Hello everyone! He's my debut in the FMA fandom with a royai giftfic for my precious baby stormyink!
As usual this story makes me feel nervous because, 1. it's a giftfic, 2. I haven't grasped the proper way to write them in character yet, 3. the title makes it sound super lame, and 4. I'm just a nervous wreck when it comes to royai and zelink I'm sorry.
But I hope you enjoy it and find this as funny as I do! This is the longest one-shot I've ever written, I'm impressed with myself haha.
Go check stormyink's profile if you're into SnK, or just talk to her, she's super super nice!
Enjoy!
:Drinking Buddy:
Black Hayate walked close to her feet as ordered, and Riza expertly balanced a bag of groceries in one arm whilst she held both an umbrella and the end of his leash on her other hand, carefully maneuvering her way from the grocery shop to her apartment to avoid the puddles that were quickly forming. A light rain fell from the grey clouds, yet the streets were busting with life, umbrellas of every color seen here and there, people going inside cafés for hot drinks, and children running and hopping on the puddles, splashing water at the passerby.
Her dog jumped over a thin stream of water; she sighed in contentment at the sight.
It had been a busy week. There was so much paperwork to sort and sign that she felt like her hands were numb, her neck was surely stiff and her back wasn't at its best, and that was all thanks to the Colonel that was a master in the arts of procrastination and knew the best tricks for hiding important documents where the always watchful eyes of his right hand woman would never find. Sometimes she wanted to hold a gun to his head until everything was finished, but she had her own work to do and had to make sure the others were doing their part correctly; besides, the Colonel was no child, he could do it all without pressure if he only tried to concentrate a little.
His problem wasn't even standing still; that he could do perfectly, with his eyes closed and soft snores coming out of his parted lips. She had already lost count of how many times she dropped a particularly heavy book on the tabletop to wake him up, and sometimes the light click of the safety of her gun was enough to bring him back to his senses. Of course that was a bit extreme. Even though she did feel like pointing a weapon at him for this reason or another, she would never do so. There was no need to, he knew he had responsibilities. But still he and the other boys had an unvoiced fear that one day she would shoot – them or something else just to scare them; that she didn't know - so leaving her gun in plain sight was enough to make them work harder (not that her companions needed that extra push, but the Colonel was a completely different matter).
It was both fun and funny, honestly, the way that he jumped up when the drawer in which she hid her gun slid open so quietly – and he could hear it loud and clear even when they were in separate rooms and the door was closed; that, my friends, that was fear. He said once that one day he would open his eyes and see a hole on his door and glass littering the floor; she said she doubted that would ever happen, but then again, it could come in handy.
Such an ambitious guy with a dream to become Führer, and yet he couldn't finish his paper work in time.
Hayate stepped on a puddle, tail wagging excitedly. The last thing she wanted to do when she got home was to dry him before cooking dinner and going to bed early to catch up on sleep, but that was exactly what she had to add in her schedule, for the leash fell from her fingers and the shiba inu darted forward into a small crowd on the sidewalk. Riza picked up her pace, the bag of groceries preventing her from going much faster, the rain and the umbrella creating some sort of resistance, and she chased after him, lightly pushing people off of her path until she found her pet standing outside a bar and sniffing the hands of a crouched man whose back was turned to her. Great; the last thing she wanted to do now was deal with a much probably drunk man.
She approached him just enough to leave a much needed respectful (and careful) distance between their bodies, and the man stood then, and she cursed, or thanked, all the stars above when she recognized him. "Good evening, Colonel."
Roy Mustang was known for a few titles and nicknames, some of which he despised, some of which he tolerated, and some of which had the sole purpose of fueling his ego. The one title that came to mind at the moment was given by Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc; drinking buddy. "Hey, Hawkeye." He was dressed casually, giving off the impression that he wasn't as important as he actually was, and the way he looked at her made her wonder if she should drop the formalities or not.
Of course not.
"Hayate." The dog sauntered over to her again as if nothing had happened and once he was on the spot he should never have left, she slid her gaze back at her superior. "Out for a drink?"
His shoulders shook as he chuckled. "That's what I had planned but," then he glanced at the doors and suppressed a grimace; the poor bartender had listened way too much about him and his past, now he just pretended to listen and bobbed his head up and down out of habit – Roy wouldn't have noticed the gesture anyway. He was also pretty sure that he had his own stool by now, with his name sewn on the red leather with golden thread. So he simply shrugged, admitted that he had given up on that for the evening and simply slipped his hands inside the pockets of his pants.
