This whole fic is a result of my boredom and insisting that my friend Krishi give me a prompt for a story. Seeing as her OTP is Roy/Havoc, I offered to write it again for her. Her prompt was, "Havoc kisses somebody at a party and finds out that it's Roy." To be honest, I don't think I worked well with the prompt, but I hope she enjoys it anyway.

He figured it would be a nice stress reliever. Go to a party, chat, flirt, do whatever. Maybe even pick up a girl at the end of the night. After all, he'd been working too much lately- been a bit too focused on his paperwork and not enough on… well, everything else. It was Riza who had suggested it- well, she hadn't suggested what he'd had in mind at the time, certainly- but she had lightly hinted that he seemed distracted lately. When Havoc had asked her what she meant, she stared at him a moment, gave a meaningful look towards the growing pile of cigarettes in his ashtray, and said, "It's fine to relax… once in a while. Don't you think?"

Needless to say, that was a shocking enough remark to be heard from Lieutenant alone. The thought of her outwardly suggesting a… ahem, "social gathering" like this would be way too damn Twilight Zone for his tastes. But now that he was here, Havoc almost wished that she had outright said, "Havoc, you should go to a party at a bar and possibly get laid. That'll relieve your stress."

That would have been enough to turn him off to the idea. But it would have also frightened him quite a bit, so it's just as well she didn't.

So now he stood in a smoke-filled bar, rented out by (Who was it? A friend of a friend, maybe? He couldn't recall who had invited him) some one or another, leaning against the countertop of the bar, trying to drown out the noise (It had to be said- whoever was hosting this party had a damn crappy taste in music) and biting on the end of his cigarette. He didn't even need to light it- there was enough cigarette smoke in the room as it were. The second-hand smoke would keep him mellow for weeks. He could just make out the nicotine fog in the dark room, the low lights and the however many guests rendering him practically blind.

Part of him just wanted to leave, but he was here and might as well stick it out until half of the party got drunk or left to hook up with some girl or guy they barely knew. Part of Havoc's mind acknowledged that he was already at that point, but a much more childish part of him begrudgingly insisted that he had already gotten used to the deafening noise in the room, so he was staying.

The end of his cigarette was beginning to get soggy in his mouth. The damp paper and ashes were bitter and tasted absolutely terrible, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Havoc fingered around the glass of the beer he'd ordered what must have been an hour ago. It was still almost full. By this time the booze would have been completely flat. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth with his free hand, twirling it between his fingers. Havoc tried not to grimace when his lips met alcohol- completely stale. He put the cigarette in between his teeth, a much tastier way to occupy his mouth. Havoc closed his eyes, stood straight up from the bar stool, and turned to leave.

"Hey."

Havoc didn't bother to look back. There were too many people there to assume the voice was addressing him, and so he kept walking. He was almost near the door when he heard the voice again.

"Hey. Did you hear me?"

Havoc turned, only to make out a faint silhouette of a figure a few feet away, sitting on the bar stool where he stood before. He hadn't noticed them there at the time. Then again, he hadn't cared to call anybody out that night.

He gave a stiff smile, trying to gauge his mystery offer's sincerity. He wouldn't doubt some one would be twisted enough to mess with him like this. It'd happened before. Leaning back over to meet their eyes, Havoc found cynicism harder and harder to maintain. "Yeah, I heard you," he murmured. Maybe he'd get lucky tonight after all.

"A guy like you, coming alone… What a pity." Such a deep, velvet voice, rolling over him like the darkest and most decadent chocolate. Somewhere in the back of his mind a bell rung- he'd heard it before, he knew he had- but the rest of his mind didn't seem to care. To be completely sober and still feel this woozy- a result of the second hand smoke, perhaps? He leaned closer, trying to make out their face, trying to find some sort of recognition. He could just see a flash of black hair shining nearly blue in the lighting. Black eyes were framed by a shock of white. But the rest of their face was utterly unrecognizable. "Or rather, how lucky for me."

Havoc grinned. Jackpot.

"How long have you been here?"

"A little too long," Havoc chuckled lowly, "I was just about to leave, unless…" he would have never used the word husky to describe his voice at that moment, but he was tired and he was frustrated, and he was going to milk this for all it was worth. "…maybe somebody could give me a little motivation to stay."

"Is that an offer, lieutenant?"

Havoc blanched.

Warm. Havoc could feel those hands cupping his cheek, lacing their fingers in his hair, moving their lips against his mouth. The thin cloth of a glove should have tipped him off. Shock left him momentarily unresponsive, a problem that was quickly rectified by a lovely little thing called sexual frustration. What was once a one-sided lip lock became more than an enthusiastic joint effort. To hell with the irony of the fact that a few minutes earlier, he had grimaced at clearly inebriated couples doing just this. He could see why they seemed to be enjoying themselves so much. Blonde hair stood on end on the back of his neck, a shiver running through him that had little or nothing to do with the draft from the half-open door. Faintly, Havoc's tongue traced the other's mouth, teasing and coaxing their lips. Surprisingly compliant, Havoc heard a moan coming from their throat, surprisingly deep. His arms wrapped around the small of his mystery woman's back and their shoulders only to find that this was certainly no woman. If this was a woman, then she had the most muscular form he'd ever felt on anybody of the female persuasion. And he most definitely recognized this particular form.

Havoc broke apart, covering his mouth, breathing heavily into his palm. There was no mistaking it at all.

"…Colonel."

"I never took you to be this careless, Havoc. Not even drunk. I can't begin to think what you're like when you get really smashed."

Havoc raised a brow, trying not to let the fact that he had just kissed Colonel Mustang- Colonel Mustang, for God's sake- sink into his head. He snorted. "Do you always take advantage of your subordinates like that, Colonel? Or am I just special?"

"Well," Roy said, way too nonchalant for Havoc to understand, "What do you think, Lieutenant?" Havoc noticed he hadn't called him by name that time.

Havoc studied the Colonel's eyes for a moment. Those same dark eyes, under such blissful ignorance, had been deep and entrancing moments ago, so full of appeal. Those same eyes that, unfortunately, still were.

Well, he needed a stress reliever, and Colonel didn't seem to be protesting. So…

Roy would probably never expect him to initiate a kiss between them anyway. It'd be nice to get him off guard. And if his hair ended up on fire in the end, well, he'd deal with it.

So, there you have it, ladies and gents: My second attempt at Roy/Havoc. Hope you like it, Krishi, because it was a pain to write. A surprisingly hard prompt, thankyouverymuch. But I do it for you, because I am a wonderful person and need to brush up on my BL skillz. That last line I added on impulse. I still suck at make-out scenes. I don't care if any of you review, since I just wrote this for a friend. But if you would I'd appreciate it.