Hey. I'm new. And, I'm in lots of therapy
So, we're gonna try something called speed writing.
Instead of spending a year perfecting fanfiction that is pretty much utterly meaningless, I'm gonna put things down on paper. Kinda proofread. And TAKE OUT THAT FREAKING STRESS (woo).

Consequently, the quality may go down. Typos may go up. But, whatever. This isn't my favorite Royai scenario in my head. But, they're too perfect to not write anything. Nearly all of the idea is fleshed out and in writing. But, let's dip our toes in the water shall we?

Tell me what you think.

CHAPTER ONE

"You leave for old Ishval soon I gather?"

Fuehrer Grumman already knew that.
He's the one who signed the papers.

After all, a full-blown restoration required the Leader of the State's deep and diligent involvement. But, so was the nature of small talk: stating obvious facts already known by both parties and stringing them along for as long as possible.

Riza Hawkeye knew that her relationship with her newly discovered grandfather was to be like this: stiff, uncomfortable. And for a long long while. But, she grinned – as much as Riza Hawkeye might be expected to – and decided to bear it. She muscled through and managed to respond from the small bathroom suite right off his office.

"Yes, Sir."

At least she could relish the fact he was sticking to work talk.
She could do that. She knew how to do that.

Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye smoothed her elegant black dress and stared into the bathroom mirror. It was an incredible gown. She felt she didn't match the piece. She belonged in her uniform.

But, the Fuhrer sent out for the dress himself.
And, he accidently left the price tag on.
And, with the measure of general interest he had shown in her wellbeing,there was no option. She had to wear the gown. For the whole night.

And, she had to pretend to like it.

"I leave with General Mustang's brigade at the end of the week."
"Quite convenient, then, that my birthday's today, isn't it, my dear?"

She was nearly positive he'd pushed their departure back for exactly that reason. They could have left two days ago, Saturday. But, as much as Riza was still uncomfortable around her grandfather, she did like him. So, she smiled when she stepped from the bathroom.

"Yes, Sir. A happy coincidence."

So not a coincidence.

"Oh my dear Riza," the Fuhrer's mouth took the opportunity to pick up another cupcake from his personally ordered silver tray and cram it into his mouth.

"You look just like your father."

Uh.

"I'm not certain that's a compliment, Sir."

"Oh," Grumman waved the technicality away, "Of course, far more lovely. And,far less like a man. " He sucked the icing off his fingers, "More like my beautiful daughter, now that I ponder it."

Hawkeye stifled a sweet chuckle, "Thank you, Sir."

The Fuhrer frowned at his granddaughter's persistent formality.
"Grandpa?"

They'd gone through this.
Riza gave him a look he had learned very quickly after they met.
The one that said she wasn't having it. The one she said she was determined to win. And, after that look, she usually did.

But, they had that in common, she and her grandfather.
Neither of them were used to losing despite their greatly differing personalities.
And, that was the only reason he pressed on.

"Grandpa Grumman?"
"Fuhrer Grumman." Hawkeye crossed her arms.

"Grumman?" He was proud of his new idea. But, his granddaughter always won the fight when she resorted to the semi-formal,

"Sir."

Her grandfather shrugged in surrender, but sill smiled wide. Then shoved another cupcake in his mouth upping his count to 5 so far, regardless of the fact that the dinner and dance being held in his honor started in, like, 20 minutes.

"Baby steps."

Gruman turned to his desk, unlocked the top drawer and held up a finger,
"One more thing."

"Surely, Sir. You've given me enough," Riza began in disbelief.
His ongoing generosity for the past month wasn't exactly something she knew how to handle. With the reclaiming of the state, the conquering of the Promised Day, after the long recovery and now the beginning of the restoration, quite quickly was Riza pushed out of her comfort zone, for quite quickly did the backdrops in front of which she stood ever change. Backdrops indeed they were, as the reality in which she did blend involved combat, firearms, bombs, terrorists, you name it.

But, with her introduction to her "new" grandfather, and the "normalization" of life in the aftermath, screens began to be lowered behind them all. Ones that felt strange after such a long period of internal and external battle. And, she was expected to adjust.

Life had to go on. It always had to go on.
She just didn't quite understand why everything
had to be so different, so unnerving.

Her grandfather, she supposed, was making up for years of gifts and spoils lost. So, here she was, under special invitation to join him daily for lunch, then dinner, then to his office on his birthday where she received a princess-like treatment, as if she was one to deserve it. She didn't belong there.

"First the outings, the gifts, the dress. Your outstanding generosity to set me up with-," Hawkeye swallowed her severe sarcasm, "with a date for your party. Certainly, you've given me enough. I cannot possibly-"

"Nonsense. This pulls it all together," He said holding up a simple, beautiful diamond pendant.

At that moment she was truly shut up for a moment. It was gorgeous. A lavish piece of jewelry to match the lavish backdrop forced behind her.

Maybe it would help her blend. It was dazzling after all.

"Go on," he smiled, noticing her wonder. He motioned toward the bathroom, and she stepped onto the tile and in front of the mirror, searching from the clasp. Grumman went for another cupcake,

"Your date will be here any sec-"

There was a knock.

"There you are!"

"Fuhrer Grumman, pleasure to see you, Happy Birthday, Sir."

Brigadier General Roy Mustang was as formal and respectful as he ever was as he grinned at his mentor and Fuhrer. Yet, his salute was short lived as Grumman met him will a firm pat on the back.

Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye, his finest of subordinates, her salute was strong. She wasn't thinking much. The action was a habit once he walked into any room. She had finished the clasp to her necklace just in time and swiftly held her hand to her head.

"Sir."

She wasn't looking at him straight. So, she didn't see his eyes when she came out of the bathroom. They widened, like, ten times their normal size.

He was glad, because of the lack of eye contact,
she couldn't quite notice him totally checking her out.
Wait, she did notice.

There was the glare.
She lowered her hand and he responded with some kind of smirk and a spin of the flowers in his hand.

"You look divine, Lieutenant Colonel."

Riza didn't have too much time to respond to him rather sketchy and insincere compliment before her grandfather dropped the bomb on the unsuspecting couple.

"Riza, dear, this is your date for the evening."

The two turned to stone.
The Fuhrer lifted his tray to them, as if to soften the blow.

"Cupcake?"

So, how many typos were there?