Nice long chapter, as promised! This is actually the longest one yet, so I hope it's a little more satisfying. I have two more similarly long ones coming up that are both aaaalmost done, because I work best completely out of chronological order, but this one's hot off the presses. It's less thematic and more just plot, but it's fun and it gets us to the next two, which are very fun and I'm super psyched.

Thank you once again for your wonderful reviews! It makes me so happy to know you guys are enjoying these.

Song for this one is "Threshold Apprehension" by Frank Black, which I think kind of speaks for itself as long as you don't listen too close to the lyrics about "Grand Marnier and a pocketful of speed", which do not factor into this story. Anyway:

Talk to the man just to get a little work
Then you talk to the hand just to get a little jerk
Some people die, then they start to get old
But I don't wanna die upon the threshold

I got threshold apprehension

Have drink, press button, seventh floor,
And wait a hundred years for the elevator door
Come a time when you wanna lose the tension
Ain't your first time having threshold apprehension

"Winry!" Ed called, knocking on the hotel room door. "It's me—are you ready to go?"

He was out of uniform now—and very relieved about it—and had changed into the official One Nice Outfit that Alphonse had convinced him to buy for himself when he'd been sent (with very strict instructions and Ross and Brosh as supervision) to get some new clothes for his younger brother before they both headed home from the hospital after the Promised Day. It was just black pants, a black belt, a white shirt, a black vest and a black tie—very plain, since Maria had vetoed almost everything cool he'd tried to buy. But the vest, at least, had something going for it. It was made from a silky brocade fabric, and it didn't show up from a distance, but up close, in the right light, it had a pattern of swirling shapes, swords and snakes that was very much in line with Ed's taste. It had also come with a silk pocket square with the same pattern, in red, but Ed had lost it almost immediately.

"Coming!" came Winry's muffled voice from inside the room. A moment later the door swung open, and for a split second Ed's mind went completely blank.

In his defense, he'd last seen Winry in this very spot about nine hours ago, and she'd been wearing green and white pinstriped pyjamas and her usual early-morning scowl. But now she was wearing a deep yellow dress made out of some kind of floaty, gauzy fabric, cinched in at the waist with a silk ribbon and flaring out from there, the full skirt reaching just past her knees. (According to the lady at the shop Winry had bought it from that afternoon, it was a honey-yellow cotton-lined chiffon tea-length sleeveless A-line with a sweetheart neck and a built-in crinoline, but the terminology had been lost on her.) Her hair had been swept up into a smooth knot off to one side, and her bangs fell softly across her forehead a little more elegantly than usual. She had a very tiny black purse hanging from her wrist by a little strap.

Edward blinked.

"What?" Winry said, and suddenly she was wearing her usual early-evening scowl. "You left without giving me any details, so if this isn't fancy enough—"

"No, no," Ed said, clearing his throat. "It's fine. It's great. You'll just, um," he paused. "You'll probably want a jacket."

"Oh," Winry said, partially mollified. She grabbed her plain black jacket and slung it over her arm. "Okay, now I'm good to go."

Ignore the dress, Ed ordered himself silently. Ignore it and be normal. It's still just Winry. You see Winry every single day.

He forced his face into what he hoped was a casual half-smile. "Come on, there's a car for us downstairs."

From the minute they stepped into the car to the minute they stepped out of it, the driver had talked incessantly about times he was absolutely one hundred percent positive he'd seen a ghost, of which there were at least eight. Neither Ed nor Winry said much of anything the entire ride, not that they could get a word in edgewise; they just glanced at each other periodically throughout the impromptu Ghost Tour of Central City.

As soon as the car drove off, Winry caught Ed's eye. "Either that guy was nuts," she said, "or we're going to find out he's been dead for seven years and he was a ghost."

"Eh, I've had weirder drivers," Ed said, grinning. "One time in East City there was this guy who had what looked like one of those alligator skin bags sitting in the front seat…"

"Kind of girly, but not that weird."

"That's what I thought too," he continued, "but then halfway through the ride it moved, because it was a live baby alligator."

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah, I still wonder about that one. Anyway," Ed said, "we're here!"

The restaurant was pretty fancy, with shining pressed-metal ceilings, velvet curtains on all the windows, expensive-looking art on the walls and silk-draped tables all lit with candles. Taking a quick glance at the clientele Winry was relieved to see that it looked like she'd hit the mark dress-code-wise, but it was still a little intimidating. There definitely weren't places like this in Resembool.

"Oh, wow," Winry said. "Are you sure they'll even let us into a place like this?"

"Hey, if they'll let Havoc in they'll let anybody in," Ed replied. "This place is supposed to have really good food, but it's not one of those snobby places where they give you five different forks and make a face at you if you use the wrong one. Plus, don't forget I'm a distinguished guest of the Fuhrer President, and you're with me, so that makes us both distinguished, I'm pretty sure."

"If you say so," Winry said, grinning.

