Fullmetal Alchemist 1. First Challenge Maes Hughes

_Challenge - Write Maes Hughes in some sort of comedy of errors. this was as close as i could get in a short piece. and the challenger admited it worked for him. -fireun _

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"….I thought you had her."

It was a phrase more terrifying than any mad alchemist, any malformed chimera that they could imagine. It threatened more pain, more death, and more terror…

And it had been such a simple thing. Maes had asked Roy to baby-sit. Roy had a date, and so had asked Jean to do it. Jean had run out of smokes and had told Cain to take care of her. Cain had let her tussle with the puppies he had found that morning until they were all tired out, and had then asked Farman to watch them while he want to the store to get more dog food.

And that's where it got hazy…

Farman swore Breda was the last person to take care of her. Breda swore Farman had been the one looking after her. Roy, coming back from his date was horrified to learn that little Elysia was nowhere to be found. And Maes was due back in less than an hour.

And if he was anything, Maes Hughes was prompt when it came time to get back to his family. "You passed her off to someone else, Jean! Is that anyway to handle an order from a superior officer?"

"To be fair, sir, you did the same thing yourself." Jean chewed frantically on a cigarette, trying to ignore the fact his brain was showing him different ways he would be stabbed to death when Hughes returned. "Cain, where the hell _is_ she?"

Cain was wishing he was shorter than normal, so as to better melt into the background. "I thought Farman could handle it. He did a good job with Barry the Chopper that once…"

"Farman could handle what?" broke in Maes' jovial voice. They all turned in a sort of terror to meet the smiling, scruffy face of the man they were dreading. "You all look like hell. What happened?" The smile shifted swiftly into something quieter and darker. "Where is Elysia? Is she alright?"

"About that, Maes…" Roy started clearing his throat. "Jean, don't you have something to say in regards to this matter?"

Maes' right arm twitched a bit, the aborted form of a motion that usually ended in a knife, and his eyes glittered behind his glasses. "Where is my daughter?"

The phone chose a most opportune time to ring, breaking through the tension. Roy leapt to answer, face breaking into a beaming, serene smile a moment later. "Understood. I will send him directly." Roy looked up at Maes. 'That was your wife. Elysia wants to know why daddy is so late getting home."

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief as Maes sped out of the office, intent on getting to his precious baby girl.

"Well, we got out of that rather easily." Roy yawned.


	2. Second Challenge Maes and Roy

_challenge from **Animegoil **this time. "how about... a Roy/Maes, in which Maes is the one getting the support from Roy, instead of the way it usually is, with Roy needing Maes. Preferrably angsty." there we have it folks. on with the writing! -fireun_

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It was the smile, initially, that drew him in. Roy had seen a flash of it as the older youth had looked up at him from where he sprawled on the ground, not even trying to make it look like he was there of his own volition. There was a smudge of dirt across his left cheek, his uniform was scuffed, and he smiled.

And Roy winced. There was something about those pale eyes all but hidden behind rectangular glasses that bit at the soul. Roy cast a distasteful glare at the backs of the departing pack of soldiers and offered the young man on the ground a hand.

Who blinked once, readjusted his glasses and grimaced. "New recruit?" He chuckled, pushing himself up a bit. "You should rethink your options, ya know. As you can see I am a bit of a social pariah."

Roy shrugged, his hand, and its offer, remaining solidly in place. The other youth looked at him for a moment longer, eyes shrewdly taking in every nuance of the situation, and then reached out and grasped the offering, allowing Roy to help haul him to his feet.

"I'm Maes. Maes Hughes." He smiled again. "You must be Mustang."

"Roy." Roy offered, returning the smile, uncomfortably aware of the intelligence gleaming in those eyes. He had the feeling that this Hughes had not only considered every possible implication of this new alliance, but had already begun on social campaign plans. It was a tad overwhelming.

"Well, I am already late enough to merit a fantastic sort of punishment this time, so I had better get going."

