A/N:

Disclaimer - I have nothing to do with the copyright/s for Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its affiliates, nor am I planning to make monetary profit from posting this.

Warnings - alcohol and a couple of curse words.


The first thing Mustang did after he was free from the hospital was shake off his tail - because when it came to Roy Mustang these days, he always had a tail - find the nearest seedy bar, and get himself utterly, shamelessly shit-faced.

And then he got into a bar fight. And won, of course.

"You look gorgeous tonight," Mustang mumbled, pausing just long enough to add "Lieutenant" as if it was an afterthought.

"Thank you, Colonel," Hawkeye replied dryly. She still wore bandages around her neck, so the sight of her assisting Mustang down the street, with his shambling walk and disheveled uniform, attracted a number of curious looks - but no more than that, luckily.

Mustang, his arm around her shoulders, turned her around and kissed her in one fluid motion, sending a jolt of surprise through her. His lips tasted of cheap beer and blood, probably from the bar fight. "Brigadier General," he corrected with a slight slur as he drew back, like the kiss hadn't happened. "I made your grandfather promise."

"You're drunk," Hawkeye stated, smiling in slightly baffled amusement. Roy didn't usually show affection quite as… overt as that, despite his reputation; the military didn't kindly look upon romantic relations between an officer and her direct superior. But she would be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy it on some level. "And you're not a brigadier general yet, Colonel," she added. "Slow your horses."

"I don't have any horses," Mustang said with hesitation, as if puzzled.

Hawkeye let out a soft snort, shaking her head.

"Also…" Mustang leaned in as if he was about to kiss her again, but instead murmured, "I started the bar fight on purpose. But if anyone asks, Lieutenant, I was drunk out of my mind and don't remember anything." His breath smelled of alcohol about as much as his kiss had tasted.

Hawkeye raised her eyebrows in graceful skepticism.

"I was completely blind only yesterday, Riza," he said lightly, his face still an inch from hers as they kept walking. "Give me a break."

She studied his eyes for a moment - remembering their once blank, sightless depths - before suppressing a shiver and finally looking away from Mustang entirely. His persistent face-to-face proximity was beginning to unnerve her. What was with his recklessness tonight? Not even drunkenness could possibly be an excuse. "You're lucky you picked that bar, Colonel," Hawkeye remarked quietly. "No one in there will be reporting your fight to the local constabulary because of your uniform."

Mustang sighed wistfully. "Not even going to let me stare into your eyes longer?" he murmured.

Hawkeye nearly smiled at his playful tone, if slightly blurred from the alcohol, but then she had to restrain herself from twitching in surprise at the peculiar sensation of Mustang resting his head against her own. It would've been the most surreal, direct moment of the night if some of his hair hadn't been soaked with what smelled like whisky.

"I never thought I'd see them again, you know," he whispered. A streetlight they passed glinted off his eyes, almost making them look blind again. "Your eyes, your face. I thought they were lost to me forever. If there's a god up there, I'm grateful to Him for Dr. Marcoh."

Hawkeye smiled, but his words also kept it from completely reaching her eyes. "I don't know who you think you're fooling," she murmured after a moment, briefly squeezing his shoulders as they kept walking. "You're definitely drunk."


A/N:

Happy 3rd of October! owo Unfortunately, all I had was this drabble I wrote just a week after watching through Brotherhood for the first time - and I didn't want to half-*ss anything for today - so I'm a bit disappointed with myself. (': But thank you for reading.