Chapter Text
If you were to ask Colonel Roy Mustang what the conference in West City was for, he’d puff up his chest with pride and say in a loud, clear, confident voice, “It’s a conference to facilitate communication and collaboration between the various members of the military. It’s a conference to expose us to new and innovative ideas so that we may be better leaders and soldiers.”
If you were to get him drunk and ask him the same question, he’d thump his head on the table and groan, “Fuck if I know, man. This whole thing is useless.”
Yes, it was that time of the year. The time of the year that every soldier dreaded. The Annual Military Conference. It had an official name. No one bothered to learn it. It was always just ‘The Military Conference’ if you were in the presence of generals and people in charge of your next promotion. If you were with people you trusted, the name changed to ‘the most boring and useless week of the entire year’. Or sometimes even ‘that fucking thing I can never get out of no matter how many of my grandparents die’.
This year, the week-long conference was being held in West City. Mustang had hoped that because General Hakkert was the one in charge of organizing the event it’d be held in Central, giving him a chance to visit his aunt and dump Ed off on Gracia. But nope! For some reason, the even had to be held in West City. Because they rotated it! Every year it was at a different military post and wouldn’t you know it? This year it was at the opposite fucking end of the country. In a city he had no connections to and little to no contacts.
To make matter worse, his entire team was required to attend. Everyone. From Master Sargent Fuery to Second Lieutenant Breda. Because of course, they were. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. But when Mustang said ‘everyone’, he meant everyone. And no civilians were allowed. So on top of brown-nosing a bunch of generals he didn’t like, he also had to keep an eye on Fullmetal. And let me tell you, Major Edward ‘Fullmetal’ Elric was not happy to have a week-long paid vacation.
No one was really happy about it. But where they were adults who knew how to suck it up for a week and put on a happy face, Fullmetal was a child. A temperamental child who did not deal well with being separated from his brother, being unable to search for the philosopher’s stone, wearing a uniform, and being poked and prodded by people who wanted to see this ‘genius alchemist Mustang plucked up from the middle of nowhere’. The kid tried to sneak away to the West City library a few times. Mustang was more than willing to let him since it meant he could spend more time at the bar.
Sadly, the kid was never able to make his escape and constantly was dragged into new conversations. Mustang would have to teach him how to sneak around one of these days. If the kid didn’t learn the art of subtly leaving, it was going to put him in real trouble one of these days.
Of course, the fact that Fullmetal was unable to actually leave the event and see what books the West City Library had only made him more pissy and argumentative. The only bright side was that he seemed to only be that way towards Mustang. As much as he hated dealing with Ed’s temperamental moods, he was glad they were directed solely at him. The last thing he needed was to write an apology letter to General Hakkert because one too many soldiers touched his automail without his permission and ended up through a wall. Mustang wouldn’t have blamed the kid, but still. There was a time and a place to kick people’s asses. Thankfully, Ed seemed to understand this and grit his teeth whenever someone new came up to him and started messing with his arm (a few of them even started messing with the wrong arm).
Not so thankfully, this only further fueled Fullmetal’s attempts to bug Mustang into his own mental breakdown. Not that he mined. At this point, he had plenty of experience dealing with Ed’s more sour moods. At this point, he’d be more worried if the kid wasn’t trying to piss him off one way or another.
That didn’t mean he had to like it. So, despite the week's respite from paperwork, he couldn’t wait for the week to be over. Besides, paperwork was replaced with brownnosing and hob-knobbing and ass-kissing. He was good at those things, but he loathed them with every fiber of his being. There were only so many times he could laugh politely at yet another joke Colonel Balton made about his wife before he snapped, grabbed the man by his shoulders, and shouted in his face ‘If you hate her so much then why did you marry her? I’m sure she would welcome a divorce from your sorry ass!’.
He didn’t do that. Instead, he gritted his teeth, downed yet another flute of champagne, and laughed along with everyone else.
He knew the rest of his men were feeling the same way. Other than a few panels on radio equipment for Fuery and a couple of expos highlighting new military weapons for Hawkeye and Havoc, there wasn’t much for any of them to do. He thought Breda was going to mutiny after yet another disappointing breakfast buffet with rubbery eggs and burned toast.
”Seriously, how hard is it to fuck up toast!”
