This is a humerous three-part fic that I thought up. Not RoyEd. Lets stick the two people who hate each other together in one house and watch the blood fly!!! (sadistic smile) Sorry, I sent Hawkeye to keep them in line, so no one's going to die.

Ed: Who needs looking after?!

Roy: I think you do, you little runt.

Ed: WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT!!!

Roy: I AM, YOU PIPSQEAK!!!

(both break into spasmodic coughing fits)

Me: Now now children, play nice.

Ed and Roy: !!!

Me: (evil glint in eye) PLAY NICE OR I'LL HURT YOU!

Ed and Roy: Yes ma'am.

(Hawkeye walks in)

Riza: Darn it, I missed the party!

Everyone else: (sweatdrops)

Disclaimer: I love them, but don't own them. I just like jerking them around a lot, that's all.

Sick Day

Edward coughed and coughed, hacking into a slightly crumpled tissue until he thought his head would burst. Finally managing to clear his throat, he spat into the tissue, wiped his nose, and then chucked the now thoroughly crumpled tissue into the overflowing waste basket by the side of his desk. He sat back in his chair for a moment, wheezing until he caught his breath. Rubbing his watery eyes, he leaned back over his desk, squinting at the sea of paperwork strewn across it. There was a slightly larger mountain of paperwork on the other side of the trashcan, where Edward had thrown his finished paperwork in an untidy heap. Unfortunately, the trashcan was now starting to overflow, and the pile of used tissues and the pile of paperwork were starting to integrate.

Giving one last grating cough, Edward picked up a random piece of paper and squinted blearily at the small, black type. It said that he needed to give a two page opinion on weather the plumbing for downtown central should be rerouted into the one for midtown central. Edward made a "tch" of disgust, his golden eyes narrowed. Why did he have to do all this useless garbage? If he'd had any choice at all, he would be back home under about ten blankets. But noooo, Colonel Uptight-stick-in-the-mud said that his paperwork was breeding on his desk, so he'd better go do it. Today. And Ed knew as well as the next person that when the colonel used that tone of voice, he wouldn't be taking any lame-ass excuses. Even if they happened to be perfectly valid. At least Al didn't have to suffer through this, too. Al had gone a week ago to visit Winry and Granny Pinako. Usually, Al was the one who forced Ed to take medicine whenever he wasn't feeling well, but with all gone Ed's small cough had turned into a full blown head cold in no time.

Throwing the stupid report back onto his desk, Edward began mumbling under his breath. Among the distinguishable words were ailments, swears, and Colonel Mustang's name. Obviously, Ed wasn't quite a happy camper. With one hand he began rummaging around his desk for a new piece of paperwork. With the other, Ed pulled a tissue from his almost depleted box on his lap and blew his runny nose. Chucking the crumpled tissue in the vague direction of the waste basket, Ed pulled his next damn piece of paperwork up to his face. He tried to read it, but his head was spinning so bad that he let it fall to the desk, resting his cheek on the cool mahogany. Of course, the rapid movement of his upper body triggered a coughing fit, making his head spin even worse. His golden eyes burning angrily, Ed growled into the air, "When I get my hands on that damn colonel, I'm going to make him eat every on of these damn papers."

Just then Ed's office door opened, and the very person he had just so profanely cursed entered the room. Ed groaned, head still down on his desk. Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. Mustang smirked, looking down at the vertically challenged alchemist with mocking eyes. "Sleeping on the job, Fullmetal? Looks like someone missed his naptime today."

"Shut up, Mustang," Edward rasped out, breaking into a coughing fit that made his head spin. He looked up and glared at Mustang, eyes weary from the sleep he had lost to coughing. "You're the one who ordered me here, jackass, so quit complaining about it!"

Mustang blanched, eyes widening in shock. Fullmetal looked terrible. The red flush that painted his cheeks proclaimed he had a fever. His nose was bright red and sore looking. His eyes had dark purple shadows under them, like he hadn't slept in a week, and were half-lidded and bleary looking. But behind those eyes shone a fire that told Mustang that Ed was pissed. Probably at him, too, for making the sick alchemist come to work in this state. So what did he do? He antagonized Edward, of course. Chances like these don't come along every day after all.

