Work Text:
Jean Havoc was firmly of the opinion that there was absolutely nothing more mind-numbing than writing filing sheets for report summaries. They consisted of exactly ten lines of basic information, and required the mental capacity of a ten-year-old to complete. In fact, he would bet Elysia Hughes could do it. Hell, Black Hayate could do it. Absolutely anyone could do it...except that they couldn't. It was classified information, which meant they had to keep it in-department.
Jean gave a long yawn and rubbed at his eyes. It was only Monday night, but all of them had ended up working Sunday, and he already felt exhausted.
"Alright, that's the Gs. Come on, let's go," Breda grunted from beside him as he stood from his chair. "Might as well get it over with."
Jean gave a groan. There was nothing more mind-numbing than filling out filing sheets... Nothing, except sorting the triplicate copies.
Havoc stood as the others gathered around the table for the seventh time, listening to his bones pop and feeling the blood rush to his head after sitting too long.
"We're starting, lieutenant," said Fuery.
"Alright, alright, give me a minute. One of my legs and half my ass is asleep,” he grumbled as he hobbled over to the table to stand in-between Breda and Mustang.
Hymens rewarded him for that choice by lazily slapping his tingling rear, making him hiss.
"Shit!"
"There you go, that'll get it nice and perked up," he chuckled.
Edward had thrown his head back and was cackling with evil laughter, pointing a metal finger at him from Mustang's other side.
"On your mark, go," said Falman, heedless of the shenanigans.
"Breda, that was hilarious," Ed snickered as he pulled his first form apart and handed the rest of it to his left.
"You know, that's technically sexual harassment you're endorsing, and of a subordinate," Mustang pointed out.
“Uh, pot and kettle?” Havoc scoffed in disbelief as he took a yellow sheet from him.
“Yeah, no shit,” Ed agreed. “You can’t talk. And ‘technically?’ geez, you scumball.”
“Well that barely qualifies,” Mustang objected, ignoring the insult and nodding toward the pair. “It was hardly a proper spank.”
“Oh, and you think you’re the expert, you're just the best in town, huh?” Ed sneered.
“Yes,” Mustang said, who for some reason was smirking in a very pointed fashion at the Fullmetal Alchemist. “Yes, I do.”
“Colonel, Boss, can we have a little focus, here, please?” Havoc grumbled. I really would like to get home sometime before—”
Smack!
The crisp sound rang out in the office immediately followed by loud gasp, and Havoc jerked forward, spilling every one of the papers he’d been holding all over the table.
“Now that's how you sexually harass a subordinate,” Mustang said, returning to the paperwork.
“Shit! That stings, goddamn it!” Havoc said, losing his tempter. “That stings, sir,” he recanted through clenched teeth. He could feel his face getting hot. Breda was one thing, but there were a whole lot of reasons he didn’t want Roy Mustang touching his ass in any fashion, especially not in front of military co-workers.
“Stings just right, hmm?” Mustang said smugly, glancing sideways up at him from under his dark eyelashes. Jean felt his stomach do a flip, accompanied by a rush of panic. But before he was faced with the issue of how to brush it off, Ed dropped his papers to the table and started to move around Mustang toward Jean.
“Psh! That’s nothin’! I'll show you how it's really done,” he announced.
Jean took a step backward, holding a placating hand out in front of him.
“Permission to speak freely, sir!” he snapped out.
Ed paused, narrowing his eyes. “Granted,” he allowed.
“If you take one more step toward me I will not hesitate to hit you with this chair, sir,” Jean warned flatly.
“Permission to speak freely does not cover threat of bodily harm, lieutenant,” Falman pointed out helpfully.
“I'm the one being threatened with bodily harm!” Havoc objected in irritation.
“Bootily harm, even," snickered Breda, who had stopped working and was watching the whole thing go down in glee.
“You know he's thinking of using his right hand!” Jean accused.
A grin broke out over Ed’s face, and he took another step forward. “Now that you mention it, that’s a pretty good idea,” he said.
“Boss, I swear to hell I will!” Havoc shouted.
Ed took one step forward, Havoc took one step back, and Lieutenant Hawkeye walked into the room.
Very quickly and very suddenly, all had returned to the task at hand.
Hawkeye surveyed them for a moment, and then walked over to the colonel's desk. "I'll set the forms I mentioned on your desk, sir," she said. "I apologize for the late notice."
"Understood,” he returned, wearing that particular shade of false innocence he tended to take on when caught off guard and pretending they couldn't tell. “Have a safe trip, Lieutenant."
"What?!" chorused Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman.
"Unavoidable business, I'm afraid," she said as she pulled on her coat. "I'll be taking an immediate leave of absence."
"Now?!" Havoc demanded in disbelief, gesturing with both paperwork-filled hands at the chaotic state of the office.
"I'm sorry,” she said, and had the grace to look it. “But I have full confidence in your ability to do without me.” She pulled open the door. “Goodnight, gentlemen."
"No! We don't deserve any confidence, as if this wasn't next-to-impossible even with your help!" Havoc pleaded.
She gave an apologetic smile, but began to swing the door closed behind her. "Best of luck."
"Lieutenant, Please! Don't leave me here alone with them, not like this!" he cried in desperation.
The door clicked closed, and his words were instantly validated, as Edward Elric's left hand landed with every inch of force he could muster squarely on his backside.
The yelp that Jean Havoc gave resounded down the hallway and out into the night, where Black Hayate, waiting on the steps, offered a howl of commiseration to the moon.