Title: Uniformed Disorders
Prompt/Inspiration: Military Yard Sale (Provided by Tusca Lusca, a good friend of mine)
Summary: It was a perfectly fine day until the colonel picked up that sheaf of paper. Naturally, all his subordinates, inclusive of a certain two wandering alchemists, were dragged into the fray. Everything went downhill from then on.
Pairings: Mild RoyAi, hinted EdWin, if you squint
Category: Humour/Drama
Rating: T
Warnings: Alchemical violence. Slight swearing. Insults-hurling between a certain pair of State Alchemists. Partial nudity and stripping on Armstrong's part.
Co-authored by Tusca Lusca, who kindly provided some scenarios and tweaked the plot to make it coherent. This is mostly in the mangaverse with a few adjustments here and there, so there might be slight spoilers (say, episode 13 of the anime or 'Military Festival' of volume 3). I guarantee nothing major.
Disclaimer: Quetz does not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Roy Mustang, Edward Elric & co. belong to Hiromu Arakawa, and I am merely borrowing them for entertainment purposes.
A/N: Well, after lurking around for goodness-knows-how-many-years, I've finally plucked up the courage to write a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfic. I hope you can find as much joy in it as I had when writing it.
Part I: The Days Before
It was a typical morning at the Central Headquarters of the Amestris State Military. The day had barely begun, but since it was in the middle of a working week, many soldiers were already present in the compound, and could be seen performing their duties. Those of lower ranks scurried about, doing odd jobs for the officials and higher-ups of the military. Some, as sentries, stood at guard by the gates, saluting any high-ranker stiffly before assuming their previous stances. Humming and whirling noises came from the garage, where cars were being started up in preparation of the watch units' daily patrols of the city. Gunshots rang out from the shooting range, credits to the army's sharpshooters and early birds who had decided on some target practice before work.
The offices were already buzzing with activity, as the various higher officers and their subordinates slaved at their work, speedily signing papers and filing the reports that came in from the four other headquarters and the field. There were application forms to fill, damage costs to tally and new policies to look over and approve, if need be. Time was precious, and a second wasted meant three seconds to be spent in completing work previously left undone. Discipline was tight, too, and all the soldiers slugged away, afraid of the sharp reprimands of their superiors. It was a typical Wednesday indeed, despite the tense and anticipating air hovering around the whole compound.
However, not even the Wednesday work rush, nor army discipline – nigh, not even the recent news that something big was happening soon – could hinder colonel Roy Mustang in his work, or lack thereof.
"Argh," he groaned, burying his fingers in his black hair. "I swear, this will be the death of me."
"At least do something while you complain, Chief. We're all working our asses off here," second lieutenant Jean Havoc reminded him while peering in through his open office door.
Roy merely ignored him, turning instead to scowl at the mountainous pile of paper occupying nearly half of his desk. No matter how hard he tried, the pile never seemed to decrease, and so he had given up after a few sheets. Most of it was rubbish, anyway, consisting of demands for pay rises from people he didn't even know (just because he had been the commanding officer of Eastern HQ didn't mean that he could promote some random idiot out of the blue, dammit! Even his subordinates knew better, though that didn't stop Havoc from trying once in a while), requests to install a billiard room or open a gambling joint (was this place a military building or a gambling den?), fan and hate mails alike, though the former were in greater abundance (dear lord, how did they get in there?). Finally, after much sifting, the actual documents were discovered and signed. The colonel knew that neither of his subordinates had any hidden terrors lurking within their paperwork, and this thought only served to worsen his foul mood, draining away his already limited motivation to work. Dark onyx eyes drifted to the empty desk nearby.
"I need my daily dose of Hawkeye," he thought. A tendril of smoke wafted into the office, bringing with it the welcome aroma of freshly brewed coffee. "Ah, here she comes, and with coffee!"
Sure enough, first lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was striding into his office with two steaming mugs of coffee perched upon a black plastic tray.
"My saviour!" Roy cried, accepting a mug. It was black and unsugared, just how he liked it and perfect for early morning paperwork-signing marathons. "Riza Hawkeye, you are the angel descended from the heavens to bring salvation-"
The blond-haired woman cut off his tirade. "That's all very well, sir," she said frostily, "but your salvation will not be imminent unless that stack of reports is looked through and signed by noon."
