#avoiding everything

and she delivered paperwork straight to the office, which was completely unnecessary.

Riza figured maybe she was hired specifically to deal with their team. Yet, however incorrectly appearances may portray the inner workings of a woman,

She was green, fresh out of the academy.

She was new and doe-eyed and did not appear quite so equipped to manage the paperwork onslaught and chaos consistently courtesy of the Mustang Unit.

Regardless, personally assigned or no, she didn't knock, and she wore her hair down, and the skirt and the red lipstick, and all five men in her office

gawked.

Riza always shifted in her seat, rolled her eyes, and hid behind a most suddenly interesting expense report, while Missy

brought the new day's stack right to the Colonel's desk., and, Roy Mustang, even with all his pomp and formality, gushed and smiled and called her

Missy.

Yes, Missy. Because, god forbid the men at Eastern actually refer to her as Sergeant Melissa Robbins.

Given, most every man at work did have enough respect to use her proper title when speaking with her directly.

Most every man that is.

She gushed and called the Colonel, "Roy." He dropped his pen, leaned back, stretched his arms behind his head, smirked and called her

"Missy. Good Morning."

All four men, in all four desks all pushed together in the middle of the room so overtly checked her out from head to toe,

just like every day a half hour before lunch for the longest week of Riza Hawkeye's life.

Daily, Fuery would turn away tomato red, Falman would clear his throat, Breda would grunt approvingly, then elbow Havoc who, at that point would be reliably blinded by hearts, and completely drowning in drool.

It was disgusting and conjured an awful headache for reasons Riza could never quite put her finger on.

Maybe it was just the week. For, every day that week, she waltzed in and gushed, "Roy" and he smirked, "Missy." every day,

Riza gritted through her teeth, and under her breath corrected him,

"Sergeant Robbins"

"Behind on mission coverage again, are we?" She waved her papers, and most overtly pushed the stack into her breasts. Riza hovered her pen above the same dotted line for what seemed like a good ten minutes.

Avoiding the train wreck, the abhorrent disastrous effect this woman had on Colonel Mustang's office its already appalling productivity.

"Awe, Missy," the Colonel spun his chair, "You're too cruel."

Riza glanced over and watched Jean Havoc grimace back into his deskwork. She watched him do this every day, for the whole week.

The battle was always over before it begun when it came to matters such as these.

In the fight for life long love, the Flame Alchemist always had his pick. He always won.

He always got the girl.

Riza always cinched her mouth into a frown. Poor Havoc. She could say she did what she did for him, said it all for her friend.

But, in all honestly, Riza Hawkeye was so still shamefully selfish. It was mortifying, but she was good.

She could keep her cover, like she had every day, all that week.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you can do?" "Well, Roy, maybe-" she gushed. Riza steeled and looked to her, beautiful brunette in all her tight skirt glory,

and for the first time that week, she didn't let Sergeant Robbins continue.

She cut her off like she disserved, for interrupting their work, for every other time that week Missy entertained the possibility of trading extended deadlines for candle light dinners.

"No," Riza said, ice, then looked to Mustang, "The Colonel must complete all his paperwork."

There was silence. Havoc snorted a laugh for whatever reason. "No exceptions, Sergeant Robbins."

Raised eyebrows, all across the room, a sigh from the Colonel, a quiet whistle from Breda,

and a top to bottom flick of the eyes, a signature hostile evaluation from a fellow female competitor.

Riza lifted her chin, and outstretched her arm for the forms. She wasn't simple. She would not be any woman's competitor.

"I suppose that's my cue,"

Sergeant Robbins muttered with a completely unsubtle touch of insubordination, reluctantly surrendering her free ticket to flirt shamelessly with Colonel Roy Mustang.

There was no way out. She was under orders. Riza had to admit pulling rank had never felt so satisfying.

She smiled politely, "Have a good day, Robbins."

Missy nodded as professionally as she could, "First Lieutenant." Of course, she proceeded to turn over her shoulder to Roy, and to the shamelessly love-struck men, wiggling her fingers goodbye.

It was done. It was over.

And, then it wasn't. Like always.

"She is So. Smoking. Hot." Havoc sighed every time she left, every day that week. Yet, it was this day, this Friday, that the five days of tension, the constant competition, became too much to ignore.

"She's out of your league, Havoc." Roy finally scoffed

Just like he had wanted to every day, for the entire week.

Once Roy finally caved, finally snapped, Fuery, Falman: They made a break for it.

Breda tilted his head, gathering his lunch, and shrugged, to his friend. He agreed.

Havoc gritted his teeth, leaned back into his chair, puffed his chest,

"Don't think I stand a chance, Boss?"

