Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Sadly.

This is my first time doing fanfiction for FMA, so I'm pretty excited!

Oneshot #1: Cape

"Al, I don't want to wear it."

Ed eyed the ridiculous article of clothing that Alphonse was holding up. His little brother was giving him the kind of look that told him he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and all Ed could do was frown. This was not the kind of evening he'd had in mind when returning from his two week stay up north. While on the train back to Central, he'd hoped to come home to a warm apartment, a home-cooked meal (courtesy of Al), and possibly have some alone time to re-read one of his favorite alchemy books.

Instead, he got carry-out shoved in his face, along with the most loudly colored thing he'd ever laid eyes on. It was brighter than his red overcoat and he'd already been told plenty of times by military higher-ups that his favorite piece of clothing was pushing it. Ed might like to push boundaries a bit, but the last thing he wanted was another lecture from Mustang about dress codes.

"Please, Brother?" Large, honey-colored eyes pleaded. "I spent a lot of time making it."

Ed scoffed at that, kicking off his heavy leather boots by the door. He'd only been home for a total of twenty seconds before Al had been in his face with a devilishly sweet smile and a plate of re-heated leftovers. Al rarely had his childish days, but when he did Ed was usually quick to play along. This time, however, he put up some resistance.

"Why the hell would you make me a cape, though? Do I look like some sorta super hero?"

Al's smile morphed into a grin as he turned and went into the dining room, left hand grabbing a crumpled newspaper from the small dinner table. He held it up for Ed to take a look and when the state alchemist did, he began to laugh. Right on the front page was a picture of him a photographer must've taken up north, when he'd rescued two twins from their home that'd collapsed from heavy snow. He guessed the wind blowing his braid and his oddly heroic pose did make him look like some kind of hero...

"What? You want a cool picture of me like that one?" the oldest brother grinned

Al's only response was to toss the hand-made cape in Ed's direction.

The next day, Ed walked into the office of Mustang's command with the file on his mission up north tucked under his arm. He had a sandwich he'd snatched in a hurry from the mess hall in his automail hand, various sauces dripping to the old, carpeted floor. Havoc saluted him sloppily from his position behind a pile of papers, Fuery smiled at him from where he was watering the office's potted plant, and Hawkeye was giving him a reprimanding look, probably regarding the trail of sauce he was leaving on the floor.

"You're early today, sir," Breda commented as he exited Mustang's office. "Miss the colonel that much?"

Hawkeye cleared her throat suddenly, which caused both men to look in her direction. She blamed a cold she thought she was coming down with, but the noticable twinkle in her eye made Ed bristle.

"Har har, Ed liking Mustang is so funny, " Ed scowled and tossed the remainder of his sandwich in the nearest waste bin.

Hawkeye threw him a look.

"I don't find that to be humorous at all," she replied in her usual curt tone.

"I do," Breda laughed loudly and shoved Ed forward, making the blond stumble into the doorway of Mustang's office. "I guess the colonel called you a shrimp so often because he liked you! Kinda like a school kid, don't you think?"

Fuery spoke up next: "Try to keep your voice down; we don't want anyone outside of our command knowing about them."

Ed glared daggers at Breda while giving him the middle finger, then entered the huge room that belonged solely to the Flame Alchemist. It was the same as always, neat and pristine save for the mess of papers and manilla folders on Mustang's cherry oak desk. The man he'd come to see was slouched in his leather chair, chin supported by a strong palm and gloved fingers tapping his cheek as he concentrated on reading a report. Ed noticed the steaming cup of coffee set aside and knew right away Mustang hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep.

"What? Just going to pretend I'm not here?" he teased, kicking the door shut behind him.

Dark blue eyes darted up instantly, lips parting in slight surprise. Now that Ed looked closely, he could see the dark bags above high cheek bones and the stubble coming in along his jawline. Mustang looked like a mess, but in all honesty, his bad days were like most people' good days. He realized he was staring, so he dragged his eyes away from his superior officer and to the folder he pulled out from beneath his arm.

"I didn't blow anything up this time," Ed made his way across the room, tossing his report onto his commanding officer's desk. "I think I deserve some sorta raise for that. Those villagers had me about ready to set fire to the whole damn place," he crossed his arms, finally letting his gaze fall back onto Mustang. He resisted the urge to lean forward and punch the smirking colonel in his face. "What's that look for, bastard?"

Mustang chuckled and pushed aside the report he'd been reading, lacing his fingers together under his chin. His dark eyes, despite being dulled with exhaustion, danced with a sort of humor that had the blond alchemist wanting to back up out of the office and go back home. Something was up, he just didn't know what.

"You're early," the colonel stated, the left side of his mouth quirked up into a smile Ed knew was masking a giant grin. "Did you miss me that much, Edward?"

Ed felt heat rise to his cheeks instantly. No scowl or cocky attitude could hide the immense flush he knew was coloring his face, but he tried anyway. Sputtering, he replied back with a snap: "Who would miss a cocky prick like you?"

Mustang's smile didn't faulter the slightest.

