Dating
Ed and Winry rarely went on 'dates.' After all, what would they do on them? What would they talk about? The two knew each other better than almost anybody; what was the point?
As a result, the only actual 'dates' they had were going out to eat, because that was the only activity in which Alphonse couldn't join them. Incidentally, this was, for once, a relief to Al, who at times couldn't help but feel like the only thing keeping these outings from turning awkward.
So now the two were left with some 'alone time' in a place where they couldn't really do anything they'd like to in an enclosed room at home. They would stuff their faces, though Ed was more deserving of that wording, in silence.
The kind of silence depended on the location. Lunch at a small cafe on the street brought with it a comfortable quiet, familiar and close. Dinner at a high scale restaurant in the city shrouded them in uncomfortable stillness, foreign and distant. Military men attended these places. Some of them would call to Edward and he would flush, sinking low in his seat, or yell back, in turn making Winry hide her face in embarrassment. It was hard enough talking Edward into this 'dating' business in the first place; this was making it worse.
But thank goodness for those street corner cafes. Where the only people who noticed them were the waitresses, who would giggle at how 'cute' they were. Which was still embarrassing, but not as bad.
The informality saved them. Ed would still eat like a pig and play with his straw, and Winry expected no more, no different. That was the boy she'd grown up with, had fallen in love with; she'd take him as he was.