"Nice nose, Fullmetal. It's, hmm, shall we say colorful?" Mustang drawled, smirking openly. He them leaned slightly to the right, dodging the stapler that had been thrown at his head by half an inch. "Oooh," he said, shaking a finger at Ed, who was standing behind his desk looking like he wanted to take a chunk out of him. "Someone's a little cranky today. Feeling beneath your usual standards?" Annnnnd…

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE CAN'T BE SEEN BEHIND HIS DESK?" Ed ranted, jumping up and down with fury. However, this proved to be too much exertion for Ed, and abruptly the room started to spin. He collapsed back into his chair, coughing until he was sure he would see blood on his hand. That bastard. Why couldn't he just leave him alone, now of all times? His head was throbbing now, a lovely counterpart to the stabbing sensation in his throat. Why would today of all days be the time where he had to go to work? Ed squeezed his eyes shut, still coughing.

Suddenly, Ed felt a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles while he coughed. "Take it easy, Fullmetal," he heard Mustang say while his hand comforted him. "Just try to breathe normally." Edward jerked away, falling to the floor with a clatter.

"Keep-away-from-me," Ed coughed out, trying to distance himself from Mustang. Being comforted like that...it was something Mom used to do. He couldn't take that. Especially not from that ambitious bastard.

Roy saw Edward double over, coughing. A flash of regret surfaced. He shouldn't have done that. Edward obviously really wasn't feeling well. Quickly, he walked over and tried to comfort him, to help him stop coughing. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, except for the fact that he had caused it in the first place. He began to rub Edward's back, telling him that everything would be alright if he just tried to breathe normally. As soon as Roy touched Edward, he felt Ed's muscled immediately tense. Edward jerked away, falling to the floor. "Keep-away-from-me," the boy choked out, his golden eyes burning. For a moment, Roy saw something flash in those eyes, but it was gone before he could identify it. But what was he going to do? Edward's face was bright red, and his coughs seemed to be getting worse. But he didn't dare touch the boy incase of another outburst. After a full minute of coughing, Roy started to panic.

"Breathe Fullmetal, breathe!" he yelled. Finally, Edward stopped coughing, breathing heavily and resting his head against his desk, eyes closed. Roy looked down at him and decided to be truthful. "You look like hell, Fullmetal. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Ed was ready to blow a blood vessel. "I tried to tell you, but you hung up before I could say anything!" he snapped. It sounded like Mustang was implying that this was all his fault! "So of course I had to go to work if I didn't want you to court martial me!" Mustang had the decency to look embarrassed, running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry about that, Edward. Why don't you just go home and take the day off?" Mustang said, looking at Ed with sympathy. Clearly Mustang had had stuff like this happen before.

Ed jerked his finger to the window. "I can't. I walked here this morning, and it's raining out now. Getting soaked is not part of my agenda." Roy looked outside. Sure enough it was raining, water drenching the parade grounds as it swept across the field. If it didn't stop soon, central was going to have to build an ark.

"You're probably right," Mustang said, looking thoughtful. "Getting soaked probably wouldn't be beneficial."

"No shit, Sherlock," said Ed nasally. He cleared his throat several times, then pulled a tissue from the box and spat into it. He then crumpled it into a ball and chucked it onto the tissue mountain that was his garbage can. Mustang raised an eyebrow in distaste, both at Ed's actions and the integrated pile of tissues and paperwork. When catching Mustang's expression, Ed scowled and said, "Shut up. I can't help it, I'm sick."

Roy heaved a sigh. "Well," he said, looking slightly exasperated, "Where are you staying? One of us could drive you home, I suppose." Edward looked just a bit uncomfortable, squirming slightly.

"Well," he said, not looking Mustang in the eye, "I usually stay in my room at the barracks whenever I come to central, but last night the pipes in my wing broke down and flooded it. So, I kinda figured I could sleep at the park or something, seeing I'm used to sleeping outside, but then this happened," he said, making a disgusted hand gesture at the window.

"Why couldn't you just fix it?" asked Roy, wondering how something as simple as pipes would be a problem for the young alchemist. Edward looked at the floor and mumbled something. "What's that?" asked Roy mockingly, putting a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you from down there."

"I said I can't transmute when I'm sick!" yelled Ed cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He'd tried to fix the pipes, but he'd ended up puking in front of about twenty officers. He'd rather forget that particular memory. Besides, he hadn't wanted Mustang to know his weakness, however absurd it might be.

