A/N: Lager, otherwise also known as today's most commercially available beer.

Chapter 1: Lager

"I'm going to propose to her, Roy."

Huh? Roy Mustang looked over his glass with a sheepish smile. "I thought you already did."

His comrade took off his glasses and started cleaning them against his day-old shirt. "You're kidding," he almost laughed. "When would I have done it? Before the war? During?"

Roy kept his smile.

"This is why you don't have a steady girlfriend. You have zero sense of timing."

"Hey, hey, Maes Hughes—!" Roy spat at the sudden offensive. He was about to add to it, but his good friend began to laugh. The sound quickly melted into the rest of their surroundings of the small but bustling East City casual bar. The Führer's Beer was their usual, ever since they found themselves out of the Academy and assigned to Eastern Command. Often, it was a chance to exchange banter and dreams after late nights performing their duties. Other nights, when they were rid of their distinctly militaristic blue garb, they would be stupid drunk, arm-in-arm, bellowing old Amestrian love songs by the live piano while other drunken couples and soldiers shared the dancefloor.

Tonight was supposedly one of the latter, but they were just getting started on the beer.

Maes sniggered at Roy's familiar boyish temper and resisted the urge to bring up a certain blonde acquaintance he made through Roy in Ishval. Roy had called her a childhood friend. What was her name again? Maes thought, and his mind briefly drifted farther east, onto the hot sands of the desert.

"Did we have a rotation in snipers?" Maes walked up to the small group of foot soldiers sitting around a fire. Dusk had fallen onto the holy, battle trodden land of Ishval. The opposing sides had ceased fire and were resting, if not planning their attack for dawn.

"Not really," one of the men offered, rubbing his hands together. "Some rookies were brought in, though. Fresh out of the Academy."

Maes' eyes widened. "Right out of the Academy and into this hell hole?"

Another man sighed and looked up at Maes. "They're apparently a good batch of sharp eyes, Captain. And while they're rested, a handful have been tasked the first watch tonight."

Maes looked up to see dark figures on the nearby horizon, hunched and facing away from the Amestrian circle. Their rifles were poised and resting at angles in their arms.

"Did you see the youngest of them?"

Maes looked curiously at the first man. "Which one?"

"Lady with blonde hair. You can't miss."

Maes' breath hitched at the thought of a young woman on the battlefield.

"She's the best of the best. They say she hasn't wasted a shot yet."

"Ah, yeah," said the second man. "The Hawk's Eye."

Maes felt a low and thoughtful grumble at the back of his throat and he looked up at the hunched figures again. That was when he realized that he recognized the blonde-haired sniper. The girl from the lookout this afternoon...thus to no surprise, he also recognized Roy was making his way towards her.

As soon as Roy was four paces out, The Hawk's Eye turned to acknowledge him. Roy stopped and gave her a tired smile. She was too exhausted to return it.

"Speaking of timing, Roy," Maes set his glasses down next to his beer, "None better than now, too."

Roy narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Hero of Ishval."

Roy tightened his lips and stared at his drink. "Funny you should mention."

"Listen," Maes said solemnly. "Our duty there is done. And it will change again in the next few weeks."

"And we're supposed to move on and readily accept whatever that is?"

"For now, and again and again," Maes nodded. "Until you reach your goal, correct?"

Roy raised his eyebrows. He was met with what seemed to be a stronger resolve than his own.

"I will protect those directly below me," Roy said, not without a growl as he looked up at the man who stood high and above the land of which he ordered its extermination. "And the ones below me will protect those below them. We tiny humans should at least be capable of that much."

Maes offered a sly smile. "Therefore, the only way you can protect this entire country is if you make your way to the very top, huh?"

Maes scratched his head, "Have I lost you?"

Roy snapped back to attention. "Ah, sorry…I was—"

"I'd still like to take part of that action," Maes continued. "But I'm also trying to get off the field. I'm not putting my life on the line again. Not like that."

Roy heaved a sigh and took a swig of his beer. "Where to?"

"The Court Martial Office."

"All the way in Central? Man, even that's a slow life for someone like you."

Maes punched Roy on the arm, "Well, I'm leaving all the excitement to freaks like you, Flame Alchemist!"

Roy smirked and brushed off the fist.

"Besides," Maes said. "Wouldn't you want to have someone on the inside looking at each and every skirmish in the country?"

What...Roy's eyes narrowed as he looked into Maes'. He chuckled darkly. "I see...we're getting more serious now."

"You telling me I was ahead of you?" Maes retorted in mock surprise. "Mustang still falling behind, just like in the Academy."

