Winry peered in the mirror, pulling her hair up then dropping it so it fell over her shoulders. Her sigh echoed around the room.
"What?" Edward asked.
"I hate my hair."
He blinked. "You what?"
"I. Hate. My. Hair." Winry turned to him as she spoke. The scowl on her face said she wasn't kidding. "I think I'm going to cut it."
Edward realized he stood in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, before he had a conscious thought to actually move. "Winry."
"Ed." Winry cocked an eyebrow up at him. It didn't dissolve her scowl.
"I like your hair."
A hand wave dismissed his opinion. "Guys always say that."
Swallowing down the jealous part that insisted he ask, "What guys!?", Edward cupped Winry's cheek. He scrubbed his fingers lightly across her temple. Threading a few strands around his fingers, Edward stroked down to the end of her hair. "Your hair is beautiful." Al would probably be able to say this better but Alphonse Elric was not Winry's husband. "You're beautiful. You'll always be beautiful to me. If you really want to cut your hair." He gulped. "Go ahead. But if it's 'cause you think it's getting in your way, I'll - I'll braid it for you. Every day. For the rest of our lives."
Winry took a deep breath. "Ed?"
He rumpled her bangs before leaning down to give her a kiss. "Every day."
Winry didn't cut her hair. Neither did her daughters. And they all wore their hair in plaits that Edward braided whenever they asked.