"Huh." Roy watched the retreating broad shouldered Maes Hughes, and tried to figure out why it felt like he had just been run through a mental wringer…

It became apparent over the next few days, that Maes was just a bit too smart, too interested for his own good. He grasped complex situations with ease, analyzed the problems their superior officers presented them with in a third of the time it took his class mates. Which, in the way of men since the dawn of time, earned him their ire. He took it all with a smile.

Which Roy found more than a little irritating.

"Why the hell don't you fight back?" He asked once, sitting with Maes and enjoying some prohibited brandy the other man had somehow managed to procure.

In response Maes poked at the watch that dangled at Roy's side. "See how many of the buggers have those little toys? They would have a blast with me, given half a chance. And I think I might mean that literally."

Roy watched Maes down another glass of the cheap brandy, that damned crooked smile still on his face, and made a decision. He felt his own lips curl into a predatory sort of grin and leaned back against the building they were skulking beside with a sigh.

Tomorrow should prove to be interesting.

Maes jumped out of bed, trying to figure out why someone was pounding at the dorm room door, howling his name desperately. And why there was a smoky sort of scent in the air.

Dressed only in the pants he had pulled on on his way across the room Maes opened the door. And gawked in utter surprise. His chief tormenter bowed a desperately deep bow and sobbed, apologizing in sentences so desperately garbled with panic that Maes didn't know how the merry hell to respond. Then he took in the fact that the soldiers clothes were looking a bit…charred, and that he had considerably less hair than yesterday, as well as what looked to be a surprising bit of sunburn for this time of year, and Maes broke into wild laughter.

"I accept, I accept, now haul outta here!" he shooed the overcooked soldier away, collapsing against his doorframe in a sort of relieved hysteria.

Roy smiled in grim satisfaction as he watched the still smoldering man scramble away from the dorms. He did not make friends lightly, and damn if he was going to let a bunch of testosterone-laden asses torment someone whose company he had grown to thoroughly enjoy.

Maes' smile, the rest of that day, beamed in open amusement at the sulky plight of his classmates. And when Maes met up with Roy later, the humor and pure joy Roy saw there in that manic grin made an answering smile pull to life on his own face.

"Stop that you ass, it's contagious."

"Don't want to ruin your mysteriously sullen image?" Maes chortled, deftly dodging a half-hearted punch.

"Maybe I should have just set you on fire." Roy grumbled.

"Oh? Then who would get the booze?" Maes offered a flask with a flourish.

"Maes, do me a favor."

"Hm?"

"Never tell me how you get this stuff. I don't want to have to feel bad about it."

"No problem, boss."

"And never call me that again."

Maes saluted jauntily. "Yessir."

"You are such an ass…"

"So I have been told." Maes took a long draw from the flask and passed it with a soft smile. "So I have been told."

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_**Honeywell **- i was told Hughes was not allowed to stab anyone in the last challenge...i am planning to do at least one where he goes on a knifey sort of rampage. at some point...it should be fun._

_**Nemu** - gracia is a saint. she really is. saved them all from most certain stabbity death..._

_**Dustwind** - i will see what i can do with that one. it has been years since i watched whose line...let me see what i can cook up..._

_**wolfenzippo** - i have to do something with poor farman and breda...no one pays any attention to the poor guys..._

_**kori hime** - ...i hope elysia manages to keep her mouth shut...the results really could be rather tragic..._


	3. Third Challenge Roy and Riza

_the challenge - "it needs to involve Roy and Riza and somehow Roy has to be in womens clothes." the part of Riza was written by a friend in this one, the esteemed D. Schwartz, who is actually responsible for starting this whole set with a list of challenges... -fireun_

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"This _isn't_ funny, lieutenant." Roy snarked, trying to fold his legs in such a way as to not flash his subordinate.

"I'd disagree, sir. I'd say that it's very, very funny." Lt. Hawkeye suppressed the urge to titter. "Hilarious, even."

"He requested a rematch. A _rematch_, lieutenant. One would have assumed he meant a fight." A bit of a breeze wandered up the rather short material that had at a point about twenty minutes previous been his best pair of uniform slacks.

