Didn't get too much attention, ah well, suppose the fandom of FMA is quiet. =P

This particular chapter was requested by Lanny-Sama, she wanted to see a wasted Roy and Edward handling him, here you go! Besides, wasted people are always hilarious in some way or another. I included Alphonse because it seemed better that way, a more "true FMA style humour", a lot of people seem to either kill him off or forget about him, at least the area of FMA I hang around at. xD

I'm still accepting requests if you have any, it can be of anything at all for Edward to react over! Be it past, present or even future stuff that doesn't exist, mythology, history, real world stuff that doesn't happen in FMA, anything in FMA, anything in the world! Go ahead, don't be shy ;3

Quite a lot of swearing in this chapter, so be alert for that! There might be seen as slight RoyEd if you squint, I didn't intend for it to be that way, it's more ParentalRoyEd more then anything. I do love me some RoyEd though. If you disagree I couldn't care less. xP

Summary: On the fifth anniversary of Maes Hughes' death, his best friend drowns himself in sorrows with a pipsqueak and younger brother to help his drunk arse home. Mayhaps ParentalRoyEd

Disclaimer~ Figured out who wrote it, Hiromu Arakawa, sorry I forgot his/her name.

A Wasted Roy

"Damnit, Bastard, don't do that!" The usually quiet street at the time of 01:43am was shockingly louder then its usual silent nights at the night of July the fifteenth 1911 (1), the fifth anniversary of Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes' death, or should that be, Brigadier General Maes Hughes. His death brought his rank up, twice, but that was of little comfort to his family and friends who appeared to his funeral. Though honoured with the appearance of majority of the Amestrian Military, it was anything but an honourable moment. A memorable moment, for all the wrong reasons, perhaps, but never honourable, though that man was the definition of the word.

That night, the fifth anniversary of the honourable man, his best friend found himself at the same bar, the same bar where they had their last face to face talk before his death. Hawkeye anticipated that Roy Mustang would drink himself into oblivion; that is if Madame Christmas would let him. She was almost like a foster mother to the Brigadier General, but she couldn't very well say "stop drinking completely, you'll blow your livers up," what would become of her bar if its best customer was to be chased away?

To tackle that problem, Hawkeye asked (well, asked was a looser word to what we could really use, 'forced at point blank range' would be a better description) the Fullmetal Alchemist to keep Roy in check. Knowing the Brigadier General, he would get run over by a car in his drunken state. Now wouldn't that be a fitting end for the Flame Alchemist, Edward pondered, seriously considering just that.

Currently, he was in a big predicament. Given that he was… vertically challenged, it was hard enough to carry tall things without difficulty, having the Brigadier General leaning on him like he were some table, the elbow on his head, no less, was a tough job on his restraint. Roy wasn't trying to humiliate him, oh fuck that, yes he is, he always is! Edward reasoned, but he couldn't very well push Mustang off without harming him, then he'd get shot by Hawkeye for letting that happen. Or hit by the blunt end of a gun, nevertheless, either option was painful.

"Mustang." Ed's voice was dangerously wavering. It didn't help that Alphonse wasn't helping, at all. The little bugger was just laughing in the background at Ed's unfortunately predicament concerning Roy. At first, Alphonse was quiet, "he doesn't look so good, brother, do you think he could drown in all that alcohol?" then a later, "Brother, I think I sometimes prefer Roy drunk, he's so much calmer." Now it's more like, "the look on your face, brother! It's priceless!" followed by an endless chain of childish laughter.

Roy didn't reply, or even give any indication whatsoever that he had heard the pipsqueak. After a minute, Roy turned to look at Ed, a drunken smile on his face. "Nghuh?" Well, his intelligence whilst drunk surely doesn't rise anymore then whilst sober, that's for sure. At least that confirmed something, Edward noted. Then Mustang proceeded to hug Edward, snuggling his face into the crook of his neck, yawning, "Think I'm wasted… sleep it off… 'ight." It was just barely legible, half of the Brigadier General's face in hair, the other half in skin, but Edward heard it loud and clear.

