A/N: Don't judge me; I wrote this sugar-high at 3 AM. Quality not guaranteed. ;)

Rating: T for language and vague sexual references.


The second Colonel Mustang left the room, Edward Elric darted for the desk.

Al stood up, confused and concerned, while his brother dived into every drawer, fishing out folders, papers, pens, reports, and what seemed to be an endless supply of paperclips. Seriously, an endless supply of paperclips: when Ed tried to chuck them out, he created a long-lasting hailstorm that clattered against his brother's metal shoulders. That shower lasted over ten seconds. And still the desk-searching continued. A few more sheets of paper. Fifteen hundred more paperclips. A paperweight. Five hundred more paperclips. Something that resembled an orange peel but was distinctly the wrong color. Three more paperclips. A paper airplane made from what might have been a confidential military report. Another paper airplane that was definitely a confidential military report.

Before Al could ask what Ed intended with this ransacking, the elder Elric brother shouted "BINGO!"

His hunched back straightened.

Ed brandished a simple leather journal.

Excitement twinkled in Edward's eyes.

Al knew that look. He shuffled forward, standing clear of the new mountain range of paperclips circling Mustang's desk, but tried to catch a glimpse at what his brother held.

"That's the colonel's alchemy research, isn't it?"

"Yup!"

"What do you need it for?"

"For something useful, of course." Ed buried his nose deep into Mustang's spider-scratched handwriting. "Don't you think fire transmutation would be cool?"

"I think 'cool' and 'useful' are two different things."

Ed ignored the comment. He mumbled a few lines under his breath, rolled his eyes at whatever he saw, and then flipped a few pages forward. The only thing Al could catch was "damn colonel" before Ed's muttering subsided.

They stood this way for several minutes: Al awkwardly hovering beyond the desk, Ed scrutinizing the text of unknown alchemical secrets.

Ed suddenly spoke.

"Get a load of this," he scoffed. He deepened his voice, mockingly imitating a radio advertiser - or maybe a certain colonel - and bellowed out the tag line: "Roy Mustang: his flames aren't ALL that's hot!"

"Brother…" Al sighed in ashamed exasperation. "Be serious and read the journal. Don't make something like that up."

"I'm not." Ed shoved the book in his brother's face, where Al could, indeed, find the colonel's blatant self-advertisement. Any hope that it wasn't an innuendo vanished. Armor withered in second-hand embarrassment. A once-proud suit of steel crumpled into a ball of discarded tin foil. Corrosion was not the key to deteriorating metal: all that was needed was a few lines of Colonel Mustang's creative writing.

Al handed the material back to his brother.

"He… he coded his alchemy research as a date journal."

"Shouldn't have expected anything else from that pervert."

Ed made sure to emphasize the word "pervert" with particular disdain.

The other Elric, however, spoke with discomfort. Distinct discomfort. "Brother, there might be an alchemy code in there, but this isn't very appropriate!"

"Eh. It's nothing you don't know already."

"Brother…"

"I think the word 'fuck' here is coded to mean 'transmutation'…"

"Brother…"

"Does every time he bang someone mean that his transmutation was a success, or…"

"BROTHER!"

"Wow, he even has his team coded in here. No clue who 'Bradykins' might be…"

"BROTHER?!"

"Al, I'm trying to concentrate. Okay, so, Breda's boobs…"

"BROTHER, THE COLONEL IS BACK!"

The entire room fell silent. Slowly, slowly, slowly, Ed forced his neck to turn. He twisted it away from the pages of the book. Looked past the desk. Noticed a pair of crossed arms. Noticed a black-eyed stare. Realized that Mustang was standing just a few feet away, boots buried in paperclips, as he glared down at the younger alchemist.

Well… perhaps 'glared' wasn't the perfect term here. There was some disappointment. Lots of annoyance. And some… was that… bemusement?

"What was that about boobs, Fullmetal?" he said, loudly enough that everyone else entering the room could hear him. It seemed that Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery were all returning from a lunch break. "I know puberty makes you -"

Ed snapped the alchemy book shut with one hand and slammed it into Mustang's chest. "Nothing," he hissed. Knowing he'd now long outstayed his welcome, and that Mustang would probably say something very untoward unless situations changed, Ed began stomping for the door, forcing Al to tiptoe after him.

But before Ed could slam the office door behind him, he heard voices igniting conversation. Mustang's officers appeared to be talking all at once, heating up to grill and taunt their superior.

One loud voice rose clear above the rest.

A bit more accusatory than the others.

Heymans Breda.

"SO THEN. COLONEL. DIDN'T KNOW. YOU CARED.

"WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT MY BOOBS?"