Roy heaved a deep sigh and reluctantly picked up his fountain pen. That was Hawkeye for you, he though resignedly. However, with his trusted lieutenant back by his side and caffeine flowing strongly through his veins, the colonel set to work with renewed vigour, sorting through the hill of processed tree pulp with increased enthusiasm. He even consented to scan through three fan mails, one hate mail and one promotion request, though all of them were promptly tossed into the cylindrical contraption labeled 'TRASH' beside his polished desk.
"Sir?"
Roy raised his head and shot a questioning look at Riza. In response, she nodded towards the oaken doors of his office, from which came a multitude of rapping sounds. He recognised the knocking at once. Only one person would have that slight metallic 'thunk' embedded into each knock that he made.
Setting his pen aside, the colonel steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the surface of his desk. Perhaps the day would not be as uneventful as he thought it would.
"Come in."
The doors swung open, letting in a suit of armour and a teen clad in a black jacket, black pants, and a long red coat. The latter dragged his feet as he walked, and Roy knew that Edward Elric was a perfectly unwilling guest.
"Took you long enough," Ed growled, glaring at him.
"Nii-san, don't be so rude," a voice emanated from the armour, its young tone contrasting greatly with its owner's outer appearance. Alphonse Elric might have had his soul trapped in metal plates, but his true personality was all but what his tough steel exterior portrayed.
Years of traveling had left its signs on the two brothers, Roy observed. The pair had gone off on another lead of the Philosopher's Stone again, this time in the far north, but they looked none the worst besides some tattered clothes and a few more scratches on Al's metal body. Considering the Fullmetal Alchemist's five-week absence from Central City, Roy decided that a little joke couldn't hurt. Discourtesy to one's superiors was a punishable act, after all.
"Hmm, chuui? Did anyone come in? I could've sworn I heard knocking," the man tilted his head slightly, as though straining to look out of his open door.
Riza, used to her boss's habits after working with him for so long, merely made a noncommittal noise and went back to her job of sorting out his paperwork. Roy shrugged, leaned back on his swivel chair, and pretended to just notice Al.
"Morning, Alphonse. Welcome back to Central. I hope you found something useful this time. Where's your brother anyway? He knows that he has to submit a report."
Without waiting for Al to reply, Roy made exaggerated movements of looking around his office. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the little stand of hair on Ed's head twitch.
"It's coming," was the thought of all three unvertically-challenged people in the room. Two sighed mentally, but the third waited with eager anticipation. "It's coming."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MICROCHIBI SO SHORT THAT YOU NEED TO PEER AT THE GROUND WITH A MICROSCOPE TO SEE HIM!!!?" Edward Elric, youngest (and smallest, thought Roy truthfully) alchemist of the state, erupted, arms flailing and rage practically flashing out of his eyes.
Chuckling inwardly, Roy feigned a look of surprise. "Fullmetal? So that was where you were. I'm sorry; paperwork has been piling up lately and I couldn't spot you behind this stack."
He gestured to the pile beside him which was, although a little large for undone paperwork, still no higher than his upper arm. Ed caught the hint.
"Leggo of me!" he yelled, for he had immediately been restrained by Alphonse. "He was asking for a knuckle sandwich!"
"Nii-san, you can't do that!"
"I so can! Look, that idiot's grinning! Just let me get one punch in! I'll use my left fist!"
"I can get you court-martialed for assault, you know," Roy stated sternly, though his true mood was betrayed by the full-blown smirk set on his face. "And you were supposed to submit a report, I believe?"
Ed made a sound akin to that of an enraged animal, but his rational mind told him that his struggles were futile. Taking a deep breath, he tried to regain his composure, and rubbed his sore arms when Al had decided it was safe to release him. After that, he picked up his suitcase, which was lying in a corner after being violently kicked, and retrieved a small stack of papers. This was unceremoniously dumped on Roy's desk.
"Here's your precious report, Mustang. I hope your paperwork kills you."
"Nii-san!" Al chided.
Roy grimaced as he reached for a file to store Ed's newest report in. "That might happen sooner than you think, Fullmetal," he mumbled, returning his gaze to the newly-stacked sheets.
A sheaf of paper, held together by a paperclip, hung from the top of the pile. Reaching out, the colonel snagged it.
"Might as well get started," he thought and lifted his pen. His hand froze halfway when his eyes registered the contents of the paper.
