Disclaimer: We, the Sneaky Wenches, do not in any way, shape, or form own Fullmetal Alchemist or Dr. Seuss.

Chapter One: And So It Begins

There were few things in the world that got under the thick, unblemished skin of Colonel Roy Mustang. Crooked supervisors, crying babes, unclean windows, short blonde underlings; none could ruffle that cool, darkly handsome exterior. Many wondered just how a man called the Flame Alchemist could be so calm, so debonair, so… so… Mustang.

Indeed, his own crew wondered how such a man came to be the head of their outfit. Not that any of them would dare to wonder too often in his presence. Still, regardless of how high they all regarded the Colonel, they would all agree that he was never one to be upset by anything, save one tiny, insignificant thing.

He hated Christmas.

Oh sure, the women were more plentiful in their cute winter outfits, and the dates got cheaper as looking at various Christmas lights for the price of hot cocoa replaced expensive dinners and theater tickets. The only good part about the theater was that whole snogging bit that inevitably occurred once the lights dimmed, in his humble opinion.

Nor was he ever truly nervous about that horrid C-word the fairer sex was apt to bring up around the holidays; any looking for a truly serious relationship never quite made it into his little black book anyways. No, one could not attribute such hatred to the women in East City – much to the dismay of his muttering subordinates.

To tell the truth, it was never really one thing in particular that set off his ire. More, it was a combination of all those small nuances that made this particular holiday "festive". Large wreaths adorning all the doors, making all the snow-covered houses dreadfully alike in the moonlight; not to mention how those gaudy shrubs made it absolutely impossible to properly knock the old brass knockers.

Fresh eggnog, thick enough to drown a whale or filled with so much brandy that one might as well drink the liquor straight from the bottle. Carolers – the brats – bringing their agonizingly off-key snores and infecting the entire bloody city with whatever cold or flu happened to be passing by.

Oh, and the mistletoe! While admittedly the least annoying of the season, it also required a great deal of stealth tactics to avoid being taken by surprise and ending up with someone terribly embarrassing… like Hughes, for example. There was a very good reason that peon Havoc was still running all the less than savory errands. No, it was simply not worth taking the chance, especially with that group. Any stray bundles of the cursed weed were immediately tracked down and the culprit suitably punished.

Luckily for the Colonel, he was not plagued with any of the "Holiday Horrors" at the moment. Yes, Roy Mustang had successfully managed to secure himself in the relative comfort of his office. Safe, warm, holiday free, and… dreadfully boring.

Boring. Boring. Boring. It was a Tuesday afternoon and the Colonel was without an excuse to leave early. No cute date wearing just enough to make sure she did not freeze waiting with baited breath for his arrival. Dateless on a lousy Tuesday, though never on a Friday or Saturday regardless of lousiness; his reputation simply could not handle such a thing.

He shifted slightly in the chair. Hawkeye had placed all his work ever-so-neatly in the outbox on his desk, obviously not anticipating the day's lousiness. A small shortcoming; he would not fault her, even if it did mean he could not even feign working. Ever since the sign on his inbox had accidentally landed on his trash can, the woman simply did not seem to trust his organizational abilities.

The empty black tray gleamed, as lonely as its owner. Surely there was someon- err, something to do, but no matter how many times he ordered the bloody thing to reveal itself, it remained just beyond the Colonel's grasp. The stupid, annoying, incommodious, stagnant, vexatious-

The phone rang.

-blessed, miraculous, fortunate, kind divinity! Startled out of his lethargic state, twin gloved hands scrambled for the receiver. Clearing his throat in an effort to appear calm in the face of, well, something to do, he gracefully raised the piece to his ear. "Mustang." Perfect. No sign of boredom.

"Hey howdy hey, partner!" Oh dear God. Either the heavens were shining down upon him, or the Devil himself was having a laughing fit at his expense. To be listless enough that the prospect of getting his ear talked off by Maes My-Pathetic-Life-Revolves-Around-My-Daughter Hughes actually brightened his mood… Mustang had apparently found a new high for his low.

"Any news?"

"I just got my last roll of pictures developed from Alicia-chan's birthday party! All dressed up in that little pink dress Gracia spent all of November working on-"

"Hughes…"

"-and those ickle shoes I gave her with little silver bells on the bows! You should've heard her jingling around the yard chasing after the neighbor's cat-"

"Hughes."

