It was a glorious night for Riza Hawkeye. A rare evening to relax on the dorm couches. Midterm exams had just finished. First midterms of the year, in mid-October. Riza liked the week after midterms better than after finals, because everyone took off to go home for the summer right after finals. But midterms? Everyone still had class, but no one has assignments, so there were late nights, with cookies and tea (or vodka and beer pong, she supposed) and conversations with Rebecca about boys or their futures.

Riza wasn't much of a partier, she never had been. She didn't understand it, really. Why go spend time drinking the night away, not remembering what even happened, only to wake up miserable and sick the next morning? Not for her, no thanks.

It was her second year at university, which meant on-campus housing. The school regulation was at least two years in the dorms, more if you wanted, but it was so expensive that almost everyone moved off campus for their junior and senior years.

She and Rebecca had been friends since they were little. Everyone told them not to room with their best friend because it can "strain your relationship," but being Rebecca's roommate had been fantastic. They were practically roommates before university, always at each other's houses, eating each other's food, knowing each others secrets.

Rebecca was out for the evening, on a date, probably. She had always been popular with the boys, even in high school. That was fine with Riza, who had 9am class in the morning, and felt like she could use some time to herself.

But she wanted to do something for her class. It was a creative writing class, fulfilling a general education requirement for fine arts, but it had turned out to be quite the tight-knit community. Their midterm consisted of working together to publish an anthology of their best works from the first half of the year, and it had come together splendidly. Riza felt like she should congratulate her classmates and celebrate with them.

As she made her way to the cozy dorm kitchen, she decided that there was no better way to celebrate than with cookies. (9am cookies? Breakfast cookies. Perfect.) Before she headed to the kitchen, she stopped to turn on the fireplace. It was electronic, nothing like her wood one at home, but it made nice, crackling sounds and provided some warmth on the cool fall evening.

She had a cubby in the kitchen with her cooking supplies and ingredients. The school cafeteria, was, expectedly, sub-par, and Riza's parents were excellent cooks, so Riza found herself making her own dinner in the dorm kitchen most of the time.

She got out the sugar and eggs and started to beat them together. It was a quiet night, with the fireplace sputtering and popping pleasantly in the background.

As she stood in the kitchen, she reflected on what the year so far had been like. She was a little envious of the ease Rebecca had with the boys. Rebecca was just so natural with them, laughing and flirting like it was nothing. Riza had no such talent.

She sighed, inwardly berating herself for getting worked up over something so silly.

Riza left the cookies on a plate and ran up to her room on the second floor to get a book. She was going to sit by the fireplace, eat one (or two, or three), and save the rest for class tomorrow. She pulled her flour-dusted shirt over her head, chose a comfortable t-shirt, and grabbed her favorite mug for some tea.

As she walked down the stairs, the kitchen came back into view. She couldn't see the plate of cookies anymore, because someone was standing over them. If she wasn't mistaken, he (for it certainly was a dark-haired he) was devouring the cookies with lightening speed.

"Hey!" she yelped out, surprised. No one ever came after her food.

A dark-haired boy in sweats turned towards her, chocolate around the corners of his mouth, eyes widened in panic.

"Uh... are these yours?"

Riza frowned. She knew this guy. He lived on the first floor, who was a chemistry major, and a junior, which meant he had to be made of money if he was still living in the dorms. She didn't spend an hour prepping and baking to have some free-loader eat her precious cookies.

"Well, they were mine, but it seems that they belong to you now." The plate, full only minutes ago, was now almost empty.

"I thought... I mean..." he was stammering nervously now. "They were just... here... maybe they were for... the dorm?"

Riza harrumphed. "You're supposed to leave a note for communal food. No note, no sharing." She crossed her arms over her chest and sneered at him.

In a panic, the boy held out a hand to her. "I'm... uh... I'm Roy?"

Riza was not impressed. "Wipe that chocolate off your fingers before you ask to shake a woman's hand. It's uncivilized."

"Ha... right..."

He walked to the sink and turned on the water. After he finished washing his hands, he turned back to her.

"So, I'm Roy. Roy Mustang."

Riza cocked an eyebrow. "Well, Roy Mustang, my name is Riza. And I'm considering filing a complaint with the RA."

He laughed nervously, "I mean, is that really necessary? It was a simple mistake."

"As you can see, I was just about to wash my dishes and have a relaxing post-midterms evening in front of the fire, but that's all been ruined. Why shouldn't I complain? You broke the rules."

Chemistry majors are always so conniving, Riza thought. She waited for him to make an excuse, to back away, accept defeat, or try to bribe her.

Instead, he sighed and hung his head. And much to her surprise, he began to apologize.

"No, you're right. It was rude of me. They just looked so good, and I'm a little fried from all the midterms, myself." He lifted his eyes up from the ground to meet hers. He even cracked a tiny smile.

"Can I fix it?" he asked.

Riza continued to glare, but she could feel her stomach start to churn a little bit. Why did this stupid kid have to be so sincere? Why couldn't he be like the other spoiled rich kids? It's so much easier to blow them off, to report them, get them fined and/or kicked out.

"You? Want to fix it?"

Roy's eyes widened in surprise. "Why shouldn't I? It's clearly my fault. Come on, there has to be something I can do. The name was Riza, right?"

She nodded tentatively.

"Fine. I won't report you on a few conditions. First, you will bake a new batch of cookies. I will supervise, but you will do all the work yourself. Second, you will do all my dishes and put all my ingredients away."

Roy was expectant. "You mean, that's it?"

"Yes." Riza could be reasonable. "Oh, and you'll make my tea."

"Well, Riza, those are all things I think I can do! With your assistance, I will make the second-best batch of cookies that this dorm kitchen has ever seen!"

"Why second best, chemistry-major Mustang? Aren't you supposed to be good at mixing things together?" Riza smirked.

Roy looked at her, smiled, and the sophomore could have sworn that he winked as he said, "Because no cookies can ever compare to yours, Riza."