A/N: So it's been a few days and I meant to update a little earlier, but to make up (and for all the background and plot build-up I'm doing with this story) I decided that I would release this chapter in one piece instead of splitting it up. It is an exceptionally long chapter but I hope you stick with it because I'm very proud of it. It's funny and switched POVs and leaves the story in the perfect place for the next chapter!
Please do be sure to let me know what you think, and if you have any questions or suggestions, let me hear them!
Enjoy!
Roy Mustang was determined to have a good night.
More importantly, he was determined to make sure that all of his subordinates were having a good night.
He can't remember the last time everyone was together for something other than work. Hell, they haven't even spent time as a unit at work since before Havoc lost the use of his legs.
Havoc and Breda were easy to please: five bottles of whiskey (overkill probably, but better to have extra than to run out) and each other's company would be more than enough. Falman was a little trickier, but he was currently excitedly telling Hawkeye and Fuery about the next couple of albums he planned to play, so Roy chalked it up as a success. Roy had actually been of a lot of use to Fuery today, helping him set up the lines earlier today. He knew now that the kid would be more relaxed at the party, since he didn't have to worry about doing much work tomorrow. And Hawkeye…
Roy smirked, looking over to see her giggling at Fuery's scrunched up face. Fuery was not great at drinking and the whiskey Roy brought was harsh. Hawkeye motioned towards her own cup and threw her head back to take a large swig. She was clearly demonstrating to Fuery that this wasn't a sipping whiskey.
Hawkeye, Roy mused, would be able to have fun if he simply ordered her to do so.
Of course, he'd never say that to her face. She'd fix him with that glare, the one that told him his ego was way too big. But he knew it was true. Her loyalty to him didn't care about his ego. Sometimes, he Roy thinks about how dedicated she is to his cause – to him – he feels something so intense, he has to make himself stop thinking about it.
Besides, he wouldn't have to order her to have fun tonight. Hawkeye loved these men. Every single person in this room loved each other as much as or more than their own families. Roy's heart swelled when Fuery took another stab at drinking the whiskey, trying to hide his grimace a little better, as Hawkeye suppressed her laughter. His eyes settled on her for a few more moments. She was sweeping her hair out of her face, sat on the ground in the corner furthest from the record player and chatting amiably to Fuery and Falman. Her face looked a little flushed, and her features were less regimented than usual. Less guarded. He pondered how much she's had to drink, although he knows he's tipsy too. Looking around, everyone seems to be going down the same path.
He realised he'd been looking at her a little too much. He turned around in his chair to face Havoc and Breda, who thankfully didn't seem to notice. Breda was trying to explain some Eastern cultural traditions to an extremely annoyed looking Havoc. Eventually, Havoc interrupted him.
"This is supposed to be a party, stop trying to be so boooooring" Havoc wasn't all that drunk yet but definitely tipsy enough to complain. "Can we please talk about something that I'm interested in?"
Roy snickered at Havoc. "Okay, so booze, guns or women?" he joked.
Havoc's face lit up as his eyes darted to the corner of the room, where Hawkeye was sitting. "Actually, speaking of all three…" Havoc leaned in conspiratorially, locking eyes with Mustang and wearing a more serious expression. Breda followed suit. Roy scoffed at the childishness of the gesture, before reluctantly leaning in as well. Havoc's voice lowered.
"Boss, has Hawkeye ever introduced you to someone she was dating?" Breda frowned at Havoc, before turning to face Roy, a curious look in his eyes.
"Well…" Roy thought for a few seconds. "Not intentionally, that I know of." He searched his memory but came up blank.
"What do you mean not intentionally?" Breda asked, innocently enough. Roy considered lying to them, but knew he was just about drunk enough that his face would give it away. He sighed.
"I may have run into her once or twice while she was on a date…" Not technically a lie, but he hoped he wouldn't be pressed further on the issue. He saw a questioning look in Havoc's eyes and held his breath, bracing himself.
Here it comes.
"… Men or women?"
"Havoc!" Roy balked. Breda quickly looked up from the table, before looking down at the men again. Something in Breda's eyes told Roy that he had been loud enough to capture the attention of the three soldiers in the corner. "Havoc!" he repeated, much quieter.
"What? You know I'm not judging. In fact…" Havoc's grin widened and he raised an eyebrow suggestively as he trailed off. Roy and Breda rolled their eyes. Havoc was undeterred.