A nod was the answer he got and Riza glanced down at the leash before crouching low and fumbling with the things in her arms in order to free a hand to pick it back up, and thankfully he noticed her struggle and decided to help her by picking the leash and putting it on her now empty palm. "Need some help?"
She smiled slightly as they stood. "I'd appreciate it." And so he took the umbrella and grocery bag from her hands, and accompanied her to her home with Black Hayate cradled securely in her arms.
"Not the wisest decision to walk your dog and go grocery shopping in this weather, Lieutenant."
Roy held the umbrella above their heads, slightly tilted to the left so she would be more sheltered than him; his clothes were already damp anyway, and besides, he was a true gentleman. "Not the wisest decision to go out drinking without an umbrella in this weather, sir."
He smirked, defeated.
The following silence that accompanied them to her home was familiar, that same silence that appeared when they were the only ones in a room full of documents to read and sign, the same that disappeared and left them suffocating when they were in stressful situations, such as missions and important meetings. It was through this void of words that they communicated best, when all the things they couldn't bring themselves to voice was said without any hesitation and fear despite knowing each other for more than they could remember. But lately it wasn't making her comfortable at all. This silence screamed problem in her ears in an incredibly high pitch, and an alarm blared loudly in the back of her mind as red lights flashed dangerously behind her eyes. The close proximity that came with the need to hide from the rain made her breathless, it caused her heartbeat to quicken and her blood to run hotly through her arteries.
Then she caught him humming under his breath; her fingertips twitched and her ears tingled.
It was all because of her lack of sleep, Riza told herself endlessly, repeating it till infinity and back; it could be simply cured with a good, very long night of sleep.
She refused to believe and acknowledge her feelings. Imagine that, the Colonel liking her. Hah.
Black Hayate pressed his wet nose to her neck and successfully snapped her back into the present. Roy had gone from humming to whistling, apparently unaffected and oblivious of her internal struggle. The colonel never seemed to be bothered by problems outside work, unlikely as it was because everyone had their fair share of things that kept them awake at night (and she knew so well that he had little demons haunting his dreams), but even so he never showed he was bothered, he never voiced any of his problems... He was just like her in that aspect, and she didn't think he'd come running to her to spew it all out when she wouldn't do that herself.
Riza had no doubts that he cared for her just as much she cared for him; if anything, the thin scar on her neck was a reminder of the day in which he was ready to give up his whole career to save her life, but still they kept their problems hidden from the other. They weren't obligated to tell, of course, but as close as they were, they had never sat down to talk about personal matters. Most of their talk consisted of work related subjects, and if it wasn't that they were either talking about her pet dog, or they weren't talking at all.
Mild chit chat was a foreign terrain they had never ventured in together.
(And he cared for her as one would care for a subordinate, she told herself, swallowing down her quickening palpitations.)
"Here we are." They stopped under the dark blue awning of her apartment building. Roy lowered the umbrella and grinned at her; Riza then decided to stop worrying about these things. "Would you mind lending me it so I can get home? I promise to bring it back to you on Monday. Or tomorrow perhaps?"
Her amber eyes focused on the object in his hand as if weighing if whether or not it should be lent to him. "You're not going straight home."
His shoulders dropped; caught again. "Yeah, not exactly. First I need to get myself something to cook."
"Sir," she started slowly, "I've seen you cooking." He gave her a sheepish smile and turned his head away as he cleared his throat. Instant noodles and things that could be easily prepared or heated were on the top of his grocery list, that, truth be told, only consisted of these items and some alcohol. When he wasn't eating sandwiches at home, he was eating them somewhere else; when he was eating something that wasn't bread or noodles, it was on a rare, most likely special, occasion. It wasn't like he minded spending money on food; he just didn't care much about it and preferred to spend it on drinks.
Riza put her dog down and scratched his head lightly before shrugging and throwing all her previous problems to the wind. "Why don't you stay for dinner then?"
He looked taken aback, as if she had just invited him to perform another human transmutation. He could remember all the times he entered her apartment, invited or not, and none of them lasted more than five minutes. His lieutenant rarely had any visits over (the only one that he knew of was the older Elric brother, that brat!), so despite the idle feeling crawling at his chest saying don't disturb her, he nodded his head and followed her inside the well kept entrance hall. Screw it, he thought; if she was finally inviting him over, who was he to decline?
