Woy Mustang, Resident Babysitter

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"Woy, do you have any Playdoh?" Edward questioned quietly as he shook the sleeping Colonel's shoulder. Mustang mumbled incoherently and shifted his head, completely oblivious to the blonde toddler.

Edward didn't like to be ignored, especially when he was bored and really wanted something. He placed his skinny arms on the surface of Mustang's desk and carefully hoisted himself up. Once he had swung his small legs over the edge, he sat up and crawled over to the Colonel, who was fast asleep in his chair, half his body propped on his desk with his head resting in his arms.

"Time to wake up, Woy!" Ed said in a sing-song voice. He proceeded jabbing his fingers into Mustang's unruly raven hair, and when that failed to work he began blowing on him.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," Ed's brother Alphonse stated from his upside-down position on the couch.

The blonde scowled at his brother and ignored his warning. "But I'm bored!" Ed whined. "And I know he keeps Playdoh in his desk, coz I saw him put some in there yesterday. Don't you wanna play with Playdoh, Al?"

Alphonse paused thoughtfully. "Maaaaaybe," he replied, his voice becoming strained as the blood rushed to his head from remaining upside-down too long.

"If Woy wakes up he can get the Playdoh for us," Ed explained as he continued to poke and prod at the seemingly lifeless Colonel.

"Why don'cha— Oomf!" Al was cut short as he toppled forward and landed face-first on the floor. He quickly sat up and rubbed his sore back. "Why don'cha get it yourself?"

Ed brightened at the idea, as he was beginning to get bored of attempting to wake the Colonel. He hopped off Roy's desk, walked around to the other side and reached for the top drawer. Luckily, he was tall enough to grasp the knob and jerk it out.

Unfortunately, he yanked it out too hard, and the entire drawer crashed on top of him. Ed let out a small shriek when the heavy object collapsed on him and sent him tumbling backwards.

Alphonse quickly dashed to his brother's side and heaved the drawer off his skinny body. Ed slowly sat up and stroked the back of his head, trying hard to refrain from sobbing.

"Are you okay, Ed?" Al asked in concern as he set the drawer on the ground. Ed forcefully swallowed the growing lump in his throat and bobbed his head, evoking a small grin from Al. "Well, 'least you gotted the drawer down."

Ed picked himself up and peered into the drawer. There was a lot of stuff in there. Some he recognized, such as paper, pencils, rubber bands, coffee mugs, markers and erasers. The other items were unfamiliar to him.

Al followed suit and gave the drawer a once-over. When he didn't spot the notorious colorful containers, he sighed. "No Playdoh in this one," he said as he gave his brother a sideways look. "What do we do now?"

A thoughtful expression appeared on Ed's face. "We could color," he replied as he drew a big box of markers from the drawer.

Al's eyes instantly lit up. "Okay, let's color!" He reached into the drawer and pulled out some clean sheets of paper.

Ed beamed and led his brother to the center of the room, where they had more space to draw. He tilted the marker box upside down to allow its contents to spill onto the floor with a loud clatter.

Al lay down on his belly and snatched up the nearest marker, a shiny blue one, and eagerly began to scribble. Ed mirrored his brother's actions, although he grabbed a red marker instead of blue.

"I'm drawin' me an' you eating ice-cweam!" Al exclaimed.

"I'm drawing a picture of Loot'nant Wiza," Ed said, licking his lips in concentration.

Al quirked a brow as he overlooked his blonde sibling's paper. "Why are you drawing Wiza?"

"'Coz Haboc has too much hair, and Armstwong is scary," Ed explained while adding spiky golden hair to a slightly disproportioned head.

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Colonel Mustang was dragged out of the wonderful land of sleep by the sound of childish giggles. He moaned quietly and slowly cracked open one eye. Apparently, he wasn't in the joyous world of gorgeous women, but instead in his dull, female-less office with his head resting on a damp sheet of paper.

Mustang peeled his cheek off the sodden form and vaguely wondered if there was ink on his face, as the paper seemed to be lacking a large section of writing. He wiped the drool dribbling from his mouth on his sleeve and observed the room.

Did I hear children giggling? Why the…Oh…right. He groggily turned his head and glanced over his desk, hoping to see the two Elric brother's sitting on the floor.

To his relief, both boys were lying on the floor in a heap of papers and markers. They were still in one piece; no limbs missing or blood gushing. Mustang sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Woy! You're awake!" a voice –who Mustang recognized as Ed's– shouted. The blonde toddler leaped to his feet and raced to the Colonel's side to tug on his uniform leg.

"Look, look what I drawed! It's Wiza!" he exclaimed as he shoved a colorful drawing in the Flame Alchemist's face. Mustang furrowed a dark brow and stared down at the child, who was covered in multicolored scribbles.

"Ed, why did you color on yourself?" Mustang questioned the youngster while tracing a purple heart-shaped scribble on his right cheek.

Ed shrugged, "I didn't do it, Al did! Now look at my picture!"

The picture, the one Ed dubbed 'Wiza', consisted of a tall, shapely woman with wild blonde hair and malicious scarlet eyes, holding a gun and shooting a smaller, skinny man with black hair and blood gushing from his forehead.

"See? It's Wiza! And she's shooting you with her gun!" Ed shouted.

Mustang smiled weakly and gave the obsequious toddler a stiff, yet affectionate pat on the head. "Good job, Ed. Nice coloring," he paused, "but you made it slightly disproportioned."

Ed frowned. "Really? What'd I do?" he asked, unable to fathom what 'disproportioned' meant.

Mustang picked up a pencil and carefully erased a section of the picture.