They walked in side by side and stopped at the host stand.

"Good evening, sir and madam," the host said warmly. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yeah, we do—under Edward Elric?"

"Ah, of course," she replied. "The rest of your party is already here; if you'll follow me, your table is right this way." She started to lead them through the dining room, and they started to follow.

"Thank y—wait, the rest of my party?"

"Yes," the host replied. "We received a call from your office with instructions to change your reservation from two to seven, so your table is right around the corner."

"A call from—" Ed abandoned his sentence as they rounded the corner and he laid eyes on the table where Breda, Fuery, Havoc, Hawkeye and Mustang were sitting, all in civilian dinner attire. "—You!"

"Hey, Fullmetal," Mustang said dryly, a piece of fancy restaurant bread in his hand. "Glad to see you could make it."

The host disappeared back around the corner almost immediately, leaving a furious Ed and a bemused Winry standing by the table.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?!"

"Come on, Chief," Havoc said. "You can't just tell us exactly where you're going for dinner and expect us not to crash it."

"I actually did expect that, oddly enough," Ed said, scowling.

"You should know better, big guy," Breda said, smirking. "Our intel comes with strings attached."

"Yeah, it's an equivalent exchange," Havoc added.

Ed slapped a hand across his forehead and groaned. "You guys are the worst."

"For the record, I thought we were invited," Fuery said.

Ed and Winry both sat down in the two empty chairs opposite one another at the end of the table, next to Hawkeye and Mustang.

"Alright, you meddling jerks," Ed said. "You guys remember Winry?"

She smiled and waved, ignoring Ed's indignant rage completely.

"I'm not sure that you three ever officially met Winry," Hawkeye said, "but she was an essential part of our success over the past few years, and especially during the leadup to the Promised Day incident."

Winry blushed. "Oh, no, I just did what anybody would do in my position," she said, looking down at her menu.

"Hey, no need to be modest," Mustang said. "Between keeping this guy up and running—" he pointed to Ed next to him— "and escaping your own hostage situation, you really helped us out."

Winry smiled. "Well, somebody has to keep Ed in line, and next to Al I've got the most experience."

Havoc, Breda and Fuery introduced themselves, and she shook their hands.

"So you've known Ed pretty much forever, right?" Breda asked.

"Yep, ever since we were little."

"So you must know all the dirt on him then, eh? Care to regale us with a story or two?"

"Actually," Winry replied, with a devilish glance at Edward, "I was going to ask you guys the same thing. Ed and Al almost never told me anything about what they were up to while they were traveling, so I'd love to hear some firsthand accounts."

Across from her, Ed reddened, shooting the men at the other end of the table a disgruntled look.

"Boy, oh boy," Havoc said, leaning back in his chair and stroking his beard in mock thought. "Where to begin?"

The embarrassing story exchange went on all the way until the entrées arrived. Winry was making no attempt to hide her amusement, and she smiled maddeningly at Edward as the waitress set down their plates.

"Yeah, you're laughing now," Ed said, scowling over his thyme-braised duck leg with pancetta, chanterelles and roasted red potatoes. "But just you wait until we go to Rush Valley and I tell all your work friends about all the embarrassing crap you used to pull."

"Ooh, I'm shaking in my boots," she replied, not batting an eye as she twirled a piece of rosemary-leek-butternut-squash linguini onto her fork. "Not all of us have such a checkered past."

"Oh, so you don't remember that time you fell asleep on top of a fresh automail blueprint, and got sent home early from school the next day because the teacher thought you had some kind of contagious skin fungus?"

"You and Al started that rumour and you know it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about! I just remember the teacher seeing a girl with horrifying blue blotches on her face and taking swift, appropriate action to stop a potential outbreak of Cyanotype Syndrome."

"I know you guys were the ones who made up that name!"

"Hey, all I did was—" Ed paused long enough to actually get a forkful of food into his mouth, and the rest of his sentence was replaced with an appreciative grunt. "Oh my god, this is good."

Winry followed suit, taking a bite of her pasta, and her eyes widened. "Holy crap, you're not kidding."

"Told ya!" Havoc called from the other end of the table, his mouth half full of potatoes.

Halfway through the entrees Winry got up to go to the bathroom, and for reasons completely lost on Edward, Lieutenant Hawkeye went with her.

As soon as the women disappeared around the corner, Mustang immediately reached his fork across the table and stole a piece of wild-boar-and-elk sausage from Hawkeye's plate, to general astonishment.

"Jeez, Roy, you really do like playing with fire," Havoc said. "Even as a civilian I still wouldn't cross Hawkeye for a second."

"Yeah, that seems like the kind of mistake you only get to make once," Breda added.

"What, are you guys going to rat me out?" Mustang replied, eyebrows raised.

"Nope," Breda said, "but you're still gonna get caught. Hawkeye probably had an exact mental count of precisely how many chunks of sausage were on that plate before she left, the sauce pattern, the exact position of the little fennel sprinkles."

