Hello! Dis be Zakkie of DA FUCHAA (Translation; This is ZakuroU of THE FUTURE!)

Okay, so, I realised how many typos and other such horrors were littered through this story, so I went back over it and fixed 'em all! This is the result of my recent proof-reading… I give you, FREEZING COLD – THE BETTER ONE! And remember kiddies; even if you read this fifty years in the future, leave me a review anyway! I might be sixty-something years old, but I can almost guarantee I'll still be checking for reviews! (And if it's not that far into the future…well, the same applies.)

My first fic. Please don't flame, or Roy Mustang will flame you right back A HUNDRED FOLD! Kidding, kidding. I'll just be sad. And then I'LL RAWR! D8 Don't expect a masterpiece, but my friends think it's pretty good. Anyway, it's an angst-fluffy-humour-thingy, if that makes any sense to you. :D It's not Yaoi, for people that don't like it. And if you do like RoyEd, you can pretend it is, if you want. ^-^ Lastly, sorry if I make the characters seem a little OOC, but I didn't pay Roy much mind when I read the manga, so I'm not sure if I got any of his traits out of whack (I really ought to re-read it a few more times…). Same goes for Ed, only that'll be because he's funny when he acts like a little kid. And the story line will be kinda outta whack 'cuz I know that Roy was in Central when Ed found out about Hughes' (WHAAAA) death, but hey, it's Fanfiction! Also, I feel obliged to mention Allypallycally1, who is the entire reason this story is on the web! And this story will be broken into three chapters per chapter because that's how I wrote it. Now, imma shut up and let you read the darn story!

Chapter 1; The Usual Office Antics

Colonel Roy (Flame Alchemist, Bastard, Pretty-cutie-manly-sexy-hunky Roy, Sarcasm, Hero of Ishbal, Flame-y man, Girlfriend-thief) Mustang yawned. Scrawling his name across yet another pointless piece of paper, he sighed. He wasn't really watching what he was doing, not really. His eyes skimmed lethargically over the words, only noting key phrases.

Money required…scribble.

State alchemist pay-check lowered… scribble.

State alchemist pay-check raised… scribble.

REPLY IMMEDIATELY!Scribble. Wait, better do that… later.

Soldiers required to make inquiries as to… scribble.

Marry Riza Hawkeye…scrib—Wait, what?! Roy snapped into focus, reading the letter.

Dear Colonel Roy Mustang,

We would like you to give your opinion on the following matter;

Do you want to marry Riza Hawkeye? Sign below if you agree.

Fuhrer King Bradley


"HAVOC!" Roy thundered. "In here, NOW!"

"Y-yessir?" The colonel's blonde, cigarette-loving subordinate peeked around the door, and then tentatively stepped into the room.

Roy motioned towards the piles of paperwork cluttering his desk. "I have enough papers to deal with as it is, so please refrain from making any personal distributions to this stack, or I will personally set fire to all the cigarettes you own, and then ban you from buying any more."

Havoc opened his mouth to protest.

"Yes, I actually can do that. So don't let it happen again!" Roy finished, tossing the prank document to the floor at his subordinate's feet.

Havoc looked disgruntled. "Yes, sir." Then he brightened. "Ha! You signed it!"

Roy looked blank. "What?"

He stood, craning his neck to get a better view of the paper. Sure enough, his signature was fundamentally there, scribbled across the dotted line at the end of the page. Plain as day. Well, damn it all, Roy thought, irritated. Havoc grabbed the paper and sped from the room, laughing gleefully over his shoulder as he went.

I'm never going to hear the end of this. Roy sighed resignedly and sat back down.

Recent complaints on military efficiency… scribble.

COL. MUSTANG, RESPOND IMMEDIATELY OR YOU'RE FIRED! Scribble. I'll reply… eventually.

Chapter 2; Commonly Referred to as…

Curse the rain. Ruins everything. Picnics, football games, flame alchemy, going outside, and just about anything else Roy could think of. So basically, everything. Especially Flame alchemy. And Flame alchem-ists.

Roy stood outside of Eastern Command, grimacing at the expanse of grey, cloud-laden atmosphere commonly referred to as the sky.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! It's not enough that I getattacked by paperwork, pranked by Havoc, develop a severe headache, get chewed out for not responding to a letter, have my lunch stolen by Black Hayate, be chewed out by Riza for chewing out the dog, then spend half an hour listening to Riza chew out the dog and finally get a phone call from everyone's favourite Fullmetal Alchemist (more like 1/3- metal shrimp), just so he could yell at me for giving him a false lead on the Philosopher's stone (which, of course, I didn't know was a dead end when I told him, I mean, he could at least be thankful!), but now it has to rain as well?! Life can be such a troll, Roy thought, realising he'd probably just pulled off one of the world's largest non-verbal rants of all time. And included the word 'troll'.

