Sing to me, O Muse, of the embarrassment of Roy Mustang. Let us set the scene:

Everyone knew that Mustang couldn't be beat. With the possible exception of that fight with the Fullmetal Alchemist, but as Roy continually reminded them, that was a draw. A fluke. A weird, random happenstance. No chance that anything like that would ever happen again.

That is, until Maes Hughes decided to test that theory. He figured he was safe. Roy wouldn't actually torch him…not if he took precautions.

"Sure, Hughes, as long as you don't mind terribly when I beat you."

Hughes grinned. "Without alchemy."

Mustang didn't hesitate. "Done."

Almost immediately, the soldiers started taking bets. The combatants were offered the use of the parade grounds ("That way we won't need to worry about the collateral damage") and Havoc even went so far as to mark the date on his calendar. On the appointed day, Mustang's entire staff went out to the parade grounds and waited for the fight to begin. Hughes and Mustang took their places.

Roy Mustang was a soldier, trained to fight nearly from day one. He was muscular for someone his size and as determined as a pit bull. Light, agile, and used to combat. Maes Hughes spent most of his time sitting at his desk or stalking the hallways looking for helpless victims…I mean…lucky souls, yeah…to view the five thousand two hundred and ten pictures of his daughter Elicia.

It was incredibly one-sided.

Five minutes into the fight, an astonished Roy found himself lying on his back in the dust, his best friend on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

"Alright. Fine. You win," Roy said, trying unsuccessfully to push the other man off. "Now let me up."

Maes gave him a devilish grin. "No."

Roy's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I'm not letting you up," Maes said, still smiling that incredibly obnoxious smile, "until you…" He paused, during which Roy tried frantically to free himself without success. "Until you promise to get yourself a wife by New Year's."

"Fu. . . ." The curse cut off with a grunt as Maes landed a solid blow to the solar plexus.

"Tsk, tsk," Maes said, waving a finger at him. "Language, Roy. There's a lady present. No, you're right," he continued, as Roy growled and struggled harder, "maybe New Year's is a little sudden. I'll let you up . . . if you sing "I'm a Little Teapot." It's Elysia's favorite song!"

Roy froze and stared at him, appalled. "Go to hell."

"Oh come on Roy, you don't believe in hell."

"I'll make an exception just for you," Roy growled.

"I'm waiting," Maes said in a singsong voice. When no singing was forthcoming, he added, "I can sit here all day, you know. You're not going anywhere."

Roy gritted his teeth. He was painfully conscious of the men watching them from the sidelines. "I'm a little teapot…"

"Louder," Maes smirked. "I'm not sure they can hear you."

There was a short burst of profanity which left even the soldiers suitably impressed.

"Hey, you kiss your girlfriends with that mouth, Colonel?" Havoc called.

"No," Roy said. "Just yours."

"Well, Roy?" Maes interrupted hastily as Havoc stepped forward, fists clenched. "We're waiting."

Maes felt his friend tense, but then Roy just gave a resigned sigh. "You're really going to make me do this, Hughes?"

"Yep."

Roy sighed again. "Fine." His face flushed nearly as scarlet as Havoc's had. "I'm a little teapot, short and stout, here is my handle, here is my spout…"

He was actually mostly on key. Who knew the colonel could sing? "When I get all steamed up, hear me shout…"

"Heh, you can say that again," Breda chuckled.

Mustang paused to give him a venomous glare before continuing. "Tip me over and pour me…out!"

And with the final word, he slammed his hand down hard. The transmutation circle he had quietly been etching on the ground with his finger flared blue. The ground heaved, and Maes Hughes was hurled through the air right into the group of men standing on the sidelines. They all went down.

Wordlessly, Riza handed Roy his gloves.

"Hey, what'd I miss?"

Roy turned to see Edward Elric standing at the doorway to the courtyard, Al behind him. The blonde looked from the pile of soldiers on the ground to Mustang, who was pulling on his gloves with evident satisfaction.

"Oh, nothing much," Roy said airily. He walked over to where Maes Hughes was just waking up with a groan and reached inside the man's jacket. His hand emerged with a stack of photos; were he to flip through them, he knew he'd be treated to thirty or so repetitions of Elicia Hughes smiling hugely at the camera. He held up the top one, with the other hand prepared to snap. Maes' eyes widened with horror, and Roy Mustang's face split into a devilish grin.

"You're just in time to hear Major Hughes sing "I Feel Pretty."