The fountain pen fell from his fingers with a clatter. Disregarding the fact that there was an ink spill on his desk which would probably take ages to remove and leave a stain anyway for all his troubles, Roy grabbed the document with both hands, turning over the pages with an uncommon fervor and with, more rarely, close attention to what was printed on it. He felt the astonished and puzzled looks sent his way, but ignored them in favour of extracting more information from the crisp, type-written words on the double-bonded paper.
Done with his task, Roy raised his head to see three pairs of curious eyes – well, technically Alphonse didn't have eyes, being a suit of armour and all, and so couldn't look confused, but Roy felt sure that the younger Elric was equally weirded out – staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, the message "What? I do work sometimes" evident in his coal-black eyes. His trusty lieutenant was the first to regain her composure.
"Taisa?" she ventured. Showing rare concern – at least she wasn't pointing a gun at him – she added, "Is anything wrong?"
"Nothing's amiss, chuui. I've simply unearthed something very interesting."
Roy did not know whether to groan at the paperwork to be done or laugh at the fun he was about to have. He settled on an evil smirk as a compromise. His mind then alerted himself to the fact that the Elric brothers were still in the office.
"Fullmetal, I'll look through your report," he said, ignoring the teen's mutterings about the general topic of lazy, bastard colonels. "You're dismissed. Send Havoc, Falman, Breda and Fuery in on your way out."
Roy then recalled something and called out to Ed's retreating form. "On second thought, just call them in. This issue concerns you, too."
"Right, gentlemen," Roy stood up and rested his palms firmly on his desk. The papers in question sat on the polished wooden surface before him. "We have a matter of utmost importance to settle."
The aforementioned military men stood stock still. Riza, from her position behind the colonel's desk, also stood at attention. Even the Elric brothers were listening intently. Roy Mustang did not use that tone unless something serious was about to happen.
Roy picked up the document, cleared his throat, and, in a voice that rang out to the furthest corners of the room, made an announcement that spelt the doom for everyone in the days to come.
"I've just found an interesting piece of news. It goes as follows:
To whom it may concern;
Dear Sir/Madam,
With regards to the general welfare of the people of Amestris, the Department of Civilian Management will be organizing a yard sale at the Central Headquarters for Military Affairs on the 10th of June, Saturday, from 1200h to 1800h to raise funds for the needy. In conjunction, a food and fun fair will also be held. All military personnel are required to participate, and are to report at the Headquarters at 0800h on the stated date. Each unit is to submit a proposal (Due 31st May, 1200h) for a booth that is to be manned by its members, as well as to contribute used items that are still in working condition for the yard sale. Please note that no item of unsuitable content will be accepted. The event will be open to all members of the public in Central City, and officers and staff are encouraged to bring their families. Additionally, it is compulsory for all State Alchemists present to each create an individual work that will be displayed as an attraction. All proceeds from this event will go to XXX Society and YYY Organisation.
Signed,
--------------------------------------------------
(Head of Department of Civilian Management)
Stamped and Approved by
King Bradley, Führer President of Amestris
Dated on Monday, 1st of May, yyyy, at 0700h
THIS IS AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENT
NO COPIES ARE TO BE MADE WITHOUT FURTHER CONSENT
That will be all," Roy finished, folding up the papers.
A thick blanket of silence smothered every one in the room, who had simultaneously come up with different (but all highly amusing, thought Roy privately) reactions to the sudden news.
Second lieutenant Jean Havoc dropped his lower jaw, causing the ever-present cigarette to fall out. He never picked it up. Roy tsk-ed mentally; he'd have to dock Havoc's pay for smoking in the office.
Second lieutenant Heymans Breda stood still and unmoving with an expression of shock etched onto his features. His superior wondered what would happen if he poked the frozen figure; he'd probably topple.
Warrant officer Vato Falman kept his composure. However, Roy caught the almost-invisible trembles running along his body, which only happened when the officer had received a huge, and usually unpleasant, surprise.
Master sergeant Kain Fuery had jerked in his alarm. His thick, black-rimmed glasses had slid off and were now dangling from one ear, but he was too preoccupied to adjust them. Briefly, Roy mused upon the topic of spectacles and considered purchasing a pair of shades.
Edward sported eyes the size of dinner plates and his sole standing strand of hair stood so straight up that (and here Roy bit back a laugh) he seemed almost tall. Al appeared unperturbed, being just a hollow shell of metal, but Roy could have sworn that the fourteen-year-old had gone slack-jawed.
