—Bet—
By Kaze-kun (NOT Mishi-chan)
Alright I'm getting my name back into the ranks slowly but surely! I'm sorry this is posted later than I told you all; my Beta took too long to go over it (cough—Mishi-chan—cough). This is probably one of my best ideas as far as romances go, I'm not usually one for things of this nature but I'll give it my all! Please tell me what you think!
Kaze-kun
-BET-
It was early morning on December first; the noise and rush of Central City had calmed to a soothing murmur as the last of the late-night workers rushed home through the icy air. The moon hung high over the horizon, shedding what half-hearted light it could through the shroud of darkness that slid soundlessly across the cobblestone roads. At the end of one of these roads was a decent home. The light navy-blue curtains were drawn closed in anticipation of the night. The owner of the bachelor pad was a young man in his early twenties with a burning desire to prove himself and a handsome face to cover his messy tracks.
He had one simple desire: to become the Fuher King himself.
…And maybe hold down a girlfriend for longer than the standard couple of weeks, though none of the local beauties held any true potential for the bachelor. Roy Mustang, as so many called him, had been one of the late-workers, adding his own hurried footsteps to the soft noises of late night Central. He had finally settled down, closed his eyes, and let sleep overcome him. All was calm. Even the neighborhood dogs had ceased their hopeful howling and laid their tired heads to rest. The colonel couldn't have asked for more than this serene, undisturbed, gentle…
WHAM!
"Roy! Hurry, you HAVE to see this, it's unbelievable!"
Colonel Roy Mustang, living with years of fighting for not only his life, but also his position, was alert in seconds, his hand secured around a pistol. The voice was that of his best friend, Maes Hughes, for that he was sure, but the air of urgency heightened his anticipation and he tensed as he slipped across the room. Hughes's shouts and pounding continued to rain down on the door until Roy finally threw it open, looking around warily.
"Hughes, what's the matter? What do you need?" Mustang asked, sleepy undertones still causing his vocal cords to sound rusty. His friend was framed by a sliver of moonlight. The silver glow granted his rectangular glasses a silvery sheen.
"Roy you have to see these…" Hughes rummaged through a purple coat pocket. Roy noticed that he wore his usual pink pajamas imprinted with yellow ducks underneath; what had caused him to leave his house so fast?
Before the tired colonel could brace himself, an unending tumult of pictures was promptly shoved into his face! A blonde young girl was bracing her teddy bear with an affectionate grip as she slept peacefully, reminding Roy just how tired he was.
"Isn't she ADORABLE?" Hughes cooed.
It took every inch of willpower in Mustang's body and every drop of respect he harvested for Hughes to keep him from shooting his partner with the pistol that gleamed temptingly in his hand. "Hughes…" Roy forced through clenched teeth, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the gun, "you came all the way up here… in your pajamas… to show me these… these PICTURES?!"
The General sensed Roy's usual anger. "Yes, but look at how cute she is! She's such a sound sleeper, unlike her old man, and she doesn't snore either! Plus, she just absolutely LOVES that old bear of hers that Glacia and I bought her for her actual 'birthday'!" The love was coming off of Hughes in waves and Mustang could almost envision little pink hearts floating about his head. Mustang began to growl.
"What would it take, Hughes?"
"Take to do what?" Maes queried, lowering his photographs for a moment.
"To get you to stay away from me with those blasted pictures of yours!" Roy shouted, earning a fierce echo of his own voice down the otherwise silent road.
"You can't get rid of me THAT easily Roy, you should know this by now." Hughes gave his old pal a grin.
"I'll roast you alive."
"You need me too much to do something like that."
"I'll increase your pay." The Colonel gave an internal flinch at those words, but he was desperate.
"Nah, your reactions are just too good to pass up." Hughes knew he had Roy on a string; his friend was beyond desperate.
"I'll buy all your food for the next month."
"Tempting, but I already have all the money I need for my family."
"…I'll buy you something shiny?"
"Wow Roy, money and food are fine, but something SHINY? You must really be tired!"
