A/N: Did I say one more chapter? I meant three. But you know what? I'm finishing this sooner rather than later b/c I'm committed. Fanfic writing is turning me into a maladaptive daydreamer, but I'm going down with this ship.

Chapter 4

The fairgrounds really were enthralling, the kind of place that Roy would have loved as a child. String lights softly lit the alley of booths, swaying back and forth with the late crisp autumn breeze. The sweet, aroma of fried dough wafted past the young man tempting him like a cruel mistress to go for a second funnel cake. And over tidbits of fast-paced conversation from dozens of passing fair-goers, ambient shrieks and squeals sounded from the nearby carnival rides. Their lights spun and twinkled in the distance, completing the ambiance.

A family of three passed Roy, and for a moment he imagined himself in place of the little sandy-haired boy of six or seven swinging carelessly between the arms of his parents. Of course, the memory was false. Aunt Christine was a night owl by necessity, a veritable predator of vice who had little time for folly of her own. A consuming schedule was par for the course as the proprietor of a successful casino, and Roy knew there had been little time for happy family memories considering the hustle of bustle of such a volatile business. Yet, even as a small child, Roy knew he was lucky to be with family at all.

Better yet, his mind's eye rearranged the pieces of the man's face to reflect his own, and Roy pictured raven pigtails with blue ribbons in place of the crew cut. If ever he had a family like that he vowed to take his child to a fair, to buy her funnel cakes dusted with powdered sugar and walk hand-in-hand well past bedtime. The gender of the child wouldn't even matter; he only hoped for light brown eyes, the color of warm honey, unfair though the thought was. Roy only knew one person with eyes like that.

A tall figure with stringy jet-black hair brushed past Roy, intentionally clipping his shoulder with brute force behind the seemingly incidental contact. Pulled from his reverie, Roy stumbled back a pace and glanced with intensity at the familiar figure before him. His long face beset with severe features and a maniacal smile nearly knocked the wind from Roy's belly.

"You," Roy managed with an accusatory glare.

"Oh come now, Cadet Captain Mustang," Kimblee all but purred, arms outstretched in mock humility. "Is that any way to greet an old ROTC buddy?"

"It's cadet major now," Roy spat with no small amount of vanity. "And I don't see any friends around here, only a cockroach that got lucky and avoided a court-martial by turning tail."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Kimblee darkly chuckled. "Still no manners, I see. But if not friends, what shall we call ourselves? Conspirators? Bedfellows? My silence for yours, remember?"

Roy bit his tongue. That was the deal. "I've said nothing. And if you're still honoring your end of the bargain, you'll leave."

"I will hold up my end of things. In fact, I was just stopping by to visit the old team and see this kissing booth for myself. Make nice and put on a show for old time's sake. But imagine my surprise when I saw Hawkeye sitting so prettily under that sign. She seems well. That back of hers, whatever you did to it, looks fully healed." Kimblee's head angled down, shadows exaggerated his fiendish grin.

"Nothing about her to anyone," Roy growled. His hands balled into a fist, poised to strike at a moment's notice.

Goad him though Kimblee would, Roy remained silent. He didn't care if the son of a bitch thought he was the one to hurt Riza. It had been an accident, Professor Hawkeye's accident. Roy had only cleaned up the mess and tended to her wounds while they healed, but the then-cadet captain had gotten careless one evening, and Kimblee saw something he ought not to have. Discovery would have cost Berthold his good name as well as what remained of his sanity.

"So tense," Kimblee chided. "There's is nothing in our agreement about a kiss. In fact, I've already visited the pavilion and asked them to start the bidding at $200. I suppose with that amount I could get a whole lot more than a kiss. Your aunt would be the expert on such things. You don't mind, do you, Roy? It's for a good cause, after all."

Roy minded, but he swallowed his unkind thoughts as his aunt had taught him to do. Whatever Kimblee had to say about his Aunt Christine, it was probably accurate, if not the full truth. And this was far from the first time someone had the gall to belittle her. Let them talk, Aunt Christine often told him, and listen to what they say.

"The auction is for the 'final kiss of the night,' is it not?" Roy asked. "There's no guarantee it'll be Cadet Hawkeye. I'm afraid you're wasting your money."

"Oh, Roy. This is what I've missed about you," Kimblee offered. "You may have the rank I wanted, but you can't have her. And however you choose to address Miss Hawkeye, you do want her. Everyone knows it. But thanks to you and that transfer, I can have her. Do you think she'll want me, Mustang?"

It was all provocation from this point; Roy knew that and held fast to that fact to strengthen his resolve. Coldclocking Kimblee in the jaw would create more problems than it would solve, but damn it would feel good. For the second time that night, Roy turned on his heel to leave. He could almost feel Kimblee's sadistic smirk boring into the back of his skull.

Roy's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he wasted no time in retrieving it. The text from Breda was as a simple as it was foreboding. Meet at the back of the booth. Maes said you were right.

...

"I was just starting to have a good time," Cadet Edward Elric bemoaned. The buff blonde of somewhat below average stature kicked a rock in protest, sending it hurling into a patch of brush. "Leave it to Major Buzzkill and his sidekick Colonel Selfie to interrupt my date because of a stupid summons. And I have no idea why he asked for you… or why you agreed to come for that matter." Edward directed his last statement at a tall figure to his immediate right bearing distinctly Xingese appearance.