Up five sets of stairs they went, and on the long hallway lined with doors they stopped by the third to their right. She unlocked the door with ease and allowed him inside, then proceeded to lean her umbrella against the wall so it could dry and took the grocery bag from his hands before moving to the kitchen area. His empty hands found their way to the pockets of his pants once more and Roy allowed himself to analyze every inch of her apartment that his gaze landed upon. Only the essential could be seen and very little decoration was found; mostly, her apartment was just like his small house, but unlike his home she had more in her living room than only a lonely couch.
"Could you please dry Hayate while I prepare our dinner?" Roy looked up at the blonde that approached him with a worn out towel in her hands, undoubtedly used only for that sole purpose, and he complied, taking the material from her fingers and snapping his own to call the dog closer. Riza smiled in thanks and returned the way she had came, and the Colonel focused his attention on the shiba inu sniffing his shoes. That was the only way she'd allow him to help her, he knew that; Riza wouldn't let him get close to the stove in a million years.
Cabinets were opened randomly as instruments were set on the counter, water ran free for a moment to fill a casserole and soon she was expertly chopping things and setting them aside. He could barely remember how her food tasted like, having eaten it for the last time when he was still studying under her father's tutorage, and he wondered briefly if she had gotten better at it.
Hayate shook his fur and went after his owner when Roy had finished, and the man folded the towel as his eyes swept along the room. He approached a shelf containing three photographs by an empty flower vase: one of the Mustang Unit, one of the Elric brothers, Alphonse with his body restored, and one of the Hughes family taken when Maes was still among them. Not wanting to go down that road again and not exactly feeling like glaring at a picture of the blond, Roy scooped the photograph of his team in his hand and brought it closer to his face to better see it. He stood in the center with Hawkeye to his right as usual, Fuery by her side and the other three men to his left. The youngest man of the group stood close to the only female, like a kid would to its mother. The Colonel didn't have any doubts that Kain saw her as a motherly figure; having her help and direct him when he had joined their team at the young age of eighteen surely contributed to strengthen the bond that was being formed.
Hawkeye could be extremely understanding and calming when the situation asked her to be. She was often the one that consoled children that were found in crime scenes close to their parents' bodies, Alphonse usually sought her for comfort and solace when he needed, and Edward sometimes asked her for advice. Once she had received flowers under their name and none of the other members of the unit understood why they made her smile so softly until Fuery had quietly stated that it was Mother's Day. Whether they had sent her the flowers with that intent or if it was purely a coincidence, Roy guessed they would never really know.
Fuery aside, the others probably saw her as a sister (on Havoc's case, a potential love interest perhaps). It was unknown to Roy how she visualized them, as well as the way he saw her himself. A loyal and close friend, yes, but was she only that?
No, much more than that.
He swallowed thickly.
"Can I offer you a drink?" She asked from the kitchen, and Roy quickly put the photograph back where it belonged with shaky hands. "Water, maybe wine?"
"Wine?" Eyebrows arched up, the Colonel stopped by the doorstep and watched her put chopped carrots and green beans on the now boiling water. "I didn't know you liked drinking." On the few nights when the unit went out together, she and Fuery were the only ones to never touch anything that could be alcoholic. Falman and Breda knew how to drink responsibly, Mustang and Havoc, however, usually ended up intoxicated, hence the nickname, drinking buddy.
She nodded her head and glanced at him from over her shoulder. "Only when the mood strikes." He bobbed his head once to show his acknowledgement and let her go back to the task at hand. Loyal close friend, yes, that he knew for most of his life, yes, that he was madly in love with, yes, and yet he didn't know that. Maybe she knew more of him than he knew of her.
Riza tossed the bite-sized meat bits in the frying pan to cook them evenly and used her other hand to throw in spices for additional flavor. Hayate stood on his hind paws to get a better sniff of the appetizing smell filling her apartment, and quickly went back on all fours when his owner pointed him with a hardened glance. Proof that she could be great with kids stood right before her superior, slightly wagging his tail as his rounded eyes stole glances at the pan in her hands; after all, small children and puppies were essentially the same thing, and Hawkeye had raised her dog perfectly, taught it how to behave and trained him so well that he could even help the unit. But Roy had his doubts if she would ever get married and have kids of her own; she devoted her life to her work, and one could simply say that she had married it.
