Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, or any related characters.

WARNING: In case the summary didn't tell you enough, there's going to be a lot of nudity in this fic. Read carefully.

"Fullmetal! Get your ass in here!"

Halfway down the hall, Edward actually jumped at the Colonel's tone. Mustang was always pissed at him for some reason, but still, the man usually didn't start cursing until Ed had made a few snarky remarks. His surprise quickly turned to irritation, and he yelled right back as he stomped up the hall, Alphonse on his heels. "Calm your tits, Colonel, I'm working on it!"

Edward glanced up at Mustang's face as he shoved past him into the man's office, and got another shock; rather than the anger he was expecting based on his tone, the Colonel wore an almost anxious expression, his normally calm face blotched with red.

Shrugging it off, Ed threw himself into a chair and crossed his arms, waiting for whatever bullshit assignment he was supposed to deal with next. Behind him, Alphonse stood silently; probably afraid to speak with the Colonel's current mood, whatever that was.

The sound of a door closing and locking, and then slow footsteps until Mustang stood at his desk, back to Edward. He didn't speak, so Ed did. "Um, hello, do you not remember telling me to 'get my ass in here' a couple seconds ago? Is there a reason, or are you finally losing it?"

"Look," the man snapped back, placing a hand over his face but still not turning around. "You'll understand if you shut up and let me get this out. Ugh, I don't want to do this…"

That was interesting. Edward grinned, wondering what could have the Colonel so distressed. "What, am I getting promoted or something? Oh, bet that pisses you off—"

"Shut up!" Finally, Mustang turned around. "You're not being promoted! It's—a mission."

"Colonel?" Alphonse piped up hesitantly. "Is it bad?"

"That doesn't even cover it," the man groaned, rubbing his temples. "This…this fucking sucks."

Edward was no stranger to coarse language, but it was way too weird hearing it from the Colonel. Sure, Mustang fired off some curses at him every once in a while, but usually the man was too busy acting classy to fall to that point. Something serious had to be going down. "You want to tell us what it is?"

The Colonel sighed. "No, but it's not like I have a choice. Listen, there have been reports of suspicious activity in a certain…community." The man swallowed, reddening slightly. What was going on here? "People are being taken to the leader of the community, and changed. They come back stronger, more efficient, and resistant to pain—but most off all, they come back looking different. Their physical structure has been altered; for example, one report was of a man being taken away, overweight and short, and coming back slightly taller and leanly muscled. The only reason anyone knew it was him was because of his facial features—that, and his personality was the same. What does that sound like to you?"

Now realizing the gravity of the situation, Ed leaned forward and rested his chin on intertwined fingers as he murmured his response. "Human transmutation." Something Edward was far too familiar with. "But how? The leader wouldn't be intact at this point, unless he has a—"

"Philosopher's Stone," Mustang finished grimly. "Exactly."

"What I don't understand is, what's the point? I mean, it sounds like this leader is just making people a little different, not trying anything drastic. Why bother with something so dangerous?" Al asked.

At that, the Colonel's face twisted up in a grimace of sorts. "That's the unpleasant bit. We think the goal is simply to make people more efficient. This community, they have to be self-sufficient, so that's important. They aren't allowed to mingle with the public."

A deep sense of foreboding rose up in Edward. He wasn't sure what was about to happen, but something in him sensed it wouldn't be good. "Why not?" he questioned, the words coming hesitantly.

"Because," Mustang sighed, avoiding eye contact. "This community is a nudist colony."

Ed's brain seemed to shut off for a moment, trying to process that.

Fuck no.

This wasn't happening, right?

"So what?" he managed, trying to keep the tone lighthearted. His attempt sounded pathetic, but he pushed on. "We just go in, kick some ass, and leave. No problem, right?"

Before he could even finish, the Colonel was shaking his head. "It's not that simple. All we know is what's on the surface; we don't know if there's a deeper problem, or if it's going to progress. We could just go and confiscate the Philosopher's Stone, but without knowing where they got it, and what all they were planning to do…we might just end up with another problem. So there's only one solution."

"Don't you fucking do this to me, Colonel," Ed warned, trying to not hear what was happening. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Who else am I supposed to send, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked, irritated lines creasing his forehead. "We need to go undercover."

Distressed as he already was, Edward blanched. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"You and me." It seemed like the man was had quite a bit of difficulty saying that. "You're quick—you know I can't send Alphonse with you. He's empty—no offense, Alphonse—so he can't actually go undercover. He can't be nude."

"Stop," Edward hissed. He didn't want to hear this.

"You think I'm happy about this, Fullmetal?" Mustang growled. "You really think I want to hang around naked with a bunch of other naked people, traipsing around with you—fucking naked?"

"Exactly," Ed responded. "So let's not do this."

"It's our responsibility, Fullmetal! And besides, I'm sparing you the worst of it."

Almost delirious with do-not-want-this, Edward laughed. "What could possibly be worse?"

With a deadpan expression, the Colonel simply said, "Going with Major Armstrong."

A terrifying vision popped into Ed's head unbidden: Armstrong, nude, striking his ridiculous poses and prancing about, talking about whatever—gulp—techniques had been passed down his family for generations. He wasn't the only one; behind Edward, Al shuddered audibly.

"Okay," Ed rasped, shaking his head to clear it. "I take it back. That would be worse."

"I know," Mustang responded, also seeming a bit unsettled. "But the job is suited for alchemists, and so…I have to go with you."

Going with Armstrong would be bad, but Edward still couldn't imagine having to go with the Colonel. That had "bad fucking idea" written all over it. A thought came to him that did nothing to help. "Um, hold up; I—fuck, I don't want to ask this. But how do nudist colonies work? Like…walking around…seeing naked people all day…"

That was it. That was all he was going to say. If the man didn't get his implication, Ed would figure it out himself.

Unfortunately, the Colonel understood—and wasn't as cautious in his expression of the issue. "You don't want to be popping boners all day, am I right?"

Alphonse squeaked; Edward was struck dumb. Mustang continued, flushing even as he tried to maintain his composure. "There's nothing to do about that, I'm afraid. Maybe everyone there get's used to all the nudity and doesn't have that problem, maybe everyone walks around hard. I wouldn't know."

Ed could think of a million things he would rather do than have this conversation. "So what are we supposed to do?"

"Take care of any problems ourselves," the Colonel responded delicately.

Giving in, Edward hung his head, covering his face with his hands. "This is a joke, right?"

"Unfortunately not," the man muttered. "Let's just get this done and over with as soon as possible."

Edward took a deep breath to compose himself. This was going to suck. No doubt about that. But he'd been through worse—he could handle a couple days in a nudist colony. He raised his head up and inhaled again before looking the Colonel in the eye. "Alright. When do we leave?"

The man checked his watch. "About three hours."