Standard Disclaimer Stuff: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist, and wrote this purely for entertainment purposes and am making no profit from it.
Any reviews and/or critiques are appreciated!
Colonel Mustang sighed dramatically as he leaned back in his chair, eyeing the paperwork before him suspiciously. He was quite convinced that the stack of seemingly innocent paper was breeding; surely there wasn't that much paperwork for him to complete an hour ago. If he only stared at it long enough, he was sure to see another paper or two materialize on top of the others. His dark eyes narrowed as he contemplated the work before him, daring another document to appear.
After nearly ten minutes of constant surveillance and no change he reluctantly picked up his pen only to notice a few specks of dust on his desk. Well, he couldn't very well sign official documents on a dirty desktop. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and gave his desk and everything on it a thorough dusting. Feeling rather accomplished he gave the clock a quick glance and grimaced. His men would return from lunch break in less than five minutes and he did not relish the thought of appearing as though he had done nothing the entire time. He had opted to skip lunch specifically to finish his paperwork; or rather, had opted to not endure another of his 1st Lieutenant's lectures on his habits of procrastination. Something he seemed to be headed for anyway he realized with another sigh. Still, he could get at least a couple done before they returned.
Several minutes and two signed documentations later he heard the voice of Jean Havoc outside his door, "The flame throwing bit is impressive, but you can't deny her proficiency with a gun." The simple statement immediately caught the Colonel's attention as he realized that he was the topic of their current discussion, along with Lt. Hawkeye, judging by the gun comment. It sounded like a debate of some sort was going on, though over what, specifically, he couldn't imagine. He leaned forward slightly, trying to catch any replies.
"He's right," that was Fuery's voice. "She's saved him more than once during rainy missions."
"Useless," Havoc, Falman, and Breda all stated simultaneously. Mustang ground his teeth in vexation at their careless dismissal of his worth. His hands clenched into fists and nearly snapped the pen he was holding in half. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His own men, mocking him, and out in the hall where anyone could hear them! He was half tempted to burn the door and anyone behind it. Unconsciously he rubbed his thumb and index finger together slightly, letting a small spark fly.
"He wouldn't stand a cha -" Breda began, then abruptly stopped just as Mustang jumped to his feet, fists still clenched, knocking his chair over in the process. "Lt, ma'am!" Breda's voice announced slightly more loudly than necessary. There was a slight scuffling of feet from what Mustang assumed to be several hasty salutes, followed by Lt. Hawkeye's voice greeting the men outside his office.
A moment later the door opened and Hawkeye entered with Havoc, Falman, Breda, and Fuery a step behind. They all stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the Colonel standing rigid behind his desk, his chair toppled onto its side behind him. His right hand was raised before his chest in a fist, with a now broken pen dripping ink onto the floor. His left was resting on his desk, clutching tightly to a piece of paper. Hawkeye blinked, an eyebrow raising slightly as she took in the sight before her.
"Is something wrong, sir?" she asked, then noticing the paper he was mangling, added, "I trust that is not your paperwork you are destroying, sir."
"Just what, were you four discussing out there?" he asked, ignoring Hawkeye's remark, his voice dripping with venom. Lt. Hawkeye turned a curious eye to the men behind her who were doing their best to hide behind her with little luck. "Well?" he barked, quickly loosing patience.
"Falman started it!" Breda blurted out, giving the Sargent a push towards Mustang.
"Hey!!!" Falman protested as he fought to stay behind his 'cover'. "I was merely observing how the Colonel and Lieutenant make an efficient team! You're the one who started the remarks as to which would come out on top in a fight!" He pointed out defensively, his already narrow eyes nearly disappearing as he glared at Breda.
"That wasn't me! That was Havoc!" Breda shot back.
"What?" Havoc tried to feign an air of innocence about him while stealing a quick glance of entreaty to Lt. Hawkeye. She seemed to be unable to decide between annoyance at being used as a human shield, and the desire to know just what was going on. Seeing that he wasn't going to get any help from her direction Havoc followed the example given by Breda and Falman, and shifted the blame to someone else. "It was Fuery who said the Colonel wasn't any good in the rain!"
No one seemed to notice the small growl that emanated from Mustang's direction.
"I never said that!" he protested meekly from behind the still open door. "You guys were the ones to call him useless..." anything Fuery was going to say further was abruptly cut off as Mustang's temper, and fingers, finally snapped.
The resulting blaze snaked its way neatly around a shocked Hawkeye to skim past the heads of the four soldiers, cowering them into a stunned silence. Mustang tensed his fingers; his anger not quite spent; preparing to send another wave to his slightly less than loyal men when a single gunshot rang out. The feel of a bullet whizzing by mere inches from his face froze him in place, leaving him to stare in shock at his 1st Lieutenant. She stared at him over the barrel of her gun, a slight grimace on her face from the smell of burnt hair that now permeated the room, slowly being joined by the faint smell of gunpowder.
"Sorry, sir, but I cannot allow you to endanger the men in such a manner," her amber eyes wore the same cold hard expression as when she was apprehending a criminal.
It was quite clear to Mustang that she would not hesitate to fire a second time if he even considered calling up another spark, and the next shot likely would not miss. He hesitated a moment longer, looking for any sign that she would eventually give in and lower her weapon. Behind her his men were tense, not daring to move a muscle as they watched their battle of wills. Finally Mustang let out a chuckle and relaxed his hand.
