Thanks to Em for the excellent job beta-ing, I hope you all enjoy!

Jean was the last to come into the office that morning, but that fact did very little to hurry him. Instead he strolled casually, whistling the tune to an old drinking song he learned at the academy. It was a nice day, and while Jean didn't get a whole lot of sleep because he'd been thinking too much to rest, he had enough giddiness and excitement to make him feel refreshed and ready to face the day.

The rest of the office was decidedly less cheery. Breda rested his chin on his hands, stretching the skin of his cheeks while his eyes struggled to open beyond half-mast. Fuery was staring at the device in front of him, looking uncharacteristically angry as he considered it. Falman had a pencil in hand and was scribbling something, but the motions in his wrist suggested that he was more likely doodling than writing. Hawkeye looked as diligent as ever, sorting through the stacks of paper on her desk with a practiced ease. She didn't look up from her work as Havoc sauntered in.

"You seem happy," remarked Breda nonchalantly.

Jean beamed at his friend. "Just excited to start my first day of my new rank!" He stood to attention in front of Breda's desk even though Breda no longer outranked him. He brought his hand to his forehead in a mock-salute. "Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, reporting for duty!"

"You didn't seem that excited about it yesterday," Breda replied, his eyebrow raising curiously.

Breda was right, when Havoc sat through Mustang's breakdown of the Second Lieutenant's role, Havoc listened with a growing sense of dread. As he gaped at the ridiculously long list of new responsibilities that the job would entail, the small bump in his paycheck seemed minuscule in proportion. Havoc had been perfectly happy where he was. He wasn't looking to move up in the ranks; that was for the likes of Breda and Mustang to worry about.

"What can I say? That was yesterday. Every day's a new opportunity, right?" Havoc grinned.

Hawkeye stood up from her desk with an armful of paperwork, separating a hefty block of paper, which she extended to Havoc.

"And today's opportunity is getting caught up on yesterday's case reports," she said dryly.

He turned his attention to Hawkeye - beautiful, wonderful Hawkeye - a practiced smirk on his face as he lit his first cigarette of the morning. "You know, you don't outrank me anymore, Second Lieutenant ," he teased. "We're going to have to learn to talk as equals now."

"That would involve us doing an equal share of the work," she replied.

He smiled wider, taking the paperwork and going to his desk. He could feel Breda eye him warily as he picked up his whistling tune, the gears turning in his ginger head, but he said nothing.

A half-hour later, Mustang emerged from his office. The Lieutenant-Colonel had a pained look on his face, the kind he only ever wore when he was about to go to a particularly boring meeting. He plucked his jacket from the coat rack and shrugged into it.

"Ready?" he called out, seemingly to no-one, though everyone knew better.

"Yes sir," came her dutiful reply. Hawkeye stood up, grabbing a file, notebook, and pen, and opened the door for him as he stomped out of the office, smoothing the wrinkles of his uniform. She followed closely behind.

Once the door was closed and the sound of footsteps faded, Breda lifted his head once more.

"Come on. What's got you so smiley today?" Fuery and Falman lifted their heads from their work as well, watching the two of them.

Havoc shot Breda a grin. "Like I said, new opportunities."

"Stop being vague and just spit it out," Breda grumbled. Havoc's grin widened. Breda was a smart guy, and Havoc knew that he hated feeling out of the loop.

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "I was thinking about my promotion, right?"

"Right."

"And I was thinking, not only does it give me a pay bump and a new round of headaches…" Havoc lowered his voice conspiratorially. "It also opens up a whole new dating pool."

Fuery looked dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean , little guy, is that there's a whole new set of fine lady soldiers to choose from."

"Soldiers? But what about the anti-fraternization laws? ' Any sexual or romantic relationship between a Commanding Officer and their subordinate shall be deemed a violation of the chain of command and therefore on par with sedition in the eyes of the military '" recited Falman robotically.

"Ah, see? A C.O. and subordinate," Havoc stressed. "Anything my rank or under is fair game."

Breda's eyes widened in realization of what Havoc was implying, jaw hanging open in horror. The other men didn't seem to catch on as quickly.

Fuery pondered the information thoughtfully. "So… You're happy because you get to date more female officers?" he asked.

"Exactly!"

"It's still not a big pool, there aren't many female officers, let alone those of the rank of Second Lieutenant," said Falman.

Havoc winked conspiratorially at the tall officer. "There is one …"

Silence filled the room as Breda's expression spread to Falman and Fuery. The three of them stared at Havoc in wide-eyed horror.

Havoc suddenly felt very exposed. "...What?"

"Oh, Havoc…" Fuery shook his head.

"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting…" offered Falman quietly.

"You're a bigger idiot than I thought," finished Breda, looking somewhat awestruck.

Havoc was undeterred, still smiling. "No, you don't get it! What's the one thing that keeps getting in the way of my love life?"

"The fact that women don't want to date you," Breda offered.

"The challenges of balancing the job with your personal life," said Falman confidently. Havoc got the feeling there was a hint of projection in the answer.

"Women lose interest quickly?" suggested Fuery.

Havoc pointed towards Fuery. " Close ! The second I get a good thing going with a girl, in sweeps a certain someone and suddenly I'm being stampeded over to reach him."

"Heh. Yeah," recalled Breda. He cast his eyes to the ceiling dreamily, no doubt recalling a time or four when Havoc was left alone and humiliated while his commanding officer left arm-in-arm with his newest love interest.

