Harsh sunlight cascaded through the windows, directly into my face.

"Damn."

I blinked furiously; the light was not helping the pounding in my head, which kept beating like a drum.

"What the hell happened anyway?" I murmured to myself, struggling to regain my foggy memory. I laid back on the empty bed.

"Wait a sec…"

I shot back up; ignoring the light-headed feeling I got from doing so.

This wasn't my bed.

I gazed around the room.

It wasn't mine.

My memories rushed back into my empty head, and I gave a small yelp.

I… with the bastard Colonel… we…

I staggered out of the bed and gave a hurried guess as to which door was the bathroom. I threw myself to the toilet and vomited.

"I feel so… violated." I gasped into the toilet.

My mouth was dry and my voice harsh; my face sweaty and my boxers… wet. I turned to the sink and washed my face with cold, clear water. As I patted myself dry, my gaze wandered into the mirror. I looked the same as ever, but, but, there was something out of place. My whole face, no, my whole body seemed to glow, my eyes shined, and I started to feel giddy because of it.

I stormed out of the bathroom, disgusted. What the hell was that about? I re-entered the bedroom and realized I was naked, save for a pair of red boxers.

… Which weren't even mine.

Damnit!

I searched the room, but luck was laughing at me today, and I couldn't seem to find my clothes.

"Damn bastard must of hid 'em." I growled, searching through his closet, before finally settling on a crimson colored shirt 5x too big for me. It reached my knees and the sleeves were a little past my elbows.

Sunlight was now fully filtered through the blindless windows. Mustang must have super-sensitive eyes to use the light as an alarm clock, because I sure didn't see one in the room. The room, speaking of which, was… nice. Figuring the bastard, it had to be nice. Dark, mahogany wood, deep gold sheets, red and blue accents, and pictures. Lots of pictures. Looks like his "doting father" friend wasn't the only one into photography. I glanced around, spotting a lot of pictures of the team (I, being the delightfully charming person I am, had scowled for all of them), a couple of an older woman who had the same striking eyes as Mustang himself, so she could only be his mother, and a single picture of myself.

I ambled over to face the picture. He (most likely Hughes though, probably put him up to it) must've followed me around that day. I was caught with a smile, a broad, wide, genuine smile. My eyes shined, rid of the darkness they normally harbored and I looked young; so young.

I snorted, "Why the hell does he have a picture of me?"

Of course, hope blossomed in my chest. But I couldn't count on it. I could never.

--

"Roy!" An insistent voice called after him, "Rooooy!!"

Roy Mustang did not run away from anything or anyone. He was merely walking very fast and trying to get away from a certain glasses-wearing Lieutenant Colonel. A hand caught his shoulder. Damnit.

"Roy!" Maes Hughes gasped, "Can't you hear me? Look, I've got a new album of Elysia!"

Roy spun around, trying best to hide any emotion showing on his face, "Look Hughes, I've got a lot of work to do, so if you'll excuse me. And if you even lift a finger to try and shove that photo album in my face, so help me, I will scorch both it and you."

Hughes stood there, motionless, and just as Roy was turning away, broke into an ear-splitting grin.

"Roy!! Why didn't you tell me?!"

The Flame turned back around to gape at his friend.

"Tell you what?"

"Who you're in love with, of course! She's got to be pretty, given your reputation. Do I know her? What's her name if I don't? When are you-"

As earlier stated, Roy Mustang did not run away. In this case, he sprinted away.

--

"Sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Is everything alright, sir?"

"Why would you ask such a question Lieutenant? Of course everything is alright."

"Don't make me pull out my gun, sir." She unpocketed her handarm.

A sigh came from behind the desk. "Let Hughes in then, Lieutenant."

"Of course, sir." Depositing her gun, she opened the door.

How did Maes figure that out, anyway? He was supposed to be the one who was good at analyzing people! Roy let his head fall into his hands propped up on the desk.

"Oh Roy, it's part of my job description. MI, remember? I have to be good at those kinds of things."

Roy looked up from his hands and cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm just that good Roy." Hughes winked, "Even if I weren't, I'm your best friend, so I should know if something is troubling you."

"Maes…"

"Now tell me who the lucky lady is!"

Knowing there was no way of escaping, Colonel Mustang took a deep breath, looked his friend in the eye, and said, "If they ever heard you say that, you'd be dead before you knew it. They aren't a 'she' Maes. They're a 'he'."

--

"Umm… Win, yeah, I know, yeah, yeah I am taking care of it, Winry… WINRY! Lemme speak to Al!"

I sighed. Of course my brother had to be in Resembol when it happened, but it just couldn't be helped. Probably better anyway, because he would only get protective.

"Brother? Winry didn't throw a wrench into the phone and successfully knock you unconscious, did she?"

I sighed again, "No Al, but I kinda wish. Then this could all be some crazy ass dream."

"Uh-oh, Brother, tell me what happened."

And so I told, albeit a little reluctantly, I told. It started with a, "Well, me and Mustang kinda…" and trailed off from there, leaving it to the imagination. And ended with a squeak from the other end of the line and a choked up "I'm coming right home Brother!" And a dead line. Oh dear.

I rubbed my face with both hands. Goddamnit. At least today was Friday, and since I skipped going to that stuffy hole of an office today, I wouldn't have to face the bastard Colonel until Monday. Maybe I could even fake being sick to get a couple more days away from him…

What the fuck? Why am I so scared of seeing him?

Because he fucked you. That could cause some problems.

I growled at the little, smug voice in my head.

Since when have I ever cared about complications like that?

Since you fell in love with him. Obviously.

Great. Just great. Just because I- What?

You love him. God, for someone who's supposed to be smart you're pretty stupid.

I was speechless. Forgetting the nagging voice in my head, I went out for a walk.

God, I needed a drink.

--

Roy Mustang sat at one of the local bars, close to the base, and filled with familiar blue uniforms. He sat with his head resting on a propped up hand and his other hand closed around an empty shot glass that used to be filled with whiskey.

God, he needed another drink.

--

I didn't know where I was going. Really, I had no clue. I just started walking. When I looked around, I was near HQ. It didn't register in my mind that maybe I wanted to come here, just that my feet were taking me to the only bar I knew. The one I went to just the other night ago. The night I got drunk and had sex with Roy Mustang. Really, I just pushed the door open and shoved my way past other military officers. Sitting next to an unknown man at the bar, I signaled a weary-looking bartender. Before he could even ask my age, the man next to me spoke.

"He's with me."