Mustang grunted in response to this; his coal eyes were dull from lack of sleep. "How about this," Hughes continued, "we make a bet. But not just any bet, something…interesting. Something that will make it all worth while."
Mustang eyed his friend warily. "Like what?"
"Give me time, Roy; I'll tell you tomorrow. I have to give it some thought."
"Fine, just let me sleep… please." Sleep's alluring grasp had nearly reduced Roy to the point of begging; this wasn't the first late night he'd experienced within the past few weeks.
"Okay but first you just HAVE to see the rest of these pictures I took! There's one where she's having a dream and—"
WHAM!
Roy slammed the door on Hughes. "GOOD NIGHT!" He yelled, unable to take any more of the father's ramblings.
"Why don't you do something with your life and GET A WIFE?!" Hughes shouted through the woodwork.
"I will, once I find a girl that's DECENT and actually wears MINISKIRTS!" Roy hollered back before flipping his watch open and reading the time. 4:47a.m. He strode away from the door, ignoring Hughes's other cries. Soon there was the soft 'click' of a bedside lamp being turned off and Central City was bathed in semi-silence once more...
Dawn broke late in Central, though not late enough for a particularly bedraggled colonel. An increasingly annoying alarm disturbed Mustang from his pleasant dreams, gaining in turn an onslaught of angry words from the sleep-deprived colonel himself. When Mustang awoke, he was in his usual early-morning stupor: walking into anything that was taller then he, including his wall, shower, door, and window. Roy stumbled into his shower, freezing the sleep away with an unwanted burst of icy water, compliments of the neighbors. After a mandatory swearing session, the bachelor staggered out of his shower and over to his closet.
Now what should I wear today? Roy wondered sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his many pairs of military uniforms. He avoided the practically shredded uniform from when he had conveniently 'misplaced' Hawkeye's favorite pistol. The results still ached in various places. After securing his navy blue 'dog-suit' (as Roy so nicely put it), he boosted his vanity by gazing at his clean-shaven, handsome reflection before slipping two stark-white ignition cloth gloves into his pockets. He braced himself for another seemingly boring day at Central Headquarters.
Plumes of icy air shot out before Mustang, misting in front of his face before vanishing. It was cold… very cold… annoyingly cold, to be exact, thanks to it being the first day of December. Roy walked with dignity, his coat drawn close and his jaw clamped shut to prevent the outburst of any shivers. Oh, how they would mock him if the officers at Headquarters discovered Roy's true hate for the bitter cold temperatures that winter brought. The Flame Alchemist, disturbed by a little chill? Hah! They'd throw water on him and make him into an icicle, or bury him in snow and call him 'Frosty'. This was even worse than when Edward called him the Popcorn Colonel! Oh, how that had burned…
With a relieved sigh Roy shoved open the ridiculously large doors to Central Headquarters' main hall, making a beeline to his warm, inviting office. It was still early; it was only eight in the morning, so the 'slave driver' wouldn't be there yet. Mustang felt a pang of guilt for calling his loyal subordinate such a name, but it was painfully true; the woman didn't know the meaning of the word 'break' unless it is used in the lines of 'I was in a fight and a maneuver caused me to break my arms so I'll just be signing things with my foot.'
"I can feel the hand cramp already!" Roy proclaimed to no one, throwing up his hands and collapsing into his leather chair.
After stifling a yawn, Roy pulled out a fair sized stack of letters and began to sort them, "Bills… bills… harassment… coupons… phone numbers…. dance… Aha! The Fuher King responded!" Roy tore apart the envelope excitedly; he had noticed that his subordinates had been a little off in the light of the holiday season, seeing all of the happy couples and families had really depressed them. But Roy had a cure for that: a military dance would be an occasion where they would be around friends and enjoy themselves without having to find a place to stay. Everyone had been working extra hard lately as well, especially… especially Hawkeye. Mustang blushed slightly at the thought of his blonde subordinate; her rare but warm smile, her honest copper eyes, her loyal gaze as she stood ready to fight the world by his side, her….
