Author's Note: Another Totally Promiscuous FMA Pairing Machine piece. This time, it spit out Roy/Marta, PG or PG-13, containing food, glove, and bed. Sorry if it's kind of... y'know. Random.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
Roy practically tore apart his desk as he searched for his report. He had spent the whole evening perfecting it. At least, most of the evening. Actually, he had spent the majority of his time playing a game instead. It was called Put Off Your Paperwork Until the Last Minute.
He quite enjoyed that game. The aftermath, however, was never fun.
"It has to be somewhere. I have to present this to a higher-up! What will happen if I can't find it? How will I ever become Führer?"
His own voice was causing his head to ache. He groaned exhaustedly, running fingers through his slick, black hair.
"I, Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, cannot… accept this…"
He trailed off when he heard footsteps. Someone was heading down the hallway toward his office, and he realized that the surface of his desk looked like a battlefield after a vicious war. Panic-stricken, he grabbed crumpled papers and files and struggled to situate them in a style that resembled order.
When he heard a firm knock on his door, he cleared his throat and called, "Come in."
A slender woman with very short, honey-colored hair stepped inside. She placed her hands on her hips and grinned wickedly.
"E-excuse me," Roy said sternly. "Who, exactly, are you?"
"My name is Marta," the woman purred. Her voice was unlike any other Roy had heard, and she seemed to carry with her a strangely dangerous air.
"Well, Ms. Marta, I'd like to know what brings you here." He kept a gloved hand out of her view and held two fingertips together, prepared to snap if she launched any sort of attack.
"Oh, I just came to meet you," she told him. "I've heard rumors that Central is the home of a good-looking man named Mustang. I assume that you are that very man."
"And why make such an assumption?"
Marta's smile grew. She crossed the small room to Roy and leaned over his desk.
"You should take those gloves off, darling. You won't need to set anyone on fire tonight." After a short pause, she added with a velvety touch to her tone, "Not literally, anyway."
Roy blinked, flustered. She knew more about him than he had guessed.
"If you'll excuse me," he snapped curtly, "I have business to which I must attend. If you have nothing else to say, I must ask you to leave."
"I have work to finish, too," Marta murmured. She suddenly darted behind his chair and lowered her chin onto his shoulder. "However, it doesn't matter to me if I'm kicked out of the military for incompetence. I'm making time for you."
Marta certainly did not look like she belonged to the military; she wore casual clothing and had not saluted after she entered. Roy was sure that he had never seen her before. He knew that he would have remembered such a woman.
"Ma'am," he choked as her tongue flicked out and made contact with his ear. "Th-this is hardly the time for—"
"Don't be such a tight-ass," Marta whined. "It's not as though I've asked you to get into bed with me…"
Warmth spread through Roy's cheeks. Frozen, he stared straight ahead. He always handled those sorts of situations well. If he did not wind up on a date with a woman who advanced on him, it was only because he opted to kindly explain that he was not interested. Either way, he tended to wind up on top. No one had ever rendered him speechless the way Marta did.
Five minutes later, their mouths were one.
Roy moaned against Marta's lips. His mind insisted that it was ridiculous to find himself attracted to a stranger, a person by whom he was interrupted, insulted, violated, and seduced, and still completely unfamiliar with.
"Stop," he finally gasped, seizing Marta's shoulders and pushing her off of his body. "I-I have to leave. I'm going out… for something to eat."
"I doubt you've really been thinking of food this whole time," Marta responded to the man's lie. She ran her finger along the purplish lines on her face. Roy wondered what they were; he distractedly assumed that it was a tattoo.
"No. I mean, yes. I… I'm going."
Roy ignored the green-eyed gaze that followed him across the room. Marta did not move as the alchemist swiftly forced himself through the hallway.
"Such a tense person," she eventually muttered. "Still… He's piqued my interest."
Roy was outside of the building by the time Marta left his office. He inhaled the cool, fresh air and made his way through the darkness to a nearby diner. Perhaps he would find something to please his stomach.
It did not take him long to admit how uncharacteristic it was for him to set aside his almost-overdue report and focus on other things instead. He decided that he would definitely find it in the morning and apologize for the delay.
Roy realized that Run-in with a Bizarre Woman was even more entertaining than his paperwork game. He silently confessed to himself that he hoped he could soon play it again with Marta.