"Strictly Business"

(No spoilers, could have happened at any time during the series.)

Sexual tension in the office after hours. Oh, my. A lonely Roy tries to overextend his authority. Drunk!Roy x Unsubmissive!Riza.

1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye often wished that the Colonel would consistently keep their relationship strictly professional.

This was one of the pitfalls of being a female officer not only under a young male officer's command, but also being the only person with no Y-chromosome in his otherwise all-male staff. Though, the Colonel did seem to have enough respect for her to back off just when she started to feel uncomfortable ... when he was sober, anyway.

Sometimes during the evenings when her workload was exceptionally heavy (his silent promise was to always be the last one to leave after all his subordinates), and the rest of his staff had left for home, he'd drink a little bit of vodka or some kind of liqueur to pass the time, and ...

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

Riza, working in the office room adjacent to the Colonel's, looked up from her fourth-to-last bit of paperwork when she heard her superior call from his office. Glancing at her wristwatch, she secretly hoped he wasn't going to give her any more work. She was a workaholic, true, but not a masochist.

"Yes, Colonel?" she replied, moving on to the third-to-last paper.

The Lieutenant heard the distant thud of a small glass' base slamming down on a wood surface. "Come in here a moment, please?"

But I'm almost finished, her mind whined. Putting down her pen, Hawkeye almost hollered back the usual "You know that I'm busy, Colonel", but before she knew it she was walking across the room to step into his office.

It was rather dark, with her desk lamp in the other room serving as the only light source. A familiar mix of scents were there to greet her; there was musty smell of the old office that used to belong to some retired general, the lingering scent of this morning's coffee, and the pungent stench of alcohol. They all battled to rein supreme over the senses. The alcohol was winning.

Stopping in front of his desk, out of the corner of her eye Riza observed the culprit of the smell: a half-full (half-empty?) flask of vodka that sat like a silent companion on her commander's desk. His fingers were still loosely wrapped around an empty glass, his eyes where closed, and she realized she had been staring. "... Yes, sir?"

She watched as the Colonel's eyelids slid open lazily to reveal unfocused eyes that settled on the glass in his hand. He motioned it towards the flask. "Could you ... ah ..."

Hawkeye sighed. Judging by the fact that he was so intoxicated that he could no longer pour his own drink, he had probably had enough. But Riza opened the bottle anyway and reached for his glass, because she knew how stubborn he could be when he was "full of Dutch courage", as Lieutenant Havok put it. When her palm brushed momentarily against his fingertips he looked up at her, but she paid no mind and concentrated on pouring the drink steadily into the Colonel's glass. "Say when."

I don't understand why he enjoys drinking this foul stuff ... By the time small glass was just millimeters away from being full to the brim and the Colonel still silent, his executive officer stopped and looked up questioningly only to find him staring right at her.

It took him a few moments to realize she had caught his gaping, and he returned his attention to his drink. Nodding in thanks, the Colonel sluggishly tried to bring the glass to his reddened lips, but his grip faltered and Hawkeye's hand instinctively darted to support his hand. Despite the young woman's efforts, some of the golden liquid sloshed out and on to her hand.

Setting the glass down, she reprimanded him, biting her lip and fighting to keep calm. "Colonel ... please be more careful--"

As she retracted her hand, his hand shot out and grabbed hers, knocking over the vodka. Stifling a gasp at the mess the alcohol had made on the oak desk, Hawkeye looked up to find that his eyes were still fixated upon her. Frowning, the Lieutenant tried to pull her hand away but it wouldn't budge from his tight grip.

"Colonel Mustang," she started calmly, quietly, "Permit me to get a towel and clean the--"

"Leave it." He let go but still stared intently. "Come here, Lieutenant--"

"Sir," Hawkeye swallowed. "Just tell me what you need."

He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I just tell you ..."

Hawkeye sighed and cautiously made her way around to the other side of his desk, making sure to leave an ample amount of space between them. "What is it, Colonel?"