Mustang shook his head, shaming himself in the process; she was his subordinate, nothing more, nothing less. Roy smiled at the Fuher's acceptance letter; he couldn't wait to get the word out. Lucky for him, Breda strolled in not too soon after, picking up the coat he had left the other day. "Breda!" Roy cried enthusiastically, causing the carrot-top to jump slightly at the sudden vocalization, "I need you to deliver a message to everyone for me."
"Sure, what is it?" The portly subordinate queried. Roy explained his idea about the dance and Breda agreed with it fully, now eager to go and spread the word to their friends. As he dashed off Roy smiled and rested his head on his desk, maybe this wouldn't be such a dreadful December after all…
…
"What am I going to do with you, sir?"
A pair of determined copper eyes focused on the sleeping man splayed across his desk as a woman entered the office of Colonel Roy Mustang. She brushed back a strand of straw-yellow hair. The golden wisp hung slightly in front of her left eye as she scrutinized her charge. Riza Hawkeye, a sharpshooter with a love for weapons, paced across the room and placed a pale hand on Mustang's shoulder.
"No… no more… pictures…" Roy breathed, his tongue carrying out the visions from his dream. Hawkeye gave a slight smile before giving his shoulder a firm shake, taking an instant step back as a pair of coal-black orbs shot open in alarm. Mustang stiffened in anticipation of attack. His actions were followed by a sheepish lowering of his head; he was only in his office, of course. "My apologies Hawkeye," Mustang began formally, his speech interrupted by a massive yawn, "I had a certain… late-night pest." To put it nicely. Roy grumbled inwardly.
"It's fine, sir; I do worry at times though…" Hawkeye paused; Mustang noticed the instant shift in her jaw. Though subtle, he knew it meant that she was slightly embarrassed to admit her concern. "You hardly get much sleep now-a-days and it's not healthy."
Roy shifted and leaned back in his chair. His posture was strong though his face wore a mask of sleep-deprivation. "I'm fine, Hawkeye. This is nothing and, after all, I AM the hero of the Ishvalen War," Roy prompted, adding another burst to his already large ego.
"Well then, sir, as such an accomplished hero…" Hawkeye turned her back to him and doubled over, clanging open a number of drawers, "these should prove to be no problem for you, right?" Hawkeye dumped a stack of papers, about a foot in height in front of Roy.
"You're kidding right?" Mustang scoffed; this was brutal even for her. Riza fixed her superior with another fiery gaze. "… You're not kidding…" Roy muttered, reaching up to snatch the first document from the pile. They worked in silence for a while, not an awkward one or one that boasted an uncomfortable air, just a peaceful silence. "My idea for the military dance was approved by King Bradly," Roy informed her. Riza had been the only one that he had told about the dance, even Hughes had been left out of the loop this time… for the sake of Roy getting SOME form of sleep.
Hawkeye fixed Mustang with an approving glance. "Congratulations, sir. It was a good idea," She approved. Her praise made Roy feel a sense of pride he did not often feel, even when others spoke of his heroics.
"Well, then maybe we should celebrate…"
"How, sir?" Hawkeye asked, curious.
"Less paperwork…" Mustang said, waving his arm at the impossible stack.
"That desk of yours is large for more reasons then just looking superior, sir," Riza reminded him with a slightly teasing tone. Roy sighed and grumbled his annoyance before writing up reports, approvals, disapprovals, complaints, issues, and all the other boring things that colonels had the pleasure of suffering through.
It's times like these where I must wonder… if the power is truly worth it… Roy thought to himself. He rolled this thought around in his mind before it clicked. I'll NEVER give up! He thought, setting upon the work with sudden zeal.
Hawkeye was taken aback at the sudden burst of energy, almost like he had an epiphany while he was working. "Why the sudden burst of conviction?" Hawkeye queried.