(If he stopped to think, he was basically her work, so one could consider that they were married. But that never crossed his mind.)
"So?" He snapped back from his reverie at the sound of her voice, having completely forgotten that she had asked him something.
"Wine is fine." His lieutenant cocked her head to the side, directing her gaze to the newly bought bottle that stood close to fresh vegetables. Excusing himself, Roy took the liberty of searching through her cabinets for glasses and uncorked the bottle, then poured each of them half of a glass before putting the cork back in the hole and sliding her glass closer to her. He took a sip, mind set on taking it easy so he wouldn't bother her any more than he already was, and leaned his hip back on the counter as Riza now added the cooked meat to the thick water and vegetables.
After she had put the lid on the casserole and moved away from the stove to set the table, he spoke. "Once you told me you didn't have a flower vase," and to emphasize he stared at the black vase with golden linings sitting on her shelf. "When did you get one?"
A white towel covered the whole round surface of her table, and she smoothed it with her palms. "Havoc bought it for me. Said it reminded him of me for some odd reason." He nodded when she went back to retrieve plates and cutlery, eyebrows minimally drawing down. "But I bet he was only drunk," Riza added as an afterthought, "Just like you were when you called me saying you had bought a car full of flowers."
Roy cracked a grin and set down his glass. "I remember that. They all died thanks to you."
She snorted lightly as she placed a spoon by a plate. "As if I have enough space and time to nurse a bunch of flowers."
He pressed a palm to his chest and feigned a hurt expression. "Ouch, Hawkeye, I actually bought them thinking of you."
"Sure you did," she laughed and went back to stirring the food, scoffing at the way he frowned at her and playfully pouted his lips. "You big baby."
"Don't you think that's a bit too much?" He inquired after noticing the amount of cooking liquid in the casserole.
With a teaspoon she scooped up some of the stew and tasted it. "Yes, but I promised Falman and Fuery that I'd take them some of it tomorrow." And she had just confirmed his suspicions that, yes, the latter definitely saw her as a maternal figure.
A couple of minutes later and dinner was ready, and it was served with a loaf of bread. Hawkeye apologized for the simplicity, claiming that had she known she would have company for the night she would have bought and prepared something more intricate, and not a meal that resembled their usual lunch at the headquarters, but he simply brushed it off and assured her it would taste better than the watery soup served, though the only visible difference between her meal and the other was that hers was slightly darker, even the bread, that undoubtedly was whole wheat.
So they ate, in silence for once, without the constant chattering of comrades around them or ideas and plans and suspicions being secretly shared among superior and subordinate in a sea of blue uniforms. Just like he had told her, her stew was better, much, much better than the simple, almost tasteless soup they usually ate, and he really tried to recall in vain if it was better than the ones she prepared for dinner many summers ago. It was such a distant memory, all these times when they were younger and he spent his days locked inside his room studying hard while she went about to school and did house chores. They talked often, though briefly, for she didn't want to slow him down, and he admitted he usually caught himself glancing out the window and watching her sitting on the front yard of their secluded house, away from town, by herself, with her knees tucked under her chin and fingers picking at the blades of grass. Then later he'd have the sudden realization that her father was slowly, but surely, seeing him as the son interested in alchemy that he had always wanted to have, but didn't, and if poor Riza Hawkeye was neglected by her father before, her condition was only bound to get worse.
But she never seemed fazed by it at all, as if she was just as detached as her father was. When asked about it, she simply shrugged, amber eyes distant and longing as she said in a firm, yet somehow gentle, voice that it had always been like this since the parting of her mother. Bertholdt Hawkeye buried himself in books and researches in an attempt to muffle the sad feeling that was slowly swallowing him whole. "It's better this way," she said once, one of the few times in which she had allowed him to see inside her mind; "He could've picked on another bad habit, like drinking."
Later he understood she wasn't really saying that alchemy was bad, but having too much of it wasn't healthy either.
Throughout dinner he realized she had refilled his cup for the fourth time; so much for trying to hold back his alcohol intake in his Lieutenant's home. Then after her fingers lifted off the cool surface of the bottle, she hooked two digits under a napkin and reached for his face across the table, wiping the corner of his lips absentmindedly. Her actions only registered in her mind when she was about to pick her spoon again, hand stilling above the metal for half a second before she resumed her movement and went back to eating as if nothing had happened.
