Disclaimer: L.Q does not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Roy opened the bedroom door and crept into the room quietly. His charge was still asleep, golden hair splayed over the pillow and breathing slow and even. Ed's face looked peaceful, more peaceful then it ever did when he was awake.

He looked just like a child.

Roy took a moment to bask in the innocent beauty Fullmetal had when he was asleep, before sighing deeply. He grabbed a pillow off the floor and launched it at Ed's face.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty!" Roy gave a small smirk as Ed groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow.

"We're going grocery shopping today," Roy said. "I expect you to be downstairs in fifteen minutes."

Roy left the room to the sound of muffled cursing.

Edward rolled off the bed with a groan. Was Mustang going to bug him again today? Why the hell did he need to accompany the bastard to go grocery shopping?

He couldn't even remember the last time he had been grocery shopping . . .

Ed shook his head and went through his usual morning routine. He was pleased to see that Mustang was no longer a complete stalker as he stepped out of the washroom and found the hallway devoid of the snapping pyromaniac.

Ed stomped down the stairs and entered the kitchen just in time to see Mustang getting off the phone.

"Who was that?" Ed asked, plopping down into a seat. He was mainly asking out of curiosity; he didn't care who Mustang talked to in his spare time.

"Hughes," Mustang said, turning to the counter and grabbing a plate full of food, before setting it down in front of Edward.

"Say no more, Mustang." Ed started shovelling food into his mouth. "I don't want to hear about anything having to do with that crazy family man."

"Don't talk with food in your mouth."

A painful twinge shot through Edward. How many times had his mother said that to him? How many times had Alphonse said it? Maybe he really shouldn't talk with food in his mouth, if he wanted people to stay.

Not that he wanted Mustang to stay.

Edward growled softly, and finished the rest of his food without saying anything else.

Edward sighed as he followed Mustang through the grocery store. He had forgotten how boring shopping could be. Shopping with Mustang was better than shopping with Winry though; Mustang didn't fangirl over every item and he was paying for everything he put in the cart himself.

Still . . . even though it was boring, he had to admit that maybe he enjoyed it . . . just a little bit though.

Ed scanned the shelves around him. He spotted a package of chocolate chip cookies on a shelf. He snagged them and quickened his pace until he was walking right beside Mustang. Ed reached over and casually placed the cookies with the rest of the items in the cart.

"Put them back Edward."

Edward pouted. "C'mon, they're just a few measly cookies!"

"Exactly." Mustang stopped to examine a can of pasta sauce. "We can make much better cookies at home."

Edward blinked. Did Mustang just say they were going to bake cookies? The only person he could remember saying that to him was . . . his mom. But Mustang wasn't his mom! He sure as hell wasn't his father either.

So . . . what was he, exactly?

Ed shook his head rapidly; there was no need to dwell on such things right now. All he had to focus on right now was the fact that he was going to be getting some cookies.

"You're just full of surprises, you bastard."

"Thank you Edward, I do try, after all."

"Put this on."

Mustang handed Ed an apron. Why he owned a spare Ed didn't even know. He shrugged and put it on, reaching behind him to tie the string around his waist.

"Now, wash your hands."

"Gosh Mustang, I know the basics of being in a kitchen!" Ed turned towards the facet and held his hands underneath the running water. "I've made cookies before too."

"Oh yeah?" Mustang rifled through his kitchen, pulling out bowls, mixing spoons, and measuring cups. "Who did you make cookies with?"

"Mom."

Ed's memory of the day was a bit hazy, but he remembered that both he and Al ended up covered in flour from head to toe. The cookies had been delicious though.

Ed briefly wondered why Mustang was taking the time to do this now. Didn't he have anything better to do on his weekends?

Hmm . . . his weekends were probably normally filled with women. Ed shuddered, suddenly grateful that Mustang had dropped all of his dates to be with him. Sure, the bastard probably didn't have a choice . . . but still.

"I need a cup of brown sugar and half a cup of white sugar."

"Got it." Ed started digging through the cupboards. He swiped a measuring cup off the counter and poured both sugars into a bowl. Mustang added a cup of butter to the bowl and preheated the oven.

