A/N: Well, this WAS going to be the fifth chapter, but this seemed to fit better. After, last one you guys got some parental!RoyAl, so this chapter you get some parental!RoyEd! Two exclamation marks... Ugh

Anyways, the next chapter, the fifth, will be the last. Should be up in a week or so, if I don't forget.

Enjoy!

Edward sat grumpily on the Colonel's black leather couch, waiting impatiently for the bastard to be through reading his report. The bastard always insisted that Ed stay in his office until the report was read and filed, though Ed was hard-pressed to find out why.

Edward's Thursday was not going very well. The night before, he had taken the time to carefully write out his report in perfect detail and handwriting, just to get Colonel Bastard off his ass for one day. He'd stayed up well past midnight doing his best to make it right.

However, the next morning, Edward had woken up too late. He'd eaten quickly as the small table in their hotel room, Al warning him the entire time to be careful not to spill his coffee. But did Edward's brain listen? No, it did not!

With one clumsy, stupid movement that Ed really didn't think was his own fault, the coffee cup in his hand had jerked suddenly to the side, spilling it's contents over the rim and onto Edward's bare flesh hand. Usually, it wouldn't have been a problem. But the coffee was freshly brewed and boiling hot, and it scalded Ed's hand badly. Badly enough for Al's First Aid kid handbook to classify it a second-degree burn.

Worse than that, when the coffee hit Ed's hand, his muscles automatically did what any other would do. They jerked his hand away from the pain, spilling more of the coffee and worsening the damage. The coffee hit the table and soaked into the nearest sheet of paper, which just happened to be Edward's painstakingly written out report.

Edward was already running almost ten minutes late. So he'd just grabbed the sopping report and went out to call a cab, allowing Alphonse to anxiously tend to his injured hand.

Soon enough, Edward stood in front of the Colonel with his soiled report clenched in his burned, aching hand while the bastard taunted him about size, lateness, the state of his report, and the connection between the three. Edward had just stood there, fuming, but too exhausted and in too much pain to even try to think of a response.

Which was why he now sat on the couch in front of Mustang's desk, waiting for the bastard to be done trying to read it so he could go and get some sleep.

Mustang looked up the report in his hand. "What did you say you did to it to make it so illegible?"

Ed glared at him. "I spilled coffee on it," he spat, unconsciously pulling his hand back into his sleeve.

Instead of answering, Mustang instead said "You know something, Fullmetal? I've heard that too much caffeine when you're young can stunt your growth. I've known you for, what, three years now? I'm just thinking about how many cups of coffee I've seen you drink during that entire time span. Ha! I think I've finally found the reason why you're so short, Fullmetal!"

Instead of a rant, Mustang instead received a sort of mumbled reply. He looked up, only to find Edward dozing sitting up, his head bobbing up and down and eyelids flickering as his brain simultaneously tried to wake him and keep him asleep. A small smile crossed Mustang's face, and he decided to leave the teen be for a few minutes.

And so Ed got his small(heh) cat nap, and woke up on his own a few minutes later. He looked over at Mustang, who seemed to be working on some of his growing stack of paperwork for once. "Get some sleep, Fullmetal?"

"I-I guess, yeah. Why'd you let me sleep?"

"You're obviously exhausted, and I didn't see the point in waking you."

"...Oh. Well thanks."

Mustang smirked, but didn't say anything. Well, it was really more of a soft smile and less of a smirk. Ed knew enough about the man to know the difference, as much as knowing the guy at all irritated him to no end. But it was good to know that Mustang wasn't an all-out douchebag just waiting for the right moment to spill the beans about his automail and Al's body to the military.

It really was good to know.

Mustang glanced back at the teen to find him deep in thought, and looking like he may want to pass out again on the couch. He made a decision. Mustang dropped the report into a folder and slipped it into a drawer where it would be safe for awhile. "Hey, Fullmetal," he called quietly.

The teen looked over at him in a sleepy haze. "Why don't you go back to your hotel and get some actual sleep, okay? Come back tomorrow when you can answer questions without falling asleep."

Edward nodded, too exhausted to argue. Usually, he would have just kept on truckin', but today was not one of those days. He stood, swaying on the spot for a moment before making his way to the door. "Bye, Colonel," he called over his shoulder, reaching out his hand to turn the knob.

Mustang paused, staring narrowly at Ed's hand. "Fullmetal?"

Edward gave him a tired look. "What happened to 'get some sleep'?"

