I finished reading the FMA manga two hours ago. I was incapable of doing more than sitting on my couch and hugging my knees for about 21 minutes afterwards, due to the empty feeling that came with finally finishing it. If you have only watched the anime(s), you need to go read the series. NOW. It is powerful.
I'd started this before I met Sloth, and got stuck. I finished it in roughly an hour (record time for me) in my post-series haze. I own nothing but my poor excuse for a plot, and apologize for its shortness and any unintentional OoCness you may find.
Please enjoy my first royai fic.
Roy growled, closing the distance between him and the woman before him. "Come now, just once?"
Riza glared at him, her hands at his chest. "We're on duty, sir."
"Yes, but no one else is here this late," Roy argued, gesturing around the vacant, dim office. "Once can't hurt after the first time, right?" He smiled roguishly, raising one eyebrow suggestively as he continued, "Our first was a long time ago, Riza… so why not?"
"I have told you why repeatedly, sir," Riza hissed, slapping his arms away and moving over to the door, "we are at work, and neither of us would ever hear the end of it if we were found out, aside from our shattering several rules to pieces."
"We're alone, Riza," Roy grinned, "so won't you call me Roy?"
"The matter stands that we're still in your office, Roy," Riza reminded him, relenting slightly.
"Then shall we change that?" the colonel smirked, resting his hand on the doorknob.
"Need I remind you that you still have work to do?" the lieutenant inquired, leading him gently back to his desk.
"No, you needn't; I remembered."
"Then I suggest that you get to work."
"But Riza –"
She cut off his protest by placing a finger on his lips. "The sooner you finish your paperwork, the sooner we can go home. Understood?"
Roy's eyes widened; he nodded enthusiastically and dove into his exceptionally dull forms with indecent excitement. "Understood."
Riza smiled slightly, watching her superior for a moment. She then withdrew a small book from her jacket – for she had long since finished her work – and began to read, deciphering the handwritten code as she went.
Entry 1
I have managed to make it through the war, alive and mostly whole – a slight burn on my back, but nothing worse physically. I've been stationed under a rather familiar face – the one of the man who spent hours studying my back. It's strange, not having the constant worry of the enemy hanging over our heads – now they lurk in disguise. It makes me wonder about the future, and what is in store for me – for us. A lucky transfer that was not truly luck… he trusts me with his back, as I trusted him with mine. Perhaps our country has a hope for the future.
Riza glanced up from her old journal to make sure that the colonel was still working. To her utter surprise, he was steadily filling out forms. She smiled, mildly amused by this, and flipped to another entry. It was amazing, she mused, the extents to which they'd gone over the years to avoid detection. For example…
Entry 498
We were almost discovered again today; I really do wish that Roy would take his spare key away from Hughes. Thanks to our quick action, however, nothing occurred.
We had, as per usual, retired to his apartment after our Friday evening shift. That evening, we had prepared spaghetti together – a wise choice, we thought, after Roy's previous, disastrous solo attempt at peanut butter and jam sandwiches, the result of which broke my steak knife. Roy had chosen to make the setting somewhat more romantic than usual, with candles and such things. I appreciated the effort, even if it was relatively pointless – after all, a hodgepodge of candles does not affect the taste of noodles in the slightest. All had been going well. Key word: had.
Chaos arrived in the form of Lt. Colonel Maes Hughes.
We were halfway through dinner, talking and subtly flirting – or, in Roy's case, not-so-subtly – when we heard the telltale key scraping in the lock. Our movements were practiced and precise: I flicked my knife, clicking the light switch to the 'on' position, while Roy blew out and hid the candles. Papers and writing utensils were drawn from bags on the floor and placed on the table, and not a moment too soon; Hughes burst into Roy's apartment, twirling in circles and singing.
"Roy! I got a new picture developed of Gracia and me! Want to – oh, hello, Second Lt. Hawkeye! Do you want to see the pictures, too?"
Skipping over the rest of the utterly predictable conversation – including a few scarcely veiled innuendoes – the Lt. Colonel eventually took his leave, saying that he would leave us to our 'work.' Before he left, however, he drew Roy to one side and muttered a bit, allowing words such a 'letter' and 'wife' to reach my ears. Roy, as usual, brushed him aside, denying knowledge of any such document. With a heavy wink and a few more photos of Gracia, the Lt. Colonel took his leave.
Roy then turned to me. "Since he knows, why are we bothering to hide it from him?"
"For the dual purpose of avoiding blackmail and allowing him to say that he never saw any signs of our intimate relations, if he's ever questioned," I replied, slipping the papers back into the bags.