"'Why the sudden burst', you ask?" Roy drew in a deep breath and Riza mentally braced herself. She knew what was coming. "Why, so that I can finally take over this blasted military! I'll better Central and the lands beyond it. I'll be a TRUE leader, and everyone will respect me! I will turn heads as I walk from important place to important place, I will retain peace and demolish those who threaten to destroy all that we hope and live for! But mostly, I will fire all of the men within this accursed establishment and hire a fighting force of nothing but strong, beautiful women! Then there will be a slight shift in the dress code and all of my female military personnel will have to wear… TINY MINISKIRTS!" The last two words were finished explosively as Roy took a dominating pose, one leg in his chair and the other on his desk, a fist clutched tightly in the air.
CLICK!
Roy froze in fear, like a deer in headlights. He knew that sound all too well… "Women are more then just pretty things to look at and hold, …sir," Hawkeye lectured through a tight voice. Mustang swallowed audibly.
"This stuff tastes as cheap as it is!"
Central cafeteria was a bustling room at the mid point of the morning; workers congregated to eat the cheap food and discuss what new were happening in the area.
"Don't complain, brother, you're the one who opted to eat here," A soft male voice lectured the one who had made the earlier comment. The louder one, Edward Elric, was sitting in a defiant posture, his back hunched and his eyes half-closed as he sipped his orange drink.
"Only because I didn't want to spend too much money on food," The short teenage boy retorted as he reached to snag the cold loaf of bread from his plastic tray.
Positioned on his right-hand side was a seven-foot tall suit of gray armor, accented with spikes and a reinforced chest plate. It spoke with a surprisingly young and soft voice that reverberated only slightly against the metal of its armor. "Well don't complain about it, brother; it's not everyone else's fault you were being cheap!"
Edward opened his mouth to argue when a familiar hand snatched the loaf of bread from the young alchemist's fingers. "Hughes!" Edward roared and the armor (his younger brother, Alphonse Elric) chimed together.
"Thanks for the food, Ed. I was just coming for a bit of interaction, but bread is always appreciated!" Hughes teased, his squared glasses flashing with his spirit.
"Give that back!" Ed reached for his lost food when another pair of voices drew his attention elsewhere.
"Wow, you two sure are lively so early in the morning," a raven haired man commented shyly, his rounded glasses pushed up high on his nose. Towering over him was an older man, with graying hair and narrow eyes.
"Hey, Fuery, Falman; where's Breda?" Edward greeted the duo, looking for their third man. Havoc didn't usually come to breakfast; he was the kind that liked to sleep as late as possible.
"I don't know. He went to Mustang's room to get his coat from the night before," Fuery replied, taking a seat next to Alphonse and Falman. The three always came to the cafeteria because they were too broke to buy something with better taste. Hughes shrugged and sat across from Edward and Alphonse.
"Hey! I have something interesting to tell you guys…" Hughes said, delving into a description of last night's events. Ed's golden eyes lit up with excitement when Hughes mentioned the bet.
"Clever," he approved as Hughes finished his story. "But what should we have that old colonel do…?" He trailed off as a familiar burst of red hair bobbed over the crowd of military workers.
"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late," Breda began. "I've got interesting news from the Colonel." Breda took a seat next to Hughes and began his own story of Roy's plans for the dance. He finished with an odd glance at Ed. "What's with that look on your face, Ed?"
Edward did his best to swallow the mischievous, cat-like grin on his face with little success. "Hughes… I think I have an idea for your bet…"
"Now, Hawkeye, I didn't really… well I did, but that's no reason to shoot me!"
The hunk of deadly metal aimed at Mustang lowered slightly, so that his dark eyes would meet Hawkeye's. She scrutinized his face, as though looking for a note of sincerity… which she apparently didn't find because she merely shook her head and aimed at Mustang once more.
"Sorry, sir, but…"
"GOOD MORNING ROY!" A familiar voice cut through the tense moment like a chainsaw, causing Roy to wince as his door was thrown open in a familiar manner. A loving husband/father strolled through the open door, his face split with a gleeful grin. The smile faltered for a moment as his eyes strayed over to the scene before him, including Hawkeye's pistol. The man's smile quickly returned, however, giving him an excited expression as he laughed at the usual occurrence. "One of those days, huh, Roy?" His best friend turned his head to send him a cold stare, causing Hughes to laugh once more. "I have come for a reason though, sir. I have the… highly important information you requested last night."
