((Alright, this story's going to be a lot of fun! Inspired mainly by this piece of perfection here: post/87065448752/chewytriforce-aahh-ruinsofxerxes-and-i-talked And of course, thanks to my dear wifey for the suggestion of the whole cookies thing.
Also, for the record, I totally made up Brimford. It's probably not a real town in Amestris. Or maybe it is, we'll never know.))

"Geez, the colonel's really been slacking off again..."

Breda sighed and flipped through the pile of paperwork on the table, looking at it with distaste.

"Do we really have to do all these?" Fuery whined.

"I guess so, seeing as Mustang certainly won't," Havoc replied annoyedly. "Still, even working together this is going to take ages... How has he managed to put this stuff off for this long..?"

"Come to think of it, where's the major?" Fuery asked.

As soon as he finished saying that, the office door was thrown open.

"GOOD MORNING, FRIENDS!"

"Well speak of the devil," Falman mumbled.

"Morning, major," Havoc said casually, raising a hand in greeting as he considered whether or not it would be easier to just "accidentally" drop the paperwork down a sewer grate.

"Alright, does anyone else smell cookies or am I hallucinating?" Breda asked suspiciously.

"Nonsense! I brought cookies!" Armstrong announced. "My sister made them!" With that, he placed a (very) large platter of cookies on the table.

"Good, we're going to need a lot of cookies to survive this," Havoc said, reaching for the cookies.

After some more collective groaning and mumbled complaints, the group of soldiers slowly but surely began to make progress on the daunting piles of paperwork. Soon after, the Elric brothers arrived.

"Why are you guys- Ooh, cookies!" Ed exclaimed, grabbing a large handful of the treats. Genius though he may be, the world's youngest state alchemist was very easily distracted by food.

"Hey, Ed. Wanna help us do Mustang's paperwork?" Breda asked sarcastically.

"No way," Ed replied, rolling his eyes and reaching for another cookie. "Hey, these are pretty good."

"Really? And here I thought surely you must hate the piles of cookies you just shoved in your face," Havoc said innocently.

"Oh, shut up!"

"They're not as good as the ones my mom makes, though," Fuery commented.

"Really? Amue's chocolate chip cookies are quite notorious," Armstrong replied, stroking his moustache thoughtfully.

"I've never had cookies that are better than my mom's," Fuery insisted, nodding.

"I'd be willing to bet against that," Breda said casually.

"Yeah, there's no way they can be better than these," Ed agreed. Of course, mom's were better...

"I'll bet you 1500 cenz they're not as good as these," Havoc announced.

"Your funeral," Fuery said confidently.

Suddenly, the door to the inner office opened. Hawkeye exited the room, shot an annoyed glance back at it, and then closed the door. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she straightened the papers in her hand and prepared to make an announcement.

"Everyone, a joint training session with the West City branch has been scheduled for the 24th," she informed the room. "And yes, Edward, you do have to come."

Everyone simultaneously let out sighs of frustration.

"Do I HAVE to?" Ed whined.

"Yes, you do," Roy interrupted, emerging from his office. "...Where'd the cookies come from?" he asked suspiciously.

"The major brought them," Havoc replied.

"Man, this is gonna suck," Ed complained.

"Come on, brother. It can't be THAT bad," Al said, somewhat sympathetic. "It's only for a few days."

"You'd think they would have given us more notice, though," Breda commented. "With all those train derailings lately, it'll be impossible to get there by train..."

"I guess we have no choice but to drive," Roy said reluctantly.

"Don't tell me I have to sit in a car with YOU," Ed moaned.

"For several hours," Breda added. "West City is pretty far."

Ed threw a cookie at him.

"Hey, Fuery. Where does your mom live?" Falman asked.

"Brimford, why?" Fuery replied confusedly.

"Look," Falman said, pointing out a location on a map of the western region. "That's not too far from West City. We can make a short detour and probably still be on time," he explained.

"And why exactly would we do that?" Roy asked, looking somewhat annoyed.

"Fuery claims that his mom makes better cookies than Armstrong's sister," Havoc told him. "The rest of us are betting against him. This way, we can prove we're right."

"I'll finally win a bet for once," Fuery added.

"Absolutely not," Riza began. "We are not going to be late simply for the sake of-"

"Well if there are cookies involved, I suppose we have no choice," Roy announced, a serious look on his face.

"Colonel, are you serious?" Riza interrupted. "You're supposed to be a responsible leader. Don't encourage this sort of behavior."

"I am, and it's my responsibility to not deprive my men of cookies."

Riza threw her hands up in the air. "I give up. This country is doomed," She announced.