To Pechay-hime and Marshie-chan. :]

I think this is what deserves the T rating. Kinda? XD

Tequila Sunrise

It was yet another one of those peculiar days that the men in Colonel Mustang's team would finish and turn in all their work early in exchange for an earlier time out at the Headquarters. It was like a sickness, and Lieutenant Hawkeye knew all the signs and symptoms the men gave out.

The first and most obvious "symptom" would probably be their hard work and diligence a couple of days before the event. They would all work so hard—no complaints whatsoever—and they would even skip their breaks. The Colonel would fight the urge to nap, Havoc wouldn't bother to take a smoke, and Breda would even cut on his non-break-snacks. Sometimes, they would even go as far as going on overtime just to finish more work than the usual. Then they'd be able to accomplish at least a week's worth of work in half the time. This was no problem for Lieutenant Hawkeye; in fact, she liked it. But it was really strange that this diligence and perseverance of theirs was periodical.

After doing some research and investigations, Riza discovered what the cause of this "illness" was. And because it happened so often, Riza decided to give it a name, and she called it, "the Boy's Night Out." It may sound silly, but it was true. On certain days, the men would work themselves up, only to reward themselves with a night of fun and goofing off at some bar downtown. Under Roy's lead, as usual.

They had these occasional "nights out" mainly to unwind. Usually, on these nights, they simply goof off, have fun, and forget the worries and problems in the military. On these nights, they have no regard for rank or position; they come as friends and comrades. On these nights, they can do whatever they want—get payback for inflicted embarrassments, return favors, or simply to renew the relationships blurred by work.

And what better way to spend this night than drinking, right? Boys will be boys as they say, so of course, jokes, laughs, games, and large amounts of alcohol is expected. Alcohol, liquor, beer—whatever you choose to call it—he's in every man's party and this one is no exception. For years on end, they have had this wonderful visitor to join them, and he is more than welcome.

That was how it was; nights spent with friends, with beer, with cards, and occasionally, with buying girls some drinks (though usually, that's only on Havoc's agenda). But tonight is a different story. Tonight, the boys decided to spend their night out in a new way.

"Crash the Colonel's apartment!" Havoc said enthusiastically, pumping his hand into the night air as the group made their way onto the streets in front of Eastern Headquarters. The others, namely Breda, Falman, and Fuery, all nodded in consent to Havoc's new idea. Though there wouldn't be an until-your-money-lasts supply of alcohol at the Colonel's place, there was a certain shine at the idea of crashing the Colonel's home. Roy didn't seem to approve or disapprove of the matter.

Lieutenant Hawkeye was heading out of the Headquarters as well, walking in a rather far distance from the men. She was the last to leave the office, as she went to deliver the last of their finished papers and made a short stop to the restroom. The blonde was spotted by Second Lieutenant Havoc even at her distance from them; he waved. "Lieutenant Hawkeye!" He called in a voice a bit too loud. The group stopped to wait for the blonde lieutenant, all the while making a short discussion among themselves.

Tonight was night of change, so perhaps it would be fun if they invited the Lieutenant over, right?

"Say, Lieutenant," Havoc started, as Riza approached them. Breda started to back away though, as he caught sight of Riza's famed dog, Black Hayate, trailing behind his master. "Wanna come with us? We're going to the Colonel's place." He asked, then adding the little detail as if he were teasing, and yet at the same time, persuading her.

"Is that so?" She replied, almost uninterested. She was a girl—no, actually, a woman—and she would certainly not belong in the men's party. Although the invitation did get her curious about the Colonel's home… No, no. It's a Boys' Night Out; you'll be out of place. You won't be able to relate to their… boy things. And besides—

"Yes, Lieutenant, you should come," Roy grinned, breaking Riza out of her thoughts. There was something about his smile that made Riza want to decline all the more, but at the same time, it was a smile she couldn't resist.

Riza Hawkeye was not a drinker; she could play cards, as long as it didn't require the loser to strip or to drink—which rarely happened if you were playing with men. Riza was quite conservative. No, actually, it was more like she wanted to preserve that disciplinarian image, that no-nonsense, witty and wise image she always projected. If she didn't, they would never take her seriously, and they'd never finish their work!

Now she found herself sitting on the floor, as the group encircled an ornate coffee table placed at the center of the room. On the table were several empty and half-empty bottles and glasses, none of which were Riza's. She looked around her; first at her companions, whose faces were now tinged with red, flushed from the alcohol, then at the Colonel's surprisingly neat apartment (disregarding the space they've "crashed" into). Underneath the smell of alcohol and Havoc's cigarettes, a distinct scent lingered—it didn't smell like anything else, it was unexplainable. It was the scent of a Flame Alchemist.