She watched silently, a little concerned, as he slowly attempted to get out of his seat and stand up straight. He stumbled a little and she moved to help him up. Great ... he needs to be helped home. "Can you stand, Colonel--"

Riza cried out in surprise as her commanding officer--who suddenly wasn't too wobbly on his feet anymore--grabbed her arms and pinned her back against the top of the desk. He was so close she could smell the alcohol on his breath ...

"Call me Roy," he whispered huskily into his subordinate's ear. Hawkeye felt the weaker side of her panic as she felt the edge of the desk dig against the small of her back, suddenly realizing that the pool of vodka was still there and threatening to stain her uniform a dark, unsightly color. I just had it washed--! Sure enough, she felt it seep through the rough navy fabric as the Colonel kissed her neck and proceeded to feel her upper back in a rough massage, alerting Riza to the fact that she had more to worry about than the state of her uniform.

Though she admitted secretly to herself his warm body against hers was a rare comfort, the entire moment was spoiled by the fact that he was her drunk, superior officer.

"C-colonel--!" Riza pushed his shoulders as hard as she could while her eyes darted to the office entrance, then to all sides of the room and even to the curtain-covered window, even though she knew no one was anywhere near them. She'd simply die if anyone saw them, especially if it were someone outside the Colonel's staff-- Hawkeye did not want anyone to think that she'd attained her rank from sharing a bed with her superior officer, just because she was a woman ...

Trying not to further lose her temper as his lips ventured to find hers, she kicked at his knee to gain his attention, ready to aim a little more higher and to the center if need be. "Hey! Hey!"

Roy looked up with an bland, irritated look on his face. "What?"

Hawkeye blinked and focused her eyes in the low light. "Wait ... you're not drunk!"

The Colonel's eyes widened and he gulped. "A-ah, well, I did have a drink or two but--hey!" Roy laughed nervously but grabbed her hand as she reached for her deadly sidearm. "Woah, woah, hey, I can explain, let me explain, please--!"

"There's nothing TO explain, Colonel!" Hawkeye shouted, pushing against his shoulder with her other hand. "I can't believe this! You know, I could report you for this--!"

"But you wouldn't." He stated matter-of-factly, moving his face closer to hers. "You wouldn't ..."

Riza swallowed. "Colonel ... get off me."

After a silent moment, Mustang sighed darkly and dropped pathetically back into his chair. Riza sighed in relief and sat upright on the desk, gingerly touching her back. She slid off the desk and removed her military jacket. "You wouldn't mind paying my dry cleaning bills, would you, sir?" she muttered wryly.

He grunted moodily, and she felt her temper flare. In an uncharacteristic fit of rage, Hawkeye threw her jacket on the floor and shouted at the startled Colonel. "What did you expect me to do, Colonel? Just lie there and let you have your way with me, like all the other women?"

Roy's eyes narrowed and he bowed his head. "... I don't know, Lieutenant."

Hawkeye huffed and swept her jacket off the floor. "I didn't get to where I am today by sleeping with my superior officers, and I'm not about to start now. Are you trying to damage my reputation, Colonel?"

He mutter something about how everyone already "thought they were--", anyway.

"That's my point! It's bad enough as it is!"

Mustang's eyes darted to hers, revealing a hidden frustration. "What's bad enough? Our friendship? Don't you have any feelings for me, Riza?"

"That's not it. Sir..." she took a breath and exhaled exasperatedly. "Why can't you just... stop this?"

"Stop what?"

Riza narrowed her eyes. "This! Don't think I don't notice. The way you look at me--" She looked away to the books on his desk. "--the way you touched me last week, and the innuendos--"

She stopped. At his dejected silence, Riza felt something churn in her stomach as she realized how she'd made him feel. She was silent for a moment. "... Roy--"

"No," Mustang said clearly. "No. You're right. What I'm doing is not only a breach of conduct, but unfair to you as well." He bowed slightly. "Please, forgive me, First Lieutenant."

"Colonel ..." Hawkeye was at an uncharacteristic loss for words as her commanding officer saluted (for the first time in her life, she was unable to respond in kind quick enough) and made his way past her.