"Young Elric is notorious for being mighty and terrible in his vengeance, sir." Hawkeye was doing a very admirable job at being deadpan.

"I heard there was another fight, sir, are you alr..." Fury poked his head in the office, squeaked in surprise as he caught sight of Roy's altered wardrobe, and fled.

"…a skirt!"

Roy ground his teeth as he heard Havoc launch into a fit of laughter. "Riza, would you please see about getting me a pair of pants?"

The phone chose that moment to ring. Roy snatched it up with a snarl. "Mustang."

"Hullo old man!" Hughes' voice crooned through the receiver. "I hear you have had a bit of a rough day."

"Don't you have some sort of actual work to do, Major?" Roy hissed.

"Nothing more important than the concern I hold for my closest of friends."

Hawkeye, finally beyond any feeling of decorum, collapsed in a fit of laughter and tears.


	4. Fourth Challenge Armstrong

_the challenge- "Armstrong and a case of mistaken identity. the Elrics enlistedfor help." -fireun_

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"You're kidding, right?"

Hughes closed the folder, thumbing the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to stave off the stress headache he could feel planning an attack. "I have no idea how and why, but it does appear that our Armstrong has been implicated in an attack that occurred last night. Witnesses describe him perfectly, from the ridiculous sprig of a blond curl to the rather unique stature and musculature."

"But…Armstrong?" The disbelief in Ed's voice was reflected in his face as he stared at Hughes.

"I know…I know…" Hughes glowered down at the closed report. "I don't believe it either, but I need some sort of evidence to turn this over. Unfortunately our words are not exactly strong enough to clear him."

"There has to be something…" Ed muttered, slumping into the chair in front of Hughes' desk. Armstrong was such a freak of nature. It was nigh unthinkable that anyone could be mistaken for him. His stature, build, those damn sparkles….

He snapped to attention, excited. "Hughes, is there any mention in that report of pink sparkles?"

Hughes eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he threw the folder open and began to read. A triumphant sort of grin broke across his features as he leaned back a few moments later. "Well, it appears no mention of sparkles was made, Edward."

"Armstrong without sparkles is not Armstrong." Ed nodded to himself, satisfied.

"That is definitely true." Hughes reached for the phone. "I am going to make some calls. Why don't you go give the Major the good news."

In the middle of nodding in a pleased fashion Ed paused as Hughes' suggestion sank in. "Why me!"

A beatific smile shone from Hughes' face. "Why, you figured out how to clear his name after all. It is only fair you have the honor of letting him know."

Ed had a sinking feeling that he had just been set up…He shot a withering glare at Hughes and stalked out of the office. Maybe he could just sort of shout at Armstrong and get a good running start before the Major would try and snag him in some sort of thankful, celebratory hug…


	5. Fifth Challenge Fury and Roy SPOILERS FO...

_**SPOILER WARNING FOR EPISODE 25.**_

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_my dear snicks challenged me to write a drabble in which Hughes was busy haunting a particular phone booth. and it had to be full of crack. so here we go. -fireun_

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Cain Fury didn't like to admit it, but he was stumped. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the wiring, with the case of the phone itself…He sat back on his heels with a sigh, halfheartedly picking up the receiver and listening for static, something he could actually fix.

"It's not broken." Hughes informed him helpfully.

Fury blinked once or twice, then carefully hung up the phone.

He packed up his tools in a firm sort of silence and exited the phone booth, pausing a moment to look at Mustang where he waited off to the side a bit. "Haunted, sir." Fury affirmed, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. It was either that or become reduced to the babbling shrieking mass that Breda had ended up as after using the phone last night.

Mustang nodded, dismissing the communications officer, and stole a glance at the phone booth. He could swear he saw Hughes perched comfortably atop the phone itself, legs swinging in a rather jaunty fashion.

Which was rather inconvenient, considering Hughes had been dead for quite some time at that point.

Roy decided that ghosts didn't exist. He ignored the pleasant wave the Hughes-that-didn't-exist made in his direction, and walked off to find Fury. Maybe the officer would want to go get a drink with him. They both could use the excuse- if they were drunk it would make sense that they were seeing ghosts.