"Still in effect, Fullmetal, just wondering. What happened to your hand?"

"What, are you trying to rub it in or something? I used it to get Al's body back."

Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not the metal one, Fullmetal, the flesh one. I know you're tired and all, but come on!"

Edward glanced down self-conscientiously at his remaining hand, still on the door knob. "Oh. Coffee, remember? I spilled it on my hand, too."

"Has it been treated? How bad's the burn?"

"When did you turn into a field medic, bastard?"

"In Ishbal, when friendly soldiers were sometimes accidentally hit with my alchemy. Now, has your hand been treated?"

Edward seemed to shake himself. "Uh, yeah, Al wrapped it up for me before I left. I don't know if he did anything else to it, though."

Roy began to dig through his desk drawers, looking for a simple First Aid kit. "Sit on the couch, I've got something that will help with that pain."

Luckily for him, Roy figured, Edward seemed too tired to actually argue. He just sat compliantly on the couch and waited. Maybe not so luckily? Edward had never done anything compliantly, at least not for Roy! Kid must really need a nap.

Roy found what he was looking for and walked to the couch and picked up Ed's hand and began to unwrap the bandages around it, wincing when he got a look at the burn. "I love a hot cup of coffee as much as the next guy, Fullmetal, but maybe for future reference, you shouldn't drink it so hot you get second degree burns."

Edward glared half-heartedly at him. "I was running late, and I guess my muscles were all jittery or something." He glanced out the window at the overcast sky and shifted uncomfortably. "It also could've been the sudden change in weather. It does weird stuff to my ports sometimes, and then it kind of effects my whole body."

Roy winced in sympathy, taping the last bandage in place over the burned area. "All done." He glanced out at the sky too and his brow furrowed. "Is Al in the office?"

Ed shook his head. "He stayed back at the hotel. There were some new books we got, and he said he'd get a head start on reading them while I was here. Why?"

"I'm not sure I want you leaving on your own."

Ed rolled his eyes. "You kidding, bastard? You have me go on life-threatening missions, sometimes by myself, and you don't want me going out in only potentially bad weather?"

Roy glanced out at the sky, then back at Ed. He wondered if Fullmetal realized he was rubbing his automail shoulder port, though from the way the kid was arguing, he guessed not.

"It's just looking like it's gonna be a bad storm, Fullmetal, and you said yourself that bad weather messes with your ports."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Edward turned to leave, but Roy stopped him again.

"Seriously, Fullmetal, don't leave quite yet."

"Nothing's happening! It's just all gray!"

"And going to get worse, I've been listening to weather forecasts for days about this storm!" As if to prove Roy's point, and loud clap of thunder sounded throughout the building and lightning flashed a second later.

Edward glanced out the window again, only this time, he looked slightly nervous. Thunder boomed again, lightning flashed, and the rain started pouring. "Okay, yeah, maybe not leaving."

Roy smirked. "That's what I thought."

"Don't know why you're so glad, bastard, as that wet stuff outside makes you useless."

Roy flushed slightly, but not enough for the kid to notice. "That's if I'm outside, Fullmetal, which you'll notice we're not." He stood and paced to the window, staring out at the rain. "It's actually quite nice, you know, when it's not making me utterly useless to the people I care about."

"You're not gonna go all soft on me now, Mustang, are ya?" Ed complained, though there was no real complaint in his voice.

"I think I'm probably softer than you'd ever bargain for, Fullmetal."

Edward shuddered. "Yeah, sure." He looked around. "Hey, mind if I-"

CRASH

The lightning strike and its thunder sounded and showed at the same time, the light from the strike less than a quarter of a mile away. A moment later, the lights went out. Complete darkness shrouded Central City.

Roy dug in his pocket for a moment before pulling out one ignition glove. He slipped it on, snapped, and held a small, dancing flame in his palm. The fire didn't go anywhere, or go out, but kept feeding on the oxygen in the room.

They both listened to the sounds of many people in the building give exasperated sighs and grinned simultaneously. "You were saying, Fullmetal?"

"Uh, yeah, since I can't leave, you mind if I just sleep on your couch?"

"It's all yours."

Ed didn't even bother with a thank you. He just flopped down on the couch and drifted off almost immediately. A moment later, Hawkeye entered the room, holding several candles. She set them on the Colonel's desk and turned to examine Edward, who looked very young and innocent in sleep, if a little pained because of the severity of the weather.

Both Riza and Roy smiled when looking at the teen.

It was a change of pace, and all in all, peaceful.