A/N- A much shorter version of this was written for Live Journal's fma_fic_contest's prompt "Erectile Dysfunction." Most of the writers (all women, I believe) played it for the laughs. I wonder how a male writer would have treated the topic. So, the theme is sexual, and there are some silly gags about the issue, but there is nothing graphic in the fic.
Back when I expanded this, it was beta'd by the wonderful Steph's. I promptly lost her beta notes and soon switched computers. I took six months to admit my mess up to her, and she could not find her notes, either. So, I want to give Steph's credit for all of the hard work she did, but she deserves none of the blame, as I don't remember a word of what she advised.
-xoxoxoxo-
Having been deemed "least likely to be corrupted," Fuery became the Keeper of Wagers when Falman decided to remain at Briggs. Kain hadn't really wanted the position, but he took it to avoid the unavoidable bickering that would have occurred had the job fallen to Havoc or Breda. He kept the book with the meticulousness of a man who worked with fine wires and tiny fragile parts. He'd managed to deal with most bets without too much agita, but this particular pot troubled him.
It was all about the general, naturally. Mus-tang was always a great source of speculation. Lately, he had seemed… not exactly tense… not precisely fearful… not really angry… No one could quite define his mood, but something was definitely up with him. It was perplexing, because all seemed to be going well at work. Grumman's government was still developing, but it was already much better for the populace than Bradley's had been. (Well, any government that did not plan to murder every single citizen would have been an improvement.) They were working on plans for creating a democracy. The rebuilding of Ishval had hit some minor snags but was basically going well. They'd even, shock of all shocks, all been promoted. Mustang had considerable influence with Grumman. He was Grumman's Golden Boy, clearly being groomed for even bigger things, and most Amestrians agreed that he deserved the regard. So, why was the general acting so weirdly?
When the general took a bathroom (not that he announced that was what he was doing) break…
"I'd date the onset of his mood to about a week-and-a half ago," Breda mumbled while chomping on a sloppy ham sandwich. "Right after he and Hawkeye returned from their trip to Central to meet with Fuhrer Grumman. Don't you think that it has something to do with that?"
Havoc replied, "The meeting was supposed to have been about Ishval. We know that things are going surprisingly well here. No reason to think that Grumman thinks otherwise." Havoc's mouth was also occupied with a foreign object, but the cigarette did not muddle his words.
Fuery glanced nervously at Hawkeye as she walked out of the inner office, clearing his throat to warn the others. The conversation broke, but when Hawkeye excused herself, they picked up the flow as if they had not been interrupted.
"Quick! Get the book, Kain! I have a theory," Havoc announced.
Fuery complied but felt edgy about it. The general had been immersing himself in paperwork, a sure sign of the apocalypse or something even worse. They had already survived an apocalypse of sorts. Things can always get more depraved.
He did think that Captain Hawkeye had been treating the general more gently than usual, even before he had started burning (figuratively) through the usual bureaucratic nonsense. If he was working hard and Hawkeye was being nice to him, something was definitely up. And Hawkeye knew what it was. And it was seriously troubling enough that they were keeping it a secret.
Breda went first. "I wonder if something is going on with his eyes. The Stone was really getting low…" He cut off his statement, not wanting Havoc to feel badly about getting healed first. But Havoc didn't seem to notice, so excited was he about his guess at what was wrong with the general.
"It's not 'what's up' with Mustang but what is not up. I bet that he has erectile dysfunction!"
Ambient sounds from the hallway floated through the stunned silence. Fuery's jaw ceased to work; his mouth hung open.
"Why in the world would you even think that?" blurted Breda. "And, moreover, how on earth are you going to prove it?"
Of course, that's exactly when the general returned, and Hawkeye was her usual couple of feet behind him. They must have run into each other coming back from their little excursions.
Fuery noticed Hawkeye noticing The Book. Lunchtime could not come soon enough.
Their exiting the office together didn't look suspicious to the captain and the brigadier general, because Fuery, Breda, and Havoc often had lunch together. (Breda's eating habits disgusted other potential companions. No one else could stand Havoc's smoke. Poor Fuery merely had guilt by association.) Neither Fuery nor Havoc remarked on Breda's rather copious tray contents, despite the ham sandwich from not much earlier. This was no time for friendly insults. The terms of the bet were a much higher priority. They found a relatively secluded table and sat.