"Yeah, and you're just sitting there with a motive and opportunity," Ed said, smirking.

"Who's to say she'll even be mad?" Mustang said, his tone defensive. "Maybe…maybe I give her one of my roasted cherry tomatoes, and it's a fair trade?"

The other four men scoffed loudly in unison.

"Okay, okay," Mustang conceded. "Worst case, I buy her dessert."

"Worst case you get your lunch poisoned on Monday, more like," Breda supplied.

"Anyway," Mustang continued, ignoring his subordinate, "on to the matter at hand."

"The matter at hand?" Ed asked, taking a sip of his water.

"Yup," Mustang said, and suddenly he, Fuery, Havoc and Breda were all staring intently at Edward.

"Uh—what—"

"Alright, spill it, chief," Havoc said. "Are you—or are you not—on a date with your mechanic friend right now?"

Ed immediately and spectacularly choked on his water, dissolving into a coughing fit that lasted a full minute.

"Why would you say that?!" he gasped when he finally surfaced again, his face beet-red.

"I mean, it's a fair question, Fullmetal," Mustang said.

"Yeah," Fuery added. "You did get all dressed up to bring her to one of the best restaurants in the city, after all."

"And this is specifically one of the best date restaurants in the city," Havoc said.

"Wait, it is?"

"Yeah, I thought that's why you asked me for advice!"

"I also asked Breda and Hawkeye and they both said this place was great; don't tell me the Lieutenant is going on secret dinner dates here or something too."

"I can't really picture that, I gotta say," Fuery said.

"Whatever," Ed said, flustered. "It's not a date, I just wanted to take Winry somewhere nice to make up for the fact that the last time she came to Central was a gigantic nightmare."

"When was the last time she was in Central?" Fuery asked.

"That two weeks last fall when you guys fake-murdered Lieutenant Ross, set Barry the Chopper on the loose, nearly got killed by the Homunculi three or four times, and Winry ended up coming face-to-face with Scar with a gun in her hand?" Ed spat.

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I kind of have some ground to make up. Anyway," he said, his tone normalising again, "if you guys thought this was supposed to be a date, what the hell are you all doing crashing it?!"

"Why do we do anything in our off-hours?" Mustang said, grinning. "For fun and profit, obviously."

"Wait, profit?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, we may have a bit of a betting pool going," Breda said.

"You what?!"

"Hey, hey," Havoc said. "Letting him in on it could skew the results!"

"Yeah, I'll skew your results," Ed muttered. "Anyway, it's not a date, so you guys are out of luck."

"Now, hold on," Mustang began.

"What?" Ed snapped.

"This is your long-time childhood friend, a girl your own age, who's had your back basically your entire life."

"Uh. Yeah."

"And you've carefully planned a special evening for just the two of you, for the express purpose of making sure she has a good time and likes you better afterward."

"I mean, I guess."

"And she doesn't have, I don't know, some other thick-skulled teenage boy kicking around who's already taking her on quaint romantic strolls among the crops back east, does she?"

"What? No. I mean, I don't think so."

"And—well, I don't mean to stereotype just because she's an automail engineer, but she's not, you know, playing for the same team as we are, so to speak?"

"I—what?"

Havoc and Breda both snorted, while Mustang covered half his face with his palm and sighed.

"Fullmetal, how is this not a date?"

"Wha—listen, you matching set of asshats. Just because I decide to take Winry to a nice restaurant and the movies doesn't mean—"

"Wait," Breda interrupted. "You're taking her to the movies after this?"

"Yeah, there's a show at nine-thirty," Ed said, still defensive. "Why? What the hell's the big deal about the movies? Me, Al and Winry used to go every month back in Resembool when the projector guy came through town."

"Oh, kid," Havoc said, shaking his head. "You seriously don't hear it?"

"Dinner and a movie, Fullmetal," Mustang said. "I'm pretty sure that's the example they give in the dictionary when you look up what a date is."

Havoc snorted again. "You do a lot of looking things up in reference books before you go on dates, Roy?"

"Focus, Havoc, we're making fun of Ed right now."

"Right. Sorry, boss."

"So, wait," Fuery said. "What does this do to our betting odds if he's still in denial?"

Ed roared in frustration, then bent over his plate and focused on eating in irritated silence until Winry and Riza came back to the table.

More soon! Couple of notes:

I got that thyme-braised duck leg dish from a real recipe online on Food and Wine, and it sounds reeeeally good (if a little time-consuming), so if anybody has the energy to make it, please google accordingly, cook, eat and report back.

Falman isn't here because he's too busy up north; I didn't forget him!

I spent way too long googling pictures of pretty yellow dresses while writing this.

At a later date I will probably write another one-shot to fill in the embarrassing stories the gang told about Ed, as well as what Winry and Riza were talking about in the ladies' room. But next up will be THE MOVIES. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!