"The second that arrogant bastard lays on the charm, I'm toast," Havoc continued. "So…who's the one woman Mustang's never tried it on with?"

Havoc wasn't sure what reaction he was expecting. Something along the lines of awed silence, or maybe someone saying "Wow, you're right Havoc!" or "That's genius!" Instead they all eyed him skeptically.

Havoc shrunk a little under their gazes. "What?"

The men looked at each other, careful expressions on their faces, like they all had the same answer but were considering how best to word it. Breda took up the mantle.

"Okay, ignoring the obvious for now," he began, carefully. "How exactly do you think Hawkeye will react to you coming on to her?"

Havoc's smile brightened. "Glad you asked!" He'd given that a lot of thought last night. "Hawkeye's a reasonable person, real practical , you know? I'm sure if I put forward a good case, she'll have no choice but to say yes to a date! I just gotta lay down some groundwork first, and then I'll make my move."

"While she is quite… utilitarian," Falman pondered, "we have no reason to believe that her practicality extends to her personal life."

" You have no reason," amended Havoc. "I've known her since the academy. Believe me, she isn't putting on an act at work, that's just who she is."

"I've known her since the academy too," remarked Breda. "And I remember the first time you tried it on with her."

Havoc shivered at the memory of a young Hawkeye's scathing rebuttal to his pick-up line that left him blushing while the other cadets laughed. In truth, that wasn't even the first time - it was just the first time that Breda had been there. "That was back then, we're not kids anymore. I've matured . I have a steady job now, I've got more game, and I know not to suggest sex until after I get a date out of a woman."

Fuery piped up, eyes shining with caution through his thick glasses. "Do you…actually like her though? In that way?"

"Sure I do! What's not to like? She's hot, takes care of her body, into guns, funny in a straight-laced kind of way, and , she's bossy." Havoc leaned back in his seat and grinned. "I think I might be kind of into that," he admitted. He continued before Breda could get a jab in. "We're both young and attractive and we met as kids and now we work well together. It's practically a love story! All I have to do is make her see that and I'm gold," he finished triumphantly.

Nobody looked convinced.

By this point, Breda's face creased and folded into the features of someone who was beginning to get annoyed. "Okay, so circling back to Mustang, " he began, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. "How do you think he's gonna react when he hears that you two are dating?" Breda's emphasis on the word "dating" gave Havoc the impression that he couldn't believe he was even using the word.

"How do you mean?"

"The Lieutenant-Colonel is rather partial to…loyalty," Falman ventured. "If two of his subordinates were in a relationship, he may consider it conspiracy against him."

Havoc waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, Mustang may be a bit intense, but he wouldn't question my loyalty and he definitely wouldn't question Hawkeye's."

Everyone leaned towards him, eyes wide, as if he were on the edge of some kind of epiphany and they were encouraging him to get there. He wracked his brain for a moment but he couldn't for the life of him work out what they wanted him to understand.

He took a stab at placating their anticipated stares. "Besides, I'll talk to Mustang about it first. That way he won't be blindsided when his bodyguard falls hopelessly in love with me."

Breda fixed Havoc with a serious stare. "Okay, so let's recap for a second. You're mad that Mustang gets all the chicks, you figure he's never made a move on Hawkeye, and the only reason that could be is that he's not interested…"

Havoc nodded.

"So your plan is to walk right up to the man who wants to rule the world and tell him you plan on making a move on the woman that's literally sworn her life to him. Then, you're gonna walk on up to said woman - one of the best soldiers in the Amestrian army by the way - and pretty much just say 'hey, we're both single, how 'bout it?'"

He nodded again. "Pretty much."

Fuery and Falman shared a look that Havoc couldn't quite place, while Breda's wide eyes remained transfixed on Havoc. The silence in the room was deeply uncomfortable, and Havoc couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important.

Breda sighed, his face softening in resignation.

"Good luck."

When Mustang and Hawkeye returned from their meeting, Havoc waited a few minutes before excusing himself and entering Mustang's office.

Mustang was slouched over his desk when Havoc entered. He lifted his head with a confused frown as Havoc marched towards the desk. Havoc saw a brief flash of surprise in his superior officer's eyes, as if he had been expecting someone else. He recovered quickly.

"Havoc," he greeted.

Havoc grinned. "Hey boss. Got some stuff here for you to sign off on."

Mustang frowned. "They're trying to kill all the trees. That is the only possible reason for them to smother me in paperwork," he grumbled. "I'm getting sick of spending my evenings catching up on worthless request forms."

"Speaking of how you spend your evenings, how's Katelyn?" asked Havoc, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Mustang creased his forehead. "The bartender? I assume she's fine. How do you know her?"

Havoc balked. "Because I was the one flirting with her before you came along!"

Mustang tried to cast his mind back to that night, and Havoc was insulted that it took him so long to recall. "Ah. Well if it's any consolation, she asked me out."

Havoc suppressed the urge to yell at his commanding officer. In what world would that be a consolation? He shook his head, trying to keep his anger in check. " Anyway . That's all in the past. And I have my eye on someone else now, someone even you won't be able to charm away," he added, somewhat indignantly.

Mustang smiled incredulously at the information, as if he didn't quite believe that such a person existed. "Oh? Who's the lucky lady? Do I know her?"

Despite being somewhat annoyed by Mustang's general cockiness, Havoc couldn't stop a conspiratorial grin from spreading across his face. "You could say that…"

Mustang, intrigued and happy to play along, leaned forwards on the desk. "Is it the girl from the deli?"

