A/N: This was written a million years ago and posted on tumblr per an anon's request. But because I'm hella old, I forgot to post this on ffnet/ao3 :D

"Did you grab his spare gloves, too?" the brunette asked impatiently. "Top drawer and bottom drawer? What about the one in Riza's drawer?"

"I did, I swear!" the blonde First Lieutenant answered in exasperation. The cigarette in between his teeth latched onto his lips as he talked, a useless skill he managed to perfect within the last decade of his life. "I have them here in my pocket! See?"

"Good, good." The mischievous glint in her eyes sparkled like diamonds as her plans gradually came to fruition.

Rebecca Catalina was a force to be reckoned with, Jean Havoc decided, especially when it came to appeasing a nagging curiosity. As his fiddling hands reached the coarse alchemist gloves inside his pocket, the nervous man could easily discern the wicked aura around her. The calculating grin she donned and the cackle escaping her throat told the room of the excitement she found in all this.

Before she could hurl any more questions that would pop another vein on his temple, Havoc interjected smoothly, "Breda and Falman are in position. Once he leaves his meeting, they'll lead him to the break room. They even locked the door so no one else could use it. They're probably leading him there as we speak."

Rebecca hummed. "Make sure he doesn't reach into your pants pocket. Stay as far away from him as possible. Oh, wait. Where's Riza? Did Fuery take her to the shooting range? How long can that little guy hold her there?"

And of course, he had forgotten to give an update on the Captain's whereabouts. Catalina's endless questions rammed into him like a truck, which intensified the racing of his heart. He really didn't want to get a taste of the Flame Alchemist's inferno to begin with, let alone suffer the wrath of the Captain's unhuman shooting accuracy. But he also had obligations to his girlfriend. Unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa for god knows how long, he better listened to her. "Er… I think Fuery can handle it. Hayate's with him, too. Both of them will give us at least 30 minutes."

Finding his answer satisfactory, she responded, "Fine. Let's do it."

As they entered the coffee-scented room, everything had been arranged. A pair of handcuffs locked onto each arm rest. It was the scheming woman's preferred method for preventing their General from performing alchemy. Havoc had heard a rumor that his superior officer no longer needed his gloves to burn their sorry asses, but hey, no one could blame a man for wanting to employ all safety precautions.

At the ding of the coffeemaker, entered the General, clueless and mustache-less. The man looked like he aged 10 years younger without the abomination - it was truly a wonderful reprieve for their calculating eyes. Like obedient soldiers, the stocky First Lieutenant and lanky Second Lieutenant trailed perfectly one step behind to each side. What General Roy Mustang didn't expect, however, was that his junior officers were in advantageous positions to drag his unsuspecting ass to the little torture chamber they set up.

Without warning, familiar arms larger and longer than his own coiled tightly around his frame, and they hauled his thrashing body with all the strength they could muster. Mustang screamed like a petulant child as they cuffed his wrists to the wooden chair, "Aaaahh! What are you guys doing?! What the hell is this?!" They could see shock in his eyes, forming his cocked brows and gaping mouth.

Falman donned the most apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, sir… the First Lieutenant promised to-"

Mustang threatened vehemently, "Don't you know I can burn you all with a snap of my fingers?!"

"We do, sir. That's why we handcuffed you," Breda snickered. He was more amused than anything.

Like a mob boss, the female First Lieutenant stepped in with an intimidating stance, her male goons crowding behind her. A wooden stick that seemed to magically appear out of nowhere was in her hand, and she tapped her palm with the object menacingly.

Mustang's voice cracked, mimicking the scary woman's knuckles, "Ca-Catalina, what is the meaning of this?!"

"General. Spill. How did it happen?"

"No!"

"How did it happen?! Out with it!"

"Never!"

"Say it!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, challenging the hostile woman. "Or what?"

"Or I'm going to tell everyone here what you did to Riza's skirts when you lived as her father's apprentice."

Havoc interrupted curiously, a sideway glance judging his superior, "Wait, what did he do to the Captain's skirt?"

