Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or get any money from writing this.

A/N: So…This is something I wrote when I was sick and bored. I hope you like it. It is Roy-centered. I hope the idea isn't used, if it is, sorry. It is hard to think when you have fever.

His favorite drug

He's always been curious. He always wanted to know what was behind a closed door, what the things were made of, what was happening away from his eyes. That was probably one of the reasons he became an alchemist. After all, alchemists were looking for knowledge of this world.

That was also the reason why it had started. His obsession. He was so damn curious…he felt like chuckling, his aunty had always warned him that he would get his nose into things too big for him to handle, if he continued to be so curious. And look where he was now.

Yes, it was part of the reason, but not the whole story.

See, he always wanted something he couldn't have. And as many, he too knew that the forbidden fruit was always the tastiest. Forbidden was always the most intoxicating.

And that combination had always been the reason. 'Cause Her name is the synonym for forbidden. He has absolutely no rights to her. He is always separated from her. There is that thick, thick blue in between.

But it doesn't matter to him. Nothing can get him forget the addiction of his. God knows he has tried. But it has been so for so many years, that he has turned the addiction a part of his personality. No one can see the Flame without the smoke. When he just thinks he's gotten out of it, then all that he needs is a simple reminder of her, like hearing her voice and he's hooked again.

The things that mostly mesmerize him in her, they are the most simple things of all. First there is her scent. She smells like gunpowder and some sweet flowery scent, that you almost can't smell, but what is there still. He can smell it when she stands behind her. It is always those two torturing steps that keep them away from each other. Sometimes it feels that she is so close that he dies, sometimes he would give anything to get her closer, since she is so far.

Then there are her eyes. He has always loved her eyes. Their color is so special, dark amber and they are surprisingly soft and big, standing out from the creamy skin of her face. Those eyes have a calming effect on him and over the years he has realized that staring into her eyes helps his nerves more than something like alcohol ever will. Her eyes have also seen what his have, more misery than such young person should have seen, but even if her eyes are killer's eyes, he won't look them as those, he sees eyes of the savior.

There is also her smile. She has the most wonderful smile he has ever seen. She doesn't smile often, but when she does, then her usual stoic features turn softer and there is light twinkling in the corner of her eyes. Her smile is a drug for him, it sends him up.

So yes, even the smallest details in her make him intoxicated. And that is unacceptable. That's why he has tried many substitutes. Women, alcohol…but what can he do but admit that not even the finest whiskey tastes as good as a bittersweet kiss from her and those girls, no matter that they are often blondes with brown eyes, they never make him feel the same. Their hands are always too soft, their voices too girly and they are too fragile. They can never understand his pain or his dreams.

He can't stand staying away and it makes him feel guilty, but he also knows that this is a slow game and he is not the only player. She too acts her part and he knows that she is better at it, since she doesn't think she can cure herself out of it.

That is why he does it. He dangers them both. He repeats the same play, lets their weaknesses over come them. It is another late night in the office. He has almost finished his paperwork and she has been ready with her own a long time ago. She never leaves before him, she always waits. Everyone else thinks she is his babysitter. He doesn't care.

He signs the last documents and stands up quietly.

"I think it is a time to call it a night, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

She nods her blonde head and moves to his desk to get finished papers. He follows her every movement. He gets her jacket for her from rack and waits for her to come to the door. He helps the jacket on her and their game starts. He leans little closer, so that he can inhale her scent and he is sure she can smell his cologne too.

"Lieutenant…"

He whispers, his voice low and smooth. She already has her jacket on, but she is still standing close and now she leans backwards, just little and Roy can feel that she almost touches him now, the warmth radiating from her, making him crazy.

"Yes, sir?"

"Can I walk you home?"

She is silent for awhile, they both know why. Tiny part inside him is screaming to her: Refuse! But the game is too hard to resist.

"Yes, yes you can, Colonel."

They walk through the streets; it is quiet; after all it is a middle of the night. He walks close to her, there are no two steps between them, darkness forgives that to them, it is not like the hard daylight that would betray them to everyone. Her hand brushes his with every step she takes, sending shivers through him.

They finally get to her house and she opens her door. He should leave now. Her eyes stare at him, maybe just five seconds, but it feels like minutes. He is trapped. She looks thoughtful when she opens her mouth.

"Would you like to come in? It is cold; I could fix us some tea before you leave."

Her eyes are burning, but her voice shows nothing else than friendliness to her superior. He knows she wishes he says no, but he also knows that even more she wishes he says yes. And how could he refuse?

"That would be nice."

And she smiles, there's something bittersweet in her smile. She takes his hand and pulls him inside her house. Then, when he tries to get his shoes of and bends down, she captures his lips.

That night they don't have tea. He doesn't leave before five am. Before he leaves he promises to her: We can end this. They both know it's a lie, but it is such a sweet lie that maybe it could be true? It is, until next time. They are too deep in this game of sinful temptations, need, self-deception and worst of all, love. Neither one wanted this to be like this, the game is too cruel, but it is their entire fault and it's too late to stop now.

So he leaves still feeling her golden hair around his fingers, her scent all over him, those hands running all over. It will be enough for awhile, and then he will have to spend time with his favorite drug again.

A/N: Yes…that was…well I hope you enjoyed it. I am not quite happy with the end, but…it's ok, i guess. Please review, but no flames, let's save those for Mustang.