	6. Sixth Challenge Riza

_The Challenge- "What kind of underwear doesriza hawkeye wear…?" i am going to get shot for this one. a lot. -fireun_

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"HAAAAAAAYAAAAAATE!"

It was shriek of purely feminine rage, and that was something so utterly unexpected, so out of the norm, that people passing on the streets froze. A small black and white dog bounded out a doggy door, ears flapping merrily in the wind, alongside what looked to be a dainty pair of women's underwear.

Hot on the miscreant hound's heels came a lean whirlwind of blond fury. She might have been clad only in a fluffy bathrobe, but that did nothing to lessen the effect her pistols had on onlookers, who did everything in their power to get the hell out of her way.

"HAYATE! HEEL!"

Black Hayate did seem to be at all inclined to stop. He galloped down the street and into the only other building he was familiar with. Once inside, after an almost tragic collision with a soldier on the stairs, Hayate made a beeline for the usual room.

Roy Mustang looked down in bemused surprise as Black Hayate hurled himself into the office, something lacey and lavender in color wrapped over his muzzle and clenched in his teeth. He reached down, patted the dog on the head, and went to remove what Hayate had in his mouth…

"Sir." Riza snapped, slapping his hand away.

"Was that necessary, Lieutenant!" Roy hissed. She had slapped rather hard…He looked up…and blinked. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was standing in his office, hair down and windblown; clad in nothing more than a bathrobe… "Lieutenant?"

"Don't stare." Riza snarled, pulling her…well damn. Those were her underwear Hayate had been jaunting about with. Roy felt a laugh coming on, and tried desperately to look the other way. It wouldn't be good at all to get her angry with him, not when she had a pistol in hand and a furious look on her face. He must have let some amusement slip through, as he heard her snarl something incoherent as she straightened, giving him a brief, glorious look at her cleavage before the bathrobe resettled into a more decent configuration.

"Take as much time as you need to get in this morning, Lieutenant." Roy attempted a conciliatory tone of voice, wanting desperately to diffuse her mood.

"I will be back in fifteen minutes, sir." Riza snapped, saluting and turning smartly before stalking out. "Hayate. Come." The dog huffed a whimper and slunk out after his owner.

As soon as Riza was safely out of earshot Roy collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter. It was just too perfect; the impervious Riza Hawkeye had lacey, pastel underwear.


	7. Seventh Challenge Ed

_The Challenge- "Ed makes a tearful confession while drunk. Not funny. Angsty." oh, and i added in some fluff. and some hoho papa, since we all know i have that bizzare obsession with papa!hohenheim. -fireun_

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"Drink."

"I've had enuff, sanks."

"Water, Edward. You need to drink some water."

"Na thirs'y." Ed whined, and Hohenheim winced. The young man was well and truly soused if he was whining. Ed looked up at his father, gold eyes wide and watery. "Ol' man, you aren't goin, are ya?"

Hohenheim settled on the bed beside his son, slightly unsure as to how to proceed. It was a bit outside his experience, this vulnerability on Ed's part. "I'm not going anywhere. Now, will you please drink some of this water?" He offered the small glass once more.

"You wen' away…" Ed's lower lip quivered, the universal prequel to a fit of bawling. "you wen' awa' an lef' us…"

Hohenheim acted on instinct, reaching out to haul Ed into an embrace, only to be slapped at clumsily. Ed glared at him from behind a growing flood of tears. "You bas'ard."

Hohenheim sighed, and set the glass of water on the night stand. He was looking away from his son at that point, which is most likely why when Ed threw himself at his father in an uncoordinated attempt at a desperate embrace Hohenheim was caught completely by surprise.

Ed pressed his face against his father's chest, for once not repulsed by the cloying scent that hovered around the man. He sobbed, not flinching or drawing away when the man tentatively wrapped an arm around in a comforting embrace. Hohenheim rested his chin against his sons head, sighing softly. He was so wrapped up in the feel of his son huddling against him for reassurance, something so alien, that he almost missed the words Ed muttered against his chest.