"No."

"The woman we saw in the bar last week?"

Havoc shook his head.

"Is it the waitress at the café down the street?"

"Nope."

Roy breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because that lady is… intense ," he muttered. Havoc bristled at the implication before Mustang's smile widened. "Come on, give me a hint at least."

Havoc looked over his shoulder to the closed door, more for dramatic effect than anything else.

"Let's just say you two are…close."

Mustang stared into space, as if he was trying to think of any woman in the world he could be considered close to. Havoc could practically see the no-doubt-extensive list of women's names flitting through his mind.

Then his eyes lit up in realization as the smile slowly melted off his face. His jaw clenched shut. Something in the air felt heavy, like the atmosphere after a joke, when the punchline doesn't quite land as intended.

"Havoc…" he said finally.

Havoc beamed, trying to ignore the threatening tone of Mustang's voice and the nervous energy that followed. It was a good plan, he just had to explain himself and Mustang would understand.

"Isn't it genius? This way we both get what we want. You get to keep dating any woman you come across and I get to be in a relationship without worrying that you're gonna steal them away."

A muscle in Mustang's jaw twitched. "If this is about getting back at me…"

"What? No!" And it wasn't. Havoc may have been pretty pissed off about his commanding officer's easy way with women, but his new (or renewed) interest in Hawkeye wasn't born of spite. "I like her," he said, softly, as if the confession was embarrassing.

Mustang's scowl was only half-hearted, like he wasn't sure whether he was angry at Havoc or felt sorry for him. "Warrant Officer, need I remind you of the inevitable court martial that would follow, should you act on your-"

"It's Second Lieutenant now, remember?" he interrupted. "Hawkeye and I are equals."

Mustang's eyes widened in realization before narrowing again, inarguably angry this time. He clenched his fist tightly, knuckles white as the stacks of paper on his desk.

He took a deep breath. "Listen, Havoc. You're my friend. Hawkeye is my friend. We're all friends," he said, clearly and slowly as if he were talking to a child. "And as a friend, I'm telling you now: do not try and seduce the woman you work with."

The tone of voice raised Havoc's hackles instinctively. He never claimed to be the brightest spark, but he hated being patronized. Especially since he really had thought this whole thing through, and he hadn't been expecting this level of resistance from literally everyone he'd spoken to about it so far. "Why not? We're both adults, it won't affect our work."

"I never said it would," Mustang replied. Then, as if a switch flipped in his brain, all anger seemed to drain from him. He relaxed his clenched fists, sat back in his chair and looked out at the window, wearing the smirk of someone with nary a care in the world. "Besides, I just don't think you're her type," he said, as if he were stating a simple fact, like the color of the sky.

Havoc had seen this switch before, how the Lieutenant-Colonel could change from fury to complete apathy in the blink of an eye, usually when he was trying to not seem upset at being passed up for a promotion. Havoc had seen it so much, in fact, that he wasn't fooled in the slightest. He had no insight into what Hawkeye's 'type' may be, but he had the distinct feeling that Mustang was talking from the same level of ignorance on the subject. "You're just pissed off at the thought of me getting a girlfriend you can't take away," Havoc accused.

Mustang's eyes flashed at the word 'girlfriend', and some of the veneer of his pomposity slipped momentarily.

"Trust me Havoc, I know women."

Havoc couldn't exactly argue with that. "Yeah, well Hawkeye's not exactly your typical woman," he grumbled instead. "And I've known her longer than anyone."

Mustang didn't respond, but the stiffness in his shoulders returned and something in his expression made Havoc feel like he said something wrong. But he wasn't wrong – he met Hawkeye at the academy, before she was dispatched to Ishval, where she was assigned to the same unit as Mustang.

"Whatever. I'm not sure why I'm even talking to you about this," Havoc spat. When Mustang snapped out of his reverie, his lips curled into that stupid, practised smirk again and Havoc felt strangely relieved. Mustang's smugness was much more familiar than whatever the hell just happened.

"Maybe you wanted my advice. I'm flattered, really," he drawled.

Havoc scowled. "I can get women all by myself, you know. You may be God's gift, but I do have some game."

"Well regardless, my advice is this: stick to bothering women a little closer to your wheelhouse."

God, he could be such an asshole sometimes. "You know what? I'm a big boy, I don't need your approval." Havoc gave a half-hearted salute and turned to leave.

"Havoc. I haven't dismissed you yet."

Havoc froze, bristling at Mustang's words. Mustang rarely pulled rank like that and wasn't usually one for military propriety when it was just him and his men. He turned around again and stood up straight, facing his commanding officer's serious stare with a grimace.

Mustang eyed him intensely. "If you try something, you will regret it."

Havoc scoffed. "I'm not worried. She's a lot less scary than she seems."

"I'm not talking about her," he said calmly, but the menacing tone was not lost on Havoc, who all of a sudden felt very cold. Mustang waited a few seconds for the weight of his words to sink in, before waving a hand. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Dismissed."

Havoc turned towards the door, swallowing a lump in his throat. The threat in Mustang's tone was more than just that of someone looking out for a friend. Havoc got the feeling that he had put himself into the middle of something big and important, but he didn't want to dwell on that right now. One thing was for sure though: Mustang wasn't convinced by Havoc's plan.