"In fact, I do not," Roy confirmed solidly and did the same, leaned back into his chair, puffed his chest, smirked.

Havoc crossed his arms and finished his thought, "Don't think I stand a chance against you."

Riza sighed, clenched her eyes closed, bracing for impact,

from what source she couldn't say.

Havoc waited for Roy to challenge him.

This day he came prepared, This day: Riza finally cut Missy off, Roy finally spoke his mind, and Jean had some semblance of a plan to fight.

So, he challenged the Colonel to deny that he didn't drool over Missy Robbins, fantasize about that skirt while he purposefully procrastinated

He challenged Roy to confirm something like that, in front of Riza Hawkeye.

It would be quite a destructive choice, that is, if any of Rebecca Catalina's theories were relatively correct.

But, Roy did not deny it. This day, he said it.

"Better yet, I know you don't."

Havoc looked to Riza, to Roy. Neither flinched.

Roy stared him down. Riza shuffled through the new stack.

Rebecca Catalina might have been relatively wrong. Havoc groaned. He truly was out of the running then.

Another potential love, lost to Roy Mustang.

"I'm a Colonel, Havoc." He laughed smugly, "Colonel trumps Second Lieutenant."

Havoc grumbled, but still did not intend to give up that long, lush, tuggable brunette hair, without a fight to the death metaphorically speaking.

He was desperate. He looked to Riza.

How unfortunate.

"Hawkeye."

She could say she did the following for Havoc. That, however, as mentioned before, was not entirely true.

But, she told herself this. She said the right thing, at the right time. She did it for Jean Havoc, right?

Right.

"Traditionally, power, position, success do greatly factor into a man's appeal."

"You mean how hot he is?"

Riza sighed, looked up only now, raising an eyebrow at the Second Lieutenant,

"Yes, if you must phrase it that way."

Roy, consequentially, smirked snidely in his big, dominate, intimidating, Colonel sized chair. Havoc whined,

"I thought you were my ally, Hawkeye!"

Riza signed a page, flipped it over. "I am simply telling the truth. Higher ranking officers usually have better results."

Roy then said so sure, "This is what I'm saying, Havoc. You have absolutely-" but Riza stuck held up a finger, "That is unless the officer of superior rank behaves like a complete ass."

Breda stopped at the doorway, salami stuffed in his mouth. Havoc barked out a victory laugh. Roy dropped his jaw, shot out of his seat. First shock,

then anger,

"Excuse me?"

Riza marked the date, flipped the page. "Personality, depth, kindness. Also significant factors."

"Meaning, Lieutenant?" Roy gritted his teeth. Riza signed on the final dotted line, flipped the page and sat up, lifting her chin, "Havoc stands quite the fighting chance, Sir."

She took a breath, sipped her cold tea, "Therefore, I would not be so arrogant, Colonel."

"But, I-I'm a selfless civil servant. I – I have a great personality!" Roy struggled. Havoc spoke over him, and Roy over him, and Havoc over Roy, and on and on.

"You know, Hawkeye, rebellion in a woman. Smoking. Hot. " "Hey," Roy accidently kind of growled, "You do not hit on Hawkeye."

"Why not? " Havoc flashed some rebellion of his own.

"Seems she's the only woman who isn't fooled by your whole thing. I might have a chance here!"

Riza just shook her head, stayed disengaged, straightened piles, files, placed them in order of urgency, stuck stickers for the Colonel, where to sign, where to initial.

She made it easy, She made herself busy.

She and Havoc: Seemed they were on the same page. She needed a plan. She convinced herself it was for Havoc. She lost her head.

She did it for Havoc.

"Let's get one thing straight." Roy resisted the urge to yell and scold, "If Robbins is out of your league, Hawkeye is out of your universe."

Havoc blanched. He shook his head, disbelief. Rebecca Catalina may have been relatively correct.

Perhaps he could succeed, perhaps he had a chance at love with Smokin' Hot Missy Robbins.

Riza picked up the stack, walked it to the Colonel's desk, calm, collected, ignoring the bickering, the testosterone.

"Actually, Chief-" "I'm a State Alchemist," the Colonel cut him off, like a child, desperate for approval. Struggling for the upper hand, "Skill factors in. Genius factors in,

Right, Lieutenant?"

Riza sighed, worn out for no more than a hot second, as she was shocked back awake, alert

when she placed the new packets so perfectly pristine in the middle of Roy's desk

she looked up and witnessed her Colonel actually pleading.

Riza huffed, glanced over her shoulder at Havoc. They waited. For validation and confidence, and self-worth.