Mustang gave Hughes a blank stare, having no idea as to what he was talking about, but he wasn't stupid and knew that he was getting the opportunity moment to escape. "Ah, righ; the classified information." Roy turned to smile weakly at his aggravated subordinate. "My apologies, Hawkeye, but I must go and tend to this right away. So if you'll excuse me…" Roy backed out, stumbling over one of his plush leather couches in the process. He noticed that the pistol lowered only when he was rounding the corner of his office door.
…
"Thanks for the distraction Hughes. Your timing was perfect; I guess you are good for something after all," Roy teased, straightening himself and attempting to regain his dignity at the same time. Getting held at gun-point by a subordinate was insulting in many ways.
"I wouldn't thank me yet…" Hughes replied. A sneaky expression stole over his face as he waved away the insult. Roy went on instant alert, wariness making him choose his words carefully.
"Why do you say that?" Roy demanded; his expression darkened while Hughes's smile grew wider.
"I've got your bet figured out," Hughes reported.
"What?" The irritable colonel growled.
"From last night, remember?"
The memory hit Roy like a ton of bricks and he felt weariness settle upon his mind, "Unfortunately…"
"Well here's my bet… your glorious prize will be that I stay away from you with my pictures from January to April…"
"Four months?" Mustang's eyes widened with the possibility.
"PLUS I'll do my best to keep Armstrong away from you with his stories."
Roy felt his draw drop slightly, "What do you want me to do?"
"You have to go in front of the entire military at the dance you scheduled and kiss… Riza Hawkeye," Hughes finished with a triumphant gleam in his cat-like eyes.
"Are… you… INSANE!?" Roy howled. His tongue worked insanely fast as swear word after swear word slipped out. Hughes waited for his friend to calm down. Once Roy's shouts had died to low mutters and his face has gone down a notch in redness he threw out his next offer.
"I'll buy you food for the next month."
"No…" Roy breathed; his black hair had gone astray with his outburst and he was panting from the explosion of energy.
"I'll find you a decent woman that wears miniskirts…" Hughes threw out calmly, dangling the bait before Roy once more.
"You drive… a hard bargain…" Mustang trailed off, straightening himself once more. His face still burned a shade of red.
Hughes smiled as he loaded on the juiciest bait he had to offer, "I'll keep away from you with my pictures from January until April, hold off Armstrong at the same time and… I'll do a large portion of your paperwork."
"How large are we talking?"
"A third of all the work Hawkeye gives you."
"It's a bet," Roy agreed, his hand outstretched as he gave Hughes's a firm shake.
"See you around, Roy!" Hughes called, waving as he bounded away excitedly. Mustang retreated much more slowly, his head swimming with the fact that he just accepted such a ridiculous bet. He felt his face flush a light shade of red as he thought of getting up on the stage… in front of so many inquisitive faces… leading an unsuspecting Hawkeye onto the stage… and then…
"WHY AM I SUCH AN IDIOT!?" Roy yelled to the bland ceiling. He rounded the corner to the office and nearly jumped out of his skin as an inquisitive pair of copper orbs peered into his.
"What did you say, sir?"
"N-nothing, Hawkeye. Say would you… that is if you're not too busy… would you tell the people on this list that I need them to meet me in Conference Room B tomorrow at noon. I need to coordinate this dance…" Roy's uncharacteristic nervousness caused Hawkeye to worry, her brow creased with a slight concern. He fumbled in his pockets, pulling out a sheet of paper covered in a flowing script and passing it to Hawkeye.
"Of course, sir… are you alright?"
"Huh?" Mustang snapped out of his frantic thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit stressed out is all…"
"If you say so…" Hawkeye snapped a salute and exited the room with an air of importance. Mustang groaned and sunk low into his chair that didn't seem so large anymore, burying his face into his open palms. What was he going to do now?
…
Hughes practically skipped down the lengthy corroders of Central Headquarters before he paused. Facing nobody and seeming to speak to the thin air, a voice called out to him.
"Did he agree?"