"Handy," he commented, dimming the lights and sending a couple of sparks to light the now-retrieved candles.
"Stop talking about yourself." I refilled our wine glasses.
"I wasn't." He raised his. "To us."
"To us," I concurred.
We later celebrated yet another close escape in our usual way.
"Are you ready, Riza?"
"Are you done, sir?"
"No."
"Then please get back to work, sir."
Entry 963
Today held little of note; I went to work, Roy attempted to shirk his paperwork, chaos broke loose, calm was regained, and I walked home. Little of note; little, but not nothing.
We renewed our promise today. It's not complicated to do, nor is it really noticeable. It is a simple bit of eye contact, matched with a small hand signal, done on the eleventh day of the sixth month – the anniversary of the day we met, before Roy even knew about my back. I suppose that I should record that day here, if only for posterity.
We were both rather young; Roy had just begun to study alchemy under my father. Roy had, in his confusion and rush, burst most unceremoniously into my room during his search for the restroom. He was utterly bewildered and most embarrassed – and, after being bombarded by my collection of marbles, rather sore. He promptly fled from my room, hands over his head. Later, he knocked on the doorframe of my now-open door before entering, his hands shielding his face, to apologize. I threw a pen at his head and missed, to my eternal shame – he has never allowed me to forget that, and will probably be whispering about it when I am on my deathbed. Despite this somewhat rocky start, or perhaps because of it, we grew to be close friends. The people in the town began to say, not long after, that they hardly remembered a time when I was not walking with him; even I scarcely remember a time when he was not in my life. One summer, we decided that that arrangement should continue.
And so, every year on the eleventh day of the sixth month, we take a few moments alone to renew our promise. We stand on either side of a flat platform – usually a table – and place our left hands in front of us. We each then reach over with our right hand and tap the other's left fourth finger once. Our eyes meet and hold for a few moments, and then we nod and go back about our business, our promise renewed.
We promise because we know that one day, we will have to part; we know that someone will force us to separate, will restrict our movements to the point where we cannot even eat lunch together without being forced to use a strict code. And so we promised, not with a ring, not with anything tangible, but with a slight movement, and the words etch themselves somewhere that no one can see. A promise that, even if we are forced apart, we will stay alive and whole until we are reunited once more. I only hope that we can keep it.
A long-suffering sigh rudely interrupted Riza's happy memories. "Are you ready now, Riza?"
"Are you done yet, sir?" she inquired, shutting her old journal and tucking it out of sight.
"Yes!" he exclaimed proudly, holding up his stack of papers to prove it.
"Then," she smiled, amused, "yes, I am ready."
Roy tossed his papers onto his desk most unceremoniously and stood, offering her an arm. "Shall we?"
"We shall," she replied, walking out of the door and choosing to completely ignore his offered appendage all the way to her apartment.
"Here we are," Roy grinned, leaning against the doorframe of her apartment.
Riza nodded. "Goodnight."
He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Aren't you going to invite me inside?"
Unlocking the door, she smiled and inquired, "Whoever said that you were staying over tonight, Colonel?"
While Roy was busy executing an excellent example of a jaw-drop, Black Hayate had appeared on the threshold. The canine saluted the two humans and stood aside to grant them entrance. Riza saluted in return before giving him a quick pat on the head and entering her apartment. When she made to close the door, however, Black Hayate nosed his way outside and took a corner of Roy's trouser leg firmly in his teeth. Riza sighed, and permitted her superior to enter.
"Be honored," she instructed him. "Black Hayate wouldn't let Rebecca in the other night until I ordered him to step out of the doorway."
Roy, having regained control of his mental facilities, replied, "I am." He too saluted Black Hayate, and then surreptitiously slipped the dog a treat. "Come, Riza, let's to bed."
She smiled, this time taking his offered arm. "Of course, Roy, but don't you want dinner first?"
Roy shook his head, smiling roguishly. "I'm going to have my dessert first tonight."
"I warn you, dessert only comes in one flavor," she cautioned, smirking.
"I beg to differ," he replied. "I've tasted you many times, and have never met the same one twice."
"You may differ only when you prove it."
"Challenge accepted."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Riza blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes before rolling onto her side to smile sleepily at her beloved, as she reveled in her dreams of memories and the Ishbalan winds battered the outside of their tent.
*END*
Well, I hope that you enjoyed my first royai oneshot! Please let me know how I did with keeping them in character. :)
Happy New Year!