He handed Ed a spatula. "Go ahead and mix it," he said.

Ed held the bowl in one arm and started whisking furiously with his right hand.

"Cheater," Mustang muttered as he opened the fridge.

Ed just stuck his tongue out.

Roy straightened up with two eggs in his hand. "Pass me the bowl."

Edward stopped mixing and slid the bowl across the counter towards him. Mustang beat in the eggs one at a time as Ed looked down at the recipe.

He didn't even need to ask before Ed was beside him with two teaspoons of vanilla. Roy placed the bowl in front of Edward and decided to sit back and let the teen take over.

He watched in mild amusement as Ed added the flour, baking soda, and salt. The thirteen year-old measured each amount out with precision, and had his brows furrowed in concentration.

Ed was so cute.

Roy's eyes widened with this realization. He had just called his youngest subordinate cute!

And it was true, with the apron on and his nose scrunched up, Roy could imagine the teen to be a few years younger.

He couldn't help himself. Mustang walked up to Edward and ruffled his hair playfully.

Ed grumbled and swatted his hand away. "What the hell, Colonel?"

Oops. If Roy remembered correctly, Ed didn't like to be touched. He backed off the boy quickly. Verbal teasing was one thing, but if the teen really didn't like physical teasing then Mustang would have to respect that. He didn't want Ed murdering him in his sleep.

"Here."

To cover up what he just did, he thrust a package of dark chocolate chips into Ed's hands. He didn't think Ed would've appreciated it if he had gotten milk chocolate chips.

Ed's face lit up and he seemed to forget all about Mustang's invasion of his personal space. He ripped the package open with his bare hands and proceeded to dump the entire content into the bowl.

All thoughts of Ed being a serious baker quickly left Roy's mind.

"The recipe says for one cup of chocolate chips, not the whole package!"

Ed grinned at him devilishly as he mixed the chocolate chips in. "So? You know there are never enough chocolate chips in the cookies. Besides, this recipe makes four dozen, so I think a whole package is just enough."

Mustang rolled his eyes. Who knew Ed could be so childish? But then again, he was technically a kid.

"If you say so, Edward." Mustang grabbed a baking tray and oiled it lightly. He pulled a small ice-cream scooper out of a drawer and handed it to Ed.

"Use this to scoop the dough," he said.

"Huh," Ed said, taking it. "This is interesting."

"People normally use two spoons, but it's much easier and efficient to use this. We can make perfect cookies this way."

Ed smirked as he began scooping up the dough and effortlessly placing perfect balls on the tray. "If only your perfectionist streak existed at work, Mustang!"

"If only."

The cookies were delicious. Soft, chocolatey, and warm, Edward was in a state of bliss. He hadn't enjoyed fresh-baked cookies in such a long while. There was nobody to tell him not to eat them straight off the tray, either. He popped one cookie after another into his mouth and munched happily, sitting at the table.

Mustang nibbled delicately on his cookie. He was leaning against the counter, ready to pull the next batch of cookies out of the oven when the timer went off.

"So, do you agree that these are much better than the one's you can buy at the store?"

Ed finished chewing and swallowed before answering. "Definitely." He grabbed another cookie. "Now I know that I can just drop by your place whenever I want cookies!"

It was weird. He was sitting in the kitchen of his superior officer, munching on cookies that they had just baked, and yet it felt completely natural. Add Alphonse to the picture and they could be considered one happy family.

Edward blanched and stopped mid-chew. The cookie in his mouth suddenly tasted disgusting. What the hell was he doing? Going to fairs and baking cookies with Colonel Bastard was definitely not normal! And why was his head suddenly full of mushy thoughts about family? Mustang was only his superior. A heartless, cold-blooded killer who loved messing with women and pushing other people's buttons!

Ed swallowed the crap in his mouth with difficulty, and put the rest of his cookie down on his plate. He needed to get away from Mustang, right now. Maybe he could find a nice rooftop to sit down on to clear his head and set his priorities straight. This was his third day with the man and he was already going crazy!