"His fate is sealed." Hughes turned to watch as the older Elric appeared from the shadows, an accomplished expression plastered all over his face.
"Then it's my turn."
Edward slunk off, his mind set on one goal: to make sure EVERYONE knew about this dance and ensure that all of Central Headquarters was aware of the bet.
…
Hughes was whistling a happy tune a few minutes after his encounter with Edward and the Colonel when he came face-to-face with, none other then, First Lieutenant Hawkeye. "Hughes, I was hoping I'd run into you," she said to him.
"Well, why do you need me?" Hughes wondered innocently.
"I'm sure you're aware of the dance Mustang has scheduled."
"Indeed I am…"
"You're on the dance committee; he needs you to meet him tomorrow at noon in Conference Room B," Hawkeye informed him, all business.
"Of course. Thanks, Hawkeye."
Hawkeye's icy expression faded. She continued, "I'm worried about Mustang; he's not getting much sleep and he's very stressed out lately. Could you keep an eye on him for me please?"
Hughes's eyes widened slightly. "Sure."
Hawkeye smiled at this news. "Thank you, Hughes." She strode away, her blonde hair flashing over the heads of a few of the other soldiers. Hughes smiled to himself; she would definitely be good for the colonel.
Hawkeye returned to Roy's office to report that she had followed the list when she found the young bachelor with his face buried in his hands… the exact position he had adopted over an hour ago. "Sir," She began walking over to where Roy was hunched over, "I finished my task and I would like to ask a favor of you."
Roy raised his head slightly. "Sure, what is it?"
"Go get some sleep."
Mustang gave Hawkeye a look like she'd grown a second head. "What? But it's only four! There's no way I can leave; I still have to review and sign these documents, and there was that break-in the other day, not to mention the fact that I have to consider some of the kinks in the dance…" Hawkeye ignored Roy's rant and placed a cool palm on his warm forehead, earning her an instant blush from the colonel. "You know what? On second thought, I don't feel so good. Perhaps I should go back and rest."
"I'm glad you see it my way. You're running a slight fever. I'll walk you home, sir."
"No, you don't have to do that…"
"I insist. It's the first of December; you can't go getting sick before you finish your work for the dance," Riza prompted, tossing Mustang his black coat as she donned hers. Mustang groaned inwardly. All she had on her mind was work… what in the world did he see in her?
…
"Sir… sir!"
Mustang snapped out of his thoughts when a familiar hand waved in front of his face. "I'm sorry, what were you saying, Hawkeye?"
"Your stomach's growling, sir."
Roy stared incoherently at his stomach as it let lose another grumble. "Well would you look at that?" Mustang shoved his way past a crowd of people watching a street performer dance and swindle them of their money. His stomach gave another growl when the tempting scent of ramen wafted up his nose. He turned to Hawkeye; she was watching him closely, a trace of a smile on her lips.
"Did you eat today, sir?"
"Stop calling me 'sir', Hawkeye. We're not on duty, you know."
Hawkeye frowned. "I'm always on duty when I'm with you… sir." Roy sighed and rolled his eyes. Hawkeye went on to say, "Plus you avoided my question."
"Well…no…"
Hawkeye sighed, building herself up for yet another lecture. "Sir, you need to eat more often, especially since you're not getting very much sleep at all these days…"
Roy tugged Hawkeye's arm toward the stand where the delicious smell was wafting from. "Yeah, yeah. 'Sir this' and 'sir that'; lets get something to eat," Mustang teased. The two officials sat on top of the stools positioned before the stand. In moments Roy was faced with one of the toughest decisions he had to make... beef or shrimp? The beef was thick and savory but the shrimp was rare and zesty. Which one to eat; which one!? The decision was too hard to make! Mustang stared blankly at the menu.
" ...And beef ramen for the man."
Roy snapped out of his trance, causing Riza to fix her superior with an incredulous stare. "You were staring and drooling, sir; you need more rest then I thought," Hawkeye stated. Mustang prepped a response but never got it out due to one simple factor: the bowl of beef ramen that steamed before him.