Roy blinked, surprised. He hadn't known that about the little alchemist. Suddenly, he grinned. This meant Ed now had to comply if he wanted him to do something. In terms of dealing with Edward, it didn't get better then him not being able to use alchemy. Unless he was hogtied, of course. "All right Edward," said Roy, throwing his hand into the air, "I think you should come back to my office. We'll decide what we'll do with you there." He walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for Edward to follow him. When he hesitated, Roy told him, "If you're worried about paperwork, I'll have one of my subordinates handle it."

Edward looked wary. "What if I don't want to come with you?" he asked hoarsely, eyeing Roy in mistrust.

"Then," Mustang replied, grinning evilly, "I guess you in sleep in the rain." He then walked out of the room, heading towards his office. Ed hesitated for a moment, and then hurried after them, muttering about damn colonels and pipe work.

Ed sat down at the couch situated in the colonel's office, shivering slightly. He was so gad damn cold, even with his jacket on. Leaning back tiredly, he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth form chattering. Around him, Breda, Havoc, Fuery, and Hawkeye were staring at him with various levels of shock on their faces. Mustang was sitting at his desk, looking at nothing in particular while he thought. Finally, Havoc spoke up.

"Damn, kid. Why the hell are you at work?" he asked, looking at Ed's stricken appearance. He'd been so surprised the cigarette had fallen out of his mouth.

"That's what I was about to say," said Breda.

Ed snorted. "That bastard," he said, jerking his thumb towards Mustang, "Chose today to call me in for my overdue paperwork." He sneezed, jerking back in his seat a bit. "Plus," he said, sniffling a little, "My apartment's been flooded." Breda wordlessly tossed over a box of tissues. "Thanks," Ed said stuffily, then blew his nose.

"That's too bad, Edward," said Hawkeye sympathetically. Even if she didn't look it, Lieutenant Hawkeye was such a softie. "Where are you going to be staying?" she asked. Edward just shrugged his shoulders, leaned back against the couch, and closed his eyes. His headache had not gone away, so he wasn't exactly in the mood for conversation at the moment. Plus, all those sleepless nights had taken there toll on him. The rest of the office began to talk in hushed voices, and soon enough he'd drifted off to sleep.

"So what are we going to do, Colonel?" asked Fuery, looking sympathetically at Edward, who was fast asleep. "I mean, he's sick and doesn't have a place to go. We can't just leave him here."

Roy sighed. "Does anyone here have an extra room in there house?" he asked pleadingly. He knew what was coming. One by one, the squad members each shook there heads. "An extra couch?" Roy begged. More shaking of heads. Roy put his face in his hands and sighed. "I guess it'll have to be my house, then," he said, defeated. A puzzled expression crossed his face, and he turned to Hawkeye. "How do you take care of a sick kid anyway?" he asked.

Hawkeye rolled her eyes. Roy was giving her his patented puppy dog eyes. Seen by few, saved for when he wanted to get out of his paperwork. After a few seconds, she caved. Not something she usually did, but Roy did need her help, and she knew from experience that Edward could be a handful. "I'll stay home with you, Colonel, and help you take care of him," she said, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Roy's dark eyes shone with profound gratitude. "Hawkeye, I could kiss you," he said, earning a blush from said lieutenant.

"Yeah, and that's not all he might do," muttered Havoc to his squad mates, who all chuckled. It an instant, Havoc's newly lit cigarette burst into flames, while several bullets nearly missed his hard. Havoc yelped, diving for the door while the rest of the squad took cover behind their desks. Of course, all the ruckus woke Ed, who jerked out of his sound sleep and into a coughing fit.

"Whoops," said Hawkeye, returning her gun to her holster. "Sorry Edward. I forgot you were sleeping." Ed finally managed to catch his breath. After being woken from the first sound sleep he'd ha in five days, Ed was unhappy and more than a tad grumpy. Even so, he knew better than to snap at Hawkeye. When the lieutenant lost her temper, she started shooting people. Mustang was a much better target.

"What the hell was that all about?" moaned Ed, rubbing his eyes and shooting glares at Mustang at the same time, who still had his gloves on.

