It had started with breakfast.
In the morning, Roy Mustang was far from the God of War that he was known as.
Normally, he would wake up, albeit uneasily, get dressed, brush his teeth, comb his hair (even if he really wanted to), and get some food – or, in his definition, shoveling anything he could down his throat so he had a mind to process anything.
These days, he was even less so.
His attention had been diverted…his mind was…preoccupied by a certain alchemist. So much so that he was willing to think of anything other than the blonde-haired prodigy in order to think straight.
He excused himself many times, the awkwardness of his denial creeping up with excuses such as:
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep.
Perhaps it was the fact that there was no fresh coffee the morning before.
Perhaps it was the fact that the previous day Hughes had been incessantly talking about his little Elysia – well, more than usual. His yips of delight were bound to mess with his inner ear sooner or later.
"Oh my darling little Elysia! She is just so so so cute, don't you think Mustang? I could just pinch her cheeks and cuddle her all day!"
He inwardly groaned at the memory.
Whatever the reason, one morning, at his desk, case files and eyes thinned, still trying to get used to the light of day, Mustang started to think about fruit.
Not just casually either.
He started to seriously think about it.
Oranges in particular.
How… he hadn't seen it in a long time.
How… the texture of the rind was almost akin to touching the goosebumps on someone else's skin…someone in particular…
How…peeling the layer, which left the air stagnant with the zest of juicy flesh, left his fingers sticky and sweet.
How…the burst of the strong scent almost left his mouth watering, stinging his eyes with want.
How…it reminded him how famished he was…
How…much he wanted to drink the tantalizing juice, slurp it up, and leave no trace, all of his desires quenched within this one ritual…
How…he could feel his whole body spasm with need, his palms starting to sweat, his knees quaking, and his mouth watering with wanton thirst….
How he…missed…
"Colonel?"
Roy's breath hitched. The namesake in question stood erect. His eyes were wide, a tint of red on his face as he made sure to wipe away the drool leaving his lips.
Havoc peeked in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face. "Everything okay, Mustang? You got a call coming from the guys at Central."
The Colonel swallowed audibly, putting his hands behind his back, and appeared to be back to normal. "I'm fine, Havoc. I just uh…" He looked at his hands – the juice from the orange that he was trying to eat was getting sticky. "…I just need a second to clean up. I spilled some…juice."
Havoc raised an eyebrow at this, the cigarette in his mouth tilting somewhat. "Juice?"
"…Yes. Juice."
"All right – if you say so."
Havoc closed the door behind him, and proceeded to walk towards the control room.
He shook his head, "I knew the Colonel was anal about his morning routine, but jeez…"