Well, he thought with a hint of bitterness, thinking of his talk with the other officers this morning. Get in line, buddy.

This whole idea came from the thought that he wouldn't have to compete for Hawkeye's affection. But if Mustang wanted to play the game anyway just to piss Havoc off, Havoc would put up a hell of a fight. And this time at least, he'd have the advantage.

By the time Fuery had made the hunk of junk he was working on look like a presentable piece of equipment, he looked incredibly crestfallen at the papers that had been piled on his desk in the meantime. He clearly hadn't expected the tinkering he was doing to last all morning. As it approached lunchtime, he rifled through the stack.

"Well at least it's all in order. Thanks, Second-Lieutenant."

Hawkeye hummed in recognition of the gratitude.

"We'd all be lost without you, Hawkeye," Havoc ventured, but apparently Hawkeye was done giving out acknowledgement. Compliments didn't tend to work on Hawkeye, but Havoc figured that already. Moreover, he knew exactly what would impress the lady, so instead of embarrassing himself further, he worked on that for a while.

The look on Mustang's face when he entered the room was that of someone who had far more work to do but was looking for any excuse to ignore it. This was nothing new.

He casually strode over to Breda's desk, grabbing a candy and pretending to look over the officer's shoulder at his work. Popping the sweet in his mouth, he let out a series of soft 'ah's and 'hm's as he pretended to read, punctuated with short nods. Breda steadfastly ignored him.

When Hawkeye rose from her desk, both Havoc and Mustang looked up from their varying levels of 'work'.

"Where are you going?" asked Havoc hurriedly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mustang shoot him an affronted glare, as if Havoc stole his line.

Hawkeye grabbed her shoulder holster, shrugging into it like a familiar jacket. "Gun range."

Havoc stood up. "I'll come with you!" he offered. This was perfect. An opportunity to talk to Riza alone, and on familiar turf too. He wasn't totally matched with Riza when it came to shooting - nobody was. But he was damn close, about as close as anyone could be. Showing off his skills, talking guns with her, and showing her how much they had in common? He couldn't ask for a better opportunity.

"Don't you have work to finish up?" asked Mustang.

Havoc grinned. Mustang walked right into that one.

"Actually sir , I finished all my paperwork," he said, pointing at his (pretty well organized, if he did say so himself) pile of papers ready to be sent out this evening. "Yesterday's case reports and everything assigned to me today so far."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow, walking over to Havoc's desk and picking up one of the case reports. Havoc held his breath as she scanned it with her sharp eyes.

"Impressive," she mumbled, handing it back to him. She wasn't smiling, but he sure as hell was as he took it from her and dropped it somewhere in the vicinity of his desk, not taking his eyes off hers.

"Thanks," he breathed with an awkward chuckle. It worked! She was looking at him like he managed to surprise her. In a good way! "Let me just grab my stuff and we can-"

"I hope you and Breda aren't going to easy on him, Hawkeye," interrupted Mustang. There was a jovial tone to the statement, but it was strained. "Just because it's his first day in his new rank doesn't mean he should get away with doing less. He needs to learn quick how much more work there is to do." The bastard had a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes as he turned to Havoc. "Why don't you help Fuery out with his work? Poor kid looks like he's about to drown in paper."

Havoc fought the growl he felt climbing up his throat. "Yes sir," he gritted.

Mustang smiled wider, a sweet-as-honey smile with enough smugness hiding underneath for Havoc to spot.

Hawkeye was either oblivious to or completely ignoring the excess secretions of testosterone in the room. Once she left, Mustang stretched from his spot behind Breda and strolled back to his office with a victor's strut.

Havoc picked up some of the files from Fuery's desk. Fuery met his frustrated scowl with an uneasy smile.

"Thank you," he squeaked, meekly but genuinely.

"Yeah, yeah," Havoc mumbled bitterly.

He didn't get a chance to speak to her at lunch, though he did see her in the mess hall with Mustang, drinking coffee and looking over a report. When Mustang spotted him across the room, he turned to Hawkeye and pointed at a sentence in the file between them. When she leaned in to read the sentence, their shoulders pressed against each other. Mustang looked at Havoc again with a tiny but triumphant grin. Havoc scowled and decided against trying to coax her from whatever work she was doing.

When lunch was over, however, Havoc was the first back at his desk. When Hawkeye and Mustang entered, Hawkeye's expression was mildly surprised whereas Roy eyed him warily.

"You're keeping busy," he said cautiously.

Havoc tried his best to look as despairing as he could. "Just trying to get a grasp of these new funding orders. I never had to do them before my promotion, and there are so many forms that need to be filled out." He looked up at Hawkeye with a pathetic expression. "Mind helping me out?"

"Let's see," Hawkeye started towards Havoc's desk before an arm reached out to block her path.

"I can assist," Mustang offered by way of explanation.

Hawkeye sighed. "No sir, you can't. I've seen the pile on your desk, not to mention the fact that you've done nothing to prepare for your meeting with General Hakuro. There's a lot to go over and he arrives in two days."

Now it was Havoc's turn to smile triumphantly as Hawkeye drew a chair up next to him and shared his small desk. Mustang narrowed his eyes as he skulked back to his office. Passing the now-shared desk, his leg nudged against Havoc's hip so gently even Havoc couldn't accuse it of being an intentional shove.

Turning his attention to Hawkeye, Havoc watched the muscles of her throat as she spoke. He ran his eyes up to the feminine curve of her jawline, and the particularly soft-looking patch of skin under her earlobe. When he finally tracked his eyes to meet hers, he found them looking at him expectantly.