Frozen in the spot he'd left her, she heard him swipe his trench coat off the hanger (he swore lightly as it nearly fell over), open the door, and close it. His muffled steps made their way down the hallway, until she could hear them no more.

The silence in the empty office rung in Riza's ears. Collapsing into her superior's cushy leather chair, she sat in thought, mulling over the last few minutes. What had she done now? She hadn't meant to sound like she was rejecting him or anything. Colonel ... Roy. It's not like that. She felt unusually ... regretful.

"...Arrgh."

Drawing a shaky breath, Riza's eyes wandered to the puddle of alcohol on the desk, which now dribbled slowly off the edge and onto the navy-colored carpet with a pit, pit, pit. She gazed ruefully at the soaked jacket in her hands. Sorry, but it's not like you could get any worse. Riza reached over and mopped up the remaining liquid with her coat. She then replaced the cap on the flask of vodka and moved to put it and the shot glass back in the Colonel's special hiding place; a thick, hollowed-out book whose cover bore the title of some boring General's biography, which was always placed in the bottom right-hand corner of his bookshelf.

But somehow, she couldn't quite bring herself to put it away. Why do people like this stuff so much? Curiosity getting the better of her, she sat back down, pouring herself a shot. Riza was about to take a cautionary sip, but decided, To hell with it, and downed it in one gulp, like she'd seen the Colonel do so many times before.

The taste was biting, to say the least. She coughed distressingly as darkness creeped up on her vision but then subsided as she felt a warmth settle in her gut.

She didn't drink alcohol very often because of its ways of impairing her dear senses. Riza remembered the time she'd accompanied the Colonel and Hughes to a bar. They'd got completely and utterly smashed and urged Hawkeye to make likewise, but she refused. Not just because she the designated driver, but also because she wouldn't be able to protect a certain someone with the handgun stashed in her purse if things got ugly. The Colonel had many enemies, after all, and she was sworn to protect him...

Gazing at the bottle, Riza'd remembered hearing that vodka lost much of the sting after you got used to it. Well, I don't think he'd mind if I finished off the rest, anyway. So in the good spirit of her pathological nature to master things, she took another shot. Mmm, it's not half-bad. And another. It makes my chest feel all warm. And another...

"Ahh." Riza wiped her mouth, laid back her head, and shut her eyes, listening to the steady rainfall that had begun to pound the bulletproof glass windows next to her. All was calm, all was right.

... Until the room began to feel like it was spinning, even with her eyes closed. "O-oh, no ..." Clutching her stomach, she'd forgotten how poorly she could hold her liqueur.

Vaguely realizing she was drunk (but not quite admitting it to herself), Riza collected herself as best she could in her intoxicated state and left for home, head pounding with the prospects of the awkwardness that would greet her tomorrow morning in this same building.

Or maybe it was just the vodka that was making her head swim ...

A/N:

Hey! Hope you liked this first installment of what is likely to be a two or three-chapter mini-series. It was gonna be a one-shot, but I hate when one chapter is too long, so I decided to split it up. Meaning, chapter 2 will likely be released very soon. :-) But I'm lazy, so don't get your hopes up for tomorrow. XD By the way, I got the "Dutch courage" expression from a thesaurus. XD Has anyone else heard of that expression before? .

Anyway, FF net's doc editor is unfair; it even erases "questionmark-exclemation point"(together), which is very frustrating and downright ridiculous. Can I get around this? Thanks for any help. Please also alert me to any and all spelling/grammatical errors. It was probably the Document editor's fault anyway. XD

And look, here's a (very small) preview of the next chapter! How exiting, except not!

A PREVIEW OF THE NEXT CHAPTER (Roy, on his way to Riza's place...):

Roy Mustang made his way past Central HQ, but stopped when he saw a light still shining dimly in a window located on a familiar floor. She's still there? He felt a pang of guilt. Some boss I am.

The Colonel spun around as one of the doors to the building suddenly swung open. It took him a minute to focus on the figure that emerged from behind a column and walked (stumbled?) down the steps, but he soon furrowed his brow in disbelief.

... Hawkeye?