It had always been like this, since the start; that he could remember well. She had always been the one to clean and bandage his wounds when he got hurt practicing, she was the one who stood by his bedside when he was bedridden in a hospital deprived of his sight, cutting up fruits and feeding him when he wouldn't let anyone else do that. He didn't enjoy the feeling of being taken care of and with her doing all these things he never felt like n incompetent child, he just felt secure. Safe.
(He had considered banishing any nurses that wanted to clean him and have her do that instead, but that would be pushing his luck way too far).
By the time they had finished, the rain was much heavier than before. Mustang offered to wash the dishes, Hawkeye thanked him and prepared to separate her stew in five portions; she decided at some point that evening that both Breda and Havoc deserved a bit of it, and the Colonel too, him especially. With all the dishes now clean, dried and set aside, they sat in her living room, unsure on how to spend the time and fill the silence while they waited for the rain to pass and give him a chance to go home. Hayate still was in the kitchen, hungrily licking at a small portion of stew that remained and saving the cooked chicken leg for later.
Seconds ticked away soundlessly and they sipped their drinks, backs resting against the couch and legs stretched out, slowly loosening and warming up, tentatively trying to start small talks and keep a conversation going. Thunder cracked and they jumped up in alarm only to giggle madly at each other's faces. He had always imagined her to be highly tolerant to alcohol, but really, her tolerance was average, just slightly higher than his. The dog entered the living room, bone between his sharp teeth, and settled himself under the coffee table, watching them with curious rounded eyes before turning to the last part of his meal.
Roy tried to uncork the third bottle of wine, one of the other six remaining that Riza kept in her pantry just in case, and as the cork flew away and wine spilled on the non-carpeted floor, he quickly passed her the bottle and fumbled to take off his dark, thin coat, draping it on the crimson puddle. "But why would you do that?" Her hand shook as she poured more and more liquid into the glasses, he simply shrugged his shoulders.
"Imagine Havoc's face when I tell him I saw you drinking," he said from behind the rim of his cup, that mischievous glint in his eyes again.
She gasped over dramatically, "You wouldn't."
A cheeky grin settled on his lips. "Yes, I would." With another undignified gasp, she pushed him away with a shove to his shoulder. Roy rocked to the side, spilling more wine in the process, but when he leaned back and sat upright again, it was his turn to push her away, so he pressed his palm on her sternum and forced her backwards. Her arm shot out and grabbed his sleeve, dragging him down with her, but they never hit the floor, he held them both back; the wine in her glass, however, all but jumped off its confine.
When their quiet laughter subsided, he asked again. "I wonder why we never stopped to drink before... Or just talk."
Riza hummed thoughtfully, searching her mind for an answer, but it was hard to see through the fog settling in. "There must be a reason," she said finally after setting down her nearly empty glass, "but I can't remember it at the moment."
He nodded, gaze focused on his hand. "Do you ever get any visits?"
"Not really. Sometimes the boys drop by to steal Hayate away for a day, minus Breda of course, other times Al appears randomly at my doorstep."
His eyes found her face again. "The Elrics come by East City and don't visit me? I'm hurt."
She chuckled, fingers rubbing the back of her foot gently. "You'd only end up arguing with Ed again."
"But that's the fun of it," he mumbled against his glass, narrowed eyes now glancing sideways. "Why don't you invite me over?"
"For what? So you can drink all my wine for free?"
Her taunting went ignored by him. A deep gulp, and then his annoyed voice reached her ears, "What does Alphonse want anyway?"
One eyebrow quirked up at his words. "Why? Jealous?"
He snorted. "You bet. The kid had a crush on you!"
"Oh yes, he told me that." She leaned forward on her bent legs and rested her cheek on her knees. "On that one night," then she sighed, almost dreamily.
Something ticked under his skin, crawling through his body like a venomous spider. "What night?" He asked, ordered her to tell him.
The blonde blinked, "When he asked me out." A smile and a short chime of laughter, eyes closed in delight. "What? You didn't know?"