"Poor Winry," Ling said with a playful tone. "The bar must be set pretty low if she considers greasy food and jerky rides that cause vomiting a date." Ling laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back with a yawn. "And I'm here because you asked me to come. It seemed like a better alternative than wandering around aimlessly until Mei and Alphonse were done riding that large wheel thing over there."

Ed bristled at his friend's comments. "Geez, you could at least try to appreciate our culture, Young Lord."

"Oh I do," Ling responded. He turned his attention to the petite, curvy figure to his right. Her hair remained tied up in its customary bun with loose bangs framing her heart-shaped face. She wore a dark green A-line dress with tights and boots that Ling noticeably admired. "Lan Fan looks lovely in western style clothing. I shall miss it when we go back to Xing for the winter break. Father insists on traditional dress at the estate. A bodyguard's ceremonial robes do nothing for her figure."

Ed rolled his eyes as Lan Fan blushed under Ling's steady gaze. She never responded to her charge's advances, at least not in any way an outsider could decipher, but the trio wasn't given long to ponder Lan Fan's customary silence. Three figures clad in blue uniforms made their way to the back of the booth.

"Where's Al?" Breda asked in lieu of a greeting.

"He's with Winry and Mei," Ed offered. "We didn't want to leave them all alone. I can fill him in on anything he needs to know. I got Ling for you though."

"Excellent," Maes said, reaching for Ling's hand. While the gesture was still unfamiliar to the Xingese aristocrat, Ling accepted the greeting gingerly, and Maes shook his hand with gusto. "Nice to see you again, Yao. I know this is out of the blue, but I was hoping you'd help us with a little problem we've run into. You've met Cadets Hawkeye and Breda, and Cadet Major Mustang should be along any minute."

"Yes," Ling interjected, retrieving his hand from Mae's firm grip. Beside Ling, Lan Fan stirred. "And you know my bodyguard, Lan Fan?"

The cadet lieutenant colonel warmly extended his arm toward Lan Fan but was met with a stony-faced expression followed by a formal bow of the head. "The Young Lord should return to his residence for the evening, but if he insists on helping you, I am also at your service," she said succinctly. Maes let his hand fall back to his side with a shrug and a smile.

"Well then maybe we should get to it, can't wait for Roy fore… Oh good."

"Sorry I'm late," Roy said. His face still flushed from the heated exchange with Kimblee. The cadet major locked eyes with Riza and though her expression was largely unreadable, the subtle knit of her eyebrows spoke volumes. "What happened?"

"Yeah," Ed piped up. "What's so important that it couldn't wait until Monday?"

"Kimblee," Maes provided. "He left our program and transferred to Briggs State on less than friendly terms. Suffice it to say we have reason to believe he's going to cause trouble at the auction tonight. I'd like to deprive him of that opportunity with Ling's help, of course."

"Go on." Ling nodded with mild intrigue.

"It's simple. We're auctioning off the last kiss of the night. Proceeds go to charity and all that so it would be a bad look to back out now. We've agreed to put forth a male and female candidate. Riza's our only woman at the moment, and Kimblee's made his position clear. He wants to lock lips with Cadet Hawkeye, and she doesn't like that idea."

"This is silly, don't you think?" Ed interrupted with hands crossed over his chest. "Hawkeye can just go home. We'll give 'em two guys, say sorry and Kimblee will be out of luck unless he wants to French Breda."

Breda was not amused. "Bite me, Elric."

"No," Riza exclaimed, her hands curled into fists by her side. Roy sensed something uncompromising in her posture, almost reminiscent of her father. "That's what he wants. He... he left me a warning," she said carefully. "Why else would he threaten when he could just keep quiet, show up and bid. This is all about intimidation, and I won't run away like he did. We're better than that."

"I agree," said a small, almost melodic voice from beside Ling. The group's collective head turned to stare at the uncharacteristically forthcoming young woman. "What," she said defensively. "She's right. If she backs out now he'll know he got to her."

"That's all well and good," Ling interjected, "but what does this have to do with me?"

Maes grinned. "If Riza's determined to stay, I say we stack the deck in our favor. No one from Central's ROTC can bid because of the anti-frat regs, but you can, Ling. And even though Kimblee's folks are loaded, I bet a Xingese aristocrat carries around a fair amount of cash."

Ling smirked. "You might be right about that."

"And you don't mind kissing Ling?" Roy asked, eyes fixed on Riza. She smiled kindly back at him.

"No, I don't, Cadet Major Mustang," she replied with a small shake of her head and a sad smile. "If he doesn't mind kissing me."

"What do you think Lan Fan?" Ling said leaning toward his bodyguard. "Do I mind kissing Riza and blowing some of father's money for a good cause?"

Though seconds earlier the Xingese warrior had been a beckon of sisterly affirmation, her attitude sharpened, and she all but withdrew Ling's shadow. When she spoke, she did so with eyes cast downward, unwilling to meet her charge's gaze. "It not my place to say who you do and do not kiss," she said softly, almost regretfully.

"Alrighty then," Maes rallied. "It's a plan."

A/N: As always, favorite, follows and comments are amazing. The people who leave them are equally amazing people. So be amazing. Tell me what you liked, and even what you didn't. Join me in this maladaptive daydreaming that we call fanfiction. Happy reading!