Crap. She was waiting for an answer to something.

"Uh, sorry what was that?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line briefly before she spoke again. "Request for additional funding if the order is over-budget?"

"Oh! First you need a CK2 form signed by someone above the rank of Major, then a copy of the request gets sent to a General," he recited proudly. He wasn't struggling quite as much as he had let on.

She nodded. "So next we should go over the travel-expense reports."

"Yeah, cool cool. Hey, it's been a minute since we got to really chat. You know, just you and me. How've you been?"

"Please pay attention."

Had Havoc a tail, it would have been firmly between his legs as he tore his eyes from his very pretty co-worker and back onto the papers in front of him. The rest of his (less pretty, in his opinion) co-workers shuffled in from their lunch.

When Hawkeye was satisfied with Havoc's knowledge, she moved back to her own desk. Havoc plucked a cigarette from his pack and placed it between his lips. He fished for his lighter in his pocket, but his fingers didn't touch the familiar cool steel. Patting himself down with increasing panic, he found no lighter on his person.

"Everything okay?" asked Breda, watching Havoc fidget from the corner of his eye.

"Can't find my lighter," he grumbled, unlit cigarette balancing on his bottom lip. He lifted the papers from his desk to check underneath. Nothing. He was looking forward to this smoke, and it promised to be a good one at that! The three best smokes of the day were the first one with morning coffee, the one after lunch and the one when he arrived home after work. He'd already delayed the after-lunch cigarette long enough, and now he couldn't find his damn lighter! "You wouldn't happen to have one, would you?" he asked, already knowing the answer but daring to hope for a second.

Breda, rather predictably, shook his head while the rest of the office offered shrugs and mumbled apologies.

After a few hours, Havoc still had the unlit cigarette in his mouth. The filter was wet with spit and crushed with the grinding of his teeth. He was clasping the pen in his hand so tightly that he could feel bruises forming on the pads of his fingers. When Mustang emerged from his office to file his paperwork, Havoc barely noticed.

Then Falman piped up. "Oh, sir, while you're here! Havoc seems to have misplaced his lighter. Could you assist?"

Any other time, Mustang would probably have yelled indignantly about how he wasn't a human matchstick. This time though, Havoc looked up to see a strange grin on Mustang's face. When he slowly pulled a glove from his pocket and slipped it on to his hand, the sparkle in his eyes was deranged.

"My pleasure," he said menacingly.

Havoc gulped.

"Hahaha, you know what? I've been meaning to cut down anyway," he said with a shaking voice, waving his hands in front of him and letting the cigarette fall from his mouth into his lap.

Mustang affected a concerned look, a little too cartoonish to be genuine. "If you're sure…"

"Positive!" Havoc said hurriedly.

Mustang simply shrugged, before turning to Hawkeye, maniacal smile wiped from his face and replaced with a more neutral expression.

"Do you have the notes from this morning's meeting?"

"Yes sir, I've added the necessary steps to the itinerary for tomorrow."

"Excellent. Let me know when you're sending the paperwork this evening. I'll have more ready to ship out."

As Mustang returned to his office, he put his glove back in his pocket and Havoc released a breath that he would never admit to holding. But Mustang kept his hand in his pocket, and Havoc could hear a metallic clinking sound. The sound was vaguely familiar, and it wasn't until Mustang left the room that Havoc recognized it. It was the sound of the top of a lighter being flicked up and down repeatedly.

Havoc suddenly remembered when the Colonel had brushed past him earlier. He went back to grinding his teeth.

The next day quickly devolved into a quick-fire pissing contest between the two men. Mustang spontaneously made coffee that morning before Hawkeye got the chance, saying she worked too hard and needed the chance to wake up. One-nil.

Havoc got her excitedly talking about her new bolt-action and they talked guns while Mustang gaped at them incomprehensibly. One-One.

Mustang looked Havoc dead in the eye with a smirk as she brushed lint from his shoulder. Two-one?

Havoc invited her out to lunch, but Mustang strong-armed his way into coming along. Havoc was grumpy about it but he chose the cafe down the street, wherein Mustang was publicly embarrassed by a rather dramatic and disgruntled waitress/ex-fling. Havoc wasn't sure exactly who won that one.

By the end of the day, Havoc was exhausted and grumbling under his breath. There was no clear winner, except that Mustang's sole purpose seemed to be pissing Havoc off and he was definitely succeeding in that.

As Hawkeye slipped her coat on to leave for the day, Havoc realized that the men had already left. Except Mustang, who had offered to take the paperwork for filing (that was definitely a point in his favor). Havoc looked around the room again, as if not quite believing his luck. His findings confirmed it; they were alone.

He had kind of forgotten the end-game among all the antics. He'd spent so much time trying to get a rise out of Roy (or trying to hide it when Roy got a rise out of him) that he forgot that the entire goal was her.

And now he had a chance. And he didn't have a clue what to say.

"Um…" he began awkwardly.

It got her attention at least. She turned around and raised an eyebrow in expectation. With all of the weird energy Havoc and their boss were emitting, he'd seen that raised eyebrow a lot in the last couple of days.

"What's up?" he asked, instantly cursing to himself at the inane question.

Hawkeye's expression softened. "I know what this is about."

"Yeah?" Of course she did. It's not like he's renowned for his subtlety.

