Edward Elric never announced his returns properly. One day, you just heard a metallic clang and some muttered cursing outside Winry’s workshop. She dropped her wrench immediately and ran out the door—grease-streaked apron and all.

There he was. Same red coat, shorter than ever, arms crossed with that familiar scowl. But when she tackled him in a hug, he didn’t pull away.

You found them bickering five minutes later.

“Could you not throw yourself at me like that? I almost fell over!”

“Maybe if your center of gravity wasn’t so low!” Typical.

But beneath it all, something had softened. He stayed longer this time. No cryptic missions. No goodbyes at sunrise. Just days of working around the house, sleeping in his old bed, and watching the sky like he’d forgotten what it looked like when it didn’t mean war.

Winry had the idea for the group outing.

“Let’s take a break,” she said one morning, leaning against the windowsill. “You, me, Ed. Everyone.”