Howdy, y'all, and welcome. This AU has been sitting in the back of my mind for quite some time, but my longing for the city and the fact that they've finally put Friends on netflix brought it to paper (or the word processor, I suppose). Despite what my sister would have you believe, this is not an FMA Friends AU, but is admittedly a bit inspired by it.

Shout out to said sister, Technicolor Ink, for betaing this and being my eternal emotional support.

Gazing out the dusty window of the taxi cab—the vehicle was much less romantic than portrayed in her mother's Audrey Hepburn movies, she found—Riza Hawkeye realized that the enormity of Los Angeles was unlike anything she could have imagined.

She had seen cities second hand from movies and newspapers, but they were nothing like the real experience. From what she could see from the cramped car, the city stretched on forever, an endless mass of buildings all taller than any tree in the forest. Though it was nighttime, the entire city was illuminated by headlights and streetlamps and open windows. Trying to twist herself so she could see the sky from the car window, she wondered if it was even possible to see the stars with so much brightness.

More than anything, she was unprepared for the crowds. There had to be more people on the street they were driving on than her entire town's population. Despite the fact that the sun had already gone down, everyone was still out. The claustrophobia made her heart pounded painfully against her chest as fear bubbled in her stomach.

No, she thought, catching a sight of her pale, underfed completion in the rear view mirror of the taxi. This is nothing like an Audrey Hepburn movie

"Never been to the city before?" asked the driver.

"Never." A wave of self-consciousness swept over her and she worried she might have said the Audrey Hepburn comment aloud. "How can you tell?"

"You have that look of wonder. Don't worry, it fades away quickly."

She nodded, though she wasn't sure she agreed; she wasn't sure she could ever get used to this.

For not the first time that day, she considered turning back, fleeing to the to the empty house she hadn't yet sold in case things went south and she needed a place to return. Originally, the ad in the paper for a sixth housemate in the city had seemed like her saving grace, but now she was beginning to question herself. A small town girl moving to an unfamiliar city was a problem in itself, but moving in with five strange boys was foolish at best and dangerous at worst. For all she knew, they were drug dealers, serial killers, or worse.

Seventeen, orphaned and moving in with a group of strangers, she thought, resting her head against the window. Riza Hawkeye, what have you gotten yourself into?

Bravery—or perhaps desperation; she wasn't sure—kept her from begging the taxi driver to turn around. Taking her umpteenth deep breath that day, she let the pretty lights hypnotize her as they passed.

After another twenty minutes of driving, the taxi pulled over in front of a line of tall, narrow houses, all squished together, old, and nearly identical except for their color.

"This is Central Lane," said the driver. "Your address is the blue one."

"Thanks."

The sight of the place brought an uncomfortable feeling of realness to the situation. With shaking hands, she fumbled with the cash in her pocket for an awkward amount of time before handing it over to the driver. Desperate to get meeting her housemates over with, she quickly dragged her bags out of the backseat and the taxi driver sped off, leaving her alone in front of her new house.

Gathering all the will power she had, she fought against her urge to vomit, pulled her two suitcases up to the door, and knocked. The door opened with a creak to reveal a stocky, redheaded man, whose charming smile put her a little more at ease.

"Heymans Breda," he said, sticking his hand out to her. "But we all go by last names here, so just Breda is fine. I'm guessing you're…?"

"Riza Hawkeye," she said, taking his hand and shaking it. "It's nice to meet you."

"Let's get you inside," he said, before peeking back through the door. "Hey, Havoc! C'mere!"

A tall blonde with a cigarette in his hand appeared a moment later.

"You the new roomie?" he asked.

"I'm—" She almost introduced herself as "Riza," but she remembered Breda's bit about last names. "Hawkeye."

Havoc," he said, and they shook hands too. "Get here alright?"

"The city is very big," she said and then cursed herself for sounding so stupid. Damn her nerves. However, Havoc just grinned.

"You're from a small town, too, yeah? The city's not so bad when you get used to it."

"Grab her other bag for me," said Breda, clasping the handle of her first suitcase.

"You don't have to—" she began, but Havoc waived it off.

"Don't worry about it. No offence, but you look exhausted."

"Why is everyone at the front door?" asked another voice, from inside the house.

"Hawkeye's here," said Breda, hoisting the bag into the doorframe.

A bespectacled guy a few inches shorter than Riza appeared behind Havoc.

"Hawkeye, Fuery," said Havoc, throwing his arm around Fuery's shoulder as he introduced him. "And vice versa."

"Hello." He seemed much less extroverted than the other two, which she found a relief. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Show her around the house," said Breda. "We're going to take her stuff upstairs."

After the taller boys had lugged her bags into the house, Fuery waved her in. Immediately inside the doorway was a long, slender hallway with stairs at the end and a doorway on both sides.

"Did you have a good trip?" he asked politely, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, thank you."

"In here—" He lead her through the doorway on the right. "—is the kitchen."

It was thin but long, quite like the hallway. On the right end sat an oak table with six unmatching chairs situated around it and on the left dwelled the cooking utensils. Despite its crowdedness, it was relatively clean and appeared usable, which was all she could ask for.

"We normally buy communal groceries and split the bill, but you can choose to do whatever you want. Through there—" He pointed to the door on the left wall, by the oven. "—is what used to be a pantry, but is now where the washer and dryer are."

"How did you fit a washer and dryer into a pantry?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"We removed the shelves and stacked them on top of each other." He blushed a bit. "And, um, did some rewiring. You have to use a ladder to put your stuff in the washing machine and it can get a bit noisy, but it works."

Riza was tempted to ask to see it but decided against it, not sure that she had enough energy to handle any terrifying surprises.

He took her back into the hallway and then through the door on the left, into a living room slightly larger than the kitchen. There was a couch and a few chairs scattered around a semicircular coffee table, and like the furniture in the kitchen, absolutely nothing matched. Books were thrown everywhere, along with pens, various knickknacks, and a couple of cans, and the walls looked like someone had tried to repaint them several times but had given up halfway through. The television was loudly blaring an old sitcom to no one in particular, and even though it was pure chaos, Riza thought it was brilliant. It wasn't lonely.

"The second and third floors both have three bedrooms. Breda, Falman—he's the one you talked to on the phone, right?—and Havoc are on the second floor, and you, me, and Mustang are on the top. I think Mustang is sleeping at the moment, and Falman is at a lecture. A guy named Hughes used to have your bedroom, but he just got married and lives with his wife uptown. He pops in a lot, though, so you'll probably meet him soon."

Riza nodded, though she was beginning to feel overwhelmed. "Do I need to sign something?"

"Someone is going to take you to see Madame Christmas tomorrow. She's Mustang's aunt and the lady we rent the place from. Well, she rents it from someone else." He flushed again. "It gets confusing, but the guy she rents it from doesn't really care what we do with the place, so we don't really question it. It's home."

Home, she thought, experimentally testing the word in her mind.

Though living jobless and friendless in a strange, little house in the city hadn't been her childhood dream, childhood Riza was dead and gone. The Riza that remained only cared about survival, and though her current situation was nothing like childhood Riza's Audrey Hepburn movies, perhaps the dramatic move and the homestead full of strangers would be healthy for her.

If nothing else, maybe she could at least get a good night of sleep.

And that's that! Sorry, the first chapter is a bit on the depressing side, but things will look up soon. Riza's just got to open up first. Thanks for reading, and please review!