A bit more reviews than I'm used to getting, lmao, I got 7 reviews within the first two hours of posting this chapter up, so I'm impressed with the chaos that the last chapter created. Thank you ALL for the reviews and I'm sorry I couldn't individually respond to each review as I traditionally do, but, as a general message: I'm super glad you guys loved that last chapter and I loved the reception and attention. It made me feel all warm inside. :)

So I noticed that one of the recurring questions that kept coming up over and over again was:

How did Mustang get into Hawkeye's place—and after that, her bed? The logistics don't make sense, do they? Hawkeye's place is a nice securely locked in home and Hawkeye is way too attentive to let anything (perhaps anyone is the better word here) be in her house without her knowing.

Now normally, I'd brush all this off and use my poetic license to say: Well, this is fanfiction, and I can create whatever I want. In fact, I can even have Mustang rip off his face mask to reveal that it was actually Armstrong, have Hayate turn into a Soul Reaper, and have Hawkeye pull a Chidori while the night stars fall and turn into Contractors, all in the same instant that Harry Potter sneezes before you, the reader, wakes up and realizes that all of the above was just a dream and that you had just been incepted by Arthur!—because I can as an author.

But, alas, I guess I should more aptly explain the process of how Mustang got into Hawkeye's home—err, bed. There were several ways that he could have done this, and I can start to list the possibilities with which he had done this, but I don't know for sure because I'm not the one sneaking into Hawkeye's bed, it's Mustang that's doing everything. (You know how sometimes the characters you make just get out of control and do things you don't expect them to do.)

I mean, come on, I'm just an author trying to make a living! All I do is tell the story! I don't know what my characters do beyond that! (*continues the rant to push aside the question for later*)

"—and he actually needs me."

letscuttothechase

"You're staying late today, Colonel?" Hawkeye asked him, as he was sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously at a small piece of paper.

"Wait a moment, please, Lieutenant," Mustang said, jotting a few more things before standing up and joining Hawkeye at the door.

"Ready now?" she teased.

"No, I wanted to tell you before you left," Mustang said. "Happy birthday, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"And also that as you close another year of you being here, that another year begins where you can continue to shine your radiance on this world and shower your kindness on all of us here…uh, that since these many years ago that I first met you and all that time that's elapsed in between I've found you more and more valuable to me, and I'm so glad that you'll be here with…me...a little longer…uh…"

Mustang whipped out the little note paper he had been writing on earlier, and read, "And to me, a happy birthday to you means not only another year of you, but also, another year of you and me."

Mustang gave Hawkeye a sheepish smile. "It sounds better on paper."

A genuine smile broke through across her face.

"Thank you, Colonel," she said. "It meant enough, coming from you."

They stood there a while, awkwardly before Hawkeye dismissed herself.

Mustang could only bask in the afterglow of her words.

Anyways, the point is, there are millions of ways that Mustang could have gotten into Hawkeye's bed.

And I just challenge you, yes you, the reader, to tell me how Mustang got there.

Make me laugh so that my sides split open and that one of my designated friends has to post the last chapter because of my roflmao-ing death.

Don't be intimated, I'm not that difficult to crack up and my sense of humour stretches wide and broad, from stupid idiotic nonsense to crude cynical satire.

Bring it. Show that review button what you're made of.

I might be able to promise the winner (and slightly smaller for all the participants) some portion of my will from that roflmao-ing death.

I hope you've also unfortunately noticed that Hawkeye's sentence ended a few dividers up there.

thir13enth