"Yes. You were right yesterday."

Yesterday. Yesterday. What the hell had he said yesterday? "I was?"

She nodded. "We haven't really gotten the chance to talk much since we began working together."

"Oh! Right!"

"We should catch up. Maybe celebrate your promotion. Are you free tomorrow?"

Hell. Yes.

"Sure," he rasped.

"Perfect. We should have dinner."

"Gotta eat," he chuckled, knowing before he even said it exactly how lame it sounded. He tried to recover as quickly as possible. "Ahem. So there's this real fancy bistro close to my place, apparently it does a mean monkfish." He could picture it already: her with a nice dress and a glass of red in her hand, cheeks flushed and smiling. Him in a suit with a charming smile as they eat an ugly-ass fish and pretend not to be grossed out by it.

The corner of her mouth twitched into a half-smile. "I don't think that's really either of our styles."

She was right. She was often so regal and elegant that he easily forgot that she was a country girl who made the same meagre amount of money that he now made. She didn't need fancy stuff. God , the more he thinks about her, the more perfect she becomes.

"Okay. You got any place in mind?"

"What about the place that does meat pies, near the park?"

"Sounds good!" And it did. He loved a good chicken pot pie and if there was even the slightest chance of a moonlit walk through the park afterwards, he would cast aside any fears of muggers and serial killers and take that chance.

Havoc barely registered the creak of the door swinging open as she replied. "Excellent. Tomorrow at six, I'll meet you there."

"Sure," he breathed.

Hawkeye gathered her things and left the office, and it was only then that he realized she was sliding past someone.

Mustang watched him with the same frustration and ire he had been displaying for the past few days, but underneath it there was something else tugging at his bottom lip. Something close to hurt. Havoc couldn't manage to smirk at him in victory, mostly because he couldn't wipe the goofy, delighted, open-mouthed grin from his face. He didn't even flinch when Mustang left, slamming the door behind him.

The next morning, Havoc woke up before his alarm, a giddy fluttering in his stomach instantly rousing him from sleep to fully-awake. He put on his military blues and tried to remind himself that tonight was not a date, not yet. He still had some convincing to do, but this evening would guarantee some time to talk with her alone.

Still, he hoped it would be indistinguishable from a date, an evening he could describe to their future kids as their first date. He already had a shirt and nice pair of pants hanging from his bedroom door, ready to go as soon as he got home and had a shower. He wondered if she would wear a dress. He stopped into a store on the way to work to buy a pack of mints. You know, for when he…talked to her. Nobody wanted to talk to someone with bad breath.

When he arrived at the office, Mustang and Hawkeye were gone, probably to the meeting with Hakuro. Havoc cheerily greeted the remaining men in the office and sat down at his desk, lighting a cigarette and grabbing a pen. He planned to work as diligently as he could today; no messing around. There was no way in hell he'd be doing overtime this evening to catch up.

The greatest thing about the banality of paperwork was that it was so mindless it gave Havoc the chance to imagine the evening, and more importantly, prepare what he was going to say to her.

So...Hawkeye. Riza? No, Hawkeye. I was wondering if you'd like…if you'd do me the honor… No. I was thinking we could do this again sometime. Not this, exactly. But something like…something more than… We have so much in common! Hey Hawkeye, we get along. Why don't we try… No.

God, was it so difficult to talk to her like a normal human?

Would you like to go on a date sometime? Like this, but with intent. With feeling? Like this, but a little more intimate. Did he really have to describe what a date was to her? He hoped not. He hoped she's had dates before. Oh God, he hoped she wasn't dating someone now!

When she returned to the office just before lunch, everyone, Havoc included, felt the strangeness of the room. Something was out-of-place, and Havoc felt an eerie sense of unease. Not quite danger, but odd nonetheless.

Fuery caught it first. "Where's the Lieutenant-Colonel?"

That was it. Hawkeye never entered a room before Mustang unless she was scouting or she wasn't with him. They had presumably gone to the same meeting, so it was Mustang who was supposed to walk back in through the door first.

"He has some personal business with General Grumman. I was told to return to my desk," she replied, though she sounded colder than usual. She was hiding something, or more accurately, she wasn't hiding something and didn't like to be left out of the loop if there was something to hide, especially if it concerned Mustang. Mustang told Riza everything, everyone knew that.

Havoc briefly worried that Mustang was upset with her after overhearing her conversation with him. Maybe Mustang assumed she had agreed to a date, and he was so mad at losing whatever game he and Havoc were playing that he took it out on her. He had walked in just in time for the end of the conversation, so it would be easy to assume she was setting the time and place for a date.

He hoped that Mustang wouldn't be so stupid get upset with her over it. Especially since there was nothing to be upset about. As much as Havoc would love for it to be otherwise, they weren't going on a date tonight.

"Well, you should come eat. That meeting took a long time," Havoc said, in as upbeat a voice as he could manage.

"Thank you but I need to catch up on my work. You're right, the meeting dragged on so I have a lot to do."

Havoc's shoulders slumped. "Well if you want, we could-"

"I brought lunch from home, I'll eat it at my desk." Her tone was no-nonsense, but after a moment she looked at him, and her face softened, as if she felt guilty for being so terse. "Go. It's fine, really. You should all go and enjoy your lunch." She glanced at the papers on his desk. "You've earned it, it looks like you've kept busy."

