-*.-*.-*.-*.-*. notes -*.-*.-*.-*.-*.-*.-

I do not own FMA, nor do I wish to.

This chapter has a G rating.

italics are inside thoughts.

So, i wrote this last year, not sure why i didn't post it.

Maybe i meant to proof it and then forgot it existed.

note from last year: I'd like to apologise to my best reviewer, i pestered you for ideas and when you finally gave me one i didn't/don't know how to write it. I'm hoping the re-watch will sort that out but it'll take some time. I haven't forgotten, just have no idea how to handle it.

-*.-*.-*.-*.-*. story -*.-*.-*.-*.-*.-*.-

Aside from needing the usual groceries, Mustang just wanted to be outside today. It was gorgeous, not a cloud in the sky. Absolutely no chance of rainy humiliation. Perfect!

As if his own brain was sabotaging him, the troublesome pipsqueak popped into his head. He shook it to try and rid himself of the nuisance. Fortunately that kid was still out on a mission, one of the last few he'd ever have to go on before his military contract ended. Mustang wasn't sure what he thought about that yet. Glad to be rid of him? Or sad he was leaving?

Bah! He pushed those thoughts aside. Better not to deal with it right now and just enjoy the day; a beautiful sunny day without the pipsqueak. Peace and quiet to enjoy-

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALL?!"

He groaned. Yup, definitely saw that coming. No peace ever lasted long for the General.

Usually he'd run for it, hide out until Ed was gone. But this time he didn't want to give up the day. Hiding from Fullmetal would mean going inside, or into a shady corner. Not today!

He marched over to resolve the situation and get Ed out of here before anything had gargoyles on it.

That was the plan anyway, it didn't work out like that.

As soon as he pushed his way through the edge of the crowd a giant rock smashed him directly in the forehead knocking him straight to the ground. He hadn't seen that one coming. Literally.

Stars and birdies circled his head as he tried to regain focus.

Everything was lumpy and blurry.

Especially that blurry lump.

"Oi! Are you dead?"

Dammit, Fullmetal! "Yes"

"Ed!" Mustang recognised Alphonse, "You shouldn't talk to him like that since he got-"

"Old?"

"Promoted."

Ed grumbled, then *clap* *slap* and the General felt a chair grow under him. Probably had faces on it laughing at him.

Blinking into focus he was able to distinguish Al and … Ed? He wasn't sure. The crowd was dispersing and as the light brightened his blurry vision became brighter, not clearer as he was hoping. Stupid sun.

An umbrella appeared beside him and with some guidance from Al he was able to grab a hold of it and hold it out a bit to block some light and see what level of destruction the market was at.

It was fine. Then where did that rock come from? He turned to focus on Ed and Al again and distract them from their bickering. Al was there, his armor headless (that must have been the 'rock') but Ed wasn't. Who was that blonde woman that sounded exactly like Ed? And was wearing his boots. And red jacket. And gloves.

Mustang decided this wasn't a sunny day after all. Passing out sounded fabulous, besides, he couldn't even remember why he'd left the house in the first place, though that might be the concussion's fault.

Naps fixed concussions right?