a/n: so i made a post on my tumblr clarifying ed and winry's relationship in this particular fic (their relationship prior to the proposal, etc.) it totally not required to read, but i just like making things as clear as possible and it's pretty short but it just runs over the basics. i was going to add more, but the whole thing will probably be dished out later in the story sooo yep it's right here if you'd like to take a look!

a/n2: i quite liked writing this chapter, and you all might understand why, but i won't spoil anything.

enjoy!~

Dear Ed,

First off, I'm still surprised that you actually took the time out of your oh-so-busy schedule to write to me. I mean, I'm not about to complain, but I figured you only agreed to it to get me off your back, like usual. I guess you've been surprising me quite a bit recently, huh?

Do not make that a regular thing. I have worried about you and your idiotic endeavors enough to last me a lifetime. I don't want the next letter I receive to come from you locked up in some slimy Cretan infirmary, or worse, a penitentiary. I have a wrench right here with your name on it!

Anyways, Creta actually sounds kind of interesting, from how you're wording it. But you have always had a tendency to exaggerate. I mean aside from the blistering heat, that is. I didn't even think it was possible for temperatures to reach higher than Rush Valley. Just be careful, alright? Stay hydrated, and try not to go outside if it's really that hot. I don't want your automail burning off your flesh.

That would take forever to repair.

Oh, and I know that you said automail was pretty much a completely foreign concept, but if you come across any engineers, or mechanics, or prosthetics of any kind, I want to hear all about it! A book about Cretan appendages would be even better!

But it sounds like you're in good hands over there, which is comforting, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you get yourself into some kind of trouble.

By the way, you better be maintaining your leg. And if you break it, Edward, I swear. Just don't forget what I said about the wrench!

Although, it might be a little difficult to have a wedding if the groom is on his deathbed; whether it be by my hand or because of something you got yourself into over there.

Speaking of which, news of the proposal spread like wildfire back here. I have never received so much attention in my entire phone has been ringing off the hook for days, and, I swear, at least half the town has come to personally congratulate me (and comment on the absence of a certain ring on my finger, just so you know!) Not that many people have actually been surprised about our engagement, just a whole lot of 'Well, it was about time!' or 'Jeez, it took you two long enough!'.

I'm sure you won't mind, but I actually called Al a few days to tell him. He was relieved, more than anything; that makes two of us. He said that he'd been waiting for you to finally do it for ages now. When I told him how you did it, well, the smack of his hand colliding with his forehead was audible, let's just say that. But he's really happy for us, and he even asked when the date was! As if I'd thought that far in advance.

I mean, it all depends on when you complete your research, but I've always liked the idea of a spring wedding. But that might not work, I mean, there'd be pollen everywhere and I don't want you sneezing every three seconds. The summer's usually too humid, and winter'd probably be too cold, even if we rarely get snow. That leaves autumn, or spring again. I mean, that is assuming we have an outdoor ceremony, considering neither of us are too fond of churches.

…I guess I have put in a lot of thought, huh?

What do you think about it? We've gotta start somewhere, right? I mean, obviously I'd rather have you here to plan it with, but this will do for the time being.

It's so strange without you here, or Al. It's abnormally quiet; save for the well-wishers and customers, it's usually just Granny, Den, and I. I'd gotten so used to you guys always being around, it feels like a different world now. Not necessarily bad (it's nice not having you complain about chores), but it's going to take some getting used to.

Don't let it go to your head, but it's especially difficult at night. I didn't ever think for a moment I'd miss you snoring right in my ear, honestly, but I can hardly get to sleep without you.

I miss you, too. More than I thought I would, admittedly.

Well, I'm expecting a customer any minute now. I'm wondering how long it'll take for you to bust up your leg again; it better not be that soon!

Try to stay out of trouble, alright? And don't forget about maintenance!

Love,

Winry

—-

"Hey, kid!" Lou shouted, voice deep and raspy. The door behind him slammed shut, warding off the insane Cretan heat.

Ed looked up from his map of the vicinity as he sat at the bar of Lou's modest restaurant. No way he was going to stay locked up in that stuffy excuse for a closet while he was trying to review his plans.

Lou shuffled through a pile of mail, fingers settling on an envelope and sliding it down the length of the wooden counter to Ed. "Letter for ya," he said simply, placing the rest of the stack down and preparing to open the establishment for the day.

Ed reached for it, pulling it to him; perplexed for a second as to who, exactly, was writing to him. He'd only given the address he'd be staying at (or at least, the first place he'd be staying at) to a small handful of people.

He examined his name written in finely crafted cursive as a smile crept across his face. He didn't even need to read the return address; he knew that penmanship anywhere.

"You gonna open the thing or just stare at it with that dumb grin on your face? I need your help openin' up," Lou stated dryly.

Ed chuckled, carefully inserting his thumb under the flap of the envelope and lifting it from it's tightly sealed glue. "Ah, shut up, old man," he replied cockily. "It's from Winry."

Lou looked up from wiping down a nearby table. "You mean that pretty blonde you got waiting back home?"

Ed put the letter down, prepared to hold up on his end of the deal he'd made with Lou through the help of Colonel Bastard.

"Sure, you're welcome to stay with me! But you gotta help me out with my restaurant. Can't run the damn thing all by myself, now can I?"

He leaned over the bar, grabbing another rag from the sink and lept off the stool. "The very same," he answered, getting to work. The quicker he got this done, the quicker he could read the letter from his fiancée.

Lou paused, staring at the boy who'd very quickly made a name for himself in the bustling Cretan city. The kid was a smartass, and was quite stubborn and sarcastic; not to mention his short temper. But, damn, this kid was devoted. He'd only been staying with Lou, what, a few weeks at most? And there'd barely been a second this brat wasn't hunching over some map or book, or out digging up every single lead he come across about that alchemy stuff.

Mustang'd warned him about that; the brat was seriously dedicated.

Especially when it came to that mechanic of his. The kid rarely ever brought her up, but when he did, oh man. It was like he couldn't be stopped. And it wasn't even the mushy, coupley stuff. He didn't gush over her, with hearts in his eyes. He just talked and talked and talked about her; bragging about her work as an accomplished engineer at her age, boasting about her kind yet headstrong nature, even telling dumb little stories about her.

This kid was in deep for her.

Ed looked up from cleaning the bar. "What's with you?"

Lou blinked at him, laughing at the confusion on the young kid's face. "Nothin'. Just go read that letter from your girl and come back down when you're done."

Ed frowned, opening his mouth in protest before Lou gave him a stare that left no room for arguments. "Don't fight me on this, kid. If I make you wait, you'll just rush through opening the store and do it all half-assed. I won't have it. Just go read it upstairs and then get your ass back down here."

Ed smirked - the old guy put up a tough exterior, but he wasn't half bad once you got down to it. He didn't expect that; this guy being affiliated with Mustang, and all.

He leaned across the counter, grabbing the letter and tossing his signature grin at the shopkeeper "Thanks, old man! I owe you one!"

He barely heard the muffled 'no problem, kid' as he booked it up the musty stairs to the apartment; his focus was already preoccupied on his letter from a certain mechanic.