In retrospect, nobody really should have been surprised; Roy Mustang had always said that, should he become Fuhrer, it would be his first order. It was mostly that people had thought it was a joke or something of that sort, that he wouldn't actually do it.
Riza Hawkeye attempted to ignore the draft as she waited for Roy to answer the knock at his door. When he didn't, she knocked again, then sighed and entered.
He was sprawled back in his chair with a smug, smug expression on his face, feet propped up on the desk. "Ahh," he said, leaning up enough to get a full view of her. "Major Hawkeye. I see you--"
Hawkeye dropped the arm-length stack of books on his desk, blandly.
"...er... what is this?"
"The history of women's liberation and egalitarianism," she said, promptly. "I believe you will find them useful."
Roy began to sweat. "I, ah-- Major Hawkeye, I have a great deal of work to do; I don't think I really have time--"
Gently, Hawkeye shut the door. "Then, perhaps, I can explain to you--"
***
Nobody was exactly sure what had caused their new Fuhrer to so quickly revise his order, though many of the men were disappointed. They'd been looking forward to toned, well-developed military women in miniskirts and what did they get?
"...all female noncombat agents of the Amesteris military; moreover, it will be the basic uniform for those too small for the regulation uniform. (See section 3.2: New Uniform requirements for all connected to the military)"
Really, it just wasn't the same.
***
"YOU STUPID SHIT FUHRER!" Ed kicked the door in, affording Roy quite the view. "FUCKING SLIME, HOW DARE YOU--"
"Fullmetal, please, use your indoor voice."
Ed sputtered into silence a moment, outraged, then launched into his tirade again, stomping over to slam his hands down on Roy's desk. "WHO THE FUCK IS SO SMALL THAT HE DOESN'T EVEN NEED A FULL SKIRT?!"
Somehow, it wasn't too surprising that it was the 'mini' part Ed took offense to, not the 'skirt' part.
"There's really nothing I can do about it," Roy said with manic cheer. "Hughes really started the whole skirt thing with Scheizka's uniform; it was easy enough to take designs for that and put it in place as the female noncombatant uniform."
Ed hopped onto the desk to glare at Roy more fully, legs straining the hem of his miniskirt. "AND WHAT PART OF ME IS FEMALE, EXACTLY?" Roy opened his mouth, and Ed slammed one solid metal hand down. "DON'T ANSWER THAT!"
Roy shrugged. "We don't have a regulation uniform in your size, Fullmetal; you'll just have to make do."
Sputtering, Ed pointed at him. "I've never had to wear the uniform! I'm an undercover field agent!"
"And when you're in the field, you'll be allowed to wear your usual dress, naturally," Roy said, folding his fingers. "But while between jobs here in Central, you're associated with the military and should dress the part."
"You'd better be working on a sm... ...my-sized uniform," Ed warned him, voice dark.
Roy smiled blandly. "Oh, certainly," he lied. "Why, I'm sure it'll be ready by next week."
"It had better be," Ed huffed, and turned to hop off the desk, not seeing as Roy leaned over to watch. "I'll just hide in my fucking room until then."
"Ah, one moment before you go, Fullmetal." Roy's smile widened as Ed turned, and he pointed up to the top of the bookshelves. "Can you get down the history of Amesterian cavalry for me?"
"But I--"
"You're not too short, surely."
Ed opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. He pointed at Roy, finger shaking accusingly, and spun on his heel to stomp over to the wall and snatch up Roy's ladder, propping it against the shelves.
Climbing the rungs left his rump stuck out a bit. Roy's smile turned blissful, and was still on his face when Ed came back down and handed the book over.
"That everything?" Ed asked and added, almost as an afterthought, "You freak."
"Thank you, Fullmetal," Roy purred. "I'll have something else for you to do soon enough, I'm sure."
He watched Ed's legs -- one flesh, one metal - as Ed stalked out of the room again.
Life, Fuhrer Roy Mustang decided, was good at the top.