"It's just so weird. I've even met Fuery's dates before! No way Hawkeye is lacking for interested men. Or women." he appended. "So, which is it? Men or women?"
Roy sighed again, wanting to tell Havoc that they should all mind their own business, and that Hawkeye's love-life was none of their concern, and that if she wanted him to know, she'd tell him herself, thank you very much. But instead he picked up the half-empty bottle of whiskey, topping the three of them up.
"Men."
"Huh."
"So, what's her type?" Breda asked, his voice lower than before. Roy expected better of him. "Anyone we'd know?"
"I don't think so, no."
Breda smiled, eyes twinkling. "Anyone you'd know?"
Roy fixed him with a stare, and Breda chuckled, muttering to himself. Roy barely caught the words "run into her on a date, huh?" Roy's scowl deepened and Breda, still smiling, decided to change the subject. He leaned out of the little makeshift huddle they'd made for themselves and rubbed his hands together.
"Okay boys, anyone interested in some poker?"
Havoc looked at him. "We can't play poker. One of your cards is outside with holes in it."
Breda looked confused, before realisation dawned on him. "Oh. Yeah."
"Wait, what?" Roy asked. "Why are there holes in one of your cards?"
Havoc smirked and leaned back into a huddle.
"Oh yeah, we haven't told you yet…"
Riza laughed louder than she had intended to when Falman tried to stand up. He stumbled and ended up safely plopping down in the same position as he had started. He and Fuery joined her laughter. She was feeling warm, despite the fact that they were now well into the night-time, and nights in the desert were cold.
She knew it was the whiskey that kept her body warm and her mind a little fuzzy and her laugh a little loud. She didn't mind. She was usually a lot more nervous about drinking and the lack of control she felt when she was drunk, but she trusted the men around her and didn't feel like they'd hold a few loud laughs against her.
Shortly after Mustang's toast, she had set up a few oil lanterns around the room. She had then shut the window in the room when she realised that the winds outside were heavy and blowing sand in from the window. Their base was lamp-lit and cosy. Riza had come over to this corner to escape the smell of Havoc's cigarette for a few minutes (Havoc wasn't supposed to smoke in the base, but after a couple of whiskeys, he lit up and nobody cared enough to argue) but Fuery then came over to join her, followed by Falman and a half-full bottle of whiskey. A few hours later and here they were; sat cross-legged on the ground, chatting and laughing.
"Lieutenant," Falman's eyes softened as he looked at her. "It's good to hear your laugh. When I was sent North I was afraid I'd never hear it again."
"Not that we heard it very often," Fuery interrupted with a giggle. The alcohol had made him less anxious, more able to tease his superior without having a panic attack. His words made her laugh a little harder.
"I missed you both too." She admitted, putting her hands on their shoulders. They both swayed a little, almost toppling over even though she hadn't applied much pressure. They laughed again.
Riza looked at the two empty bottles of whiskey on the ground. Had they already drank that much? Riza couldn't remember the second bottle being opened. Still, she felt good and was happy to continue feeling good, even if they would all regret it the next morning.
"I'll fetch us another bottle!" She exclaimed.
"Hey! That's what I was going to do!" Falman accused, but Riza had a much easier time getting up. Before she turned to walk away, Falman looked at her with pleading eyes.
"Will you put on a new record too?"
Riza smiled and nodded, going first to the record player and selecting one of the records that hadn't been played. In the brief interim between records, she could hear the winds outside howling, and sand being thrown against the glass of the window.
She chose the record well, she decided, as a brass instrumental piece began to play. Lifting herself onto her tiptoes on a whim, she allowed her body to lean into her uneven steps. She was not quite dancing, but she was swaying languidly to the music. One particularly unsteady step caught Breda's attention and through her heavy eyelids she saw him smile before elbowing Havoc, who looked up to see her too. Havoc smiled too, mouthing something she couldn't hear and shortly after, the Colonel turned in his chair curiously before his eyes rested on her.
She let her eyes close and her head sway partially to indulge better in the music but mostly because if she kept looking at the attention she was getting, she would get embarrassed. Her whimsical notion lasted only a few more seconds before she stopped swaying and scanned the room for more alcohol. She looked past the men who were still looking at her, spotting an unopened bottle of whiskey on the table between them.
She approached the table and reached for the bottle of whiskey. Havoc tried to catch her wrist before she grabbed it, but instead he clumsily pawed at her hand before his own fell back on the table.
