Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

Other: This was just a random, explosive idea that came to my mind after four days on the road, and numerous glances at "No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service," signs. Due to the humorous nature of this story, don't expect any extreme, in-character stuff. xD;

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No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service

It all started on a quiet, Central day, where the wind was blowing lazily through the tall buildings, and the birds were singing, chirping, and fluttering to the dance of the sun and the shadows. People talked busily to themselves, discussing plans for the day, animatedly joking to one another, and walking from store to store, in hopes of finding whatever they were looking for.

But, alas, it was these days Envy hated.

There were plenty of reasons he hated days like this; it was easy to hate bright sunny, chipper, rainbow days. First of all; there were people everywhere. How was he supposed to get around, outside of the shadows – which were quickly disappearing in the noon-time sun – without being noticed? His appearance wasn't quite idealistic for a normal day like this – a boy, half naked, with long, green hair? Of course that wouldn't attract any attention.

Second; he'd forgotten somewhere along the lines that he could just change into somebody else. This was a cause of great strife, because now he was stuck behind a particularly smelly dumpster, in a particularly well-lit alley, wondering what the hell to do. And should he decide to turn into somebody else – he couldn't turn into a man. Not that he had a problem turning into women, he'd done it before, but just today. There was something about today that just boasted that the world hated him. And only him.

It was Lust's idea that he get out of the mansion for a while; though the specific details to her suggestion were entirely crude. He was supposed to shop? Why him? She needed things that he hadn't heard of – ever – let alone seen. How was he supposed to know what size bra she wore? Hell, what were the sizes of bras? Envy pondered this with much disgust as he watched the shadows creep to the far recesses of the alley, searching for a damp, cold place where the sun wasn't.

"God damn shadows," He mumbled, glaring in disgust at them. "You can get yourself out of anything." He pondered for a moment. "I can't."

And then the jealousy set in. With such force that he couldn't bother stand in the alley any longer, by the nasty dumpster, so he ran out into the open street, where people in a three-person radius around him stopped to clear way. Halfway down the block, he slowed to a walk, trying to ignore the some-curious, some-scared, some-disapproving stares of the women on the street by reminding himself why he hated days like this.

The sun, for one, it's everywhere. It doesn't help that it's noon, either. And the birds, those mother fucking birds. Why can't they leave me alone?

It was, at that moment, that a tired mother robin swooped down into Envy's hair, mistaking him for a tree. He raised a partially gloved hand and waved above his head, and when the bird didn't move, he brought the other one up and proceeded to pry the tired mother bird from his hair, and throw her in front of a group of young women.

"Look at him, he just threw that bird!" One of them exclaimed in horror.

"Yeah… Poor bird, it only thought he was a tree." Another one chided, nodding.

The third one walked over and picked the bird up, cuddling the mother robin that was much too tired to realize a person – maybe a hungry one – was holding it.

Envy ignored them to the best of his abilities and stopped at a sign that said "Convenience Store, That Way" with an arrow pointing down a road.

Convenient. He thought humorlessly. So he turned down the road that the arrow indicated, stopping in front of a run-down looking store. There were signs on the window, sporting which beers it sold, if it was open, business hours, and one particularly interesting sign that said, "No shirt, no shoes, no service."

"Fuck that," He said defiantly as he opened the door with such force he was afraid it might have broken off. Indignantly he stormed to the far end of the store. It was big – for a convenient store – and had everything. It had food, although he'd never touch anything bought from a place that smelled so… human – it had over the counter drugs, beer, beverages of all sorts, and even a small section dedicated to clothing. Cheap clothing, of course, with over-priced tags, but clothes, none the less.

What would Lust care if he bought a bra that was cheap?

Nothing.

That's what.

Does she even wear bras? He thought to himself as he trudged through the back of the store, examining the even smaller section dedicated to undergarments. There were a few sizes of lady's panties, a smaller spectrum of men's boxers and whitie tighties, and an even more miniscule section of bras.

"Uh…" He stared in horror at some of the sizes, which were enormous, so big in fact, that he wondered how anybody could have a bust big enough to fit into the cups, and not fall forward whenever they walked. Must be a bunch of fat people, He eventually reasoned as he inched closer to the rack, sticking a hand out to keep himself away should one decide to bite.

"First time?" A man asked from a little ways down the aisle, looking at a box of something Envy didn't care to know about. He gulped, became disgusted for being such a wuss, and snatched the largest cupped one from the rack, flipping the cardboard at the top, trying to figure out what size Lust might be.

