G, gen. For the fma500 challenge "small blessings".
A Little Something
by Maaya
Hawkeye wakes with a headache and a sour taste at the back of her throat, slowly rising towards her mouth. She can hear the wind outside, opening the curtains reveals watery snow in soggy layers on the rooftops and sidewalks outside and it is just one of those days.
She showers, dresses, eats breakfast and then has to face the severe test that almost every single person in the city has to go through on mornings like these.
Hawkeye opens the door to her apartment, walks down the stairs and reaches the street-door. She opens it without hesitation because it would be useless to stall. Heavy wet wind greets her, blows right through her coat, through her uniform, skin and meat. It's useless to wish for things in moments like these, but a quiet voice at the back of her mind curses the fact she doesn't own a car.
As it is, Hawkeye walks on snowy roads to the military headquarters. Gets there on time, only slightly wet because it stopped snowing halfway there. It's her feet, mostly, her toes imitating ice-cubes in her boots. It would hurt to thaw them out, no doubt. And if she remembers correctly, it is Hawkeye's turn to take care of the coffee and tea corner this morning.
Those are her reasons for feeling somewhat sour as she finally enters the office--which is a warm room at least, thank god.
She decides to immediately grasp the nettle, striding towards the coffee-corner--
--and finds that someone has already--recently--boiled the water, washed the mugs and fetched new tea-bags. Hawkeye eyes the steaming pot with slight surprise tinting her expression, before she regains her composure and pours herself a cup.
As she is walking back to her desk with her steaming mug held carefully in one hand, she doesn't have to look at the colonel to know, that he is most certainly smirking down into his papers and looking much too pleased with himself.
Hawkeye keeps her expression smooth, but her eyes are fond.
end