“I thought housewarming was supposed to happen after everything is moved and unpacked.”

Jean snorted into his beer at Farman’s rueful observation. “Yeah, well. At least they supplied the drinks. Besides, when was the last time we got any kind of normal assignment from Mustang-taisa?” he added with a wry grin.

“A good point.” Farman stood up as the last load of boxes from Hawkeye’s place pulled up.

Jean followed more slowly, and not just because he wanted to get the last few swallows of his beer. The Colonel and Hawkeye were converging on the car, and the two of them had been worth watching all day.

Of course, they’d always been kind of fun to watch. Anyone with eyes knew Hawkeye’d had a thing for their superior officer since day one. Well, anyone with eyes who wasn’t Roy Mustang, but Jean had never been sure that wasn’t deliberate ignorance. It was actually a pretty impressive show to watch them dancing around it.

The steps seemed to have changed, today, though.

They were acting like two cats who’d just met. One of them was always watching the other, but only when the other wasn’t looking. They didn’t quite go so far as to start washing when the target looked around, but Jean had collected quite a list of other elaborately innocent gestures, over the course of the day.

“These three go up to my room, the rest go to the kitchen.” Hawkeye tapped the first set of boxes with emphasis. “Open these, and die.”

The uniformly male box-carrying contingent voiced vigorous agreement, and Jean snickered. Poor Fury was still traumatized from having opened a box of her underwear and Hughes-san was kindly keeping him occupied unpacking books. He’d never seen Lisa turn quite that shade of red, either.

She gave him a dark look, now. “You can take the plates.”

The heaviest box, of course. He was happy enough, though, since it finally gave him a chance to talk to her alone. “Are you really sure about this?” he asked quietly, as they ripped open boxes on the kitchen floor.

“Sure about what?” Her tone was quellingly brisk, and Jean eyed her with exasperation.

“About moving in with him, Lisa. I mean, you’re not,” he waved a hand, “like that yet, right?”

Her lips thinned and she paused in putting away glasses to direct a paint-stripping glare at him. Jean sighed. “Look, I’m not prying. It’s just… are you sure it’s a good idea?”

Her hands stilled, resting on the counter. “No, I’m not sure,” she said, at last, softly. “But I do know nothing will ever change if I’m not the one to push it. Not the way I want it to.”

Jean looked at her for a long moment, and a corner of his mouth curled up. “About time you went after what you want.” She blinked at him and he chuckled. “Oh, come on. You’re one of us; you know we’re all rooting for you, right?”

Her eyes softened. “Jean…”

“Besides,” he took a reflective drag on his cigarette, “once you put a leash on him, he’ll stop stealing girls from all the rest of us. Win-win situation, I say.”

The rest of the box carriers came back downstairs to find Hawkeye leaning on a chair laughing while Jean innocently put away plates.

TBC