"…love you."

Hohenheim exhaled a long shaky breath in reaction, but made no other indication that he had heard.

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_glad people are liking these! i am working on all the challenges i have been getting through reviews. will post as i get them done! keep challenging! -fireun_


	8. Eighth Challenge Roy

_todays challenge - "Roy is dog sitting hayate. Kitty litter. Fruit juice. Apartment has to burst into flames."_

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Roy had to admit that, perhaps, he had overextended himself.

"Elysia! Don't climb up on the table please!" He reached out to pull the toddler off of what had been his mother's favorite coffee table, wincing as her shoes scratched across the finish. A bark and a thud heralded continuing chaos the next room over. "Hayate! Come!"

Yeah, he had overextended himself. Overscheduled himself. He should have been able to handle the dog and the girl. Hell, he could command military units. This shouldn't be so damn complicated…

He needed a drink.

Settling Elysia back onto the couch, he reached for his mug. Coffee was the strongest thing he could imbibe, as per Maes' orders, when in the presence of the man's beloved daughter. He looked away from the child for what, one minute at most, but that was apparently enough. There was a light thud, a splash, and a burst of anxious crying.

Roy took another gulp of coffee, looked at Elysia, and decided he wanted to join her in her vocal expression of displeasure. She had spilled her juice across the table and down onto the rug that was a hedonistic sort of soft on the feet. Red fruit juice spread an interesting blot pattern, adding new angles and shapes as it dripped forlornly off the furniture.

"Well, at least it isn't blood for once." Roy groaned, righting the cup and pulling the wailing toddler into his lap. "It's ok, Elysia. I'm not going to yell at you."

Black Hayate ambled out of the kitchen at that point, something suspiciously gritty looking all over his coat. Roy stared for a moment, and then it clicked. The cat litter Al had asked him to hold onto…Roy stood, arms full of Elysia, and made his way slowly into the kitchen.

Kitty litter everywhere. Apparently Hayate had been amusing himself for the last few moments by playing in it, digging and tracking it over every dog-accessible surface in the small kitchen.

Roy felt a tick in his left eye, never a good sign.

"Elysia, why don't you go play with Hayate in the yard." He muttered, setting the girl down and opening the apartment door. Squealing in delight she scurried outside, the dog close behind.

A moment later Elysia ground to a halt, eyes wide. There had been a scream of abject frustration, a boom, and then the sound of a window being hauled open. She looked up, blinking, to watch Roy stick his head out of the window in a cloud of smoke, coughing.

"Elysia, soon as I toss some water over the kitchen, I am taking you back to daddy."

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_hopefully things will settle down this week and i can get back to responding to everyone! just have no time right now...gomen! -fireun_


	9. Nineth Challenge Philosophy

_challenge - philosophical maes and roy. given that i have a degree in philosophy, this was just plain fun. -fireun_

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"Hey, Roy, you believe in fate?"

"No. You?"

"Naw." Maes took a heroic swig of the cheap alcohol with hardly a wince, and passed it back to his sprawled companion. "No fate. Everything that happens is our own damn doing. Freedom of action and all that."

"Our own fault then?" Roy accepted the flask, glared balefully at it, and took a slightly more conservative taste.

"See, that's your problem, pal." Maes rolled over onto his stomach and jabbed a finger in Roy's direction. "You, sir, are a pessimist!"

"I prefer realist." Roy responded, miffed.

"Bah. Whatever. It's all the same dysfunction." Maes huffed, plopping his head down onto his arms in disgust.

Roy looked over at his friend, sprawled in the grass, uniform jacket in an irreverent pile off to the side. "Maes?"

"Yah?" Maes muttered into his arms.

"So you don't believe in fate, right?"

"Right. We just went over that."

Roy grinned, and upended the flask over Maes' head. As Maes surged to his feet, sputtering with all the rage of a wet cat, Roy couldn't help but break into the enthusiastic laughter of the truly inebriated.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!" Maes roared, eyes burning where some alcohol had dripped in.