"You know," the dark-haired man reached down and pulled open a drawer to his desk, his hand rooting around papers and work supplies, "I placed a call to Alphonse the other day."

Ed's shoulders tensed and golden eyes narrowed considerably. Yes, something was definitely up.

"You did, did you?"

"I did," Mustang restated, pulling a newspaper article out from the messy drawer and sitting it in front of him. From where Ed was standing, he could see it was the same one his brother had showed him last night. "Lieutenant Hawkeye brought this to my attention not long ago, while you were finishing up your stay up north. Quite a noble act, really. But what really caught my eye was the photograph."

Ed resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he realized where this was going.

"You're not going to tell me I look like a super hero, too, are you?"

"Is there something wrong with that? I think you look very dashing."

The heat hit him again, like a gale wind that wanted to knock him off of his feet. It was a natural reaction of his to act angry when he was embarrassed or flustered, but this time he bit back the string of foul words he wanted to toss Mustang's way. Not everything the bastard said was a jab at him, sometimes there were honest compliments and Ed needed to learn to tell the difference.

"Thanks," Ed grumbled. "So... you were saying you called my brother?"

"Yes," Mustang leaned back and dipped his fingers into the front chest pocket of his military jacket, grabbing a hold of a paper-thin square no larger than the palm of his hand. "The reason I called Alphonse was to place a special order regarding this newspaper article."

Instantly, Ed walked forward and slammed his hands down on the huge desk, scattering a few pieces of paper and knocking a couple of pens on the floor. "You."

Mustang's cocky smile was back as he turned the item for Ed to see. It was the picture Al had taken of him the previous night, after coaxing him to put on the cape and pose. It wasn't anything like the photo from the newspaper; but he looked just as heroic, albeit a little ridiculous. He'd stood in the entrance way to the apartment's balcony, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. His red coat had been left behind on the back of a kitchen chair, so all he wore were his leather pants, his black vest, and the bright orange cape that was barely fluttering in the evening breeze.

"Not just you, but Al too! Augh! I knew something was wrong when he told me he made it; he never wastes his time doing stuff like that! What the hell did you bribe him with?" Ed was practically steaming out of his ears at that point, fists clenched on the desk.

"Why would you think I bribed him?" Mustang feigned innocence.

"Equivalent exchange," the smaller alchemist growled. "Al wouldn't do something like that without something equal in return."

Mustang 'hmmed' before tucking the photo back in his breast pocket. Ed tried to swing forward and grab it, but he was a little too late.

"A kitten."

Ed straightened himself, eye brows knitting together in confusion and frustration.

"What?"

"I requested Alphonse to take a photo for me and in return, he asked if I could find a home for a stray kitten."

To anyone else, that would sound completely absurd, but Ed knew his brother well enough to know that was the truth. He was pretty sure Al would shave his head, join a traveling circus, or even give up all of his money if it meant finding a home for a stray animal. It used to be a lot funnier when he was a giant heap of metal, storing kittens inside of his armor to keep them out of the rain. Ed smacked his palm to his forehead with a groan.

"That's just like him. Selling out his own brother for a stupid cat. But you," Ed jabbed an automail finger in Mustang's direction, "why did you even want a picture like that?"

Mustang wasn't quick to reply. Instead, he seemed to be mulling over what to say and how to say it, and after a few moments of contemplation, he tossed his subordinate a small smile.

"You looked breath-taking in this photograph," he tapped a gloved finger on the newspaper article in front of him. "So I thought I'd like a photo of my own; one for my eyes only."

The reply was so honest and out of the ordinary that Ed fell short on something to say for once. How could he reply to that?What should he say? Swallowing back a small lump in his throat, Ed looked down at his scuffed boots, avoiding Mustang's eyes completely.

"Well... you got what you wanted. And I guess I..." he fumbled with his words, "I didn't mean what I said earlier. I guess I did miss you while I was gone. Just a bit." His cheeks were probably red, but there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Clearing his throat, he spared a glance in Mustang's direction. "But your little request had me spending all evening making stupid poses, when all I'd wanted to do when I got home was relax, eat a nice meal, and sleep. I didn't even get to eat the carry-out Al got. You owe me."

The colonel pushed his chair back and stood up, straightening out the collar of his military jacket. His smirk was different than usual, making the hairs on the back of Ed's neck stand upright. With a few long strides, he was already past Ed and nearing the closed office door, the written report on Ed's mission forgotten on his desk.

"Go home and rest, Edward," Mustang turned to look at him. "We can look over your report later tonight."

"Tonight?" Ed's brows shot up to his hairline.

"When I take you out to dinner," stormy blues eyes were dancing with mirth, "to make up for your lack of a decent meal. But I have a meeting with General Crowe to attend, so have Lieutenant Hawkeye give you your next mission assgnment and I'll be picking you up around seven."

Ed stood frozen. Dinner? They were going on a date?

"Oh, Edward, before I go," Mustang opened his door and the stream of sound coming from the command office broke Ed out of his trance.

"Er, yeah?" was the blond's intelligent reply.

"Can I request you wear that cape?"

Ed scowled.

FIN.