Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its affiliations. Fullmetal Alchemist and all its associations (including, but not limited to: its characters, objects, places, and events) are owned by Hiromu Arakawa.

Author's Note: First and foremost, I do not support RoyEd/EdRoy. I do, however, support the father-son relationship between the Elrics and Mustang. This small story reflects this view. Please comment and enjoy!

It was never something Edward meant to say—it just slipped. There were a lot of things he called the raven-haired man (jerk, bastard, evil colonel with a god complex), but never that. Never did he for one second believe that one word would pass from his lips and into the man's ears.

Sure, he respected the man—he had to. His rank as a State Alchemist was only equal to Major. So, of course, he needed to show at least some respect no matter how much he despised the man behind the steely black eyes. And it wasn't even hatred—more like an utter annoyance that steamed every time the Colonel gave that all-too familiar, all-knowing smirk. That's what he despised: that grin, that smile, that smirk. It represented everything he hated, everything he strove to beat. And every time he came to headquarters, having filed a useless report, that smirk was there to greet him. There were times the blond dreamed of knocking out every one of the Colonel's teeth. His automail arm shook at every impulse to satisfy the momentary whim.

It was that smile he hated, not the man necessarily. No—yes; he hated the man. Hated him to the core because he always seemed to be one step ahead. It always seemed every time Edward and his younger (yet irritatingly taller) brother gained, the Colonel was there, wearing that smile, and telling them how they had failed.

Take for instance the city of Lior. Though the two brothers had risked their lives to free the people from a corrupt dictator, Prophet—or rather ex-Prophet—Cornello, the Colonel had nonchalantly scanned over the report and went off to other topics, other failures and mistakes.

That was one more reason for Edward to hate Colonel Roy Mustang. There were other reasons: basic chemistry for instance. The Colonel was the Flame, he the Fullmetal. Combine the two and you have melted metal. Yet despite this proof—this overall proof that they could never get along—Edward found himself uttering the unthinkable, the impossible, the most embarrassing mistake known to man-kind.

Being short was damaging enough to his reputation. He did not need this on his record, did not need the teases and jokes. People outside of the military respected him, at least to a certain extent, him being a "dog" of the military after all. And, yes, there were some who honored him in the army as well. But the small circle he knew, and the even larger circle he didn't, were sure to snicker at this one mistake.

So why had it happened? Why had his lips and brain suddenly shut down? They knew what this mistake meant. With this one foul-up, his reputation as the youngest state alchemist was shattered into a soft pile of broken glass.

It happened one sunny afternoon at Central Headquarters. Edward and Alphonse Elric came back for Edward's yearly assessment and to file a report on their progress to finding the legendary Philosopher's Stone: the only tool to turn their bodies normal again. As always, Edward complained, Alphonse consoled. In moments like these, the difference between the two brothers was even more apparent.

It was difficult for anyone who did not know the boys personally to ever guess they were brothers. For one, Edward was of shorter height and temper. Alphonse, for all anyone knew, had an affinity for armor, which he wore everywhere. It earned him odd glances which Edward glared away. No one was to hurt his brother's feelings.

While Alphonse waited outside Edward entered the Colonel's office. Inside stood the Lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye, who looked up immediately upon his arrival and saluted. She, unlike the Colonel, had a more understanding nature. Though her outward appearance was stony, inside Edward knew she was a loving, warm woman. But mess with her and be ready to come face-to-face with the barrel of her military-issued handgun.

How had someone like this come to join an idiotic, sarcastic flirt like Mustang? Said man, he observed, did not take any notice of Edward's arrival—at least not for a moment or two. "Oh, Edward," the man greeted, glancing up from the paperwork spread across his desk.

The blond closed the door behind him. "Hello," he said softly. He would have growled if not for the Lieutenant's reassuring presence.

Both adults went back to how they were before Edward entered the room: Mustang hunched over paperwork and Hawkeye glaring down on him like a hawk. At last he satisfied her, sighing and lazily handing her the desired papers with his signature on them. "Thank you, sir," the woman stated with a small bow.

She headed for the door, casting a blank stare at the other blond before exiting. Edward stared after as though making sure she had left. "So, Edward," came the Colonel's deep voice. The chair creaked as the man threw his arms behind his head.

Edward turned and glared at him. He took a seat on the green sofa. "Nice to see you."

"Yeah," Edward responded, not daring to make eye-contact. He reclined on the couch, his real leg crossed over his fake and left arm hung over the back of the piece of furniture. He could feel the knowing smirk burning through the back of his neck.

"Now what's with that kind of attitude? You're happy to see me aren't you?"

"Just read the damn report!" Subtly was not one of the teenager's strong points. To Edward's great thanks Roy did as he was ordered and read the report. The sigh that followed a few minutes later was to be expected—full of disappointment.

"Edward." If only there was a way to fast-forward life. It would make these long lectures so much easier. "Money doesn't grow on trees."

"I know." Still Edward did not look sideways; he would not give in to that demented smirk.

"Then why come here with nothing?" Mustang scanned over the list and read allowed: "Bills from restaurants, inns, shopkeepers, potters, clowns—dare I ask—"

"It was a possible lead, okay?" The metal arm shook violently. It wanted to fulfill that one dream of knocking the Colonel's head clear off his broad shoulders.

"I see." Over the years, Edward had grown so used to Colonel Mustang's disappointed expressions he needn't have turned around to see them. Right now the Colonel was most likely giving him a blank stare and returning to the list.

"And yet what have you brought back? Nothing but dead ends."

"I know!"

There came another sigh. "Edward we can't keep financing this goose chase."

"I know!"

"At some point the higher ups will get suspicious if they aren't so already."

"I know!"

"And if you keep bringing back information like this," Edward envisioned in his mind the Colonel waving his hand over the paper, "then you won't be financed any longer. You'll be reassigned to more important research. And that research—"

"I know!"

"—may not have anything to do with reviving your bodies," Roy ignored the interruption. Another thing Edward hated: the Colonel could never be beat in patience. "In fact, it may lead you farther away."

"I know!"

"Apparently not," Roy stated, sitting back in his chair. "And you probably don't know what that means."

Edward snorted; there was nothing he did not know.

"If you are assigned a different research project, someone within that project may discover about you and your brother. Al will be hauled off to some lab to be experimented on and you will be stripped of your state alchemist position. Not only that," he continued, "but you'll be imprisoned. So I suggest you either stop taking these misguided 'leads' and concentrate on the real goal. You need to focus on that if you want to get your brother—"

He lost it. Edward jumped up and, pointing an angry finger at the man, yelled, "I know Dad now shut the hell up!"

In a split second did he realize what had just passed through his lips. He tried to ignore it, to fix it, but fumbled. "I-I mean Roy—Mustang—Colonel!" The damage was already done.

He knew Mustang had heard it, had heard Edward call him "Dad." Heck, the whole building probably caught it from the sheer volume Edward screamed it. But the Colonel ignored it.

He ignored it.

Ignored Edward's folly, Edward's embarrassing mistake. The Colonel, who had just been called "Dad," was scanning the list once more with indifferent black eyes.

"Right. Well," he started, setting the papers down and standing up. He turned about and stared out the window positioned directly behind his desk. "That'll do."

It took a moment but soon Edward realized he had been dismissed. He stepped forward, made a small bow, and headed for the door. As it closed behind him, Edward was sure he heard the soft whisper of "bye son" from the Colonel. But maybe that was just the creak of the door or his own mind playing tricks on him.

Neither Colonel Roy Mustang nor Edward Elric ever uttered a word of the incident.