"What the… bastard, get off me!" Edward did not tolerate touching. Especially cuddling. If Mustang wasn't drunk, he'd have been murdered long before now, it shouldn't have gone on for so long! He was barely holding his reigns as it is.

Alphonse was laughing, harder than before. "He's so cute! Brother, can we take him home?"

"WHAAT? Alphonse, he's not a PET!" He could probably pass as one, stupid dog, Edward added mentally, not daring to face his younger brothers' scolds if he should let it slip. With no warning at all, Roy veered towards the left, falling away from Edward's grip and onto the pavement. He let out a small complaint of "feel gross, blurgh," before he rubbed his face several times, as if to wake himself up.

"Brother, do you think the Brigadier General is going to be ok at home?" Alphonse, ever the one to worry whether it concerned him or not.

Edward had to smile whilst looking at his younger brother, the more considerate of the two. "Don't worry; I'm sure the bastard can manage to take care of himself once he gets home. Have a heck of a blast inside his head though. At least, that's what Hawkeye said." Edward shrugged, he had never drank alcohol yet, he wasn't sure he wanted to after seeing Mustang's display.

Alphonse swung slightly, standing in the same place whilst doing so, the two waiting for the fallen soldier to recover slightly. "Brother, how do you think I'll act when I'm drunk?"

Edward flushed slightly, he really didn't know, nor did he want to know. He recalled something Havoc had done whilst he was completely wasted, according to Breda, Havoc sometimes sang nursery rhymes, alternating tunes and rhythm so it either turned out damn good or painstakingly awful. What would Alphonse do? Hallucinate and see millions upon millions of kittens all over the place? That was the most likely thing, but he dare not tell his brother that.

"Let's not find out, alright?"

Alphonse wasn't' exactly satisfied, but he shook it off. "Brother?"

"Yes, Al?"

"Will we have to send Roy to hospital if this carries on?"

Edward tilted his head. "How do you mean?"

Alphonse sweat dropped. "Well, Hawkeye said something about his liver blowing up if he-"

Edward waved frantically. "She didn't mean literally!" Ed sighed as Al did the "ohhh" face. His younger brother still had much to learn about the world. "Maybe counselling, but-"

"No." the duo turned to see Roy looking at them, more determined, looking more like the real Roy Mustang who was hiding behind his drunken posture. "Last thing I need is a record on being a complete nutter, nothing stands in the way of me becoming Fuhrer."

Ed rolled his eyes, tsking. "You keep at yelling that to the whole world and Hawkeye won't be the one painting the wall with your brains."

"Brother!" Al scolded his brother once again. Ed just shrugged, looking at his brother, before turning his attention to a struggling Mustang.

Roy stood, having a tad bit of trouble, but no more then so. "Be that as it may, Fullmetal," there was an extra bit of accusation in his voice to the name, "Hughes has made me even more determined to do what I must, and I won't let his dying wish die too." That signalled its finality, there was no turning back. He knew the road ahead would be a tough one, but he would never let his best friend down. Ed had to respect that, one of the only things he could really respect about the man that tormented him so. "He only does it because you react funny, brother." Alphonse had told him, but that didn't make it any ok for him to do it.

With that, the trio walked on, well the duo walked whilst the third stumbled, then decidedly leaned once again on Fullmetal, despite his protests.

"Oh, by the way."

"What is it now, ya big baby?"

"Ever taught how to ride a Mustang?"

"MUSTANG!"

Then the air filled with Alphonse's laughter as the two continued to banter, just like they always did.

Blah, this was more sad then funny. A poor attempt at humour, I must admit. Sorry about that. Give us a review or some loving!

~Blackie

P.s. No I won't teach anyone how to ride a Mustang.

(1) I've looked, the interwebz says nothing about Maes' time of death, nudda, zilch. I didn't feel like looking on youtube for the date written on his grave. If anyone knows the date, let me know and I might change it ;3