One Week

One week, that was all it was going to take. One simple five-day workweek was all she needed to bare through to actually get something done. She had no idea how she had gotten into the mess at hand, but she didn’t say she exactly liked it. Recalling the event that led up to this… unpleasant matter, Riza Hawkeye’s eyes narrowed.

That no-good bastard was the one responsible for all this.

RRRR

It had been like any other Friday. Of course, those in the office were anxiously waiting for the weekend, the week longer than the others, or so it seemed. And, like usual, she was trying to get the colonel to stop complaining and actually sign some paperwork like he was supposed to. That’s when it all started.

Riza plopped the stack of papers down in front of the colonel, who happened to be napping. Roy Mustang didn’t seem as though he had been getting much sleep, even still, he should have been working. What was she supposed to do when someone wanted something by a certain date and she didn’t have it because he was too busy sleeping?

Angrily, she slammed her fist down on the desk and Mustang jolted out of slumber, leaning up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. He looked around in surprise, but then his eyes landed on his first lieutenant. “Oh, Hawkeye,” he said. “It’s you.”

She crossed her arms. “Nice nap, sir?” she asked. One could have considered that sarcasm, either that or insubordination.

Roy didn’t seem to have enough mental comprehension to say either way. “Yes?” he tried.

“Permission to speak freely sir,” she requested, chin up.

He shrugged. “You do anyway, but go ahead.”

“I must ask that you please get some work done, sir,” she voice raised. “It isn’t enough that these were due last week, but we’re not even done for the evening and I’m certain that the men would like to actually leave after a week like this one.”

Mustang adjusted his collar, reminded of the heat in the mid-summer. Not only that, but the cooling system had to break, and even with that they all had to wear their heavy uniforms. He chuckled. “Well, you don’t have to shout.”

Growling, Riza only took out her pistol, clicking it into place as she pointed it towards her commanding officer’s head.

RRRR

Maes Hughes was usually a lighthearted person. Hearing a series of gunshots, and then a bloodcurdling cry from his best friend’s office wasn’t a good sign--especially when he walked in and the lieutenant was missing from sight. Fuery seemed to jump and drop the papers he held, Havoc falling off his chair that he’d been leaning back in. Breda and Falman didn’t seem to be in sight.

“HAWKEYE! Are you trying to kill me!” came Roy Mustang’s pleading cry.

The Lieutenant Colonel sighed. “At it again, are they?” he asked.

Havoc chuckled as he got up, placing his chair back in upright position. “I don’t see why they can’t get married and get it over with,” he said as he lit another cigarette.

“It’s called the rules,” Fuery replied, picking up all his scattered papers. “And if that was possible, the lieutenant would be wearing a skirt by now.”

Maes chuckled. “Not to mention Roy would be dead by now," he sighed. "Let’s see the damage this time, shall we?”

Going over to the door, he opened it to find Riza Hawkeye putting back her pistol before crossing her arms. In a circle around where the colonel’s head would have been, if he’d been sitting in his chair, were a series of bullet holes. Mustang, it seemed, was hiding behind his desk, his head seen from the over the top.

“It got you up, didn’t it sir?” Hawkeye asked, eyes narrowing.

Roy burst up, and pointed to the woman standing in the corner. “That is way below insubordination, lieutenant colonel!” he exclaimed, speaking to Hughes. “It was attempted murder.”

“Oh, come off it, Roy, you two go through this every week, maybe every day,” Maes said, then cheerfully changed his tune. "All the more lovely reason why you should work harder to become Furher.”

Mustang raised an eyebrow in suspicion, Hawkeye staying quiet. “Why?”

“So you can change the rules, and you two can finally get married and settle this outside the office!”

Both of them almost fell over, Riza finding her composure first, clearing her throat with a reddened face. Mustang was still pollaxed in the background. “You must be mistaken, sir,” she said, not looking at him directly. "That doesn't seem in any way possible."

“That would simply take a miracle,” Roy agreed. “I mean, Hawkeye is not my type, Maes.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. “He prefers miniskirt wearing bimbos compared to someone as strict and unfeminine as me,” she agreed, almost sarcastically as she looked to Hughes.

