A Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfiction
By Gingeh, who owns nothing but the plot bunnies stealing her watermelons.
Havoc sighed, twirling his unlit cigarette between his fingers. He was supposed to be undercover, along with Fuery, Falman, Breda, and Ed Elric (Al would have come too, but a big, clunking suit of armor is hard to keep inconspicuous), sneaking information out of this shady-looking, low-class bar.
But he and the rest had been waiting on Mustang and Hawkeye for more then twenty minutes now. He figured the colonel had held them up – probably with some extra paperwork or something he hadn't turned in.
He sighed again, absently twirling his goatee, something he'd bought especially for this mission (okay, and because he thought it looked dashing).
Where the heck are they? He checked his watch again, before rolling his eyes and signaling the bar man for another drink.
Abruptly, the door to the bar swung open, and he sneaked a look out of the corner of his eye. Finally – huh?
The dashing man who'd just walked in was definitely Mustang. He'd dyed his hair a light brown in place of its usual ebony shine, but other then that he hadn't bothered to disguise himself at all. Havoc tugged at his goatee in annoyance, and then frantically patted it back into place when it started to slip off.
But the tall, shapely blonde in the hot-looking jacket and the blue mini-skirt who the colonel had come in with…who was she?
"Must've left Hawkeye behind to finish his paperwork," grumbled Breda under his breath.
"And picked up a date on the way here, I bet. Colonel Bastard…" Ed was openly glaring at Mustang, and Havoc casually flicked his forehead to remind him they were undercover, which earned him a scowl and a kick in the shin from the pint-sized alchemist. Havoc cursed under his breath – the little booger was currently wearing a pair of his friend Winry's high-heels to keep himself from looking his real age or younger in this place, and those shoes were very, very painful.
The colonel and his girl casually made their way over to where the group was sitting. Ed's fingers twitched, like he wanted to rip the smirk right off of Mustang's face. "Where the heck were you? We've been waiting for ages, you idiot!" he whispered heatedly.
"I apologize, Fullmetal. We had a situation at the office."
"Situation? Ha! You mean you forgot to do your paperwork, again!"
"I'm a busy man, Fullmetal, with important things I have to take care of. I sometimes have to put certain things in front of paperwork. Not that someone as short as you could understand that."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING – mmph!"
Falman had abruptly cut Ed off by clapping a hand over his mouth. "We're undercover, Elric," he hissed. "Rant about your small stature or lack thereof some other time!"
Feury, who'd been watching the proceedings with a worried air, could now be heard mumbling, "I don't know what Edward's shortness has to do with not understanding avoiding paperwork…"
Havoc was no longer paying attention. Mustang's girl was even hotter up close. Her hair was so long and silky-looking and those side-swept bangs really did something for her. Not to mention her small waist, delicate fingers, and a few other…assets.
"My eyes are up here, Havoc."
Havoc's attention– and that of all the rest gathered at the table – immediately snapped to the blonde's face, eyes wide in shock. That voice…
No. Friggin'. Way.
She carefully brushed her bangs out of her face, and chaos ensued.
Fuery, who had been drinking from his glass of water, suddenly spit it out in a large spray that completely coated Ed. Not that he noticed, as his eyes were currently spinning in circles as he tried – and failed - to comprehend this new information. Falman seemed frozen in shock, Breda was choking on a fry, and Havoc started sputtering incoherently.
He couldn't say anything more, could only stare at her in shock, mouth moving open and closed.
"Don't overexert your brain, Havoc," remarked Mustang, smirking broadly and obviously enjoying every minute of the chaos. Hawkeye glared at him, and the smirk slid off his face.
"Sir, we're on a mission. Can we please just get this over with?"
With that, she stood and walked over to the bar and took a seat. After a moment, she looked pointedly over her shoulder at Mustang. He sighed slightly, and then rose to join her.
Havoc was still in a high state of shock. His mind was trying to connect the Ice Queen of the office to this gorgeous woman in the mini-skirt – and failing. Epically.
"I bet Mustang used some kind of alchemy on her!" Fuery whispered, his eyes wide.
"That's not possible," Falman replied, at the same vocal level. "Alchemy cannot be used to manipulate other's personalities." He paused, and looked uncertainly towards Ed. "…Can it?"
"I don't think so," he replied quietly, after a moment of thought. "At least, I couldn't do it. But then, I can't shoot flames out of my fingers, either."
As one, the entire table turned to look over at where Mustang and his lieutenant were seated. The two were now conversing quietly with the bartender, obviously conducting the information transfer. Well, Hawkeye was. Mustang was winking at a pretty redhead seated across the room.
"There is no way that man could be skilled enough to do something like that," Havoc stated firmly. Everyone nodded in agreement.
"But what other explanation is there?" asked Breda. "There's no way the lieutenant chose to dress like that."
"I bet he blackmailed her," Edward muttered darkly.
"I'd accept that, if I could think of something Hawkeye could be blackmailed for," Havoc said, lighting his cigarette. This stress was seriously getting to him. He took a drag and continued, "Can you really imagine her doing anything wrong, at all? Ever?"
"Not really," Ed admitted.
"There you go, then. But that leaves us back to square one," Havoc twirled his cigarette between his fingers distractedly. "Why would Hawkeye do this?"
"I have a theory," volunteered Falman. Havoc nodded, and he continued. "We've already ruled out using alchemy to alter her personality, correct? But what we didn't discuss was using alchemy to alter her appearance."
Edward sat up. "That might be possible," he said excitedly. "It would just involve a little rearranging of parts, and if he could get an alchemical array on her clothing somehow, it would be easy!"
"There we go, then!" declared Havoc, sounding satisfied. "Case closed."
