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Ed looked away from the scenery speeding by outside his window. "Winry, what the hell kind of artwork gets you to ride a train willingly?"
Al, who was stretched out on the opposite bench, cracked one eye open. "Yeah, the last time we went to an art museum, you both declared it boring and left after ten minutes."
"That's because it was boring! Canvases and sculptures don't do anything! This is a unique fusion of art and mechanics. Form and function in motion!" Winry exclaimed. Ed imagined little hearts floating above her head.
"In other words, it's as close as the art world is ever going to get to putting automail on display," he said. The hearts burst.
She scowled at Ed. "You're one to talk, alchemy freak. You kept looking for dust to draw transmutation circles in."
"I was ten! And it's not my fault that what those idiots considered fine art didn't have enough spikes!"
Al sat up. "Brother, I think you're the only person alive who associates spikes with fine art."
"That's because I'm the only person alive with good taste," Ed said. Al and Winry started laughing. "Hey! Bastards."
"Actually, Winry, there was a movement in Xing about a hundred years ago that focused on mechanical art. Beautiful machines making beautiful things. It even spread to Amestris. You might like that," Al said after his laughter subsided.
Ed, sensing an opportunity to retaliate for his brother's comments about his questionable taste in aesthetics, opened his big mouth. "Look who's become the art expert ever since his girlfriend sent him a big book on Xingese art history."
"I keep telling you, she's not—"
"Liar!" Ed and Winry exclaimed in unison.
"And you two would know," Al muttered, rolling his eyes.
"What was that?" If there had been a wrench in the vicinity, Winry would have introduced it to his head.
"Nothing!"
"Next stop: Central City main train station. Please exit on the right," the loudspeaker crackled.
She grabbed both boys by the wrists. "Get moving or we'll miss our stop!"
As they exited the platform, the main hall spread out before them, with slick marble floors and high arched ceilings that made their footsteps echo. Winry released Al's wrist as she looked for something among the travelers.
"So, Winry," Ed began, hoping that she would remember to let his wrist go like she had Al's, "where's the museum where this contraption is on display?"
No such luck; her fingers tightened. "It's an audio-kinetic ball machine, not a contraption, Ed. And it's in the station where people will see it." Suddenly, her face lit up, and she grabbed Al's wrist again. "There it is!"
She pulled both of them to a huge glass case full of shiny chrome tracks and things that clanked and clicked and whirred and chimed. Large, brightly colored balls raced down the tracks and through the various obstacles before landing in cups attached to a vertical conveyor belt to begin their journey all over again. Even Ed had to admit to himself that it was kind of mesmerizing — so mesmerizing, in fact, that he forgot for a moment that Winry had yet to let go of his wrist. Al, however, seemed to find the installation far less interesting than either of them. He walked around it to give the whole display a quick inspection, paying far less attention to the moving parts than to his rather stationary brother and childhood friend.
Ed willed himself to continue looking at the machine rather than the cutely intense look on Winry's face as Al came back around to their side. A bead of sweat condensed at his temple. Alphonse Elric, whatever you do, don't look at our hands! he thought in a panic.
Al looked at their hands and grinned.
"Excuse me, I have to go... polish my cat," he mumbled as he slunk away.
"What the hell? Al! Get back here!" Ed hissed.
Winry snapped out of her trance. "Did you say something?"
Ed tried his damnedest not to concentrate on the gentle pressure of her fingers around his wrist. "Um, no, nothing."
"Where did Al go?"
To make arrangements for his impending funeral, I hope, he thought. Next time a certain panda-toting princess was in town, there would be hell to pay. "Shopping, I guess," he said, nodding towards the storefronts lining the opposite wall.
She harrumphed. "If he was going to run off like that, the least he could have done was offer to get snacks." Her shoulder nudged Ed's arm. He looked down at their feet. (Anything to avoid the possibility of eye contact, huh? snickered Al's voice in the back of his mind.) Was she aware of how close they were standing now? In fact, if she tilted her head just right, it would be on his shoulder—
Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon...
"Why are you muttering the elements, weirdo?"
Oops. "Um, the balls racing down the tracks and bumping into each other... they remind me of atoms a little bit. Kinetic energy."
"Hmm, I suppose. This machine's craftsmanship is amazing! I'm looking for all of the hidden levers and switches. There's one in the middle that's triggered by weight. Watch, when three balls land on it, it lowers and releases all three at the same time."
Click, click, clack, whoosh! The weight switch worked its magic once again, and in the background beyond it, he spotted Al conversing excitedly with an elderly flower merchant wearing a head kerchief... and was that a sparkle? His palms started to sweat as his brother delicately examined a red rose – maybe it's just a gift for May and he hasn't noticed how damn close we are standing right now and that Winry still hasn't let go of my wrist—
Every one of Ed's misguided hopes evaporated when Al turned around and pantomimed offering the rose to an invisible paramour like some kind of demented Prince Charming. At least a quick glance at Winry verified that she was still focused on visually dissecting the machine's intricacies and not on Al's performance. Her hand slipped down his wrist towards his palm. The drumbeat in his chest quickened. Al spotted an unfortunately too literal golden opportunity a few storefronts away. Ed gulped.
The next stop on the promenade was a bookstore with a placard in the front window announcing the long-anticipated arrival of a new romance novel. Call attention to that and your secret copy is going on display, Ed thought. Al kept walking.
He passed a stationery store and a tiny boutique without a second glance before ducking into a sweet shop. A little bit of the tension left Ed's shoulders at the thought of five minutes without Al's prying eyes on them. Maybe his real goal was the sweet shop after all, and not that... other store next door. Getting his body back seemed to give him all of Ed's appetite and then some, after all. Ed unconsciously edged a little bit closer to Winry; this handholding thing was kind of nice when they weren't being watched, he reluctantly admitted to himself.
The sweet shop door swung open, and Al strode out clutching a small bag of popcorn. He sat down on a bench in front of the shop and popped a kernel in his mouth with a flourish, staring at Ed the entire time. The tension returned to Ed's shoulders.
Winry looked up at him. "Ed? Is something wrong?"
"Al bought popcorn. For himself," he grumbled through clenched teeth.
She glared at Al as he popped the last piece of popcorn into his mouth. "No apple pie for him when we get home then."
He smirked at his brother as he threw away the empty bag. "Good." Winry returned her attention to the machine; Al returned to his journey to his ultimate destination: a plate glass window with "All That Glitters" painted in ornate gold letters across the top. A funeral dirge started playing in Ed's head when Al stopped to examine the various shimmering baubles on tiny velvet pillows.
Al turned around, and like an overly enthusiastic salesman showing off his wares, he gestured to the pairs of matching rings in the jewelry store window. Ed felt a flush creep up from his collarbone to his hairline. Nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium...
"Hello, Ed? What has you so distra—" She looked through the machine's glass enclosure to the display beyond it.
Aluminum, silicon, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, argon...
A wave of crimson flooded her face. "Your brother is a dead man."
"I have another idea. Do you remember that time he was shipped as cargo back to Resembool when he was still in the armor?"
"Of course. Granny's house smelled like sheep for days."
"How much do you think it will cost to ship him to May?"
Winry snickered. "Let's go to the post office on the way home and find out."
"I really do have the best girlfriend in the world."
"...Girlfriend?" They were still holding hands.
Oops.