Title: Eight Times The Trouble.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist.
Characters: Mustangettes, for the ignorant, that means Roy, Riza, Havoc, Falman, Fuery, Breda and occationally, Ed and Al.
Rating: R.
Genre: Humor.
Notes: jadedsilk suggested the theme. Snickers
Eight Times The Trouble.
The workings within an office, specially a military office, are often similar to a careful clockwork. The office that housed the group of people often known as Mustangettes was no exception. Specially in times of war when paperwork took a decidedly rabbit streak and reproduced viciously. Edward Elric and Jean Havoc took charge of making the reports, typing as fast as they could one sheet after the other. Vato Falman and Kain Fuery filed and sorted the reports in neat piles. Alphonse Elric took some of those piles and store them away in cabinets, while Riza Hawkeye took the rest to larger piles that were taken into the Lair of the Colonel. Heymans Breda just sat back watching as Al did what would normally be his work.
There was a screech from within the Colonel's office. A loud one.
Papers flew out of everyone's hands as they scrambled around. Recovering, Ed and Riza were the first people that stormed into the room, only to sweatdrop.
"Get it away, get it away, get it away!" Mustang backed against a wall, short of whimpering in fright as a large ball of legs and hair slid slowly towards him. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be Sheska's pet tarantula, conveniently named 'Legs'. Mustang pressed himself tightly against his corner, eyes wide as saucers..
"That's all? A fucking spider?" Ed growled.
"Edward, be kind," Fuery said in a conciliatory tone, "Everyone has a right to have a fear, we don't know what the Colonel has gone through."
"Yeah... but," Havoc look doubtfully at the grey arachnid, watching it crawl up the leg of the comatose Colonel, "Spiders are not frightening... just... gross."
"I think they're cute."
There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at Al with varying degrees of skeptisism, before they turn back to the trouble at hand. Namely, Mustang's arachnophobia.
'Legs' rubbed itself merrily against Roy. Roy made a pathetic panic induced noise.
"That's it, I'm gonna shoot it," Hawkeye said with an irritated huff, taking out her gun.
"No!"
Everyone launched themselves against her in what in rugby is generally called 'gang tackle'. Squeaking a bit herself, she winced when the window shattered as she shot it accidentlly. There was an awkward moment as everyone blinked and tried to realize where they were. Then, chaos.
"Get off me!"
"Don't touch my gun!"
"Ow! Al! You're heavy!"
"Stop tugging my braid!"
"Get off Breda!"
"Hey!"
"Ouch! Havoc! You're not supposed to smoke here, that burns!"
'Legs' kept crawling up to Roy's lap. He was past white. He looked transparent.
"Shouldn't we get it off?" Fuery mused once they were back on their feet and Ed and Riza had stopped threatening them.
"Sure," Havoc snorted, still mourning his lost cigarette, "If you want to touch that, go ahead."
There was a murmur of unease as they all watched with morbid fascination as the tarantula inched its way past Roy's lap.
"I think I'll transmutate it into something else," Ed said finally, cracking his knuckles.
Gang tackle; take two.
"Oh for fuck's sake!"
"Ed!"
"Get off!"
"You're stepping on my hand!"
"OW!"
"What the-"
"Don't touch me!"
The ensuring fight was broken by the sound of a bell, announcing lunch. Sighing in content, the Mustangettes happily trotted away to eat, completely forgetting about the reason they had been fighting in the first place.
Alone in a corner of his office, Roy made small noises and twitched funnily as 'Legs' settled on his hair.
He whimpered again.
