A/N: I apologize for the spam of chapters on the first day. I started posting these to my tumblr (justanotherfmablog) and wanted to get caught up to today, which is supposed to be Day 3. But hey, at least you get a couple chapters at once! I sincerely hope you enjoy this! This one is centered around some good ol' Roy and Maes drinking! :)

Roy Mustang loved a lot of things about his best friend. He did not, however, love the man's ability to get him to drink an obscene amount of liquor. That was the only reason Roy was out on a Saturday night, halfway through a bottle of some very strong spiced rum.

"Okay. Three things."

Roy looked at his friend through a slight haze. "What?"

Maes set down his glass, grinning at the dark haired alchemist. "If you could get three wishes, anything you could possibly dream of, what would they be?"

"We are not playing this game, Hughes."

"Okay, fine, I'll go first. Wish number 1: I would wish to have the most beautiful wife in the world."

Roy scoffed. "You mean Gracia? The woman you're already married to?"

Maes laughed, slapping Roy on the back. "Engaged, my friend! We're only engaged! I wish that I could already be married to her! There's still a chance some swaggering guy could kidnap her and trick her into falling in love with him. No ideas, Mustang, you hear?"

The fellow soldier rolled his eyes. "Deal."

Maes elbowed him. "Soo, what's your first wish?"

Roy thought it over for a moment and smirked. "Easy. I would want to be Fuhrer."

Hughes poured them each another glass and nodded. "Well that much is obvious. My second wish would be an open bar in Central just for me. Free alcohol, all the time. That would be amazing."

The Flame Alchemist laughed, slinging an arm around his friend. "Only if the bar was full of beautiful women – in mini skirts. Shirts optional. That would be my second wish."

The fellow officer elbowed him in the ribs, laughing in return. "Well my third wish would be for you to find a damn wife already. You'll never make it to Fuhrer if you can't settle down."

"Riza."

Maes Hughes choked on his drink, his eyes wide. "What?"

Roy paused, recalling that thinking often preceded speaking. Dammit Maes, this is why I don't go out to drink with you.

"My third wish would be for Lieutenant Hawkeye to quit hounding me with paperwork. The damn woman never leaves me alone. I'd be a helluva lot happier without her always behind me."

Maes gave his friend a look that was both suspicious and apologetic. Roy finished another drink, hoping the images of a particular blonde woman would leave him alone. He didn't dare talk any further about the woman he had considered his right hand man, his other half, his Queen. Maes discreetly switched to safer topics. Roy was grateful for the change. The rum had already swept his imagination far away from the lighthearted conversation with his best friend. It was hard enough for Roy to try to ignore the sudden images of his Lieutenant waking up in his bed every morning without the fear of a court martial.

Later that night, in the privacy of his own apartment, he would see the ghost of her at his kitchen stove, making peach cobbler, or sitting at the table, cleaning her handguns with well-practiced precision. He would blearily mistake his military jacket for hers and pretend that it wasn't his own distinct male scent that lingered on the clothing. He would wonder, in his alchemical way, what he would have to exchange in order to get his unspoken wish. What would the gods equivocate to the feel of kissing her with reckless abandon? How would they measure the energy he felt surge through him when their hands brushed against each other? What would he have to sacrifice for the chance at a real future with the woman he could not survive without? Just this once, in the darkness of his silent apartment, he could admit it to himself. His world was spinning, but he had accepted this truth.

Roy knew, without a doubt, he would pay it. No matter what the price.