Editor's note: This is a follow-up. Chapter 2 is somewhere in the author's disorganized backpack…those evil little black holes…TAKS test tomorrow, that's the reason I'm typing this now. Yes, I am always busy, so updates are few in between, but review and complain about the author's lack of writing the next chapter sooner, maybe we can have a protest or something!

Disclaimer: OK, I guess some of you people need glasses or pills. WE DO NOT OWN THESE PPL! Got it memorized?

Morning After

Chapter 1: The After Party?

Roy Mustang liked pillows. Soft, squishy, perfect for sleeping on (duh), banging your head into while staying up late to finish 'forgotten' (translated: ignored) paperwork, under the threat of death by Hawkeye (more specifically: her trusty pistols). But they are good to throw at people who wake him up from his daily office nap and stole his gloves. Yes, he loved pillows. On this particular morning, however, his new favorite 'pillow' wasn't nearly as fond of him. Shocked and more than a little embarrassed seem more like the correct terms, actually

"…Ugh…"

Edward Elric, the 'Hero of the People' FullMetal Alchemist, had one hell of a headache.

…Which wasn't that surprising, actually, considering that's generally the case with a hangover, albeit one resulting from five cups of scotch-spiked break room decaf.

"Dammit, where the hell am I?" Moving around, the groaning blond growled. "What the crap is thi-A miniskirt! Why am I wearing a- oh…That smug bastard's gonna pay! 'Just offering you some coffee, FullMetal; though it will probably stunt your growth even more…' "

He fumed on for a few more minutes, mimicking his superior officer's voice and muttering under his breath, until, while attempting to sit up, he found himself pinned by the waist to the scratchy orange-plaid carpet. Confusedly lifting the mysteriously warm object, he realized it was…

"An ARM? Holy-who…?"

He turned over slightly to glimpse an all-too familiar shock of black hair.

"MUSTANG!" Frantically trying to shove the Colonel off-away from him, he was met with disgruntled murmurs and a vise-like grip tighten around his middle.

"Get OFF, you stupid pervert!"

"Noooo." Roy insisted sleepily, "MY pillow."

Then proceeded to his face in Ed's back. Blushing furiously, Ed vainly struggled to extricate himself from the cuddle-happy Colonel.

"Look, I'm a bad pillow-I won't even stay still,- and what the hell are you using me as one for!...C'mon, leggo…" He sighed in defeat, as he was very near being squeezed to death, he stopped fighting to take in his surroundings.

It seemed the entire office had passed out on the floor or various desks. Havoc was drooling into a potting plant, while Fuery was snoring, head back, in Roy's spinning desk chair. Scieska and Hawkeye, muttering respectively about 'aliens and smashed idiots', seemed to have claimed the couches. Armstrong was sprawled halfway across Breda's desk, and Breda himself was in the same corner Fuery had hidden in the night before, a content Black Hayate curled on his lap. Ed sweat dropped. That would be interesting to wake up to.

Well, at least today was Saturday, so no one would come in to find the drunken mess. All in all, it could've been worse, considering it could be Armstrong rather than Flame-boy who was hugging him. He winced at that and, looking around to make sure no one was anywhere near coherent enough to notice, relaxed into the embrace. Only trying to get back to sleep, for his head, since he wasn't sober enough at 5:30 a.m .anyway, he reasoned to himself. It was was just a plus that he was comfortable. Besides, in the end, everyone else wouldn't admit to actually remebering it anyway. Contentedly reaching for a gripping hand, exchanging it with flesh fingers for the chill of automail, Ed drifted off.

Oh, this was pricless...

Hughes almost cackled with glee as he peered over the desk at the dozing alchemists. Quickly raising his camera, he subtly snapped a picture of the two rivals, knowing that his best friend would char him so blacl 'BBQ Extra Crispy' would be placed on his death certificate, and the other would most likely do something diabolically worse, probably involving putting the camera up his...Yeah, sufficient to say, those pictured would reamin ignorant of the entire caught-on-film deal-unless, of course, the need for blackmail arose, in which case they'd be the first to know. They would be a (useful) favorite; except every single one of his precious Elysia's gazillion, double-negative insured portraits, of course. yup, he sing-songed to himself on the way out the door. Heading home, he thought they should have office parties more often...

"...AIEEEEEEEEEE!"

Breda's shrill shriek shattered the glass catfigurine in Falman'sdesk, effectively proving Havoc's running bet that he could indeed scream like a little girl. Unfortunately the chain-smoking First Lieutenant was too busy doing a face plant into the dirt to notice. And he wasn't the only one else awake...

insert chaos

That's the end of this chapter.

We all know the reader's love suspense!

Chapter 2: Rude Awakenings