[FIC] A Day in the Life (FMA, for ponderosa121)

Title: A Day in the Life
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye
Rating: PG
Notes: For ponderosa121, who requested Roy & Riza bodyswitch here. I hope you enjoy this. My first attempt at writing in the FMA fandom.
~2200 wds. (Oh, and unbeta'd. Proceed with caution.)


Roy Mustang woke in confusion. Hadn’t his alarm clock gone off? He distinctly remembered winding it the night before. He began a huge yawn--and stopped short. His voice–

Instantly he had an strong feeling of just what was so wrong, not just with his voice, but (now that he took half a an instant to recognize it) his entire being. Still, he refused to accept something so preposterous. Cautiously, he opened one eye...

...and groaned (though in a rather fetching, feminine tone) as his suspicions were confirmed. This wasn’t his bedroom. This wasn’t his apartment.

When you got right down to it, this wasn’t even his body, was it?

He held a hand up before his face. Fingers fine-boned but strong. Neatly manicured nails trimmed short and clear of polish. No rings. An index finger with just the slightest hint of a crook to it. He flipped the hand toward him and took a moment to study the whorls on the tips of the fingers, the creases in the meaty part of the palm. All an effort just to delay the inevitable, he supposed, or perhaps he was merely working himself up to it.

He took a deep breath (doing his best to ignore the feeling as he did so of fleshy bits jutting and the silken material of a pajama top rearranging itself subtly against soft skin) and sat up in bed. Strands of long blonde hair tumbled across his shoulders.

From the dresser mirror across the room, Riza Hawkeye blinked at him in confusion. She looks so different with her hair down. Not exactly the most relevant thought to the situation at hand. Roy supposed he was just the tiniest bit in shock. It wasn’t every day that you woke up mysteriously in your second-in-command’s bed. Even less often you woke up in their body. In fact, he’d hazard a guess that this was the first time such a thing had ever happened.

Still...not panicking. Roy Mustang didn’t do “panic.” Come to think of it, Lieutenant Hawkeye didn’t either. Good. They’d get along swimmingly. Time to think now. Figure this out and fix it.

A soft whine near the foot of the bed drew his attention. Black Hayate was staring up at Roy, a quizzical tilt to his head, looking about as confused as it was possible for a dog to look. “You and me both,” Roy said, and was surprised anew by the sound of his--of Hawkeye’s--voice. It sounded like her and yet it didn’t, off slightly in that “is that really what I sound like?” tape recording kind of way. Something about it must have decided Black Hayate that whatever canine uncertainties he was already having were justified, though, since he yipped and dove under the bed.

Then in a flash, everything made sense. Roy didn’t blame Black Hayate for hiding. When you got right down to it, this was all the dog’s fault.

Lieutenant Hawkeye had been assisting him last night, keeping notes as he prepared an experimental transmutation circle for his upcoming assessment. Disappointingly, it hadn’t worked. Or, Roy amended, it hadn’t worked like it was supposed to. He was knee-deep in some rather compelling evidence that whatever it was had worked all too well.

So. An alchemy array meant to remove impurities from the air had instead forced Roy’s consciousness into Lieutenant Hawkeye’s body. He could only assume she, in turn, was in his. Well, the blame for that--for all of it--lay squarely on Black Hayate.

There had been a smouldering fire going in the room, the black smoke to serve as a visual signal of the experiment’s success. However, midway through the transmutation, Black Hayate (who’d been napping quietly at Hawkeye’s feet for most of the night) was suddenly seized by a fit of puppyish playfulness and leapt onto the chalked design, snapping his teeth at a curl of smoke. It had been too late to stop the transmutation. Roy had felt a slight lurch, and a sort of a tug...and then it had been over, with seemingly no effects at all.

Now he closed his eyes and cursed himself for not realizing sooner, for not being more careful. But he’d been tired, and frustrated, and–

What’s that sound? A key turning in a lock; could it be Hawkeye? Hawkeye, in his body, as he was in hers? He didn’t know how she’d gotten a key--he certainly didn’t have one at his place; he’d never even been inside her apartment before this morning--but she was nothing if not resourceful. Still...

A low creak of the door opening. “I’m he-e-e-re.”

Roy froze. It was a male voice, speaking soft and low, warm with affection. It certainly wasn’t his voice.

But it was one he recognized.

Steps came closer to the bedroom. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It's time for some exercise.” Playful now. Dear God. Roy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was it even possible? But why else would he have his own key, why else come breezing in at this hour with syrup in his voice? Though he’d never suspected a thing before, Roy had to admit it was the only explanation. They’d kept their secret well, that was for sure: Riza Hawkeye and Jean Havoc, clandestine lovers.

Then Roy remembered that at the moment, he was Riza Hawkeye, and his head started to feel a bit spinny.

Havoc was still walking closer, his voice teasing now. “What kind of a welcome is this?” He paused. “Or is someone just feeling a little naughty?”

This...isn’t...happening... What should he say? What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t tell Havoc who he really was, could he? Then again, he couldn’t very well–

Havoc stepped into the doorframe and froze, an unlit cigarette dangling from between his lips. Roy unconsciously clutched the bed sheets up to his chest. Both of them stared at each another for a moment, silent and surprised. What was happening? Could Havoc somehow tell, just as Black Hayate had done?

Havoc broke the silence, giving an embarrassed-sounding cough into one hand. “Uh...I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t realize you were home.”

“Didn’t...realize?”

Now Havoc was giving Roy a decidedly odd look. “Well, you’re usually at the shooting range by now, aren’t you?”

“Oh.” Roy nodded numbly. “Then why are you here?”

