Written for Rose's confession challenge.
Alphonse suspects this sort of thing is only supposed to happen when you're older, but Mother has always said he's precocious. Besides, surely there can't be any harm? It's exactly like Mother told him about her and Father - just a little warm feeling right under his collarbone, every time they're in the same room. There's a proper order to these things, of course, but he can't quite recall what it is. So he goes to the authority on everything to ask.
"What do you do if you want to marry someone?"
His brother, nine years old but already with a grown-up's serious expression, considers the matter. "Well, first you have to give them a ring."
"What kind of ring?"
"Mm. I'm not sure. It has to be pretty, though."
Alphonse nods, just as serious. "Where did you put the book on metalwork?"
"You mean Mirror of Alchemy? It's in my room - Al? Why on earth - "
"I want do do this right," he says, and grins.
It seems strange for Alphonse to be working alone, but it would be awkward to ask his brother for help with this, and it is, after all, simple. He traces the chalk circle with unusual care, because this, after all, is important. Flowers, he decides. It'll have flowers on it.
He makes it out of an old tin spoon, a little tiny one he used to eat with when he was so small a regular soup spoon wouldn't have fit between his teeth. It only take a moment of effort, and then it's done, lying gleaming in the middle of the circle. He picks it up and grins.
Winry isn't hard to find. She's in the shop, as she usually is, tinkering with what looks like a wind-up dog toy. He approaches her somewhat hesitatnly, holding it behind his back.
She looks up as he pads in, squinting at the influx of light. "Al?"
"Um, Winry," he says, suddenly embarrased. "I, um." And he holds out the ring, looking suddnely very much eight years old.
Winry is silent for a moment, and then her face breaks out into an enourmous smile. "Oh, Alphonse," she says.
He could get used to hearing that, he thinks. For the rest of his life.