Surprise Visit
The Fuhrer was not an easily shaken man; which was probably one of many good reasons he had made it up to the position he was in now. Of course, no man could be expected to take something quite like this standing up.
When he had first stepped into the outer office, he had been greeted by a young black haired woman, who had leapt to her feet from her position on the lap of a blond Second Lieutenant. At least, the Fuhrer had thought she was a woman, now he wasn't so sure.
Most women he knew didn't have five o'clock shadows (especially not at three in the afternoon). Or such broad shoulders. And he was almost positive most women shaved their legs before wearing miniskirts.
Not to mention the obvious lack of breasts.
The Fuhrer raised an eyebrow, now certain that this soldier was in fact a man. Something occurring to him, he glanced at the Lieutenant, who had also snapped to attention. He pointedly ignored the quiet snickers that were coming from the men he had brought with him as he gave the blond an appraising look.
The collar of his uniform was unfolded, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his blue overcoat lay discarded on the couch. The Fuhrer wasn't even going to get into the hair.
Sighing, he looked back at the Sergeant Major, who had turned a most interesting shade of red. "Young man," The Fuhrer began, his voice trailing off as he realized there really was nothing to say in a situation such as this (which he prayed would never ever be repeated).
"I'm very sorry Sir. We, er, weren't expecting you?" The Fuhrer had to strain his ears something dreadful just to get the basic gist of what the man was saying, or rather, trying to say.
"Oh?" He sighed, his words failing him once again. He grasped at straws, trying to find something at least mildly intelligent. Needless today, he failed, and rather miserably too. "Couldn't you have, ah, I don't know, done that somewhere else?" He asked, glancing around the room for options. "Like perhaps the walk-in-closet?"
This time it was the Lieutenant who replied, and afterwards the Fuhrer found himself wishing he had stayed in Central. "No sir, the Taisa and Fullmetal are in there sir, on account of First Lieutenant Hawkeye doing paperwork in his office sir."
Even as he said it, the blond appeared to realize what a bad idea opening his mouth had been. This was evident as all the blood drained out of his face and he swayed on his feet. The Fuhrer could hear his own jaw dropping.
He could also hear a few thuds, as veteran soldiers, ones he entrusted with his life for goodness sake's, keeled over at the mention of Colonel Mustang and his male subordinate in a closest, together.
The Fuhrer sighed. Yes, he really wished he had just stayed in Central; serial killers had nothing on this.
End
a/n: Inspired by Spades 44's Insanity drabble. Well, the miniskirt and closet at least :)