Edward stood up, the legs of his chair scraping against the tile floor loudly. Mustang looked over at him.

"Sick of the cookies already? I told you that it was too much choc – "

"I'm sick of you, Mustang!" Edward lashed out. He dashed to the kitchen doorway and glared back at Mustang. "Just stay away from me! I don't need you messing with my head!"

He ran to the front door and shoved his feet into his boots.

"Stay right where you are, Fullmetal!" Mustang's authoritative voice rang through the house. Even though he was standing there in an apron with oven mitts on his hands, he looked no less intimidating.

Edward froze with his hand on the doorknob. Mustang stalked over to him, pulling off his oven mitts and apron as he neared the young alchemist. Edward wasn't going to wait though. With one last fleeting glance, he quickly slipped through the door and took off down the street.

The sound of his shoes hitting the pavement filled Edward's ears as he ran down the street. All the cookies he had gobbled certainly weren't doing him any favours now, but there was no way he was going to let Mustang catch him. He could faintly hear Mustang's rapid footsteps behind him, but it was too late; he already had a fatal head start.

He pumped his arms and willed his legs to move faster, to take him away from the bastard, and away from all his jumbled thoughts and foolish half-recognized hopes.

Ed heard Mustang call out behind him, but he just ran faster. Why was the bastard still chasing him? Why didn't he just give up?

Truth knew that Ed wasn't something worth fighting for.

His breath started coming in short gasps and Edward was surprised to find moisture gathering in his eyes. Was he going to cry?

Hell no!

If automail surgery couldn't reduce to him to a blubbering mess, then Mustang couldn't either. And Mustang was no one special, he was just a bastard.

Just a bastard.

Edward ran on. He didn't know where he was going, but it didn't matter. Anywhere was fine, as long as Mustang wasn't there. Soon he could no longer hear Mustang in the distance. His footsteps had faded away a while ago.

That was good.

Edward slowed his pace to a tired walk. He paid no attention to the people around him, lost in his own thoughts.

Ed knew he would have to go back at some point. Yes, he could go to his dorm room, but that wasn't a discreet place to hide. And though he bowed to no authority, he had told Alphonse that he would stay with Mustang, so stay he would.

Edward stopped walking and pulled himself onto a high wall. It wasn't a roof, but it would do. He contented himself with just sitting there, watching people go by. He swung his legs back and forth, kicking his heels against the brick wall.

What the hell was Mustang's problem? And come to think of it, what the hell was his problem? Was he suffering from some sort of brain damage from being hit in the head?

Edward stopped swinging his legs. As alarming as it sounded, brain damage was a very reasonable, logical explanation for the way he was thinking.

Brain damage, the air in Central, being in the presence of Mustang, all of them were messing with him, dammit!

But of course, in the end he had no one to blame but himself. It was his fault for not being strong enough to resist. Where was his unshakable will power? Ed bent over and rested his head in his hands.

He wasn't strong. Ed was weak. He wasn't even strong enough to save his own brother, and had instead condemned him to a life worse than death. He was a fool, a moron, an idiot, a monster – a pathetic excuse for a human being.

And he was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

A sense of vertigo suddenly overcame Edward and his eyes widened in alarm as his muscles went slack and gravity pulled him backwards off the wall.

Lest: C'mon Edward! How hard is it to get with the program?! So what if you think you're going crazy? Embrace it and share cute moments with Mustang!

L.Q: Urgh, it's too early for this.

Lest: It's 8am. That's not early.

L.Q: Whatever. Guys, I have some BAD NEWS. The next chapter MIGHT, I repeat, MIGHT, be a little bit late. Cuz, I'm actually still kind of writing it. I started this story with the first three chapters already done and the fourth pretty much completed. So basically, in all this time, I've only written like, one and a half chapters. Sorry guys.

Lest: My my, isn't that a shame? Anyways, do you guys want the recipe for cookies that was used in this story? Just think about it, making the cookies that Roy and Ed made!

L.Q: We're all over the place. And still asleep. Thanks thanks thanks for the reviews guys. I LOVE THEM.