"Shut your mouth!" Roy barked, his 18-year old self still seething over that last slice of spinach quiche. "I'm the one doing the climbing, aren't I?"

Maes had a gleam in his eye as he replaced his glasses and downed the rest of his beer. Just then, a shift in bar music emanated from the small quartet playing in the corner, and some young teenage couples got up to dance. As if on cue, the bartender appeared behind the counter.

"Another for you, sir?"

Roy tapped his own empty glass before Maes could reply, "Make it two. And put it on my tab at the end of the night."

"You got it, chief!" The bartender took their glasses and disappeared for a refill.

Maes smiled. "What for?"

"Old time's sake," Roy returned and massaged the back of his neck. "And for the promotion that comes with your transfer to Court Martial. We'll celebrate your proposal only if you get a 'Yes.'"

"'If?'" Maes choked, "You asshole, you think she'll say 'No?!'"

"Of course not," Roy said casually. "Which is why we're definitely doing this again, right?"

Maes scoffed, "You bet."

Two fresh beers slide down the countertop. Roy grabbed his glass and closed his eyes to recall what Maes' future fiancée looked like.

"Yo, Roy-boy!"

Roy fought the damning urge to roll his eyes and strangle his best mate. Further down the street, Maes was making his way over, a huge smile on his face, and an elegantly dressed, green-eyed woman on his arm. Roy put on his best smile back. "Major!" he called.

From this distance, with the eyes Roy used to pin-point the smallest flame targets, he could see the woman's cheeks turn pink.

"Fancy running into you on your day off, State Alchemist," Hughes offered.

Ah. How considerate to mention my title back.

"Someone I'd like you to meet. Gracia, this is Major Roy Mustang, a good friend from the Academy," Maes grinned. "Roy, this is Gracia. She's my girlfriend."

Roy saw it immediately, the way Maes' face completely changed as soon as he addressed this woman...Gracia. His smile became more endearing, his eyes glassy, his voice just a notch gentler.

"Major Mustang," Gracia smiled and offered her hand to shake. "Maes has said wonderful things about you."

Roy stopped himself from giving a beet red Maes a wink. He took Gracia's hand and shook it customarily, "And he's said nothing but beautiful things about you, Miss Gracia. Are you just going on your date?"

"Y-yeah…" Maes said, inserting himself back into the limelight of the conversation. "Off to see the opera."

"Oh? Which one?"

"Die Rose vom Liebesgarten!" Gracia said breathlessly. "Maes was too kind to surprise me with it."

Roy smiled kindly and meant every single word he said next, "Miss Gracia, you'll only ever see such unparalleled love and care from Maes Hughes."

"Cheers," Roy grinned and raised his glass.

"One more thing."

Roy raised his eyebrows, beer still in the air.

"While we're on the trail of certainty, will you be my Best Man?"

Roy's eyes widened and he felt his mouth open rather stupidly.

In that moment he felt completely unsure of what he began to feel in his chest. It felt like fire, as if something small and warm was beginning to swell inside him and was threatening to burst. Wait. It felt like pride.

Pride! He was proud!

Maes stared at the letter and let out the highest pitched scream Roy had ever heard high-pitched screams go.

"What is it?" Roy demanded, rather startled.

"It's my beautiful future!" Maes said giddily. "Her name is Gracia. She's waiting in Central for me to come home-"

Maes halted.

Roy stared on incredulously.

"All by herself, all this time," Maes hissed. "What if another man puts the moves on her?"

Good god...

"Nah, Gracia wouldn't disregard a fine man like me to have an affair with someone else…"

"Hughes, a little word of warning," Roy said, eyes closed and brow furrowing with irritation. "This often happens in movies and novels. A guy on the battlefield who brings up stories of his woman immediately dies."

"Listen here, you-!" Hughes grumbled.

Roy turned to look back at the rapidly depleting heritage sights of Ishval. For a moment, both men stood this way. In complete silence.

Maes sighed. "Now I can live until tomorrow."

"What's that?"

"This letter is enough to let me dream about tomorrow," Maes explained. "Here on this battlefield, where we don't know when things will end…"

And, here they were now. As Maes so promised his bride-to-be. And Roy Mustang, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, was going to be Maes Hughes' Best Man at the wedding!

Hell yes!

Maes' barking laughter again pulled Roy back into the bar scene, "Judging by that stupid look on your face, you agree!"

"Of course, I agree!" Roy's voice was childish again and hot-tempered, but he was honest-to-goodness beaming, and once again offering his beer into the air. "To Mr. and Mrs. Maes and Gracia Hughes!"

Maes turned beet red as he grinned and met Roy's glass. "Cheers, buddy."