Royai Week 2016

by ssadropout

These are my attempts at the 2016 Royai prompts. The chapters will not be a cohesive story. They are just various short fics united by the prompts. They will vary in tone. Some will be angsty. Some will be humorous. The will all have Royai! Chapter 7: Choices. Roy Mustang has made and will make a lot of difficult choices. He usually knows the right one to make. He knows the best on

1. Chapter 1

A/N: This chapter is angsty and takes place after Ishval and before the Promised Day.

FMA is not mine. I am not worthy!

The mission was an abject failure. They'd had intel that the weapons runners they'd been investigating were planning to make a big deal that day. None of the marks had shown up for their meeting. The weather was too horrible for anyone but the mailmen and them. It was one of Central's most miserable kinds of days. The temperature was bitterly low. The barometer was diving. A blizzard would have been better than this icy rain. Their hair and clothes were stiff with it. He and the lieutenant had waited under an overhang in an alley, but it had not offered much protection. A better part of him would have been happy that the rest of his team was back in the office, dry and warm, suffering only from paperwork. That part was too frozen and remained buried deep inside of him in some tiny warm recess that must be there somewhere. The part of him that was in control pulsed with resentment, never mind that he had made the assignments.

Of course, she looked stoic. Her expression was the same as ever- impassive but practical. Patient, like she was with everyone and everything but him and his band of shirkers. Her cheeks were red and chapped. Not like the sunny pink blooms that he occasionally managed to trick onto her cheeks.

"Go home, Lieutenant. Take the automobile. I'll take a taxi back to the office and dismiss the others. It's going to be too dangerous to travel, soon."

"Sir, I should go with you. We can discuss the report on the way," she advised him.

"I'll call you later about the report. You're shivering. You really need to warm up," he insisted. "That's an order."

She sighed. A relenting.

He sighed to himself.

He wanted to take her back to his place. Snap a dancing fire into his fireplace. Draw her a bath in the tub that sadly could not accommodate two. Wrap her in a big soft plush towel when she was done.

Probably never going to happen.

She shivered again and glanced at his hands. His fingers looked so cold. They were too sore for him to put his black leather gloves back on. Before they had left the office, she had packed his ignition cloth gloves and a lighter in a water-proof case. She could shoot in her leather gloves, but he had had to remove his as soon as they got to their cover. It would have taken too long to remove them and don his ignition cloth gloves. He'd clenched and unclenched his fists and breathed on them to keep them snapping ready. Instead, it looked like his fingers could easily be snapped off.

If things were different, she would be the one breathing warmth to his hands. Holding them next to her body. She wanted to kiss the ice from his eyelashes.

Probably never going to happen.

But... maybe someday.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Take care.