“Breda, please, we’re almost done.” Mustang hissed.
“No, no. I put up with Lieutenant Meyer talking about Hawkeye’s ass for two hours. I put up with Colonel Bradford pinching Ed’s real arm and saying ‘it’s so lifelike’. But a full week with some of the worst food I’ve ever tasted? I’m sorry, sir, but I’m starting the coup here and now.”
Fuery sighed. “You have got to sort out your priorities.”
Falman poked at something that was probably supposed to be yogurt but smelled so sour it was likely unsafe to eat. “No, I think I agree with him. Mutiny now. First order of business when the Colonel is in charge, better food.”
Mustang thumped his head on the table. Why were his men such idiots?
By the end of it, they were all ready to go home and get back to normal. In Mustang’s case, he really wanted to get blackout drunk and pass out in his own bed.
“I still can’t believe you made me come,” Ed said scuffing his shoes as they waited in the hotel lobby for the rest of the team to arrive.
They were free! They were finally free! Well, almost. Hughes was lucky enough to skip out the last day and head back to Central (That selfish bastard couldn’t even come up with a reason for Mustang to have to be there). He was going to be calling him tonight so they could gossip about everything. Yes, he hated gossiping when it came to other higher-ups, but Hughes was different. Maybe he’d convince Hawkeye to join them so she could share her insights. Or at least rail on Lieutenant Meyer for several hours, absolutely wrecking him for daring to talk to her.
He gritted his teeth and forced his voice to remain low and calm. “For the last time, Fullmetal, it was out of my hands.”
“Why did I even have to wear this stupid uniform? I never have to wear a uniform!” He tugged at the collar of his jacket. “It’s hot and itchy. And it rides up. You wear this thing every day?”
Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, he was needling him. He was pushing his buttons and if he pushed them too much, Mustang’s quickly fraying rope of control would snap. He used up most of his self-control this week. He was very close to snapping and doing something he would regret.
Question: Would Hawkeye kill him if he threw Edward Elric into the fancy fountain in the lobby?
Answer: Probably.
“For the last time, Fullmetal, quit complaining. It’s only been a week and we’re almost done. You can change on the train.”
“Why can’t I change now? The conference is over, right?”
Question: Was it worth being killed by Hawkeye so he could throw Edward Elric into the fancy fountain in the lobby?
Answer: Highly likely.
“Because there are still higher ups here and we need to make a good impression on them.”
Ed scoffed and muttered under his breath. “More like you need to make a good impression on them. I don’t care what they think of me.”
His smile was so tight over his lips that he thought his teeth might break through the skin. “Fullmetal, for the love of God, if you don’t stop complaining right now, I will give you ever mine inspection in this country. And, I will send Hawkeye with you to chaperone and make sure we don’t have a repeat of Youswell.”
Ed glared at him but made no move to continue the argument. The brat didn’t say anything. He simply kicked Mustang’s briefcase over. Mustang picked it up. The kid kicked it over again. Please, could everyone else get here now? What was taking them so long?
“Hey boss, chief,” Havoc said, waving to them as he, Fuery, Breda, and Falman made their way down the stairs. He chuckled upon seeing Mustang’s face. “Sir, it’s not worth getting shot by Hawkeye to get some momentary revenge on the chief.”
Mustang felt his eye twitch. “Really? Because you haven’t had to listen to him complain this entire week.”
“No,” Falman sighed, “we have.”
“Yeah, who do you think he was complaining to when you weren’t around,” Breda added.
At this, the tips of Ed’s ears turned pink. He crossed his arms and looked away. “I didn’t know you guys hated it that much.”
Good. He was at least feeling a little ashamed of his behavior recently.
Havoc took charge and wrapped an arm around Ed’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy, one day you’ll learn how to do all of this on the inside. Like the boss!”
Ed turned to Mustang, his face paling. “I do not want to turn into him.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “Turning into me would be an honor. I’m the gold standard you should aim for.”
Fuery yawned. “Really? You think you’re gold? I was thinking more bronze.”
“Or pewter,” Breda mumbled.
Mustang’s eye twitched some more. “One more word out of anyone and you are all going on a country-wide tour of every mine Amestris has to offer.”
“It’ll probably be more fun than this,” Falman sighed.
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to see the chief con his way into owning a mine.” Havoc grinned at Ed, who grinned back.