Mustang smiled, but then blinked with realization. His eyes narrowed. “Was that an insult, lieutenant?”

“Merely an observation sir.”

“Who asked for it?”

“You clearly gave me permission to speak freely, sir,” Hawkeye pointed out, harshly looking at him with the smallest of grins.

Hughes chuckled. “Have to hand it to her there, Roy,” he said, smiling.

“Is this a bad time to ask about the paperwork?” Fuery asked innocently looking between everyone.

That seemed to strike a cord as Riza looked over to her commanding officer again. “And, on that matter, who says that I would marry someone like the colonel anyway?” she asked, closing her eyes with a chuckle. “He doesn’t do his work here, so who says as a husband he won’t do anything… important when it comes to that department.” She glanced downwards on the colonel's form, before her eyes flickered away.

The men in the room flinched, Havoc and Fuery glancing at each other nervously. Maes laughed nervously as Roy gapped at his subordinate, shaking his head to clear it before coming over in front of her.

“Hawkeye! That was very much a blow below the belt!” he exclaimed, brow wrinkled.

Havoc chuckled, leaning over to Fury. “Literally.”

“I did give you permission to speak freely, but who says that you can say such a thing?” he asked, but then calmed and looked up in thought, and turned to his best friend. “Not that she would make a very good housewife, Maes, just so you know. She doesn’t even own a skirt.”

Riza’s brow twitched. “I disagree, sir.”

Mustang blinked as he looked at her again. “You do? With what?”

“I own quite a few skirts, sir,” she said, matter-of-fact-ly as she looked up at him. “I just don’t wear them.”

Roy turned to back to Hughes, gesturing to his lieutenant in exaggeration. “See? I ask her repeatedly for her to wear them and what does she do? Hold back.”

Maes only looked over to the two behind him, both seemingly smug. “This should be good,” Havoc whispered.

Growling, Hawkeye simply sent a bullet in his direction. All three of them jumped, Fuery and Havoc ducking down, before silencing as Riza turned back to Mustang. “If I did wear one, sir, would you at least attempt your work?” she asked dully, her pistol resting on her shoulder.

Roy seemed to be thinking for a moment as she looked at him. Then, with a smile, he nodded. “Of course, Hawkeye. But, that's only if you wear one around the office, and seeing as though you really have no reason to…”

“One week.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“One week sir,” she repeated. “I wear a skirt and heels everyday for one week, and you do your paperwork.”

Mustang looked over to the audience, all three of them looking at each other. Fuery seemed a little distressed, and Havoc was bouncing on his feet with joy. Hughes seemed only to have the most delighted of looks on his face, something hidden behind his smile. Roy looked back to Riza and then around, seemingly for an answer.

“Is that some kind of deal?” he asked cautiously.

“Do you accept?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t have to, you know. But then, if I didn't, you wouldn’t have to do your work. I expect something for me showing a little leg.”

Again, Roy looked at the men. Fuery was first to speak. “I don’t think—.”

Instantly, Havoc covered his mouth. “Splendid idea sir, terrific!” he exclaimed, holding back the younger man in a strangle hold. “Best thing to happen to this office, ever!”

Hughes didn’t have anything to say at first. But then he shrugged as his friend looked at him. “By all means, Roy, agree.”

Mustang cleared his throat. “Let me get this straight,” he started. “You wear a skirt, I do work.” She nodded. “I don’t work, you don’t wear the skirt." Again, there was a nod. "And if you don’t wear the skirt, I don’t have to do work.”

“Yes,” she said. “Exactly. Starting Monday next week, I will wear one everyday--if you accept.”

“A miniskirt?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms. “Yes, sir,” she drawled weekly. “And stockings, if you so desire.”

In the corner, Havoc was nodding his head so much, Mustang was afraid he might hurt himself. Not to mention it looked like he was strangling Fuery. Clearing his throat, Roy grinned. “Alright, Hawkeye. It looks like you’ve got yourself a deal.”

RRRR

And that was how she wound up in a miniskirt to work.