One Night…

A/N: Royai for Royai day, guys!

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA and if I still have to tell you this, you must be daft. Yes, I just said daft.

One Night…

Roy Mustang was not having a good day. Yes, he might be Führer of Amestris, but apparently all that meant was a heap of paperwork every day. He sighed. He had more paperwork now than he had ever had before – and seeing how much he had had as a lieutenant general, hell, even as a colonel, he wasn't entirely sure how that was even physically possible.

But apparently it was. So now he was stuck working on paperwork – staying late, he might add – for what had to be the fourth or fifth night in a row. And needless to say, it had not made the man anywhere near to happy.

He had been downright cranky all day, snapping at just about everyone, and his eyelids were shutting despite the bright lamp on his desk. (Once he'd even sworn to Hawkeye that the damn thing was going to burn his retinas off. She hadn't found it funny in the least, and he later realized how tasteless the joke was. He kept his mouth shut after that.)

At the point he was at, it wouldn't take much more to send him into downright hibernation, and the monotonous sound of Hawkeye's pen scratching against the papers she was working on (come to think of it, hadn't she been staying up with him helping him with his paperwork all week?) coupled with the bland sea of black on white he was staring at (bland sea of black and white? He was clearly feeling worse than he had thought) was about enough to do just that.

So when the dark curtains, otherwise known as his eyelids, descended over his line of sight, he succumbed to the blissful feeling of sleep that had been avoiding him all week. Having registered on some level the closing of his eyes, Roy was seriously surprised to find that he was in the office, the clock on the wall reading 11:27. He'd been asleep for fifteen minutes? Damn, was he lucky Hawkeye hadn't killed him – well, shit.

Th-that was Hawkeye, right? He double-checked. Blonde hair, amber eyes, military jacket. That was Hawkeye, all right.

…So why exactly was she sitting on top of her desk in a mini-skirt? She had sworn to him (several times, actually) that she would never wear one, calling them a word his mother would wash his mouth out for saying. Roy thought he had to be going insane. Why else would he be hallucinating like this?

"Sir," Riza said, a pout on her face. "Why are you ignoring me? I dressed up for you too."

That was the final straw. He was going insane. Roy hit his head against his desk. That was funny. Wasn't hitting your head against a desk supposed to hurt? Roy ignored the feeling of suspicion at the back of his head saying something was wrong and hit his head against the desk in front of him again. And again. And why was the sound of his head hitting his desk sounding like Hawkeye saying his name?

"Roy. Roy. Come on, Roy, wake up. This isn't funny. If you don't get up, you'll be sleeping on the couch all month. Come on, Roy."

That got him to snap out of it. He looked up. The clock on the wall still said 11:27, but Hawkeye wasn't at her desk, she was standing over him. And still dressed in pants, Roy added mentally.

She looked at him, a concerned look on her face. "You were hitting your head against the desk. Are you all right?"

Roy looked up at her, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. We should probably get finished, though…" he looked sadly at the paperwork, as if it might suddenly take pity on him and disappear. (It didn't.)

Hawkeye bit her lip before responding. "Actually, most of this stuff isn't due until the end of the week." She sighed. "And you've been working really hard lately, so I guess we could wait until tomorrow to finish it." She glanced at him, a mischievous smile lighting her eyes. "Unless, of course, you want to stay until who-knows-when and finish up here."

Roy was on his feet before he could even fully register what she had said. "Let's go."

He saw her small smile and took her hand. She followed him out of the building. He wasn't quite sure how his life had turned out this way, how he was running the country with his beautiful fiancée (he shot Riza a smile) at his side. And he wasn't really sure what that dream had meant. (Maybe Riza was planning on dressing up for him in a mini-skirt soon? …He hadn't though so.) But it didn't really matter. For now, he was content.

A/N: Umm… Not sure how to defend myself. Especially as I kinda want to hit myself. That ending was stupid and I'm a little sleep-deprived and can't exactly bring myself to like it. *sigh* Oh well. Hopefully you like this more than I do, and even if you didn't, reviews are appreciated. And loved and huggled and kept FOREVER. (What? Me, insane? Why would you think that?)