A/N: So this is one of those ideas that hits you at 3 a.m., and you can't get up and write it because you're roommates would pull a Hawkeye and shoot you in the head for turning everything on and typing at that hour, and it bugs you and BUGS YOU until you just write the stupid thing the next day! I don't usually write such run-ons, I PROMISE! There are going to be more where this comes from, but I will need some ideas eventually, so it's up to you! You want more, please review.
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA . . . and I think Spades 44 and fireun own the Havoc/Fury pairing.
Warnings: Implied shonen-ai, general OOC-ness, and lack of plot. No spoilers, though.
So, the annual psychological exam for all the military personnel didn't go so well. Apparently I'm an extremely dangerous pyro with an unnatural fixation on miniskirts, which is really a result of repressed gender confusion and stress. Now I have to keep a girly diary in order to, "have a healthy and cathartic outlet for the pent up emotions" leading to my "neurosis."
Should've known something like this would happen when they sent Armstrong in to do the exam. Apparently the ability to psychoanalyze people is an ability passed down for generations in the Armstrong family.
Well, I for one was NOT happy to be picking little pink sparkles out of my coffee for two hours after our little "chat." Who is he kidding anyway? No one is that much of a poser without having a little gender confusion himself. Decided not to bring this up during our talk as delving into the secret mind of "Sparkles" Armstrong is not my idea of a good time.
Would rather be thinking of what a certain blonde haired underling of mine looks like in a miniskirt.
Bet you'd like to know which blonde haired underling I'm referring to, wouldn't you? Ha.
Hawkeye keeps slipping anonymous love letters into the crazy-mad-tall stacks of paperwork she brings me every morning. Now I guess we know why she obsesses over their "urgency" so much. She thinks I don't know it's her, but I caught her in her office yesterday writing Riza loves Roy all over her diary during lunch.
And here I thought she'd been working overtime to advance my prospects of becoming Fuhrer. May have to issue a reprimand as such behavior is glaringly unprofessional, not to mention scary and obsessive. Not that I can blame her; I must admit I am quite studly.
Who's been trying on the miniskirt prototypes I keep in my desk? All the waistbands are stretched out. Geez. I get no respect around here.
Especially from Fullmetal. He stomped in here at 10:30 this morning with his latest mission report and proceeded to ruin the perfectly lovely hour of short comments and hair pulling that followed when he transmuted my desk into a pile of fish sticks. He said it was payback for magnetizing Al and rolling him all over the floor to get all the lost pins out of the carpet from where they'd fallen off the miniskirt prototypes when somebody tried them on.
Clearly, he was overreacting.
Good thing I moved the prototypes to the hall closet before he got here this morning, the desk just isn't a safe place anymore.
On the plus side, all that nasty paperwork and confessions of the anonymous Hawkeye's undying love are now rather tasty microwaveable treats.
Prime suspect in miniskirt capers—Havoc. Caught him checking himself out in full-length locker room mirror asking himself if his uniform made him look fat and grumbling that the pants didn't show off his shapely legs for a certain "dark haired military officer."
Would have been rather alarmed if I didn't already know he's got a thing for Fury. Decided to take matters into my own hands and lock them both in the hall closet with the miniskirts. Shouted through door that if they want to be let out any time soon, they'd better get their acts together and realize that they're both madly attracted to one another.
Only later was I able to appreciate the irony of the situation. Havoc and Fury are both locked in the closet. To get out of the closet, they have to…come out of the closet. I am such a genius! This is why I'll make a great Fuhrer.
Oh my, was that a giggle?
Hawkeye's all ancy because she can't find Havoc and Fury and they're behind on their paperwork. I told her not to worry, they were probably just, ah, buying more pens or something, but had to run away when she tried to glomp me and tell me how wonderful and strong I am in times of crisis. Like I don't already know you crazy woman! Had to resist urge to send flaming fireballs her way from the relative safety of my office. Decided that suspicious fiery death of underlings would not look good when trying to be Fuhrer. Oh the sacrifices I make for duty!
I wonder what she'll do when she finds out I locked Black Hayate in the basement. He'd been sniffing around Havoc and Fury's closet; I couldn't let him lead her right to them! They haven't admitted the truth yet! I wish they'd hurry up though, I can't work on the mini-skirt designs if i CAN'T UNLOCK THE DOOR!
As if that wasn't bad enough, I had to put up with one of Maes' phone calls about Alicia. "She beat up a kid in pre-school all by herself today! The teachers wrote her up for it, but she told me he'd been stealing lunch money from the littler ones this whole week, so I told the teachers where they could stick that! In fact, the other kids were so grateful, they gave her all their money as thanks. Isn't she a great judge of character?"
Decided not to tell Maes he was being outsmarted by a three-year old con-artist as did not want to face Alicia's wrath. Hey, you gotta choose your battles.
Next up will be…hmmm…I think a little Edward Elric! Don't like it? Laughed until you cried? Want to know what kind of crack I'm on to write this? Let me know!
Flames will be used to heat the water in my dorm, which is currently 32.00001 degrees F.