"Hey, hey," Roy said rather loudly, though his voice didn't need to compete with any other sound in the room. His speech was already quite slurred by the alcohol, but was still, nonetheless, understandable. "Let's play… President!" The others laughed and nodded, clearing up the table to make room for the cards, which Roy had placed in a stack at the center of the table.

Havoc shuffled and dealt the cards among them, as Roy—taking the liberty of being the first President—discussed the rules. "The usual rules! But…" He trailed off, his gaze falling to Riza, who was looking at her cards with a frown. Roy smirked. "The loser has to do a dare!" He brought out a variety of drinks enough for the six of them. This wasn't a good sign.

So what were the usual rules? Riza was familiar with the game of President—she had watched a few games herself—but she never really tried to play it. To her, it seemed like a combination of several card games, such as Big Two, and Poker.

The game starts with the Three of Clubs. Whoever owns the card must put it down either singly, or in a combination with other cards like a pair. The next player then follows the trend set by the first player, putting down cards higher than that of the previous player. And it continues until a player loses all his cards, and is thus declared President. The President then decides what to do with the losers.

When you pass on your turn, you take a penalty—which the President of the round decides.

And so, the game began.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!" The men chorused, when they saw Riza's face fall at the cards Havoc just laid down. It was a flush, and it was a case of pure luck if a beginner like Riza could top it off. So the men, certain she would pass, all cheered for a penalty. Riza didn't seem to have beginner's luck at all, and was drinking all throughout the game. "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

Riza had a frown on her face as she examined the cards in her hand. Compared to the others, she still had quite a lot. Havoc's cards were a four, five, six, seven, and eight of diamonds. How can I— And then it hit her. "Uh… is this higher?" She asked innocently as she carefully unfolded her cards on top of the pile, her smile growing as the men's faces fell. An Eight, Nine, Ten, Jack, and Queen of Hearts. Hearts are lower than diamonds, but the Queen is definitely of a higher rank.

"So… the President is impeached!" She turned happily to Roy, who was once again the President of the round. And at that moment, she was starting to enjoy the game. But it was a mere fifteen seconds of fame and glory, because Roy just laid down his cards, showing an even more triumphant smile than that of Riza's. "A Royal Flush." Riza mumbled flatly as she, along with Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Falman stared at the Colonel's cards, as if wishing that their continuous glares would suddenly change the faces of the cards he had put down. But there was really nothing they could do about it; it was a Royal Flush, and Roy just had to put down his trump card—the Two of Diamonds.

"The President pleads innocent by act of a justified Royal Flush," Roy cheered, as he passed down several bottles of beer.

They all laughed as the bottles were passed around, one for each person to take a swig from. "You're cheating, aren't you? Corrupt President!" Riza laughed after gulping down a mouthful.

Roy laughed at her remark. As his gaze fell onto her, with her hair now let loose and her cheeks red, he couldn't help but smile. Alcohol really did have a great effect on her—bringing about a 360-degree change in her demeanor. From the strict and serious lieutenant came an all-too-happy, giddy, and carefree Riza. It was actually quite cute—the way she laughed, the tint of her cheeks, her golden hair that framed her face, her dark chestnut eyes, her remarks from out of the blue…

"Another round?" She asked, which came as a surprise to Roy. She was the one who involuntarily came here, played, and drank, and yet now she was the one asking for more. She gathered the cards together and took the liberty of shuffling and dealing them.

"I think… I'll pass." Havoc mumbled as he lay down on the carpeted floor, his arms outstretched with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. Riza turned to look at the others, who, now really drunk, decided to follow suit and pass the game. Breda however, wasn't awake to give his decision.

Riza sighed. "Giving up already? It's still early!" She cried as she glanced up at the clock. It was ten past midnight. Yep, it was really early. She heaved another sigh as the men refused to get up from their positions. She threw the cards into a pile at the center of the table, then shifted her position to face Roy, who apparently, was still wide awake, though drunk. "You're not going to give up too, are you?"

Roy smiled. "…often the struggler has given up when he might have captured the victor's cup." He said, quoting a poem he often heard back in his Academy days. Riza's face lit up with recognition. "And he learned to late when the night came down, how close he was to the golden crown." They chanted together happily.

"Success is failure turned inside out,"

"The silver tint of the cloud of doubt,"

"And you can never tell how close you are,"

"It may be near when it seems so far,"

"So stick to the fight when your hardest hit,"

"It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit!" They laughed upon closing the poem. "Hmm…" Roy thought when their laughter died down and silence started to envelop them. "You still want to play?" Riza shrugged. "D' you know the Shit Game?"

Riza's eyes widened. Shit Game? What in the world is that? "No…?"

Roy laughed. "It's fairly easy! We just have to count alternatively, and whenever we come across a number with 7 or a multiple of 7, we say 'shit' instead. Ready? One!"

"Two?"

