And one more chapter after this one! A bit late with this one, but I'll finish up later today or tomorrow. :D Got caught up writing another story that struck my inspiration.

-Frilly Dress Friday-

"Dude, what was up with you yesterday? Why'd you have to announce it to the world like that?"

Mustang didn't look back at Havoc. "I just thought Hawkeye would be cold."

"Well you could have just told her in person—you didn't have to tell the entire world that you were suggesting it!" Havoc exclaimed. "What were you trying to accomplish there?"

"Nothing," Mustang answered, irked. "Nothing. I don't know."

"Just don't make it so obvious that you're up to no good! Otherwise we're all going to get busted!"

"Yeah, yeah," Mustang said, shooing Havoc off.

Havoc added another question before Mustang could push him away. "Today's the last day, isn't it, Colonel?"

"What gives?"

"Well, I have to make the best of today so…I brought cameras!"

"You what?!" Mustang asked, legitimately bewildered.

"Oh good morning, Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

Hawkeye?!

Mustang turned around, seeing Fuery greeting Hawkeye emphatically. Fuery and Hawkeye got into a lighthearted discussion about something Mustang could not hear about from all the way on the other side of the room.

Suddenly Fuery held Hawkeye by the waist—Mustang stood up in panic!—and turned around to smile at the camera that Havoc had conveniently brought out at that moment.

Mustang saw the smiles and the photo flash. And he was not happy.

After the click of the shutter and the flash, everyone in the office looked up and decided to join in the selfies-with-Hawkeye party.

Mustang was not amused. He made his way towards the festivities.

"Quiet!"

This broke the commotion. All the military personnel immediately turned to salute him—not wanting to be burnt to crisp with a snap of the colonel's fingers. "Colonel, sir!"

"Sorry to break the spirit, but please return to your desks and continue work," he commanded, in particular, looking Fuery and Havoc straight in the eye.

"And Lieutenant Hawkeye," Mustang said, rather stiffly, and almost in a whisper.

She acknowledged him, frills and all. "Sir?"

"Do you mind if we step outside to talk for a moment?"

She nodded, watching the constrained temper on his face. They moved outside of the office room, into the hallway outside.

"Hawkeye, could you please…change out of the dress and come back with in your uniform?"

"…It's the General's orders, sir."

"I…I don't care," Mustang finally said. "It's very…distracting."

Hawkeye looked down at the magenta frills. "Oh…does it look bad?"

"No, no, no no no, that's not what I mean. It…it doesn't matter—just please go back and change!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "This isn't what I wanted!"

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "Sorry…did you say, what you wanted?"

Well...someone's going to pay the price tomorrow...

thir13enth