He raised his head to look at her, but Hawkeye knew that something was wrong.

The way that he was looking at her...

It wasn't right, as if he was being possessed. This wasn't like Roy Mustang.

"Sir?" She said uncertainly, backing away from the desk. Mustang nodded, that same predatory gleam in his eyes, the smirk on his lips. He slowly got up out of his chair, and then began to walk towards her quickly, as if she were going to try and escape. Hawkeye backed up further still, and reached for her gun. She wouldn't have shot him, but it would have been threatening enough to have the gun with her, in case she needed it. Her eyes darted down at her waist, her breath caught in her throat. My gun.

I left it back in the hall.

"Please, Colonel," She said, a little more aggressively. "Stop."

But he kept walking. He was too close now, reaching for her arm...

Hawkeye cursed and tore her wrist away from his grasp. He reached for it again, and she retaliated with a slap, but Mustang caught her wrist and clenched his strong hands over her shoulders, pushing her up against the wall.

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me..." The Colonel sang under his breath, his face only inches from hers.

Earlier that day

"Please, Lieutenant," Ed complained, still thrusting the box at her. "It's his birthday!"

She stood firm. "I told you, I'm not wearing that!"

Al sat in the corner or Lieutenant Hawkeye's office, Black Hayate in his lap. He raised his head to frown at them. "Brother," he said, "If she really, really, really doesn't want to wear it, she doesn't have to."

Ed sighed. "Just play with the puppy, Alphonse. Come on, Lieutenant, I'll even pay you, if I have to. Besides, it would look really good on you anyway, you've got really nice legs."

There was a soft click, and Ed looked up to see Hawkeye aiming a gun square at his forehead. "Would you like to tell me how you know what my legs look like, Fullmetal?" Her voice was soft, and dangerously calm, and more intimidating than Ed expected.

Ed froze, throwing his hands up in the air. "...I could guess?" he squeaked. The box had dropped to the floor. Hawkeye lowered the gun, and picked up the box.

"I'll try it on," She said hotly. "But it had better not be too small."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Ed breathed a sigh of relief. "We owe you one."

"I know." She glared at him as she dissappeared into the next room.

Several minutes passed, and a series bumping noises were heard coming from the other side of the door, followed by a torrent of some very colorful language. Suddenly, all fell silent. Ed and Al raised their heads in alarm. "Lieutenant?" Ed called out.

"There is NO WAY."

He straightened up. "Just come out and show us, it can't be that bad..."

She opened the door and poked her head out to narrow her eyes at him and shove out a thin white cardboard box and a mass of cerulean tissue paper, before slamming the door in their faces. "I might as well go and stand out on the street corner," She yelled, "I look like a fallen woman!" Her voice grated rough with self-pity and disgust.

Al looked over at the door in concern. He turned to his brother in confusion. "Should we go in and help her up?"

Ed turned red. "That's not what 'fallen woman' means, Alphonse. Listen, Lieutenant, at least show us, and if it's really, really bad, I promise that you won't have to wear it."

Hawkeye poked her head around the corner again. "Remember that you promised, Edward," She growled, before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

Ed and Al stared at her.

"Oh...my," Al said, looking away and wincing.

Ed laughed. "Alphonse, be serious."

"Shut up, you two," The Lieutenant snarled. "I'm going to go take this disaster off, now.."

"No, wait!" Ed said, stopping her. "Come and look at yourself in the mirror!"

She grumbled something about respect, modesty, and sadistic perverts, but did as she was told.

"Wow... You really do have nice legs," Ed snickered and dodged a slap from the female officer.

"Watch it, kid." She put her hand on her hip. "So?"

"So, you're wearing it."

"Yeah, Lieutenant, you look really, really good," Al nodded encouragingly.

Hawkeye pursed her lips and checked her reflection again. "Oh, fine," She spat, "I'll wear it, but hey, I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it because it's the Colonel's birthday, and you two won't leave me alone." And she left for a few moments to take it off, her mouth twisted into a half smirk, half grimace. The boys stared after her in disbelief.

It was done.

The impossible had happened.

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was wearing a miniskirt.