All because of a damn cold.

Chapter four;

The routine.

AN: hello again! You should all be horrified to hear that my cold seems to be getting worse and not better, but thank you very much VenusOfhaecate for the sympathy. So I think I may have to make Ed get sicker too, because I should not be made to suffer alone!

I think you may be right--, perhaps I should wrap my cold in newspaper…that way at lease the receiving person not only gets a crappy cold, but also receives free information on local activities! Hooray!

Thanks to; Ria, merlyn1382, venusOfHecate, and mwagirl who gave me great reviews, as well as dark angle59 who put me on their fave list! I love and cherish you all! And its good too see some old faces as well as new!

Mmmkay here we go, now I am going to answer some questions raised by my favourite people (my loyal reviewers!);

1; Alphonse is in a human body, and that is why he is inviting Winry over wiggles eyebrows

2; well the duckie pattern wasn't deliberate I swear…but now you mention it…thanks for the idea!

3; this is an Edward and Roy fic. But as I detest having amazingly soppy love story's, this one will be more of a competition between the two…you will see how later!

4; I decided that this chap isn't going to be the one with Roy in it. Sorry, but I had the choice of updating not and keeping the chap shorter or keep writing and update tomorrow or the day after. So I chose to do it today, but I swear that I will do the next chap this week, so all you roied (Roy x ed) fans will get your fill of the flame.

Oh by the way; I am on a roll at the moment! But please don't get used to such regular, speedie updates. I will, undoubtedly, get a writers block at the worst possible moment and you will all be left stranded, clutching at the finished chapters and praying to the gods for a inspiration lightning bolt to strike me on the head and send me back into the land of words…to help prevent me ever needing a lightning strike or a new muse, feel free to send me some ideas about what could happen later on!

Ok, I am done now! On with the show!

Disclaimer; they own the neighbourhood, I just rent the house!

Belledonner

Smack

Heavy breathing.

thunk

"Havoc, go help the thing at the door," Riza said, not glancing up from her paper work as Jean heaved a long-suffered sigh and she was 'forced' to reload her gun and then motion with her brand new revolver towards the door, finger twitching with the urge to try out her new toy on a moving target, her other fingers occupied with signing the colonels name on the supply order forms. "I would be going now."

thud, thud

scra-ape.

wimper

"Fine fine, I'm going, I'm going." Havoc murmured around a cigarette.

"And what did I say about smoking in the office?"

"Err, not to?"

"Yes, that's right."

There were two gunshots in the space of a minuet.

Havoc was now missing the cigarette formerly dangling from his mouth. He was also strangely missing the cigarette packet he kept hidden in a secret double lining in his butt skirt, it never failed to amaze him –in a frightening sort of way- how the first Lt knew everything that went on with everyone and everything in the office.

"Nice boxers Jean, pink suits you."

Apparently she also knew what colour his boxers were. But that wasn't so surprising, seeing as how the second bullet had not only destroyed his emergency cigarettes but also managed to tear though three layers of cloth and reveal a rather large section of his pink poker-dotted boxer shorts.

He lunged towards the door with one hand stretched towards the handle while his other tried to hold together the pieces of his butt skirt.

A soft thump sounded on the carpet behind him and havoc cursed the mediocre stitching in his military uniform as his mind registered another unopened packet of cigarettes hitting the floor.

The soft thud was quickly followed by another round of bullets and the thought; there goes another pack I never opened…again.

Havoc reached the door before Riza could say –or shoot- anything else. He quickly backed himself up to the wide doors, his hands groping behind him as he tried in vain to find the door handle.

A second earlier and he would have opened the door and avoided what was to come. A second later and he would have been spared the pain and laughter that was to follow.

He was suddenly squashed against the wall by a very large, very heavy and very solid inanimate object. This was followed by the sound of tearing fabric.

Edward threw the doors wide and stumbled in. The odd sound of tearing fabric met his groggy ears, as well as a muffled objection that seemed to be coming from behind the door. How strange.

You would think, after 10 minuets of bashing against that bloody strong door, they would hear me and let me in. but no-o, they have to leave me, on the floor, half dead and coughing my guts up. And now I have SNOT, more bloody snot, running down my face. Just bloody brilliant! His mind was still catching up on lack of sleep it seemed, his body going through the usual routine of dodging a bullet from Riza for being late, being sternly reprimanded for the same reason from Falman, grabbing a half eaten beagle from the desk Breda had left it at –the man was probably already asleep under the desk by now, that is if he wasn't at the mess hall –, have a black coffee shoved in his face by Fury and then finally stumbling behind his own empty desk and landing heavily in his chair.

Except, as his mind had not caught up yet, he didn't notice the change in his routine.

First: he failed to notice that the bullet today just barely missed his temple when he didn't duck as fast as expected.

Second: he didn't hear the lecture that ended in a mumbled question coming from a shocked Vato -who had just noticed that havoc was trying to dislodge himself from the gap between the rather unfortunate wall and a slightly splintered door and still hold together his pants and butt skirt, witch were currently being held together buy what seemed to be a single thread. –

Third: instead of his usual stolen beagle, he had mistakenly picked up what seemed to be the remains of a three-week-old pie slice, lying beside his usual breakfast that seemed to be turning blue and oozing a peculiar purple liquid.

Fourth: he was given the wrong coffee by Fury –who was currently on top of a pile of important-looking paper work on his desk and in tears from laughing as he watched havoc turn the same shade as his boxers, witch were the only things left on his lower half (his pants and butt skirt had given up after a long hard struggle to hide his bright pink boxers).

Fifth: for some reason his chair wasn't where it should be.

And then his brain decided to speed up.

So did gravity.

CRASH.

Havoc seized his chance to escape while the attention was diverted, and bolted for the door, shreds of blue cloth and the odd cigarette trailing behind him.

And Edward was left on the ground, covered from head to toe with a very milky coffee and that odd slime from the pie –witch was currently crawling away from the puddle of spilt drink and the fuming Edward that seemed to be in the centre of said puddle. –

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Splash.

Tap, splash, splosh.

Edward decided to just stay were he was, the swirly mould patterns on the ceiling were truly fascinating, and who, in their right minds would give up the chance to study the damp ceiling for hours? A thought registered in his brain; isn't the basted colonel supposed to be hot? Why is the roof so damp then…? Unfortunately his earth shattering musings were interrupted but the owner of the foot tapping in the coffee puddle next to his ear.

Tap, splosh, tap.

Splosh, splash, splash.

Tap, splash, tap.

And then his day got even better.

"The colonel is ready to see you now. You were due to report two hours ago." The words were accompanied by the friendly and ever present sound of a gun being cocked when he didn't move.

When a warning shot passed bare millimetres from his nose, then he moved. His coffee soaked dressing gown–he still hadn't registered the fact he wasn't wearing his usual coat, even with the yellow duckies impairing his vision with their too happy brightness- flung out behind him as he marched towards Mustangs closed doors.