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Shit!" Riza's mouth formed an 'o' at Roy's response. Who would've thought that even those kinds of words could be used in such simple games? Boys. Yes, boys. It was times like these that made it hard to believe she was working with grown men—with adults. No, they were still boys. He was still a boy; a boy at heart, with his games, his dreams, his ideals.

"We need little boys like him every once in a while too," She thought out loud. Riza clasped her hand over her mouth in a quick, reflex motion as her words reached her ears, realizing that she had said voiced out her thoughts unintentionally.

"Little boys like who?" Roy asked, curious. Riza only smiled and shook her head, trying to dismiss the topic. "Little boys like Mister Mustang—no, like little Roy-boy, or… or little, tiny Fullmetal!"

"You're a bully. Edward would be sure to throw a fit if he were here," Riza remarked, in a tone almost as if she had never been drunk at all, though she was smiling. "But he's not here—that's what you're going to say, right?" She anticipated with a smirk—something rare to come from her.

"No, I was going to say he's underage to go out drinking, even under adult supervision," Roy replied. He had a point; Edward was barely sixteen, barely five feet tall (though his height has no real significance whatsoever), and barely calm to begin with. If Edward had gone out drinking with them, his growth would probably be slowed down even further. And besides, Edward was always out on his travels finding a way to get his and Alphonse's body back. "But your answer's good too." He chimed.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It was then that they realized it was awfully quiet, and that they had been wrecking havoc and had been noisy all throughout the night with their little drinking party. It was now a quarter to oh-one-hundred hours, and yet Roy and Riza still remained awake. "Hey Riza—look!" Roy said all of a sudden, just to break the silence, as he pointed at Breda's sleeping figure in the now dark living room.

Riza turned to look immediately, spotting Breda and what seemed to be a fluffy ball of fur beside him. Hayate-gou! She realized, but before she could make a move to take the dog away from Breda (who would be sure to make a fuss when he found out he slept beside the dog), she felt a poke on her cheek. She flung her head around to look at Roy, but this only made the poke deeper into her cheek. "Hey!"

"Gotcha!" He said happily. He flicked his finger at her forehead, which gained him an even louder protest. Then in a quick move, he poked her at the side, a place he remembered from their childhood days.

"No!" Came a high-pitched, girlish shriek from the lieutenant; a sound she had buried long ago in her past, long before she had gone off to Ishbal. And this awakened a memory left long ago behind the large wooden doors of the now decaying manor, in the place the two once called home. "Mustang-san, stop!" The same thing she said the first time he attempted to tickle the then ten-year-old Riza Hawkeye, whom he knew as his master's daughter.

He did not heed her protest—her laughter was uncontrollable, uncontainable now, and was contagious. Perhaps the reason why she chose not to laugh out loud, and perhaps also the reason why she did not drink—for fear of letting down her guard—just like now.

And she found herself on her back, cringing in fear of another 'attack', stifling her laughter, until her breaths were steady and she succumbed to sleep long awaited. "Riza?" He whispered, though mindful that she may have already fallen asleep.

Havoc was sprawled on the side of the table, cigarette and bottle still in hand. Breda was curled up at the opposite side, with Black Hayate dozing off beside him. Falman fell asleep seated on one of the armchairs; he was motionless. Fuery slept leaning on the sofa, his glasses askew on his face. Riza was there too, on the carpeted floor, her hair fanning out from underneath her, arms folded across her side, as if hugging herself. And Roy lay there, in their midst, but he was not asleep. Not yet.

Despite the great lack of sleep, the tiredness, the hangover, Riza Hawkeye couldn't help but wake up early. Her body clock had forced her awake, and hitting snooze was not an option. She sat up from her position and looked around. Beer bottles, glasses, the pile of cards, the smell of alcohol, their uniforms hanging on the backs of the sofa and on the floor, and for a moment, she asked herself where she was and why she was there, but the memories surfaced in her mind almost instantly.

She couldn't help but laugh; how she found herself in this apartment, in this room, with these five people, she couldn't pinpoint exactly. It was a hasty decision, something uncharacteristic of her, but it was not something she would regret, most probably.

"All work and no play makes Roy, Jean, Heymans, Kain, and Vato dull boys," she said to herself, as she watched the sun rise through the kitchen window. She had wandered into the Colonel's kitchen in search of water to ease her hangover, and had been successful with her mission. She smiled as she lifted her glass to the light, the water reflecting the orange hues of the sunrise. "Tequila Sunrise."

おわり。

I don't know what to say about this. I seriously don't know. XD The usual, I guess. That it's random. And yes, I know Riza was way, way out of character. Because she was drunk. Kinda? Yeah? XD? And I actually didn't know how to end it. Gaaah. But this is the longest one I've written so far. 8D

Anyway, thanks for reading! :]

P.S. The formatting options hate me. XD

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Cherry: I'm on Patron Tequila! I'm drunk on margarita!
Roy: We make the good girls go bad! Hurhurhur. 8D
Cherry: XDDD