"Heyyyyy, no fair!" He pouted. She laughed at his dropped lip. There half a bottle open beside Havoc, so she didn't feel guilty when she pulled the full bottle up, cradling it to her chest defensively.
"You boys having a good night?" she asked, looking at the other two men at the table. Breda's grin looked tired but genuine. Mustang was concentrating on the bottle in her hand, also pouting. His pout looked more playful though, and her suspicions were confirmed when he broke into a smile.
"You know it, Hawkeye!" Breda answered, shuffling a deck of cards clumsily.
"What are you playing?"
"Poker without the aces," Mustang slurred a little as he spoke. His eyes lit up. "Speaking of which…" his smile deepened. "The guys were telling me about your little bet earlier".
"Oh? Did they tell you I wiped the floor with them?" Riza chuckled, casting a teasing glance to Breda and Hawkeye.
"They didn't put it in those words, but I figured. They also told me why you wanted the room." He said, almost as if it were an afterthought.
Riza froze a little. Surely the men hadn't told her boss that she wanted privacy so she could…
They didn't.
"They did?" She asked through a lump in her throat.
"Yeah. I don't know why you'd need a room to yourself though…" Mustang took a swig from his mug before continuing. "I'd have been happy to help you out".
Riza fought back a gasp, willing the blush creeping up her face to go away. He had said it so casually, there wasn't even a hint of teasing in his voice.
"S-sir?"
"It would have been no problem. And it would save some time. I'd like to think I've gotten much better at it over the years," he explained. "Although, I'm not sure what help I'd be to you any more", he waved his mug at her, a goofy grin on his face. "Too much whiskey".
Riza could have fainted then and there.
Havoc's eyes went wide and a huge smile spread across his face.
"Aw man, I didn't even think of asking her if she needed any help!" His eyes glinted impishly. She knew he was teasing her. Still, she couldn't stop her jaw from dropping.
"Well, you should have!" Mustang accused. "You can't expect her to do it by herself! And you", Mustang wagged a finger at Breda. "I expected better of you." Havoc had broken down laughing by this point.
Riza realised that Breda wasn't smiling. He cleared his throat and looked up at her.
"Yeah, we were just telling the Colonel here that you wanted a private room so you could finish up the paperwork" Breda emphasised through gritted teeth. Havoc was still laughing.
Riza was confused at first, and her mind raced. Mustang had offered to help… thought it would save time… too much whiskey…
Oh.
He was offering to help her with paperwork.
Riza let out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding, sighing in relief before trying to regain composure of her face. Of course Breda and Havoc would have known better than to tell Mustang the truth. She gave a quick nod to Breda before looking at Mustang.
"That's quite alright Sir. I don't need any assistance".
"Yeah," Havoc choked out between fits of laughter. "She'd probably be happier by herself, make sure the job gets done right, you know?" He proceeded to howl again, barely able to breathe.
Mustang raised an eyebrow at Havoc, clearly not getting the joke.
"What's up with him, do you think?" he asked.
Riza and Breda shared a quick, panicked glance.
"No idea sir."
"He's probably just had too much to drink."
Havoc settled down, gasping for air until his breath evened.
"Yeah, don't mind me," he winked up at Riza, a huge smile still on his face. She could have killed him on the spot.
"Hey, that's where the whiskey went!" Falman and Fuery approached the table. Fuery held out his mug to Riza, who opened the bottle and poured once the feeling came back into her hands.
Roy got up when the record had finished playing, staggering slightly before he found his footing again. The room seemed tilted slightly and his vision was partially blurred. The whole team were sat down at the table again. They had played a few rounds of poker before it became obvious that nobody had the concentration or bluffing skills to play. The last game ended with a particularly sloppy shuffle by Breda, spilling the cards over the table and onto the ground. Nobody had bothered trying to pick them up.
There was only one record left that hadn't been played, and Roy was happy to be lifted from the burden of choice. It turned out to be lounge music, calm and chilled-out. It perfectly reflected the time of night. Everyone was too drunk to be rowdy and loud. Instead they just made conversation and enjoyed each other's company. The last bottle of whiskey – previously guarded by Hawkeye – was shared among the men equally, and what was left in their mugs was what was left in the whole region of Ishval. Did they really drink… it took Roy a while to get the math right… three fifths of a bottle of whiskey each? Roy smiled to himself. The drive tomorrow was going to be chaos.
He returned to his seat, sitting between Fuery and Falman, directly opposite Havoc, who was sandwiched between Hawkeye and Breda as they conversed over him.
