A piece of happy genfic for anyone interested.
Taking Delight
by Maaya
Snow is beautiful; large soft flakes that settles comfortably on the ground, covers the sidewalk and forces people to plod through it on their way to school or work. Central is not a city that usually gets snow, not many residents knows how to dress properly for the occasion. Few shops do even bother to sell good winter clothes.
Mustang's boots are comfortable and to a certain degree waterproof. However, they are not made to stand up to snow. Mustang's feet are already doing a good imitation of ice-cubes and he's got another five-hundred meters to go before he reaches the warmth of his own office.
Usually, Hawkeye would have come by to pick him up in a car but she had called him this morning to say, very sorry sir, the car doesn't start, too cold. And that is the reason why Mustang finds himself plodding though the cold, spiteful white substance this morning.
When a snowball hits the back of Mustang's head, he firmly decides that he really doesn't like snow.
It gets in under his collar and melts, ice-cold water trickles down his spine. Mustang himself sees stars out of pure surprise. It takes a few moments before he regains his composure and stands upright, brushing snow out of his hair. He attempts to look nonchalant as he glances around to find the culprit.
He spots Fullmetal a few metres away, hands in his pockets and looking entirely too innocent. Mustang frowns at him and Fullmetal raises his eyebrows as if to say, who, me? Never!
Mustang doesn't hesitate very long before grabbing a handful of snow. His only argument against this is that it would be childish, but it was Fullmetal who started it, dammit.
His snowball brushes Fullmetal's cheek. The boy's eyes widen, he throws himself to the ground and the snowball-fight quickly develops into an open war.
Half an hour later, they trudge into the office together, cheeks glowing red from cold, clothes icy and wet. Both are panting. Fullmetal is picking out snow from his braid. Mustang shrugs out of his coat and jacket; half-melted pieces of ice fall out from under his shirt.
Hawkeye closes her mouth on the reprimand on their late arrival. She sighs and shakes her head instead, hiding her amusement well. Boys will always be boys, she guesses. Even the grown-up ones.
end