A/N: Wheee! My second FMA story…The first was a shitty one-shot…yet I have high-hopes for this one! Please, don't read this if you're offended by cross-dressers/drag queens…. You'll get very, VERY offended.

And I know that the way I write this may very well be cliché, but please bear with me….IT'SMYFIRSTFULL-LENGTHFMASTORY! WHEEE! Because, even though I always wrote Teen Titans before…I'm starting to …not like it…as much…maybe when they show the new episodes, things will be different. BUT UNTIL THEN, ALL HAIL FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST AND ROYAI!

Did I mention that I got my mom hooked on FMA too? -smirks proudly-

Anyway. Enough rambling. I LIKE TO MOVE IT, MOVE IT! So let us begin.

x-x-x

The morning sunlight was bending and refracting through Roy Mustang's office windows, displaying a rainbow of sorts on his messy, oak desk. The owner of this desk, and office, sat slumped in his seat, his head resting on his arms, while being the source for muffled snores that wafted throughout the room. His slick black hair quickly heated up from the brutal sun shining upon it fully, yet….he still managed to slumber through the morning sunrise.

Though Roy was the only one in the office currently, footsteps began to echo closer, and closer, to the large, heavy doors of the room. Oblivious to the world, and to the sun, Roy slept on, drool trickling lethargically down the side of his chin. Oh, he knew that he would eventually have to awaken, and succumb to his First Lieutenant's threats if he didn't complete the stack of paperwork that was SURELY going to be awaiting him….but this moment…it was the official ROY moment…And if his eyes weren't shut, you could be positive that he would be staring at the clock, deciding on which moment to make the official Mustang Minute.

With a creak, the doors parted, revealing a tall, yet muscularly-built man, with spiky blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. He paused in the doorway, lowered his bag, and raised his hand to his mouth, preparing for a massive yawn. When the sign of his laziness had passed, he sauntered into the office casually, giving off an air of apathy. For sure, this was Lieutenant Jean Havoc.

Roy stirred in his sleep; the office doors weren't exactly the most silent, and his eyelids fluttered, trying to clench away the vibrant glow of sunlight. He caved, and his eyes fully opened, tired and the least bit pissed. They set on Havoc, who was smiling smugly at Roy, and narrowed.

"What are you smirking at, Havoc?" he demanded in a grumble, balling his hands into fists and furiously rubbing at his eyes. Havoc shrugged, and sat in his office desk chair, leaning back and resting his feet on the desk. He gave yet another yawn, and glanced at his superior.

"Nothing. It's just…" The smirk returned. "That's probably the 4th time this week that I found you sleeping at your desk. Can't be the most comfy place to sleep, am I right?"

"It is when you have to work late into the night."

"Oh, woe is you. And I guess the person behind all this would be-"

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," Roy cut him off, trying to suppress a yawn. Havoc groaned, empathizing with the Colonel's pain.

"And if she could see you now," Havoc began, stretching in his chair until he was the most comfortable that he was sure he could be, and continued on, "she would probably spaz and lecture you on-"

Again, Roy interrupted. "On how if this is how I plan to act, then I'll never become Fuhrer….Or if I do, I'll make a pretty lousy one."

"Exactly. So what do you plan on doing, chief?"

"Well," Roy said coyly, with a smile to match, "My fearsome lieutenant has her day off today, am I right?"

"Really? I thought it was-"

"I had it changed." He stood, letting his muscles contract and fully awaken, "I can't have my favorite little subordinate sniper be dreary all the time from dealing with little old me, can I?" He placed a hand on his chest, smiling mischievously at Havoc. Havoc lit a cigarette, placing it between his teeth.

"Nope. Guess not," he replied, scratching his head. "But Hawkeye's almost never dreary…"

"But even the most adequate flowers wilt."

"Ehh. And since when is SHE your favorite?"

"It was an expression, most like sarcasm, 2nd Lieutenant."

"Ahh. Right. 'Kay."

There were a few moments after where neither man spoke. Havoc broke the silence, and ventured on.

"What do you plan on doing today then, Colonel?"

Roy pressed his index finger to his chin, in thought. "I don't know….What should I plan on doing today then, Lieutenant?"

"Don't tell me you're going to take time off and get a date."

Roy's eyes fell upon Havoc, eyebrows raised. "Now that's pure brilliance, Jean."

"I beg for you not to call me that, sir."

"Whatever you say." Roy strode over to the coat rack, retrieving his long black trench coat, and spun around, flashing a smile that could make ladies MELT in want over in Havoc's direction. "I think that I'll do just that."

Havoc wilted visibly. "Do you know how many of my girlfriends you've stolen?"