Roy thought about incinerating Edward, but then decided against it. After all, he was the one who'd woke him up in the first place. "Havoc just said something he isn't gong to repeat," said Roy as a way of explanation. "Aren't you, Havoc?" he said loudly in the direction of the closed door. A whimper of affirmative came from behind it. Roy snorted. "That's what I thought," he said, removing his gloves and putting them back in his coat pocket. Edward shot a look of amusement and pity at the door, then turned to Mustang.

"So," he said, yawning, "Do you know a place where I can stay?"

"Well," said Hawkeye, looking slightly uncomfortable, "We've arranged for you to stay at Colonel Mustang's house."

Ed was silent for a whole five seconds, eyes wide in shock. Then, he exploded off the couch and dashed to the door. "Stop him!" yelled Roy, who dashed after Edward. Ed just managed to get the door open when Havoc nabbed him, restraining him until Roy could get there to help. Ed was coughing uncontrollably, trying to squeeze his protests in between coughs. "Quit struggling, Fullmetal!" shouted Roy, his hands full of a squirming Edward. Even while sick, the kid sure put up a good fight. "I can't have one of the military's strongest alchemists end up in the hospital because he let a common cold get out of hand. You'll come to my house, Fullmetal, or I swear to god I'll court martial you!" Edward finally stopped resisting, chest heaving as he coughed and coughed. Taking his lack of movement as acquiescence, Roy unceremoniously took Ed back to the couch and dumped him there.

Ed was coughing so hard it felt like he was having a seizure. He was shaking wildly, his head was spinning from lack of oxygen. Worst of all, Ed didn't have enough control over himself to stop coughing. He hated not being in control of a situation, and this one was far out of his hands. His chest hurt and his throat hurt, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop, he couldn't stop, he couldn't fucking stop. Finally, after two minutes of uncontrollable coughing, Ed opened his eye and saw six worried faces looking down at him. Not that he care or anything lie that. All his energy had been spent on coughing, and now he was so tired he could barely move. However, he did have enough energy to glare at Mustang and rasp out, "Damn you, you bastard."

"Yup," said Roy, "He's all right. And I was dead serious about court martialing you." He said this to Edward while giving him a hard stare. Ed crossed his arms, sulking.

"You'll also be staying for the next day," said Hawkeye, shooting Ed a look before he could protest, "And I'll be there to make sure you two behave." Mustang tried to look innocent, but couldn't quite pull it off.

"You guys should have a party with Falman. He's sick, too," said Fuery, looking bright eyed as always. Ed mumbled something that sounded like "whoop-dee-do for him", but they all chose not to comment. They were all used to Ed-style tantrums by now.

Roy looked at his pocket watch. "Well," he said, closing it with a snap, "Time for us all to be heading out. Gentlemen, I bid you goodnight." He gave them a quick salute, and they returned it. He turned to Edward. "Time to go, Fullmetal. Hawkeye," he said, turning to his loyal lieutenant, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir,' aid Hawkeye, snapping a salute. Roy grabbed Ed's arm and hauled him off the couch, practically dragging him out the door. The ride to Mustang's house was uneventful, except for the fact that Ed had sneezed eighty-seven times. Roy had counted. Ed was unusually quiet, worn out by illness and the day's events. Finally, they reached Mustang's house. It was modest, well kept, and had a subtle elegance that made it pleasing to the eye. At that point, though, Ed wouldn't have cared if Mustang's house had been some run-down filthy hovel. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Roy walked in, too tired to even turn on the lights. He led Edward up the stairs and showed him the guest bedroom. Ed barely stopped to kick off his shoes. As soon as they were off, he collapsed onto the bed and passed out, not even bothering to get underneath the covers. Roy watched him for a moment, amazed that anyone could fall asleep so quickly. Taking a minute, Roy went and got the spare blanket from the hall closet. Gently, he draped it over the peacefully. After all, he was sick. He'd probably get worse from sleeping in the cold night air.

Shrugging off his moment of parental protectiveness, Roy staggered down the hall and into his bedroom. Slowly, he changed into his night-wear, which consisted of pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt. Quickly hopping into bed, he closed his eyes. Yawning, he let his thoughts drift, where they wandered to what tomorrow had in store for him. Really thinking that one over, Roy groaned. "What on earth have I gotten myself into?" he muttered. But soon enough, the busy day took its toll and Roy fell into a restless sleep.

Cliffie! Next time, they wake up! What will I have them do next? Mwahahahahaha! Review if you want more!