A/N: Happy Halloween! :D (I'm too tired right now to think of anything else to say.)


"Please, Brother?"

"No. Absolutely not."

Ed glared at Al. Al glared at Ed—well, as well as a suit of armor could glare, anyways.

"I don't see why we can't put off just one night," Al objected.

"Al," sighed Ed exasperatedly, "we don't have time. We need to look for more leads."


"Though it pains me to say this, need I remind you that you won't even be able to eat the damn candy?" Ed asked.

"That's not the point! It's about having fun!" Al said.

"What, having fun knocking on random strangers' doors and saying 'Oh, hi, I don't know you, but do you want to give me some candy?'"

Al looked a bit miffed. Then, with a sigh of supposed defeat, he tried switching tactics. "Alright, fine. I guess we don't have to..."

"Thank you for understanding."

"I see how little you care about me." The armor-bound soul made a sound akin to sobbing.

"What!" He was trying to trick him, Ed knew. Well, it wasn't going to work. "Why the hell do you think I'm trying to find the Philosopher's Stone? For you!"

"Brother won't even let me be a kid again for just one night..." Al continued mournfully to himself.


Ed was wavering, Al knew, and so he gave just the right push to convince his brother.

"I suppose I overestimated him. I thought that, being a genius child prodigy, he would be able to make up the lost time easily. I guess I was wrong."

Ouch. A direct blow to his pride. Ed gave Al a wounded look. "You're evil, Al. An evil, evil baby brother."

If Al had a face, Ed was sure he would be grinning (evilly). "I learned from the best."

"Screw you." Scowling, Ed said, "All right, let's go, then. Get it over with..."

"Wait!" cried Al, shocked. "We can't possibly go trick-or-treating without costumes!"

"What. The hell. First off, how are you even going to wear a costume in that armor? Just go like that. Secondly, there is no way I'm putting on some stupid costume."

Al seemed hurt by the armor comment and said, "Well, Ithink you would make a great pirate."

"Yeah?" Ed asked cautiously, sensing that his evil younger brother had something evil in mind. "And why's that?"

"You could transmute your automail into a peg leg and hook hand."

"Really? Then I think you should be the Tin Man. He doesn't have a heart!" Ed retorted.

"Brother!" Al gasped, placing a hand over where his heart would be.

Worried that he had gone too far as he tended to do when he spoke without thinking (which was always), Ed took a step towards his armored brother, saying, "Hey, Al, you know I was just jo—"

"That's a great idea!" Al interrupted enthusiastically. "Then I don't have to worry about a costume!"


"Come on, Brother, just be a pirate. Then we can go!"

Ed sighed heavily and grumbled, "Fine. But just this once, okay? There's not a chance in hell that I'm transmuting a peg leg, though."

And so, Ed took some of his clothes and transmuted them into a gaudy red and black pirate costume, complete with an eyepatch (but no hat, because Ed felt he looked stupid in a hat).

Grabbing a couple of bags, he headed for the door. "C'mon."

"Wait," Al said. "Your hand."

"What about it—oh, no, no, I am not transmuting my hand into a hook."

"Pretty please?"

"Don't look at me like that, Al. Nuh-uh. No way."

Al was silent for a moment, then he made a noise indicating comprehension. "Oh, I understand now... Brother is worried he won't be able to transmute his hand back afterwards because he won't be able to clap... I see I overestimated his skills as an alchemist."

"You're really pissing me off tonight, Al," growled Ed as he transmuted his metal hand into a hook. Tucking a couple pieces of chalk into his pocket (just in case), he said in annoyance, "Now can we go?"

"Okay," said Al, sounding satisfied.

The brothers left the dormitories and headed for one of the many house-lined roads in Central.

A young woman opened the first door they knocked on.

"Trick or treat!" Al said brightly.

Ed repeated the phrase in a mumble, looking embarrassed to be out trick-or-treating at his age.

"Oh, what wonderful costumes!" the lady gushed, dropping some candy into their bags.

"Thank you!" Al chirped. He nudged Ed, who remained silent. "Brother, say thank you," he hissed.

"Er...thanks," Ed muttered.

"Don't mention it," the woman said cheerily.

The two turned and walked to the next house, and the rest of the houses on the road. As they walked to another street, Ed dug into his bag and started munching on some of his candy.

"Hey, what're you gonna do with your candy, Al?" Ed asked as he swallowed some chocolate.

"Dunno. Give it to you, I guess."

"Hmm... Do you know how insanely unhealthy this is?" Ed asked. He licked a lollipop experimentally, then made a disgusted face. "Ick." He threw it in a random bush.

"Brother!" Al said scoldingly.

"What?" Ed asked as he unwrapped a differently flavored lollipop.

"You shouldn't litter," his brother replied disapprovingly.

"Eh, who cares?"

