but she had a consult she couldn’t cancel. Ed wasn’t mad when she told him, which kind of made her mad, but he smiled and told her he would be happy to see her later.
Her consultation went longer than expected. The client had lots of questions about her new arm, and wanted to know the machinations of how it would work. It was invigorating. Sometimes, you get someone who doesn’t care, who wants you out as soon as it’s installed. Winry could tell this woman would be a lifer: she’d get her checkups, come around the house to say hello if nearby. Maybe be a friend.
It wasn’t quite twilight yet when she walked home, but the sun was low, readying itself for its nightly dip. The Risembool summer breeze played with her hair, had the trees waving hello. Wildflowers bobbed in the fields, specks of colors playing at the corners of her eyes.
She loved traveling too. Loved the dust of Rush Valley, the teamwork and rebuilding in Liore, the city streets of Central when she could enjoy them without almost dying. She loved it all.
But Risembool was home.
There was comfort in jiggling the front door handle just right to get it to pop open. Her shoulders instantly relaxed as she stepped into the hallway.
Usually, Edward would be sitting on the couch reading, waiting for her. Neither of them had been brave when it came to their feelings for one another. She knew they were there, for both of them, she wanted to give Ed all the time he needed.
She needed time too. When they returned, it took everything in her not to break down everyday. Who thought they’d get to this point? Neither did, so they never planned ahead.
Things were better now, after a year of recovery. She was almost ready to convince him, if not for the little girl inside her that wanted him to make the first move. She told Granny that once, thinking she’d be upset; she just smiled at Winry and said I hope you get that.
The light in the kitchen was on, so she walked there. Smells hit her then, sauteed onions and garlic, fresh bread, something else sweet and rich in the air. Her mouth watered; she hadn’t eaten all afternoon and her stomach grumbled at her stupid decision.
Was Granny back?
Something made Winry hesitate. She stopped shy of the doorway, not wanting to look through yet. A record played softly in the background, quiet against the louder sounds of sizzling, of dishes being rinsed, ice clinking in a glass.
She stepped through and her mouth dropped.
In front of her, Edward Elric filled two water glasses. He had on slacks and a white shirt, with her apron folded down and wrapped around his waist. His hair was in a ponytail, the style he chose more and more often now compared to his long braid, and the ends of his strands tickled the back of his neck. Just like Winry wanted to do.
“You coming in or what? Food is almost ready.”
He grinned and waved her to the table.
He even pulled out her chair, making her brain break for a second time.
“I..Is this why you started practicing cooking?”
Edward had moved back to his pan, tasting the red sauce before sprinkling in a bit more salt. She stared at his back muscles, visible through the shirt, and how his belt was drawn tight, perfectly framing his ass. She bet he could feel her staring, but she didn’t care. Let him know.
“Who told you?” he finally asked. He started to move the sauce pan, full of tomato sauce and noodles, topped with herbs, to their table, along with a still steaming half boule loaf.
“No one told me. I notice things.”
“You’re nosy.”
“AM NOT!” she said, lying her ass off. Her smile gave her away. Ed laughed at her, voice low enough to make her legs clench.
“So you knew I’d been cooking, but you didn’t guess why?”
“I never thought it would be for me?” she said it like a question, afraid to hurt his feelings but needing to be honest nonetheless.
He only nodded, and served the food. Her plate was first. He swirled the pasta perfectly, and cut her a huge hunk of bread off, slathered with creamy yellow butter. He plates his a little less meticulously, and sits to her right instead of across from her. They were close, knees able to knock against one another if you shifted the wrong way.
The silence was heavy but not awkward. The record was still spinning, a new hornline filling up the kitchen. Winry picked up her fork, ready to dig it, but Ed laid a hand on her arm first. She looked into his eyes, so much like the lowering sun she basked in on her way home.
“Of course I learned for you. I wanted to…give you something you could remember.”
Tears started to prick her eyes. She’d always been a crybaby so that was no surprise, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. Still, her voice sounded wobbly when she told him, “This is the first time a boy has made me a meal.”
“It’s the first time I’ve been on a date,” he said back.
This time she does cry, happy tears like the day she got them back.
“That’s what this is?”
“Of course.”
She twirled a noodle around her fork tines and tastes. Flavors pop in her mouth: the onions and garlic she smelled earlier were caramelized but not burnt, adding layers of flavor to the tomato sauce. There was a hint of unctionness in it; she suspected a splash of cream, a pat of butter, or maybe both. The noodles were done, with just enough bite they didn’t disintegrate when bitten into. The sauce tasted like it took all day to come together, and maybe it did.
Edward hadn’t taken a bite yet. He watched her, nervous, eyes flicking back and forth between her mouth and her plate.
“Edward,” she almost moans. The tip of his ears turn red. “This is delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
He turned to his own food, eating but still sneaking peeks at her. Winry looked back, of course, which led her to notice Edward cut himself no bread even though she knew it was one of his favorites.
She leaned over the table for another piece, generously swiping on butter before handing it to him.
“For you! You need to taste it.”
He took two big bites, and smiled at her.
“Thank you, Winry.”
Of course , she thought but didn’t say, afraid to push him past what he’d already shown her. He had to know this was a turning point. That this was something different.
“Winry?”
Her eyes snapped back to him. She nodded, and he continued.
“How would you like to go on another date with me?”
She slurped a noodle into her mouth then licked the sauce off her lips. He stared at her, not because he thought she was gross or unladylike, but because he wanted her. She felt it in her bones, like she knew what she was meant to do with the rest of her life. Build limbs and love him, and have him love her back.
“I’d love to,” she said, and she meant that very much.