Author's Note: Blaaaaaah. I officially hate this theme now D: I agonized over and over and over again, trying to figure out something to write. So here it is, and I don't like it much, and it's just...a;ldjflsdkjf, just read it.

Timeline: Postseries

Theme 10: Love or like?

Edward had always thought of Roy Mustang as a man who could hold his liquor. He had never cared much for alcohol himself, so he had never joined the other men when they went off on their drinking parties. Even now, in the emotional high of a wedding reception, he had only drunk one glass of champagne for toasts.

So he was taken completely by surprise when someone slung an arm over his shoulders and slurred, "How's it goin', Fll Medal?"

Grimacing at the strong whiff of alcohol that accompanied these words, Edward turned his head to see Mustang slumped against him with a vague smile on his face. He kept talking, but his slurred words were hardly understandable, so Edward tuned him out and looked around for help.

But everyone seemed far too busy celebrating to notice his plight. Breda, Falman, and Fury were sniggering two tables away, their cheeks rosy from the wine and their grins a little too knowing to be of any assistance. Even Alphonse and Winry were no help, since they were out on the dance floor, oblivious. Edward was distracted for a moment, watching his wife laughing as Alphonse twirled her around. Beyond them, Havoc was dancing with his bride, holding her close and turning slowly, even though the music was lively. Havoc had been disgruntled that even Edward, so many years his junior, had beat him to marriage, but now he had finally caught up.

"I love you, man!" Mustang continued, jerking him back to the present. The man was grinning stupidly and resting his cheek on Edward's shoulder, mumbling something about 'lalkummy.' Then he suddenly turned his vacant smile on Edward and said with a hiccup, "How 'bout you, Ed? Love or like?"

"Um...Mustang..." With little success, Edward tried to extricate himself from the older man's embrace. Once again, he glanced around frantically, but no one paid any attention.

Then Mustang started singing. "I love youuuuu, you love meeeeee, we're a happy familyyyy..."

Thankfully, Mrs. Mustang appeared on Edward's other side, like a beacon of divine intervention sent to rescue him. Her sharp chestnut eyes took in the situation at a glance, then she pursed her lips and pried her husband away. "Come, darling," she said dangerously, gripping his arm. "I think it's time we went home."

As soon as they left, Alphonse and Winry approached, cheeks flushed happily. Alphonse plopped down at their vacant table and gulped down a glass of water. Slightly breathless, Winry touched Edward's arm and said, "What's up? Your face is as red as that coat you used to wear all the time."

Feeling his face growing hotter than ever, Edward grabbed her hand and dragged her back to the dance floor, since the band had struck up a new tune. "Dance, Winry."

"Oh, but I just-"

"This one's slower anyway," Edward growled and after a glance at his face, Winry fell silent and let him lead her through the steps.

After a minute or two, the constant sight of his beautiful wife in front of him pushed all thoughts of his earlier embarrassment aside, and he didn't feel so hot around the collar anymore.

Winry's eyebrows raised inquisitively when she saw his change of expression, and he smiled back. "Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

Bright and early the next morning, Edward got up to mail a postcard. He had chosen his moment carefully. Hopefully this would be delivered at just the right moment when Mustang was holding his aching head, trying to do some paperwork and hoping he hadn't made a fool of himself without remembering it.

Then he would look at his mail, turn over the postcard, and read the unsigned message on the back: Nice singing voice, MY LOVE.

Banging the door of the mailbox closed, Edward went back inside, whistling cheerfully – until he realized that was the tune Mustang had been singing.