Roy asked Falman about the musicians from the record that was now playing, and Falman offered the information happily through slurred lips and hiccoughs.
Hawkeye was the first to retire, grabbing her sleeping mat and blanket from the pile before moving towards the door.
"Aren't you forgetting something, Lieutenant?" Havoc slurred, a playful smile on his lips. Roy watched Hawkeye's brows knit in confusion before she returned to a neutral expression.
"I'm not giving you a kiss goodnight, Havoc".
Havoc laughed, the rest of the table snickered tiredly with him.
"Very upfront, but not what I meant…" Havoc gestured towards a bag beside Hawkeye. "The paperwork. Weren't you going to finish that up?"
Breda chuckled and Hawkeye's expression was almost completely unchanged. Almost. Roy could see her eyes open a little wider and her body tense, for the briefest moment, before she relaxed.
"Oh, that. I think it would be better if I did that in the morning". With that, she turned around and slipped into the room, everyone muttering farewells.
"Hey Hawkeye, enjoy your night" Breda called to her in a sing-song voice. The door swung closed, slamming behind her and making everyone jump. Breda and Havoc shared another chuckle.
Roy turned back to Breda and Havoc. "What was that about?"
"What was what about, Sir?" Breda asked, but he was unable to hide the playful look on his face.
"Oh come on, you two are keeping secrets from me! Me! Your brave and strong leader!" his words were coming out sloppy, but he could tell that the men could understand them. "As your superior, I demand to know what's going on!" he whined.
"I'll answer your question if you answer mine" Breda retorted. Falman and Fuery looked at the men with interest and confusion, having no idea what they were talking about.
Roy allowed Breda to continue.
"How is it you managed to "run into" Hawkeye during dates?" Breda bent his fingers to make messy air-quotes at the phrase "run into". "Was that an accident or was it orchestrated?" Breda and Havoc both smiled conspiratorially. Fuery and Falman looked at him, eyes widening as their interest grew.
Roy couldn't tell them. He knew he'd never live it down for the rest of his life. To be fair, he had just accidentally run into her and a date the first time. He'd been walking down the street and saw Hawkeye across the road. He'd caught her attention with a shout and waved, crossing to greet her, realising as he approached that she was walking alongside someone.
The guy had light-brown hair that almost reached his shoulders, and a dumb looking green shirt and weird grey pants. Hawkeye introduced him as Dave, and Dave shook his hand. Roy remembered thinking that Dave was a dumb and bland name and it suited him perfectly. He couldn't even think of the name without hearing it like a scoff. Dave! Roy asked them where they were headed, and Hawkeye told him that they were going to the Green Hill Café.
Roy knew the place, it was a short walk from Hawkeye's apartment. It was a little fancier than a diner, but not over-the-top, and it closed by 7pm. Because it was relatively casual and closed early, it would be an easy escape if a date went wrong. But if it was going well, it was beside a few bars, where the date would be able to continue. The more Roy thought about it, the more he realised that it would be a great spot for a first date. Roy suspected that maybe Hawkeye brought all of her first dates there.
When the pair bid him farewell, Roy shook Dave's hand again, a little firmer than last time. Dave looked uncomfortable, but still politely smiled.
The other two times were less accidental. A couple of days after Hawkeye's date with Dave, he went to the café himself, grinning and flirting with the hostess until she could be swindled into doing him a small favour.
The hostess called both times, letting Roy know that there had been a booth booked under the name Hawkeye. She also offered the name of who was joining her both times. Roy thanked her, staying flirty enough that she would continue her covert spying for him. Two separate times, he searched for a new name in the old case files, looking for any criminal history or any information at all. The first time, the name came up clean, although Roy still found himself parked opposite Hawkeye's apartment block that evening, breathing a sigh of relief when she returned and went inside alone.
The second time he ran a name, the man had a file in Central. He had done a few petty crimes, nothing major. But Roy still followed him that night into a bar and introduced himself as the famous Flame Alchemist. He left a not-so-subtle hint that he knew about the man's background, and another less-subtle hint that he was a close friend of Hawkeye's. He then left, knowing that the guy got the message.
That was the last date he had heard about, and it happened years ago. Roy had briefly wondered if she had stopped dating, but he knew it was probably more likely that she noticed a pattern and stopped taking her dates to that café. Either way, Hawkeye never mentioned it. Neither did he of course; he didn't want to have to explain that he was only trying to protect her.
If he thought about it too hard, he would have to admit that she was more than capable of protecting herself. And then he'd have to ask himself the real reason he interfered.
