Pure Fluff

This was inspired by my hubz being sick. and he was even so nice as to edit it for me. 3 this one is for him.


Riza stared out the window from her desk. It was a gloomy day in East City with several dark clouds passing overhead and a forecast for rain. It was early and the office was all to herself; efficiency being her only companion.

She looked back to the stack of papers, neatly lining them up. She began to reach for the stapler as the telephone for the office began to ring on the Colonel's desk. It was still early enough that not many personnel would be in the building, much less making calls.

The Lieutenant quickly set the pile of papers down and felt the awful sensation of the edge of a paper slicing the outermost layer of her finger. Damn. She observed it begin to trickle blood. Putting the finger to her mouth, she sat at her commanding officer's desk and answered the call.

"Colonel Mustang's office." She looked downwards and began to search for bandage dressing in the drawers.

"Lieutenant…diligent as always…I knew you'd be there."

She filtered through junk distractedly, "Colonel?"

"Lieutenant, I won't be coming in today," he coughed. "I'm sick."

Riza quirked an eyebrow. "That's awful." She said in her most unsympathetic tone. "What's wrong?"

"I think I have a cold. You can hear it in my voice, can't you?" She heard something all right. "My chest feels like it's caving in. I may die."

His voice mimicked the sounds of someone intentionally blocking their nasal airways with their fingers. She deadpanned into the telephone, "I'm sure you're not dying, sir. Although, I find it convenient for you to fall deathly ill at the beginning of the week."

"It's all coincidence. Please, do something for me."

"What is it?"

"Bring me breakfast."

Riza paused, feeling a vein begin to suspiciously flare on her forehead. "I am not bringing you breakfast."

"There's a light… at the end of a tunnel." He pleaded. "Should I go to it, Riza?"

"You must be joking."

"No… I'm faaading." The Colonel acted out, feigning coughs in between each word.

The Lieutenant let out an exasperated sigh. His entire dramatic charade didn't do well to convince her, but she yielded, grabbing a notepad and ink. "All right, what do you want?"

The door into the office opened as Riza replaced the telephone into the holder, watching Jean Havoc stroll in looking like he could use an extra hour or three of sleep. "Good morning, Second Lieutenant." She greeted brightly, grabbing her military coat on top of her chair. "I'm heading out so I'm leaving it to you for now."

"All right," he yawned. "Where are you going?"

"The Colonel is sick and he's made a formal request for a baby-sitter."

Jean chuckled, drowsy from the early hour. "Get him a pacifier on your way over there." He glanced down at her, pointing. "You should probably get a bandage for that finger."

"Oh," Hawkeye looked at it. Smeared blood painted her finger. "Right. Thanks."

The rain began to pour when she climbed the steps to his apartment, take-out food in tow. Riza shook her head. Her mind was distracted – the image of her umbrella leaning against her desk became so vivid. She gave the Colonel's door handle a try with success.

The sight of the Colonel was hilariously pitiful: sitting up in his bed with blankets, pajamas and tousled dark hair. His nose was red and his eyes looked swollen. He managed a smile with a look of congested stupor. "Good morning," he rasped.

Riza set the food on the side of his bed and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. "Well, well. A slight fever."

He narrowed his already puny eyes, "You thought I was faking it, didn't you?"

She held back, handing him the broth he so urgently demanded. "That'd be dangerously close to insubordination."

"I can think of more severe ways to commit insubordination." He smirked, wiggling his right eyebrow.

How he thought of that in his state of mind was beyond her. Riza offered feigned concern, "I wish I could understand you, sir. But your congestion makes it so difficult." The Colonel's face fell, mumbling about how cold she was.

Hawkeye brought over a bowl with cool water and a folded cloth submerged in it, placing anti-inflammatory medicine right next to a glass of water. "Colonel, you have medicine and a cloth for your fever once you lie back down. Additionally, make sure to drink plenty of fluids. It's essential for your recovery."

The rainfall wasn't letting up, she noticed. Normally, a little water wouldn't bother her, but she also didn't want to get pummeled by rain if she didn't have to. She peered outside, it looked more like a torrential downpour.

"Do you have an umbrella?" Riza asked him.

"It's broken." He said nonchalantly in between spoonfuls of soup.

She walked over to the umbrella holder she spotted and picked it up. "This one?"

He nodded silently.

She opened it, searching for damage. "Where?"

The familiar snap and spark of alchemical electricity appeared before her and she instinctually jumped back before her eyebrows were singed off. The umbrella she was holding a moment before burned intensely in front of her as it fell. The scorched skeleton of the umbrella laid on the floor. Riza turned angrily towards to him, "Colonel!"

"I tried to tell you," he said nasally, the pyrotex glove seemed to have magically appeared on the hand holding the cup soup. "It's flammable. No good."

She stomped over to him, pointing an incensed finger at him. "That wasn't remotely funny," she scolded. "You could incinerate your entire apartment being so stubbornly careless."

His dark, puffy eyes didn't even look at her, "What happened to your finger?"

Riza huffed, plopping on the side of his bed and eyeing her bandage. "It's a paper cut."

"And you call me careless." He baited, placing his empty bowl to the side. "Let me see."

The Lieutenant displayed her bandaged finger, as if staring was going to heal the wound. The Colonel grabbed her hand with exaggerated concern and began to study the digit. She turned her attention to the storm outside - even if she did have an umbrella, visibility would be incredibly questionable by foot or car.

"I know what can make it better." Riza turned to him as he kissed her finger. "There. All better."

Riza felt the unsolicited blush creep across to her face. "Your fever is making you absolutely delirious." She pulled back her hand. "Why?"

"Not delirious," he said, looking satisfied. "Just grateful for the food."

"An umbrella would have been sufficient," Riza shot back at him.

"I used to have one, but someone burnt it to a crisp." He flashed her a grin and she groaned, bringing a palm to her face. "I don't know why you're so wound up. It's not like you're going anywhere."

"I'm being held hostage by my nasally superior officer." Riza noted incredulously.

"That's not very nice, Riza. I prefer congested."

Her annoyance was reaching its peak, though unnecessarily. She's already ruled out walking or driving back to the Command Center. Riza smiled at him.

He was right, she wasn't going anywhere.


A/N - I have a feeling I don't know what type of commitment I've gotten myself into.