Epilogue (a couple days later):

At the Mustang Residence:
Roy Mustang sneezed violently as he made his way back from the kitchen to the bedroom with his bowl of soup. “Ugh... I feel like crap.” He sat on his bed with his lap tray and mentally cursed his subordinates for bringing this bug into the office. He wondered idly if Edward, who had a cast iron constitution, had caught this cold. “Hehe... Probably not. That kid never gets sick.”

At the Elric Residence:
“I hate him! That bastard! He got me sick!” Edward wheezed as he fought vainly against Al’s arms. “Let me go, dammit! I need to kick his ass!”

“Brother, you shouldn’t go out like this, you’ll get worse,” Al was trying to reason with his hot headed older sibling. Edward truly was hot headed since he was running a high fever after catching the cold that everyone from Mustang’s entourage had. Even Mustang had called in sick from it that morning, or so Lieutenant Hawkeye had told them when Edward called in to state he wouldn't be able to make any reports today. “Go back to bed. I’ll make you some soup.”