I was encouraged to write this in response to the FMA movie. Ultra-crack, slight hyphen abuse, 100 word drabble, I’m sorry to any and all who may be offended. And dear god no, I don’t own any of the characters involved.

Gee, my disclaimer’s almost the size of the fic.

Winry’s fingertips sternly rapped the questing hand near her thigh. Jacket unbuttoned, hair mussed, he sprawled across the floor below her, reaching again as she spoke. “Both of them left me here. Alone. But she –” She gestured towards Hawkeye, seated behind them with nearly-bare legs crossed high – “Says you behave. That you’ll make me feel better. Can you do that?”

Roy nodded. Behavior was relative. “Yes, m’am!”

Because if she decided to make him crawl, he’d be in a better position to look up her skirt.

“Told you he’d enjoy it,” Riza snorted.

No. Mini-skirt.

He could handle that.