It was really dark outside. He found himself surprised and annoyed. He'd stalled and goofed around and generally slacked off for too long, and now it was the dead of night. But he'd promised Hawkeye that he'd finish that report before he went home, and as a man, he would not break that promise.

Mustang swore he'd never make that mistake again.

Sitting there in his bright office all alone had some weird affect on him. Just after finishing a list of insults for Fullmetal next time he saw him, he became aware that he was lonely and wanted someone to talk to. He was suddenly itching to call up Maes.

That's when he looked out the window and was surprised at how late it was. He couldn't call at this hour, he'd wake the whole family. He was annoyed because there was no hope of company to ward off the work he should have been done with when the sun was up.

Even Hawkeye had gone home long ago. Well, he'd sent her home to stop her from glaring at him when he wasn't working, which, needless to say was 100 of the time. How relieved he was when she quietly left instead of holding a gun to his head until the report was done.

But now it was dark and he was lonely.

This thought made him slightly sad, because he was not often lonely, and he was disappointed in himself for being so. But he was, and instead of a warm somebody in the room with him, he had nothing but stacks of neglected paperwork.

So when he turned back to his desk to see Hawkeye in full uniform standing on the other side of it, he nearly fell out of his chair and torched the whole building as a defensive reflex.


"Mustang taisa," she frowned. "this is not what I asked you to do." She lifted the compilation of insults from his desk.

"Right, Lieutenant, I was just about to get started on that—I mean, I've been working on it the whole time, but I was taking a break—I mean, yes, I'll get back to work right this very moment…." He didn't even know why he bothered with excuses, her red eyes narrowed into a glare no matter what he said.

But she said nothing. She simply backed away and took a seat at her desk, and began to sort through some papers.

Roy was lost. "What exactly are you doing back here, Lieutenant?"

She shot him a look. "I'm helping you finish that report, sir. If you don't mind my saying, it appears to me that you could use the assistance."

For some reason, that wasn't quite what he had expected. What had he expected? Violence, probably. But he watched her calmly turn back to the papers, and slowly he felt compelled to do some work as well. Honestly, it was an odd and unfamiliar feeling.

But at least now he wasn't alone.

They worked in near silence for a while, Mustang only speaking to ask her to look up some facts, or search for a document or two, or look over what he had written. By the time he finally, actually finished the report, he had forgotten how dark it was outside.

He plopped the packet down in front of her, sinking into the chair next to hers. He folded his arms over miscellaneous documents scattered about the desk and buried his face in his elbow. "It's done," he said, voice muffled through his arm. "Can I go home now?"

He heard rustling as she picked up the report and looked through it. "I'm tired," he added, as she said nothing. He rolled his head and opened an eye to look at her.

Hawkeye was still flipping through the report, a sort of smile on her face. He thought she looked nice like that, not all scowly like the rest of the time. Maybe he should listen to her and do what she wanted more often, if it got her to look like that.

"Lieutenant," he said slowly.

She took her eyes from the paper to look down at him.

"If by some odd chance I made another promise to not leave the office until I finished some stupid report, would you stay and help me finish it?"

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"And then," he continued, turning back into the pillow of his arms, "would you carry me home?"

Hawkeye would have punched his lights out, had he not already been fast asleep.