He didn't even have a ruddy umbrella. Using his briefcase as a rather flimsy substitute, the military man pelted across the tarmac to his car. Damn today, he thought. Just damn it.

At least Alphonse had been kind to him. The younger Elric had snatched the phone away from his ranting brother and politely apologised for the red-cloaked teen's short temper and sharp tongue, thanking Roy aiding him in their search.

The small pools of the dastardly substance H2O more commonly referred to as 'puddles', sloshed water over the State alchemist's black boots and deep blue military uniform as he ran. The cursed sky-precipitation more commonly referred to as 'rain' had efficiently soaked him to the bone within seconds.

Finally, he was able to throw himself into the sweet, warm, dry, silent, subordinate-less-ness that was his car. Or so he thought.

"I've been waiting for you, Colonel Bastard."

Head-steering wheel.

The short-fused, short-statured, red monstrosity of a teenager more commonly referred to as 'Edward Elric the Fullmetal Alchemist' was currently occupying the back seat of Roy's car.

This was the sort of troublesome situation more commonly referred to as an 'Oh crap', 'dammit' or just plain SUCKY moment.

Chapter 3; Can't Think of a Witty Name for this Chapter

"How the hell did you get in my car?" Roy growled, head still on the wheel.


"What are you doing?"


"What for?!"




Roy rubbed his temples, trying to sooth his pounding head. "Shouldn't you be used to dead ends by now?" he grumbled.

"Every dead end is time we spend wasting, and the longer Alphonse has to stay an empty suit of armour!" Edward shouted.

"No-one said it was going to be easy! You should have thought of that before you tried human transmutation!" Roy yelled back, lifting his head from the wheel, on the very edge of losing his temper completely. He immediately regretted that.


There were many things Roy could have said to contradict everything Edward had just roared, but he settled for, "Look, Fullmetal, I am so not in the mood for this right now, it's been a long day and all I want to do is go home. So get the hell out of here!"

Edward ground his teeth furiously.

"And besides," Roy pointed out. "There's nothing to be done about it now. You can't gain anything from yelling at me."

Edward sneered. Then he stopped and a slight blush hit his face. "Umm… Colonel?"

"What?!" Roy snapped back.

Edward's head hung in an embarrassed a sort of way. "I didn't plan very far ahead… I sort of need a lift."

Roy sighed for the four-hundred and twenty-five million, six hundred and fifty-three thousand, two hundred and eighty third time that day. "Fine."

He stuck his keys in the ignition and started off down the road. The heavy rain and foggy air made it hard to see and he had to pull over several times to check their surroundings.

"This is going to take forever," Edward complained, doodling complex transmutation circles on the misted window by his face. "Can't you find a faster way?"

"No," Roy stated bluntly. "Alright, Fullmetal. I think it should be clear by now that we aren't going to reach your hotel. You have two options. Either come with me to my place or walk. And I wouldn't recommend walking. You won't get far."

"I'm walking," Edward deadpanned. "Alphonse will be waiting for me." He jumped out of the car and into the driving rain.

Roy shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Edward scowled as he watched Roy's car drive off into the rain. He lost after it went about six feet down the fogged-up road.

"Humph," Edward snorted. "Stupid bastard." He turned on his heel, walking off in the other direction. He paused. Wait… Which way am I going?

He glanced around, hoping for a street sign or something that could help him figure out where exactly in East City he actually was. Unfortunately, he couldn't see anything more than a few feet away. Not even the ground. He glanced over his shoulder, disappointed to see that even his (now soaking wet) bright red cloak was barely visible.

"Well. This is just great." He started off down the street. Thirty minutes later, he felt something brush against the top of his head, knocking back the infamous spike of hair sticking up in the middle of his forehead known to all as the antenna. He looked directly up.

There was a tree branch just above his nose. "That was close. If my head were any higher I'd have…"Edward paused, a blank expression on his face. "…crashed into that."

Furious, he snapped the branch right off the tree and threw it away in a temper. "I AM NOT SO SHORT THAT I COULD HIT MY HEAD ON A TRIPWIRE!"

One hour later

The rain was still pelting down as Edward roamed the streets. "D-d-damn. Aut-to-m-m-m-mail's getting s-sore…blah," he grumbled, teeth chattering like crazy. He rubbed his aching shoulder stump, trying to get some warmth back into it. He was ice-cold, and trembling like a leaf caught in a hurricane.

Glancing to his left, Edward realised there was a letter box right up in his face. He read the address with a sneer. You gotta be kidding me, he thought, irked. This is the Colonel Bastard's house!

Hope you enjoyed. Please review if you want to tell me something. Even if it's to say I suck like a vacuum. Please don't tell me that though!

(Future Zakuro says; I'll keep rewriting the story. Hope you have fun reading if you want to keep going!)