"Keeping me in line, Lt.?" he asked in amusement as he righted his chair and casually sat down.
"Sir," she acknowledged with a curt nod of her head and stowed her gun.
Behind her Mustang swore he saw a quick transfer of money between Fuery and Falman. He blinked in astonishment. Did his men just bet on whether he would be shot? When did they even have time to make such a wager? He briefly wondered what his chances were of getting another fireball across the room and surviving. Better not to chance it, perhaps.
He returned his attention to his interrupted work as his men settled themselves into the room, resuming whatever task they had been involved in before lunch, and cursed to himself. The paper he had just finished filling out was horribly wrinkled and sported a small hole burned into one corner where a stray spark must have landed. He nearly felt like crying; this particular paper was for changes to the standard operating procedures of his command; changes he had fought for some time to acquire and were only just being approved. Only his signature had been needed to put them officially into effect; which, technically, it now had although he doubted his superiors would accept such a damaged paper.
Lt. Hawkeye came to the side of his desk and observed the paper for a short moment. Inwardly Mustang cringed as he felt her critical glare fall upon him and waited for the inevitable lecture. It didn't come, but then she really didn't have to say anything. Looking up at her he could see it all in her eyes. Annoyance, disappointment, and...was that amusement? That was the worst of all. He didn't think things very funny right now, especially with the rather large stack of unsigned documents sitting quietly before him, mocking him.
"Would you like me to request another copy, sir?" she asked.
Was she mad? Just how did she expect him to explain needing another copy? He gave her a small smirk, saying "No need." Reaching into a desk drawer he pulled out another pen and scribbled a quick transmutation circle onto the paper. With a flash he once again had a pristine paper, ready to be signed. Ready to be...damn it; he had forgotten about the signature in his effort to make sure he didn't alter the context of the document. He quickly signed it, hoping Hawkeye didn't notice his blunder. A glance in her direction proved she didn't; she was busy picking up the pen he had broken a moment before, frowning at the drips of ink scattered onto the floor.
"So, you were discussing which, of the two of us, was the better fighter?" Mustang asked as he endorsed another document, his voice unusually calm considering his reaction only moments before. The men all froze simultaneously and tensed, expecting a reprimand. Beside him, he heard an almost inaudible sigh escape Hawkeye's lips. Getting no response he continued, "Well? Who's the favorite?"
The four men stared at him in astonishment for several moments, none of them daring to respond. Mustang didn't look up to meet their gazes, but he could feel all eyes upon him. "You seemed to be favoring the Lieutenant, Havoc?" he had to hold back a laugh as Havoc sputtered a protest. "Do you wish to venture an opinion on the matter, Lt. Hawkeye?"
"Sir?"
"Perhaps a wager?" he persisted, starting to enjoy himself now that he had control over the conversation.
"I don't gamble, sir," she stated flatly, busying herself with collecting and organizing the small stack of completed paperwork.
"Not afraid of losing, are you?" He kept his head down, seemingly intent on his paperwork, black hair partially obscuring his eyes. His voice was misleadingly calm, as if he was commenting on daily trivialities, such as the weather. He smiled inwardly at his Lt.'s silence, and fought the urge to steal a glance at her face. Not so humble any more, eh Lieutenant?
"Surely you don't expect me to fight you, sir," she finally replied in an even, almost bored tone.
He gave no reply, he just continued to sign papers. So she wasn't going to rise to his bait that easily then. She had a point, however. He couldn't possibly strike against her, even in a friendly duel. Sure, he had dueled Fullmetal, but he was a fellow Alchemist. Riza, on the other hand, had no real way of defending against alchemy. She was far from defenseless, being one of the better, if not the best, shots in the military; but a gun couldn't stop flames. Not to mention that he really didn't feel up to being shot, even with a blank cartridge. He pondered this problem for several minutes, hardly paying any attention to the documents he was completing, before finally coming up with a solution. With a satisfied smile he placed the last paper on top of the pile of completed paperwork and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together.
"I think I can arrange something mutually acceptable. If you are up for a little target practice, that is?" His eyes glinted with mischief as he watched her organize the last of the papers, waiting for her response. He truly hoped she would accept the challenge. Not only would it be rather fun, but he had an overwhelming need to prove himself to his soldiers.
Hawkeye gave him a look that plainly said: I know what you're doing and I don't want any part of it. "I can go to the shooting range whenever I feel the need for some practice, sir."
"Static targets in a controlled environment," he dismissed the range with a careless wave of his hand. "Not very helpful in preparing one for actual combat." She said nothing, but he caught the slight twitch of her eyebrow and took it to mean that he had piqued her interest. "But if you truly are not interested I suppose you'll just have to make do with paper cut-outs."
"I suppose I will, sir," she said as she gathered up the documents and headed for the door to deliver them to their respective destinations. She gave Falman, Breda, Fuery, and Havoc a pointed look as she walked past them, causing them to frantically resume the tasks they had long since forgotten about. The door closed behind her with a soft click as she left the room, seemingly ending the conversation.
But Mustang had caught the slight stiffening of her spine and the burning curiosity in her eyes. A little more persistence on his part and he had no doubt she'd agree to the challenge. He'd have to be careful with her though; she'd quickly loose her temper if he pushed the issue too much. No, he'd have to be subtle about it; hinting at his idea enough so that she'd accept out of pure curiosity. Or just the desire to shut him up. Hell, either way worked for him.