Author's Notes: This was supposed to be serious - and then my brain had other ideas and it devolved into this. I will never get over Roy and his vendetta against other people when it comes to spinach quiche. The man needs to chill. The prompt was Roy and Havoc + "Come over here and make me."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters or anything are mine.

Sharing is Caring

It was a particularly busy day at Eastern Headquarters. No, that was an understatement. It had been a terribly busy week. Roy was certain that they had spent nearly the entire time at work as well, leaving themselves little to no sleep. He himself had slept in his office one night and he'd only managed to squeeze in a few hours before waking up to the sight of Riza, a mug of coffee, and another damnable stack of papers. The bombings last week at the prison and subsequent escapes of a few dangerous criminals had thrown everyone into a panic and it was everything they could do to keep things from boiling over.

Massaging his temples, Roy wearily stood up from his desk and walked outside of his interior office. The rest of his team didn't look much better. Everyone was in constant motion and working, but it had taken on a sluggish pace. Even Riza was having trouble concentrating on the map that she and Havoc were pouring over, making notations of the most recent and reliable sights of the criminals, while Fuery dutifully answered the tip line, looking progressively more dismayed as another caller proved to just be making things up. Falman was still examining the components of the bomb and trying to connect them with any past bombings in order to help identify the source while Breda worked on coordinating with the other teams that were investigating and also read through interrogation scripts.

It was a bloody mess.

When Roy cleared his throat, his team stopped what they were doing and looked up at him. Even Fuery took off his headphones and rubbed at his ears. They looked about as exhausted as he felt. The brass was running everyone ragged trying to find answers and solve this mess, but no matter how beat he was, he couldn't help but notice that his team in particular was getting the heaviest load and the most check ins with the higher ups. Whether that was because they trusted his team or wanted to punish them out of some sort of ill-conceived powerplay, Roy wasn't sure.

"Take a break, go get some lunch, splash some water on your face," Roy ordered. "We're just going to run in circles if we don't stir up the pot."

A visible sigh of relief rippled through the team, even Riza. Fuery took his headphones off and switched the board so that another team would get the calls. Falman dropped the papers and slumped in his seat, his eyes closed before the papers floated down to the desk. Breda stood up and worked on his lower back. Havoc stretched his arms out and then popped his neck. Riza took a breath, seemingly unaffected again, but he watched the way she slowly blinked her eyes, a little thing she did when she was tired. Out of everyone, Havoc and Riza looked the best, but Roy supposed that came with their sniper training. They were taught how to stay awake and in the same position for over a day if need be. It still didn't mean that they weren't feeling browbeaten.

"Unfortunately we don't have time for a long break, so I'll need you to bring your lunches back from the mess hall and eat them here while working," Roy told them. The team shot each other looks of pain, but they didn't say anything out loud to complain. "Brigadier General Miles is coming in to check on us in two hours. I know we've had little to no new information to work with, but he'll be expecting results anyways."

They all nodded, Havoc half-ass saluting mostly out of tiredness, and walked out of the office, with the exception of Falman and Roy himself. Fuery mentioned getting something for Falman and Riza knew what Roy would want. It appeared as if Falman was already asleep in his chair, but then he deserved it. The man had been pouring over so many papers about bombs and anything that could be connected in the past week that he'd probably become a near expert on the stuff. They needed that encyclopedia-like memory of his though.

While everyone else took a break, Roy dragged himself back to his office and rifled through the papers detailing what they had done so far. It wasn't a lot, which frustrated him. They received so many contradicting tips that it was hard to determine which ones were true and which ones were false. One person claimed that they saw one of the escaped convicts hiding out at the docks while another claimed they saw the same convict buying ice cream at the park. An obviously angry woman claimed that her ex-husband was the bomber while a young man was convinced that it was actually a ploy from the government. There was so much information pouring through, but only a trickle of it was useful, like sand slipping down an hourglass. He felt the time ticking away on him as well.

Fifteen minutes later, the team returned with lunch. It wasn't nearly as long as they deserved, but at least they were able to get out of the office, stretch, and clear their minds. Roy watched as they returned to their desks, trays of food in their hands. Normally they weren't allowed to take food out of the mess hall, but times like these allowed for a few exceptions.

Roy's stomach grumbled in complaint as Riza walked into the room. "Ah, you're a godsend, Hawk–" He cut himself off as he stared down at the plate before him. It was…sorely lacking. There was a flimsy-looking ham sandwich, a banana, and what looked like potato salad. "What's this?"

"Food, sir," Riza responded somewhat tartly.

Roy looked up at her incredulously. Was she acting out passive aggressively for keeping her here so long? She'd even been forced to have someone dogsit Black Hayate, as Brigadier General Miles despised dogs and didn't allow anyone to bring theirs to work. "I know that, Lieutenant, but… Where's the quiche? Did they not make any today?" It had been a dreadful day and he'd been so looking forward to that quiche. That small hope had maybe been the only thing keeping him sane.

An uncomfortable expression crossed Riza's face. She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands together tightly in front of herself. "No, they…ran out."

"Ran out?" Roy furrowed his brow. That never happened. They almost always made too much. The last time he had ever seen the stuff run out had been when Hughes took the last piece in their Academy days… Roy stood up from his desk. "Who took the last one?"

Riza didn't answer right away, which confirmed his suspicions. Someone on his team, someone who knew damn well how much Roy loved the food, had taken the last spinach quiche. Before she could say or do anything, Roy swept out of the office and cast a sharp eye at his subordinates. Breda didn't like spinach quiche. Falman was allergic to one of the ingredients in it. Fuery would know better. Riza would give him her slice before eating it herself. That only left..