“Don’t encourage him,” Mustang growled.
He looked at his watch once more. Damn, where was Hawkeye? They were going to miss their train if she took much longer. “Did any of you see Hawkeye? We need to leave soon.”
“Hmm?” Havoc looked behind him. “She got caught up with Lieutenant Meyer and has been trying to escape for the last hour now. I think he’s into her.”
Breda whacked him upside the head. “He talked about her ass for two hours on Wednesday. He’s into her.”
“Or he’s an ass man.”
Ed made a face. “A what man?”
Havoc choked on his words and started sputtering out excuses. Mustang shot him a glare. Seriously, could none of these people remember that there was a child in their midst? He’d rather Edward not learn about bodily preferences through Lieutenant Meyer’s pathetic attempts to flirt with Hawkeye.
Mustang rolled his eyes. He should have known. “Can someone go rescue her, then? We need to leave. If only so that Fullmetal can change and quit complaining.”
Breda set down his bag. “Yeah, I’ll go find her.”
As Breda set off through the sea of blue uniforms to try and pry Hawkeye away from Meyer, Mustang kept looking at his watch. The seconds were ticking down. They might have to make a run for it. He was not missing this train. He was not spending another second at this god-forsaken conference!
“Relax, boss,” Havoc said. “If we miss the train, we miss the train. It’s not like there’s only one train back East.”
“Yes, but this train ride is going to take the entire day and I’d rather be back in East City sooner rather than later.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree,” Ed said. “I want to see Al again.”
“Is he meeting up with you tonight?” Fuery asked.
“That’s the plan. He’s back home visiting with granny and Winry at the moment. I can’t wait to see him though. Still don’t get why he couldn’t come here,” he trailed off, going back to scuffing his boots on the ground.
As much as Mustang wanted to snap at the boy, it was clear he was at least trying not to be a pain. And he imagined that Ed was having a legitimately difficult time with all of this. Mustang was older than him. His brain was fully developed. He had experience with this kind of thing in the past. He knew how to compartmentalize his negative emotions and put on a happy face. Ed was a child and came with all the hallmarks of being a child, including an inability to fully control and hide his emotions. He should be thankful Ed wasn’t lashing out at everyone. Still, he was annoyed by the near-constant barrage of complaints.
“You’ll see him tonight. Quit complaining about it,” he snapped. What was it about Ed that brought out the worst in him? He never felt like he was in full control when the kid was in the room with him. It was like the kid knew how to exploit every weak point he had for his benefit. Or not, depending on the situation.
He flicked open his watch again. They could still make the train, but they’d have to run.
“Guys, I got her, let’s go!” Breda called from across the crowded lobby.
“Finally,” he muttered. He picked up his briefcase, grabbed Ed by the elbow, and commenced a ‘sprint that was trying to not look like a sprint so that he didn’t draw attention to himself or his team’s sprint.
Of course, in his hast of making sure he had a firm grip on Ed so the kid wouldn’t get swallowed up in the crowd and his single-minded drive to reach the door, he wasn’t looking where he was going and ran into someone. His briefcase skittered across the floor. Ed was yanked to the side and practically flung into Havoc. Thankfully, he caught him and kept him upright before the very heavy automail could crack the very expensive floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see where I was going.” Hakkert said, putting a hand to his head and shaking off his surprise.
Mustang scrambled to grab the briefcase. “No, no, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.” Please don’t make small talk. Please don’t make small talk. Please don’t make small talk.
Hakkert laughed. “You look like you’re in a hurry, so I won’t argue with you. I’ll let you go then, Colonel Mustang.”
Oh, thank god! Finally, someone who was reasonable! “Thank you, sir. And thank you for putting on this conference. It was wonderful to meet with fellow soldiers from around Amestris.”
“Of course. Now, I would hurry if I were you. You have a train to catch!”
“Right. Thank you again.” He nodded his thanks and rushed out the door, his team following after them.
They did make their train (barely). They arrived sweaty, panting, and out of breath. Even Ed didn’t immediately get up and get changed, instead electing to collapse on the seat and catch his breath.
“Alright, team, next time, we’re sneaking out of the window,” he said.
“Agreed.”
And with that, he settled in for a long train ride back to East City. Hey, at least Ed would have one less thing to complain about.