This was originally part of my drabble series Pomegranite Punch, but when it reached one-thousand words, I decided to make it a full-out one-shot. XD


Colonel Roy Mustang's office was anything but quiet. As said raven-haired man tried to read the sloppy scrawl that was Edward's report, Havoc and Breda were arguing over—er, some useless topic—Fuery was attempting to calm them down (rather unsuccessfully, but who said the poor soul hadn't tried?), and First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was yelling, loudly but sternly, at the three to shut up this instant.

Edward, however, was sulking on the couch, complaining and grumbling about how many problems there were with his previous mission (gloomy thunderstorms the entire time, delayed trains, angry citizens, dead ends, sleepless nights, terrible food, and to top it all off he'd caught a rather annoying and tedious cold at the end of it all). Alphonse stood in silence, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs and trying to find some appropriate words for the current situation.

Roy groaned. Loudly. As if it would have made a difference—Breda was yelling and flailing his arms by now. Riza had nearly given up at that point. She clutched her gun, although she wasn't in a particularly trigger-happy mood.

"Boy," Riza began, narrowing her eyes dramatically. "Boys!" She growled when the noise ceased to die.

Every person in the room snapped their heads towards the angry woman, startled and eyes wide.

"Either you find something to quiet yourselves or I'll do it for you," She ordered sharply. Roy responded with an effort to defend himself (something along the lines of "I've been trying to retain silence, Lieutenant—but it's impossible with all this noise!"Oxymoron, anyone?) and Fuery shied away timidly.

After a few moments of temporary shuffling, someone—although recalling who it was would be more of a chore and this individual author would rather not do so—suggested a silence contest.

"You know the rules. You make a sound, you're out." Havoc stated for those who had no knowledge of such rules.

Roy raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk evident on his face. "With that cold of yours, Fullmetal, you'll be out before any of us." He said, shuffling his paperwork absentmindedly. "It seems hard for you to even breathe without making some sort of sound."

"Even so, the sound of your ego inflating should drown out any other noise in the room." Edward shot back, arms crossed moodily. And although Alphonse wouldn't admit it, his brother sounded ridiculous through all of the congestion and hoarse voice.

"Whatever, just start the game already." Havoc interrupted before Roy was able to shoot back a (so-called) witty remark.

"Yeah; all this arguing is giving me a headache." Fuery added, a weary look plastered on his face, glasses slightly drooping.

The men in the room nodded simultaneously as Breda counted off, "One… two… three… GO!"

And, for the first time that day, all was silent.

Edward, in order to pertain silence, held his breath to keep that sort of whistling noise from escaping his nostrils (although he did open his mouth once in a while to keep from suffocating himself). All Alphonse had to do was stop moving, which allowed for no clanking. Roy, hands off papers and desk, read the report silently, squinting occasionally as he struggled to make out a few choice sentences. The remainder of soldiers in the room darted their eyes at eachother nervously, anxiously, and, mainly, out of sheer boredom.

This went on for over twenty minutes; admittedly, all six of them were certainly talented at keeping quiet. Riza smiled to herself—this game was indeed having a positive effect on everybody's work.

Suddenly, unable to take the unproductivity level in the room any longer, Havoc jabbed an unsuspecting Fuery in the ribs. Out of reflex, the bi-focaled man emitted a squeak and fell backwards out of his chair. A loud clunk sounded, and Breda snickered. Alphonse, eager to help, scrambled from where he was standing in order to be of some assistance.

Three down.

Breda spent his time trying to get Havoc to talk. Unfortunately for him, however, Havoc was extremely stubborn at that given time. His lips failed to part, and he barely moved, much to Breda's displeasure. Fuery watched in amusement, and Alphonse had the ever-popular "anime sweatdrop" expression. Well — as expressive as armor gets, that is.

Then, Breda, clever as always, reached for the cigarettes in Havoc's pocket. Expectedly, in a state of panic, Havoc grabbed the cardboard pouch from the red-haired man next to him and shot him an irritated glance. Amidst this, he managed to utter a few choice curse words, and, to his own misfortune, Havoc was out of the game.

Only Roy and Edward were left. Fuery, Havoc, and Breda spent their time taunting the two rather stubborn boys, but after about fifteen minutes, they gave up. Both were extremely skilled.

Nearly an hour had gone by, and neither Roy nor Edward had made a sound. Actually, Roy had almost forgotten the game was still taking place and had gotten used to his own silent actions. But, Edward's failure to ever be silent kept his guard up. He continued to decode a sentence that looked suspiciously similar to the words "crunchy man bits" and, unable to help himself, glanced at the golden-haired teenager on the couch.

Silently tapping hid foot to keep his mind off the ever-persistent tickle welling up in his chest, Edward sat, an annoyed expression plastered on his face. His eyes were fixed on the clock, ticking away sardonically. But it wasn't like he would give Roy the satisfaction of winning—the pompous bastard bragged enough as it was. Stupid lily-white colonel with his fancy office and high title and expensive desk and annoying smirk and—oh. Oh, perfect, just perfect. A persistent itch in his nose to go with the one in his throat.

Absentmindedly, Edward brought a hand to viciously rub his nose in all hope that the tickle would be demolished. Luckily, it worked, but the irritation in his throat had increased. The second hand on the clock began to slow down. At first, he believed this to only be a trick of the mind, but when the second hand stopped completely, Edward brought himself to think otherwise.

"Damn clock," He muttered without thinking. To his surprise, however, another voice chimed in with his own—uttering the same words, nonetheless. He quickly turned his head to face his superior.

"Hah!" he boasted. "I win."

"In your dreams, Fullmetal." Roy corrected, rolling his eyes playfully. "I beat you and you know it."

"I think," Alphonse interrupted, "that you both spoke at the same time."

"So nobody won?" Havoc questioned.

"It seems that way." Riza chided.

All that work for nothing.


Gah! Too much writing, bad ending… I seriously need better skills. It should have like, flowed, or whatever. Meh, at least I'm writing at all. Review? I swear I'll write better if you do—really!

Forgive any errors that have to do with math or numbers. xD I'm dyscalculic.