A/N I'm back in the saddle again! Back! Again! Did anyone miss me? Anyone? Cricket? Beuler? The big secret is out but I just can't seem to quit writing this one. C'est la vie.

Falman looked at the long list of requisitioned items that had just come in from Reyta.

-La Femme Boutique $3000

-Hotel Reyta $10,000

-Cafe Faze $250

-Leatherman's $700

-Toys for Boys $1000

-Spa Junky $2000

-Hair World $200

-Hair World $200

-Snack Attack $50

-Reyta First Class Emporium of Sweet Buns $99

With Hawkeye on vacation and the Colonel worthless without his boy toy, the office had been trying to run itself without any incentive whatsoever to do so. The last time he had tried to go to the Colonel for help with something his superior had been drunk off of Xingese alcohol and ranting about his desperate desire to play with violin with his hands. That part was important because he had related it several times. With his hands. His hands were not just for setting things on fire. His hands were for the violin. After that misadventure, Falman had gone to Breda for advice. Breda had not been helpful. "Approve it," he had said "what is it? Twenty dollars in sweet buns? Comics for Al? Bid deal. If I wanted to deal with shitwork assignments I wouldn't have passed them onto you, I would have kept them for myself. It's the kind of crap we only bother with when Hawkeye makes us, anyway. Look, if it's bugging you out that much, give it to Fury." There were issues with this. Issue number one; it was around twenty thousand, not twenty. Issue two; the requisitions came out of their departments budget and twenty thousand was a huge hit. They could all get brand spanking new weaponry for that scratch. Issue three; they would all have to deal with Hawkeye when she got back from her well-deserved vacation and no work had been done. Issue four; like half of the department, Fury had taken leave since the Colonel was blindly signing all requests sent his way and didn't give a crap about anything. Technically, Falman was on his vacation too, but he couldn't think of anything to do so he just kept coming to work. There was one last person in the office Falman could go to and it was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

"Come on, Havoc! If I remember correctly it was a job you specifically requested in the first place!" Falman was not a man to get on his knees and beg, but he was that close if the situation didn't resolve itself soon.

"One. I only requested so it would get me away from Alphonse-formerly-metal-man-Elric because, and I love the kid, but he had a serious case of the puppy dog syndrome. Two. I have no idea how our department is going to cover that much money but if you take it to the Colonel he will defend his lover's ridiculous spending habits to the death. Three. Hawkeye is on vacation so why do you even care so much?"

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Falman made a snap decision. "If you balance the budget you can have my remaining vacation days. I'll do the paperwork for it myself."

Jean jerked in surprise. "You sir, have a deal."

Ring...Ring...Ring...

Shut up Roy thought blearily. Can't a guy pass out drunk in his own office anymore? Roy picked up the offensive object, brought it to his ear and promptly jerked it back a good foot away from his face. Right away Roy inferred the nature of the call.

"What the hell Mustang? Twenty thousand dollars on lollipops and pedicures? A hotel that is $1200 a night? Give me one good reason why your department approved that twerp's bills!" Roy thought fast and hard. Not easy under the circumstances. "Deep cover," he improvised, "the boys are deep cover as movers and shakers. There are stories of a rebellion forming against the state and the rumor is that the headquarters are in the Hotel Reyta. In order to appropriately infiltrate they need to look the part." I am so awesome, Roy thought to himself, proudly.

"Then why does it say 'vacation costs' as the reason listed?" the voice on the other end asked, much calmer now. "I did say, 'deep cover' right? No one in the office can know." Roy responded conspiratorially.

Al spun in a little circle in the middle of his new mecca, La Femme Boutique. It was the last day of their vacation and Al wanted to take full advantage of it by spending it in the holy land. He stocked up on Cherry Bomb lip glosses, curling irons, flat irons, bronzers, and a million other little necessities that would be difficult to fit on the train.

It may seem frivolous to some people, but to Al it was an absolute necessity. A thousand obsessions, interests, and objects amounted to several thousand distractions from the thoughts that would otherwise hound him mercilessly. Where had he been? How had his body come back? Why was he so much younger than he was supposed to be? Where the hell had his brother gone? How had he come back? So many things he shouldn't know. So many images he couldn't reconcile. He didn't want to know. He had to know. So the distractions. He went up to the checkout counter and piled up a huge stack of fashion magazines. When the cashier smiled at him, he smiled back.

"Hotel Reyta, this is Rei." Roy sighed. "Connect me to room 203, please."

"Right away, sir."

Ring...Ring...Ring...

Ugh. Couldn't a genius alchemist get drunk and pass out in his hotel room anymore?

"Edward Elric, sex therapist, how may I assist your needs?"

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

…

"Alright, fine. Yes, I'm drunk. Whaddya want, pervert?"

"Quit calling me a pervert, you don't exactly scream rape when I blow you."

"Which you don't do nearly often enough, by the way."

"Ditto."

"Reason for disturbing my vacation, please?"

"You need to come home, you're spending too much and I can't cover for you anymore."

"Cover for me? What story did you use?"

"You and your brother are on a deep cover assignment, infiltrating the Hotel Reyta."

"Hahaha! And they same I'm the genius!"

"Sorry, who says that? Voices in your head?"

"Shut up."

"Blow me."

"Back to that are we?"

"Just shut up and come home."

"I'll come home if you tell me you love me."

"I love you like Breda loves cake, Havoc loves cigarettes, and Hawkeye loves frowny faces."

Sweat trickled. Breathing was unsteady.

This was a tricky situation, with neither man fully being able to trust the other.

Slowly they inched closer together.

One step then another.

One man lifted his hand.

Then the other man lifted his hand.

Slowly, so slowly...

The two men exchanged paperwork.

Falman looked over his sheets of paper, all was perfectly balanced.

Havoc looked over the vacation transfer sheets, it was signed and dated.

Both men breathed a sigh of relief and went their separate ways.