"I do have a couple of ideas for testing your hypothesis," whispered Breda. (You'd think that he was trying to keep rumors [which might cause someone to get burnt] from starting, but it was more because Fuery had complained about the massive number of bets he had to track in the ongoing How Many Times Will Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong Remove his Shirt Today? pool. This particular pool had begun when the subject had been a major and before Falman had left for the North. Several of the Briggs soldiers [Yes! Including the General!] were participants.)
-xoxoxoxo-
Hawkeye followed Mustang back into his office after having done something in the outer office. He had already set out their lunches on his desk, having set aside his neatly stacked and largely completed work.
"Your stress is showing. The men realize that something is going on, Sir," Hawkeye said as she passed a napkin to Mustang. She indicated (with a graceful gesture) that he had some mustard at the corner of his mouth. "They can tell that something is bothering you and wonder what. Maybe you should say something."
"You seem as calm as ever. I just don't want to discuss it with them, yet. And, wait, you want me to say something to them?"
"I've thought about it. It would surprise me if they were surprised. They are worried about you. And they just don't recognize the signs in me. Well, they may see that I am behaving a little differently, but they don't recognize it as a result of anxiety," she sighed. "They can be trusted."
"You know I trust them. I'll tell them as soon as we know. Besides, I feel that if I talk about it to anyone but you, it'll…"
"It'll what?"
"It'll jinx us."
Hawkeye had the decency to turn her face away from Mustang before rolling her eyes. Still, worrying about getting jinxed was a bit saner than what she had seen written in that stupid bet book. And she hated to admit it, but she was a little afraid of a jinx, too.
-xoxoxoxo-
"So, what's your idea, Breda?" asked Havoc.
"Well, I want to go on record that I think you are nuts." Breda paused for emphasis. "This plan would only work if the chief uses his apartment for the activity in question, which he might do elsewhere. Kain here could secretly wire up Mustang's place. Tap his phone."
Fuery shook his head so violently that his spectacles became dislodged. "No. No. No. No!"
"That really would be the best way," mused Havoc.
"No. No. No. No!"
"Or, Fuery could go to the general and say that he had a problem in bed and needs advice from a man with experience…" proposed Breda.
"Hey. Why me? No."
"You were more fun when you were more timid, Fuery," accused Breda.
"Sorry. But, NO!"
"Maybe Falman has read something on the subject and has an idea," offered Havoc.
"This is just an impossible and impossibly stupid wager. We may as well forget about it," suggested Breda.
"No," insisted Havoc. "I trust my instincts."
"Oh, yeah. Your instincts are so trustworthy, Havoc, and that is sarcasm, in case you didn't figure it out," muttered Breda.
"Everything is going well for Mustang professionally. It has got to be his sex life. Since he can always get the girls, it must be that he can't… do the girls."
"Can we please change the subject?" whined Fuery.
"It might not be sex," posed Breda. "It could be his alchemy. What about his aunt's health? Maybe he has a non-sex-related health issue."
"I can tell by the look in his eyes. You know, this could be a fantastic opportunity for us," Havoc wheedled.
"How?" demanded Breda.
"Well, he might try to avoid situations where he is doomed to fail. That leaves the ladies dateless."
"Wishful thinking, Havoc!" This from Fuery.
"Or, maybe he'll go out more and try harder, so to speak," snickered Breda. "Oh, what the hell am I even saying? Your theory is insane."
"Oh, no! I left The Book on my desk!" yelled Fuery.
"I guess that lunch is over," sighed Breda, gazing lovingly at his pudding.
-xoxoxoxo-
"I feel so guilty about this. It smacks of favoritism, Hawkeye."
"I know. You didn't have to ask for it."
"It's just that if I have to wait to be- I don't want to say "Fuhrer"- leader of Amestris, I don't want to wait for the… Thing."
"Neither do I. I want the Thing. You know that I want the Thing. And Grumman wants the Thing, too."
"I actually thought that he might just give his approval right then and there."
"You know him. He must have his reasons. I am still very hopeful, Sir." She looked around quickly and listened for footsteps. With all seeming clear, she reached out and ruffled his hair.