"I was merely expressing my freedom." Roy grinned.

Maes stared at him for one long, disbelieving moment, before breaking into booming laughter. "You bastard." He whooped, taking in the cat-in-cream grin on Roy's face. "You smug bastard."


	10. Tenth Challenge Mei

_the challenge- Ed x Mei, chopsticks, ribbon, water_

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"…No. Not like that at all!"

Ed was not generally known as a patient person. Nor a humble one. So really, no one should have been surprised when he got a bit irate at being thwarted by two slender pieces of wood.

Mei stared as the blond man snarled, tossing the chopsticks away with what appeared to be a fascinating amount of sullen anger. He really was so different than she had imagined. It never ceased to amaze… Then a smile broke across her face. "Do you give up?"

Ed twitched, eyeing the long pink ribbon sitting innocently in the center of the table. "No."

"You are a genius alchemist! Using chopsticks should be easy!"

His pride being assaulted, Ed deigned to retrieve the chopsticks. After a few more moments of awkward fumbling his tenuous hold on his temper snapped and he resorted to stabbing at the bits of food on his plate.

"We win, little Mei!" she crowed, hugging the little panda.

Al blinked as Ed stomped past; braid wet and looking newly redone…with a cute pink bow at the bottom. "Brother…?" Ed's response was a bout of inarticulate muttering as he hurried away.

Al's confusion was cleared as Mei trotted past, intent on following his brother, a huge smile on her face, chatting with little Mei. "Mister Elric really is a gentleman, genius alchemist. And he is wearing my ribbon! Oh, little Mei, do you think that means he will marry me? And teach me alchemy?"

As he watched the two of them wander off, Al was suddenly very, _very _happy Ed was the one who seemed to attract all the obsessive attention…


	11. Eleventh Challenge Roy and Havoc

_The Challenge- Pairing- Havoc/Roy, needs to include pizza, a spoon, and take place midafternoon_

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"Hot, hot, hot, hotototototot!" Havoc juggled his unwieldy burden, trying to find a happy medium between stable and not scorching. Hobbling through the office, cig clutched between his teeth in a manic grin, Havoc made his way to Mustangs closed door.

"Yo! Mustang! Food!" when there was no answer, he poked the door open with a shoulder and peered in.

And immediately wished he hadn't. It was too late for retreat; as Hawkeye glared at him from her position directly behind Mustangs chair, gun held in a way that clearly stated she meant business.

"Yes, Havoc?" She inquired, one eloquent eyebrow rising.

"Erm, brought Mustang some lunch…"

Mustang sensed an opening, a chance at escape. He scrawled his signature across the bottom of the last three pages, trusting that if he had just endorsed anything horrifically inappropriate Hawkeye would take care of it, and turned a beaming smile Havoc's way. "What a pleasant surprise, Second Lieutenant!"

Hawkeye was an excellent soldier, and excellent soldiers possess a unique survival trait- they know when they are outgunned. With a muttered comment about "useless men", and something about Havoc being "just as bad as Maes, she holstered her pistol and beat a strategic retreat, closing the door behind her.

After an eloquent shrug at Mustang, Havoc unveiled his prize with a grin, placing the now open box onto Mustangs's desk with a flourish and little regard for the papers underneath. Instantly the smell of melted cheese, spicy sauce, and garlic filled the air, drawing a rumble of appreciation from Mustang's overworked and underfed stomach.

Mustang dug in with obvious relish, snagging a piece of pizza with an almost feral smile and tearing into it. A look of sublime happiness spread across his usually stern features as he chewed, delighting in the mix of flavors.

"Hey, ya dripped a little sauce…" Havoc muttered, leaning in close.

Mustang jumped back with a muffled shout as Havoc licked, almost delicately, along his throat. "What the hell!"

"You had some sauce on you." Havoc explained, smug. "Thought I would help ya out." He dodged a thrown spoon a second later, laughing.

"I am going to ki…umph!"

Mustang's tirade was cut short as Havoc decided to help him get some sauce off of his lips, and tongue…


End file.

Fullmetal Alchemist