It took him a few seconds to register her words, but the Colonel finally snapped. "What the fu-" He stood up quickly and hastily, nearly lost his footing and dropped his glass in the process, more wine spread across the hardwood floor, but thankfully nothing was broken. Riza reached for the fallen utensil while openly laughing at his incredulous and stunned expression, pink cheeks catching his attention for a moment before he scowled. "Hey!" He exclaimed, almost feeling embarrassed.
"Oh, come on," her hand found his and she tugged him down to the floor again. "Did you really believe that?" Roy grumbled incoherently, eyes averted and own face reddening, and it wasn't because of the alcohol. She clicked her tongue and passed him his glass after it was refilled. "I'm twenty nine, he's only seventeen."
A grunt was her only answer. "Winry said she can see him marrying that Xingese girl, May Chang, wasn't she?" The Lieutenant ran her fingers on the nape of her neck and up to her hair, successfully unclipping it with one hand. It fell around her shoulders gloriously, shining like liquid gold and as soft looking as silken sheets; his mouth went dry and he cleared his throat to speak.
"I've heard rumors that they were pretty close." He watched transfixed as her fingers skimmed through her hair, face turned sideways and half lidded eyes staring at an invisible point ahead. "What about her, though? Got any closer to declaring to Fullmetal?"
Hawkeye released a long breath through her mouth. "She says he's too thick to see all the signs she's giving him." They both chuckled, solemnly, dreading for the poor girl that had feelings for the guy that knew so very little about romance.
Roy tilted his glass in her direction as if offering a salute. "I could give him some advice."
"Please, don't." She answered a bit too quickly and snickered when he scowled at her. "You can tell the boys you saw me drinking," said Riza as she reached for her own glass, "but you can't help him on that matter. Nor tell them that we're both kind of drunk."
He shrugged his shoulders again and clicked his glass against hers. "Fine, but I don't know if I can keep the last part a secret."
With that said, she suddenly realized that he was now her drinking buddy too.
Her eyebrows knitted down, but her lips pulled into a gentle smirk, "You bastard."
They emptied both glasses and bottle in that last shot then, and put everything aside to refrain from wanting and seeking out more. Once again they were just staring at each other, silently. Through the darkness (in her half drunk stupor she hadn't bothered to turn on the lights), she caught sight of a deep red stain on the corner of his mouth when lightning flashed in the sky and placed her thumb over it, gently rubbing the spot to clean it away; he turned his head and pressed his lips against the digit, and felt the air shift as she froze in place. Then his fingers were on her lips, which parted beautifully under his touch, and they dove inside her mouth until his fingertips touched the tip of her tongue that rested behind her teeth. Riza traced the outline of his mouth, spread her fingers and placed her cool palm on his cheek, coaxing him to lean into her touch. His digits traced her jaw, massaged behind her ear and his long fingers wove their way through her silk-like hair, enclosing around it.
He shuffled to his knees, approached her until her bent legs were pressed against his chest and he, anxiously but slowly, leaned his forehead on hers, breaths mingling in the space left between their faces and eyes locked with each other as if in a trance. Her other palm came up and pressed against the pulse on his neck, his other stroked her waist before settling on the gentle curve of her hips possessively. She welcomed his touch with a smile and tilted her head up, letting him close the gap.
Roy had his past dates and that wasn't a secret to anyone. Some said he was reasonable and slept with only a few, others said he dated over 90% of the female population of Amestris, kids and grannies aside. Innumerous girls had seen the inside of his bedroom, but he couldn't remember the name of most of them. Those that he kissed (read: all of them), they weren't like this. They didn't have pent up years of loving from afar and years of devotion and loyalty to unload in a simple touch of their lips. Whatever they had in mind when they kissed him, it didn't come close to this.
It was wonderful and refreshing.
He angled his head, tongue slipping past his mouth to trace her lips and she let it in, welcoming it with her own. They would grow tired, they would release all these hidden feelings tonight, but he was sure that if they had the chance for it to happen again, it would be just as intense. Intense in feeling, in emotion, not in motion. The kiss itself was tender, slow, hungry in its own way. Her fingers had curled around the collar of his dress shirt and he held her pressed flush against his front, one arm around her waist, one hand lost in her golden hair, both on their knees and clinging to each other. She could feel his heat emanating from his body, seeping into her pores and settling low on her stomach. Riza shivered when his palm pressed against the small of her back, and bit his bottom lip gently as she pulled away for a breath.