"See, you have to make this part rounder and fuller," he said as he drew two large circles on the gun-wielding woman's chest. "There, that looks better." Mustang showed Ed his addition to the drawing.

Ed blinked. "Woy, Wiza doesn't like melons," he said in a serious manner.

The Colonel snickered to himself. "Oh, maybe she doesn't, but I do!" he gazed off dreamingly, images of a large-breasted Hawkeye invading his mind.

"Wanna see my picture?" Alphonse asked as he popped up on Mustang's other side. The raven-haired man glanced down at the toddler, who, like his brother, had various marks and drawings on his figure.

The Colonel politely took the picture from Al's waiting hands, but kept his gaze on the boy. "Alphonse…which markers did you use to color with?" Mustang asked apprehensively. Though, he already had a positive guess.

"The smelly ones," the bronze-haired child replied, gesturing toward the pile of topless markers strewn on the ground. Ed handed Mustang the empty box.

"Shit! Not the permanent markers!" The Colonel groaned, crushing the box angrily.

Ed and Al giggled, "Ooh, Woy said a bad word!"

Mustang rubbed his temples tiredly and shut his eyes. His hand came in contact with something wet, and he pulled back in alarm, only to find his fingers stained with black ink. "…Shit."

A sudden rapping on the door caused Mustang to shudder. He hastily wiped at his cheek with his sleeve while addressing the person at the door.


"Sir, the Fuhrer would like to speak with you about something," first Lieutenant Hawkeye's voice rang through the wood.

Ed and Al squealed in delight. "Oh, boy, Wiza is here!"

"I can show her my picture!" Al bolted toward the door, but was stopped when a strong hand gripped the straps of his overalls and yanked him back.

"No, Al, we can't let her see you," Mustang told the youngster. Al's bottom lip trembled, but he nodded his head.

"Sir, if I may interrupt, this is a significant matter," Hawkeye stated. The brass doorknob jiggled, and a small clicking noise was heard as the door unlocked. Mustang drew a slow breath as the heavy door creaked open, and Hawkeye's blonde head appeared.

"Sir, you aren't procrastinating are y— Colonel!" Hawkeye's scarlet eyes expanded as she surveyed the Colonel's office.

Mustang was at his desk, his onyx eyes wide with fear and anticipation. His hair was ruffled, and there was a large black stain on his cheek. One hand was tightly wrapped around the straps of Alphonse's overalls, the other held an empty box of permanent markers. Both Edward and Alphonse were staring at the Lieutenant with shining, exuberant eyes. Their clothes were disheveled, and their faces, hands and arms were covered in vivid, multicolored scribbles.

The blonde Lieutenant narrowed her eyes maliciously. "Colonel, you didn't…"

Al finally freed himself from Mustang's grasp and snatched up Ed's picture. He ran up to Hawkeye and wrapped his arms around her legs, waving the picture wildly.

"Look, Wiza! Ed drawed a picture of you!" The toddler exclaimed. Hawkeye momentarily disregarded the Colonel and stooped low until she was level with Alphonse.

"Let me see." She gently plucked the picture from the child's hands and observed it closely.

"Do you like it? Woy helped Ed draw it…" Al trailed off once he noticed the quizzical look on Hawkeye's face. "Ummm," he looked thoughtful. "Oh! I like your melons!" he added, indicating to the hand-drawn Riza's chest.

The blonde woman fumed and got to her feet. "Roy Mustang, what on Earth did you do to these boys?" she screeched.

Mustang squeaked and began to ramble nervously. "N-Nothing! I f-f-fell asleep and they were like this when I woke up!"

"You fell asleep?"

"Y-Yes— No! I mean —"

Hawkeye drew her gun from its holster and began to shoot. The Colonel cried in pain and ducked under his desk, trying futilely to avoid the bullets whizzing passed his head. Ed and Al rolled on the ground laughing and wiping their tiny multihued hands across their colorful, tear-streaked faces.

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"I still can't believe you let the kid's do that," Hawkeye remarked while shaking her head. Mustang ignored her statement and proceeded to gently wipe the blood off his shoulder with a towel.

After their little dilemma, both adults had given the two children a bath in the Military showers. It had taken almost three hours, and the kids still had marker stains on their faces. They had fallen asleep halfway through being dried, and were now huddled together in Hawkeye's lap, snoring quietly.

"It wasn't my fault. I fell asleep," Mustang mumbled under his breath. The ink stain on his cheek had barely begun to fade, despite the Colonel's frequent washing. It would probably take about a month for it to fully disappear.

"You weren't supposed to sleep, you were supposed to be watching the kids," the Lieutenant replied sourly. "And if this occurs again, then I'm afraid they'll have to be taken from you."

Mustang paused, a pensive look gracing his features. For a second, Hawkeye thought he was going to willingly agree to give up the boys, but he proved her wrong.

The Flame Alchemist calmly dropped his towel and ambled over to where Hawkeye was seated. He glanced down at the two sleeping boys fondly, a mixture of determination and distress swirling in his onyx eyes.

"I… can I hold one of them?" he asked tentatively, surprising them both. Hawkeye shot him a disdainful glare before cautiously offering the sleeping Edward. Mustang hesitated, then took the child in his arms. His gaze instantly turned soft when he saw the sleeping toddler's face, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

"No, I think we'll be all right," he whispered. Note to self: Next time lock the office door.

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-Over-Dramatic Sigh- It Took Me Three Hours To Finish This One. It's Currently Five AM, And I'm Exhausted. I Could Have Made A Better Ending, But I Think This One Will Do Fine. (This Oneshot Is Based On A True Story. The Moral Of This Story Is… NEVER LEAVE CHILDREN UNATTENDED WITH PERMANENT MARKERS. Remember That.)