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whiskeycoffeeTitle: Fishing
Pairing: Ed/Winry
Prompt: Eight, Net, Soup
Wordcount: 356
Rating: Kidsafe
Warnings: Mushiness
Notes: Gah, now I wanna have seafood for dinner.
“They say this soup has eight different kinds of fish in it,” Winry said, looking down at her bowl. She and Ed hadn’t looked at each other for more than five seconds together since they’d gotten to the restaurant.
Ed, for his part, was toying nervously with the net that served as a kind of tablecloth, tangling it around his fingers and releasing it again. He’d never imagined things could be this stilted between him and Winry - ever. But apparently, first dates were awkward no matter who you had them with.
“Well, if you only find seven, we’ll see if they’ll give our money back,” Ed muttered, trying for a joke.
Winry smiled, but weakly, and Ed fixed his gaze on his fingers, swallowing hard.
Suddenly, her hand was on his and he looked up, startled.
“Ed,” she said, her voice soft and warm, “Maybe this isn’t us. Maybe...”
Ed’s heart dropped like an ice cube into his stomach, and it must have shown in his face because Winry wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed, hurrying to say, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant - maybe this ‘dressing up and going to dinner’ isn’t... isn’t what we’re like. I’m not...” She sighed and looked down at herself. “I’m not a fancy lady, Ed. I’m... I’m a mechanic, and I like being a mechanic. You don’t need to take me out to expensive restaurants to impress me.”
Ed looked at her across the table, wonder in his eyes, and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a grateful kiss against her fingers. Fancy lady or not, there was no other way to respond to that.
She blushed prettily, and he thought suddenly that maybe he was getting the hang of this dating-his-best-friend thing. “Thank you,” he said quietly. After a moment, he cleared his throat and grinned, “So what you’re telling me is that you’d like to get out of here and go shopping in a hardware store?”
She giggled and took her hand back from him so she could take another bite of gumbo. “After dinner,” she amended. “This really is good soup.”
Pairing: Ed/Winry
Prompt: Eight, Net, Soup
Wordcount: 356
Rating: Kidsafe
Warnings: Mushiness
Notes: Gah, now I wanna have seafood for dinner.
“They say this soup has eight different kinds of fish in it,” Winry said, looking down at her bowl. She and Ed hadn’t looked at each other for more than five seconds together since they’d gotten to the restaurant.
Ed, for his part, was toying nervously with the net that served as a kind of tablecloth, tangling it around his fingers and releasing it again. He’d never imagined things could be this stilted between him and Winry - ever. But apparently, first dates were awkward no matter who you had them with.
“Well, if you only find seven, we’ll see if they’ll give our money back,” Ed muttered, trying for a joke.
Winry smiled, but weakly, and Ed fixed his gaze on his fingers, swallowing hard.
Suddenly, her hand was on his and he looked up, startled.
“Ed,” she said, her voice soft and warm, “Maybe this isn’t us. Maybe...”
Ed’s heart dropped like an ice cube into his stomach, and it must have shown in his face because Winry wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed, hurrying to say, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant - maybe this ‘dressing up and going to dinner’ isn’t... isn’t what we’re like. I’m not...” She sighed and looked down at herself. “I’m not a fancy lady, Ed. I’m... I’m a mechanic, and I like being a mechanic. You don’t need to take me out to expensive restaurants to impress me.”
Ed looked at her across the table, wonder in his eyes, and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a grateful kiss against her fingers. Fancy lady or not, there was no other way to respond to that.
She blushed prettily, and he thought suddenly that maybe he was getting the hang of this dating-his-best-friend thing. “Thank you,” he said quietly. After a moment, he cleared his throat and grinned, “So what you’re telling me is that you’d like to get out of here and go shopping in a hardware store?”
She giggled and took her hand back from him so she could take another bite of gumbo. “After dinner,” she amended. “This really is good soup.”
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