With great effort he cracked his eyes open and his clouded eyes met with her misty ones. "I think," she cleared her throat, hesitated then continued in a low tone; "I think this is why we never drink together, just the two of us." He chuckled, lips pulling into a wide grin, showing white teeth and all, and dove in to steal another kiss, and another and another, until the effects of their drinks started to wear off and tiredness kicked in.
It was silent outside. The rain had stopped and so Roy stood up after kissing her chastely on the corner of her mouth. "Stay." She was on her feet by the time he got close to the door, and he whirled around to face her, his heart skipping a beat. "It's late. You can stay for the night."
Another wide grin appeared on his face; Roy quickly strode over to her and wrapped his arms around her form, looking at her lovingly through hooded eyes. "Don't get too excited," she said with a tired laugh, holding back a yawn. "You're sleeping on the couch."
He whined, shoulders dropping. "Aw, Riza, come on..."
The Lieutenant smiled at the sound of her name and craned her neck to place a kiss on his chin, and murmured against his skin, "You big baby."
Light seeped in through the open window, caressing his face and waking him up from his slumber, dissipating clouds of passionate, absolutely dirty dreams that involved that blonde First Lieutenant of his. With languid motions he reached up to rub sleep away from his eyes and run his hand down his face, his usual routine when trying to get out of bed, or in his case at the moment, the couch. Hayate, having heard low shuffling noises, raced from the kitchen to his side, tail wagging and wet snout searching for his hand for a lick. Mustang allowed him to do so before patting the dog on the head, and finally found the strength to sit up, kick away the blanket and stretch his arms.
His bones clicked and popped as he walked to the window, squinting and shielding his eyes away from the bright Saturday morning light. Clouds could be seen everywhere, but they were nowhere near the grey tint of the rain clouds that covered the skies on the previous day. Inhaling deeply through his nose, the Colonel turned to follow the smell coming from the kitchen and leaned on the frame of the door as he watched her working.
He could get used to the sight, he really could. Her hair was down, still messy from sleep, but he knew she had run her fingers through it to settle it down. Dressed in a cerulean robe with her pajamas underneath and bare feet on the cold tilled floor, Riza stood with her back to him, facing the stove as she prepared yet another meal.
"You'd look better if you were wearing my dress shirt only," he said with a smirk, not at all prepared for the apple that was tossed over her shoulder and would have hit him square on the forehead had he not moved away in time.
She shot him a smirk, but said nothing regarding his advances.
What a shame, what a pity, he thought as he pulled back a chair and took a seat, already reaching for a mug filled with dark coffee, the only one on the table; after the kisses and moments they shared, he was absolutely sure she was finally his. Apparently he was wrong; of course Riza Hawkeye wouldn't give herself to him so easily like that.
A plate with toasts and scrambled eggs was placed before him, the fruit bowl on the counter was moved to the tabletop and finally Riza sat down across from the Colonel with a plate of her own. "I washed your coat for you," he looked up at her, smiling in thanks but saying through his eyes that it wasn't needed. "It'll be dry by the evening."
"I'll come by to fetch it, then." She nodded her head, and they were engulfed by silence.
Again he washed the dishes, even offered to walk Hayate and take the portions of stew to the other members of the unit. Riza didn't agree with it at all, but let him accompany her while she went about town delivering her things, always making sure to keep that respectful distance between their bodies intact. She also made sure that he carried all the plastic containers, an attempt to keep his hands busy so he wouldn't try to do anything that wasn't called for. It worked, much to her relief and much to his dismay.
It had been so easy to keep his hands to himself through all these years, but now that she had let him touch her once, he couldn't seem to stop because he simply didn't want to. Besides, anything that got his heart beating quickly and his blood flowing freely made him feel alive; she made him feel alive, with her fingers that left in their wake sparks on his skin and her lips that were perfect both to reprimand and kiss him. Not to mention that doing things in secret had always made adrenalin course through his veins like a plague, forbidden actions were both a blessing and a sin, taking her in his arms and drinking in her essence was a blessing and a sin, and for that and many other reasons he didn't know if he was going to hell or heaven if any of them truly existed.