The pride Havoc usually felt from her almost-compliments was dampened with shame. The kind of shame he used to feel when his kid sister would get in trouble with their mom even though Havoc played a part in whatever their mom was mad about. "Okay," he said quietly, as the rest of the soldiers stood up and awkwardly shuffled out the door.

"Hey."

Havoc's neck jerked up as he snapped out of staring at his food. Breda was watching him, a strange expression on his face.

"Yeah?"

"You still going after Hawkeye?"

'Going after ,' Havoc mused. Makes it sound like she's a perp.

"I'm building up to it," he confirmed warily. He wasn't about to mention this evening, because it still didn't count. Besides, Breda's expression made it clear that he wasn't asking just to make fun of him, but Havoc wasn't sure he liked the look on his face anyway. He looked like he was treading lightly on the subject, like he was trying to spare feelings in the process of whatever he wanted to say.

Breda sighed. "Listen, man, we're friends, right?"

"Sure."

"Okay, so if you're serious about this, I'll stand back. But I need to ask… Say it doesn't work out, for whatever reason. What happens then?"

Havoc shrugged. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. I'll never know until I ask."

"No, I mean what if she does agree to go out with you - which by the way I still can't see happening - and the relationship doesn't work. What then?"

He frowned, not quite comprehending the question. "I'll be honest man, I haven't thought that far ahead yet. I'm still working on the whole get-her-to-agree-to-go-out-with-me part."

Breda's mouth twitched. "Maybe you should think about that part. I've seen your breakups, you won't be able to just switch banks this time if something goes wrong."

Havoc paused. He did have a nasty habit of being melodramatic when his relationships didn't work out. But this was Hawkeye. They were friends. Nothing was going to go bad between him and Hawkeye.

Oh crap, what if something went bad between him and Hawkeye?

What if they had a fight? A real one, not like the bickering they sometimes did as part of what he hoped was mutual banter. Not like when she nagged, but he knew it was from a good place. Not like when he made inappropriate jokes but she knew he's a good guy. What if they argued over something serious and broke up? What if she never wanted to speak to him again?

They haven't talked properly in a long time, but they were still friends. They were just busy, was all. He treasured that friendship. She wasn't the most expressive person in the world but she was kind and she had his back and he loved seeing every moment where she would come out of her shell a little. She'd been pissed at him plenty of times, but could he handle it if she were actually mad at him?

"Shit."

Breda nodded. "I'm not trying to discourage you. Not this time. But just think about it."

Havoc, wanting to do anything to release the panic rising up in his chest, chuckled and waggled his eyebrows at Breda. "What if I only want a little fun?" The joke felt weird coming out of his mouth, but thankfully, Breda didn't look convinced as to the validity of it.

"I think that would hurt you more than her. Provided she'd ever let your dick near her."

Havoc winced. "Come on, man."

Breda held his hands up in mock-surrender. "You asked, I answered."

When they got back from lunch, Mustang still hadn't returned. Hawkeye hadn't seemed to have moved from her desk at all either. The stack of papers had slowly migrated page by page to the other side of her desk, and Havoc would bet that if he opened her bottom drawer, her lunch would be there, untouched.

Everyone returned to their work wordlessly. Hawkeye was upset, and while she didn't look like she would be taking it out on any of them, there was a silent agreement that slacking off was only appropriate when the right people were in the right mood. Otherwise, it was just disrespectful. (Hawkeye would say that slacking off was always disrespectful, but she would only say it when she was in the right mood).

Havoc felt like crap. Hawkeye was upset because Mustang was upset, Mustang was upset because he misunderstood a conversation between Havoc and Hawkeye, and Havoc had a chance to correct the misunderstanding but chose instead to just stand there smiling like an idiot. He was directly responsible for making Hawkeye sad and they hadn't even began dating yet!

He thought for a little longer about what would happen if they broke up, and eventually decided that he couldn't lose her. He knew deep down it wouldn't be the same as his other short-lived girlfriends. He would never avoid her. But even though they might have been able to work together still, he couldn't risk their friendship.

Still, it felt sucky to admit that the mints in his pockets were probably superfluous to requirement. I might actually love her , he thought despairingly. But 'might' was not a good enough reason to take any risks.

He decided that when Mustang got back, he'd have a private word and tell him that they were just hanging out as friends. He'd even say she rejected him, if that helped to make the guy happy. He'd walk out with his tail between his legs and suffer a few teasing remarks for a week before everything would go back to normal.

He snapped out of his reverie when the man himself walked in. He didn't look sour at all. In fact, Havoc would go as far as to say he looked delighted. Suddenly, Havoc's self-hate was replaced by an uneasy sense of anticipation.

"Everyone here?" Mustang said, scanning the room excitedly. "Good, good. Gather round!"

Everyone stood and moved around their desks, congregating in the middle of the room. Mustang rubbed his hands together as they assimilated, shifting from foot to foot excitedly.

"I have excellent news," he announced to the room, though the manic look in his eyes didn't garner the trust of his subordinates. He looked at each one of them, his eyes lingering on Havoc a moment longer than necessary before finally resting on Hawkeye.

"Everybody: say hello to our new First Lieutenant."

It took Havoc longer than he would like to admit to make the connection between Mustang's words and his outstretched arms, pointed toward Hawkeye.

Hawkeye looked just as surprised as the rest of the room. "Sir?"

Mustang laughed, as if he found her confusion endearing. "The paperwork will take a while to process, but by all other accounts, you've been promoted!"

Havoc had so many questions.