He eats like a... never mind... Hawkeye thought, shaking her head and delving (much slower) into her bowl of shrimp ramen. Having finished his meal at unknown speeds Roy proceeded to send longing glances at Riza's food, noticing the plump shrimp, the thick noodles...
"Mph!"
Hawkeye had shoved a wad of noodles, coupled with a plump piece of shrimp, into Roy's slightly open mouth.
"You were staring again. You need to work on that."
Roy felt an unwanted burning sensation on his cheeks and he turned his head to hide the faint blush forming on his features. Why is it that SHE'S the only one that makes me blush so easily? Get it together Mustang! You'll be home soon... "Ready?"
Hawkeye nodded, drawing her coat tighter about her lean frame to fight off the chill winds. The duo rounded the corner at the edge of the street, allowing a few medium sized houses to peak over the more modest shops in Central City. Nearing the edge of the main road, Roy and Riza were met by a group of playing kids. Two boys were racing wooden trucks across the cobblestones, swerving to and fro while shouting at each other.
"My truck is the fastest!"
"No, MY truck is the fastest!"
"Yours is just a piece of junk!"
"Is NOT!"
Somehow, in the midst of their bickering the boys ended up trucking right toward each other, barely ditching their wooden vehicles before collision. Their trucks, on the other hand, collided at top speeds and instantly broke. A shower of splinters came off of the wooden creations and the two trucks were soon... one. The two boys, both being around six or seven years old, sat with quivering lips, trying their best not to wail. Mustang sighed, feeling his compassionate side dominate his drive to maintain a cold image. The state alchemist broke off of the crowd around the two boys and drew a transmutation circle around the two totaled trucks, activating it seconds later. There was a quick intake of breath as the crowd gasped at the flying sparks that wrapped themselves around the toy trucks. There was a mini-explosion resulting in a shower of dust and soon the two trucks stood apart, good as new.
"Thanks, mister! Mine looks even BIGGER now!"
"Yeah, but mine's COOLER!"
"I bet mine's faster!"
"No, MY truck's the fastest!"
Mustang melded back into the crowd after gaining a grateful nod from the boys' mother. A pair of copper eyes found his coal-black orbs and Hawkeye smiled approvingly at the Colonel. Roy felt another blush coming and sought to hide it when he caught a dirty look from several citizens. Some even took a disgusted step backwards and spat a few angry words at Mustang. Roy raised his head proudly and ducked away from the crowd, joining Hawkeye a few feet away.
They walked in silence for a few moments and Hawkeye noticed faintly that her steps matched the Colonel's easily. She was the first to break the silence. "That was a good thing you did."
Roy gave a slight smile. "I know; I'm just tired of everyone giving me such dirty looks and treating me like..." He sighed before finishing his thought, "like a Dog of the Military."
Understanding surfaced behind Riza's copper orbs and she spoke softly to Mustang, "I understand how you feel." A sense of calm stole over Roy for the first time in what felt like ages in knowing that he actually did have someone that understood him. Roy rubbed his messy hair and looked away as he paused in front of the brown door to his house, not completely understanding the vibes in the air.
"Thanks for walking me home," He finally said sheepishly.
"Anytime... Roy."
Hawkeye smiled at the shock that crossed the colonel's face before waving and walking away, her black coat moving with her fluid steps. Roy coughed slightly and unlocked his door. One thought crossed his mind: was that a blush he'd seen forming on her face...?
DING DONG!
"Coming!"
The sun had given up on December first, weary from the day's work, though not nearly as weary as a certain colonel. A frosty chill filled the air beyond the walls of Roy Mustang's living quarters and he fed the fire warming up his house on his way to the door. Nerves filled his stomach with uncertainty. What if it was Hawkeye? Roy glanced down at his navy blue pajamas and frowned at this thought. His messy hair accented his tired appearance well as he fixed an eye on the peephole in his door. Shock at what he saw there caused him to take several steps back. "No… It can't be... someone must have set me up!"
Yes! I did it! Bet Chapter One is complete! IT LIVES! Thanks for reading, any questions, comments, or ideas are always welcome. Until next chapter!
Kaze-kun