"When you lot are done recovering from your astonishment, I want you to think up something for the fair," ordered the colonel as he stood up and folded his arms in the trademark I'm-your-commanding-officer-so-you'd-better-obey-me pose. "And start bringing in your junk tomorrow; I'd rather not find myself buried under moldy old clothes next week."
At this point in time, Riza approached her superior. She was the only one who had remained calm throughout the whole procedure (and probably knew about it already, since she goes through my paperwork, thought Roy ruefully). Now, she stood at attention until a nod sent her to the 'at ease' position.
"Permission to speak, sir?"
"Go on."
"That proposal is to be submitted by the 31st of May, at noon."
Roy frowned at the thought of datelines and paperwork. "I know, chuui. But today's only the…" His voice died down as his eyes locked onto the calendar perched at the corner of his desk. It read, in glaring red block letters: Wednesday, 31st of May.
"Damn," Roy cursed and flipped open his silver pocket watch. "Change of plans, gentlemen. I want you to come up with something and fill in this form before twelve. You have… twenty minutes. Good luck."
With that, he high-tailed out of the room, leaving a chaotic mess behind.
"Yo Roy!" a young man with cropped black hair and a small beard came up, slapping said officer on the back. "How's my old buddy doing?"
His dark-haired companion frowned. "This had better not be something about your new photo album of your daughter or something, Maes."
Lieutenant colonel Maes Hughes mimed a stabbing motion at his chest and faked a hurt tone. "Right through the heart, Roy. What kind of guy do you take me for? I was inquiring about your health, but since you mentioned it, I did get this new lot of pictures developed! Look! Here's one of Elysia-chan when we went to the market last week! Doesn't she look absolutely adorable? And here's another-"
"Maes," Roy cut off the enthusiastic father's speech rather irritably. The irritation was due to the fact that he now had a photograph of Maes's three-year-old daughter plastered onto his visage, which he was studiously ignoring. "I'm working here. Go brag somewhere else."
He twirled his fountain pen around before signing the pressed parchment in front of him. "Whew, that's finally done and over with. Hawkeye-chuui, would you deliver this down to the Administrative Deparment? I'm temporarily incapacitated as it is."
Riza received the manila envelope from his hands and saluted.
"I wouldn't slack off if I were you, sir," she reminded him dryly. "You still have those reports to go through, as well as the Elric brothers' one." She then made a brisk exit.
"Hell, my life sucks," Roy whined, folding his arms on his desk and letting his head fall on them. "What am I doing in this accursed place anyway?"
Maes gave Roy a look of extreme pity and patted him comfortingly. "That's why I said you need to get a wife."
Raising his head a fraction, Roy glared through his dark bangs and his friend with cold, obsidian eyes. The lieutenant colonel took the cue and dropped the subject (for now). An image of the seals and stamps on a piece of typewritten paper flashed through his mind. It rang a distant bell.
"Was that the proposal for the MYS?"
"What?"
"Military Yard Sale," explained Maes with a hint of pride. "I came up with the term; isn't it nifty?"
"Har har, very funny," retorted Roy sarcastically. "But yeah, that was the proposal."
He watched with exasperation as his bespectacled friend suddenly let forth a flood of excited questions. "Ooh, what're you doing? Are Ed and Al involved too? Will you be selling stuff or manning a games booth? Are you-"
For the second time in half an hour, the older man was interrupted.
"It's none of your business," Roy stated shortly, clearly pissed off by the endless queries. "Why are you here? Isn't the Intelligence Department involved too?"
Maes paused to adjust his rimless spectacles which had slid down his nose. He then grinned smugly. "Yes, we are. However, our proposal was done two weeks ago."
Something about what he said and the way he said it gave Roy an ominous feeling. But before he could further contemplate that particular topic, Riza opened the door, thus halting the pair's conversation. Roy consulted his pocket watch again and realized that it was slightly past noon.
"Hawkeye, send the men in. I'll dismiss the unit for lunch break."
As the first lieutenant turned back, Maes piped up, "And call Ed and Al over too! It's been ages since I last saw them."
Roy hid a smile behind his clasped fingers. For all his kidding around, Maes was sure serious about the welfare of those around him. And for him to know about the arrival of the Elric brothers when they had reported straight to Roy's office upon their return…Well, he wasn't in Intelligence for nothing.
