A/N: So, when can I pick up my award for being the worst updater of all mankind? Because I think I've won that by now. I picked a horrible time of year to do this (hello familial obligations while I'm only in town for 8 days! whoo!). I will be posting a lot of the days in rapid succession in the next 72 hours. Don't judge me I love you all.

He was in a mood again. Jean Havoc was busy laying out a new round of documents to be printed when the colonel stalked in, all storm clouds and spilled milk. Immediately, Havoc looked around the room to find her. With growing dismay, he realized Lieutenant Hawkeye was nowhere to be found. "Good morning, Colonel," he greeted as cheerfully as he could. Mustang barely registered that the blonde was speaking to him, sitting down at his desk with much more force than was really necessary.

Breda and Falman, who were also sitting at their desks, exchanged nervous glances. They already knew better than to comment on their superior's foul mood. They likely wouldn't get any kind of response from him for a better part of the morning. Breda caught Havoc's attention, mouthing a quick "Where's the Lieutenant?" to him. Havoc shrugged, rolling his unlit cigarette in his mouth. It was unusual for the sharpshooter to be this late. Briefly, he wondered if she had anything to do with Mustang's latest brooding fest. Either way, they all kept their heads low and tried to continue living for the rest of the day.

It wasn't until Mustang left to go to the restroom that the trio started planning. "We need Hawkeye," Breda remarked, tapping his pen against his desk. Falman nodded. "She just has to point her gun at him and he falls right back in line," he added.

"Point her gun at him? She can stop him just by touching his shoulder. It's a gift," Havoc interjected.

"Or, like, have you ever noticed when she calls him sir? Sometimes it sounds like she's calling Black Hayate instead of the Colonel."

All three of the guys laughed. "He's just as obedient, though."

"Well, it's no wonder. Her glare is enough to temper him. I swear she can be scarier when she's completely silent."

"Sometimes, all it takes is her just being in the room and he's like putty. I'm pretty sure she puts something in his coffee. It's impressive how it only takes like, 5 steps for her to tame the Mustang."

"Have we finished gossiping, ladies? If I recall, this is the office and you're supposed to be working."

Somehow, Havoc, Breda, and Falman had completely missed the fact that Mustang had made his way back into the office. To say they were terrified was an understatement. To say they wished nothing more than for Hawkeye to be there was an even bigger one. They shrank back to their paperwork, praying to whatever higher power would keep them alive one more day. Hopefully that higher power would walk in the door as soon as possible.

Two hours into what had to be the most painfully long work day Havoc could recall, the phone rang. Specifically, Mustang's phone. He picked it up, barking a greeting into the receiver. Out of the corner of his eye, Havoc saw the older man's forehead lose its angry crease. He sighed with relief. It could only be one person on the other end.

"Fine. I expect you here within the hour with a full report."

Mustang hung up the phone, staring at it for a few moments before realizing he was being watched. "Can I help you, Havoc?" he snapped, and with a quick shake of his head, Havoc went back to work. The angry sound of a poor, overworked stapler was the only sound in the office. The sooner the Lieutenant got here, the sooner this day of hell would be over. So the countdown began.

When Lieutenant Hawkeye entered 45 minutes later, pristine and orderly, the palpable tension in the room seemed to dissipate. Although he did a remarkable job concealing it, Mustang straightened and directed his laser focus on the woman. She greeted the other men in the office, who all seemed a little too pleased at her presence. "Good morning, Colonel," she greeted primly, pulling a packet of papers out of her notebook. Their eyes met for a brief moment as he took them from her.

People often speculated about the nature of their relationship. It was nothing new – the pair had drawn criticism and scrutiny for years. Watching the silent exchange between them, Havoc was only too aware of how close they were. They never breached their professional composures. There were no accidental brushes of hands or looks that lasted too long. But there was something almost magneticabout how they worked together. It took a single look from his Lieutenant, and the stress that bunched his shoulders up to his ears ebbed away. The tight-lipped alchemist relaxed like a cat uncurling in a bright patch of sunlight.

There was no doubt they loved each other. The entire team knew it. Havoc was just impressed that they could keep their interactions so cordial and impassive. He wondered if there was anything that could make them break –

There was a loud clatter and everyone jumped as Colonel Mustang simultaneously dropped his mug and spit coffee all over his desk. Jean Havoc had never seen the man blush, so when his face turned red like a pepper, Havoc was speechless. Mustang looked over at Hawkeye, holding onto the report she had given him. She returned the stare with mild confusion. "Something wrong, sir?" she asked respectfully, tilting her head.

It was Mustang's quick look around the room that got the other occupants suspicious. "N-No, nothing's wrong, Lieutenant." He set the papers aside and stood to grab something to clean everything up. Breda was in the middle of mouthing something to Havoc when he was distracted by Hawkeye. She was smiling. It was small and almost unnoticeable, but there was a particularly devious quirk of her lips that incited quite a bit of curiosity in the Second Lieutenant. He made a meaningful look at Falman, angling the pen meaningfully towards the thoroughly miffed Colonel. Falman looked put out, but stood up. "Sir, let me help you," he offered, grabbing a handful of tissues and walking over to the man's desk. Mustang was trying to retrieve the broken pieces of the mug from under his desk.

"Th-That's not necessary, Falman! I'll take care of it!" Mustang called out, nearly leaping out from underneath the desk as the officer began moving papers and wiping everything down. Hawkeye was also standing, her eyes trained on the papers in Falman's hands. "Don't worry, Falman, I'm sure the Colonel can handle himself. It's just a little spilled coffee.

There was an awkward pause between them and Falman set the papers down. "Absolutely, Lieutenant. I'm sure he can handle himself fine." Without another word, the information specialist returned to his seat, a familiar heat crawling up his neck. Any of Havoc or Breda's attempts to get his attention for the rest of the morning was pointless. He had no intention of looking at anyone else in the room. Hawkeye and Mustang, coincidentally, were also rather quiet.

It wasn't until later that evening when Falman would break the news that their superior officer had received quite an explicit review of Lieutenant Hawkeye's morning. The few sentences he had managed to read before a coffee-stained flame alchemist scared him into submission were enough to make Falman sweat. There was a small part of him that would never be able to look at the blonde sharpshooter quite the same. Especially not after he started reading about what she was hoping would be cocked and loaded that night.

The next day, no one spoke about the 'report' that everyone knew about. Decorum returned, as usual, and they tried their best to pretend that nothing had happened. Havoc may have made a few subtle jokes, but only when he knew no one was close enough to shoot him or light him on fire. After all, in exchange for their mutual silence, Havoc had to make fun of the 6th way Riza Hawkeye could tame the Mustang.