FMA belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. I make no money by writing fanfiction.

Anniversary

Havoc leaned back, took a drag on his cigarette, and stared up at the sky. There had to be an answer, didn't all problems come with answers? He knew all about dating, he'd certainly done enough of it, but it had almost never gotten to the point where he'd needed to contemplate this particular issue. Even if it had, women were easy, they dropped hints about what would make them happy. And even if they didn't, there were guidelines you could fall back on. Hell, there was a list! He'd even found charts and tables that said how much money a guy should spend depending on how big his paycheck was. But that was all for girls. What the hell was a guy supposed to get his boyfriend for their anniversary?

Havoc stood and wandered over toward the shop-lined streets near the park bench he was sitting on. He'd always held hope for a first anniversary, had done the mental calculations: one hundred dollars on some piece of jewelry, most likely a bracelet, one hundred fifty dollars on dinner in a really nice restaurant, then the rest of the evening and however much money spent in whatever it was she liked, moving pictures, ballet, opera, whatever. All that planning, shot to hell, because Roy most definitely was not a woman.

He'd wondered for a while if he could get away with forgetting their anniversary, but Roy had told him that he'd made dinner reservations and the idea had been shot to hell, along with the easy out. Dinner was always the easy out.

Havoc sighed, staring into the windows of the stores. Jewelry wouldn't work; Roy wasn't the type to wear a wristwatch, not with his fancy pocket watch he was so proud of, and the idea of Colonel Mustang distracting from his distinctive gloves with a man's ring was absurd, dinner was already taken care of, and the idea of taking Roy to the opera, though Roy did like opera, was awkward to say the least. Havoc sighed and stubbed out his cigarette against the brick façade of a chocolate shop. Roy liked chocolates, had a secret stash of them in his desk at work, maybe that would work. But giving Roy chocolates just sounded stupid and wasn't nearly enough for the occasion. Chocolate were what you gave a girl on your one month anniversary.

Havoc leaned back against the storefront and pulled out another cigarette, groping in his pocket for his lighter and flicking it open and shut while he thought. Finally he flicked the little flame into life and lit his cigarette, then blinked and stared at the flame in his hand. He remembered a certain rainy day when Roy had stepped forward to barbecue a serial killer. Roy wouldn't be stupid enough to forget his own weaknesses, he must have been confident that he could strike a flame in the rain. His alchemy could probably handle it, so it was wet spark-gloves that would be the problem, and Roy had been in the car, and then had his hands in his pockets, so it made sense that he would have been able to roast scar if Hawkeye hadn't pushed him out of the way.

Havoc frowned at his lighter, that meant that if Roy's gloves got wet he'd be defenseless, and Havoc certainly didn't like that idea. Suddenly he knew exactly what to get for Roy.

-----

Havoc grinned happily at Roy over the candlelit, outdoor table-for-two. This really was a good restaurant, superb food, excellent service, live music, (and while swing certainly wasn't jazz, it was good). Roy's anniversary gift to him was dinner and an autographed Ella Fitzgerald phonograph record. Havoc was biding his time before giving Roy his gift. He waited until after dessert, after dancing, until they were walking through the park toward home.

"Hey, Roy," Havoc said, threading his fingers with the shorter man's, "I can't say anything for you, but I know I never thought I'd ever be this happy."

Roy smiled and leaned his head against Havoc's shoulder, "I can't say I did either." He murmured, looking up at the stars twinkling to life above them.

Havoc reached into his pocket and pulled out his gift, carefully wrapped in gold paper and tied with a red ribbon. He stopped, turned to face Roy, and held out the gift. "It's a present for rainy days." He said, grinning.

Roy took the small parcel from his hands and carefully untied the ribbon, unwrapped without tearing gold paper the little white box, then lifted the lid to reveal a silver cigarette lighter engraved with his distinctive array. The flame at the top of the circle had been inlaid with gold, and red enamel defined the salamander at the bottom. Roy stared up at him with wide eyes and open mouth, the hand holding the lighter shaking slightly.

Havoc scratched the back of his head nervously, "I hope the coloring and stuff doesn't make the array not work," he said, and Roy shook his head.

"It shouldn't make a difference," he said in an awe-struck voice.

"Go on, try it out," Havoc prodded eagerly. Roy nodded and flicked the lighter open, pausing as he saw the script inlaid on the inside of the cap, "I love you".

"Jean," he said weakly, and Havoc leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Go on, try it."

Roy held the lighter out, flicked the flame into life, concentrated for a moment, and then, fwoosh! Words of fire wrote themselves across the darkness of the park: I love Jean Havoc.