OH MY GOD I'M BACK! With the best couple ever, except not exactly in this one, but w-h-a-t-e-v-e-r. AND with my longest drabble! Right now, I'm in English, and I'm so tired that I'm getting dizzy spells, so if you see any mistakes, please tell me, and I'll fix 'em pronto. Side note: I love this class 'cause we can make coffee.

Disclaimer: I have a boyfriend, I'm full, and I'm tired. I have homework piled to my eyebrows. I don't think I'd even want to own Fullmetal Alchemist at this point.

Inspired by a bit of magnetic poetry. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to get about six more out of the poems that me and my friend's girlfriend put together. This one was "because you're looking kiss me," and before anyone says it, yeah, it didn't turn out how I thought it would, either.

Five hundred words: Assistance

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"Hey."

Jean looked up from his book, dark rings under bloodshot eyes like negatives of the crescent moon. He smiled. "Evening, Kain." And returned to his text.

With a frown, Kain marched indignantly until he stood in front of the second lieutenant. "Hey!"

"What?" Jean sighed, sounding exasperated. Hawkeye had held him literally at gunpoint in order to get him to finish his paperwork instead of his nap, and he had really wanted to finish that nap. And now, when all he wanted was a little bit of Jean time, reading a book and polishing off a pack of smokes, here was Sergeant Major Annoying and his cryptic "hey"s.

Not that Jean didn't love the kid to bits – he was normally quite enamored with Kain, but this evening, it was a bit much.

Whimpering, Kain said, "Nothing," and sat beside him on the old couch. And he was pouting. Now that's just playing dirty, Jean thought with a tired smirk.

He shut the book on his finger, marking his place, and turned to face his buddy, who was darting tentative glances in Jean's direction every now and again, almost like he was expecting a reprimand or chastising. "What's on your mind?"

He took a deep breath. "D'you…d'you think anyone'd…y'know…uh, love me?" he asked, finishing in a squeak.

"Like who? Got anyone in mind?" Jean asked. He reached over for the last cigarette in his pack, and as he lit it, Kain nodded. "Well, who is she?"

"Uhm…" Kain fidgeted. "It's, uhm, kind of not a she," he hedged.

Jean let out a cloud of blue smoke and fixed Kain with a blank stare that said very frankly, And? "So who is he, then?"

"Uhm, well, uh, I…Colonel Mustang," Kain blurted.

Jean almost choked on smoke and, dropped his cigarette. It began smoldering in the carpet before he realized what he had done and bent quickly to pick it up. He hit is head on the bottom of the coffee table on his way up and cursed. "No use," he said with a wince, rubbing the back of his head.

"What?"

"No use," he repeated patiently. "Either he's wrapped up in Hawkeye or one of the Elric brothers – hell if I know which. 'Sides, he's way out of your league."

Kain drew himself up. "I could get him!"

Jean snorted.

"What?"

"Guys like me'n you gotta settle for second-best when guys like Mustang're around." Jean laughed with – what was that, bitterness? – in his voice.

"What's second-best, then?" Kain asked, drawing his legs up. Jean had to admire the kid's tenacity.

Jean seemed to ponder. After a moment, he said, "You." Exhale. "Me. We're second-best with Mustang around." He inspected what was left of his cigarette boredly. "And that's that."

"Oh." Kain sighed and stood. "Thanks anyway." He turned to leave, head drooping.

"Hey," Jean called.

"What?"

"All you have to do is ask." Jean winked, opened his book, extinguished his cigarette, and let a very perplexed Kain Fuery show himself out.