notes: written for a prompt on tumblr which i adored so i'm posting it here :D

Roy Mustang felt incredibly restless.

The air in his office was stagnant and he rested his chin on gloved knuckles, trying and failing to concentrate on his paperwork. The Colonel had been sitting there, motionless, for the past two hours, ever since he had risen at the ungodly time of five in the morning.

Ironic, since the one who usually scolded him to wake up early wasn't even around.

He let out a sigh and leaned back into his chair, glancing at the door.
It was still, he observed somewhat frustratedly. Not any different from when he had glanced at it a minute ago…but it was too fuckingstill.

"Goddamnit, where is she?" he muttered to himself, lightly tapping his fist against the wood of the desk.

And perhaps it was precisely because he said this that the hinges of the door deemed to squeak right then, revealing the very person he'd been waiting for.

Riza Hawkeye, blonde hair in her typical bun, stood at attention in front of the metal threshold of his office. She had on her black shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and cargo pants—combat garb, if you would. But what else would one wear on a mission?

Maybe it was the fact that Roy was not a man who missed much, more observant than the average individual, with quick dark eyes catching a lot.

Or maybe it was the fact that Hawkeye had positioned herself a little awkwardly, arms dangling behind her back, like she was attempting to hide something, and legs crossed slightly.

His eyes narrowed and, before Hawkeye could even call out the word, "sir," Mustang had gotten up and made his way across the room.

She didn't even flinch when he practically cornered her to the wall. "Sir!" she said, eyes directed right in front of her. "The mission was successful, sir!"

Ignoring that declaration, Roy gripped her shoulder softly and removed her arm from behind her back.

The skin was marred with injuries of all kind; cuts and bruises lined the surface, blood leaking out from them.

Nothing serious, he knew, but his brows still furrowed while he looked.

"What happened?" Roy questioned gruffly.

Her arm twisted and disappeared from his view, replaced with a glimpse of the gun attached to the holster at her hip. "Complications arose, Colonel, sir," she explained calmly, "but it was nothing I couldn't handle."

Mustang's fists clenched momentarily and he continued to watch her. "Details about these…complications, Lieutenant."

"It will be included in my report, as appropriate, Colonel."

Though he leveled a stare on her, Riza had always been more capable of adopting a poker face. And when it seemed like they were headed nowhere with this, he sighed and pointed a finger to the interior of the office, gesturing for her to come in.

She did, though hesitation flickered in her eyes.

"I'll bandage up your wounds," he said. "Then you can go and rest."

Riza complied, firmer now, and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of her desk, as he bent to the floor and unwrapped the bindings he had in his drawer.

He twined once and tied. "You realize you were gone for four days. Correct?"

Twined and tied. "Yes, sir, I do. But it was necessary."

Twined, tied. "As were these injuries, Lieutenant?"

Twined. "Affirmative."

Tied. "I'll need to read that report of yours soon."

There was only one more area on Riza's leg—also wounded—that he had to cover; near her ankle.

"I took care of the problem, sir."

It may not have been a good idea, but Roy couldn't help himself, at that point, from dropping his lips onto her ankle and kissing it. His eyes were open and he could see her shiver at the sensation, barely perceptible.

He lifted his mouth up an inch from it and whispered, "I was worried, Lieutenant."

"I am aware, sir." But she wasn't meeting his gaze now.

"If I've aged over the days you were gone, it's because of that."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He smiled and couldn't resist from dropping another kiss down on her skin, branding it with his mark and wrapping it up. "Good. Do that . Especially when you're preventing yourself from receiving any more of these."

notes2: thoughts?