The double doors opened once more and seven figures filed in. Without waiting for the customary salute, Maes leapt forward to confront Ed and Al, and tried to force more photos of Elysia on them. ("Oh come on! You haven't seen her yet, right? Isn't she the sweetest and most angelic girl you've seen?")
Watching the display with barely concealed amusement, Roy decided to put in a few words. "I should get Maes to introduce you to her, Fullmetal. She's cute and just the right height for you."
"RAWR! WHO'RE YOU CALLING A SHRIMP SO PUNY THAT-" the rest of Ed's angry and expletive-filled narrative was muffled as Al grabbed him.
Laughing at the struggle – Al was clearly winning – Maes told his best friend, "They have a childhood friend back at Resembool. A girl by the name of Winry."
"Winry?" The image of a small girl with clear blue eyes and golden locks entered the other's mind. "The little blond girl with blue eyes?"
"Yep. Even though she's not so 'little' anymore; she's the same age as Edward."
"Ah." Roy flashed a knowing smirk at Ed and suggested, "You might want to get something at the fair next week for that girlfriend of yours, Edward. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."
The teen immediately ceased his flailing and gawped at his superior officer. For a moment, the openings and closings of his mouth bore a striking resemblance to those of a goldfish. A brilliant shade of scarlet engulfed his features as Ed regained use of his voice, which he promptly made full use of.
"SHE'S JUST MY AUTOMAIL MECHANIC, DAMMIT!" he roared, only to be met with sniggers and chuckles from the men in the room. The fifteen-year-old turned angrily and stormed off, younger brother in tow. He took extra care to slam the doors very loudly.
"He's got it bad,' Roy commented, a Cheshire cat's grin stretched from ear to ear.
"Definitely," Maes agreed and faked a sigh of nostalgia. "Ah, to be young again…speaking of which, when are you going to take my advice and get a wife? My darling Elysia-chan needs a playmate, and I might consider introducing her to a Mustang Junior…"
It was the colonel's turn to look like a freshly-plucked beetroot, much to his chagrin and the amusement of his friend and subordinates. It wasn't every day that one got to see the renown ladies' man acting like an embarrassed schoolboy, and the sight of him trying desperately (and failing miserably) to hide his red-tinted cheeks only served to further the hilarity.
"W-what?" he spluttered indignantly. "Maes – I – You – ARGH!"
The strangled noise of frustration that escaped his lips triggered another bout of chortles from all present. Even Riza cracked out a smile. Somehow, thought Roy dejectedly, that made things even worse.
Recovering slightly, Roy tried to restore his shattered dignity, never mind that it had already been ripped to shreds and tossed out to the winds a long time ago. "Maes, I'm warning you-"
"-To keep it a secret? Sure, you can trust me! But hurry up with the proposing; people don't like being kept in the dark, and I want to meet the lucky girl…"
Roy found his fingers inching towards the drawer that stored his trusty pyrotex gloves. "Maes…"
"…And you'll have a lovely wedding! You'll wear black, of course, since white really doesn't suit you. And Elysia-chan can be your flower girl; just imagine how enchanting she'd look in a little white dress… like a princess out of the fairytales…" Cue the dreamy look of the devoted parent. "Oh, then comes the wedding night…"
What happened then shall be excluded due to the unsuitability of its contents with regards to the rating of this fic.
Later, Roy involuntarily found himself pondering on Maes's words, which he could not seem to get out of his head.
"Trust the guy to bring up that topic," he thought irritably. "Not that I particularly care…"
Roy wasn't one who would place what he saw as needless emphasis on finding a perfect lifelong companion, but he sure could look after himself without his best friend fussing over him like some overprotective mother hen, thank you very much. Anyway, no one would expect the great Roy Mustang, the dream guy of every woman in Central, to have any problems concerning any member of the female gender.
On the other hand, something in what Maes said clung to him like one of his fangirls with the scary death-grips. If things had developed to such an extent that his best friend even had to plan out his wedding, reception and wedding night (which was a subject he didn't really want to dwell on for the time being) in full detail, then truly, something must be seriously screwed with his love life.
End Part I
A/N: Well, that's the introductory chapter. The fun begins in the next one. Reviews are welcome, constructive criticism greatly appreciated and flames will be used to roast a certain hagane no chibi-san.
Quetz.