Wasn't he mad? Was this what he'd been doing this whole time? Was this his personal business with the General? Why was Hawkeye surprised? Didn't she know? How long had she been in line for promotion?

The swirling confusion suddenly blurred as Havoc's mind narrowed to a single thought:

That petty bastard .

Falman was the first to remember his place, and a timid clapping roused the rest of the officers from their confusion. A small chorus of unsure hands clapped arythmically. Hawkeye's surprised expression morphed into a blank stare, as if trying to save some face. Mustang beamed, clapping louder and more enthusiastically than everyone else.

"This calls for a celebration, don't you think? Everyone can leave an hour early! We'll all meet for some drinks tonight. Civilian clothing!"

Hawkeye looked at Havoc, then at Mustang.

"Tonight? Sir, I have plans tonight."

Mustang's smile faltered. "Oh."

There was an awkward silence as Hawkeye's eyes softened at Mustang's crestfallen expression. Havoc wanted to let the silence sit. The arrogant prick deserved to be rejected. Havoc wasn't even playing the game for Hawkeye's affection anymore, but it still felt good to get one over on his cocky boss.

But he saw the way Hawkeye looked at her boss, as if she were letting him down in some way. Her huge brown eyes glittered as she looked at him with a silent apology, and Havoc's heart clenched. He fiddled with the pack of mints in his pocket.

Fuck .

"Come on, Hawkeye," he said with a fake smile, unable to believe that he was actually going to be the bigger person in this whole thing. "Is whatever you're doing tonight really something you can't cancel? It'd be fun to spend the night out as a team, and you should celebrate."

Hawkeye turned her head towards him. He could see the corner of her mouth twitch in the smallest promise of a smile, and her eyes shone with a silent message: Thank you .

"I suppose I could reschedule," she said quietly.

Mustang's face lit up. "Excellent! Everybody back to work, we don't want to be held up this evening! The Millhouse Bar, five o'clock. First round's on me." With that, he practically skipped into his office. The team patted Hawkeye on the back and congratulated her, and she thanked them quietly.

Havoc gave her a big smile and an overly-enthusiastic congratulations, before excusing himself and walking into Mustang's office.

Mustang was already at his desk, concentrating on the papers in front of him. He didn't even look up. "Second Lieutenant."

"That was low, even for you," Havoc said, eyes narrowed.

Mustang continued signing papers. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Fast-tracking a promotion so she's my superior? Come on! I know you all like to make fun of me, but I didn't think you wanted me to stay single that bad."

Mustang finally looked up, his expression the epitome of nonchalance. "Hawkeye earned the promotion entirely on her own merit. She is a hard worker and that work deserves to be recognized."

Havoc wasn't about to try to argue with that. Hawkeye was the glue that held the team together. Mustang was clever and charming and ambitious, but it was Hawkeye who held the ladder steady while he climbed.

Havoc thought of telling Mustang that his whole scheme wasn't even necessary, that he had already decided against going for it with her. That the only thing Mustang foiled was two friends catching up over pie.

Instead, he sighed. "Whatever."

Mustang's serious expression broke for only a second as a victorious light twinkled behind his eyes before it disappeared again. "Is that all?"

"Sure." Havoc didn't have any fight left in him.

As it drew close to 4pm, everyone was twiddling their thumbs. They had all taken the 'finish early' aspect of the day to heart, so the paperwork was done in record time. Even Mustang had his work ready for filing early for the first time in...well, possibly ever.

When Hawkeye returned from sending off the day's work, Mustang beamed.

"Men, you're all dismissed. I'll be leaving shortly." Mustang turned to Havoc, a smug grin on his face. "I just need to get a couple of signatures from my Lieutenant first." Mustang didn't put any particular emphasis on any words, but Havoc could hear the echo of " my Lieutenant" ringing through his ears.

Mustang chuckled as she stood up to retrieve the papers. "Isn't this fun? Me asking you for signatures!" Hawkeye didn't seem to find it quite as novel. She took the papers from her superior officer wordlessly, bent over Falman's unoccupied desk for a hard surface to write on, and began scribbling.

Havoc tried to stop himself from looking when she bent over. He was already dispirited enough by the day's turn of events and he didn't need to be reminded of exactly what he managed to talk himself out of. After a few seconds, he broke. Looked. Cried internally.

When he got home that evening, he glared at the shirt and pants on the back of his bedroom door, as if they had betrayed him. He was just about ready to go for a shower when he heard the phone ring.

He didn't rush to pick it up, and even he had to admit that there was a bitterness to his tone when he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Jean?"

He frowned, not recognizing the feminine voice on the other end of the line.

"Who's asking?" he answered cautiously.

"This is Katelyn."

His eyes widened as his memory filled in the image of a brunette with killer legs and tanned skin. "The bartender?" How did she get his number? He hadn't gotten that far before Mustang swooped in.

"Yeah! Roy gave me your number earlier today," she explained, without having to be asked. "I was hoping I could cash in on that offer for a coffee sometime."

Havoc's mind reeled with confusion. Why would Mustang give her his number? He just spent two days trying to stop Havoc from scoring a date, what was his game now? Did he want to dangle a carrot in front of him, only to humiliate him later? Unless…

Unless he was never against Havoc having a date, but rather his particular choice of date.

Havoc shook the thought from his head before he could follow it up further. "That sounds great!" he said enthusiastically into the receiver.

He wasn't about to think himself out of another relationship this time.