Well... this is it. I'm actually kind of sad to see it done. I really appreciate everyone's enthusiasm and I'm glad you've stuck with me this long! *gives everyone cookie* This is my first actual full-plot-line story. (I think I've gone up to 2 chapters). To finish, anyway.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to it's respective author.

"You… are hopeless. You're brainless and you seem to think I'm mentally unbalanced."

A sigh. "I'm helpful, have a brain, and you are mentally unbalanced." Edward seethed like a volcano for the fifth time that day, but this time collapsed in the chair and proceeded to curse out the dust particles floating lazily through the air.

"I don't want to do this," he muttered under his breath, his voice slightly begging.

Mustang raised an eyebrow and shot him a look. "Maybe if you ask me nicely…" Edward gave a childish pout, crossed his arms over his chest, and huffed.

"Yeah right, I'm not asking you for anything. And there's nothing about me that's nice!"

"You're going to go to the library, push papers, and hopefully get a papercut." Roy sighed. "Even you can't get in trouble at the library."

Edward, being as he was indeed Edward, stood up and planted his palms firmly on his superior's desk. "Wanna bet? I'll blow the whole place up!" His golden eyebrow arched impishly, an unspoken challenge. Roy's eyebrow copied the movement and they were once again in a staring contest.

"Just make sure you don't blow up that pocket watch, we reuse those things you now." Ochroid broke away first, he spun around, his hair spinning out before landing on his back.

Mustang's breath hitched for a moment, remembering just last week. The bandage and reddish tinge to the back of his head didn't help things. There was an obvious limp in the boy's walk, the wound caused by the bullet still paining him (but he was too stubborn to carry a crutch). He swallowed roughly before noticing that Edward was actually speaking, his voice taunting and cocky, sure to the core, "…blow up the whole town." The young boy stalked towards the door, placing a gloved hand on the knob, a hand that's wrist had a small bulge from the bandage wrapped around to keep the infection from getting worse (shackles can be pretty sharp).

Mustang gave a small cough, just a clearing of the throat, but it was enough to make Edward stop. "Oh, and while you're out there blowing up the town," his voice was it's usual dry tone, "try not to get yourself blown up." For a moment Edward stood there, then he turned his head just enough to peer at Mustang with one golden eye.

"Whatever you say."