"Havoc, I didn't 'steal' ANY of them!" Roy informed his subordinate, "They just came crawling to me, begging to be rescued from you."

Havoc scowled. "I bet you went up to them and just grabbed them."

"You mean like a rapist?"

"Perhaps, sir."

"You're calling me a RAPIST?"

"Well…the action would be like one of a rapist."

"And yet they willingly call out MY name in bed, and not yours?"

"Okay….I don't really need to be educated about the details," Havoc said, cringing. Roy pulled his coat close around his figure and peered out the window, watching the city begin to rouse.

"You know…I bet I could have ANY woman in the entire city…" Roy told Havoc, demonstrating by gesturing towards the large mass of houses, apartments, and business areas. His hand was open, and flat, until he snapped it into a fist, a sly smile spreading across his face.

Havoc reluctantly agreed with, "I don't doubt that, sir."

Roy lowered his fist, assuring himself. "Any…woman… Oh, I am SUCH a pimp!"

"Any woman," Havoc informed him, "…But Riza Hawkeye."

A cloak of silence fell upon them.

"…Hawkeye?" Roy turned, facing the lieutenant. "I could have Hawkeye!" he declared. When Roy was having one of his glory moments, puncturing it and deflating it could prove to be fatal to the perpetrator.

"I highly doubt that," Havoc sighed, yawning. He knew that he had caught the colonel's interest, and now he would stop at nothing to convince Havoc, and himself, that he could, in fact, woo Hawkeye.

"I'm everything she'd ever need!" Roy declared. "Brawn, looks, knowledge…"

"Ehh. You're not her type."

"And who are you to say such a thing?" Roy demanded sourly.

"Because I've gotten to know Riza more than you have," Havoc returned, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out. "She seems to like…the brainy….sweet…non-womanizing type of man…"

"…The only man like that that I can think of would be Fuery," Roy mused.

"Exactly."

"OhmyGod…You mean….?"

"No, no, NO! Riza wouldn't do a guy she WORKS with!" Havoc chuckled. "You nuts?"

"ANOTHER THING! My NUTS--"

"Too much information."

"Right."

"Yep."

"I could still woo her."

"How?"

"By BECOMING brainy, sweet, and non-womanizing."

Havoc roared with laughter. "You're shitting me."

"No…I'm not…Not kidding you, and definitely not shitting you."

"That would be a perversion of who you really ARE, Roy. Riza knows you. She knows that you'd never come around."

"I can SO come around."

"She wouldn't go past 1rst base with you."

"Wanna bet?"

"Naw. We may get found out…"

"Scaaared?"

"Yes, actually, for my job."

"Yeah well, worry not."

"I can't believe I've got you hooked on Hawkeye…I thought you'd despise the idea of even envisioning a make-out session with her," Havoc said, amused.

"Hawkeye IS a beautiful woman…" Roy said wistfully, almost as if he were daydreaming. Yet he was jolted out of his reverie, wearing a smirk. "And like all beautiful women, she has to be a good girl and let Roy Mustang take her on a date."

"And THEN screw her brains out and leave her lying in her bed, with nothing but memories of the experience," Havoc pointed out. "Riza can be sensitive when she wants. If you were to do that to her….Well…Let's just say it would ruin her."

"Ruin her? How so?"

"ALL of those women dream of marrying you. You're a COLONEL, so of COURSE they'd dream about it. But Riza has sworn to follow you until you become Fuhrer. She's like your guard-dog/mother hen. If you do that to her…She…she seems to…Grr. You don't get it, do you?"

"Nope. I don't think so."

"She's the type who'd want MORE from a relationship."

"Bondage? I can do that."

"..You imbecile. She'd want COMMITMENT."

Ahh. The one word that sounded like scratchy radio feedback to Roy's ears. Commitment. Like a broken record player, the word repeated itself in the colonel's head. Over…and over…and over again…

"C-Commit….ment…?" Roy stuttered weakly, eyes widening.

"Mm. Yep." Havoc rose from his chair, stretching. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to meet Mr. Coffee."

"Right…You do that…" Roy sat in his chair, crest-fallen and going over everything that Havoc had just said.

And a new goal etched itself in his mind.

He would date, and screw, 1rst Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

Even if it meant doing the most bizarre things possible.

He nodded, affirming this goal in his head. The rarest flower, any way, was always the most desirable. And Hawkeye was, indeed, a rare flower.

FFF

A/N: Not my longest chapter, but oh well. Dunno when the next chapter will come….But uh…

Next Chapter Preview: Roy approaches Havoc, and Hughes, for advice. He also devises a plan…but will it work?