Roy brought his attention back to Breda, who was still waiting for an answer. He shrugged his shoulders and frowned.
"Fine, if you don't want to tell me what's happening, I'll let it go" he grumbled, avoiding the initial question. He emphasised the words let it go and Breda knew better than to call him out for deflecting.
Breda sighed. "Fellas, I think it's time for bed." Everyone mumbled their agreement. Roy dragged his sleeping mat along the floor, blanket and pillow bundled in his arms, and turned to his men, who were laying out sleeping mats and taking the pin off the record player, getting ready for some sleep. He wished them a quick goodnight before opening the door into his room.
Looking around the room, lit only by starlight, Roy let an annoyed grunt escape his throat.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
He must have opened the window when they arrived, and he'd forgotten to close it when he heard the storm start up. The heavy winds had blown sand in everywhere, and they settled in little hills all over the floor of his room. There was a pile that reached the window, pouring in like an avalanche. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep comfortably in this room.
He noticed the footprints in the sand, leading to the door on the opposite side of the room. Hawkeye had clearly passed through to get to her room. He huffed. She could have warned me. He knew she was pretty wasted though, and reasoned that she probably didn't even notice.
He was looking forward to having a room to himself. They had camped out in a military tent the past few nights, on the road to Ishval. He was delighted when he saw that there was a building, practically untouched, with a private room, and he had immediately claimed it. Private room meant that he could stretch and move and make himself comfortable without feeling like he was bothering any of his men. He was also worried that his night terrors may start up again, since they were… where they were. A private room meant no awkward questions about why he was whimpering in his sleep.
He continued to look at the door in front of him, thinking it was unfair that Hawkeye got a room for herself. He would of course have offered it to her anyway, but he knew her, and she wouldn't have accepted it.
His ears pricked, sure he had heard a sound. He held his breath until he heard it again. It was a feminine sigh, coming from Hawkeye's room. He had slept in the tent with her and the rest of the men, so he knew she was a silent sleeper. He turned and looked at the door behind him. The guys were probably already asleep, and the door was really creaky. He didn't want to wake them up, knowing that they'd complain grumpily at him as he set up for sleep.
He heard the sigh again, this time a little louder, so he knew he wasn't imagining it. If she was making noise, he reasoned, then she wasn't asleep.
If he had been a little more sober, he would have reasoned that going into her room was inappropriate, and that he should really just turn around and risk waking the men in the room behind him. If he had been a little more sober, he would have reasoned that he should at least knock before he entered the room.
But he was not sober, so he simply walked across his room, blanket and sleeping mat in hand, and opened the door. He heard her squeak and scramble, lifting her arms above the covers and grabbing the blanket, securing it over her chest before looking up to face him.
"Hey, Lieutenant. You could have told me the window was open. Damn sand everywhere. The men are asleep so I thought -" he froze, his eyes finally catching up with the rest of his body.
Hawkeye's arms, above the covers, were completely bare. He looked around the room, seeing a pair of sweats and a nightdress in the corner. She had been wearing them earlier, after dinner. Why would she take off her pyjamas before bed? He looked back to her. Her face was flushed and she was short of breath, practically panting as her mouth hung low and her eyes stayed wide.
"Why are you…?" He gestured towards her clothes, hoping she'd understand the rest of the question.
"I was – it was warm, Sir." she answered, still a little short of breath.
Roy quickly knelt down beside her, tossing his sleeping mat and blanket aside. He was wearing a lot more than her and even he was getting cold. The desert was freezing at night. He quickly grew concerned. He leaned towards her, reaching out and touching one of her arms. As he suspected, it was cold to the touch.
"That's probably the whiskey, Lieutenant. You'll catch your -"
That's when he smelled it.
Something musky and sweet hit his nose. It was barely there, but it smelled vaguely like honey-dipped grapes. He knew that smell. Not exactly that smell, but he'd smelled something like it plenty of times before. It was completely unmistakable.
Everything clicked into place; why her face was so red, why her arms had darted above the blanket when her entered. Why she wanted the private room. Why Breda and Havoc were giving her a hard time…
Those noises.
He looked at her amber eyes again, looking past the panic and surprise and seeing something more… primal.
His eyes bulged. He could feel the huge smile creep across his face, and he could hear his own voice, low and steady with a hint of mischief.
"Lieutenant," he breathed, the smell still sweet in the air. "Am I interrupting something?"