Havoc’s eyebrow quirked. “It’s Tuesday,” he said, as if this should explain everything. “Lieutenant, are you feeling well? Do you want me to skip taking Black Hayate to the park today?”

Ah. That explained so much. Roy let out a sigh of relief. “Forgive me, Lieutenant Havoc. I just had a....late night. Please carry on as planned.”


Once Havoc was gone, with Black Hayate in tow, Roy sprang into action. Okay. He needed to get to Hawkeye and get both of them back to that transmutation circle. Whatever lines Hayate had smudged or erased when he bounded over it last night had completely changed the configuration of the array, but so long as it wasn’t further tampered with, Roy shouldn’t have any trouble using it to switch them back. Then they could destroy it before anyone discovered what had happened. Whether on purpose or not, he’d committed a taboo: human transmutation. He wasn’t about to let something like that destroy his chances for advancement. No one could find out. So. Find Hawkeye, slip back to the transmutation circle, get them back in their right bodies, and destroy the evidence. Simple.

Of course, first he had to get dressed.

It was the brassiere that tripped him up. Not that it in itself mystified him--oh no, Roy Mustang was quite familiar with the workings of that particular item, having removed more than a few in his day--but it was Hawkeye. It didn’t seem right to get an eyeful of her goods. It had been easy enough to slip off pajama bottoms and panties and step into new undergarments and uniform pants without looking down, but this wouldn’t work that easily.

Roy briefly flirted with the idea of closing his eyes and going strictly by touch, but that seemed even worse, really. In the end, he just worked his way into the brassiere as quickly as he could, whipping a shirt on over it as soon as he was done, as if to cover his guilt. Well, she couldn’t really hold it against him.

Once dressed, he fiddled with the hair, trying to get it into that sort of swoopy twist thing she wore. His efforts--while not as neat as Hawkeye’s--were passable, he decided. He just thanked his lucky stars that Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn’t the type to wear a lot of make-up.

Now, where to look for her? Since she wasn’t already here, the best options seemed to be either his apartment or his office. And since she was more than intelligent enough to realize it would be bad to arouse suspicions, she would probably be following his daily routine. Roy glanced at a wall clock. Given the hour.... Right then. The office.


Roy breathed a relieved sigh at the sight of himself sitting behind his desk. “Oh, good. You’re here.” He quickly shut the door.

Hawkeye shook her-his head at him. “Where else would I be? And what took you so long, Colonel? ...You can fix this, right?”

He sighed. “It’s that damn alchemy array. When your dog ran across it last night, he changed something in the configuration and now--”

“But you can undo it, right?” she prompted in a firm tone of voice.

Roy nodded. “Yes. As long as the transmutation circle is the same as it was last night, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Roy saw his body relax as she heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God.” Hawkeye stood, giving him a quick once-over. She clucked her tongue (and it sounded utterly bizarre coming from his mouth; Roy wasn’t the tongue-clucking type) and motioned him closer. “Colonel, my hair is a mess. Let me fix that.” Hawkeye disappeared behind him and he felt her remove the clip from his hair, loosing it to tumble down his back and whisper against the nape of his neck.

“Is it really that bad?”

A careful pause. “I suppose you tried, at least.” She lifted the hair up in her hands, gently evening the strands.

He sucked at a cheek, doing his best not to fidget. “So...Havoc walks your dog?”

“Only on Tuesdays.” He felt deft fingers grab and swoop, twisting hair neatly up and replacing the fastener. “He says that girls adore a man with a puppy, but truth be told, I just think he likes playing with him. There. All set.” He turned and looked at her. So odd, seeing his face from this angle. Hawkeye wasn’t much shorter than he was, but everything still looked different. For a moment he pondered what he must look like to Fullmetal. For someone that short, they must be looking straight up his nose...

He realized Hawkeye was still talking. “Now, just before you got in, I received word that Lt. Colonel Hughes will be arriving this afternoon, and--”

“Wait a minute. Maes is coming here? Then we have to be quick.”

Roy was disconcerted by his own face quirking a dubious eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“Because he’ll know, dammit. That you’re not me.”

“If you say so.” Was she laughing at him? She was certainly smirking. He hadn’t even realized Lieutenant Hawkeye knew how to smirk. She seemed pretty good at it, or maybe it was just the muscle memory from his face.

He scowled. “Let’s go.”


The effects of the transmutation were almost instantaneous this time, probably because he knew that he was transferring souls and not filtering air. There came that hitching lurch and tugging sensation, but this time it was following by intense dizziness and a sense of collapse, then a frantic corkscrew through lord knew where--and then Roy was picking himself up off the ground, in his own body, thankyouverymuch. He glanced up to see if Hawkeye was fine as well.

She looked decidedly uncomfortable, though perhaps not actually in pain. “Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he ventured, “are you all right?”

She looked up, absently biting at her lip. “I’m fine. Just...Colonel, didn’t you use the bathroom this morning?”

Oh. That. “I didn’t want t--well, since it was your body and all, it just seemed too...weird.” He gave her a winning smile, waiting for her to be impressed with his gallantry.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Colonel.” She stood carefully and walked briskly (if a bit stiffly) from the room to, he could only presume, find an unoccupied toilet post-haste.

Roy stood as well and, using the toe of his boot, quickly obscured the lines of the transmutation circle. It seemed almost a shame that no one else would know about this accidental triumph, but he wouldn’t risk documenting the configuration of the array. Best to just destroy it right away, lest someone else discover it here.

He was just finishing up when he realized that, even after Hawkeye’s urgent need to urinate, he himself felt no such inclination, despite the late hour of the day. And that meant that Hawkeye must have–

“Hey!” he said in a scandalized tone of voice, to no one in particular.