"Ugh, these things are so delicious!" Havoc exclaimed as he took a large bite out of a quiche. "I can't believe I got the last ones. They never run out. I guess it's my lucky day."

Sitting on the tray in front of Havoc on his desk was not one, but three slices of spinach quiche. Three! What kind of delinquent would need three quiches? Roy clenched his fists at his side. Whether or not Havoc knew how much he loved the stuff, there was no way he could love them more than Roy. He wanted that quiche. He deserved it. He'd slept on a poorly made cot in his office yesterday; he'd worn the same uniform; he went through all the paperwork that they came up with individually; he dealt with the higher ups. He was snapped at and belittled and questioned and sneered at so that they wouldn't have to be.

And all he wanted, all he asked for, was a damn slice of spinach quiche and Havoc was sitting over there stuffing his face like he was at home for the holidays.

"Uh, sir, are you alright?" Breda asked uneasily.

It appeared as if Roy's silent glaring at Havoc hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, only the perpetrator himself. Riza stood behind him, a solid presence that he ignored. Fuery shrank in his seat. Even Falman had woken up and pulled up a folder in front of his face to hide.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc, what was going on in your head when you decided that you needed all that food?" Roy demanded, knowing full well that he sounded like a maniac. He didn't care. He wanted that quiche.

Havoc shrugged his shoulders. "That I was hungry and food tends to solve that."

"Three slices of quiche? The last remaining slices?"

"Four," Havoc actually had the nerve to say. "I ate one on the way here."

Behind him, Riza sighed, most likely in dismay. Only Havoc would think to be honest and damn himself even further. It was damn lucky for him that Roy wasn't wearing his ignition gloves. They were at his desk though. He could snatch them up and teach his subordinate a little lesson in sharing.

"Did you stop to consider that other hard-working people might want a piece?"

"Um…not really," Havoc responded. "There's other food in the cafeteria to eat."

"I don't care about other food!" Roy snapped, causing both Fuery to jump in his seat and Falman to drop the folder in his hands. Papers flew everywhere. "I wanted some spinach quiche! You know damn well that's my favorite food and it's the only thing that doesn't taste like cardboard was one of the ingredients!" He pointed the banana that Riza had given him at Havoc. "Now, trade me a slice for a banana. It's only fair."

Perhaps under normal circumstances, Havoc would've shrugged his shoulders and handed over a slice of quiche. After all, it was only food in the end and it wasn't his favorite. There would be more tomorrow for lunch. He'd give Roy a piece, make some sort of quip, and go back to work. It'd be a big laugh later on, a story they could tease Roy about, giving him the nickname Quiche Monster or something like that.

But these weren't normal circumstances and Havoc was dog tired and feeling rather stubborn for no real purpose other than the fact that he was sleep deprived. "No. If you'd wanted some quiche so bad, you should've gone down to the cafeteria yourself instead of sending Hawkeye to get your food like a waitress."

Roy nearly choked on his tongue. Like a waitress? Breda's eyes about bugged out of his head. Riza put a hand on Roy's shoulder to calm him down, but he shrugged her off. Havoc, meanwhile, picked up another quiche and, without breaking eye contact with Roy, shoved the entire thing in his mouth.

"Give me a quiche, Second Lieutenant," Roy growled. "That's an order."

Havoc swallowed the food down and snatched up another piece. "Come over here and make me."

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still and no one breathed. Falman closed his eyes, as if mentally committing the time and date of Havoc's death in his mind. Breda shoved his sandwich in his mouth. Fuery scooted his chair back. Riza didn't move a hair.

A second later, Roy dropped the banana and launched himself physically at Havoc, knocking the man out of his chair and sending the quiche in his hands flying in the air. It didn't last very long and no punches were thrown, but it took some time and commanding shouts to drag the two officers away from each other.

"Colonel!" Riza called as she pulled on him. "Sir! Mustang!"

Finally, they were able to separate the two, Riza and Falman holding onto Roy while Breda and Fuery had hold of Havoc. The two men were breathing heavily and glowering at each other, their hair messed up and uniform out of sorts even more than normal. Roy jerked himself from their grasps just as Havoc did the same.

"Oh, sir…" Fuery sighed.

Roy looked in the direction of Fuery, catching his sad look, and then followed his line of sight. On the ground were the two remaining pieces of spinach quiche, one squashed on the floor. During their brief struggle, they'd managed to knock the tray onto the ground. Roy groaned. All that fighting and for absolutely nothing. Wasn't that the way fighting always went? No one won in the end. He should've known better instead of acting like a petulant child.

"Ah, hell." Havoc scratched the back of his head. "I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry, sir."

"No, I'm sorry," Roy said. "We're all tired and frustrated and we've been stuck with each other for days on end. These things tend to happen." He couldn't believe that he'd been ready to punch Havoc over a slice of quiche. Had he lost his mind completely? Had the hope of eating a piece really been the only thing keeping him from losing it? "On second thought, we're going to need a longer break. We'll have sufficient information to give to Miles. You've got thirty minutes."

Everyone looked at him gratefully, except for Riza, who was frowning. No doubt he'd have to push her a bit before she took a break. He himself walked into his office and shut the door. Taking a break was exactly the kind of order that he was going to follow through with. He collapsed in his seat and tipped himself backwards. After all, if he was willing to fight someone over food, he really did need a nap. Surely Riza would see the benefit in that.