"Bust size?" His stomach did a flop as he stared at the inches. "Right."

The man chuckled as he put the box back and looked at another. Envy decided that Lust would have, at least, had to have been a double d, whatever that was, and she was curvy – so what size would her ribs be? Something small… Maybe a thirty-four? Deciding that was right, he searched for a 34-double-d, and only found one.

"Great," He mumbled, staring at the bra in disgust. Holding it an arms length from his body, he walked down the aisle, past the older man.

"I think that might be a few sizes too big…" He suggested in a helpful way – or a way that would have been helpful if Envy intended the bra for himself. Which, he was pretty sure, it wasn't.

"It's not for me!" He growled, turning on heel and glaring at the man. He just laughed and picked up another box. Becoming easily irritated, and already pissed off for having to shop for something as stupid as a bra that Lust would never, ever, use, he stormed up to the counter, where a fat, balding man with a white undershirt with ugly brown sweat stains, was standing.

"Here," He growled as he threw the article of clothing onto the counter. The man scratched his bulging stomach, eyed Envy for a moment, and turned to the room behind the counter. "Uhuhm, Frank, could you come here?"

"What is it now, Bob?" A man came from a closed door, looking just as nasty as the balding man. Except Frank had a tall hat on, and a coat that looked three sizes too big, and was this terribly funky purple color. He also had a cane, with an expensive looking jewel at the top.

"Take a look at this…" The man paused, and tried to look for identifying features to tell Envy's gender, which pissed him off more.

"Man! I'm a man!" He yelled after a moment, slamming his fist into the counter, leaving small cracks in the glass. Bob only burped.

"Man, right." He grabbed a cigarette from a pocket and lit it, then lit Frank's cigar, which happened to come out of nowhere. Frank was starting to remind Envy of Greed, only because of the clothes he wore – which was making Envy even angrier. "Anyway, look at… it's shirt. Is that a shirt. And you're not wearing shoes."

"I am wearing…" He started yelling, but looked down at his feet, his toes wiggling in response. "And this is a shirt!" He rebounded.

"You see, young man, that is only half of a shirt, and your feet have toe-less socks, so, no, you aren't wearing a shirt and shoes. We can't help you."

"I…" He fumed, becoming angrier. "Just ring it up."

"Did you," Bob snorted, "Read the sign? You dumb bitch, it says, 'No Shirt, no shoe…'."

"Yes! I can read the fucking sign!"

People were starting to gather outside the store, cheering for sides, which persisted of; The Pimp and the Beer Bellied Shop Owner – and the Palm Tree Headed boy. All of which pissed Envy off even more.

"Just… Buy… The thing," He motioned to the bra.

"And, young… Man, this bra is much to big for you." Frank said with a sneer, which made Envy want to punch him out even more.

"I… Am not buying it for me."

"Significant other?"

"What?" What the hell was a significant other, anyway?

"You might want to try our lingerie, if that's the case."

"It… Is… Not for me. Or anybody. Or. No, it is, but…" Envy stopped and groaned, grabbing the bra by the hanger, throwing the money Lust had given him on the ruined counter, and proceeded to run outside into the crowd of enthusiasts.

"Well, the sign did say it," Bob defended.

"Yes, I know." Frank comforted as he took the money and counted it.

By the time Envy got back, his anger had almost drained completely – the bra and convenient store incident made him forget the smaller, more trivial aspects of the day that pissed him off. Like the happy sun, the birds, the butterflies, and the people. And he'd gotten back in half the time it had taken him to get to the store.

"Here." He shoved the bra into Lust's hands, his head bowed.

"Envy…" Lust said quietly, examining the bra. "Where did you buy this?"

"I don't know, some stupid store," He raised an eyebrow and looked up at her, a hand on his hip. "Why?"

"…Because," She sighed, handing it back to him, "It's not the right size. You have to return it."

Envy stared at her in horror for a moment, shaking his head. "No, don't make me go back!"

At that moment, Dante walked into the room, addressing the situation. "Did he get my bra?"

Envy stared, in even more horror.

"No," Lust sighed, "He got the wrong size."

Before Dante could ask him to get the right size, Envy bolted out of the room, nearly trampling Wrath, who was on his way in.

"Wrath… Could you do me a favor?"

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Omg: Yay, it wasn't that funny, but whatever. Review.