Hey, everyone! I've decided to update (finally) with an excellent chapter featuring a song by the Arrogant Worms. It's called "The Happy Happy Birthday Song" and it's on the album "C'est Cheese". Best. Song. Ever.
I'm sorry that my updating has been nonexistant this summer. I have been grounded for not turning in assignments for Bio and Geometry (in my defense, my bio teacher never told me when I had missed work during absences and expected me to be psychic. Bitch.) so I hope that this update will satisfy some of you... At least a little bit...
If you saw How To Train Your Dragon, and are somewhat curious to see what may be in a crossover with that and FMA, please... just check out Metal Men... I need soooo much critique on that story its ridiculous...
Thank you so much for reading, darling readers! I love you all. (Yes, in that way that just makes it awkward. ;3) Reviews are appreciated, however, they are not necessary. Suggestions for future chapters are also totally welcome!
If I owned FMA... Seriously, would I be writing these? No. They'd already be in the story, silly!
For once since they had been moved to Central, Roy Mustang's unit was completely silent as they somehow diligently did all of their paperwork. The incident with Hawkeye a week ago still had them reeling and the four men kept sneaking side glances at her, as if trying to make sure she wasn't going to implode.
"Good morning, boys, Lieutenant," Mustang said, throwing open the door and striding in. His face was adorned with a goofy grin and he had a certain skip in his step, causing Falman, Breda, Feury, and Havoc to exchange puzzled glances.
"You're late today, sir," Hawkeye said, cocking a thin eyebrow at her superior.
"My apologies, Lieutenant. But can't the birthday boy sleep in on his big day?" The Colonel grinned goofily.
"Ordinarily, sir, I wouldn't deem it much of a problem. However, you have been sleeping in for the past five years I've worked under you. Your present is on your desk; happy birthday."
"Thank you, Riza," the man said with a chipper smile, trotting over to his desk and plopping down. He picked up a small package addressed to him and read the note that was attached. A blush crossed his fair face and he gawked at Hawkeye after he read the note.
She gave him a coy wink and a smirk before returning to her paperwork, smile still firmly in place.
Mustang shook his head fervently to get the blush on his face to calm down and tucked the gift into a drawer on his desk. He then turned to the stack of paperwork that had been waiting for him for a good two hours and frowned. How he loathed paperwork!
Hours quietly passed, interrupted only by the sound of music on the small hand-held radio that Havoc kept on his desk to listen to and by the occasional officer poking his head in to say, "happy birthday" to the colonel.
When Roy finally left for lunch around one, though, things started to change. The second he was out of sight and heading towards a café downtown, a hodgepodge of soldiers including Maria Ross, Denny Bloch, Maes Hughes, and even fourteen-year-old Edward and thirteen-year-old Alphonse Elric, with the help of Mustang's team, began to unfold a scheme that had sat dormant for months.
Alphonse was in charge of streamers and gleefully went to town, hanging them up everywhere he could find a place to tie them. Edward started hiding gifts in a corner someplace with the help of one of the sergeants who'd come to help out, Hawkeye and Ross ordered Bloch around to finish icing the cake, and Hughes was… well, he was snapping photos, like he did every second of every day.
Within an hour, Mustang's office was unrecognizable beneath the streamers, balloons, and all manner of party decorations. And of course, heaps of food and beer that Breda had already gotten into.
As soon as the Colonel entered the building again, one of the secretaries at the front desks called the office to inform the (increasingly large) group of military members that they had two and a half minutes to get everything in order.
The group silenced and waited with baited breath for the second that Mustang would open the door.
Footsteps grew closer and closer. The door opened. Soldiers screamed.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COLONEL!"
Roy Mustang looked a little bewildered at the group of well-wishers. "Whuh?" was his intelligent response as he backtracked slightly, stepping out of the crowded office.
Fuery was grinning like an idiot, Falman was hiding in the corner with a book, not really interested in parties, Breda was well on his way to being drunk, and Havoc was… Nobody was really sure where Havoc was.
Mustang was overwhelmed with the people, but he grinned and took it all with good grace. After all, it wasn't every day you turned twenty-seven. Oh, jeez, that makes me feel old, he mused.
There was a loud, obnoxious, "ahem!" from the back of the office and Mustang turned, seeing the adolescent midget grinning stupidly with his arms folded across his chest. "Happy birthday, Mustang!" he called.
"Thanks, Fullmetal," the colonel called back, curious to see what the teenager's next move would be.
"Here's a little gift from me to you," he said with a trademark evil smirk. "Havoc, if you please."
Havoc was finally spotted behind Edward with what looked like a banjo in his hands. His cigarette hung limply from his lips and he smiled widely. He began playing said banjo and Mustang was throroughly amused. What the Hell kind of present was a guy with a banjo and a kid with a short complex?
And then, Edward opened his mouth.
"Once a year we celebrate
With stupid hats and plastic plates
The fact that you were able to make
Another trip around the sun.
"And the whole clan gathers round
And gifts and laughter do abound
And we let out a joyful sound
And sing that stupid song."
"You're kidding me," Mustang muttered, his jaw slackening as Edward gleefully dropped to his rear on the desk and kicked his legs back and forth, smiling as though he'd just won the lottery.
Now you're one year older!
Your life still isn't over!
You did not accomplish much…"
At this, Mustang twitched.
"But you didn't die this year,
I guess that's good enough.
"So let's drink to your fading health
And hope you don't remind yourself
The chance of finding fame and wealth
Decrease with every year.
"Does it feel like you're doing laps
And eating food and taking naps
And hoping that someday perhaps
Your life will hold some cheer?"
At this point, Havoc, Falman, Fuery, and even a slightly-tipsy Breda joined in, the latter three throwing their arms around each other and swaying idiotically.
What have you done that matters?
You're starting to get fatter
It's downhill from now on.
Try not to remind yourself
Your best years are all gone."
Ohh, he was going to torch his subordinates to a crisp. They would be burnt crispier than bacon left too long on the griddle. Mustang resisted the urge to snap then and there and blow the entire room to smithereens.
"If cryogenics were all free
Then you could live like Walt Disney
And live for all eternity
Inside a block of ice.
"But instead your time is set
This is the only life you get
And though it hasn't ended yet
Sometimes you wish it might."
At this point, Hughes decided to sing along with the others, snapping photographs every once in a while of Havoc's banjo-plucking and Mustang's hysterical facial expressions.
You wish you had more money.
Your life's so sad it's funny.
How much more can you take?
But your friends are hungry
So just cut the stupid cake!
Happy birthday, dear..."
The song ended slightly abruptly with all six of the singing males shouting out names, none of which even sounded like Roy's. The Flame was pretty sure he caught the names Bill, Ralph, and, for whatever reason, "Skippy the Bush Kangaroo".
Edward's Cheshire smile grew wider and he said, "Happy birthday, you old geezer."
With a single snap, Edward found himself scorched nearly beyond recognition. A fortnight's stay in the hospital, though, was well-worth the look on the Colonel's face during the song. Definitely well-worth it.