They met with Breda and Havoc on the former's house, waiting for the other two to appear. Riza didn't waste any time to push Mustang towards the men, leftover stew and all, when asked if they could borrow him for the remainder of the day. The Colonel watched sullenly as she gave him a mock salute before leaving the area with her faithful pet dog marching by her side down the sidewalk, and before he could do anything else an arm was thrown over his shoulder and he was dragged inside the house. While they did whatever they were used to when the five of them met up, Riza quickly made her way back to her apartment, mind set on cleaning the damned huge stain of wine left on her floor.
It wasn't an easy task. She had scrubbed vigorously, poured product after product, scrubbed more, and washed it all away to repeat. Thrice. And yet she could still see a shadow of what once was there. Her shiba inu had instinctively run away to her room to get away from the strong odor, whining and rubbing at his nose with his small paws in an attempt to clean his nostrils.
Riza threw the damp mop back into the bucket and stood up, feeling a tension on her back and legs. Stretching to ease the pain settling on her muscles, she realized that it was past noon by now and her stomach was growling for attention. After a quick and simple lunch, nothing too big or too fancy, she prepared to iron the thin coat she had washed in the morning, all the while replaying the events of the past night in her head. Even though they were both thinking incoherently, nothing would have happened if the attraction wasn't mutual. She ran a hand down her face as she put the flatiron aside with a hum; as long as he kept his hands to himself in the office, then she guessed everything would be fine.
Coat hanging in her wardrobe, things put away, water now fell down on her, her stomach twisted at the thought that, maybe, one day someday, she wouldn't be able to resist his advances when they were alone at night in the office.
Her face flushed bright red and shampoo accidentally fell in her eyes.
Hours later and the red in her eyes had finally faded, the stinging sensation long gone and forgotten thankfully. The Lieutenant sat in her couch, legs stretched on the cushions, with a book in hands that was given by Gracia, some novel that she was sure was bought with the only intent of trying to trigger some sort of romance between her and her superior. She smiled sadly at the page, fingers tracing the printed letters as if she could feel them under her digits; the wife carrying on one of her deceased husband's dreams, to see his best friend together with his right hand woman.
Black Hayate was sniffing the front door before a knock could be heard, and amber eyes glanced out the window to see a deep purple hue painting the sky as the sun settled lower and lower on the horizon. She stood from the couch with a sniff and made sure to put the novel away from sight or so only God knew what the Colonel would do if she set his eyes upon the book. Walking barefooted, she gently shooed her pet aside and opened the door in an inward arc, instantly meeting the dark gaze of Roy Mustang and noticing a few things in her peripheral vision.
Her hand fell from the door knob. "Wine," her eyes shifted from his left to his right hand, an eyebrow quirked up, "and flowers."
With a cheeky grin, he entered her apartment when she stepped aside and waved her hand welcomingly. "Why, yes. This because you said I drank all of your wine for free," Roy said as he lifted the bottle shoulder level; Riza rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "And these because you finally have a flower vase." She regarded the flowers silently, of a kind that she couldn't recognize. Pink petals and random white dots all over them, a sweet, intoxicating smell that reminded her of sugar candies.
An almost bashful smile tugged at her lips as she gracefully took the bouquet from his hand when offered. "You shouldn't have."
"Anything for you, Hawkeye." He watched intently as she carefully cradled the flowers in one arm and picked the vase with her free hand, beckoning him to follow her to the kitchen with a slight nod of her head. "Oh, and I should thank you for putting up a fight this morning. I'm really glad you didn't want to part ways so easily, it warmed my heart."
Riza scoffed as she filled the vase with water then sorted the flowers in it. "You better stop talking if you don't want to have this bottle smashed to your head."
"Thank you for all the demonstrations of love, Lieutenant." He said sarcastically, placing the wine on the tabletop.
"Anything for you, sir." She turned around with a (evil, it was certainly evil, he could see it) smirk, arms crossed under her bust and leaned back on the counter. "I've got your coat clean, dried and ironed. Anything more, Colonel?"
Exhaling deeply through his nose, Mustang analyzed the situation at hands and smiled slyly at the solution he found. "Actually, there is."
She stood up straighter, "What is it?"
He shortened the distance between them, lifted a hand that hesitated in the air, moving back and forth as if double thinking his actions. "May I?" He asked in an embarrassed whisper, wondering where all his courage and skill had run off to. God, sometimes she made him feel completely stupid.
With a quiet laugh, Riza gave him her consent by nodding her head once, and his hand gently fell on her shoulder and his fingers curved around the base of her neck before his lips descended upon hers once more.