She had just a sliver of pity for them both, and a delightful pretty piece of proof that she did, in fact, do this all for Havoc

and Missy Robbins and their beautiful

brunette, tight skirt future together.

The Lieutenant turned back to her desk, and spoke objectively, clinically,

for the most part,

"It is, Sir" she sighed, "but- seeing as you are both sufficiently intelligent,"

"It's an even race," Roy finished, sat back into his chair, not even challenging the fact that he was only just 'sufficiently intelligent.'

He gave up.

Riza nodded, fetching her coat, "Race is not the word I would use. But, the opportunity is equal, yes."

Riza slipped her arm through, and turned just in time to see Havoc, blue eyes wide, bolting out the door,

out to take his shot at Sergeant Missy Robbins, with the beautiful brunette hair and the tight skirt and the red lips

He wasted not a millisecond

Havoc ran before the Flame Alchemist could reach her, charm her, and convince her otherwise.

Riza did it for Havoc, she told herself. Gave him hope in love, even if it was in Missy, a woman who very possibly did not deserve a man like Jean.

She did it for Havoc.

Roy most surprisingly just stared up at the ceiling and muttered, "The fire from thin air thing. That doesn't help me?"

He snapped his head up. Riza stood in front of his desk, not too close, not too far, "That doesn't help me at all?"

Riza sighed, weary, worn down. He read it as disappointed.

Roy buried his face in his hands, elbows pinned onto his desk. holding what felt like his entire weight

"She's a brunette, Sir." "I know," he groaned.

He let out the deepest sigh, rigid and pained. Stress she hadn't seen in him for quite some time.

Riza bit her lip, tugged on her coat.

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant." the Colonel waved her away,

"Have a pleasant lunch."

Riza was so close, so almost out that door.

But, she had to do it for Havoc.

She threw Roy off Missy Robbins' scent for Havoc's sake, right? Right.

It wouldn't hurt to provide the situation just the slightest touch of insurance, Right?

Riza took a breath. Right.

She was doing it for Havoc, of course. Right?

Right.

"When we were young, Sir." Riza turned. She stepped forward, spoke up softly, candidly, "The fire from thin air – "

Roy looked up, lifted an eyebrow, "Yes?" Riza cleared her throat, gave the smallest, softest, reassuring smile.

"Appealing."

She was much closer to his desk than she previously thought.

and, Roy did try not to shoot to his feet, but even still he did, dashing his hopes of appearing nonchalant.

Instead, he leaned forward as far as he could on his desk,

toward her, to her, jaw dropped, appearing very 'chalant.'

"You mean you found me Smoking Hot."

Roy had to take a moment. He couldn't stop gaping, he couldn't stop grinning, all at once.

Riza Hawkeye just used the word appealing, admitted to a possibly more than former attraction to him, Roy Mustang.

And, now, she stood there. She stood there and did not correct him.

"Close your jaw, Sir" the Lieutenant deadpanned, "It was long ago. I was young and silly. I grew up."

Of course, the fire from thin air would turn a nation to ash, end a war in red hot hell, sun and sand.

But, for just a moment, Riza remembered a place resurrected a time when her father's apprentice, and his intelligence, his kindness, his dreams,

a time when Roy Mustang, the prodigy alchemist, hypnotized her.

She only saw, only remembered the good, when Roy grinned warmly, goofily, so damn charmingly,

I grew up.

"You did, did you?" "I did."

The Colonel smirked. The Lieutenant straightened.

"So, the fire from thin air thing," Roy challenged, "No longer appealing?"

Riza blinked, "I grew up." Roy nodded, unconvinced, "So it seems."

The Lieutenant just shook her head and rolled her eyes, not so successfully keeping her cover.

She walked briskly to the door, to her escape, and to her certain doom of regretting her decisions, her words,

perfectly chosen, perfectly time.

She would surely regret them every day for at least the next week.

even if it was all for Havoc, and only for Havov.

Even so, she was successful. She could take comfort in that, she supposed.

as she turned the knob, opened the door

The Colonel leaned back in his chair once more, stretched his arms behind his head,

and though he smirked, his voice held sincerity

"Don't you worry, Lieutenant."

Riza raised an eyebrow, prepared to fight off the blush she knew plotted to violently ambush her cheeks.

"Sergeant Robbins is brunette."

Roy shrugged, mindlessly picking up a form, flipping it without any intent on filling it out, now or later.

Not after she said something like that, one word doomed to distract him everyday, at least for the next week.

"Even when we were young," Roy smirked, sly, smug, even though his face too wore the faintest shade of red.

Riza gripped the doorknob until her fingers were white.

"Even then, I preferred a blonde."