Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Fullmetal Alchemist, though it would be highly awesome if I did.

A/N: Yo! I'm Nite, and it is very nice to meet you! This is going to be a fic centering around Mustang and Hawkeye, but there's gonna be a bunch of other characters too, including Ed, Al, and some of the Homunculi.

Enjoy!

Downtown Central, 21:14

Colonel Roy Mustang dug his hands further into his pockets. The acrid burning smell of the street lights was settling in his throat. He coughed into a clenched fist. This was all he needed, to smell like cheap electric lights.

He turned a street corner, finding himself in the familiar noise and bustle of Central's nightlife. Light poured out onto the sidewalk, fighting its way out of the dozens of questionable establishments. Mustang passed a couple of prostitutes on the side of the road, avoiding eye contact. He wasn't dressed in his uniform, so he was fare game to them. They saw an attractive man in his upper twenties, not a renowned army Colonel and war hero.

This was the fastest route to the center of town, and he was already late. He wouldn't have even admitted it at gunpoint, but he had spent a lot of time dithering in front of the mirror about what he was going to wear. It pissed him off that he was so worried about this; they were just two friends out for coffee, after all…

Mustang groaned internally. How many times had he laughed at his military buddies for claiming the girls they were dating were just 'friends'? It was the first indication that he was losing his edge. Was he getting old?

Now that was a frightening thought.

Still, who needed an edge, really? Hawkeye was liable to shoot him in the face for being late either way. He knew his suave and sexy act wouldn't work on her, she knew him too well. But was he just supposed to act like he did in the office?

I'm beginning to understand why co-worker relationships are frowned upon.

Honestly, he had no idea why he'd asked her out anyway.

Sighing, Mustang turned onto a narrow side street.

….

Two figures watched from a rooftop as the dark-haired man turned into the alley. Jire laughed softly to himself. What an idiot, going off alone in a place like this!

"That's him," he muttered.

"Are you sure?" the girl at his shoulder asked. "He's kind of sexy. He doesn't look military ta me."

Jire rolled his eyes. Clax was relatively new at this. Sure, the guy wasn't dressed in a military uniform, but it was very easy to tell he was in the money. His brown leather jacket and dark pants were worn and kind of threadbare, but they were high quality shit. Besides, he'd recognize that face anywhere.

"Colonel Roy Mustang," he said through gritted teeth. "That's definitely him."

"This should be good," Clax giggled, clamping her knife in her teeth and making a move to the edge of the roof. Jire grabbed her elbow.

"Slow down, dumbass. Do you wanna get blasted the fuck apart?" He dug around in one of the many pockets covering the cargo pants he wore, pulling out a small black stone wrapped in some kind of fibrous plant. "I'll go first."

Jire waited until the Colonel was directly below him. He jumped off the roof, landing soundlessly a few feet behind. Or at least, he thought he'd been soundless. The Colonel was still walking, but one of his hands strayed to his coat pocket. Most of Jire's targets would pull a gun at this point, but he knew this one would break out something much different.

"You know, it takes a great moron among men to sneak up on a state alchemist." Mustang spun around, snapping the finger of his right hand. At the sight of that face, icy fear took hold of Jire, but he swallowed it, thrusting the stone out in front of him. The cocky expression on the Colonel's face quickly became one of unease. He snapped his finger again, igniting a tiny spark against the blackness of the night. That was working fine, but try as he might he could seem to make the flame catch. No, the gloves weren't malfunctioning.

He was.

"Awww, are you broken, Colonel?" Jire taunted, brushing his fair hair off his sweaty forehead.

Mustang just smiled, reaching for his gun. "Okay, kid, I don't know what you—

He was cut off by the flat of a blade smashing into the side of his head. He swayed on the spot, slowly crumpling down onto the cracked pavement. Clax giggled again, sheathing her knife.

"He's even cuter when he's unconscious."

….

Java Java Café, 21: 35

This whole situation was beginning to grate on Hawkeye's nerves. Here she was in some little coffee bar in the middle of Central sitting at a table for two, by herself. She'd already been hit on twice and her perpetually thin patience was wearing even thinner

She hadn't actually believed it when the Colonel had asked her out. It had been this morning at headquarters. Mustang had been sitting at his desk filling out reports, as inefficiently as usual. He'd looked up to where Hawkeye was standing staring out the window.

"Hey, 1st Lieutenant."

She'd straightened up. "Sir."

"How do you feel about coffee?"

"Sir?"

Mustang had set down his pen. "I asked how you feel about coffee. Answer the question, Lieutenant."

Hawkeye had wondered if this was supposed to be some kind of code. "I, uh, like coffee, sir."

"Good. Then how about getting some with me tonight?"

"Very funny, sir."

"I'm being serious Lieutenant. Do you see a smile on my face?"

He had a point there. He definitely hadn't been smiling.

So Hawkeye had agreed to have coffee with him, more out of shock than anything else. What the hell had he been thinking?

Did he suddenly look up and realize I was a female or is he just bored?

Whatever the case, he was over twenty minutes late and she was worried. Had something happened to him along the way? The thought that he had stood her up didn't even cross her mind. He wasn't that kind of guy, and besides, he knew if he did she would shoot him in the face next time she saw him at the office.

Running her fingers through her loose hair, she leaned her elbows on the wooden counter. As much as it bothered her to admit it, she had been looking forward to this, looking forward to seeing Roy outside of military command. Hawkeye was the best when it came to controlling her emotions, but even she would have to be blind not to see what an attractive man the Colonel was. And she had been serving under him for too long not to have an emotional attachment.

Glancing at her watch one last time, she stood up. Leaving money for the coffee on the counter, she left the little shop. Part of her wanted to just go home and go to sleep, while the other half was ready to make as many phone calls as it took to track the guy down.

She already knew which half would win.