He took a chance and kissed the palm of her hand.
-xoxoxoxo-
The intrepid Jean Havoc called Falman at Briggs:
"There is no method that can gather empirical evidence to support such a hypothesis. I do not see how you can go forward with this wager," stated Vato.
Havoc thought that he heard statuesque blond laughter in the background.
Walking out the door at the end of the workday Fuery said, "Not that I want to enable you in this crazy quest, Havoc, but I am convinced that Hawkeye knows what the general is upset about."
Havoc's expression was both wide-eyed and contemplative. "You think that Mustang has experienced E.D. with Hawkeye?"
Breda and Fuery just shook their heads at what Havoc had taken from Fuery's words.
-xoxoxoxo-
The next day, having slept on it, Havoc decided that Fuery was correct. Hawkeye had and was the answer. But, how could he approach her? Had she looked in The Book? He knew that Hawkeye and Mustang were close, but could they be that close?
She was sitting at her desk, working as seriously as ever. He pulled his chair up next to hers and stretched his legs to steady himself.
"Can I help you, First Lieutenant Havoc?"
"Why be so formal, Captain? Aren't we friends?"
"Not if you are going to ask me anything about Erectile Dysfunction."
All Havoc could think was that's the kind of look that causes E.D.
Before Havoc could escape from his own web of stupidity, Mustang emerged from his office and flicked his eyes at his aide. He moved forward and she fell into step behind him as if it were choreographed. Neither said a word to their co-workers, but Hawkeye glanced back at Havoc as she passed out the door. As soon as they were a safe distance away, Breda, moving more swiftly than one could imagine, grabbed Havoc by the collar. "This is by far the dumbest thing that you have ever done!"
"So far," added Fuery.
Not much later, the brigadier general and the captain returned to a tensely quiet office. Mustang retreated to his inner sanctum, and Hawkeye advised the men that there would be a meeting in 10 minutes. She then joined Mustang behind the closed door.
-xoxoxoxo-
"Hawkeye tells me that you have noticed that I have been under some stress recently," said Roy, almost hesitantly. "It has been a difficult time, and I am grateful to Hawkeye for being supportive throughout. The situation affects her more than anyone, and she has been amazingly patient with me."
Breda felt the poke of Havoc's elbow.
"You are my oldest friends besides Hawkeye, and you deserve to know before it becomes public."
Public? Havoc felt the poke of Breda's elbow, but somehow remained in denial.
"You all know that Hawkeye and I had a meeting with Fuhrer Grumman a couple of weeks ago. At the meeting, we asked him to help us with a problem that we had."
Havoc smirked as if this was evidence supporting his theory. As if out of all of the people he knew, Mustang would approach the Fuhrer of Amestris to discuss the Problem.
"Today, he called and advised me that he had decided that, while the solution is unconventional and contrived and maybe even a little against regulations, he wants to help Hawkeye and me out."
Where was this going? Fuery and Breda watched their buddy closely.
"He is approving Hawkeye's transfer from my command to that of Major Miles."
Fuery turned to Hawkeye, looking almost hurt and teary. Breda stopped chewing. Havoc was trying to puzzle out exactly how Mustang's inadequacy would make Hawkeye request a transfer but stay close by.
"It's really just a technicality," Mustang continued. "Hawkeye's duties will remain basically the same, at least for the time being. While Major Miles answers to me here in Ishval, he is still under General Armstrong's command. Since Captain Hawkeye will no longer be in my chain, the fraternization rules will not apply, and she and I will be free to marry. Each other, that is." Roy smiled very sweetly at Hawkeye whose return smile lit up her face.
Fuery's near tears turned to near tears of joy. Breda swallowed and then broke into a big grin. Havoc looked like he had something on his mind.
Mustang looked directly at Havoc to say, "If you have any questions, Havoc, Hawkeye will answer them. However, if I were you, I'd choose my questions wisely.
Remembering the withering look that Hawkeye had given him earlier, Havoc took the advice to heart. "No questions, Sirs."
-xoxoxoxo-
A/N- Thank you for reading. I hope that you enjoyed. I'd love to hear what you think. Also, many thanks to the people who have favorited my stories over the past few months. It made me feel great. Take care.