"-and the double-tier cake that we got at the bakers down the street! I got a picture of her blowing out the candles too! She's growing up so fast… I didn't even have to help her this ye-"

"HUGHES!"

"-ar… Huh? Is the something wrong, Colonel?"

Ah, annoyance. How he had missed thee. Then again, anything was preferable to his previous state of boredom, he supposed. Although, it probably was not the best idea to inform his long-winded colleague of such. Sometimes you simply had to narrow down your question and repeat yourself. "How are things in Central?"

"Quiet as a Christmas mouse. The entire city's quieted down for the holidays, as usual. Nobody wants to cause trouble at this time of year."

Damn. "Nothing?" He allowed a bit of hope to enter his voice.

"Nope. Nothing going on. Even the pick-pockets have dwindled down to one or two a week."

Damn it all. He really did not want to have to resort to extreme measures, but the birds in the tree outside his window had flown away in search of a mid-afternoon snack and Mustang was left without an end to the blank stillness outside. He leaned towards the window, wishing for something other than the next inevitable "Alecia-chan saga".

Blinking, he looked at the small clock on his desk. The line had been silent for five minutes. 'Five minutes!' The entire time he had known the man, he had never been silent for so long. Not that Roy Mustang was worried. Of course not. He was simply a bit… concerned. Right.

"Hughes? You still there?"

"Yup."

"… You're quiet today."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind." Blast. He really was going to have to ask. "So… how is Gracia?"

"She's doing well."

Silence. Mustang waited for another spiel, but it never came. Another minute passed before he spoke again. "And Alecia-chan?"

"Alecia-chan is as cute as ever."

Silence. Again. Realization dawned slowly upon the Colonel, shoulders relaxing as the threat of Alecia-chan sagas crawled to a halt. "Went to her mother's again, did she?"

"Yeah. Took my precious Alecia-chan with her too." A hesitation. "Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Of course. I doubt that anyone's listening in on a conversation as dull as this one."

"No kidding. I was bored out of my mind when I called you and that still hasn't changed."

"So what makes you think that something might be going on in the forlorn East City if there's nothing going on in Central?"

"Good point."

Silence. Bloody hell and Christmas wreaths, even the annoyance was fading into boredom.

"Have you heard from Edward-kun recently?"

"Alphonse sent a message saying that he and Fullmetal are on their way back to East, unsuccessful as usual."

"Did they manage to break anything, at least?"

"Not a single damn city. Either they're getting better at it, or worse. I can't tell which." Not even a mess to clean up, or a political scandal to rant about… how in the world had they managed that? The God of Destruction must have been taking a nap.

"Are they going to pass through Central?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow at noon." Mustang yawned. "You going to meet them at the station?"

"I just might. It's always entertaining teasing Edward-kun." That earned a lazy smirk from the Colonel.

Silence. Another conversation topic that failed. Talking about Fullmetal usually took ten minutes or more, random insults and rants aside, but this time there was nothing for them to even speculate about. No mess. No cleanup. No buildings burnt or transmuted down to water jugs. No cities complaining about the military and it's pint-sized alchemist.

"Has Hawkeye started putting up holiday decorations yet?"

Grunt. "So far there's only one wreath gaudily tacked to the outside of the office door." And it could stay there since he only had to see it once when he came into the office in the morning. He was not exactly that inclined to risk Hawkeye's wrath. Sometimes that woman could be nearly as devious as the Colonel himself. Nearly.

"Any plans for the holiday?" Still the same bored tone. Mustang could just picture Hughes slouched in his desk chair, feet propped up on the desk and grasshopper hair just within decent constraints.

"No, no plans… " Mustang trailed off, ready to allow his brain to hibernate for the rest of the conversation. Not a single, solitary plan-

Wait.

A smile slowly began creeping across the Colonel's face. Yes… a plan. A good plan. A plan that would provide hours upon hours of entertainment to endure the unpalatable holiday cheer that was spreading across the city. The wheels began turning and the smile grew devious.

Then he got an idea! An awful idea! The Colonel got a wonderful, awful idea!

"Roy?" asked Hughes with more than a note of concern. Maybe insanity traveled on phone lines. "Something happen?"

Mustang was silent a moment longer, letting the final pieces slip into place. "I just had an idea." He started to smirk.

"Oh really?" responded Hughes with a hint of interest. The Colonel's plans were always interesting. "Is it something I can take part in?"

Mustang was grinning. "Yes. Go to the train station at noon tomorrow. We'll start from there."

This was going to be a lot of fun.