"Hey, you!"

Ed glanced towards the voice and saw a patrolling military officer coming towards them. "Ah, crap," he mumbled.

"Told you you shouldn't have littered," whispered Al as the officer strode up to them.

"Where are your parents, kid?"

Oh, great, not this again. "What's it to you?" Ed sneered.

"Children aren't supposed to be out alone at night," the officer answered.

Ed bristled angrily. "I'm no child."

"Brother," Al began warningly, but the officer cut him off.

"Really." The man raised a skeptical eyebrow. "How old are you?"


"Not a child. Right. Why don't I take you kids home now?"

Rolling his eyes, Ed pulled something out from his pocket. The look on the man's face when he recognized the pocket watch that identified State Alchemist was priceless. "I'm sure I can handle myself just fine," Ed said, "no escort necessary."

The officer gaped. "You—you're—"

"Come on, Al," said Ed, ignoring him.

"Er—right!" Al trotted after him. "I'm proud of you for not beating him up."

"Feh. Least he didn't think you were my father or something, that'd be awkward," snorted Ed as he knocked on another door.


Ed was about to say something else, but the words died in his throat as the door opened and he came face-to-face (more like face-to-chest/shirt until Ed looked up. Why did he have to be so short? Sigh.) with Roy Mustang.

Ed stared at Roy. Roy stared at Ed. Roy smirked, freaking smirked, and Ed knew he was screwed. He groaned inwardly to himself. Great. Not only did some military officer (probably ranked lower than him, he realized) try to tell him off, now Colonel Mustang would know that the Fullmetal Alchemist, the youngest alchemist in the military, went freaking trick-or-treating this Halloween. Would he ever live this down? Could his night get any worse?

Roy bent over until he was level with Ed, much to the latter's displeasure, and reached out a hand to ruffle the boy's hair in mock affection.

"Is little Fullmetal having fun trick-or-treating?" Roy asked, still smirking.

"Shut the hell up and give me some goddamned candy, you condescending bastard."

Roy straightened up and reprimanded him, "Small children shouldn't be using such language."

"Good thing I'm not a small child, then, huh?" Ed replied, refusing to give Roy the satisfaction of seeing him totally lose control.

"No," Roy agreed, "you're not. You're just a short...diminutive...tiny..."






Behind him, Al slapped his hand against his forehead.

Fuming, Ed said, "You know what? Screw you. I don't want you candy anyways. It's probably poisoned. Or, at the very least, contaminated by your bastard-ness."


"You heard me, bastard." He turned and stomped off.

"Um, sorry about that," Al apologized, and hurried after Ed. "Hey, Brother, maybe you should—"

At that moment, a flying candy bar hit Ed on the back of the head.

"Oww! What the hell?" Ed spun around. "What was that for?" he yelled to where Roy was still standing at the door to his house.

"I don't deny little boys their candy on Halloween," the Colonel replied.


"Brother," Al said exasperatedly. "Just say thank you and let's go."

"Ha ha. Very funny. I'd never thank that jerk for anything. Ever." He scooped up the chocolate from the ground and tore off the wrapper. "Come on."

"I thought you said that was poisoned. Or contaminated by his ba—"

"Don't say bad words, Al," Ed said, cutting him off.

"I was just quoting you!" Al protested.

"Doesn't matter."

"Besides, it's not even really profanity," he continued reasonably. "It's a—"

"I know what a bastard is!" Ed interrupted again. We are bastard children, remember? But he didn't voice his thoughts out loud.

Al seemed to sense Ed's discomfort, and changed the topic. "Let's go to the next street, okay?"


About an hour later, Ed dragged himself into his and Al's dorm room, dumping his bag full of candy by the door.

"Ugh...I don't feel so good," he groaned, shrugging off his pirate coat. He'd transmuted his hand back to normal a while ago, but he was too tired to fix up his clothes right now.

"You shouldn't have eaten so much candy."

"Oh, shut up. I bet it was the chocolate I got from the Colonel...I didn't think he'd actually poison it, but geez—"

"Colonel Mustang wouldn't try to poison you," Al pointed out calmly.

"And why wouldn't he?" Ed replied, falling onto his bed. "Man, I'm beat." Really, he felt more than beat. The cold had started to make his automail ports ache dully, and he felt exhausted, grouchy, and annoyed. And sick. Maybe he did eat too much candy. And he would have to go see Mustang in his office tomorrow. Mustang, who had seen him go trick-or-treating. Who would inevitably taunt him endlessly.

"Well!" exclaimed Ed irritably. "We went trick-or-treating, like you wanted. Happy now, Al?"

"Yeah," Al replied contentedly. "I am."

Sometimes Ed wished he could stay mad at his brother longer than a few seconds, but it was impossible, so he just smiled and said softly, "I'm glad."