"But why would Lieutenant Hawkeye let herself be dragged in here in those clothes?" Fuery asked hesitantly. "Wouldn't she just go home and change?"
"The colonel could have done it just outside the bar," Breda said thoughtfully. "You know how much Hawkeye hates tardiness. She wouldn't have wanted to be any later then she already was. And, that would also explain why she didn't pull out her guns and shoot him in the head: It'd attract too much attention."
"She should've shot him anyway," commented Ed, grinning evilly.
"I second that," said Breda, munching on a fry. "It would've been interesting."
The shout came from behind the group, and they swiveled to find a large, muscular man with one hand on the shoulder of the girl Mustang had been winking at earlier, and the other around the colonel's throat. "What're you doing, flirting with my girl? You asking for some punishment?"
"Who? Me?" Mustang was trying his best to act innocent, the effect of which was ruined by the fact that his face was slowly turning purple.
"Yeah, you!" the man snarled, turning a deaf ear to his girlfriend's pleas that no, he hadn't been flirting with her, and couldn't they just go back to their table now…?
"Why would I flirt with her?" the colonel managed to squeak out somehow. "I've got my own girl right here!"
Edward snorted loudly, and Havoc found himself shaking with suppressed laughter. The thought of Hawkeye as anyone's 'girl'…
The lieutenant had been mostly been ignoring the situation up until that moment, perhaps hoping to somehow salvage what was left of the team's inconspicuousness. But at Mustang's comment, she stiffened, and turned to glare at him. He sent her a look, one of their special looks that somehow conveyed a whole conversation to the other with a single glance (though how that was possible would forever be a mystery), and she sighed. "Yes. We're together. Could you let go of his neck, now? I need him breathing for our…date."
That was it for Mustang's squadron. Havoc collapsed to the floor, howling with laughter, Edward soon joining him. Breda's face was bright red, he was laughing so hard, Fuery had a hand pressed firmly over his mouth, and Falman was attempting to muffle his own laughter in the table, and failing utterly.
Hawkeye rolled her eyes, a slight pink tinge to her cheeks.
The jealous boyfriend looked between Hawkeye, the laughing group, and Mustang, and seemed to being putting pieces together in his head. After a third glace at Mustang, it seemed to hit him. "You're Colonel Mustang," he growled. "The womanizer."
Mustang shook his head weakly, and then collapsed to the floor, panting loudly, as the man pushed him away roughly.
Hawkeye stood up, taking charge of the situation. She strode over to face the man, her glare pure ice. "I don't date military dogs," she told him firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
He looked startled for a moment, and then composed himself. "Yeah? Well how do I know you're really dating him?"
She continued glaring at him. "We are dating."
Edward, who'd been slowly recovering from his fit of laughter, collapsed again.
She spared him a glace. "Your heels are showing."
That shut him up.
"Can you prove you're dating?" The boyfriend challenged, bringing her attention back to him.
"How does someone prove they're dating?" she queried, sounding annoyed.
After a moment of silence, the man smiled.
"You could kiss him."
All noise died. You could hear it faintly, in the background, but in this area, there was no sound. Hawkeye stood her ground, and a random wind, a wind which should not have been possible indoors, ruffled her hair. The man crossed his arms, looking smug. The gauntlet had been tossed, and what a challenge it was.
Mustang slowly rose, apparently just recovering his breath in time to hear his final words. She turned to face him. Their eyes locked, and time stood still.
Then their lips met, and the world was in fast-forward.
Breda's eyes were wide as saucers, and he wasn't blinking. Fuery fainted, Falman's jaw hit the floor, and Edward started catcalling.
Havoc dropped his cigarette.
Whistles sounded throughout the bar, and the man growled and stomped away, dragging his girlfriend with him.
After a few moments, the two slowly drew apart. Hawkeye averted her eyes, and walked away, exiting the bar. Mustang quickly followed, the summoning glace over his shoulder bringing the others back from their previous state of shock and sending them scrambling after him.
The several-block-long walk to where all their cars were parked was nearly silent. At the very end of it, just before the group piled into their separate vehicles, Hawkeye gasped.
The group turned to her. "Lieutenant?" Mustang asked, sounding a little worried.
"We forgot to get the information."
Mustang sighed. "I wonder where Scar is?" he mumbled. "I really need someone to kill me."
"We'll just have to go back tomorrow, sir."
"I know, Hawkeye."
He turned to the others. "Men! We meet at the former location at twenty-one hundred hours, tomorrow night. Are we clear?"
Hawkeye glared at them all individually, her gaze promising worlds of pain. "This night never happened. Are we clear, men?"
"Very good." She opened the passenger side for the colonel, and then got in herself. With a final, warning glance at them in the rearview mirror, she backed out and drove away.
The remaining officers, and Edward, looked at each other. Havoc grinned, stroking his now-crooked goatee.
"I don't know about you guys, but tomorrow night, I'm bringing a camera."
Yep, another FMA fic. Please don't kill me! I know you all wanted Gakuen Alice, or Naruto, or at least Tokyo Mew Mew, but I couldn't help it! The plot bunnies were being mean to me, and I couldn't get this out of my head! So I figured I'd write it down, post it, and then move on to other stuff. And, in my personal opinion, this didn't turn out half bad ;D. But, for those of you about ready to kill me now, don't worry! I'm working on my other stuff, too! ...And if you really, really, really want me to be working on a certain story or genre, vote in my poll, or PM me if your choice isn't there.
Oh, for those of you who care, the title means, 'unexpected'.
Please review! Havoc won't get his camera unless you give it to him in a review (hah! How's that for motivation? ;P)! But no flaming, if you please, though constructive criticism is always welcome. Flaming is for dragons and marshmallows.