"Plural. I said skirts."

Mustang yanked his wrists from the arm rests. When he was unsuccessful, he squirmed like a worm too fat to escape its dirthole. "No, no, no!"

Catalina replied smoothly, "Let's just say the General's obsession with mini skirts is... primordial." She turned to face the man sitting sweat-drenched, flashing him a knowing smirk. "And if I remember correctly, Fuhrer Grumman hasn't got a clue as to your little mischief, General. I'm sure such a doting grandfather would love to hear all about his granddaughter's childhood trauma..."

Mustang looked like he was about to cry. Why did she have to bring up such delicate memory? And she had to make it sound like he was a serial creeper, too. His fuhrership would definitely disappear in a puff of smoke if the old man found out. So would his dignity. How the hell did she even know about this? "Fine, fine! You win!"

"Start from the beginning. I want details."

"Okay, so Ri-the Captain and I were… you know… uh."

Rebecca shot him a knowing glare, pressing the poor man further as she mouthed Riza's name and traced a picture of a triangular skirt in the air.

Roy's gaze was downcast as he spoke, "Um, the Captain and I… we sort of kissed a little…"

He looked up at Catalina's intrigued appearance. There was something strange about it, but he chucked it to his irrational fear of them finding out he had burned the bottom half of young Riza's skirts as target practice for alchemy. Some were so short she had to toss them (she actually threw them all out). But Riza always did have nice thighs, and teenage Roy wanted to see more of them. He resumed, "Okay well, maybe we did more than kiss... I kind of rubbed her back and her arms and her legs with my hands. Oh god, her skin was so soft. And then she cupped my cheeks gently, you know, like I'm the only man in the world for her. And then we nipped on each other's lips a little bit before our mouths ventured elsewhere… And then the rug got so damn hot we had to move to the bed."

Breda and Havoc threw each other an incredulous look. They definitely did not expect to hear such honesty from the General. Not that they weren't suspecting anything between the two to begin with. But what was pitiful was the fact that they weren't fishing for this information. Mustang totally misinterpreted their intended question.

Mustang continued with a mesmerized look, "You know that feeling in your stomach? Like butterflies fluttering? I felt that the whole night. And then... it only got worse when we both took each other's shirts off! Oh man, I still can't get over how soft she was all over. And then we kissed some more, not just the lips if you get what I mean. Heh. And everything else that happened after that is private. Sorry, Catalina. She's an amazing woman I'm sure you all know, but that's all I can say. She'll kill me if I tell you more than this..."

Disbelief crossed her features. Her nose flared from surprise, her eyes lit up like fireworks, her mouth dried like the sahara. Holy shit. Did Roy Mustang, future Fuhrer, just admit he had sex with his Captain in front of his subordinates? Not that she hadn't suspected their feelings for each other, but to hear a decade old rumor clarified in the blink of an eye? Totally unexpected. If it were this easy, she would have done this years ago!

Falman though. Loyal, pure-hearted Falman. He just had to go and spill the fun. "Sir… um... we brought you here so you could tell us how the Captain made you shave your mustache… I don't think Lieutenant Catalina meant to ask what you and the Captain were doing…"

Mustang's jaw hung low like a Christmas ornament. Oh. My. Fucking. God. And when he thought he couldn't do anymore dumb shit today like being caught doing the walk of shame from his captain's apartment by the same lowly officer from last night. As Flame Alchemist, he was able to threaten that guy into submission, but these people? He just handed them another piece of information to blackmail him with!

The churning in his stomach worsened - it felt like the stew he had for lunch was being stirred violently, splashing the broth all over. And then his tongue was coated with a sour taste when he studied his team's sly expression. He dug his own grave today, Roy knew. Riza would absolutely kill him if she found out how he had stupidly assumed their intent. Since his secret was out, he might as well propose to her, right? After all, he'd had the ring cleverly concealed in his drawer for however long now. So after all the wrong he had done today, that seemed to be like the only thing he could do right.