A/N: Okay...first FMA fic! Whoo! I read a story the other day about Roy challenging Riza to actually shoot him, so this was inspired by that. Thanks, whoever wrote it! :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this fic, though I do claim responsibility for the "subliminal messaging" about smoking ;)

It was a normal day at Central headquarters—at least, as normal as it could be in Colonel Mustang's office.

As usual, Breda was in the corner, along with a somewhat forced-into-doing-this Fuery, plotting the latest mischief that could possibly happen with paper clips, telephone wires, and bumblebees. Falman sat at his desk, making an honest effort to actually get some work done, but was consistently finding the latest edition of Webster's Dictionary more appealing. Havoc sat in another corner, increasing his chance of getting mouth cancer (Smoking isn't good, kids! Don't do it!) and lamenting over his latest girlfriend crisis. As for the colonel himself, Mustang could not be seen behind the mountains of paperwork piled on his desk, but was presumably taking a nap after all the "work" he had done.

The door quietly opened and Hawkeye stepped in, closely followed by Black Hayate. Breda scurried to the highest safe place upon seeing the "vicious mutt," leaving a relieved Fuery eager to get his work done. Falman slid the dictionary under his desk where he believed Hawkeye couldn't see and continued reading. Havoc moved back to his seat and dejectedly rested his head on the table, still lining his lungs with disgusting tar from his cigarette. Audible snoring could be heard somewhere behind the paperwork Himalayas on a certain colonel's desk.

Sighing, Hawkeye's hand casually slipped to her pistol. Click.

The four men immediately sat bolt upright, hardly daring to breathe.

"Huh? What?" A revived Mustang slowly emerged. Seeing the pistol aimed at his forehead, he stood up quickly and walked to the front of his desk. "Uh, good morning, lieutenant!"

"Good morning, sir," Hawkeye replied politely. "Sir, you have ten seconds to start your work before something bad happens." She glanced at the clock and began counting. "One. Two."

"Yeah, about that," Mustang smirked. "You've been threatening us for awhile now, lieutenant. But I gotta ask: do you really have the guts to actually shoot us?"

Four pairs of eyes watched expectantly as a staring contest between Hawkeye and Mustang ensued. Finally, Hawkeye sighed, lowered her gun so it pointed at the colonel's foot, and squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!I'VE BEEN SHOT!" Mustang roared, hopping around on his good foot. "Darn it, Hawkeye, how could you!"

The four other soldiers had since retreated to the door, but Fuery blinked and adjusted his glasses. "Um, sir? Your foot isn't bleeding."

Mustang paused from his mad dance to take a look at his supposed injury. His foot was perfectly fine. The black leather of his boot shone, as if saying, "Don't worry! I'm just spiffy!"

Hawkeye allowed herself a small smile. "It was just a blank, colonel. You're right, sir, I wouldn't actually shoot any of you. Sure gives one heck of a scare, though, doesn't it?"

She sat down at her desk and started her work as if nothing had happened. Mustang stared at his lieutenant in disbelief, and then started laughing. "Ha, sure got me there, Hawkeye!" She chuckled along with the colonel.

Havoc wiggled the stick of doom in his mouth. "Let's get outta here. I think they both have a couple of screws loose."

The four inched slowly out the door. Behind them, they heard a loud moan after Hawkeye said, "The paperwork won't do itself, sir."

Black Hayate barked.

I know, not the best ending, but I didn't really know what else to do ^^` I don't know if Breda is OOC or not, because all I really know about him is that he hates dogs. So...review? Please? Good or bad, doesn't matter to me :D